The post-Voldemort world of the Famous Harry Potter was exactly the way Hermione Granger had envisioned it. It had played out like a movie right down to that last romance scene, where he'd swept his princess off her feet, they'd gotten married, and lived happily ever after.

Hermione wouldn't lie, she'd always wondered what a 'Happily Ever After' consisted of... and she found out. Harry and Ginny had gotten married after Harry had been deemed the 'Savior of the Wizarding World'... for the second time, and had moved on to play Seeker for Puddlemere United. Between Harry and Ginny, they were the perfect example of a 'Happy Celebrity Couple', always in the media, making huge contributions of unmatchable proportions to charities as a reminder of their good nature, and never subject to tabloid affairs.

The problem with this happy ending that Hermione got to see first hand? It wasn't hers. Nowhere close. Generally, it was what she'd been expecting. Maybe to become a talented healer or something of the like, marry Ron, who would play Quidditch with Harry, and have a bunch of kids. Happily ever after. Turned out that was a scene Hermione Granger would never see.

As it would happen, the end of the war signaled the end of life as she knew it, and several very apparent truths came to light in her mind. A. In the last few years of school at Hogwarts, she'd come to the conclusion that there were only two certainties: Voldemort would win, and kill them... Or they'd defeat Voldemort, and die in the process. B. She'd avoided being a normal teenager, in exchange for perfect marks that meant absolutely nothing in the end, and got her nowhere. C. The end of the war hadn't made her happy.

In fact, all the end of the war did was make her realize that there was no light at the end of the tunnel for her. No bigger, better, adventure for her to delight in. There was no more 'Golden Trio' to save the day, as there was nothing to be saved from. She was no longer the genius that Harry looked to for advice or help on the homework. There was no competition over perfect marks for her to take part in. No world wide 'Head Girl' badge to look forward to. She'd mistakenly lived out all the effort she had back in Hogwarts, out of fear of an unavoidable death. Hell, back then, she hadn't even considered death to be a bad idea. Expelled would have been a worse fate.

That was until she'd seen Cedric die in her fourth year. That had been the beginning of the killing, and the moment she'd convinced herself and accepted that the Golden Trio would follow suit... and therefore, should give everything to the glory of their names and cause, and be inspiration to all the rebels of tyranny and evil to follow.

So maybe she'd lied to herself. She didn't actually imagine a post-voldemort world at all, and all she'd found when it did surface was that she had no idea what the hell to do with herself. Life was no longer fulfilling. She was no longer needed. She accepted it.

It hadn't been long before her chances of a life with Ronald Weasley flew out the window. Her pessimistic and downcast disposition had been too much for Ron to handle. Enough to anger the red head into violent tempers, feeling his former girlfriend was nothing more than a shell of herself, no longer worth the effort, impossible to reverse. Not to mention the conclusion that she was an attention seeking know-it-all who just wasn't happy if she wasn't the brains behind the rest of the operation. So he'd left. Picked up and moved to Romania with his brother, as Dragons were clearly more enthusiastic than his 7 year best friend and suspected future wife.

Hermione flicked her wand to the right, causing a line of plates and glassware to rise from a particularly dirty table, floating through the air towards a small window connecting the wait-station and kitchen of the restaurant. The rest of the garbage swept itself neatly into a trashcan she held in her opposite hand, as a rag appeared to finish the job seconds later. Walking back into the station, she leaned tiredly against the counter, rubbing her temples softly with a dejected sigh that she would see many more of before the end of the day. Glancing down towards her watch, she caught sight of the time just as her replacement rounded the corner, jumping out of the way to avoid ramming into her.

"Bloody hell, Hermione... I'm starting to think you should really get more sleep at night. Maybe you'd make it a few feet farther away from the door?" An older witch responded. Of course, she had a point, and the comment was made more out of concern Hermione expected, given the furrowed brows the squatty little witch sported, but overachieving was a trait long devoid from the brunettes vocabulary, and even a few extra steps seemed just that to her.

