I might just cry. It's been so long since I last updated. I published this story on 06/08/10, and I have only updated the 7th chapter 11/27/11. You guys have no idea how miserable I felt every time I thought of this story. It hurt that I wasn't able to see it through, and it hurt that I'd abandoned my dedicated, perpetually uplifting readers as well. High school sucks. Let's just leave it at that...and please, forgive and forget. Please forgive me for forsaking this story for so long and focus on this new chapter. I've tried to make it worth your while - so let me know if it's at least halfway decent. Maybe then I won't feel so ashamed of myself anymore if it looks like there's still hope for me here...

Official Chapter Dedication: Everyone, because anyone who's reading this right now deserves to be recognized.

Who's Afraid of the Big, Bad Wolf?

Hermione awoke the next morning to the irritating staccato sound of tapping. With a pounding head and bleary eyes, she trudged over to her window and sighed as a small owl dropped a letter by her hand and flew off. After she'd visited her mother the night before, all of her energy had come to a standstill and her dreams had been plagued with visions of darkness and death. She'd woken up twice to find her pillow soaked with tears and her clothes damp with sweat. As she rubbed her eyes with one hand, she picked up the envelope and tossed it onto her kitchen table.

I refuse to read anything until I have something other than blood coursing through my veins.

Once she had chugged an entire mug of scalding hot coffee, she lifted up the envelope and examined the handwriting. It was elegant and artistic, and the "Granger" part of her name had been written with an impressive flourish. Already sure of the sender's identity, she quickly sliced open the letter and read:

Dear Hermione,

Hello, I hope you're doing well! I just wanted to let you know that some things have changed regarding your shoot. Actually, I don't know why I used the plural form, because there's really only one thing that's going to be different. Before I tell you what it is, I want you to promise not to completely lose your head.

Promise? Okay.

You're going to be modeling with Draco today.

Hermione shrieked, "What?" and the letter unceremoniously flew out of her hands and fluttered to the floor. She stared at the table for a bit, her chest rising and falling like she'd just run a marathon. Then she dove on to the carpet to confirm that her eyes had not failed her.

You're going to be modeling with Draco today.

Oh, god.

Yes, I understand that this is probably madness on my part to be bringing about such an undertaking, but I must admit this is more the work of some of my colleagues than my own. The point is that it remains clear that you and Draco would look perfect together for the "Temptation" perfume, mainly because of your polar yet equally intriguing personalities. Of course, it has escaped no one's attention that you two are not on the best of terms, but I'm afraid you're going to have to tolerate the man for as long as necessary when it comes to business purposes. As his best friend, I am very well aware of what a git he can be, and would like to apologize in advance for any problems he might cause later on today. I regret the change of plans at such short notice, but the decision was finalized just last night with our Senior Head of Advertising, Mr. Foxworth.

I look forward to seeing you in a bit, and want to wish you the best of luck with today's work. You'll be fine if you just ignore the buffoon.

Best Wishes,

Blaise

Hermione slumped back in her hard-backed chair and scoffed in disbelief. Really? She was being forced to model with the man who'd rather strangle himself with his own innards than smile at her? Was this punishment for something she'd done wrong in a past life? Who knew, perhaps she'd committed third-degree murder in an old folks' home. Maybe she'd microwaved a hamster. Maybe she'd sold her best friend into slavery in Cambodia. She couldn't think of anything worse that would warrant torture like this.

Try to think rationally, 'Mione. He's just Malfoy. The same old demon child with the same trashy attitude and the same ego the size of Jupiter. Why do you still let him get to you? For all you know, he could just be a really sweet guy who's only been sheltered his whole life and subsequently brainwashed, resulting in his involuntary hatred towards all things connected to you and your friends…

She snorted. Yeah, right. If Malfoy was a sweet guy, then she was a transgender pole dancer.

She glanced at her clock which read 8:30. It was almost time to go to work, so without a second look at the discarded letter, Hermione jumped up and ran into her bathroom, hoping that by the grace of some divinity, all of England would shut down for the day. Twenty minutes later, she was striding through the gates that opened to her new place of employment, and all that she could think about was how there were so many things she'd meant to tell her closest friends before she died. Too bad she was walking into the steel jaws of death of her own volition.

After hastily greeting the receptionist and signing in on an enchanted metallic board, she made her way up the imposing staircase and came face to face with Blaise who was just finishing signing off on a document.

"Ah, there you are!" he exclaimed as he tapped the document once with his wand, causing it to vanish. "I had hoped that you would show up. Did you have a good night's sleep? I hope my owl didn't wake you too early."

Hermione shook her head. "No, it was fine. And yes, er, I did sleep well, thank you. Do we have anything to get started on right now?"

He raised his eyebrows at her question and said slowly, "Yes, I suppose we do. Come along, I'll show you your office."

"My office? But I'm just a model."

He laughed at her surprise and beckoned for her to walk alongside him as they stepped into a nearby corridor. "Even though you are, as you say, 'just a model,' I intend for you to have all the basic comforts that any respectable member of our company would have. I know it's unorthodox for new employees to be their own masters, but I'd rather not be responsible for your unhappiness, especially considering we're friends."

