Saturday morning found Hermione Granger listlessly lying down on the sofa, watching some drama on the telly. She was up about four hours ago and had since then been on a movie marathon. Somehow, she discovered herself waiting for Malfoy to wake up.
Then she heard her bedroom door creak open a little bit.
Speak of the devil.
She usually left the door open so that Malfoy could get out, but she had always figured pompous Malfoy would throw his weight around and open it wider, just because he can. It had only been a week since Malfoy had, quite literally, catwalked into her flat and already she felt like he owned the place more than she did. When the Potioners came over to collect samples of hair from Malfoy, he confidently walked towards them and patiently waited for them to snip off a little bit of his fur and get some blood sample, all the while with his nose up in the air.
Quite suddenly, the face of the heroine on the telly was blocked by a mass of white passing through just to pause right directly in front of her line of vision.
"Hello, Grumpy," Hermione greeted.
Said mass of white's head turned to look at her and as expected, he did look grumpy. However, Hermione noticed, it wasn't out of spite or anything – his eyes were narrowed of course, but he was blinking plenty, trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes and clear his vision.
It made quite an adorable picture, Hermione mused, smiling lopsidedly. He fully turned towards her, looking at her, and then at the sofa, and then back at her.
She knew what he wanted, and she was too lazy to move to make room for him. So, she hoisted him up and then dropped him on the space next to her lap, with his front paws landed directly on her clothed thigh. If Malfoy had complaints about the previous treatment, he didn't get to voice it out – not like he can anyway – because his eyes shut as Hermione began to scratch his head.
Lost in bliss, he began to knead Hermione's thigh with his paws, head coming to meet Hermione's hand. And then his claws came out in time with his kneading so it was inadvertently him puncturing Hermione's thigh.
"Ouch, Malfoy," Hermione carped softly. It didn't hurt as much as it would have if she didn't have anything covering her thigh, but occasionally his claws would pierce the material and stab her skin. She half-expected Malfoy to send her a maniacal look and sink his claws into her deeper, but all he did was rest his head on top of his paws that in turn were resting on Hermione's thigh, and closed his eyes, sighing deeply.
"Back to sleep?" Hermione chuckled. Needless to say, cats sleep throughout seventy percent of their lives – and that's probably around 19 hours a day.
That made Hermione wonder how much did the real Malfoy sleep? And then somehow, without her brain's permission, the image warped into the real Malfoy sleeping on her lap – whoa, how did that get there so fast? – and despite deducing that the picture of Malfoy, all shocking white-blond hair and pale skin and all that had his head in her lap while napping, made a weird oh-my-god-that-will-never-ever-happen train of thought go through her, she couldn't help but blush at how domesticated, sweet and romantic all that seemed.
She shook her head out of her reverie and continued watching the movie. Not long after, her eyes became heavier with how cosy a position she was currently in, especially since some white cat was radiating comfortable warmth.
She was already on the precipice of falling asleep, tumbling into unconsciousness, completely missing two almost-inaudible sounds of 'pop', and then –
"'MIONE!" came a loud, blaring voice, "OH, 'MIONE!"
Hermione's eyes snapped open, and so did Malfoy's.
"Shh, shut the fuck up Ron, what if she's sleeping?!" came the voice of Harry Potter.
"Who would sleep at this hour?!" Ron almost-shouted. "HEY, 'MIONE! YOOHOO! Where are you?"
Hermione straightened into a seated position, throwing her hand at the back of the sofa to glare at the quite-intruders currently standing in the middle of her flat.
"WHAT?!" she answered irritably.
"Oh, there you are!" Ron said too-cheerfully, swinging a small, securely-wrapped bundle in his hands.
"You ought to be careful with that, Ron. You might spill the potion inside," Harry warned, shaking his head at Ron. Ron grinned at him sheepishly before setting the bundle on the table.
Hermione rolled her eyes and got up to stand, walking towards them.
"Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what the fuck did I say about at least warning me that you two are coming over?" Hermione scolded, hands on her hips and right bunny-slippered foot tapping (she had put a charm on it now so that it could not be damaged, because Malfoy had ruined it the first few days he arrived. She fixed it and placed an indestructible charm on it, much to Malfoy's disconsolation).
"I know that's what I said to Ron earlier on but no," Harry said, dragging out the 'no' and glaring at Ron, "He prefers to do it like he usually does!"
