Disclaimer

I do not own Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy or Blaise Zabini.

No Blondes Allowed

Hermione Granger did not like what she was hearing. But she knew that at the end of the present argument she was having with her father, she was going to have to give in. He was past his prime and his body looked susceptible to his poor health – she did not want to upset him any further.

So she sighed. "All right, Dad. I'll go pack my bags."

Draco Malfoy tilted his head in pleasure.

His good friend, Blaise Zabini, shook his head. "Draco," he said, while pulling away the bottle of liquor that Draco was drinking.

"Come on, it's three in the morning. Don't you have work tomorrow? Or as a matter of fact, today?"

Draco pushed Blaise's hand away. "Shut up, Mum."

Rolling his eyes, Blaise forcefully pried the bottle away from Draco's long fingers and got him out of the club and into the taxi.

In the cab, he looked over at Draco and once again felt hatred arise within him. How could she have done this to him?

"Morning, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco's head hurt like mad. But he tried not to show it, as he merely nodded his head and walked briskly past the pretty receptionist. He tried recalling her name, but it was to no avail, although he did remember ever dating her once. Maybe that explained the longing look in her eyes.

Draco never dated a woman for long. His record was 2 weeks and that was because he was in Denmark on a business trip and was so busy that he had forgotten to call her to break the whole thing off.

Damn you, Eva.

She was someone he loved and cared for more than any other woman in his life, even his mother, whom he hated. He hated both his parents, whom derived pleasure from maintaining their social status by living behind masks and disguises. They never did care for him and even though they both had affairs 

behind each other's back, they pretended not to notice as a divorce would probably ruin their lives and it could even affect the stock prices of his father's oil company.

And despite his indifference towards his parents, here he was, sitting at the mahogany desk of his office, behind the title of 'Managing Director'. The title was given to him since birth but he did not hate the job, which made it all the more ironic. The only thing he hated was that it brought him to Eva.

Eva…

"Mr. Malfoy? Mr. Malfoy?" His secretary interrupted his thoughts.

He cleared his throat. "Yes?"

"This is the letter you asked for."

He took the letter over from her and glanced at the envelope which said 'Resignation Letter'.

"You're resigning?"

"Yes. I'm going to move to Tucson next week to get married, didn't I tell you?"

Draco vaguely remembered and nodded.

His secretary smiled before turning to leave. At the door she turned back.

"Oh, by the way, I'll be interviewing and selecting potential candidates to be your secretary. Anything that I should look out for?"

"No blondes." It seemed like a joke, yet Draco was serious.

She smiled. "You have a message from Georgina, asking you to call her back," she said, even though she knew that he probably wouldn't call her.

As she walked away, she thought to herself, that poor thing - he never got over her.

Hermione looked around at the dingy apartment that she had managed to rent for a lower rate than the rest. This was London, not Canterbury, where she came from.

London – somewhere Hermione had always wanted to go but had no money. Her mother always told her to do the things that she liked, no matter what other people said. She forgot to mention that money played a great part in doing whatever she liked.

But now that Hermione had used most of her savings to come to London and to pay the deposit of three months' rent in this small apartment, Hermione had to remind herself again why she had wanted to come here in the first place.



She knew why she had to come, though. It was to earn enough money for her dad's e heart bypass operation. It was a major one and it would be too expensive for her job at the little bookshop in town could support. So she quit the job and left Canterbury to come to London.

In the next hour, she found herself sitting at the reception area and staring at the receptionist. She is so pretty, Hermione thought. Red hair cropped at the base of her neck and stunning blue eyes to match that face, the receptionist looked so pretty that Hermione wondered if all the girls in the building (or the whole of London) looked like that. Suddenly, she felt even dowdier in her white suit, something that she had bought back home. It had cost a bomb, but comparing that to what the receptionist wore, she felt that she did not belong there.

"Mr. Kelinsky will be right with you," the receptionist had said. But it has been half an hour and still no word of him.

"Miss Granger? You may go to his office now. Just turn right and at the end of the hallway."

Hermione made her way to the end and knocked on the door.

"Come in," a deep voice sounded from behind the door.

