This will be a DRAMIONE(Draco/Hermione) story, because I want to try different characters. I know that some people do not like this couple, so I'm sorry to disappoint.

Anyways, yes, a Draco/Hermione story that is slightly AU. I will NOT change JK Rowling's books much, although I will disregard the epilogue. I may or may not have them start off as acquaintances though, and not enemies. The only AU thing for sure at this moment will be Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.

IT IS LOOSELY BASED ON THE MOVIE I ONCE WATCHED THE BEGINNING OF called Contract Lover. It won't be the same, as I haven't watched the whole movie.

This will be under romance/drama/humor/general type.



Basically, the two of them are out of school now. They're eighteen. Draco has a girlfriend that he cannot take to his parents, and so he hires Hermione. Hermione's job, for 5 000 galleons (25000 pounds) , is to be his temporary girlfriend for 4 months, but she will only get the money if she can make his dad so mad (by being virtully the worst possible girlfriend fo a man's son) he will say "you can marry anybody but her".

Prologue: Introductions

Soft brown eyes flicked over the many heads in the cramped room, trying to locate two in particular.

She squinted to get a better view in the hazy darkness. She tilted her head forward, craning to see, and as she did this, her long side swept bangs fell over her right eye. Habitually, she tucked them behind her ear.

Where were they? she wondered, slightly put off that they seemed to be missing. Again, she panned the mass of people within the Leaky Cauldron—many of which were not the sort she'd typically like to find herself around. She couldn't tell whether they were wizards, like herself, or not.

"Hermione!" someone called from her right. Instantly, she recognized the familiar voice. Having spent the last 7 years with that person in school as best friends could have been the reason why.

She turned to her right, letting out a little yelp as she just managed to leap out of the way of a colossal man barreling past, reminding her somewhat of Hagrid, a half giant that she knew from Hogwarts—the school she had previously studied at.

She looked back to assure herself that the unmannered man was not in fact her friend.

When she had determined that, she returned her gaze to the black haired boy—no, man—sitting with another man at the table that seemed much too small for the four large chairs around it. "Harry! Ron!" she called, sending the two a small wave as she walked towards them.

She took a seat, blushing ever so slightly as per usual when she was near Ron.

"Sorry," Harry spoke as he sent her an apologetic smile, "we couldn't see you."

Hermione shrugged, her previous annoyance lost. "It's no problem," she smiled. "How's auror training these days?"

Immediately after the demise of Voldemort, the Wizarding world had gone on a phase of pure euphoria. Everybody, everywhere had celebrated for weeks on end, marking the end of the man who had terrorized their world for over two decades.

And after most of this euphoria had worn off, things began to return to normal—or as normal as they could be in a magical world. This took nearly two months though.

Because of their heroic efforts in the war, Harry, Ron, and much to her annoyance, Hermione, had been offered many jobs and opportunities in every career that could be imagined. As predicted, Harry and Ron had immediately leaped at the chance to become an auror, and now, almost a year after the Hogwarts battle, were finally aurors-in-training.

Ron shrugged, "Same as usual. Busy as bloody hell though." He took a sip of whatever drink was in front of him.

"Ron's just whining," insisted Harry, "it's really great." He pushed his glasses up a bit as the slid down his nose a notch.

"I still don't get why we had to do the training thing Harry," complained Ron, "I mean, the man Ross clearly said we could just take the positions. We've had what? Seven years of training already."

"Yes, but it wouldn't be right," emphasized Hermione, shaking her head.

"Right, shmight," groaned Ron. "You're not the one with bruises everywhere."

"That's not the point," said Hermione.

"Sometimes, I still can't understand you Hermione." He smiled to show that he was only teasing.

Hermione felt herself blush again, and silently she thanked the darkness. She wouldn't say exactly that she was in love with Ron, but she had already admitted to Harry that she had a tiny crush on her old friend. It was inevitable, she reasoned, just something that she had to get over in life.

"How have you been then Hermione," Harry addressed to her. "Making any progress?"

Hermione didn't hold in the large sigh. "None at all," she said dishearteningly, "I've made barely enough to cover the necessities for the month, much less any extra to save."

Her friends smiled sadly at her. Both knew she was working hard to gather enough money to attend the exclusive wizarding medical school abroad in France. It was similar to the muggle term 'university or college'—somewhere to further education. Harry would compare this school, Erudstrass, to the equivalent of an Ivy League university like Harvard, in both education and expenses. It was Hermione's dream to study there, and she refused to consider any other future.

"Hermione," started Harry, "I could pay for some of—"

But she easily cut him off. "I know you have good intentions Harry, but I refuse to let you pay for me. I'll find a way to save up for it myself Harry. Thank you though."

Harry nodded, but inwardly doubted that there would be a way to make that kind of money. The two year cost for this school was 5,000 galleons. An incredible sum that only few could manage in the wizarding society.

Hermione, sensing the slight discomfort at her refusal of help, changed the subject. "Are we waiting for anyone?" she asked, pointing at the fourth chair at the table with a frown. "Is Ginny coming, Harry?"

"Ah," Harry tugged at his collar, clearly even more uncomfortable, "no."