Hermione smiled at Blaise as they came to a stop in front of a dark door decorated with little silver designs on the sides. "My, but you really do know how to cheer me up."

"It's not something I rehearse, believe it or not," he replied with a grin as he turned the knob and ushered her into a large, polished room complete with leather armchairs and a shining desk in the center of the space. "I find that making pretty girls happy is one of my greatest natural talents…apart from making excellent chocolate mousse and knowing my way around a tango, of course."

Hermione slid into one of the armchairs and beamed contentedly at Blaise. It was amazing how he could say one thing and make it sound so sweet and charming, but Malfoy could say the same exact thing and make it sound as appealing as a dragon's backside. Not that Malfoy doesn't resemble one in the first place…

"Thank you so much, Blaise," she said as she ran her fingers along the smooth edge of her desk. "I can't imagine a nicer room or a nicer employer. I'm very glad I decided to actually come to work this morning."

He nodded very seriously before checking his watch and walking over to the door. "I'm glad you're settled in now. You'll be receiving a note from me sooner or later to come down to the studio area and get ready for the shoot, so don't go anywhere for a while."

"Oh, but isn't there someth -"

He chuckled and rolled his eyes playfully as he cut across her words. "Of course, the brilliant Hermione Granger must have something to occupy her brains for all of thirty minutes. Fear not, darling, I've left you a little something in the top right drawer of your desk. I expect you'll have it accomplished by the time I call for you."

She nodded enthusiastically and he left the room, leaving her to hastily tug open the designated drawer and pull out a small parcel with a note on it. Setting the note aside for a moment, she tore open the packaging to find a tank top and a pair of yoga pants in her size. Completely bemused, she turned to the note and read:

Make sure you have a good handle on yoga. You'll need to be flexible for today's shoot, in more ways than one.

- B

Without wasting a second, Hermione snatched up the clothes and dashed out of her office, her heels making it sound like a bull elephant had been let loose. Taking care not to twist her ankle, she careened into the main hallway before running into Blaise's office and throwing the clothes onto the big table in front of her.

"W-what," she panted as she stooped over to catch her breath. "What is the meaning of this?"

Blaise glanced up indifferently as if sweaty women in heels sprinted into his office everyday (they probably did) before going back to his letters and remarking casually, "I thought it was all very easy to understand. You ought to do some yoga so you don't strain your muscles in a few hours."

"But why would I be straining my muscles in the first place?" she hissed while struggling to stand up straight once more.

"Have you forgotten already? You're doing an ad for a perfume called 'Temptation,' Hermione. If that doesn't already make you think of sex and seduction, then I don't know what does."

"But I fail to see what yoga has to do with any of this!" she cried almost hysterically. "Are you telling me that Malfoy and I will be demonstrating how to do proper Kama Sutra or something?"

Blaise leaned back with a thoughtful expression. "Wow, come to think of it, that would be a really interesting advertisement…"

"BLAISE!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, calm down. I'm not some cheap voyeur who gets his thrills out of seeing other people do the horizontal naked dance, and I'm not about to subject you to something like that. I like you, remember?"

"If this is you liking me, could you like me a bit less?" Hermione muttered as a lock of hair fell in front of her eyes.

Blaise rolled his eyes and walked over to Hermione to give her a fatherly pat on the back. "Now, now, don't stress out so much. Yes, I meant it when I said yoga would be beneficial today. The shoot we're conducting is going to require some physical flexibility. And no," he added after Hermione's pointed glare, "That does not mean you will be doing anything that rhymes with 'flex.' Honestly, could you give me a little more credit? It pains me to see my own friends be so suspicious of me."

Hermione shot him another look before retrieving the clothes she'd thrown onto the table and walking out. She bowed her head to adjust her skirt as she walked, and before she knew it, she had collided with something very hard and firm. With a small gasp, she started and tossed her hair back to stare accusingly at the culprit only to find a certain foul-mouthed prick glowering back at her.

"Well, well," Malfoy drawled in a voice that sounded like someone was strangling a warthog. Perhaps other women found it sexy, but to Hermione it just sounded like the man had had one too many cigarettes. "If it isn't the up-and-coming celebrity herself. You're here awfully early, aren't you?"

"I'm here to do my job, Malfoy, shocking as it may seem," Hermione retorted. "Unlike certain bigheaded prats, I like to actually deserve my payment."

He sneered at her. "Right now, the only thing you deserve is an Unforgivable. It's a pity proper decorum dictates that I not decapitate you in public."

"Do you really spend all your time thinking of these insults for me, Malfoy? I must say, I feel somewhat flattered that you shower such attention on me. Still, be careful: some might mistake all that hostility to be latent sexual attraction."

Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest (stop noticing his damn muscles, you perverted woman!) and rolled his eyes. "Right. As if that would ever happen. I know it must be hard to find a mirror big enough to take in all of…that, but don't you think you could at least try to make an effort to look like you're not some she-beast that's clawed her way out of hell? I must say, looking at you almost makes me feel depressed at times." He'd waved his hand around once to indicate her hair, and now stuck it in his pocket with that dastardly smirk dancing around on his face.

"My condolences," she spat, highly aware that her hair was slowly but surely escaping from her haphazardly styled ponytail. Of course it would have to be in front of the stupid ferret that she morphed into a freaking electron cloud. "The next time I wrestle with my hair, I'll be sure to keep you in mind. Maybe I'll try a Medusa style – it'll be sure to appeal to the snake that you are."

"Touchy, touchy. Anyways, Granger, I just wanted to remind you that I will personally ensure that you never walk on two legs again if something goes wrong today. And Merlin knows what the hell I did in my past life to deserve such torture, but I can assure you that nothing we do in there will ever change the way I feel about you."

Interesting, he had the same thought process as me.

"And what way is that, Malfoy?" she asked sweetly, her voice taut.

"I hate you," he said simply. "I just hate you."

And with that, he turned on his heel and strode away with that infuriating strut of his. Hermione stood there for a few seconds, breathing hard and feeling her curls migrate outwards from her head. I-I'm going to lose my mind. I need to talk to Andi. She stepped back into the corridor where her office was and leaned against the wall with her cell phone glued to her ear. After a few rings, her ever-exuberant friend picked up and shouted out a distracted greeting.

"Hey, Herms!" she yelled over the dull roar surrounding her. "My gosh, I'm still not used to this whole cell phone thing. Every time the bloody thing vibrates, I feel like I'm about to have an or-"

"Andi, I have to model with him today!"Hermione cried out exasperatedly, partly because she was quickly getting pressed for time, and partly because she did not want her friend to finish that sentence.

There was a short pause as Andi apologized to someone for stepping on his foot, and then she asked, "Hm, what? Sorry, can't hardly hear you over all this madness. Who are you modeling with?"

"Mal-foy," Hermione enunciated so that the effect would really sink in. "I'm modeling with the devil incarnate, Andi! MALFOY!"

"What the bloody hell are you getting your knickers in a twist for, woman?" Andi demanded as an announcement echoed over the intercom on her side. "The man's twisted, yes, but he's still a demigod, Herms! Just shut up and do what you have to do and try to enjoy it while you're at it."

"You don't understand," she replied miserably. Her shoulders sagged slightly. "Nobody understands. This is practically a blood feud, Andi! Apparently everyone thinks that we're just a pair of misunderstood children, but this has gone far beyond the dealings of childhood. He hates me with every fiber of his being and I admit, I reciprocate the feeling for him. But goddamn it, how am I supposed to accomplish anything with a clear mind in this place if he's going to torment me like the plague?"

There was another pause before Andi shouted, "Hermione, I'm not gonna lie. I literally heard only three words that you said, and those were 'blood,' 'children,' and 'goddamn.' Now unless you're trying to tell me that you've suddenly gotten pregnant, the only advice I have to give to you is keep calm and carry the fuck on."

Hermione blinked disbelievingly at the wall in front of her. "You seriously have nothing else to offer? No moral support? No death threats or promises of instant castration at the slightest notice? Nothing?"

"Girl, we've been through a lot together, but I seriously think you need to step back and grow up a little. Sure, you're gorgeous. Sure, you're the most brilliant witch of our time. But when it comes to handling Malfoy maturely, you have an incredibly long way to go. You've stared down freaking Lord Voldemort, 'Mione! Are you telling me you can't deal with a snot-nosed goober like this kid?"

Feeling both empowered and slightly ashamed, Hermione began to nod and exclaimed, "You're right! I just need to get a grip on myself and come to terms with all of this. It's not like I'm selling my organs in the black market; I just need to do a few poses with a less-than-desirable man."

"See? Now you're talkin'!"

"Okay, then. I suppose I should go. Blaise told me I have to, er, do some yoga to prepare for the shoot."

Andi burst out into laughter. "Seriously? Man, it sounds like you and Malfoy are going to be X-rated tonight!"

"And I thank you for your compassion and understanding," Hermione said with a clenched jaw.

"You'll survive, babe," Andrea said with laughter still bubbling in her throat. "I have complete faith in you. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah? Got to run now, my manager's asked me to organize some of these hopefuls into various categories based on attractiveness and such. It's a taxing job, but someone's gotta do it, right?"

"Yeah. Right. All right then, I'll see you later."

"Love you!"Andi said distractedly.

Hermione sighed, snapped her phone shut, and turned to make her way into her new office when she heard the sound of feet thundering down the adjacent hallway. She hurriedly peered out around the corner to see a red-faced Malfoy charge into Blaise's office in a similar fashion as she had, except he left behind a series of highly potent curse words mingling and reverberating through the air. The door slammed amidst a hodgepodge of "fucking-sonofa-bast-arseho-motherfu-" As he dashed in, Hermione caught a glimpse of a parcel identical to the one she had received earlier in his hand. A note fluttered to the ground in his wake, and Hermione scurried forward to pick it up after checking to make sure the coast was clear.