On any normal day, she wouldn't have been as tired as she was at that moment, but it was unfortunately a Wednesday, and all Wednesdays meant the same thing.

"Another intervention night?" The witch asked, judging from Hermione's worn face, and her own recollection of which day of the week they'd come across. She had been working with Hermione long enough to know that every Tuesday night was like 'Charity Day' for Harry and Ginny Potter. It was the day that they ceremoniously dragged Hermione out to some undisclosed restaurant to sit her down for a 'nice meal' that involved trying to bring her back around to some sense. Luckily for Hermione, the witch before her had also worked with her long enough to understand how she felt.

A simple nod was the only response she needed to give the witch before she was supplied with a sigh and a shake of the head. "I swear, it's as if every time I think you might be catching onto something, they come along with their empty words and ruin it again."

Hermione smiled softly, shrugging half-heartedly in the process. "We all know how celebrities are... they're so used to everyone taking everything that they say, that they neglect to realize the part where the people that actual know them can tell the difference." The true problem. They took her out, but spoke to her as if she was a piece of wood. Or a brick. Some inanimate object that wasn't going to listen either way, so all they had to do was say the lines, and spend some money so they could say they tried.

Retrieving the coinage from the front of a black apron that wrapped her waist, she glanced down at an open palm with yet another sigh.

.

Within a half hour of closing herself out of the restaurant, she was on her way across Diagon Alley in record time, hugging a light walking coat to her body. It was the only one she had, and she'd made a sacrifice to get it, but it made her look nice, which was the main concern. At least when it came to work, Hermione tried her best to look professional, perhaps to dim some of the concern people always shot at her. In fact, she really did try to hide her mask of indifference all together. The problem was only that once people had spent more than a week around her, the truth would easily begin to show itself.

Nonetheless, she'd made the decision that just because she wasn't happy, didn't mean she couldn't try to bring some happiness to others.

35 minutes after leaving the restaurant, she was walking into the Orphanage. After a 6 am to 10 am shift at her first job, she'd simply grabbed herself a croissant on her way out, and headed out the door, which had become the norm. Hermione liked to think that she could keep her brooding to a select time of day and quantity of time by filling the rest of her day with work. 4 hours at the restaurant, 4 at the orphange, and the last 4 out filing through the Temp agencies. Anything to keep herself busy.

When it came to her voluntary work at the Orphanage, she supposed it was more a desperate attempt to remind herself that it could be worse for her. After all, there she got to see a jam-packed house full of young children whose parents had been killed by Voldemort. They couldn't support themselves, and they weren't old enough for Hogwart's, which left them resigned to the run down old house. Apparently it was too far under the radar of 'big charities' for Harry and Ginny to notice, judging by the conditions.

Hermione sighed softly, pausing by the main door before entering, something that she always did.

They're less fortunate than you. You're all orphans... but you got your parents longer than they did. You got a fighting chance, and it's your own fault if you don't use it. She told herself, opening the door. Her own miniature pep talk had become the norm as well.

Within an instant of moving herself beyond the threshold, Hermione was swarmed by any small body that wasn't preoccupied with something else, and even by some of those who had been in the middle of some task or another. The children saw her as a big sister, and for their own good she presumed, they had no idea what her life was really like. Sure, they could see the emptiness behind her eyes at times, but they assumed it was the same as theirs: Lack of parents. Beyond that, they believed she magically had all the money in the world, and came to see them and work with them for fun and to bring them joy. Never did they suspect that she worked numerous jobs, and could barely afford anything, let alone her apartment. Of course, spending every extra sickle and galleon, and sometimes more, on bringing them small gifts and attempting to fix the place, probably lent them to believe she had more than she did.

She wouldn't fight them. She'd simply let them believe it was true. Allow them to believe in building oneself up from the ashes.

