Devil in Disguise

-Written for Round Three of the Diagon Alley Grand Battle Challenge-

(Prompts will be underlined as per the Challenge Rules)

-Written for the First Time Challenge on HPFC (Prompt: First Date)-

(*)(*)(*)

He's never been this nervous in his life.

The winter sun shines weakly over the snow covered grounds, glittering off the icy expanse that was the Black Lake. Snowflakes are heavy in the air, the frigid breeze clawing subtly at all those who dare to brave the late winter afternoon. A lone man waits just outside the Entrance Hall, sheens of sweat covering his brow despite the biting cold.

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, rocking back and forth on the heels of his boots, every so often biting his lip as doubts threaten to overwhelm him. He doesn't know what to feel, his trepidation clashing with his joy. Wondering if any other bloke has ever felt this way, he sighs and glances towards the castle doors, his discomfort growing as time ticks on.

"It's better to be hated for who you are, than loved for who you are not," he whispers to himself whilst waiting, his mark concealed by his shirt sleeves. He's made some bad choices and has done things he isn't proud off – but he's trying to leave it in the past and move on with his life.

Perhaps, had this day been a normal day and a normal date with a normal girl, he can choose to ignore his trembling nerves. There isn't anything normal about this entire endeavour though – it's something he's never before thought to see himself doing.

It's taken him two months to convince her to go out with him – two long, gruelling months that's laden with mishaps and failures. Finally, when he's gotten her to agree to a date, she smirks at him and tells him exactly what she has in store for them both. If he's truly serious about her, she's told him, then he'll accept her heritage – dirty blood and all.

It's worth it though.

She's worth it.

He chugs a third vial of the Draught of Peace, the sickly sweet potion seeming to have no effect on his erratically beating heart and he sighs, wondering why not even magic is enough to calm him.

Then the doors open and she emerges, and he realises that there's no way to calm down now that he's seen a goddess come amongst mortals.

She's used some of that weird hair potion to get her bushy curls to fall in sleek waves, and she's smiling – a crooked smile that only adds to her beauty. There isn't much make-up on her face, just some lip-gloss and eyeliner. She isn't a runaway beauty, nor is she the stuff of romantic epics, but she's beautiful in her imperfections, and Draco can't help but feel his jaw grow slack as she approaches him.

"Hey," she says softly, nervously – it really is a change for them to be conversing rather than yelling. It's odd . . . in a good way though.

"Hey," he replies, "You look good."

"Thanks . . . so do you."

"So where're we going, then?" he asks, cheeks tinged pink as a schoolgirls because he's been told that he looks 'good' by her. Somehow, it isn't as awkward as it should have been.

"We're apparating from Hogsmeade," she smiles, "To see a movie and go bowling."

"Three cheers to the muggle world," he feigns a smile, knowing that he isn't going to enjoy this day as much as she because frankly, he has no idea what either of the things she's mentioned are. Inwardly, he curses being an 'eight-year' student, of which one of the perks was the opportunity to go to Hogsmeade every other weekend and to apparate to other locales from the village.

As they walk, he grins as he feels her hand link with his, the cashmere of her sweater flush against the silk of his shirt. When they reach the village, it's bustling with people, all eager to spend Valentine's Day with their loved ones.

"Is that Oliver Wood?" asks Hermione suddenly, her voice aghast as she gestures towards the newly opened store Madame Domina's: For All Your Sexual Needs. Draco frowns at the store – he remembers Mcgonagall throwing a fit when the franchise first bought their new location, citing that the village was a place that schoolchildren regularly visit.

"I thought he played for Puddlemere," he answers, eyes widening as Oliver darts out of the store and dashes past them, seemingly eager to not be seen exiting a sex shop. A tinkle of metal catches their attention and they both stare in horror at the intricate device lying a few feet ahead of them.

"Are those?" squeaks Hermione.

"Nipple clamps," he stammers, then composing himself, he smirks at her, "You Gryffindors are into some really kinky stuff."

"I will hex you," she winks, and suddenly they're at the apparition point. He takes her hand and lets her lead, because he really has no clue as to where they're going. Draco is putting a lot of faith in here, especially considering she has tried to kill him several times not even a year prior to this day. She can easily splinch him if she so desires, or worse, leave him trapped in limbo, but he trusts her not to.

