Draco Malfoy heaved himself off of his bed the next morning, squinting at the bright sunlight pouring into his room and absentmindedly scratching his chest with one hand, and ruffling his hair with the other. Yawning, he shuffled out his door with the intent to go get himself a cup of tea, but no sooner had he stepped through to the corridor than two hard, cold objects hit him in the face.
"Bloody fucking hell that hurt!" He opened his eyes up wider and looked up. Hermione stood at the other end of the short hall, hands angrily placed on her hips and her lips pursed in frustration.
"Bloody fucking hell... yes that is exactly what I was thinking, because that is exactly what you are! You are hell to live with! I don't want your dirty money Malfoy, and I certainly don't need it. I am perfectly well off financially thank-you-very-much and I wish you could just have the tiniest bit of respect for me Malfoy, instead of trying to make me feel like a two galleon slag!"
"Merlin, you are NOT a morning person, are you?" he asked, rubbing his ears.
"Don't you dare try and change the subject Malfoy."
He sighed, really not wanting to deal with her fiery attitude in the first five minutes that he had been awake.
"Mione, all I want is a cup of tea and The Daily Prophet. Can't this wait till later?"
"That is not your nickname to use! Only my friends call me that," she snapped viciously.
"Fine. Hermione, all I want is a cup of tea and The Daily Prophet. Can't this wait till later? Is that better?"
She shifted uncomfortably on the spot. "I... I guess."
"Good." He brushed past her and walked down the stairs that led to the common room lazily.
"You know Malfoy," Hermione called to him. "It isn't polite to walk around in your boxers in front of people."
"I'm not walking around in my boxers in front of people. I'm walking around in front of you."
"Oh, so I'm not considered a person?" Her voice was beginning to rise again.
"No, you're a person; but you said people. People is plural, and unless Potter is dancing around in his little invisibility cloak again, I'd say it's just the two of us."
"Erh! Why must you be such a damn smart aleck?"
"I don't know, maybe it has something to do with your compulsive need to be right all the time." He sat down on the loveseat by the fire drinking his tea and skimming over the newspaper.
"I do not!"
"Denial is not just a river in Egypt, love," he said, not bothering to look up at her.
"That was possibly the worst come back I have ever heard. But I am surprised to hear you say it, since muggles say it all the time."
"Is there a point to this?" he asked.
"A point to what?"
"A point to you standing there watching me read as if something interesting is going to happen any second."
"I wasn't, I was just-"
"Staring at my body? Yeah, I know. You haven't taken your eyes off me since the second I sat down."
"I-I wasn't! It is polite to look at people when you are talking to them."
"Is it polite to throw coins at them too, or is that just a special perk package that is reserved for me?"
"I hate you. I really do."
"Yes and the Weasel isn't poor as dirt."
"Well he's not actually, it's just that they try and conserve-"
"Don't waste your time trying to defend your ridiculous little friends Mione, you could be doing much more valuable things with it."
"I told you I didn't like it when you called me that!"
"Well I told you that I didn't like being called Malfoy when I have a perfectly decent first name, so we're even!"
Hermione threw herself into the seat next to him, her arms crossed and her eyebrows furrowed. He went back to his paper, and she just began to stare and the floor.
He held his mug out to her. She looked at it for a moment, and then accepted it. After taking two small sips, she handed it back.
"You didn't put any sugar in it, did you?"
"I like it bitter."
"Clearly."
"Yes."
There was another pause between the pair.
"You still aren't wearing clothes."
"I know."
"Aren't you cold?"
"No."
"Oh."
"Yep."
Silence.
"I'm still mad, you know."
"I know."
"And I meant it too, if it ever came to that, and I had to, I would."
"Had to what?"
"Kill you."
"Oh."
"I would."
"So would I."
"Well that's a bit mean."
"What!"
"I'm a girl."
"So!"
"Well, you said you would kill me! I'm a girl! Boys just don't kill girls!"
"The Dark Lord does!"
"But he's a sick bastard. That's different."
"So you're saying that I'm not a sick bastard?"
"Yes. You're a greedy, conceited prick with an ego the size of Europe, but Voldemort takes the cake."
"Aww, Mione I think that's the nicest thing you have ever said to me." He put his hand over his heart and batted his eyelashes.
"For the millionth time, DON'T call me Mione."
"Don't call me Malfoy."
"I-"
"Say it."
"No, I don't want to."
"Say it Mione." She cringed.
"Don't call me that... Mal- Dr... Dra- Oh do I really have to?"
"Yes." Hermione sighed.
"Please don't call me Mione, Draco." He grinned broadly.
"See, that wasn't so bad, was it Mia?"
"Eeerrgghh!" Hermione stood and stomped her foot on the ground. Draco put his mug of tea down and stood up as well so that they were almost touching.
"I can't win with you, can I?" She asked.
"Well, you can try and you may win a few, but this will not be one of them."
"Merlin, that really sucks." She touched her forehead to his chest. Pulling her closer, he whispered into her ear.
"Don't worry Mia, my sexiness makes up for it."
"I still don't like you very much."
"I know."
"And I'm not going to sleep with you."
"I know."
"And if you say one bloody word to anyone I'll skin you alive in your sleep."
"I know."
"No more sticking money in my pockets. You need to respect me."
"I know."
"And you can't shag other girls on the side."
"I kn- wait... I can't?"
"No."
"Fine. Are we in agreement then?" He pulled back and stuck his hand out.
"I'm not shaking that. It would be like making a deal with the devil himself."
"Alright, then. I'll just have to settle for this." Draco slipped a hand around Hermione's middle and pulled her into a soft but lustful kiss.