Malfoy Gets a Puppy, a harry potter fanfic

Hello everyone! The idea for this story came to me around 3 AM in the morning while I was trying to fall asleep. It's a fluffy, somewhat romantic one-shot that slightly parodies traditional Draco/Hermione stories. I hope you find it as cute as I do :). Take the time to leave a review and make me a very happy girl! Thanks.

P.S. Although I have read HBP, this story will be post-OOTP and pre HBP because I'm too depressed over a certain character's death to work it into this little one-shot.

Summary: Malfoy gets a puppy, Hermione tries to name it, and all sorts of interesting things ensue. Including a little Malfoy-Granger one on one. Literally.

Rating: K+

Author: Fire Magus

Disclaimer: I own everything, I bought the rights off eBay.

...well, not really. Sadly, JK Rowling owns everything here (except the puppy).

MALFOY GETS A PUPPY

Seventh year at Hogwarts.

Malfoy strutted about the Head Common Room, contemplating whether or not he should trademark the Official Malfoy Strut. It was rather annoying, watching all the younger Slytherins trying to copy his amazing ability of walking like a hot king. But, Malfoy thought, I am a hot king. (Here he paused to look in a mirror and wiggle his eyebrows suggestively at himself. Shameless boy). At that precise moment, he heard muffled pounding footsteps before the door to the common room was thrown open and Hermione Granger, in all her bushy-haired glory, appeared, her Head Girl badge askew on her robes. She was looking very agitated.

"Leave me alone, Peeves, or I'll call the Bloody Baron!" she was yelling.

Peeves, floating just outside the door, cackled madly and called her an impressive variety of names, all revolving around the word "bush."

Malfoy grinned evilly, before Peeves turned his face to him as Hermione, fuming, was left momentarily speechless by the poltergeist's appalling behaviour.

"Malfoy," Peeves cackled, "go see what's in your room! I bet-"

At that moment, Hermione slammed the portrait shut in Peeves's face and stomped towards Malfoy.

"Out of my way, you useless Head Boy," she growled before she stormed up the stairs to her bedroom.

How dare she speak to me in that manner! thought Malfoy with utter indignance. Especially when I am absolutely dripping hotness!

Feeling sulky, he went up the stairs to his own bedroom, pushed open the door – and saw a box lying on his bed. A big, wooden crate, actually, with holes in it.

The crate rattled suspciously.

Malfoy drew his wand and eyed the crate with just as much suspicion. Peeves had mentioned something being in his room. And if Peeves had somehow delivered this thing to his room... no way was he going to open it...

But there was a letter taped to the side of the box. Hesitantly, Malfoy drew nearer to the bed and read what was written on the piece of pink paper:

Draky-waky-aky! I got a little-iddle-ickle pwezzie wezzie for you! I hope you like it, it's so, so cute. And come and see me toniiiight!

Love Pansy-poo

Malfoy felt his nose wrinkle in disgust. Of course, it was women's instinct to throw themselves shamelessly at his feet. But Pansy, really, was a bit much sometimes. With a resigned sigh, he pointed his wand at the box, muttered a spell to open it -

And was promptly bowled over and knocked flat on the ground by something golden and very, very fuzzy.

Malfoy yelled. The fuzzy thing howled. Malfoy yelled louder and threw his arms over his face as – Voldemort help him – the fuzzy thing licked him. He scrambled to his feet, shaking in horror, just as his bedroom door burst open and Hermione appeared, brandishing her wand energetically and stabbing him in the eye.

"What? What? Is it a death eater? What's going on?" she yelled, looking around frantically as Malfoy howled in pain and clutched his eye. At that moment, the Fuzzy Thing attacked his leg.

"AAAAARRRRGGHHHH GET IT OFF ME GET IT OFF ME!" Malfoy now proceeded to hop around the room while clutching his eye, tears streaming down his face as he tried to shake the thing off his leg.

"Malfoy!" Hermione shrieked. "Wait – wait – STOP! You're going to hurt it! You're going to – STOP!"

