A/N: This is a little short multichap I've been plucking away at, full of 8th-year teenage drama. It's unbeta'd, so please forgive me at being horrible at grammar.

xXx

"Bullshite."

"It's not bullshite. It's true. You forget how often I have to put up with you. I am able to withstand a great amount of idiocy and could do so for any length of time, really."

"That's your problem, you know? You're so fucking hoighty." Malfoy leaned back, kicking his expensive dragon-leather shoes up on the table between them. "You walk around this school with a broomstick lodged up your arse and your nose in the air like you're better than everyone else."

Her lips parted, eyes rounding as she stared back at him. "I think I'm better than everyone else? Merlin, Malfoy. You really are delusional. The things I have to suffer through…"

"You think I'm insufferable?" A loud scoff burst from his lips. "How about a wager of sorts, Granger?" His brow quirked, in that aristocratic, pompous way he'd refined over the years and Hermione bristled, eyes narrowing.

Sharing these eighth-year duties with Malfoy had been trying at best; at worst it'd been downright torture. Even sitting down to do such simple things as finalizing a prefect schedule—a prefect schedule that she'd already perfected—proved absolutely maddening.

"A wager?"

Smirk widening, his eyes flashed from charcoal to gunmetal. "Let's set each other up. The Yule is coming up and we both don't have dates."

Heat twinged the tips of her ears and she sat up straight. "And how do you know I don't have a date?"

He answered with a narrowed, unamused stare and she sank back down. "Right, so we both don't have dates. Go on, find me a date. If I can make it through two weeks and bring her to the Yule Ball, you run Head duties til the trees turn green."

There was a reason that Hermione Granger was sorted into Gryffindor, and those reasons were situations exactly such as these. She was insatiable. Unable to back down. "And that's the whole bet?"

"Not likely. I'll do the same. I'll send a bloke your way, and if you can bring him to the Yule and date him publicly for the next fortnight—I'll take over." She snorted and he continued. "I mean it! Obviously, I've been half-arseing it. Why wouldn't I? But I'll take over until Spring, as much as you'll let me."

To be honest, she didn't give two figs about him taking over her duties—she enjoyed them—but, she did give many figs about backing down from a bet with Draco-bleeding-Malfoy.

Thrusting her palm into the space between them, her brows pushed together. "You're on, Malfoy."

His tongue ran smooth along his perfect teeth and he winked. "Brilliant."

xXx

Granger had no idea what she'd gone and just done. Who, oh who, would he set her up with. Goyle seemed the obvious choice, being as bloody repulsive as she'd always found him. But then—eh—he'd gone and lost his baby fat and shot up six inches; his personality left much to be desired, but he was a hoot at parties and he knew how to make a witch laugh.

No, not Goyle.

There was Zabini? But… Zabini might fuck her. If she were a witch that was up for such raucous proclivities, which Malfoy was sure she was not. But if she was, then Zabini would quickly find his way between her thighs. For reasons that Draco was happy to ignore, he quickly moved past his friend as a possible ploy in taking Granger down.

Oh! There was that puss-filled Puff in their Advanced Potions class. Tittering with glee at the very thought that he would make for quite the stunning Yule date, Draco remembered how closely his personality resembled that of dry mustard.

Then there was the issue of actually getting the dolt to even approach Granger, and seeing as Draco's interaction with the bloke had been shoving in a broom closet fifth year, that seemed unlikely.

Which is why Draco was scowling in the Great Hall, glaring at every passing male classmate that was of proper age. There were the actual options, that would cause him to lose the bet: Corner, Finch-Fletchley, Macmillan, even Longbottom, as loathe as was to admit it. And the last thing Draco was about to do was set himself up for failure.

His gaze dragged down the length of the Ravenclaw table, nothing promising. But then, there, at the end of his own house, with glasses stuck on the bottom of his nose and his quill scratching a mile a minute, was the most boring and droll bloke he'd ever met. Theodore Nott Jr.

Truth be told, he was a bit mousy: small features and a slight frame. He didn't care for Quidditch or girls or anything of the sort. He was as interesting as a wet mop in the broom cupboard, and even that might be a stretch. Smirk widening, Draco plucked an apple from the bowl in the center of the table and pushed to stand.

