AN: Helloo humans. So a couple of years ago, I posted this story to a lot of good reception (it had over a hundred thousand hits!), but in a night of shame and drunkenness, I deleted all of the works from my page. After a year or so of debating whether or not that was a good decision, I've decided to post all of my original work here. I'm not proud of it, and my writing style has improved significantly since then. I've also changed my perspective on the way the pair is depicted here a lot, and I'm not a fan of the more simpering Hermione I've created (she's a strong, badass woman and I don't know why I was ever delusional enough to think it was a good idea to take that away from her (even though I didn't realise that's what I was doing at the time of writing this fic)). I have a love/hate relationship with this story. I have about four different versions of it (to varying degrees of completion), but in the end I wasn't happy with where any of them were going or what any of them were about. But in case there's any interest in this story from years ago, here is the original version! I hope you guys like it!
Chapter One
Hermione looked into the mirror, scowling at her reflection. She attempted to tame her mass of chocolate curls into submission. Damn Ginny Weasley for talking her into this. And damn her humanity for being unable to resist her friend's incessant pleading. Of course Ginny had to succumb to the flu today, of all days. She had taken a potion to counteract the effects, but it would take a full twenty-four hours for them to fully kick in. The entire predicament was preposterous.
Due to her sudden illness, Hermione had to interview some mega-industrial tycoon. Ginny hadn't even bothered to give her a name. Sure, Hermione had done her share of interviews—being a part of the Golden Trio, there was no way out of them—but being on the other end of the interviewing process was both new and foreign territory. She had tried to tell her friend this, but Ginny's rebuttal about Hermione's own ambition out of Hogwarts to dabble in politics negated any logical argument she had. If she had the gusto for politics when she was younger, then she had the ability to interview a business man when she's older. In times like this when her logic failed her, she blamed her compassion.
After several more attempts, Hermione huffed, pulling her hair into a french twist. She had managed to tame her curls somewhat since her Hogwarts days, but there was only so much a witch could do in three years. She sighed for what felt like the millionth time, assessing her appearance in the mirror. Being a major benefactor to Ginny's university, as well as being CEO of his company, Hermione assumed the person she was interviewing would have some swanky office in the wizarding equivalent of Knightsbridge. She had decided to go with a grey Dior peplum dress, hoping it would be up to par with whatever her interviewee would be expecting. She even did her makeup, which was something she rarely touched. To complete the look, she borrowed a pair of Ginny's Christian Louboutin black pumps. She felt uncomfortable, to say the least.
With one final look, She walked towards the door, reaching for her coat. She looked over at her friend who donned ridiculous pajamas, most likely made by her mother. She couldn't help but feel guilty for acting so immature. She knew Ginny was really looking forward to the interview. It had taken her nearly six months to schedule it in the first place.
"I'm heading out now, Gin." She called, catching the redhead's attention.
"Good luck with the interview, 'Mione. I really do appreciate this, you know. I'll make it up to you, I swear." The Weasley girl really did look contrite. Hermione smirked at this.
"Just know that you are forever in my debt, and you'll only make it up when I feel it adequate." Hermione fiddled with her diamond necklace, the gesture becoming one of her latest nervous habits.
It was a sixteenth birthday present from her parents. Thinking of them made her heart throb in pain. It had been two years since they were killed. Even after all of her meticulous planning, some Death Eaters still managed to track her parents down in Australia. They didn't even pay attention when they claimed to not know they had a daughter, the wizards killed them just the same. Hermione swallowed passed the lump that managed to form in her throat. Thinking of them now wouldn't do her any good. She just had to push them from her mind and continue on her merry way to the damned interview.
"'Mione, you okay?" Ginny asked, taking in Hermione's sudden withdrawal. She nodded her head to ease the girl's concern.
"I was just thinking about them." She muttered. Ginny's features immediately softened.
"I understand, Hermione. Whenever I see a new prank that George comes up with, I can't help but feel a part of my heart break." Ginny confessed. A violent coughing fit took over her before she could finish what she was going to say. Hermione's heart immediately went out to her friend. She wasn't the only person who lost her family in the war, and she needed to remember that.
"Now remember, Ginny, I left you some soup in the fridge, you remember how to use a microwave, don't you?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah, I just press the numbers, right?" She asked. After rooming together, Hermione had showed Ginny lots of muggle things, such as television, laptops, and microwaves. The witch immediately warmed to them, and even now was happily tapping away on her macbook. Even with the flu, Ginny still found time for her editing. It reminded Hermione of her days when she dutifully studied everyday for at least four hours, regardless of her state. She was happy that Ginny seemed to find her calling. She grabbed the folder containing her questions and tucked them into her purse.
"Yeah, that's right. See you later, Gin, I hope you feel better." Hermione said at last. She grabbed her wand and disapparated.
Hermione appeared outside the looming architectural marvel. It's a huge forty-story office building, made up almost entirely of glass and steel. It was an architect's utilitarian fantasy. She covered her hair, not wanting the rain to mess up her hard work. Wizarding London was subject to dismal weather, as always. Gathering up the last of her Gryffindor courage, she walked inside the intimidating building.
She couldn't help the gasp of awe once she stepped foot into the grande foyer. Honey-onyx made up the floor and pillars that flanked the entryway. Rich mahogany wood covered the walls, giving the entire space a feeling that screamed affluence. A crystal chandelier was suspended by a gold chain at least thirty feet above her head. The ostentatiousness of it all wasn't lost on her, though.
She started walking, simultaneously taking in other witches and wizards in the foyer with her. All of them were dressed to the nines. The men wore fine robes and suits, looking as though they just walked off of the pages of WQ (the wizarding equivalent of GQ), while the woman wore respectable designer apparel of their own. Hermione felt a rush of gratitude for Ginny's assistance in picking out her own outfit. Had her friend not been there to help her, she would have shown up in nothing more than a T-shirt and jeans.
