Written for Paris in December's Pick-A-Plot contest Round One, using the prompt 'Draco has been following Hermione around all day. She finds out it's because he has consumed a strong love potion, possibly brewed by Pansy Parkinson, the Patil twins, or all three.'

(It's not finished yet and tbhus far, really doesn't meet all of the requirements, but I'll get up what I've got as a start so at least I've submited something! Will try finish it soon!)

If someone had told her that by time she was twenty she would be working in a joke shop she would have laughed in their face and considered telling them to go straight to St Mungo's and get their brains checked, because the very idea of her doing such a thing was completely implausible. She was a hard-working, studious girl who'd longed for an exciting job somewhere that would make a change in the world, and would give her a steady schedule to work to. She was not one of those live-for-the-moment, spontaneous, jokester type people who danced through life on the borders of what was right and wrong. It seemed that now, however, her life had turned completely upside down.

The ending of the war should have been the time when the prejudice against different blood types was abolished, as much as any prejudice could be, however that had not been the case. If anything, it had only got worse and muggle-borns suffered dearly from it. Hermione included.

After returning to Hogwarts the following September she had completed her NEWTS and sent out many job application forms. Most of them were to various departments in the Ministry of Magic, but also one to St Mungo's, and also some other independent businesses she'd come across. As the summer drew nearer and the applications returned she became more and more desperate for a letter of acceptance to arrive. By the time it came to board the train home for the last time, all those around her had jobs; Harry and Ron had been accepted into the Auror training scheme, Ginny as a Unspeakable for the Department of Mysteries, Neville to the Department for Herbs and Maladies, Luna, unsurprisingly, was going to work for her father at the Quibbler... Everyone she considered a friend - just not her. They'd tried many times to convince her that just because she hadn't had one yet didn't mean she was never going to get one, after all, not all of the places she'd applied to had responded yet. With only two left to do so, her hopes fell.

The summer was an eventful one with Hermione searching desperately for any kind of job, resorting in walking the streets of Diagon Alley and asking almost every shop she passed. Heaven help her to ever get a job since she was even turned down by Florish and Blotts!

Sighing, she made her way back down the quickly clearing streets with her hopes well and truly defeated. Seeing the familiar, flashing sign of Weasley Wizard Wheezes she changed her course to the direction of the shop. At least there'd be a friendly face to talk to in there.

The door squeaked as she pushed it open, no doubt on purpose so that George knew whenever someone was entering the shop. She couldn't suppress the smile as she looked around, bright colors blinding her as various products flashed at her from the over-stuffed shelves. While she wasn't the biggest fan of jokes and rotten pranks, she couldn't help but be amazed at just how many things the twins, and now George, had created. They were much smarter than they'd let people believe.

Sighing at the disappointment of the day, she began to wander through the shelves, listening to the muttered conversations coming from near the counter. Georges muffled tones drifted down to her, and another familiar yet not familiar voice joined his.

She picked up a packed of Wheezer Botts, Georges' own version of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans that came in an even wackier array of flavors, and made her way to the counter. Despite the risk of disgusting flavored sweets, she couldn't help but enjoy WB's, because when she came across a good one, boy was it good!

"Hey Ho, Granger." George grinned at her, "Buying more already?"

Hermione smiled, "Comfort sweets. Another useless day." She sighed and looked away, her mind drifting back to the disappointments she'd faced once again. Would she ever find a job?

George smiled sympathetically at her. "Still no luck on the job front, eh?"

She shook her head, plonking the box of sweets on the counter and pulling some sickles from her pocket. She handed them to George and shook her head when he tried to give her back extra change. He always tried to – it never worked.

It was George's turn to sigh as he returned the cash to the register. He sent her a grin. "So, I'm waiting."

Her eyebrows pulled together in confusion. "Waiting?"

"Well of course. I've watched you go into every shop along this street today to ask for a job and wondering how long it would take before you appeared."

She sighed half-heartedly, "You know I can't resist these sweets on a bad day. Thanks for the vote of confidence though." She popped open the box and picked a pink colored sweet off the top.

She could see George rolling his eyes. "That wasn't what I was referring to..."

A snigger from behind her caused her to jump. She'd forgotten about the second voice she'd heard earlier while browsing the isles. She turned to see a familiar head of blonde hair and silver eyes staring back at her. She let out a silent groan. This was just what she needed; a reason for some snobby, rich, obnoxious arse to take a jab at her inability to find work.