"But it's 'Mione, Harry," Ron began to protest.
"And a woman," Hermione interjected, "What if I had been walking around naked?"
Ron burst out laughing at that, and Harry had to step on his foot before Hermione hexed him with something incredibly painful.
"If you were naked, 'Mione," Ron said, muffling his laughter, "I think Harry and I would be the least of your concerns, I think Malfoy would be at the top of that list."
Hermione was about to throttle him to death, but Harry stood in between them, being the diplomatic bloke that he is, and changed the topic, "Speaking of Malfoy, where is he?"
Just then, the three of them turned to the sofa, where a very pissed-off-looking Malfoy was perched on the top of the sofa, claws digging into the cushions for support with his tail curling dangerously.
"Well, hello there, mate," Harry grinned, walking towards him and ruffling the fur at the top of Malfoy's head. "How are you doing?"
Malfoy just looked at him grouchily but made no attempt to mutilate Harry's hand. Hermione watched with interest, always suspecting that Malfoy liked Harry better than Ron. Well, everybody likes Harry better than Ron – that git.
"Oh, hey Malfoy! Here pussy, pussy, pussy!" Ron laughed, also attempting to get closer to Malfoy, but Malfoy's eyes almost flashed red for a bit before Malfoy launched himself at Ron. Ron yelped in shock but wasn't fast enough to throw Malfoy off. Malfoy sunk his claws into Ron's shoulders and began to use one paw with extra evil-looking claws to strike Ron's face.
"MALFOY!"
"MALFOY!"
"MALFOY!"
Three voices chorused – Ron in an indignant and almost-fearful manner as he dodged the attack by mere centimetres, Harry in an amused tone and Hermione in a surprised one.
"GEDDITOFF, GEDDITOFF!" Ron wailed frightfully.
Harry was too busy clutching his stomach as he doubled over in laughter, and Hermione stormed towards Ron, yanking Malfoy off Ron.
"Fucking cat!" Ron howled, rubbing his hands all over his face as he checked for injuries. "Do I have blood anywhere?"
"Oh, come off it Ron, you deserved that and you know it," Hermione hissed at him, with Malfoy growling at Ron in her arms.
"Why, you little -" Ron said, looking redder than his hair and advancing with his hands looking like he wanted to strangle Malfoy.
"RON!" Hermione shouted as she turned slightly to the side, acting as a shield with her arms tightening around Malfoy protectively.
"Ron, you've already done what you originally came here to do, so let's just be off and not prolong the itinerary," Harry said tactfully. Ron seemed to calm down at that and shot a glare at Malfoy before walking over to the table.
Hermione put Malfoy down on the carpet gently, watching Ron as he walked back to her with the same small package he had brought earlier.
"This is the cure for Malfoy," Ron said, and Hermione took the proffered package.
"Oh, that's wonderful," Hermione answered, looking at Malfoy who was currently seated next to her bunny-slippered foot and watching the package intently, "You'll be free!"
Ron snorted at that.
"And then maybe, you can finally beat the hell out of Ron properly," Hermione said cheerfully. Malfoy's eyes landed on Ron after what Hermione said, and it narrowed deviously.
Ron gulped and walked to stand next to Harry, as if for extra protection.
"You need to inject Malfoy with that though," Harry informed her, and Malfoy's ears perked up.
"Oh?" Hermione looked at the package before ripping off the wrappings. She opened the box and saw a vial that held faintly-glowing turquoise liquid in it. Placed next to it was a needle syringe, wrapped in airtight plastic.
"That's almost Muggle," Hermione grinned, referring to the needle syringe.
"Well, yes, they thought that Malfoy would take too long to sip it, being in a cat form and all, so yeah," Harry said, "It would be better to just inject it straight into his blood system."
"Alright then," Hermione nodded.
"Before he sleeps tonight," Harry added.
"Okay," she nodded again, placing the box in one of the empty shelves, "I'll remember to do that."
"Well, we'll be off then," Harry said with finality. Hermione nodded and kissed him goodbye on the cheek before hugging Ron and doing the same.
"Stop being such an idiot," Hermione said fondly and ruffled Ron's hair, to which he grinned sheepishly.
"Bye, 'Mione," Ron said.
"And let us know what happens," Harry asked, pointing at Malfoy.
"I will. Bye, you two," she waved.
With two 'pop's, they both disappeared.