Malfoy stopped obligingly and the Fuzzy Thing let go. He was, however, outraged that the stupid Mudblood was more concerned for the Fuzzy Thing's safety than his! All women were supposed to care about him and him only, especially when horrifying events – like getting licked, stabbed in the eye, and grabbed by the leg – all happened in succession!

"Malfoy... it... it's just a puppy."

And Hermione promptly burst into hysterical laughter. Malfoy would have glared at her, but he was too busy looking down at the floor. A... a puppy sat on his green carpeted floor, near his bed. A fluffy, golden retriever puppy with big brown eyes and even bigger, floppy paws. It wagged its tail eagerly. Malfoy stared at the puppy in horror.

"Let's name him Spot!" said Hermione, now having recovered over her fit of hysteria.

Malfoy gaped.

"What?" Hermione asked, colouring a little. "It was only number 5 in Top Ten Thousand Names for Dogs..."

Malfoy continued to gape.

"Well," she defended herself. "It's not like I had much choice of books to choose from at my uncle's! It was between that and... 500 Ways to Breed a Llama."

Aside from the fact that Malfoy held great respect for 500 Ways to Breed a Llama, who the hell would name a spotless dog Spot!

"Ohhh, aren't you just an adorable little baby?" Hermione cooed, approaching the puppy with a very soppy look on her face. The puppy eyed her doubtfully.

And launched itself at Malfoy.

Malfoy yelled and looked desperately around for somewhere to hide. Alas, there was nothing nearby but a laundry basket. He grabbed it and dumped it over his head. The puppy stopped abruptly in its tracks, confused as to why his owner (yes, the puppy was male and had already decided Malfoy was The Owner) had a basket on his pretty blond head.

Hermione, too, wondered about this.

"Well," she said. "I must say you look much better now."

"WHAT!"

Malfoy threw the basket off his head to glare at Hermione, but didn't have much chance to do so as the puppy, happy to see his owner's face again, continued his launch at said owner's face. Malfoy fell to the floor again and got his face thorougly washed.

"I suppose you were right, Malfoy," Hermione said, raising her voice above the excited yips and muffled yelps the two blond males were making. "Spot isn't a very good name... do you think we should name him Midnight instead?"

Malfoy could not believe the girl. Here he was lying on the floor, his face getting desecrated by a Fluffy Thing With a Tongue, while she suggested naming it - a golden retriever puppy - Midnight. Name him Sunshine for Merlin's sake... how on Earth did Granger become the top of the year again?

"Oh here," Hermione said, exasperated, as she flipped her bushy hair as much as you can flip bushy hair, bent down, and pried the puppy off Malfoy's face. She then sat the puppy on the carpet, turned him over, and began to rub his fuzzy little belly.

Malfoy gurgled a bit, then got up, grabbed Hermione's robe sleeve, and dried his face.

"Malfoy! You cannot just grab my clothes and use them as a towel whenever you feel like it!"

"Of course I can, Granger, I'm hot, powerful, intelligent, rich, muscular, and hot."

Hermione snorted. "You're also conceited, irritable, arrogant, selfish, greedy, stinky, and conceited."

Malfoy was highly affronted. He was not stinky. She, Granger, was the dirty little Mudblood here.

"Look, Granger, why don't you just shut up before I feed you to my puppy."

It sounded lame even to him.

Hermione evidently agreed.

"Well, at least you acknowledged that he's your puppy. Best get around to naming him, Malfoy."

There was the sound of a snore, however, and that rather ruined the moment. Looking down, Malfoy saw his puppy sleeping contentedly while drooling all over his Slytherin green carpet.

"Salivator," Malfoy decided out loud.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Don't beg, Granger, it doesn't become you. I name my puppy Salivator."

Hermione thought this was stupider than Spot, and said so. Malfoy (as usual) got mad.

"I'll have you know my father-"

"He's in AZKABAN, idiot."

"-will – will send a dementor after you!"

"Well, seeing as I'm best friends with Harry Potter, patronus-conjurer extraordinaire, I'm hardly quaking in my boots."

"You don't have boots, Granger."