A malicious, throaty laugh escaped from her mouth as she straightened up and pocketed the note. It was such a blessing to have Blaise on her side…

Not that I really mind you pulling a muscle or two (it would teach you a much-needed lesson), but you should probably do some yoga to prepare for later with Hermione (yes, that's right you wanker, learn to accept that I use her first name). I know it won't bother you to wear tight, feminine clothing because I remember that secret penchant you had for cross-dressing back in your early childhood years. And stop glaring at the blasted paper, Draco. The poor thing didn't do anything to you.

B

...

Draco had once read a Muggle story in the Hogwarts library about a wolf that continually pestered these three chubby little pigs. Every time the wolf came knocking on the pigs' doors, the pigs would resist, so the wolf would simply step back, take a huge, deep breath, and exhale so hard that he would blow the house down.

Right now, he was the wolf. And the three pigs he'd decided to annihilate were Willy, Blaise, and Granger, in that order. He was ready to huff and puff their damn heads off, and he'd decided to save the best and the bitchiest for last.

"P-please, Mr. Malfoy," Willy whimpered as he stood trembling in front of Draco. "I just need to work with you for ten minutes."

They were both inside another studio located in one of the far recesses of the building. One of the walls was covered with tall mirrors, and the room had a distinct smell of jasmine and sweat and crushed souls. Or maybe Draco was just imagining the crushed souls part. Draco looked over Willy's head to glare balefully at his reflection – what the hell had possessed him to even go along with any of this? He was standing there in parachute-like pants, a shirt that read "Easygoing," and a pair of ridiculously cheap sandals. The air was filled with trance music punctuated with Indian chants and a tinkling of bells, and he was pretty damn sure that Blaise had even coerced Willy into lighting a stick of incense somewhere in the room, hence the strong, flowery scent.

What made it all so much worse was that Willy was dressed the same way. At least Draco's genes enabled him to look good in anything – Willy, on the other hand, looked like his plump stomach would pop right through the strained fabric of his shirt, and let's not even begin to talk about his pallid, flabby legs.

Why the fuck did I hire him again? Oh that's right. I didn't. Tell me something, Draco: why is Blaise singlehandedly the greatest cause of your misery?

"If you think," Draco hissed, "that I'm going to sit here and contort myself into a human pretzel or something, you're going to find yourself gravely mistaken."

Willy paled to a color about four shades lighter than normal and involuntarily leaned back as if to dodge Draco's talons. "N-no one's asking you to do that, sir. All we have to d-do is a f-few basic exercises."

"This is entirely unnecessary," Draco spat. "Blaise is making a fool of both of us."

"I-I don't think so, sir. M-Mr. Zabini seemed genuinely c-concerned for your s-safety…"

"Concerned for my safety, my arse. This is all just a way for him to have a right jolly laugh, the bloody git."

Willy swallowed once before covertly trying to wipe the beads of sweat off his brow. "If you don't mind, s-sir…could we b-begin?"

"Get on with it. And know that I will have my wand trained on you at all times." To emphasize his point, Draco drew out his wand from behind him and pointed it right between Willy's small eyes.

"Y-yes!" squeaked the coward as he threw his hands above his head and raised himself up on the balls of his feet. "All right, so f-first we need to stretch the s-spine…"

With a great sigh of annoyance, Draco stowed away his wand and lethargically followed the idiotic man's instructions. As he heard various parts of his body crack and pop from time to time, he found himself gritting his teeth incessantly. After nearly ten minutes of useless twisting and bending, Willy came to a pause.

"S-Sir," he said, his face splotched with red and sweat forming once again on his temples. "Mr. Zabini asked m-me to have you do j-just one more thing."

Draco silently stared as Willy dropped to the floor on his back and, with great difficulty, raised his legs up in the air so that he was practically vertical. "A-as you c-can see," Willy wheezed as he struggled to position his arms correctly on the floor beside him. "This is p-purely a q-question of balance!"

Trying to ignore the other man's jiggling girth, Draco asked incredulously, "Does Zabini really think I'm going to do that?"

"Mr. Zabini a-asked me to i-insist, Mr. Malfoy," Willy grunted. The effort to defy gravity was certainly taking a hefty toll on him. He sounded more constipated than anything else.

I won't do it. I refuse. I refuse to let my hair touch this filthy floor, and I absolutely refuse to reduce myself to this prat's level.

"P-please!" Willy cried. It was hard to tell if the drops plummeting from his face were his tears or sweat. "This is the l-last one, sir! P-please get it over with!" Pitiful.

"Fucking waste of my time," Draco muttered as he performed a quick cleansing charm on his area before lying on his back. "I'm warning you," he called over as he placed his arms by his sides. "If I end up breaking my neck, hell won't even be the tip of the iceberg for what you'll have to pay."

"U-understood!"

