Essentially, this is a unbeta'd cliche fanfic story. You've have been warned. Rated T for some explicit language and sexual references. How Much Does Your Love Cost? Is a song by Thelma Plum but this fic has nothing in common with it, but it's pretty stellar song tbh.
Disclaimer: All characters and anything related to Harry Potter in here belong to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, etc.
Draco Malfoy takes too much pride in being an asshole.
That however is only partially the reason why Hermione is having tea with his mother.
Mrs. Malfoy promptly orders Earl Grey.
"I'm famished as well," she states.
Within seconds, a server arrives with a tray of scones, sandwiches, and petit fours. Hermione's mouth starts salivating at the sight of food. She waits impatiently for the server to pour their tea. The fine china and crystal together probably costs more than her monthly living expenses. Finally, the older woman takes a delicate sip from her cup. The brunette devours a cucumber sandwich and two scones with a heavy dollop of lemon curd. Narcissa looks at her critically. Hermione can tell she's meticulously cataloging all of her faults.
1. Lackluster hair
2. Bright albeit too outspoken
3. Apparent lack of good breeding
...and the list goes on.
"You are well acquainted with my son, Miss Granger?"
She snaps out of her reverie.
"Um," she replies. "Yes."
Narcissa raises a single perfect blonde brow.
Draco Malfoy
Age: 24
CEO of MALFOY INC.
Former Slytherin and school bully extraodinaire
"May I speak frankly, Miss Granger?"
This time she doesn't wait for her to respond.
"I'd like to request your business services in order to match my son with Astoria Greengrass."
She nearly spits out her tea. "Merlin's beard! What makes you think he'll agree to that?"
"He spoke of you often in his letters. Granted, they were not exactly flattering descriptions but clearly you got through to him somehow."
Somehow she refrains from expressing her outright disbelief.
"Funny, I always had the impression that Mal—I mean your son—was more vocal about his opinions of Harry."
Mrs. Malfoy sniffs with an almost disdainful look. Hermione's knows that look. It's the kind of expression that rich brat wore during her earlier school years.
"Yes, well that was before," she says with a dismissive wave of her hand.
What she means is that was before Voldemort or rather Tom Riddle's final downfall. Before Hermione returned to Hogwarts for her final year along with a handful of others including Draco Malfoy. They were not Head Boy and Head Girl since those positions were reserved for seventh years, instead they were recruited to become what Hermione had deemed as 'Glorified Resident Advisers'. Their first few weeks were tense with understandably underlying hostility on her end. She had been tortured in his Manor by his psychotic aunt. She'd always have the scar on her throat as a reminder.
It was hard to not feel resentful. She was a Gryffindor, but by no means a saint.
Then one Sunday as she took an early morning stroll not too far from the Black Lake, she spotted him standing by the lake shore with his face towards the sunrise. She could see from a distance how pathetic and lonely and small he really was in the scope of all the shit they'd been through. Hermione knew she had to come to terms with the fact that Malfoy had no control over what Voldemort did in his childhood home or the chaos Bellatrix unleashed on her victims. For the rest of school year, they held a tenuous truce.
Now she's here, in a fancy tearoom with his mother discussing his future engagement to Miss Astoria Greengrass. She's inwardly dying to tell Harry and Ron because their heads would surely roll, but she can't thanks to client confidentiality.
"I'm willing to pay at least twice the standard fee," Narcissa insists.
Well of course she can pay twice her standard matchmaking fee. And of course Narcissa knows if Hermione can pull this off then her company's reputation will skyrocket and bring in more elite clients.
It's just business nothing personal.
Hermione summons a nondescript black notebook and a charmed pen.
"I'll see what I can do."