Hermione was fed up with Malfoy's idiocy. She stood up and, looking down her nose at him, said as spitefully as she could, "I'm going to go read 500 Ways to Breed a Llama."

Malfoy supposed this was an insult. But really, that book wasn't so bad. He then noticed, however, that Granger was still standing there and looking at him with a funny expression on her face.

"What?" he sneered. "Like what you see, Granger? Want to see more?"

Hermione had, indeed, just noticed how nice Malfoy's grey eyes were. The colour of a storm, framed by pale, long lashes. Malfoy, at that moment, had just noticed how nice Granger's eyes were. They were brown like the bark of his favourite cherry tree. He liked that cherry tree.

Then Hermione blinked, and looked away, turned to leave -

And most predictably tripped over Salivator and landed squarely on top of Malfoy with a shriek (Hermione shrieked. Malfoys do not shriek. They yell. And elegantly, when they can). Salivator, who had been woken up most rudely, eyed his owner and the bushy-haired girl on top of him. They looked comfortable, he decided, and went back to sleep.

Hermione was not comfortable at all, though. Her heart was beating rather fast, all she could smell was oranges (her second favourite fruit), and all she could see was Malfoy's face beneath hers, staring up at hers with an expression split between horror and interest.

"Can't control yourself, can you, Granger?" he grinned, flashing his perfect white teeth at her and leaving her momentarily blinded.

"Of course I can!" she spat. "Like I'd ever want to land on a pile of garbage on purpose!" And, to prove her point, she tried to push herself up when Malfoy's hand caught her wrist and stopped her.

"WHAT did you call me?"

"A pile of garbage!"

"You filthy little Mudblood."

"You foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!" (TM Warner Bros).

And as each continued to hurl insults at one another, heedless of the position they were currently in, Salivator woke up again, decided he was hungry, and barked. Snapped to attention, Hermione realized she was still on top of Malfoy and quickly scrambled off, blushing to the roots of her hair. Malfoy was trying not to think about how soft and nice smelling said hair had been while brushing against his face.

Salivator whined. Malfoy glared at him. Salivator employed his big puppy eyes look (that wasn't too hard). Malfoy couldn't help but think Salivator was rather cute. He patted the dog on his head.

Salivator thought Malfoy was pretty stupid. He wanted food, dammit, not mollycoddling.

"Awww," Hermione said, with a grin. She, too, had a row of perfectly white teeth. Malfoy was blinded. Ha. Payback.

"Awww what?" Malfoy sneered, recovering.

"You like the little puppy, don't you!"

Malfoy did not reply, but sulked instead. It wasn't very manly to like puppies. Was he still a man? Was he still hot? And why didn't Granger fall prey to his charms? (But a voice in his head told him he'd hardly been charming to the Head Girl). Time to start.

"Tell you what, Granger," he said, looking as innocent but handsome as possible. "You take care of Salivator, and I'll go out with you." (Salivator wagged his tail in approval of this offer).

But Hermione just stared.

And stared some more.

Her jaw was hanging, by the way, exposing her teeth and blinding Malfoy again.

Once Malfoy had recovered his sight, however, and saw that Granger was still speechless, he leaned over, gave her a hearty snog on the lips, and pulled back. He conveniently forgot he'd just snogged a Mudblood.

"Well?" and he wiggled his eyebrows.

Hermione was still too shocked to do anything much but gape soundlessly at him.

"Oh, you're hopeless," Malfoy said impatiently and, grabbing her around the waist, proceeded to snog her senseless. She tasted like the cherries from his cherry tree. And, he thought later in a period of reflection – he owed it all, really, to Salivator. If the puppy hadn't attacked him, Granger wouldn't have come to save him, and he wouldn't have had the chance to finally start something with the damn pretty bookworm.

The End.

Ahhh, that was weird. I didn't plan the story and it kinda wandered around a bit... I had some funny ideas last night that involved Ron and Harry, but I couldn't remember what they were. Anyway, leave a review, tell me what you think, but no flames, please! Thanks for reading :D

-Nabila :)