Pickup Lines

Chapter 3

Disclaimer: The clock on the mantelpiece could tick till the end of time, but even then, Harry Potter and its characters still wouldn't belong to me.

Summary: Every Sunday morning at the Three Broomsticks, when Hermione drinks her hot chocolate and catches up on the latest issues, a persistent blond man would always interrupt her routine by doing embarrassing things. "Can I borrow a Sickle? I want to tell my mother I just met the girl of my dreams." A series of meetings/interruptions. Dramione.

Dedicated to: Zoe tabbycat, Liv76, kim, Alli. Toxic, and Just Your Above Average Malfoy

For being good girls/ boys and REVIEWING! (cheers) Seriously, guys? 5 REVIEWS! Thank you so much…

(As stated previously, the order of your names do not affect the amount of my gratitude)

*Pickup Lines*

The difference between humor and tragedy is that humor is when it happens to someone else. ~Unknown

This was bad. Very bad.

"What exactly was very bad?" you might ask. "Come on, you're the great Draco Malfoy, famous undercover spy, who has everything going for him except in the romance department, and even that is going to be solved if everything goes according to plan. What would cause you to think a thing was bad?"

Well, the answer was quite simple, and it was – drum roll, please – the fiery temper of a certain Gryffindor with distinguishable brown hair. Yes, you're right! It is Hermione Jean Granger.

Now, do stop celebrating your success and focus on poor Draco's predicament…

"That Chaput is such an arrogant jerk," Hermione scowled fiercely, grounding her teeth together as she glared at the cherry wood coffee table. Surprisingly, it didn't disintegrate into flames, and Draco thanked whatever great entity up there who was blessing him. He had already been on the receiving end of her anger multiple times, and was secretly smug that he was now the one watching another person being verbally abused.

"I mean, what's wrong with supporting house elf rights?" She practically growled, slamming her palms on the coffee table. Draco shrank back into the soft stuffing of his seat, mentally replacing the coffee table with his cheek and wincing at the pain he would have received, if that was to happen. Maybe this wouldn't be as fun as he had expected. Right on cue, Mister Radford appeared, steaming cup in hand. Saved by the bell – no, manager of the pub. With a murmured apology for the long wait, Radford quickly scampered back to the safety of the bar. Lucky, smart bastard. Draco envied him deeply.

"I don't even know how Chaput got on the Wizengamot. I mean, he's French. He wasn't even born in Britain. Not that I'm a racist or anything, of course –" She took a sip of her hot chocolate – "But he's on the British Wizengamot! That doesn't make any sense."

"And if that wasn't not bad enough," Hermione continued her rant, "he was the one that discouraged most of the Wizengamot from supporting my cause. There I was, giving my speech, and then all of a sudden, he steps out and says in that ridiculous French accent of his that house elves rights are complete rubbish!"

Draco made the appropriate "oh dear" comments, taking extreme care not to allow any sarcasm to enter his tone. If he was fortunate, he would have succeeded.

"I know, right? And the last straw was when he comes up to me after my presentation, tells me that I should be spending my time and effort on better issues, offers me a job at his stupid company, and tries to feel me up."

"What? Are you kidding me?" Draco sat bolt upright, leaning anxiously towards Hermione. "That son of a bitch. He tried to feel you up? You should sue him!"

She gave him a pleading look. "Uh… Draco? Everyone's looking at us…" She gestured discreetly towards their now captive audience.

"Oh…"

There was a very, very awkward silence when they both looked anywhere but at each other. It was not an easy feat, and it lasted for five decades. Okay, so it was just five minutes. Finally, after those extraordinarily long five minutes, Draco couldn't bear the tense silence any longer.

"Hey, Hermione."

"Yes?" Her glance was still directed somewhere behind him, and Draco too turned around to see what was so interesting.

Oh… It was just an old woman; nothing special. She had an unnerving stare, though. Was that special? Anyway, back to the conversation.

"Hermione, do you have any raisins?"

She gave him one of her looks. No, not the 'you-will-drop-dead-now-or-else' look; the 'what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-you' look. "No, as a matter of fact, I do not have any raisins. Why? Would you like me to order some from Radford?" Hermione asked in an exasperated voice.

"No, that won't be necessary. But since you don't have raisins, then can you give me a date?" Draco looked at her with his wide puppy dog eyes, in the hopes that she would give in to the magical powers of his mesmerizing stormy eyes. Instead of his predicted results, in which Hermione happily agreed and they skipped off into the sunset, she just laughed – long and hard.

"What the hell is wrong with you, woman?" Draco hissed disbelievingly. "I just bloody asked you for a date, and you laugh like… like… like a hyena?"

"Alright, that wasn't very charming, Draco, calling a girl a hyena," Hermione managed to choke out when her chuckles subsided. "But seriously, do you know how you looked like just now?"

She doubled over, the image of Draco's attempted puppy dog eyes bringing on another laughing fit. "You – looked – so – adorably – silly!" If she kept on chortling for say, another minute, she would have ended up rolling on the floor.

"I am not adorable, nor am I silly!" he insisted, fist clenched. "Men are neither adorable nor silly. Especially not me. I am completely manly."

This just fueled Hermione's fit. "You… Manly…" After giving a very unladylike snort, she composed herself.

"Back to the topic… No, Draco, I do not have a date. Kindly keep that in mind."

Shit. Attempt Number 2 at Wooing Hermione Granger via Witty Pickup Lines – fail.

A/N: Yes… I know I am 24 hours late. :( But I had dance lessons yesterday morning, and since our dance competition is just one measly little week away, my teachers transformed from nice teacher to slave-driver… Not a good thing. And so I was completely knackered, and… Yeah. I was too busy trying to relief my aching muscles to write. Sorry… (embarrassed look)

Anyway, I made it up to you by presenting this chapter, right? Yay, me! And guess who is the old woman Hermione was staring at… Shouldn't be too hard, right? (cough, chapter 1, cough)

I hope you like this chapter, 'cause I did it in kind of a rush. I was scared you guys would kill me; or at the very least, torture me. If you didn't like this, then perhaps you'll like the next one better. I've got a good idea for it, and personally, I have a feeling it's going to be one of my favourite chapters.

Lastly, I have a request… Or rather, an invitation. Again, I'll use capital and bold letters:

IF YOU HAVE ANY PARTICULAR PICKUP LINE YOU WOULD LIKE ME TO MAKE USE OF, YOU ARE MOST WELCOME TO TELL ME SO IN A REVIEW. :D

So… Thanks for reading, guys!

Bianca tabbycat

P.S. I have school again tomorrow, so updates are going to be irregular… I apologize in advance!

P.P.S. Please, don't kill me! (shrinks away)