Disclaimer: All Harry Potter related characters, places and themes belong to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury and Scholastic.
Incredible beta for this story: MrBenzedrine
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Chapter 1: Hanging Like a Fruit
He would never agree. His proposition had overwhelmed her, and yet, she knew that what she wanted in return would throw him off balance. It was an unattainable goal, but that certainly had never stopped Hermione before. "I want you to teach me."
"Teach you what, exactly?"
"Teach me to be…" she paused and looked away from his steady gaze. "Teach me to be what you say I am."
"Just spit it out, Granger," he snapped. "You know exactly what I want from you, so tell me exactly what you want from me."
She forced herself to meet his stare. "Teach me to be desirable."
His lips twitched in cunning triumph. "Deal."
3 weeks earlier…
Hermione Granger liked her morning tea very hot, very strong, and with no extra frills like sugar or cream. There truly was nothing better to help her start her day than an aromatic brew freshly poured into her favorite red mug. It helped that she began every day the same way since starting a satisfying career as a potioneer at Materia Medica four years prior.
It wasn't easy being so meticulous, but Hermione reveled in an orderly environment. Organization, timeliness, abiding by the rules and laws that governed her life were all things she strived to accomplish. She was the Hermione Granger, after all, top of her class at both Hogwarts and the graduate potioneer program. Not many young witches and wizards kept up such a strict and logical lifestyle at the age of twenty-four, but, then again, Hermione had never been a typical witch.
It never bothered her to follow the same routine every morning: wake up, bathe, groom, dress, tea and toast while reading The Daily Prophet, then out the door by 7:50 AM in order to apparate to work by 8:00 AM. After such a tumultuous childhood and adolescence where nothing ever seemed to go according to plan, Hermione took immense pleasure in the organized and predictable lifestyle that now embodied her young adulthood.
Her life was finally calm and predictable. The workweek was nearly over. Close to a discovery on a project she had been working on for the past few months, she looked forward to having a great weekend with her dearest friends. As long as things continued to go as planned, life would always be pleasant.
Hermione released a satisfied sigh as she reached the sleek laboratory that had lived a former life as an abandoned potions warehouse. She entered the lobby of the building, balancing several vials and books between her arms. The smell of potion ingredients and chemical cleaning products hung in the air as she walked past the security desk and down the hallway towards her office. Charlotte, the security witch, smiled at her. "Mr. Wincher would like to see you in his office," she said. "He said that he'd like to see you the moment you arrive."
Hermione took a calming breath and readjusted the load in her arms. She thanked Charlotte for the message, hurried to her office, and dropped the books onto the chair directly behind her desk. Carefully, she placed the vials on top of the large desk currently covered with multiple rolls of parchment, quills, ink, more vials, more books, and a sleeping, shorthaired, black and gray tabby cat.
"Scoot over, Nyx, you lazy bug," said Hermione. She smiled lovingly at his round green eyes as they opened to glare at her. "You sleep much more than you help, you know."
Nyx meowed sullenly at the gentle rebuke. "Oh yes, sweetheart, it's time to start being a productive kitty instead of a paperweight. Hurry along now and catch those mice that love to creep around this old building. Off with you, now." She watched the cat slowly come to his feet, blink slowly at her, and stretch before hopping off the desk and sauntering out the open door. She envied the cat at that moment, knowing she had to face Eli Wincher and whatever news he had for her. Your boss asking to see you was never a good sign.
She dusted off her hands, grabbed her lab robe, and quickly checked her face in the mirror by her office door. A nervous face looked back at her, surrounded by more brown hair than a girl could handle. She frowned and hoped the small redness on her cheek was not the beginning of a spot. It wouldn't do at all to show up in front of Eli looking like a pubescent young lady with no sense of how to keep her hair under control. He was, after all, the most handsome man in the entire lab and, possibly, the entire universe.
Hermione had developed a miserable crush on the man after being hired by him following her completion of the graduate potioneer program. For four years, she admired him from afar. Very far. She had most likely spoken to him only 10 times since meeting him, but every time was a precious memory. With more than 400 employees at Materia Medica, it was easy to become lost in the crowd.
Hermione took another deep breath and left her office, heading in a beeline towards Eli's. She smiled at his assistant once she passed the double doors that led to his suite, and he ushered her into Eli's office immediately. Hermione took a long moment to fill her gaze of her boss. Eli Wincher truly was the absolute perfect man.
"Hermione, just the woman I've been looking for," said Eli, flashing that brilliant smile at her as he stood up and offered her his hand. "Thank you for coming in this morning, please take a seat."
Hoping Eli couldn't hear her heart beating out of her chest, she took one of the proffered seats and folded her hands in her lap, unsure of what to do with them. She watched him walk around the desk back to his own chair and internally sighed at the way his slacks fit so snugly.