Inhaling deeply, Draco planted his shoulder blades against the floor and gazed up at the ceiling. If that fat pig can do it, this'll be a piece of cake for me. Just as he prepared to lift his legs, the room's door flew open and there stood Granger in the same dratted pants he had on and a tank top. Eager to show that he didn't care an ounce for her presence, Draco swung his legs up in one fluid motion until his feet were perfectly pointed.

Too bad his pants decided to come down in one fluid motion.

The rush of air that suddenly attacked his legs caused the fine hairs on his body to stand on end, but what really caused Draco to lose his mind was the fact that the whole damn fabric of his pants was gathered in a bunch at the apex of his thighs, meaning that everything from his feet to his inner thighs was exposed. Every. Damn. Thing.

"M-Malfoy," Granger choked, her voice strained with poorly concealed amusement and a contradictory desire to appear indifferent. "Blaise says it's time to…er…start." Draco could see her eyes traveling down his legs, and she actually had to put a hand over her mouth when they reached his boxers.

Of all days to wear the ones with the fucking Pygmy Puffs…

"I'll head down there, then," she said finally after enough awkward seconds had passed consisting of her attempting to be mature. She waited a beat to see if he would respond, but the only sound she received in return was Willy gasping for breath like a dying fish. With what sounded suspiciously like quiet cackle, she left. Draco was sure he'd seen her shoulders shaking as she'd turned.

The instant the door closed, Draco dropped his lower body to the ground and scrambled to his feet, only to pounce on the wretched pawn of that loathsome "friend" of his. He shoved Willy's legs down and grabbed the man by his shirt.

"You will not breathe a word of that to anyone," he hissed, his nose inches from Willy's face. "Is that clear?"

Willy looked like he was going to drown the whole goddamn country with his bodily fluids. "Y-y-yes," he whimpered, his arms now dangling like worms.

Draco pushed him back and brandished his wand to reinforce his threat before stomping out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

"Of all the fucking dickheads in the world to be best friends with, I had to choose the goddamn king!" he seethed. "And bloody Granger saw me…"

Oh, shit. Granger. Ah, I'm not worried. She's smart enough to know I'll kill her if word of this gets out. Hopefully.

He was soon met by one of the photographer's new assistants whose name tag read "Philip Moon." The rail-thin man wore a simple diamond stud in one ear, and a purple vest sparkled over an outfit consisting of tight pleather pants and and a shimmery black mesh shirt. Pinkish lips curled up in a saucy smile and Draco noted subtle sparkles on the man's eyelids and eyelashes. Moon was blatantly gay and maddeningly chipper.

This day just keeps better and better, doesn't it? We might as well slit our own throats right here right now.

"Come, come, Mr. Malfoy," Moon called in a twangy voice. As he waved his hand around, Draco caught flashes of orange and green nails. "I've been looking for you. It is time for your shoot!"

Draco grunted and walked alongside the flamboyant man who was currently chattering at a thousand miles per hour.

"Oh, isn't this just delightful! My very first assignment and I get to help out one of the hottest men in the world do his thing! Oh, I could just die from joy! Do you like taking photos, Mr. Malfoy? I'd imagine you do, hm, with that exquisite face of yours. But oh, what on earth are you wearing, my dear sir? The person who dressed you in that get-up ought to be hanged and quartered, I say. My, but aren't you so handsome in real life!"

Draco slowly edged away and remarked with a raised eyebrow, "You're certainly very chatty."

Moon laughed and Draco was disturbed to find it almost perfectly feminine. "Oh, darling, it's in my blood. I simply can't let another human being get on with their life until I've talked them to death, and then some. And of course I couldn't pass by a perfect specimen such as yourself, so I'm afraid you'll have to take my mouth for what it is, hm?"

Draco felt his stomach clench with unease when the other man winked at him. Great. Just what I need. Flirting with another man. That's the ticket, eh, old boy?

"We're here!" Moon trilled as the two entered the studio. Moon was immediately whisked away by a now somewhat decently dressed Willy, while Blaise took it upon himself to walk over to Draco.

"Save your breath," Draco snarled as Blaise smiled and opened his mouth to say something. "I'll deal with you later."

Blaise smirked and shrugged. "All I wanted to tell you was that your dressing room is over there. Moon will sort you out. In case you're curious, Hermione's already changing, so no need to wait up for her."

"Oh good, because I was so worried."

"Shut up and go do your job, Draco. You have twenty minutes."

Blaise strolled off and Draco spun around to stalk angrily into his dressing room where Moon was already laying out the required clothing. Draco threw himself into an armchair and watched the sparkly beanpole carefully place a pair of silky black pants on the table and a single black tie.

After a few moments, Draco asked gruffly, "Where's the rest of it?"

Moon clapped his hands together with glee. "This is the whole ensemble, darling!"

I am NOT a fucking "darling!"

"You're shitting me."

"Oh no, sir, I'm not," Moon said very seriously as he dug around in a large bag. He rapidly pulled out two bottles of oil and a vial of the "Temptation" perfume (which Draco was itching to smash over someone's head). "It's all supposed to be very sexy, very hot. Trust me, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Zabini knows what he's doing."