"Well, Malfoy, that's very good news for you then," she grinned at Malfoy, who was preening. "Tonight will be the end of your misery."
And the end of your company, Hermione thought regretfully.
Somehow Malfoy had grew on her, somehow she had got used to this cat with a personality. Would it be the same then after he reverts back to his normal form? Probably not.
Wistfully, Hermione realized that she wouldn't mind taking the time to get to know Malfoy. And that happened after he had turned into a cat. If she was able to live with the judgemental looks and the insolent behaviour around the house, she could handle almost anything Malfoy threw her way, she thought.
We shall see, shall we?
"Now, what shall we do?" Hermione hummed, "What do you think of pancakes?"
Immediately, Malfoy stopped mid-grooming and licked his mouth.
"Well that's settled then, let's have some pancakes," Hermione smiled brightly. Pancakes on a Saturday afternoon sounded ideal at that moment.
"Oh no, don't stop on my account," Hermione jeered at Malfoy who had stopped cleaning himself, "Do keep making yourself look pretty. I'll let you know when pancakes are done."
With an eye-roll from Malfoy, she laughed and rolled up her sleeves.
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"Would you like more honey with that?" Hermione offered while chewing on savoury pancakes.
Malfoy just moved back from his plate a bit and allowed Hermione to squeeze more honey on top of his half-mauled pancakes.
"I should probably make more," Hermione said as she eyed the last pancake left on the plate, before getting up and getting to work.
"So I was thinking, Malfoy," Hermione began as she flipped the pancake on the pan, "Maybe, after you turn back to your normal self, we should umm," she gulped. Why did she start this again? "Maybe we should grab a drink somewhere, sometime."
Hermione waited for an answer, and before she let herself feel defeated, she vaguely remembered that Malfoy can't really respond to that. She glanced at him and found that he was already watching her.
And as clear as the day, Hermione saw him blink once.
'Yes'.
Hermione smiled, "Great."
And then she realized how fast her heart was beating and she took a deep breath to calm herself down.
Oh come on, girl. You're already getting worked up over him when he's in his cat form, how else are you going to handle him when he's himself again?
Hermione bit on her lip. Oh, that would probably be really difficult.
Draco Malfoy, in all his handsomeness. Grey, intense non-cat eyes, lovely nose and equally lovely lips. His smell, his air, his whole person, really.
Something in Hermione growled at that thought, and it wasn't her stomach.
Hermione had just scooped up a couple of pancakes onto the empty plate on the table before taking one for Malfoy, who had just diligently finished the one before and was waiting for another.
"Your appetite -" Hermione was about to comment, but got cut off by the sound of the doorbell and some sort of pressure on her wards. "Now who is that? Today seems like 'Bother Hermione Day'."
Hermione walked over to her door and swung it open.
"Hello, Granger," a charming, boyish, Scottish accent voiced.
Hermione's eyebrows raised a little.
"Oh, hey, Wood," Hermione greeted.
She had totally forgotten all about Oliver Wood and his existence.
Which is quite a feat, really – because who could forget Oliver Wood just like that? After all, it had only been days since she saw him after a long time.
Obviously, her mind had been preoccupied by something.
Something that was currently wolfing down pancakes in the kitchen.
"You look a little surprised to see me," Oliver commented with a smile, "Have you forgotten all about me?"
Just then, a bang resounded from the kitchen.
"No! Not at all, I just, umm," she began to think about what to say to him while wondering what on earth had happened to Malfoy in the kitchen.
"Oh, so you did," Oliver brought a hand to his chest, "I'm hurt, Granger. I did say I'd come by to visit you for tea. I thought since I just got done with everything, I'd come by and fulfil my promise today. Unless you're busy?"
"Oh, no, not at all," she said courteously, opening the door wider to welcome Oliver in, "I was just having pancakes."
"Alone?" he grinned.
"No, with my cat," she answered happily.
He threw his head back as he laughed and that made quite a fetching picture, but it did nothing to Hermione for some reason.
A few days ago, she was namby-pamby about the whole thing – a sexy man beast turned into literally a small beast was living with her and a very handsome old-Hogwarts-now-world celebrity living next door to her and she couldn't contain herself.
But now, despite how good Oliver looked in his current dark grey shirt and jeans and shoes, she really didn't have any reaction to that. Hmm, strange.
"Am I interrupting something, then?" Oliver asked, "Like some bonding thing going on between you and Buttons?"