"You must be wondering why I've asked you in here today," he began. His eyes were the darkest brown, surrounded by long lashes, and they nearly made her swoon as they focused on her. "I want to begin by congratulating you on your most recent success. The formulaic changes you made to the respibene potion to treat acute, floo powder-induced pulmonary inflammation were nothing short of brilliant."
Hermione's heart nearly exploded in a combination of pride and relief. Pride, because he was praising her, and relief, because she wasn't in trouble. "Thank you, sir," she responded. "My team is very efficient, and I'm very proud of all the hard work everyone puts in."
"I respect your modesty, Hermione, but I know you have much to do with the successes of your projects. You are a born leader and one of the sharpest potioneers we have ever hired."
When she died, Hermione hoped a heaven existed and that Eli Wincher would be there saying all of those words over and over again as he fed her grapes and wine. "Thank you so much, sir. I love this job more than I can say."
He smiled at that, his straight and dazzling teeth flashing against his dark skin. "I'm very glad to hear that. I have called you in here not just to exalt your performance, but to offer you an opportunity I hope you'll accept."
She hoped it was an opportunity to become his wife.
"In about three months' time, the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers will be hosting the International Healing Potions Conference in Sao Paulo, and we have been asked to submit a presentation on our contributions to the field. I couldn't think of a better witch or wizard to represent our company than you. I do hope you'll accept."
The International Healing Potions Conference was the biggest event for the medicinal and therapeutic potions field. All of the elite professionals who participated in the development and business of creating potions for use at St. Mungo's and magical hospitals around the world attended annually to share the latest research and innovations.
Hermione blinked rapidly, wondering if she had lost consciousness. "You want me to put on a presentation for the IHPC? Mr. Wincher…I don't know what to say."
"Please say you'll do it," he responded. "I try to attend the conference every year, but this is the first time we've been asked to speak. Your hard work and passion for what you do make you the perfect person for the task. I know the conference will happen before we know it, so if you decide to do this, please come to me for any help you might need. We've been allotted an hour for our presentation, with some time at the end for the audience to ask questions."
"Thank you so much, sir," Hermione said; her skin felt warm with dread and a smidgen of interest. Could she really do this? "I believe I can do it. I'll try to represent this company to the best of my ability."
He laughed at that. Would she ever tire of hearing that musical sound? "I never worried that you wouldn't, Hermione. I'll send 'round a note by the end of the week with all of the details for the trip and conference. I'm quite looking forward to it."
"You'll be going, too?" Her dread doubled in intensity. Presenting a topic to the international potioneer community and in front of Eli?
"I wouldn't miss it. I've been looking for some new blood to take to conference instead of the same group of executives, and I know you'll enjoy it."
They exchanged a few more words and, shortly thereafter, Hermione closed his office door, nearly breaking into a run back to her office. The minute she reached her office, she slammed the door behind her and leaned against it. A trip to Brazil with her ridiculously handsome boss? This was the opportunity of a lifetime; she would have to spend a weekend with him while trying not to overwhelm him with her social ineptness. She never knew what to say around him. Her tongue refused to say witty and clever things in his presence. She wanted nothing more than to impress him and for him to see her as more than one of his employees.
This trip would surely be a mortifying nightmare, and it certainly did not fit well into her carefully planned life. Bugger.
Hermione found solace at her desk just a few moments later. She gathered a scroll and quill to begin listing out the chemical properties of the vials she brought in that morning. Hopefully, the vials would contain just what she needed to make a breakthrough in her latest experiment.
Her current project involved altering a popular potion used to treat Dragon Pox. The current potion's major flaw was its unfortunate side effect of leaving behind disfiguring scars. After reading one patient's testimonial of attempting to remove the scars left by the potion with a near-fatal mix of Essence of Dittany and Tramble berries, Hermione decided that she could not continue to let witches and wizards risk their lives because of an unsightly side effect.
Half an hour passed in silence as she lost herself in her work, her mind clearing of any intruding thoughts. Unfortunately, when one worked in a lab, interruptions were part and parcel.
"Hermione! HERMIONE!" a husky female voice shouted right outside the door before a pretty face appeared in the doorway.
"Astoria, what on earth?" Hermione quickly stood up from behind the desk.
"It's happened. We figured it out!" Astoria Greengrass, the loveliest, sweetest colleague Hermione could have asked for, panted slightly as she tried to explain.
"Are you wearing the same clothes you wore yesterday?" Hermione squinted as she took in Astoria's wrinkled blouse and lab robe. "Did you sleep in the lab?"
Astoria waved away Hermione's concern. "No, no, I didn't sleep in the lab. I didn't go home last night, also, I didn't sleep last night. How could I sleep when I was so close to solving this stupid equation? Thanks to your brilliant suggestion before you left, I finally determined that it wasn't the weight of the dandelion root that was causing the negative reactions with my appolitis potion, but the age of the root!"
