The Worst Date Ever

The Fight

"Choke him out! Choke him out!"

Hermione's eyes were dry from not having blinked in ages. The MMA fighters thrashed against one another, having finally brought the fight to the ground. Hermione was aware that there were many people who might envy hers and Malfoy's front row seats, so they may better witness the collapse of civilization. The luxury was, however, lost on her. She was too scared to check, but she was pretty sure there was blood on her cleavage from one of the fighters.

Malfoy clapped as the Irish guy did indeed choke out the American. He leaned in to whisper. "So, what do you think of your first UFC fight?"

Hermione was shaken out of her daze. "I think..."

She looked around at the carnage and the celebration of brute force for its own sake. People were spilling warm Carlsberg all over each other and cheering at the sight of blood. Hermione couldn't help but be reminded of ancient Rome. Hordes of the populace would gather at the heart of the city to watch gladiators bring honor to their countries by spilling the blood of foreign slaves upon the hallowed dust of Rome; saluting Death as a revered friend and entering the halls of Elysium with dignity.

"Oi, mate grab 'im by 'is balls! Get 'im in 'is baby maker!" A drunken old man in the row behind Hermione jumped up and spat at the ring. Dorito crumbs flew through the air and cascaded down Hermione's dress.

She shook her head. "I think this place makes me feel racist against white people."

"Yeah, it's glorious, isn't it? By the way, doll, you've got a bit of that American bloke's nose blood on your tits."

"Charming. Are we finished here?"

"Not by half, doll. This is just the first fight. There are eleven more fights to go."

"Eleven?" She shook her head, her eyes glazing over as a woman with bright purple hair wearing a silver bikini walked around the ring holding a sign announcing the next fight.

She didn't understand. Why would Malfoy put her through all of this when it clearly wasn't to his taste any more than hers? Did he really hate her so much that he derived so much pleasure from her humiliation? "Haven't you had enough?" she whispered.

"I'm sorry, what was that, doll?"

She turned fully in her seat to face him. She saw a small glimmer of contrition appear in his face as he witnessed the defeat in her eyes. "Why are you doing this? You hate all of this just as much as I do. Why would you go through so much trouble just to see me humiliated? What's even the point?"

His treacherous Adam's apple bobbed again in his throat, and he licked his lips. "I mean...the bet, right? You know it was all in good fun. I wasn't trying to—"

"Why do you hate me?"

His eyes widened in their sockets. He released a puff of incredulity as he looked her in the eyes, searching for evidence that she was serious. "I don't hate you, Granger. Why would you think that I do?"

She shrugged. "You only ever speak to me to patronize me or embarrass me. You're twenty-five years old, and yet you still act like the same rat-faced eleven-year-old git you used to be. The only difference is that you don't call me 'Mudblood' anymore."

He licked his lips. "I don't...I don't know. I thought the bet would be a laugh. You always look so serious, and I thought..." He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to hide the pink tinge on his cheeks by turning his head from her. "Look, Granger. I can take you home. We can call off the rest of the night. I didn't mean for it to get so out of hand. I thought..." He laughed darkly. "Looking back, I realize I was stupid to think that you'd find any of this funny."