"Oi! Malfoy! Done already?" Zabini asked, brows inching for his forehead.

Teeth slicing through the skin of a perfectly tart green apple, Draco adjusted his bag on his shoulder and grinned. "Just getting started."

xXx

"He likes you."

"What?"

Grimacing, Hermione wondered why all of her cleverness and wit couldn't come in hand when it came to gracefully lying. That would make her life much easier; instead she got all the Gryffindor ethical crap that made her shite at lying, and thus, shite at winning this bet. And she refused to lose any sort of bet to Draco Malfoy.

The issue at hand was that Draco Malfoy underestimated her, always had, always would. Hermione Granger? Oh, she could handle just about any insufferable bloke for any given amount of time. Hell, she'd been doing it since September with her adjacent Head and she'd done it for years taking care of her best friends, for crying out loud.

Two weeks and a dance with some idiot Malfoy picked out? Pumpkin pie.

No, the real test at hand was going to pick someone who was obnoxious enough to drive Malfoy absolutely insane. If a witch wasn't as clever as Hermione, she might pick someone a bit dull, a bit quiet, perhaps. But they'd be wrong. Malfoy could withstand the torture of a boring companion; the key would be choosing someone that would grate his gears to absolutely no end.

Draco Malfoy, above all else, wanted to be seen as a Pureblood aristocrat. Who would tarnish that reputation easiest? She'd gone through the most obvious choices before finally settling on Beatrice Beaucomb. Bea.

She was a seventh year Hufflepuff, short, small, and busty. The reason Hermione so adored Bea as a date for Malfoy was that Bea led with her tits. Oh, she sashayed here and there, hiking her skirt up a little higher, her buttons tugging a little tighter. She enjoyed pulling boys into broom cupboards and making all sorts of loud and scandalous noises once inside.

And as much as Draco Malfoy wanted to be seen as a witches-man, he had a type. A standard. And being seen with Bea Beaucomb was exactly the opposite kind of attention he'd want to receive. She was perfect.

"Wait," Bea paused, dark brows pinching and full lips tugging into a pout. "Draco Malfoy."

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Hermione smiled. "Yes. The only Malfoy at Hogwarts. He told me in our Heads meeting last week and I brought it up to him that I might say something to you. See what you think?"

Bea's pale green eyes shot over Hermione's shoulder, staring pointedly at the Slytherin table. "Are you sure? Because he's never even talked to me."

A fevered blush crawled up her neck as Hermione cursed her poor ability at lying once again. "Absolutely! He told me he was too…" Words failed her completely. Surely she knew a few…. Just one would do… "Intimidated!" she nearly shouted. "Yes, he just feels that you're out of his league, what with his tawdry history and all."

"Rowena's rack, does he think I give a shite about that? I'd climb that man like a tree given the first opportunity. Have you seen him?"

Eyes narrowing, Hermione couldn't bite the condescending cluck of her tongue. Instinctually, she wanted to take it back. Wanted to tell the dumb bint to piss off and never mind because she'd simply been lying the entire time, anyway.

But there was a bet. A bet she refused to lose—on principal.

"I think he'd like to take you to the Yule, but he's shy." Hermione grimaced; the last fucking thing on the planet Draco Malfoy was was shy. Arrogant, smug, privileged, and fucking annoying? Sure.

"Shy?" The corner of Bea's painted lips tugged up and her thick lashes batted. "Well, I can deal with shy."

An ill twist coiled in her belly and Hermione couldn't help the disappointed glower that distorted her features.

xXx

"Yeah, mate. She was asking about you!"

Theo's steady gaze didn't waver as he stared over his thick-rimmed glasses. "No."

"What do you mean no? She's Hermione bloody Granger! Are you saying you're too good for her?"

A watery snort pushed past his classmate's lips and he rolled his eyes. "Oh, please, Malfoy. Don't mistake me for someone stupid." Snapping his book shut, Theo rose quickly to his feet. "Hermione Granger hasn't looked my way in over seven years, and now she's suddenly enamored enough with me that she is requesting that you—her nemesis—approach me to ask her on a date?"