"I'm glad I could help," Hermione finally said. "It was nothing, really. I had faced a similar dilemma with that potion for witch itch. Now, it looks like you need to get home and get some rest. You look like death."
Astoria collapsed into Hermione's vacated chair and propped her feet up onto the desk. "I don't know if I could manage to fall asleep with all of this adrenaline pumping through my veins. I've been working on this potion since the first week I started here, and it's finally ready for the clinical trials."
"You're an amazing witch, Astoria, I knew you would figure it out eventually," said Hermione. She adjusted the books on her desk, grinning with pride at her friend's accomplishment. "What will be your next step?"
"I have no idea, to be quite honest. I've been so focused on perfecting the apollitis potion that I never even considered what to work on afterwards," said Astoria.
"You could help me with the serpantir serum," she said, referring to the potion used to treat Dragon Pox.
Astoria's gaze flitted away, and her smile disappeared. "No, thank you. I, uh, I know that's your pet project, and you have worked so hard on it. I know Healer Estelle has some potions she needs me to start developing."
Hermione nodded in understanding. Both she and Astoria worked in the Research and Development side of the company, but Hermione's specialty focused on enhancing potions already in existence for ever-evolving diseases, while Astoria's specialty focused on developing new potions. They collaborated at times on various assignments and relied on each other when they reached the end of their intellectual tethers. Hermione began working at Materia Medica two years prior to Astoria, but they had found many things in common over the past two years, and a friendship quickly blossomed between them.
Hermione had never met anyone, until Astoria, who held the same rabid thirst for knowledge, and so she tended to blissfully ignore the fact that Astoria would be marrying Draco Malfoy in a year's time.
She had not laid eyes on Malfoy since the Battle of Hogwarts, when he and his family had slunk away to lick their wounds and do whatever losers of a war did. If she never had to see him again, it would be no loss. She still did not fully understand how Astoria had become his fiancée. True, she came from an illustrious pureblood family, but Astoria had been sorted into Ravenclaw, holding a much more enlightened view on social issues than that vile toad.
Astoria once mentioned that she and Draco had an understanding spanning many years, and it suited them both to marry. Apparently, Astoria did not know Hermione well enough if she thought that insufficient explanation would quench Hermione's curiosity. Who would willingly marry Draco Malfoy?
"I have some news, too," said Hermione. "Big news, actually."
"What? Finally told Wincher how madly in love with him you are?" Astoria burst out laughing when Hermione scowled at her.
"I am not in love him, thank you. I fancy him a bit, is all," she replied.
Astoria rolled her eyes in reply.
"He has, actually, asked me to present a topic at the IHPC in July. We'll be going to Brazil together, and I am super nervous," she said.
"Hermione, you clever girl!" Astoria squealed and jumped out of the seat to wrap her arms around the shorter witch. "I'm so proud of you! When did this happen? What are you going to wear? What will your topic be? Will you finally let me take you to my hairdresser in Camden?"
Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the hysterics as she hugged Astoria back. "It happened this morning. I don't know. I don't know. And, no, my hair is hopeless."
Astoria pulled back and sighed. "I'm so excited for you. This will be the trip of a lifetime, and maybe, just maybe, Wincher will confess that he has a deep, dark desire for you."
"Yes, and maybe, just maybe, your fiancé will confess his deep, dark desire for a Weasley," said Hermione, knowing her friend would not take offense.
Laughing, Astoria nudged her shoulder. "You never know. That Ron is quite a handsome fella. Draco could, one day, see him and may very well be overcome with lust for him."
They both burst into laughter at the thought.
Later that evening, Hermione unlocked the door to her flat in Knightsbridge and ushered Astoria and Ginny inside. Ginny had met up with them at the lab, and they Apparated together to Hermione's flat to celebrate the end of the work-week. Ginny had initially met Astoria through Hermione, and they took a great liking to each other. Harry and Ron would forever be Hermione's greatest friends, but it was nice to have some female companionship as a young woman.
The women hung up their coats in the closet by the front door, and Hermione watched Ginny head into the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine and three glasses before returning to the living room. "Alright, ladies, I have all night with you. Harry went to a Cannons game with Ron, and I would love to hear about your exciting lives."
"Exciting?" Astoria and Hermione looked at each before laughing outright. "The most exciting thing that has happened to me in the past year was finding out a new sushi place was opening up under my flat," said Astoria.
Hermione accepted the glass of rosé from Ginny and stretched out her legs in front of her. "Now that Ginny's an old, married lady, she thinks we lead scandalous lives."
Ginny smiled. "You're living the single life, Hermione. Now, don't get me wrong, I love Harry more than is probably healthy, but being single was so fun! You have the whole world in front of you and no one to stop you."