" 'Mione, 'Mione!" A particularly small little girl cried, running to jump straight into the female's arms. Sadly, Hermione had expected this, and been prepared to catch her the moment she'd seen the flash of blonde cutting through the crowd of children. It was always the same. Adelicia was the runt of the litter, and constantly being picked on by the other children. When it came to favorites, the curly haired child was unmistakably Hermione's.

"Addy… what's wrong?" She asked, pulling the child back just far enough to see the tear-stained face that was sniffling and wiping at her eyes.

On cue, a tiny finger moved to point to one of the other children, who immediately ran in the other direction. "Anise pulled my hair! She says we should just cut it alllll off!" By the end, she was on the verge of relapse, dropping her forehead to the older girl's shoulder.

It was all problematic. Given the circumstances, Adelicia was amazingly well-spoken for a four year old, especially after spending a year in the orphanage when her Foster parents fell through. The children as a whole were more willing to blame their situations on each other than a dark lord who had already fallen, taking their families with them, and so, knowing that they only way out was by adoption, Adelicia's special charms made her a prime target for older children. Hermione hadn't been the first to take notice of the girl, and the children hadn't missed a single one who had. Immediately they knew that if they wanted a fair chance, they'd need to keep the desirable runt out of the way.

After a year, it had gotten to the point where the four year old wouldn't come away from her corner unless Hermione walked into the room, when she'd immediately come running. She'd make her way the second the children saw Hermione walk by the window, when she'd make her way out. Unfortunately for the child, even the attempt to come for the volunteer, despite all the children knowing Hermione was only a volunteer, and had no desire to adopt one of them, meant a struggle. She was the only real thing that made Hermione wish she could spend more time with them, or that she had the money to support a child, as she knew that the little girl would serve her share of hazing for stealing even the slightest bit of attention after Hermione left, and despite Hermione's warnings to the other children, there was no way to stop it.

Perhaps Hermione compared herself to the child… She'd been just like her. Even in Hogwarts, she'd been shunned in the beginning for stealing the attention of their professors. She'd made the other students look like common fools, and if hadn't been for Harry befriending her, she'd have dealt her entire 7 years in the same style. Especially now, she knew exactly how the child felt. Showing herself as a prodigy got her beaten down, while hiding it simply made her disappear into the background, a lamb consumed by the lions.

For the next four hours, the child was safe from the wrath of the others, all of whom were acting like a happy family on Hermione's behalf. She'd watched them play with puppets and board games as she made several calls from a list of possible foster parents, looking to at least attempt to move some of the children out of the overpopulated orphanage, which was worked by only volunteers, minus the woman who owned the home and the orphanage itself. She'd been fairly wealthy at one point, but her charity without income had brought her down to just afloat, and she was busy working at the hospital to make sure it stayed that way. She could no longer afford to pay the work, and so she depended on her punctual helpers.

Two came as quick as she'd expected, with no problems from the children, which she'd also expected. They were always angels when Hermione was present, though she'd heard horror stories from some of the other volunteers. She'd already seen the next in line walk in, gaining generally the same greeting that she had, and with a kiss to Adelicia's head on the way out, and a promise that she'd be there the next day at the same time, she snuck out the back entrance to run off to the temp agency.

Draco paced the length of his office slowly, gazing out the window every now and then at the high-rise view of the wizarding world that he was granted, over an early afternoon sky.

After the war, Draco's father had been placed in Azkaban, and Draco temporarily disowned everything it meant to be a Malfoy. He loved his mother, but he needed to get away from everything. As he clearly couldn't get away from himself, it seemed he'd have to be the one to disappear for a time. He'd moved out to a small flat for several months to think about what he wanted to do with himself, and thinking about the years prior. He'd never supported Voldemort. He'd never supported the Death Eaters. Yet, they'd branded his pale skin with their black ink, and made him appear as one of them. What choice did he have? They'd told him on multiple occasions that he had two choices: Serve the dark lord, or die. It seemed to him that death was the less desirable of the choices he was given, and the way he saw it, he only needed to act as if he were a loyal servant. It'd become a bit too hard when they'd asked him to kill the Headmaster, naturally. Harsh words and hexes were nothing, entertainment really. Child's play. Death was a good deal different.