Patience, Draco, patience. "And what the hell is the oil for?"

Moon grinned. "Why, to smear all over that sculpted torso of yours, of course! Remember what I said about sexy?"

I am going to smear your face all over the walls if you don't stop smiling at me. "Fine. Get out so I can change."

"Oh, but –"

"You'll get your chance to doll me up once I'm through changing," Draco said sharply. "For now, I'd like some privacy."

"But Mr. Zab-"

"Leave."

With another girly laugh, Moon danced out, leaving Draco to peel off his damned yoga clothes and tug on the silk pants. He tossed the tie around his neck before saying, "Come in."

Moon skipped in and examined Draco. "Perfect, darling!" he cried in approval. "That's exactly how he wants the tie. Oh, and you'll be barefoot, so don't bother with shoes. Now then, you've got to rub the oil over yourself…"

Draco gave Moon a pointed look, and the other man's face fell for a half-second before he waltzed out again, this time whistling an upbeat tune. With a sigh, Draco reached for one of the bottles of oil lying on the dresser and snapped open the lid. He began to industriously rub the sticky stuff all over his chest, stomach, arms, and even managed to do his back. No way am I letting Moon massage me with this shit. Once he was sure he looked enough like a cheap pornstar (because really, isn't that what we all aspire to be?), he opened his door to allow Moon back in.

"Okay, last thing!" Moon exclaimed as he grabbed his wand.

Draco instinctively felt for his own wand beside him. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, calm down, Mr. Malfoy. I'm not going to hex you. I just need to style your hair a wee bit."

"My hair is fine the way it is." Like I'd let you touch it.

"Even so, we just need to kind of give it a more 'bedheadish' look."

Moon muttered something under his breath and Draco watched his hair ruffle itself a bit so that the locks fell around his face in a bit of a disarray.

Moon stepped back to see his handiwork. "Perfect," 'he said smugly.

"Moon! It's time!" Norma yelled from outside.

Without a word, Draco pocketed his wand and strode out of the dressing room into the studio where stood the same backdrop Granger had used for her individual shots the first day.

Blaise gave Draco the once-over and grinned. "Well, don't you look tasty," causing Draco to direct his middle finger in the snickering Italian's direction.

"Ah, Hermione!" Blaise called, looking over Draco's shoulder. "My god, you look…delectable."

Draco slowly rotated on the spot to sneer at the creature he'd be posing with and nearly let his jaw drop in surprise.

There she stood, clad in nothing more than a flimsy black chemise edged with lace and pair of very short black shorts. Her hair was also mussed, but for once, it actually suited her face. Stray curls bounced grazed her slightly flushed cheeks and her brown eyes were darkly lined and smudged at the edges. Draco felt his eyes move at a snail's pace, from her cupid's bow lips to her arched neck, down her visible soft curves, and along her lightly tanned and toned legs. A silver anklet encircled her slender ankle, and Draco found himself wondering how far his fingers would overlap were he to wrap his hand around that ankle…

"Thank you," she mumbled shyly. Draco noticed she was turning redder and redder by the second. Maybe it had to do with his being half-naked. *smirk* "Are we ready now?"

Blaise nodded, his gaze still fixed on Hermione. "Yes, definitely. Draco, come on."

Draco wordlessly padded over to the carpeted area and waited for someone to bark out instructions so that he could get this over with as fast as possible. Granger silently stood next to him and resiliently kept her eyes trained on Norma who was fiddling with her camera knobs.

"Wait!" Moon cried as he dashed in. "You almost forgot the main piece itself!" He handed the perfume to Draco with a smile and whispered to Hermione, "You look heavenly, darling. I might even go straight for you."

As he walked back to stand next to Willy and Blaise, Norma peered over her viewfinder at her two subjects and cleared her throat. "Ahem. So. This shoot is of a seductive and passionate nature. I don't want to force you both to take more time than is needed, so cooperate to your best ability please."

Granger gave the woman a tight smile and quickly nodded once.

"Since it'll be too hard to just verbally dictate everything, I'm going to show you pictures of how I want you to position yourselves. I'll then handle the minor details. Let's begin." Norma used her wand to project in front of her an image of a faceless man and woman locked in what appeared to be a passionate embrace. She nodded at the two people staring wide-eyed back at her to indicate they should begin.

Granger turned towards Draco and said haltingly, "Erm, I suppose this is it." Her cheeks were burning fiercely.

Draco shot Blaise a single look of pure venom before facing the apprehensive witch. With a sigh of frustration, he reached out, grabbed her by the waist, and jerked her forward so that she had to flatten her hands against his chest to steady herself.

She gasped and glared up at him. "Did you really have to do that?"

He made to smirk down at her and found himself staring into big, anxious brown eyes. Eyes that seemed to swallow him whole. Something began to flit around in his stomach, but the thing was, the feeling wasn't all that uncomfortable.

Norma said, "Okay, that's great! Hold it! Don't look away from each other!"