Fuck. Draco had forgotten the little snake had brains. "Okay, I see what you're saying. And maybe I have my own reasons, but I'm telling you right now that if you ask Granger on a date to Hogsmeade this weekend, I guarantee she will say yes. Are you willing to pass up that kind of opportunity?"

Theo's brow flickered, and at that moment Draco knew he'd found his weak spot. Born Slytherin the boy was. There wasn't a wizard in this school that didn't want to be known as Hermione Granger's, and Theo was no different.

"What's in it for you?"

"Barely anything, really," he said honestly. "A few weeks off scheduling and saving my pride."

Nott's eyes glinted and he collected his things from the table in front of him. "I don't necessarily like you, Malfoy. But I was sorted to this house, same as you, and I'd be a fool to pass up a good opportunity, no matter the intent behind why it's presented itself."

"So, we've got a deal?" Draco edged, taking an excited step towards him.

Scoffing, Theo turned. "Absolutely not. I have no deal with you."

xXx

Quite obviously, Hermione loved the library, loved the smell of worn leather and weathered pages. There was a spot near the back, just before the Restricted Section that boasted a lovely stained glass window; when the sun filtered through it, a hazy kaleidoscope of brilliant hues would dance on the floor. There wasn't much that could deter her from her beloved books, but too often, she'd be lost in thought, staring at the lights until the sun sank low enough to steal them away.

That's where her mind was today, idly staring at the golden and gem-toned shapes on the old carpet, Advanced Runelogy perched in her lap.

"Excuse me, Hermione?"

A bashful voice pulled her from her thoughts and she blinked up at the newcomer hovering near the stacks. Theo Nott stood, bag slung over his shoulder and hands shoved in his trouser pockets. His chin was tucked, peering up through thick-framed glasses at her.

Untangling her legs from under her, she gently closed her book and sat up straight. "Yes?" He didn't speak, his lips folding in. "Is something wrong? If it's Head's business, I'm always available, or if you'd rather, I can hunt down Malfoy."

A bark of laughter burst forward from his lips and he waved his hands quickly through the air. "No, no. Nothing like that. I just wanted to introduce myself—"

Brows knitting, Hermione shifted in her seat. "Theo, we've gone to school together for seven years. Of course, I know you."

"Right, well—" The apples of his cheeks darkened and he took a step into the dappled light of the stained glass window. "I wanted to introduce myself more officially. Malfoy approached me with some half-cocked story and while I didn't fall for it for a minute, I thought I might be able to help you. If you needed it that is."

A disbelieving sigh left her and she shook her head, staring at the Slytherin she'd never really taken time to look at before. He'd grown since sixth year, several inches, actually. Chestnut fringe hung over his forehead and his glasses were constantly being pushed up the bridge of his nose. But, he was quite handsome, really, in a quiet, bookish sort of way. A strong jaw and clear blue eyes paired with a nervousness that made her smile.

Canting her head to the side, she said, "You want to help me?"

"Yes. Malfoy's always been such a git and whatever it is that he's up to, clearly it's not under the ruse that you actually want me to ask you to the Yule Ball. So, whatever you need, I'm your man."

Hermione toed the rug, all at once realizing what an awful idea this bet was if it put the heart of some unsuspecting peers on the line. "The last thing I'd want is to lead you on or waste your time or anything."

Another loud guffaw filled the room and a harsh Shhh echoed from Pince's desk. Covering this mouth, Theo stepped closer to her, falling into the chair across from her. "You may have misunderstood. You aren't exactly my type."

A fevered blush inched up her neck, stretching to the tips of her ears as shame pulled at her features. "Oh, well… of course, not. I only meant—"

Warm hands shot out, covering hers and his eyes rounded. "No, no! I just think your friend, Potter, maybe up my alley, Granger. Always fancied him, if I'm honest. But I am most decidedly alright with helping you pull one over on Malfoy."

Slow realization dripped over Hermione's features and her lips bent up in a smile. "Oh, you wonderful, wonderful Slytherin."

xXx

Sweat collected on Malfoy's brow as he rushed down the corridor, searching for her blasted door. Over his shoulder, he could hear the soft tittering giggle of that ridiculous little twit and he knew she was coming for him. He'd not been able to dodge her for two days now.