Draco hated the Golden Trio. The perfect little prudes who never did anything wrong. That was honest to goodness, no lie, truth. Not an act in the least, so the first few years were simple. He loathed Voldemort, the Death Eaters, the entire organization. When it came down to it, Loathing was a far greater emotion than hatred.

By the end, he'd decided he didn't want to be on either team. He considered it as simply helping himself by opposing the Dark Lord, and he was relieved when the war ended. Potter and his groupies got their glory, and then moved off with it and their fame. He'd expected it. He knew Potter was only living up to expectation. He didn't really give a damn about the rest of the people in the world. He just enjoyed the way they treated him when they thought he did. Had to be why he kept giving out money to big charities. Sodding idiot.

It had all been expected. All but the odd sense of guilt Draco felt in the first few months away. He hadn't even worried about returning to school… simply escaped it all to think. About everything. Perhaps it was regret that had him wonder whether or not he could have prevented any of it by acting sooner… But he highly doubted he could have. Not a single teenager. Probably just would have gotten him killed if he'd tried to defy Voldemort so close to his followers. Not even being best friends with Saint Potter would have saved him from that. Thank God. If that had been the answer to it all, he would have done it the same way. In the end, he decided there hadn't been anything he could have done to make Voldemort go away sooner, but that he wasn't blameless either. This was not to say he regretted giving Gryffindors hell… only that he regretted allowing his band of followers to delve right into the Death Eater realm. He'd at least had the power to keep their evils to child's play, and that he considered to be his fall from good graces.

That was where it started. He wanted nothing to do with his Father. He was ecstatic the day he learned he'd been thrown in Azkaban. He wanted to see all of the Death Eater's suffer in Azkaban. Not only that, he wanted them souless in Azkaban. So the answers came to him. Rid the world of petty criminals and Death Eaters, and maybe, just maybe, the guilt of putting some into the world would go away, and he might consider himself worthy of acting a bloody lunatic like Potter. Not that he would want to. Just that he could if he wanted to.

It only took two years, and by the end of five, Draco Malfoy had surpassed his father's wealth and fame without so much as touching a cent of it. He'd proven easily that he didn't need his family, and only then did he return to his Mother. Not only that, but he'd gained himself nearly full financial control of the Ministry of Magic's Aurors, a Private Investigation firm, and the number one ranked law firm in the London wizarding world. Indeed, he'd made all his wealth off of collecting, depositing, and torturing all those who ever made him have to question his moral standing.

Naturally, the Wizarding world looked at him as a great 'changed man' story. The man who went from control by Death Eater's, to making the world a better place by doing his part to rid it of them. Imagine what they'd think if they realized his purposes had nothing to do with making the world a better place, and everything to do with revenge. He was still a Slytherin. There was no doubt about that.

Unfortunately, by this point, he was starting to wonder. All but a handful of former Death Eater's had been locked away, the crime rate had been cut by more than half, and for all intensive purposes, Draco had made the world better, and gotten revenge all at once. Yet he still didn't quite feel he had the right to be happy, and that bothered the hell out of him.

"You wished to see me, Sir?" His assistant asked the moment she'd gotten through his door, looking more than flustered, and rightfully so.

Draco gazed down towards his watch. "Five minutes ago. I believe I did." He replied coldly, crossing his arms before him. Amazingly, he was a fairly easy boss, so long as his employees were punctual, which in his mind, meant fifteen minutes early… if he was going to be an hour early and an hour late coming and going.

"I'm… sorry, Sir… traffic…" She stopped herself soon enough, realizing that excuses were the last thing her boss wished to hear. "What can I do for you, Sir?"