Easy for you to say, woman.

Draco forced himself to keep up the staring contest with Granger. He felt her hands slipping millimeter by millimeter down his chest and mentally cursed Blaise yet again for wanting to use the stupid oil. He could feel how tense Granger was in his arms, and between the camera flashes, he mumbled, "Damn it, Granger. Try to loosen up a little. It feels like I'm holding a dead giantess."

She scowled at him but allowed herself to relax a bit. Her shoulders curved down a little and Draco felt her fingers inch back up to rest higher up on his chest. The sensation caused him to involuntarily clench his jaw, but he could swear he saw her doing the same thing.

"Okay," Norma called as she projected another image. "Next one."

Draco watched as a picture appeared of the man and woman engaged in some kind of dance move where the woman had to literally lift her leg up to the side as high as possible while the man supported her from behind.

Granger made an odd noise before saying in an unnaturally high-pitched voice, "Blaise, really. I can't do that! There's no way!"

Blaise gave her a grim smile. "Told you there was a reason for the yoga. Good luck."

Granger helplessly turned back to Draco, her face clouded with worry and embarrassment. He rolled his eyes at her and muttered, "Let's just get the damn thing over with, Granger."

Heaving a great sigh, Granger stepped directly in front of Draco and placed her left hand in his left hand. "You're going to have to help me hold my other leg up," she said quietly as she gently steadied her back against his chest. With an almost inaudible sigh, she lifted her right leg up and extended it as far as she could. Draco immediately grabbed her calf and pushed it up even further until her foot was practically right next to his ear. She then had to balance herself on the ball of her left foot so that she could tilt her head back slightly on top of Draco's right shoulder.

"Merlin's pants," she whispered. "This bloody hurts."

"You're doing brilliantly, Hermione," Blaise called, his voice tinged with amazement. "Just give Norma a minute to take all the shots she needs."

Draco could feel her swaying slightly and tightened his grip on her hand. Her hair tickled him where it draped over his skin, and he was becoming all too familiar with the hips which were now pressed up against him. "Don't say anything," he whispered back. "Just focus on not falling."

"I need you to burn the camera with your eyes, Mr. Malfoy!" Norma urged from behind her camera. "You need to exude passion and torment. The woman of your dreams is right there with you. I need you to channel that feeling of lust and possessiveness."

Draco exhaled loudly and complied. He was surprised to find Granger giggling a second later. "Why are you laughing?" he whispered.

"Sorry," she replied quietly, her tone something other than pissed for a change. "You blew into my ear and it tickled a bit."

He didn't say anything to this, just continued to stare adamantly into the lens ahead of him. This changes nothing, Draco. Just because her lady parts are within an inch of your man parts, it doesn't mean anything. This is pure business, and you hate it. Remember? You hate it.

"All right, last one," Norma announced.

This time, the two were met with an image of the man sitting down in a chair with his back to the camera while the woman sat on his lap facing forward.

Draco hissed, "I am going to kill Blaise." Slowly and painfully. Oh, it will be glorious to see him burn. Simply glorious.

Granger refused to meet his eyes until he'd thrown himself onto a chair Willy had dragged on, but the real moment of truth came when she had to actually sit down on his lap. She bit her lips and miserably studied the floating image where the woman's legs were spread open and bent at the knees over the man. Granger closed her eyes for a brief second as if pleading for mercy from some divinity before swinging herself over Draco's lap and gingerly resting her body on his.

Draco tightened his fists at the sudden warmth that now spread over his upper thighs and willed himself to think of anything but the present situation. Avocados. Thestrals. Pancakes. Curtains.

"Miss Granger, could you please turn your head so that your lips are next to Mr. Malfoy's ears? And smile a little so that the photo has a playful element."

Granger did as she was told and Draco soon felt her hot breath repeatedly enveloping his ear. He'd tightened his fists so much, his knuckles looked like they would tear through his skin all at once.

You hate her, you hate her, you hate her, you hate her… Damn these rampant hormones!

After what felt like a thousand shutter clicks, Norma packed up her equipment with a flick of her wand and smiled. "Thank you both, thank you. I think we really got some winning ones today."

In the blink of an eye, Granger had leapt off of Draco and was busy tugging her chemise down as far as it would go. Draco also got to his feet; the warmth still lingered on his legs.

Blaise lightly applauded from where he'd been sitting and then stood up and stretched contentedly. "That went remarkably smoothly. Not to point out the obvious or anything, but you two were extraordinary together." He addressed Draco, "I really think we got the shots Foxworth was talking about, mate."

Draco grunted once more before turning his back on Blaise and sauntering off without a second glance at either Granger or his friend. Blaise watched him go and make an impatient "tsk tsk" noise, but if only he'd known the mantra Draco was repeating over and over again in his head:

You hate her, you hate her, you hate her, you hate her….

...

Later that night, Hermione attacked her dishes with an uncommon ferocity, scrubbing so hard it seemed the sponge itself would be torn to shreds.