"You know, Granger, I think he was referring to the fact that this shop, also, is on this street. And seeing as how you've asked in every other... Aren't you forgetting one?" His smirk was exactly how she remembered as he leaned past and grabbed a tray of chocolates of the counter, choosing a little round one with a squiggly pattern on top. He dropped the tray unceremoniously onto the counter again.

"Oi! Those weren't yours you Prick." George moved the box under the counter and sent a glare towards the blonde, "However, Hermione, he has a point."

Another snigger was followed by a muttered, "If you don't want people eating them don't leave them in plain sight."

Hermione looked backwards and forwards between the two. Were they being... civil? Friendly? George must have picked up on his confusion because he laughed – jerking his head to one side. "Piss off you. Get back to your shelf stacking. They won't stack 'em selves you know."

It was the blondes turn to roll his eyes before he stuck two fingers up at George and vanished down the nearest isle. It was then that Hermione noticed the Magenta robes that he was wearing. From Georges chuckle she wouldn't have been surprised if her jaw was trailing along the floor.

"He... He works for you?"

George nodded smugly. "Never thought you'd see the day when a Malfoy worked for a Weasley, did you?"

"Why..?" She couldn't understand it. They were the richest family in the wizarding world, and there he was, working in a lowly shop stacking shelves under the leadership one of the family's sworn enemies – a Weasley.

He shrugged, "He needed a job. Long story - something about and argument with his father about old Voldy and getting kicked out. He won't talk about it really. And really, how could I ever pass up the once in a lifetime opportunity to say that a Malfoy works for me?"

It was her turn to smile. "I'm still struggling to understand why he asked here. There are dozens of other places and businesses around-"

"-And as you have learnt today, very few are being very accepting at the moment. You've had a problem getting a job because you're muggle born. He's had problems getting a job because of the role his family played in the war. I watched him do what you've just done all day a few weeks back... Though, you're taking a lot longer to ask that he did."

"You mean..?"

"Do you want a job or don't you, Hermione? You only have to ask." He ducked around the door behind him and re-emerged a minute later with a new, magenta robe in his hands. He offered it to her. "If you're interested, I suggest you hurry your arse up and get changed, and then you can start by helping stack those shelves. Choice is yours." He moved down to where a small queue of customers had formed and turned his back to her.

She started down at the new uniform she now held. A job. George was offering her a job. She blinked. This was what she'd been searching for a failing to find for the past who-only-knew how long. But, a joke shop? She smiled to herself. Beggars couldn't be choosers, and she was doubtful that she'd ever find anywhere else.

Part of her felt as if George was only giving her this job out of pity rather than necessity, but she still didn't have it in her to refuse. If it wasn't for the fact he was busy she'd have been tempted to run up to him and kiss him. Instead she hurried around and into the back room, eager to get started. Things were finally looking up for her.

By the end of her shift she'd changed her mind on the idea of George only giving her the job out of pity. The shop had been a mad rush of people all day and she'd been run off her feet. George kept her busy stacking shelves and the customers kept her busy asking where various products were, at which point she'd have to start searching wildly for products she never even knew existed. And Malfoy? He just seemed to shadow her every movement, always lurking somewhere near her. She told herself he was just doing his job, after all the shop wasn't a very big place, but she still couldn't shake off the feeling that he was following her. She tried convincing herself George had told him to make sure she did everything right. That was what it was. It was...

By time five o'clock came and the last of the customers had been shooed out the door, Hermione collapsed on the nearest stool behind the counter.

From behind her came a deep chuckle. She looked back to see George standing in the doorway watching her. "Good work today, Granger."

She rolled her eyes at his continued use of her last name. "Madness. Utter madness. I'd never even heard of half of the things they were asking for!"

"And that, m'dear, is why you start as a shelf stacker. It gives you plenty of time to get to know the shop and its products." She watched him as he emptied the till, "Oh, and your shift isn't over till half past, just so you know."

"Oh?"

He waved a hand around. "Those shelves don't stock themselves you know."

Malfoy appeared through the door behind him with two large boxes. He placed them on the counter and looked at George. "You mean you're not making me stock these by myself today? There's a bloody first." He picked the top box up and vanished down an aisle.