"Leah left a message." He said bluntly, nodding his head towards the phone. "Calling out, again." One of the two paralegals employed directly to Malfoy himself, Leah acted more as if her position were a given due to her appearance, that in all honesty, Draco didn't have the slightest attraction to in the first place. To anyone else, she was likely a bombshell, all legs with a thin frame and delicate face… He didn't care. He saw her as an employee, and a useless one at that. She was quite possibly the worst employee he could have ever hired, and to be honest, he had no idea how she even had her degree, given her apparent lack of brain under blonde bimbo appearance.

"You'd like me to nab one from another department for the day?" The first assistant asked.

"No, Daphne, I'd like you to call the bloody agency and find me a replacement, then I'd like you to return her phone call, and inform her that she can start searching for another job."

"Of course… I'll get right on that." She responded, seeming surprised for reasons Draco didn't understand as she turned and left the room. He stood where he was, glancing back through the glass doors to her desk, where she'd already gotten on the phone. When it came to work ethic, it appeared he'd gotten a nearly perfect assistant, and her polar opposite. Daphne was a slightly more modest red head, with no sort of romantic obsession whatsoever with her boss. She did what he asked, when he asked, and was only late by a few minutes once in a blue moon. Not that he'd praise her, as he knew from experience that praise generally made employees less careful.

Five minutes later, he watched as she put down the phone, walking back to the office.

"I talked to the agency, they don't have anyone with the experience. All they have right now is a few temps, and they say none of them are fitting for the job…" She explained.

Again, Draco glanced at his watch. He really should have called Daphne in earlier to cover for Leah, but he knew her to be busy. With a sigh, he walked around his desk, picking up his suit jacket and throwing it gingerly onto his body.

"I'll go down and see how bleak the situation looks. Even a temp might work. All they need is half a bloody brain to do Leah's job better than she could. I highly doubt they're that lacking in intelligence." He told her, nodding her back to her desk as he exited the building.

As unfortunate as it was, Draco knew that he had to replace the second girl. There was entirely too much paperwork for Daphne to handle on her own, and there was no way in hell he was going to give more than the two extra hours a day that he already gave. He'd done 5 to 6 for the first two years, and he had no intention of returning to that. This, was his motivation for leaving work to physically walk to the agency at the end of the block. He always seemed to have more pull in person, and he suspected today would be no different.

++++Hermione sat as patiently as possible in a chair off to the side of the counter, arms crossed and foot tapping in frustration on the tiled floor beneath her. This had become a common occurrence. It seemed that lately, jobs were being filled, and work through the agency was becoming more and more difficult. They were skill specific, and discriminated as much as they felt, taking into account every aspect of one's private life. Hermione was the 'fallen member' of the Golden Trio to them, and they naturally suspected that it hadn't been her own choosing. For that, they found her less desirable, along with her decision to waste four hours a day volunteering in a run down Orphanage, and the rest of her time as a waitress.

Nonetheless, they always got to her eventually, and she could at least see they were working on something. For the most part. Her frustration mounted however when every single one of the agencies employees suddenly stopped what they were doing to look up and gape. It took only one glance towards the door for Hermione to see what it was that was making them lose control of their jaws, however.

In all honesty, Hermione had not one drop of admiration for the male that had entered the room. As far as she was concerned, Draco Malfoy had been a rich, spoiled brat his entire life, and nothing had changed. Everyone hailed him as the 'defender of good', carrying on Harry's reign and finishing off the Death Eater's, but as far as Hermione was concerned, he had to have a selfish motive. Maybe to keep them from telling every dirty little secret he had.

They followed him into the room as if he were a God, ready to grant his every request, and Hermione easily overheard the conversation. He was looking for a paralegal, and had apparently already been told that they had no suitable candidates. He told them he didn't give a damn if they were a paralegal, just wanted someone with common sense… They told him there were no suitable candidates.

That was enough to make Hermione roll her eyes. She didn't care what they thought about her, to deny her genius was enough to piss her off, whether she wanted Malfoy's dumb job or not. It appeared that she wasn't the only one to notice this fact, as a pair of rather calculating metallic eyes had already begun to sweep the room's occupants, stopping directly on her for a brief moment before turning back to the agents in apparent irritation.