There, just past the statue of a dozing lion, was Granger's door. Ripping at the handle with far too much haste, he shoved it open and nearly fell over the threshold. Safely inside, he turned, pressing his back against it for good measure, as if the witch in question might try to barrel through with sheer force.

Panting, he let his head fall back, only righting it at the sound of his adversary chuckling from across the room. "Hello, Malfoy. How is your Saturday?"

Malfoy pushed away from the door, glowering as he made a wide circle around her as though she was some dangerous animal, noting her sleep shorts and loose-fitting tee. "Are you certifiable?"

Ticking her chin to the side, her amber eyes lit from within. "In what field? I have several accreditations."

"Insane. Are you certifiably insane? What on earth would possess you to set that witch on me? She's insatiable."

"You don't like Bea?" Hand flying to her chest in mock horror, Granger's jaw fell open. "She's everything I thought you wanted in a witch." The tip of her tongue darted out, curling around the sharp point of her canine, brow arching. "She's even a Pureblood."

A growl rumbled deep in his chest and Malfoy stepped closer into her. "You want to play like that, Granger? You know quite well what being seen with Bea Beaucomb will do to my reputation. You're playing dirty."

An unfamiliar smirk curled her lips and she shrugged. "You could always quit. Save that precious ego and your fat head." Her fingers slid through his hair and for a moment he almost leaned into the gesture, until she began roughing up his carefully styled locks.

"I don't quit," he said, batting at her until she was retreating to her sofa near the window.

"Well, then don't. I, on the other hand, am seeing Theo this afternoon in Hogsmeade. I look forward to an easy schedule after the Holidays, Malfoy. Hope you're ready to work."

Baring his teeth and muttering a string of incoherent obscenities, Draco turned. If Granger wanted to play it that way, well, she had no idea what she was getting himself into.

xXx

Strolling into Hogsmeade, Hermione's conversation with Theo was easy. Truth be told, he was quite a pleasurable companion, well-read and insightful, the conversation flowed smoothly from recent books they'd discovered and highlights of their years at Hogwarts.

Idly, she wondered if maybe Malfoy hadn't understood the rules to their little bet. If he wanted to pick someone horrible for her, Theo was far from the worst choice. Hell, had he picked Goyle or Zabini she might have tossed in the towel right then and there.

"Maybe the bookstore?" Theo asked, turning to her with brows held high. "Then a butterbeer? Or tea if you prefer."

"That sounds absolutely lovely, Theo," she said, curling her arm around his and bouncing into the small village with a renewed vigor for tormenting Draco and a new friend.

xXx

"It's a bit cold…"

Sneering over his shoulder at the small witch who'd chosen a skirt and no bloody cloak for an early December jaunt to Hogsmeade, Draco found his patience thin. He could offer her his cloak, his jumper at the very least, but he cringed to think of her nausea-inducing perfume ruining his fine clothing.

"Cast a warming charm, then."

Sighing, Bea crossed her arms, shoving her bust more into view. "You know, I don't need to be here, Malfoy. There are a lot of wizards who enjoy my company and you don't seem to be one of them. So maybe I ought to go and find one of those wizards."

Fuck. He'd forgotten about this part of their little bet, about having to actually keep the witch in question on his arm for two weeks and through the Yule.

His hand shot out, wrapping his long fingers around her wrist. "You're right, Bea." Bile shot into the back of his throat at her name on his lips. "I don't know what came over me."

Stepping into her, he noticed the gooseflesh covering her cleavage and arms and with a long-suffering grimace, he shrugged from his cloak and offered it to her.

"Well, aren't you just the sweetest," she cooed, closing it tightly around her and then pressing her body into his.

He bristled and turned back to study the cobblestone walk through the center of the village. His gaze caught on Granger and Nott, his arm slung over her shoulder as they exited the bookshop and made for the Three Broomsticks. Something altogether unfamiliar and unwarranted twisted in his belly at seeing the two of them.

"Interest you in a butterbeer, Bea?"

xXx

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this silly little 8th-year drama. I'll be back in a few days with an update!

As mentioned, this is un-beta'd and I'm rubbish at grammar, so please forgive any glaring errors. If anything is truly horrendous, please feel free to let me know!

Thanks to MCal for her Alpha'ing this and MD for her prompt!

Would love to know your thoughts!