She reached the secretary desk, eyeing the immaculate bottle-blonde with a twinge of envy. She was wearing the sharpest charcoal suit jacket and white shirt Hermione had ever seen.
"May I help you?" She asked, not even bothering to tear her eyes off of her computer screen.
"I have an appointment with the CEO for six-thirty." Hermione replied. Her voice sounded dangerously close to cracking. She cleared her throat, hoping to appease her sudden nerves.
"Name?" The blonde asked, typing away. The wizarding world had become a lot more accepting of muggle technology. It seemed as though computers and cellphones were taking over the market here as well.
"Hermione Granger for Ginny Weasley." She fiddled with her necklace, trying to appease her sudden self-consciousness.
"Alright Miss Granger, you'll want to go to floor forty. You'll want the last elevator on the right. Have a nice day." The blonde replied automatically. She glanced away from the screen once, only to pass her a visitors badge. Thanking her, Hermione walked over to the bank of elevators and past the two security guards who were both smartly dressed in their well-cut black suits.
The elevator ride was surprisingly short for how high her destination was. The doors slid open revealing yet another beautiful lobby. Another blonde woman, this time dressed in a black dress with white and diamond jewelry, rose to greet her as soon as she stepped out of the doors.
"Hello Miss Granger, you can wait here until your appointment." She smiled pleasantly, showing a perfect set of white teeth. Hermione walked over the sitting area the blonde was pointing to, settling down on the comfortable black leather. Beyond the couch was a floor-to-ceiling window, and Hermione couldn't help but pause in awe at the view. Because of how high up she was, she could clearly see almost all of wizarding London. With the sun farther down on the horizon, the entire city was tainted in golden hues. It was undeniably beautiful.
Tearing her eyes away from the view, Hermione fished out the list of questions from her purse. She really wished she had some more time to research him on her own. Hell, even knowing his name would be helpful! She hated being thrust into positions where she was left in the dark, it didn't settle well with her at all. She could feel the nerves clench in her gut making her heart pound harder in her chest. Hermione rolled her eyes at herself. Get a grip, Hermione! You've battled Voldemort and dated Ronald Weasely. You can get through this.
She would be the first to admit that dating Ron was not one of the best decisions she'd made in her young life. He was entirely too clumsy and self-conscious to do anything romantic. She felt that after snogging him a few times, it was nothing special. She didn't feel that pull, that spark. Perhaps she had read too many romantic novels, skewing her perception of reality, but she felt that there was always something missing. After nearly three months of their awkward relationship, Hermione called the quits, claiming they would be better off as friends. She did love him, but she found out after their relationship that it was more of a sibling love than anything else.
Yet another blonde strode into the lobby. What was with all of the blondes? Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that her interviewee was some kind of playboy with a particular interest in fair-haired woman. Great, Ginny probably had her interviewing a fifty-year-old pervert. She shuddered at the thought. Gathering the last fragments of her courage, she stood up.
"Miss Granger?" the latest blonde asked.
"Yes." Her voice was unwavering with a confidence Hermione certainly didn't feel. She shuffled her papers, putting them back into her purse.
"He will see you in a moment. May I take your jacket?" She stepped forward, smiling pleasantly at her. Hermione shrugged out of her coat, thanking her.
"Have you been offered a refreshment?" She asked, eyeing the bare tabletop.
"No, I haven't." Hermione replied. She smirked. Was Blonde-Number-One in trouble now? Blonde-Number-Two frowned, eyeing the other woman behind the desk.
"Would like any coffee, tea, or water?" She asked.
"A glass of water, please." Hermione's throat was suddenly dry.
"Andrea, would you please get Miss Granger a glass of water?" Blonde-Number-Two asked in a sugary-sweet voice. Hermione had the vaguest suspicion that the two didn't get along. Andrea jumped at the sound of her name, and immediately left to do as requested.
"Please excuse her. Andrea's only working here because she's some distant relative of mine." Blonde-Number-Two said. She couldn't help but detect the bitter quality to her voice, or the slight narrowing of her gaze.
"Don't worry about it." Hermione smiled, not wanting to get in between their dispute.
Andrea returned with the water. Both women turned away, going off to do something more important. Hermione gulped down the water in a matter of seconds, attempting to ease her dry mouth. She really hated getting nervous like this. Her stomach fluttered with nerves, her blood pumping faster through her veins.
"He will see you now." Andrea called, not bothering to escort her. She gestured vaguely to a set of double doors behind her.
Hermione stood up, shuffling on her feet. With long strides, she reached the door, hesitantly pulling on the steel doorknob. She took in a deep breath, walking through the impressive doors and into an even more impressive office. She took not even a few steps inside before loosing her footing and tripping over her own feet.
Dammit! She knew she shouldn't have worn these heels! Before she could collide head-first into the floor, a pair of gentle hands enveloped her, saving her from further embarrassment. Heat poured through the fabric of her dress. Hermione felt goosebumps travel over her body. He caught her by the waist, hauling her off her feet and directly into his chest. The air left her lungs in a rush, followed immediately by every bit of common sense she possessed. Even through the layers of clothing between them, his biceps were like stone beneath her palms, his stomach a hard slab of muscle against her own. When he sucked in a sharp breath, her nipples tightened, stimulated by the expansion of his chest.
"That was quite the entrance, Granger." The man sneered. Hermione's head snapped up at the sound of his voice. She took in her interviewee for the first time, dread settling into her stomach. Her mouth dropped open, her mind racing a mile a minute.
"Malfoy?"