Draco wasn't finding any of this funny. An agency telling them they didn't even have anyone to fit the description of 'common sense'? He glanced the room quickly, eyes falling over a familiar, albeit unwelcome, sight in the corner of the room beside the desks. He glanced back to the agents long enough to make his displeasure apparent, before turning to approach Hermione.

"They tell me you have no one with even half a brain listed as a trait. Should I suspect you're running a business in comparison to your own resume?" He fumed in annoyance, seeming to understand the problem. Obviously, Hermione was their manager. It only made sense. Damn girl would think anyone that couldn't recite every page of 'Hogwarts: A History' was a complete moron. He however, didn't need anyone that precise.

Hermione didn't rise from her seat, but didn't look any less annoyed than he himself with his approach.

"I assure you they would probably know best as to what traits their clients possess, and my resume has nothing to do with it." She spat back at him, sending an equally irate glare in the direction of the agents.

It appeared Draco was giving the Gryffindor entirely too much credit, but he couldn't tell, even despite her rather obvious statement. Perhaps it was simply his inability to see his school mark competitor as a client rather than the boss of the dim agents behind him, so he continued.

"You seem to find this funny, Granger, which I assure you it is not. I have a bloody law firm to run, and have been down a paralegal for the past seven and a half hours. That's not good for my business, and not giving me a replacement when my conditions are so slim is not good for yours." He hissed in retaliation, not in the mood to have this argument in the least.

Finally, the girl stood, bringing herself face to face with her childhood rival. She'd changed quite a bit, which was apparent to Draco, but he couldn't entire place what had changed in his current state, taking into account instead that she still stood a good six inches shorter than himself, making any attempt at intimidation futile.

The agents behind him seemed more confused than anything else, and hadn't made any attempt to step in yet, rather allowing him to attack the female instead of themselves, watching as she rose to meet the verbal advances.

"I don't find it funny at all, Malfoy!" She raged, throwing her arms to her sides in emphasis. "Since you've walked through the damn door, all progress on me having work for the rest of the day has halted, not to mention my being insulted at least twice by these idiots thickness, which, for the record-" She paused, tilting her body to glance around Draco to the agents, "Clearly surpasses mine, but thank you for undermining me nonetheless." Returning to Draco, "And, of course, insulted yet again, by your assumption that I have to be the one in charge of the mob of morons. At the very least, allow me to guarantee, that this hellhole would be run 200% better if I were the head of affairs." And with that, she cursed lightly to herself, throwing her hands up in surrender as she stormed from the office and out the front door without another glanced after the female with shock and confusion etched across his face, attempting to put the pieces of the puzzle together. As much as he disliked Hermione, he had to say he was disliking the finished product of the puzzle a good deal more, and turned back slowly to the agents.

"She was one of your clients?" He asked quietly, though the apparent anger was building in his eyes behind the question and tone.

"Mr. Malfoy, we never said she wasn't…" One of the agents responded quickly.

"You never said she was."

"We didn't think it was relevant, Sir."

Draco couldn't handle it. He didn't like the girl, but he knew damn well what she was. She was the reason he was ranked number two every year at Hogwarts. He hated to admit it, but she was his only intellectual equal, and the implications they were now making were coming across as insulting to himself.

"I asked you for someone capable. That's all. I didn't ask for a degree. I didn't ask for experience. I asked for capable. This could have been settled without me coming down here." He hissed.

The agents looked at each other in confusion which only made him angrier. "Sir, we didn't feel she fit the qualifications… She's a waitress for god's sake."

"I don't give a bloody damn what she is!" He bellowed in their direction, causing them to cower lightly and take a step back. "That witch is the brightest witch of her age, she's the reason you all haven't been hacked apart by death eaters. Without her, Potter would be nothing, and you try to tell me that you don't think she has the capability to do paperwork? She has the capability to do my job if she felt like it!" He shook his head angrily, storming out in much the same way Hermione had moments before.

