A/N: Hello! I don't own any Harry Potter characters. If I did, I'd be awesome.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
Bloody hell.
Time was slowly ticking by as the young brunette sat in her cramped office. The room itself was large enough to suit two people comfortably in the environment in which she worked, but not in her case. Large floor to ceiling bookshelves lined every wall except for the one that was a paned window overlooking the calm muggle street below. There was no peace in the room, however, due to the young woman throwing down yet another large tome with no results. One would think that in some book somewhere there would be a mention of the Veil other than "no one knows what its purpose is." One would also think that if such information existed, Hermione Granger would find it in due course.
But of course not, she thought.She had exhausted every source she could get her hands on from libraries, the Ministry, and even several private collections including one belonging to a Draco Malfoy. She doubted that the collection actually belonged to him, but rather to his father. She was rather thankful to have gone through her old schoolmate, even if they were bitter rivals, instead of the former Inner Circle Death Eater. The pupil is far easier to persuade than the master, she reasoned.
That had been a rather interesting experience. She had decided that it was more likely to get what she wanted by not calling ahead and showing up at his office at the ministry unannounced. The blonde had been swamped at the time, the job of Deputy Minister of Magic has that effect, but his secretary was none other than Lavender Brown allowing Hermione a chance to catch him unawares. Brown had told her the time to show up, let her into his office, and had planned to take a photo of Malfoy's reaction to seeing part of the former Golden Trio in his office if Hermione hadn't been against it. She had barely been in his office thirty seconds when he slammed open the door then turned whiter than Nearly Headless Nick.
"Granger." He stated monotonously.
"Malfoy." She responded likewise.
"To what do I owe this," he sneered, "pleasure." He strolled past her, his shock either forgotten or hidden, and lazily reclined in the fine leather chair behind his equally fine oak desk. His eyes roamed over her figure, before resting on her eyes, and no expression was readable on his face. Five years had been good to him in an aesthetic sense. His hair was longer and fell around his face in wisps. He had the body of a finely tuned Quidditch god, but his eyes were still the same: cold, distant, and empty.
"There are several books in your collection that I wish to borrow for Ministry research." She had never moved from the spot in front of his desk and did not take a seat as she was not offered one. She stood relaxed and her tone indicated that she was talking to a stranger, rather than one she went to school with for seven years.
"Last time I checked, you do not work for the Ministry." He looked bored and almost moved to dismiss her. He stopped after she cracked a Cheshire grin.
"Not officially."
His eyes narrowed at that. He had forgotten that the precious Gryffindor princess was an outside contractor of the Ministry and was paid very handsomely for it. Her knowledge and research skills were unquestionably the best the Ministry had ever come across, but a public office in a formerly corrupt institution was not a career she had wanted to pursue. Consequently, she became self-employed, working for a number of companies including Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, Longbottom Greenhouses, P & P Patil Salons, and even St. Mungo's. In freelance research in translation, spell development, and potion development, she had found her niche. After two years of success at this, the Ministry eventually offered her a job, which she declined, and in their desperation to have her under their thumb, took a place on her list of clients. Malfoy reasoned that if he refused her request, a very angry Arthur Weasley would blow apart the door to his office and demand his resignation. Weasley, Sr. was the only boss Malfoy had as he was elected Minister of Magic in a landslide victory not two months after the defeat of Voldemort.
"What books would you be looking for?" He queried, not liking having to acquiesce to her request.
"That depends on what you have." She liked playing this game, knowing the blonde pureblood prat was putty in her hands, if unwillingly and reluctantly. "I would very much like to have access to your moreprivate collections."
Malfoy noticeably grimaced. He realized that she wanted access to the Malfoy private libraries scattered throughout the world in their various manors and villas. He could not deny her, so he would have to censor which ones she accessed. After some quick thinking as to which ones would benefit her the most, and the least, and taking into account that she herself might have the same knowledge of his family's libraries, he decided to give her permission to travel to two manors and one villa by Floo.
"Malfoy Manor in Devonshire, Maison Parfait outside of Paris, and Villa di Pulito in Rome should have what you need. I'll arrange to have the fireplaces at each place grant you access."
Hermione's eyes widened. She expected to maybe get access to some of the family's less extravagant libraries, but here he was allowing her to go, in person, to the three biggest private libraries his family owned. Suspicion clouded over her eyes as she thought that there must be a catch.
"I will be accompanying you of course," He said smugly. "I can't have an aficionado of rare books such as yourself rampaging through priceless collections passed down through countless generations, you might break something, or get lost." His arrogance seemed to drip off every word as Hermione stood speechless before him. She had been stupid to think that Malfoy would let her go into his family's houses unescorted. Noticing her silence, he added, "you wouldn't want to meet my father down a dark corridor unescorted, now would you?"
She decided at that moment that she hated Draco Malfoy, or that she loved him. Merlin only knows what games Lucius Malfoy would like to play with a new pet caught unawares in his domain. She would benefit from not having to look over her shoulder constantly while doing her research.
"Very well," she said. "When do we leave?"
He smiled deviously, making creases in his normally flawless face.
"Right now," he responded as he gracefully got up from his chair, grabbed his overcoat and her arm before she had a chance to respond. He pulled some powder out of a Ming Dynasty vase sitting by the fireplace before yelling, "Malfoy Manor."
A swift knock on the door prompted Hermione out of her reverie. The blonde prat took her on a wild goose chase. The trip had been a complete waste of time, so to speak. She let out a long sigh as images of deviously smiling blonde men entered her mind. The knock sounded again.
After beckoning them to enter, a tall, black-haired, bespeckled man waltzed into her office, whistling a merry tune.
"Ready to go to lunch, Mione?" She smiled as she placed several books on one of the shelves.
"Yep." She grabbed her coat, a book, and locked arms with Harry before exiting her office and locking and warding the door.
A/N: I likey reviews. If you like the story (of what little is here so far) please leave a little note. I likey reviews.