He looked at Ron, who bit his lip and turned away.

"It's for…"

"Yes?" urged Hermione, raising one perfectly curved brow.

"Luna!" cried Ron suddenly, spotting the blond haired girl. "Over here!"

"Luna?" wondered Hermione aloud. Nonetheless, she greeted her old friend with enthusiasm, if not a little skepticism.

She looked at Harry, who gave her a pitying expression.

Then she looked at Luna. Luna…who was thoroughly snogging Ron by now.

Not yet processing this, she returned to Harry, who was downing the second glass of firewhiskey whole.

Then, back at the couple. And suddenly it dawned on her. Couple.

She narrowed her eyes.

Ron had chosen Luna Lovegood over her?

Hermione reached over to the magically refilling glass in front of Harry, grabbing the tiny shot of alcohol and gulped it down immediately.

Briefly, she registered that she wasn't so much heartbroken as angry, but hell, it hurt.

She took another gulp. It hurt that her crush had chosen the spaced out, generally declared insane girl over her. It hurt that that girl was her friend as well. It hurt that her life was a mess. It hurt that she knew she was probably never going to make it to her dream school. Everything just hurt.

Why wasn't her life perfect? Fresh out of Hogwarts, brightest witch of the year, and she was downing firewhiskey at the Leaky Cauldron trying to hold back tears. How had this come to be? How had Hermione Grangers life become such a rotten, rotten, pit hole of a life?

Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy was sitting in the slightly uncomfortable, but surely expensive chairs in La Maison, a high class club. His slate grey eyes stormed over as he began to think, considering how such pricey chairs could be so damn uncomfortable. He could hardly call this establishment a club. More like…a restaurant that only served wine and appetizers.

"Monsieur?" said the waiter, in a ridiculously fake accent, "more wine?"

Draco nodded, his soft pale blond hair gleaming in the low light. "Please," he said automatically. A club with waiters, not bartenders. He took a sip of his newly refilled glass of wine.

"Malfoy!" bellowed a voice from behind him as a hand came clapping against his back.

Draco sputtered, unceremoniously spitting out the red liquid back into the goblet. He coughed roughly as he tapped his chest, while glaring at the tall dark skinned man before him.

Finally regaining his breath, Draco sneered. "Zabini."

It was simply an acknowledgement, although as he said this, his sneer slowly transformed into a small smile.

"Still a bastard as ever," laughed the man with a voice that could ensnare any girl. He took a seat beside his best friend. "Damn these chairs," he groaned, voicing Draco's earlier opinion.

Draco laughed.

"Yes, sure, have a seat Blaise," he said sarcastically. Blaise Zabini was Draco's best friend, ever since his falling out with Crabbe and Goyle. And although often more than not, they would quarrel and tease each other, sometimes rather maliciously and competitively, in the end, it was friendly to the both of them.

Blaise was the same age as Draco, 18, and had been in the house Slytherin throughout their six years in Hogwarts. He was the son of a reputatedly incomparable beauty of a mother, where he evidently inherited most of his looks, and perhaps, arrogance. Although Draco wasn't one to speak, he was attempting to change. As was Blaise.

"How have you been?" Blaise asked as he waved for a glass of wine as well, looking over at his friend.

"No different than the last time we talked Zabini, which would coincidentally be the night before."

Blaise laughed. "It's a formality Malfoy."

"Rather pointless," he sneered.

"How's that girl then? I'm pretty sure I didn't ask of her last night."

"Only the night before that," said Malfoy. "Her name is Stephanie."

"Yes, yes, her."

Stephanie was Draco's girlfriend of nearly a year. She was the epitome of beauty, with long brown hair, and catlike green eyes. Draco rather fancied himself in love with her. He had met her almost immediately after the final battle, in which he had not participated in. He had, however, contributed to it though.

No, Draco Malfoy had not seen the light miraculously and simply decided to join Potter on his quest to victory as a result. It was more of the fact that Draco liked to win. And the good guys always won.

Although, he would never admit it to anybody though, but secretly, he had always wanted to be a good guy. Maybe when he was little, he had once fallen in love with the idea of being a hero.

He shook his head. That idea had long left him, but nevertheless, he was glad to have assisted Dumbledore's side in the battle and to have convinced his father to help as well. That had saved his family from ruins and was the reason they were still one of the richest around.

Draco snapped out of his thoughts.

"She's fine."

Blaise shook his head, somewhat mockingly. "Draco, you know Lucius and Narcissa would never approve of her."

His friend didn't answer.


"I know," he answered quietly, finally.

"They hate the Americans."

"I know."

"They won't like her, even if she's from a pureblood family."

"I KNOW, for god's sake!" Draco erupted, earning reproachful glances from the people around him.

Blaise only nodded with a smirk while he turned away and transfigured his seat into something more comfortable, earning even more horrified glares from around.

Scandalous actions in the minds of others, but he could care less.

Draco took his friend's lead.

Finally, he lifted his goblet and sank into the plush padding of his new seat. He raised the glass, clinking it with his friend's, as they fell into idle chatter, letting the night slip away.