Hermione stopped on the steps of the building long enough to catch her breath, groaning softly. Didn't wanna work for Malfoy anyway. Slimy little ferret. Of all the nerve.

Of course, it had also become clear to Hermione that she'd have to find a different second job somewhere, especially now that she'd decided she wanted nothing to do with the agency. Maybe pick up some extra hours at the restaurant, though there was no way the pay could cover her. She'd be kicked out of her apartment by the end of the month at this rate.

Finally, she took off down the road, arms folded over her stomach against the cold, laughing softly to herself. Admittedly, while initially offensive, Malfoy's mistake did bump her self-esteem up the slightest bit. Probably more so if she'd actually heard his defense of her, but it didn't make her hate him any less. It was with this thought that she stopped, glancing over her shoulder as she heard her name called behind her.

Well. At least someone knows. I still don't want to work for the prat, though. She mused as she watched the blonde close distance on her.

"Never thought I'd say it, however… I apologize, for actually paying you a compliment in assuming you were too smart to be caught under the tyrannical reign of those spineless bastards." He said pointedly, crossing his arms and glancing down at her. The words emitted from him, but otherwise, he was indifferent to what he'd said, warranting a slow and unforgiving nod from the female.

"Now that I've been made aware of my mistake, and theirs, I think you know I'm forced to ask." He added bluntly, making no attempt of friendly banter or anything of the like, which rather amused Hermione, considering their history.

"Forced to ask your biggest rival to come and save your ass by doing your paperwork? Is that it? Or did you ask for common sense rather than intellect and experience so that you could parade around a pretty new assistant? Perhaps that's why you decided to come down to the office after apparently calling?"

He was clearly annoyed with her assumption, jaw clenching as if to keep from berating her. "I was looking at you as nothing more than a potential employee. If I'd known I could have made a request without settling for simple brain activity, I would have done so. I came to the office because I need the position filled, and frankly, I don't give a damn who fills it, so long as it's not me and my other paralegal, who don't need to have to deal with any more than we already do." The speech was made in a fairly calm tone, apparently trying his hardest to keep his temper confined.

There was no doubt that she needed a damn job… and she wasn't daft, she had to give him some credit for the cleverly stated compliment he paid her. Like her or not, he seemed to at least give her the proper acknowledgement when it came to intellectual abilities.

"What would the hours be?" She questioned carefully. She'd be more suspicious, if she weren't at least aware that he did indeed head a legitimate law firm. Then again, he was probably a dictator when it came to his employees. Hell, the pay would probably be less than her job at the restaurant under that selfish bastard.

"Five days a week, six hours a day. Fifteen paid vacation days, and full benefits." He responded, entirely business.

"You mention paid vacation and benefits. Let me guess. Sweatshop conditions and minimum wage?" It was a sarcastic response, but she rather expected him to say yes.

He frowned slightly, uncrossing his arms to place his hands in the pockets of his slacks, taking a more casual and less business-like stance.

" Forty-seven galleons an hour."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock that she knew she was unable to hide successfully. "Forty-seven galleons an hour? That's… That's Seventy Thousand a year…" she stumbled, realizing that she made three an hour if she was lucky at the restaurant. He no doubt noticed this as well, and it seemed that it was peaking his attention.

Draco watched her expression curiously, unsure of what the hell was happening. First, he was surprised to find that she was a temp, and equally surprised to hear that she was a waitress from the agents… But when they'd said waitress, he at least imagined a fancy, well paying restaurant. Now he was starting to realize the full extent of the situation. The brightest witch of their age, and his intellectual equal, was dirt poor with a shit job. Oddly, he wasn't sure he liked it.

"I see your math's still quick." He pointed out, ignoring her questioning of the number itself.