It was just a photo shoot, 'Mione. Nothing else. So what if you were forced to press your body against his? It's all in the name of business. Why don't you just grow a pair?

She sighed, set down the plate she'd been attacking mercilessly, and clutched the edge of the counter with both hands. Who could blame her for being so flustered? It had been so long since she'd last come into such close contact with a man…

Pathetic. The word rang true through her mind. It really was pathetic. Here she was, sighing and squirming like a punch-drunk nymphomaniac out of a bad romance. Pathetic.

She dried her hands on a towel and wearily walked over to her living room to watch some television when she heard someone knock on her door. At this hour? She hurried over and opened the door to reveal one tall, imposing Malfoy with a side order of bitterness and scorn. She nearly slammed the door in his face too, but he stepped in without an invitation and began to eye his surroundings with clear distaste.

"Funny, I didn't expect you to live in such a hovel, Granger."

She let the door swing back on its own accord and crossed her arms over her chest. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

He raised an eyebrow at her in that stupid, haughty way of his. "Be polite, Granger. Most hostesses typically offer their guests refreshments."

"You are not a guest," she retorted with gritted teeth. "And the only refreshment I'd like to offer you is the Draught of Living Death. So please, if you're done being an arse as usual, could you kindly tell me what you're here for?"

"You left your bloody wand at the studio," he said scathingly. Sure enough, he pulled out her wand from his back pocket and thrust it towards her. "Who the hell leaves a wand behind like that?"

Her innards suddenly doing the rumba, Hermione dashed forward and quickly grabbed the wand from his hand. "It was an accident. I can assure you it's not a habit." My god, I hadn't even realized it was lost.

He stood there, waiting for her to say something else. She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Did you need something?"

"Most people say something to indicate gratitude when someone does something nice for them."

"And I'm so glad your Pureblood parents made you swallow a manners book when you were younger."

"Say it, Granger. I'd love to hear those words."

"Get out of my house, Malfoy."

He made a buzzing sound. "No, no, that's not the right sentence. Come on now, you know what it is."

"Get. Out."

"Such a pity you Gryffindors never let up that damn pride of yours," he drawled as he began walking towards her. "So many fights could have been averted."

"Big words coming from a true Slytherin whose ego is so big, it could eclipse the sun."

He was only a foot away from her when he stopped walking. "Just say it, Granger. Two little words that'll make my day. I did you two favors today, didn't I? First I let you get your thrills from my body, and then I brought your wand to you. That warrants a little gratitude, don't you think?"

Two words? Fuck you.

Hermione raised her wand and touched it lightly to his chest. "Don't come any closer, ferret."

He sneered at her and made to grab the wand out of her hand when suddenly, he froze. His eyes began to bulge slightly and his mouth fell open as if he'd been stunned. For a moment, he wavered on the spot, his legs tensed like he was about to run a race.

And then he collapsed right on top of her, causing her to topple backwards and hit her head against the foot of the coffee table. She struggled to throw him off of her, but it proved to be difficult to toss off that much weight all at once. She painstakingly scooted out from underneath him and then rolled him over so that she could see his face. His eyes were tightly closed and his chest wasn't rising and falling like a normal person's would. She lightly slapped his face, but there was no reaction. She called his name a few times but that didn't help either.

Okay, breathe, Hermione, breathe. You're not going to panic.

That's right. She was calm and composed. She wasn't panicking.

She pressed her ear against his chest, but it was hard to tell if his heartbeat would be discernable through all the layers, so she took her pointer and middle fingers and pressed them to the pulse point at his throat.

It was then that she began to panic…

…because Malfoy had no pulse.

...

To all of my unregistered reviewers: Thank you SO much for all the kind things you've said. Kitty, ee, crystalline, Sparrow (adored your review, my friend!), dmgh4ev, and all my old veterans:; thank you, thank you, thank you.

le temps: I really hope I did your hopes some justice...

waterflower20: Here it is, the part where they have to model together! I'm not very good with writing sensual stuff (I can imagine it, sure, but writing it out without sounding like some deadbeat out of an erotica novel is actually really really hard unless it comes naturally. Which it doesn't for me, haha.) Let me know if it met your expectations!

Gemsibob: That is an amazing compliment. I am REALLY glad you feel converted. Trust me, as much as people like to rag on Dramione for being stupid and completely pointless and out of touch with the books, there is always that element of "love between enemies" that turns out to be irresistible. All that impassioned anger and frustration...mmmmm, mwahaha. And of course, Draco is MEANT to be angry and sexy and just a total beast. That's HIM. ;)

sarahclare: Hahaha, breast augmentation! *snickers*

x. enchanted. x. : I just love you, you know that?

Serpent of Slytherin:; I'm back! Come and leave me a review in Arabic, yeah?

MUCH LOVE TO YOU ALL, AND ALL MY OTHER REVIEWERS WHO I DIDN'T SPECIFY (don't worry, I don't love you any less, I just feel my fingers cramping up, that's all)!

Review, message me, whatever. Just show me you still care...