The suffocating blackness envelops them both, and when he breathes again, he's in an alley. He follows her out, eyes widening at the roar of the traffic, the turbulence of the crowd and the dinginess of the sidewalk.

"This way," she smiles, taking his hand and pulling him through the pedestrians. Draco doesn't know how she does it, darting and weaving between them whilst he gets bumped along, smacking into people who aren't looking where they're going and knocking into their flailing arms and legs.

He feels bruised and battered when finally Hermione comes to a stop, but before he can catch his breath she's dragging him into a building. Confusion bubbles in him as she goes about some sort of routine, purchasing what looks like tickets – only they can't be tickets because tickets talk to you – and a box of what appeared to be tiny clouds. He gives up when she hands him a cup full of a bright blue liquid –it looks like crushed ice.

Draco feels a bit odd and hopes his mother will never hear of this. Narcissa would be appalled to know her son had let his date pay for everything but he really couldn't help it. He didn't even know how much value those little scraps of paper in his date's hands were worth, let alone having any of his own to pay with.

"Why do you smell like a library?" he blurts out as she leads him into a dark room and guides him towards their seats.

"It's my perfume," she giggles and Draco can't help but think how foreign it is for her to laugh like that, "It's been laced with a watered down dose of Amortentia so that everyone who smells it will smell the scent they love the most."

"So you're saying that the thing I love most in the world is a library?" he argues, though a piece of him questions whether it's the library he's meant to love . . . or the girl who spends most of her time within it. It confuses him, he's fond of Granger and he likes her well enough, and maybe one could say that he's enamoured by her but he didn't love her.

That would just be cheesy.

Hermione shrugs, "Seamus smelled lavender flowers and Parvati smelled that chocolate Dean's always eating so I guess you do."

"Why was Finnegan sniffing you?" questions Draco, not liking the notion one bit.

She giggles again before shushing him, pointing towards the large screen in the front of the rooms. Words flash across it:

Shriek 3

'You inspire my inner serial killer'

A gruff voice sounds through the room, speaking the little phrase in a sinister tone that absurdly reminds him of Voldemort. His mark stings across his forearm at the memory and instinctively, he flexes his wrist.

Then the 'movie' begins and it captivates him. He's sitting on the edge of his seat, wide eyed, lips stained blue from his 'slooshy' as he stuffs his face with the 'cloudcorn' – it's delicious and he thinks he can eat it all day. He barely notices Hermione watching him with a grin on her face, he's too caught up in the moving pictures across the screen.

A suspenseful track begins to play as the lead character, a blonde woman who's a bit of a slag in his opinion, is tiptoeing through her house. There's a crash and she jumps, turning towards the nearby basement that her friends had all died in earlier. Unbeknownst to her, that's where the serial killer, her ex-boyfriend who for some reason can't handle being rejected by her, is hiding with a massive cleaver.

She reaches out to turn the knob and before he knows it, Draco is on his feet hollering:

"Don't go in there, you dumb slag. YOU'RE GOING TO DIE!"

He really doesn't understand why the two burly security guards ask them to leave. He's only flung his empty cloudcorn box at the screen when the dumb slag got killed after not listening to him. It takes an espiskey from Hermione to fix his sprained wrist – really, there was no need for them to literally throw him out. Draco's just been trying to help the dumb slag not die, something which amuses Hermione to no end.

"Remind me to Silencio you if we ever go to the movies again," she smiles, helping him to his feet and leading him to what looks like a restaurant. Looping red letters spell out The Rose and he realises that this is the name of the establishment.

"Really?" he asks, internally groaning, "its Valentine's Day and we're going to a romantic restaurant?"

"They have wine."

"I'm paying."

It was only later, after trying and failing to get the waitress – who was beginning to remind him of the dumb slag from the movie – to accept the handful of sickles, did he give in and allow Hermione to pay.

The waitress stares at him in distaste, obviously judging him for not footing the bill and he scowls at her. Hermione comes to his rescue, obviously she likes the dumb slag no more than he does and says, "He's not from around here and hasn't had the chance to go to the exchange office yet."

The waitress nods in understanding, still staring at him with a detesting look in her eyes, before simpering off to leave them to their dessert.

"I must say that I'm disappointed," teases Hermione, "I was told that going on a date with Draco Malfoy would be one of the greatest mistakes of my life and that I would regret every moment of it although to be honest, you've been the perfect gentleman."

"Don't be fooled, love," he replies, "I'm the devil in disguise."