"Who?"
"Buttons, your cat," Oliver raised an eyebrow, "Is that not his name?"
"Oh yeah! Yeah, Buttons," she cleared her throat, "That is his name. And no, you're not interrupting anything. We're only having pancakes. Do join us."
"Love pancakes," he grinned broadly.
"Then you and Malf-ma, Buttons will get along just fine," she grinned, aware of the slip of the tongue earlier.
She led him into the kitchen, and found that the honey syrup bottle had tumbled onto the floor, thankfully not spilling.
She threw a suspicious look at Malfoy, who had a gush of an ungodly amount of syrup on his plate.
"Buttons, we have a guest," Hermione announced and Malfoy's head turned towards the kitchen entrance.
Immediately, Malfoy's eyes narrowed and he started hissing.
"Nice to see you too, Buttons," Oliver grinned but was smart enough to not try and touch Malfoy, because Merlin knows what he would do.
"Have a seat and I'll grab you a plate," Hermione said, throwing a warning look at Malfoy as Oliver sat next to him.
Somehow, as Hermione went to procure a plate for Oliver, she felt a weird atmosphere behind her. She turned to see one Oliver Wood staring around her kitchen, and Malfoy was looking at him threateningly while chomping on his pancakes.
Hermione set the plate in front of Oliver and urged him to help himself.
"Mmm, delicious," Oliver shut his eyes and moaned. If that was meant to be sexy, Hermione didn't notice, as she was busy watching Malfoy for any signs of impending violence. "Thank you, Granger."
"Hermione, please," she insisted.
"Alright, Hermione," he enunciated her name slowly, and pointed at Malfoy, "Does he always eat like this?"
"Like what? Like the animal that he is, or like that on top of my table?" Hermione grinned down at her plate and stuffed a small piece of pancake into her mouth, knowing that right at that moment Malfoy was envisioning killing her with his mind.
"Both, actually," he laughed, watching Hermione grin at her plate.
"Yes, he does. I told you he was special like that," she nodded.
"Indeed," Oliver smiled at Malfoy, who paid him no mind, "A special cat for a special lady."
Hermione smiled at that, before Malfoy threw him a dirty look and jumped off the table.
"Mal-Buttons, where are you going?" Hermione called, but Malfoy had already disappeared.
"Grouchy, isn't he?" Oliver said.
As is his normal human self.
Hermione made a humming sound of agreement before grabbing Malfoy's and Oliver's empty plates, stacking them up together.
"Here, let me help," Oliver stood.
"And a gentleman, how very rare," Hermione laughed, standing before the kitchen sink as she waited for Oliver to place the plates in the sink.
"Well, I try," he winked at her.
"Many should," she remarked, as she began to turn the tap on.
They washed the plates, talking about Quidditch (mostly Oliver talking), and then Hermione's job, Harry and Ron and finally about dating.
"So, are you seeing anybody at the moment, Hermione?" Oliver asked straightforwardly.
"No, not at all," Hermione answered, "I haven't really given that area of my life much attention lately, too busy with other things."
Busy with being boring.
"I see," Oliver smiled, "Nor have I. It's quite difficult to find someone."
"You can't be serious," Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head, "You're very successful and good-looking, what could be so difficult?"
"No, I'm really not that good-looking," he muttered, wiping the plate thoroughly.
Hermione gaped at him.
"You're joking, right?" Hermione said, "You must be. Because did I just hear Oliver Wood, the Oliver Wood say that he wasn't that good-looking? Whoever has been telling you that you're not must be told that they mustn't tell lies."
"What do you mean?" Oliver grinned at her.
"You were easily the best-looking guy in Hogwarts, if whatever I've heard girls say about you were anything to go by."
"And what exactly did they say?" His eyes narrowed curiously.
"I can't tell you that," Hermione shrugged.
"Why not? I need it for my self-esteem," Oliver said good-naturedly, "Can't you tell how low of a self-esteem I currently have?"
"If I told you exactly what they said, your head wouldn't be able to fit through the door," Hermione retorted.
Oliver threw his head back and laughed charmingly again.
"Speaking of Hogwarts," he said suddenly, "Who did you find attractive then? I mean who did you fancy?"
Draco Malfoy.
Whoa, whoa, whoa! That thought came so fast that she didn't even have time to process it.
"Ah, I can see it in your eyes," Oliver said, staring into her eyes and pointed lightly at them, "You're currently thinking of someone you used to fancy, aren't you?"