"I'm sure you mean that's the pay for an experienced paralegal… Hell, I thought that was what an attorney made." She explained, still flustered.

"It is what an experienced paralegal earns…" He responded, becoming more and more frustrated with the unique situation placed in front of him. Wasn't Potter a sodding millionaire? What the hell happened to his path to success? "However, I fail to see why that matters. I think we both know damn well that you're a hell of a lot more capable even without the degree than they are with the degree, the experience, and my firm, that generally pays higher than the others."

His compliments were throwing her off guard, and forcing her doubts it seemed. He still didn't like the girl. At all. He hated her and her friends, but he knew how to keep business and personal life separate. He'd built an empire from nothing, and he knew the key to doing so: The best. He had the best lawyers, the best paralegals… and a good number of the second and third best. Unfortunately, there wasn't a high quantity with 'the best', but as long as he had them, his business was in good shape. Hermione Granger was, in his opinion, the best of the best. He could even deal with seeing her every damn day under the realization that his work would go smoother and more effectively if he had her as well. Hell, he'd pay her more if necessary. He didn't give a damn.

"What… five hours would they be?" She questioned hesitantly.

"The paralegal you'd be replacing worked from 8 am to 2 pm."

Her face seemed to drop instantly for reasons he was unaware of.

"Problem?"

"I… I work other jobs. One from 6 to 10 and one from 10 to 2." She explained, and his mind started to work. The damn sacrifices that were coming to his head were slightly ridiculous to him.

"Which one's more important? First or second? Surely you don't need three jobs with a 70,000 a year salary, but I'll work around one if it'll get me a replacement."

"… The second is…" she replied, flinching slightly. She obviously realized the imposition she was placing on him by choosing her 10-2 job. Whatever the hell it was, it seemed important to her, so he wouldn't argue.

"Work from 8-10 and 2-5. If you could get to the agency by 2:15, you obviously don't work far enough from here to be a problem. We'll work around it."

It was clear to him that he wasn't only shocking himself. She was confused, and possibly threatened by how hard he was pressing, but he had to believe she was smart to understand his rationale. She was good for business.

After a long pause, she gave a nod of hesitant admission to his requests, waiting for him to give her any other details she'd need.

"Good. You'll start in the morning." He explained, pulling a business card from his breast pocket to hand to her. "The address is on the card. Once you're within the offices, it's not hard to find. Be there by 8." Pulling his opposite hand from his slacks, he uncovered a hand of galleons, knocking them around to find that there were 21 and some sickles, shrugging and grabbing her hand, dropping them into it. "You can use that for clothes. I'm not going to expect you to use your own money, but I do expect you to look like you belong in a law firm. I think that's fair, considering it's the only expectation I've given you. Agreed?"

She was busy blinking down at her palm full of coins, nodding slowly. Clearly, his newest assistant was in shock.

"Are you feeling alright? Do I need to accompany you to Madame Mulkin's as well? Or can you handle that?" There came the frustration. It was only a matter of time. After all, he was offering her what anyone would want. In all honesty, he'd originally planned on hiring a dimwit for the position for 30,000. It was because it was Hermione that he was offering her a full pay. Now she was acting like she'd been hit by a damn train.

Luckily, she shook herself out of it a few moments later, allowing a sigh of relief to pass from his lips.

"I can handle it just fine." She hissed slightly, causing him to smirk.

"Don't get me wrong, I still don't like you, Granger. But I do realize that you're an asset. You'll get treated the same way as any other employee during work hours, unless you pull out any of the snide remarks. As for off duty… Don't get yourself killed, as that would be no benefit to me. Beyond that, I could care less."

These simple words seemed to put her at ease and he was able to make his way back to his office, glancing over his shoulder just long enough to see her walk directly to Madame Mulkin's. At least he knew she'd do what he asked. She was still too good of a person to spend his money on anything else, though he was still trying to figure out what was actually different about her, except the shit jobs and lack of money. He'd assumed that's how mud bloods were anyway.