"I could have a fun, single life if only I wasn't so good at self-sabotage," Hermione mused. "I see an attractive man, and boom! My mouth becomes a separate being and says things that I don't even think can be considered English."
Ginny and Astoria tried their hardest not to laugh. "Oh, you really can't be that bad," said Ginny.
"I don't know about that," Astoria said with mirth in her eyes. "Our boss once passed by us in the hallway and said, 'Cheers, ladies, hope all is well,' and Hermione's voice cracked as she responded with: 'Nothing's been better than well, thanks.'"
Hermione buried her face in her hands as she recalled that humiliating episode. "What does that even mean? Why does my brain hate me!"
"He probably doesn't remember it," Astoria reassured her, rubbing her shoulder. "He just kept on walking and didn't squint in confusion at all." She looked at Ginny and nodded her head silently to affirm that he had, indeed, squinted in confusion.
"You just need practice, Hermione," Ginny said. "Your last relationship was with my brother, and we all know he's as romantic as a hemorrhoid."
Hermione laughed and shook her head. "Ron was the best boyfriend, I'll have you know. We just realized we were better suited as friends. The spark wasn't there for us. I realized later on that it was me."
"No, that's not true!" Astoria said. "There's nothing wrong with you."
Hermione shrugged and took a sip of her wine. "I just couldn't manage to fall in love with him. I love him so much, but I never could just let go and be...I don't know, passionate with him. I don't think I'm capable of it…with anyone."
"I know Ron loved you and still loves you, Hermione," Ginny assured her. "It's like you said, you two are just better friends than lovers. Also, I hate you so much for making me refer to my brother as a lover in any capacity."
"I enjoy being single," Hermione confessed with a laugh. "There's nothing inherently wrong with it, but I do miss having someone to come home to and just spend time with. I can't picture myself dating again. My last date was with Ron, and we just went to a Quidditch shop so he could buy a new broom."
"Romantic as a hemorrhoid," Ginny repeated. "Astoria and I will help you get back out there. At least you'll have the pleasure of dating…unlike some people." She gave Astoria a meaningful look. Ginny and Hermione had been trying to surreptitiously find out more about their mysterious relationship. Unfortunately for them, Astoria never did talk much about Draco or their relationship.
Astoria smiled and took a sip of her drink. "I don't have to worry about all the annoyances of dating. 'Did he call? Does he like me? Have we defined the relationship?' I have a very fine gentleman waiting to marry me with no crazy expectations. It's quite ideal to me."
"Yes, but Draco Malfoy?" Ginny asked. "Now, don't take offense, and I'm not exaggerating, but he's the worst human being on the planet"
"You two don't know him like I do," Astoria replied, the wine loosening her tongue. "He has his flaws, of course, but he has always been a true friend to me, and I will always love him for that."
"It's just so surreal that you'll be marrying him, Astoria, when you're so wonderful, and he was just so horrid to us," said Hermione. "I don't know what to make of it all. How can you go along with an arranged marriage, and with him?"
"The last time you saw him was six years ago," Astoria pointed out. "I've known him all my life, so trust me when I say he has changed. Honestly. We don't have a grand romance, but neither of us is looking for one. Our families approve of the match, we get along, and we respect each other's independence. Pureblood marriages aren't like muggle ones. We marry to carry on the family line and to establish stronger connections between the pureblood families. Draco and I both understand this, and, frankly, we don't really mind."
Hermione's head spun with this new information. "You're going to marry him and give up your chances at love? Forever?"
Astoria laughed lightly. "Love can grow with time. I already love Draco very much as a friend, and he's handsome enough, so who says romantic love won't come later?"
Draco… handsome? "You surprise me, Astoria. Your thoughts on marriage are very different from what I was raised to believe, but you're a smart woman, and I'd be a piss-poor friend to judge you."
"You're a better person than I, Hermione; I'm pureblood, and I still think this is mad," Ginny said.
"Not all of us can marry the most famous wizard in recent history," Astoria teased. "Some of us have to settle for infamous artists."
"Wait… Malfoy is an artist?" asked Hermione, her mouth hanging slightly open.
"Oh yes," Astoria responded. She put her wineglass down and hugged a throw pillow to her chest. "He's actually quite talented. Spent a few years away in Belgium studying at an art school. His parents were furious."
"How has it taken us this long in our friendship for this very interesting piece of information to come out?" Ginny asked. "We obviously haven't been asking the right questions."
Astoria laughed. "I know how you all feel about him, so I try not to mention him too much. I assumed once I'm married, I'd force you all to become the best of friends so I won't have to choose."
"The day I become the best of friends with Malfoy is the day I dance naked on the street," said Hermione.
Astoria just smiled. "I'll try and remember that."