"Not really," Hermione argued.
I didn't fancy Malfoy or anything … I mean, he was always so irritating and annoying and always picking fights – but I just admired his eyes, and his nose and his lips and everythingabouthimreally, that doesn't classify as fancying someone right, it's totally normal to –
"Uh huh, who is it?"
Hermione cast a glance around the kitchen to make sure devil-cat wasn't around to overhear.
"I wouldn't classify it as fancy, but I used to think Draco Malfoy … umm, he, umm -"
Was fucking sexy.
Was mighty delectable.
"He, umm," Hermione continued.
Was so, so fine.
"Umm …"
Was well fit.
"He was nice-looking," Hermione finished.
"Draco Malfoy? The Draco Malfoy? Snobby, arrogant, spoiled brat Draco Malfoy?" Oliver gaped, looking at Hermione as if she was suddenly his grandmother.
"The one and only," she grinned and nodded.
"Ah, okay," Oliver nodded, a look of wonderment on his face.
Thankfully he didn't start lecturing Hermione about how much of a Death Eater Malfoy was, or something like that, otherwise she would have to stop herself from smacking him in the face with a clean plate.
"What about you?" Hermione asked.
"Well, plenty, really," Oliver admitted, grinning bashfully, "I have always thought that every girl's attractive in their very own way, you know."
"Oh, how very sweet of you then," Hermione said, impressed.
"But," he continued, "I've always thought there was this one girl who was really, really cute. She always stood out in my eyes. I never really got the chance to say even a word or two to her, being so busy trying to … I don't know exactly what I was trying to do," he laughed, "But yeah, sometimes I remember her, in the oddest of times."
"Aw, that's exceptionally romantic, Oliver," Hermione swooned inwardly, "Who was it?"
"Can't tell you that," he grinned mischievously.
"Oh, come on, let's go one for one. I told you who I found nice-looking, and now you tell me," she insisted.
"I didn't just think she was nice-looking, I thought she was special."
"Yes, yes, and all that," Hermione pushed, "Who is it, then?"
"It was you, actually," Oliver said, not meeting her eyes, as he wiped a plate and placed it back in its rightful place.
Hermione almost dropped the last plate but caught herself last-minute. She stood there, gaping at Oliver, until he looked at her, offered a small smile and grabbed the plate from her before wiping it.
"I, umm, I don't know what to say," she said, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.
"Nothing, really, I just felt like telling you," he grinned toothily.
"Oh, alright then," she nodded, feeling really, really confused at the moment.
And very, very flattered. Hmm.
"Listen," he turned to her completely, forcing Hermione to do the same, "I … I don't want things to get weird after what I just said …"
"No! Not at all, don't worry," Hermione said quickly, "I'm very flattered, to be honest."
"That's good, you should be," he said, and there was that smile again, "But I just … you know, seeing you after many years, harbouring the same thought I did when we in Hogwarts made me want to do something about it this time. At least try to."
Hermione was floored.
"You did not know I was staying here and that I had no neighbours by any chance, did you?" she raised an eyebrow at him.
"Merlin, no!" he laughed, "Of course not! So that's why when you opened that door and I saw that it was you and … well it was like I was given a second chance."
Just like how it felt when Harry and Ron started becoming friends with Malfoy.
Hermione shook the memory off and concentrated on Oliver.
"So, Hermione," Oliver began.
"Yes?"
Oh, shit.
"I was just wondering … maybe you'd like to go out for dinner with me sometime?" Oliver asked slowly.
"Oh, I, umm," Hermione muttered, somehow catching something white fly at the corner of her right eye but that's probably just her imagination … "I …"
What the hell was wrong with her?
There was Oliver Wood, acting so sweet and funny and lovely and handsome and … and … what was the problem again?
Because it's not 'him', that's why.
Hermione paused.
Maybe you should say yes – it's just dinner with Oliver, after all. Plus it's not like Malfoy's going to like you anyway.
Inwardly wincing, Hermione caught Oliver's eyes and opened her mouth. Such confidence you have in yourself, Hermione.
"You know what, I think I – what the fuck are you doing up there?!" Hermione suddenly shrieked, looking past Oliver's shoulder.
Oliver turned behind him and they were both staring at the same thing.
