Chapter One

Hermione Granger hurried down the hall, clutching a stack of files to her chest, her frizzy hair crackling with nervous energy and a bit of magic. The Ministry of Magic was in an uproar; after the fall of Voldemort- most still referred to him as You Know Who, but she didn't have the patience for such things- the government had been left in shambles and everyone was in a hurry to keep up.

Five years later, and things were still a mess. Hermione herself could attest to that as she pushed through the fifth floor of the Investigation Department towards the office of one of the worst men she'd ever had the displeasure of working with.

Draco Malfoy.

While the last five years had done wonders for his appearance- even she had to admit that he was attractive- he was still a slimy git, no matter how childish the thought made her.

She turned the corner and nearly ran right into Percy Weasley as he was exiting an elevator. "Oh! Miss Granger!" he exclaimed, moving to grab the papers that fluttered out of her arms, "My apologies."

"You really should watch where you're going, Percy," Hermione said with a kind- yet frustrated- smile. She took the papers he pushed towards her, saying, "and I understand we're at work, but just call me Hermione."

He gave her an awkward smile. "Still working on the Warren case?"

"I not at liberty to discuss it," she shuffled the papers so that they were a little more orderly, "but I'm sure that if you ask Harry, he'll tell you what he can."

Percy nodded, pushing his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. "Of course. Well it was good to see you- really- but I'm late for a meeting with the minister."

"Well I'll be seeing you sunday then," she said with a smile. "Give my love to the girls."

They parted and she continued down the hall towards Malfoy's office, her heels clicking along the floor. "Granger!"

She froze. Speak of the devil…. She turned to find him storming down the hall, his gray eyes dark and intent on her face. She threw her shoulders back and lifted her chin. "Malfoy," she said icily.

He strode past her, yanking open the door the door to his office, impatiently waving her inside. She huffed and hurried in, dropping the files atop his desk, falling into the chair. Malfoy took a seat and eyed her. "What?" She snapped. He continued to stare at her for a long moment.

"You were supposed to be here at noon," he finally drawled. "It's a quarter past."

"The files you wanted took longer than expected," she glared at him as she started to spread them out.

The only response he gave was a bored "Hm," as he reached forward and took one. He flipped through it and she eyed him for a moment as his eyes scanned the file. He no longer wore his hair gelled back- as he had in school- but let the white locks fall softly against his forehead. He was wearing a dark suit beneath his robes, the contrast with his pale skin not….unpleasant.

She reached for a file before he could catch her analysing him. "Another body was found last night," she said, causing his head to snap up. "The Aurors haven't released any information to the press yet- they don't want to cause panic- but what information I've been giving is… unsettling, to say the least."

He reached forward, snatching the file from her hands, skimming the contents while she scowled at him. "Quite," he agreed. "Have you found any similarities between the victims?"

"All female, young, unattached" she started, then added hesitantly, "all muggleborn."

He leaned back in his chair, setting the file down, his lips pressed into a harsh, flat line. "What is it you're implying?"

She rolled her eyes, "I'm not implying anything, Malfoy. I'm stating the similarities, as you asked me to."

"You believe this to be a hate crime?"

"I never said that," she snapped.

"And yet, that's what you believe it to be?"

Hermione glanced down at the file in front of her. "Look at the facts, Malfoy," she said with a sigh. "The girls are found tortured from the cruciatus, throats cut, wands broken into pieces around them. The murders are violent- obviously- but the shattered wands? Combined with the muggleborn heritage? I just...have a feeling about this."

"You have a feeling," he drawled, twirling his own wand in his fingers.

"Oh sod off," she snapped, "You know I have a point."

She'd only met with him once before, but she'd expected the long, quiet stare that he'd fixed on her face. She wasn't as uncomfortable as she'd been the last time. She squared her shoulders and met his gaze head on. His lips twitched, as if he was suppressing a smile.

"It's an excellent theory," he finally responded. "I expect you have notes on this?"

Smiling smugly, Hermione shuffled some papers about before finding the right ones and pushing them towards him. He took them, looking amused, eyes scanning the lines. He was a quick reader, like herself, so she didn't have to wait long for his thoughts.

"And you don't suppose it could just be some wanker preying on young woman who tend to walk alone at night?"

"Some wanker that just happens to pick three muggleborn witches at random?" he grinned at the use of her dirty word. She ignored him. "Practically impossible."

He glanced down at the stacks of paper littering his desk. "I'm warning you Granger," he started, "if we spend all of our time investigating this as a hate crime and you turn out to be wrong, we're going to have problems."

"We already have problems," she waved him off, "but I'm confident in this."

"Well," his customary smirk was back, "we best get started on your theory."

Eight hours later, Hermione kicked open the door to her flat, dropping her bag of files to the ground. Toeing off her heels, she shuffled towards her kitchen, determined to make a cup of tea and go through the files once more. On her own.

Malfoy was a nuisance. A brilliant nuisance, but one all the same. His notes were insightful, but his commentary unwelcome. After a few hours of silence with the occasional question, he'd grown bored and started to bait her into a conversation. His comments on her frizzy curls had been particularly unwelcome.

It wouldn't bother her so much if his hair hadn't been so bloody immaculate.

There was a loud mewling at her feet and Crookshanks circled her, blinking his round eyes up at her, expectant. Sighing, she crouched down and scooped him into her arms. "Missed me, did you?" she said fondly. She scratched him behind the years as she reached for her wand, muttering one of the only cooking charms she knew, watching as her favorite cup flew from the cupboard. She took a seat at her little table, waiting as her tea was made just as she liked it. Crookshanks settled on her lap and she twisted her hair into a knot on her head before summoning her bag.

Once she had her files spread in front of her and her steaming cup next to her, she settled in for a long night.