Hermione opened the door and found herself looking at a distinguished looking man. He was clean-shaven and every inch of his posture and voice exuded confidence.

But he was not as confident as he looked or sounded.

That morning, the CEO of the company had lashed out at him. "How the hell did they get ahead of us again?!"

They had previously submitted a contracting bid for one of the largest shipping firms in America and had lost by only a few thousand dollars.

"Why is it that they manage to bid lower than us by a measly amount and get the contracts? This is the fifth time it has happened!"

Before he could reply, the CEO glared at him. "There is an insider on this. Make sure this doesn't happen again. And I don't care how you do it!" That meant, get rid of the insider, or else.

Mr. Kelinsky's thoughts snapped back to the present. He flipped through Hermione's resume far too quickly. Nothing much, he thought.

He was about to thank her for coming down when he realized that she really was quite pretty, yet not in the London kind of way. She had full lips and honey brown eyes that matched perfectly with her chestnut-brown hair that reached her shoulders. Her nose gave her a distinguished look and gave people the impression that she is not one to back down easily in a challenge without a fight.

"You're from…"



"Canterbury, sir."

Mr. Kelinsky had a fantastic idea. Now, all he had to do was to convince her to do it and he knew just the right way.

He smiled. "Please, call me Michael."

Hermione walked out of the office door with messed up thoughts in her head.

What am I doing? She asked herself.

She had just accepted an offer to spy for Mr. Kelinsky – to spy on Malfoy Enterprises, another rival oil company.

Michael had made it sound so easy. "You are not spying on them - you will be spying for me."

He had offered her a salary that could pay for her dad's surgery in three months, if she scrimped and saved. All she had to do was to apply for the secretarial position over there and if she did not get it, he would still hire her and pay her the amount he had promised. If she did get it and if the salary they offered was lower than promised, he would reimburse her the amount.

It had sounded so tempting at the moment that she couldn't resist. So she accepted.

"Great," he said. "Here's a list of the six other people on the bidding team. Just look out for their names and inform me. That's all you have to do."

Hermione instantly regretted, but she knew that she had not much of a choice. She called her dad and told him the good news though she left out the part on the spying. He was elated at the news of her getting a job and he sounded so glad and happy that Hermione didn't have the heart to turn back and reject the offer.

Michael had said that he would call the human resources personnel at Malfoy Enterprises and pull a personal favour for her.

Now all she had to do was to march down a few blocks and attend a secretarial interview.

No turning back, Hermione. No turning back.

"Miss Granger?"

"Yes?" Hermione looked up to see another pretty face. They're all so darn pretty!

"Hi, I'm Jenny, the current secretary," she said, extending a hand.



"Come along, I'll bring you to the conference room."

The room looked as big as her living room and the red carpets made Hermione feel like a movie star. Jenny's smile warmed the room and Hermione reeled from the guilt she was feeling.

"So… Miss Granger. You graduated from the University of Kent with a degree in English Language and you're a scholar." Jenny hesitated. "Maybe you might be a little too qualified for this job. You do know what job you're applying for, right?" she joked with a wink.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "Yes, I do. But I don't think I'm overqualified. I don't have the necessary secretarial experience and I'm glad that I've been offered a chance to learn."

Jenny smiled. She liked the girl immensely and this was by far the best interview she had had all day. She had made up all sorts of reasons to reject those who with blond hair and the rest had horrendous attitudes. Some of them only applied because they knew who they would be working for.

"Do you know who you'll be working for?" Jenny tested.

"No, not really." Hermione shook her head and was sincere about not knowing. Michael hadn't told her who she'd be working for. All she knew was that she had to pay attention should any of the names in the list that he gave her pop out in any conversations.

Finally. I've found her, Jenny thought.

"All right, can you start work next Monday?"

Hermione tried not to express her shock. "I- Yes."

"Good. Fill up these papers and I'll see you next Monday."

And as she walked past the corridor carrying her guilt along with her, she couldn't help but notice a strange phenomenon.

All the girls working on that floor were either redheads or brunettes like herself.

There were no blondes.

A/N: Please read & review!