Malfoy was on top of the fridge, poised for attack – that was what Hermione noticed earlier, she saw something white flying but it wasn't exactly flying, it was Malfoy jumping to the top of the fridge. And then she noticed him just in time when he was positioning himself to jump on the back of Oliver and possibly claw his head off.
Malfoy froze at being caught and proceeded to act casual, sitting idly with his tail dangling off the fridge, swishing here and there.
"How did he get up there?" Oliver wondered.
Hermione glared at him, beckoning him to get down, and he ignored her as usual.
"Merlin knows," she mumbled under her breath and Oliver made a noncommittal sound.
"Anyway, Hermione, I think I've overstayed my welcome here," he joked, "Seems like your cat was just one second for murdering me, so I think I should go."
"No, really, you can stay," she said politely.
"Thank you, but I think I should let you two continue your bonding thing," he grinned, "So I'll see you around, yeah?"
"Definitely," she nodded, and she walked him to the front door. She opened it for him and he stepped out.
"But, think about what I said, will you?" he grabbed her hand and planted a light kiss on it, before winking, "I await your answer."
"Okay," Hermione said dumbly.
And then he left.
She shut the door, pushed her bushy hair out of the way and rubbed her face thoughtfully.
I'll answer later.
Stomping to the kitchen, she shouted, "That's two attempted murders today, Malfoy!" and began to look around in her fridge for something to cook that night, a great white cat still sitting atop, licking its paw.
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"Well, Malfoy," Hermione said, reopening the package delivered by Ron and Harry earlier in the afternoon. "Let's do this."
She was sitting at the dining table, Malfoy in his usual spot opposite her on the table.
He was quiet, but Hermione suspected that it was just because he was full. For a cat, he certainly had the best appetite in the world.
Hermione filled up the needle syringe with the turquoise liquid and looked at Malfoy.
"Come here," she said gently. He got up and tiptoed towards her, sitting down directly in front of her as she made sure everything was in order.
"Well, let's just hope it works," Hermione said casually.
She caught the dirty look Malfoy sent her and she rushed to correct herself.
"I mean, not to say it wouldn't work but … hopefully it does. I didn't mean it in a bad way, Malfoy," she rolled her eyes, "Come on."
She gently grabbed a bit of loose skin on Malfoy's neck and in one quick, confident movement, she inserted the needle into the fold of loose skin she held between her fingers.
After pulling out the needle and putting it back into the package to dispose of properly, she stroked Malfoy's head and spine.
You know, if this works, this would be the last time I'll ever see you sitting on my table. And it's a sight I think I would miss.
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Was Malfoy eavesdropping on her conversation with Oliver the entire time? If so, he must've heard me say that I fancied – or rather, think he was nice-looking back in Hogwarts. Damn.
That was the sound of Hermione's brain working so early in the morning, up before her eyes opened.
MALFOY.
She quickly discovered that there was no warmth at the back of her neck. Her eyes shot opened and she turned to where Malfoy normally slept.
There she found Malfoy.
Cat-Malfoy.
Not human Malfoy at all. He was still the same big, white cat. And he was currently regarding her with wide eyes.
"It didn't work?" she said in a small voice, "I'm sorry, Malfoy."
The cat took a deep breath and looked away for a few moments before jumping off the bed, and out of the bedroom, tail hung low. Not quite the normal enthusiastic straightness Malfoy always had in his tail.
Hermione's heart went out to him and she quickly got up to scribble a note to both Harry and Ron.
Dear Harry and Ron,
Potion did not work. Still a cat. Ask Potioners to begin another research? Thanks.
Hermione.
And then she went out to find Malfoy in the balcony, staring at the streets below, his tail doing its customary swaying about.
"Hey, Malfoy," she called out, "What do you think of hot dogs?"
Malfoy's tail stopped moving and his head turned towards her, grey eyes eyeing her with uncontained curiosity.
"Oh, right, you don't know what hot dogs are," Hermione grinned, "Looks like you'll have to find out."
Hermione disappeared with a pop, and then appeared a moment later with two hot dogs in her hand. She sent him a sly look and walked towards the kitchen, placing the hot dogs on the table.
And then she waited.
Moments later, Malfoy jumped onto the table with a loud thud and began nosing at the hot dog in interest.
"You'll like it," Hermione said as she took a big bite of her own hot dog.
Malfoy took a small bite of the food … and didn't stop until it was finished.
Hermione grinned.
TBC!
Read and review! Heehee.