I do not own Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling does.

Chapter I

Hermione

"A surprising, yet hoped for, presence graced my office today to apply for employment. She is a very beautiful woman, and though simply dressed, exuded warmth and intelligence, a breath of fresh air from the pureblood witches I too frequently encounter who have non-existent brains and grace. I proceeded to acquaint myself with her, offend her, and hire her in the course of one half hour. Her name is Hermione Granger, Brightest Witch of Our Age, One-third and Brains of the Golden Trio, and she still has the trademark bushy wild hair."

"There is a curious chemistry between us."

DRACO MALFOY'S DIARY. DECEMEBER 17, 2002

The smell of hot chocolate and burnt coffee beans is in the morning air as witches and wizards hustle through the busy streets of Diagon Alley. Two blocks away from Gringotts, Hermione Granger glanced across the snow-covered road and crossed the street looking down on her feet the whole time, avoiding the stares of people who recognize her. When she reached her destination, she glanced up at the building's doorway. Above it is a mark in an arched, gold-leafed letters: MALFOY INC. MAIN OFFICE.

With a deep sigh, she entered the building. As she pulled the door shut behind her, the chill of winter outside was immediately dissolved by the warmth of the place. Brushing the snow from her shoulders, she glanced around the large lobby.

Its high ceiling was upheld by large marble Corinthian columns all which are fused through the walls of the building except for two that stood proudly opposite each other in the middle of the lobby like two towering guards welcoming the employees and guests of the company. There are three fireplaces for flooing on one side and three apparition rooms on the other.

The receptionist desk lined the wall across the entrance of the building manned by two young witches in black and white robes. There are two small gates on either side of the desk which will lead to a short hallway where elevators are found. These gates are guarded each by wizards in black robes checking the employees' i.d. and visitors' pass, both are gold metal plates with engravings, for the former, their name and position in the company and for the latter, the word 'visitor' and purpose of visit.

Hermione approached one of the receptionists. She was a black-haired witch, round face and a very warm scowl. In her metal plate was her name 'Liza Park' and below it was the word 'receptionist'. Obviously.

"I am here to see Mr. Malfoy about the secretarial vacancy advertised in The Prophet yesterday," Hermione announced. She removed the scarf from her head and stuffed it inside her bag, revealing a gentle complexion, high shapely cheekbones, and a bushy brown hair. She was wearing a white button-up shirt, navy blue skirt and open-toed high heels. Her beauty piqued the receptionist's interest, not recognizing who she is.

"Do you have an appointment with Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes. He is expecting me at nine. I am a few minutes early."

Without an explanation, the receptionist left her and went to a fireplace on the wall behind the receptionist desk and firecalled somebody. A few minutes later, a familiar face approached her from the small gate on the right. It was Blaise Zabini. She easily recognized the Italian man because of his tanned skin, plus the fact that he was one of her tormentors in Hogwarts. Hermione had to admit that the Zabini has turned into an incredibly gorgeous man, a far cry from the skinny and brooding Slytherin boy in school. Not that he was her type, but it would not hurt to appreciate beauty from time to time. He carried himself casually, yet with confidence that speaks his importance with the firm.

"Hermione Granger?" he said that with a look of surprise with a hint of appreciation.

"Yes, it's me. Mr. Blaise Zabini," extending her hand towards him. It was surprising that she found it easy to be civil with the man.

Blaise shook her hand. "It's Blaise to you. Thank you for coming though I must admit I was surprised when I received your application yesterday. Secretarial work for the Brightest Witch of Our Age? You are overqualified for this job, I tell you."

During the Final Battle, Harry Potter was able to kill Voldemort for real. No more horcruxes remain, no more Dark Lord. The number of the Death Eaters diminished greatly, many of them died in the battle, but most of them switched their sides the moment they saw weakness from the Dark Lord. It would have been a celebration for the Light Side, had not been Harry killed by the deranged Rodolphus Lestrange. The Death Eater started sending Avadas all over the place when he saw his wife lifeless on Hogwarts grounds. Unfortunately, Harry was one of the receiving ends of his Unforgivables. Certainly Voldemort had rewarded Rodolphus in Hell for what he had done.

Immediately after the war, the Wizarding World faced a great problem of restoration and rebuilding. So, Restore and Rebuild they did. Rebuild and Restore the old caste of Wizarding Society, they did. The remaining pureblood families once again claimed their hold on authority, influence and power. Purebloods were still at the top of the social ladder and muggle-borns were at the bottom. Since these pureblood families regained their control of the Ministry and of the Largest Companies, muggle-borns had very hard-time acquiring decent positions in them.

Hermione felt the tears welling in her eyes so she took a deep breath to prevent it from falling and just gave Blaise a sad smile. Her title as the Brightest Witch of Her Age doesn't mean anything anymore seven years after the Second Wizarding War.

These same thoughts were running inside Blaise's head. Though he does not believe on the Pureblood Supremacy idea anymore, the others still stubbornly cling to it. He returned the same sad smile to Hermione. "Right, If you will please follow me," he said, motioning to the gate he had just emerged from. Hermione followed him through it, then to one of the elevator. He pressed a button which she believed will lead to Malfoy's office. When they stepped out of the elevator they were greeted by a small lobby, there's a receiving area adorned by chairs and a glass coffee table facing a fireplace on the wall. There is a Maplewood desk, a swivel chair behind it, on one side of the whole receiving room. Her eyebrows rose on the sight of desktop computer perched on the table but chose not to comment on it. There were two file cabinets on left of the table and another door on the right.

Blaise proceeded to the door but Hermione stopped him before they reached it.

"Uhm. Blaise, can I ask you first a question…?"

He turned and faced her. "Yes. Of course."

"When I address Malfoy, shall I call him 'Mr. Malfoy' or 'sir'?"

The Italian considered the question. "He likes to be called 'Your Majesty'"

Hermione was dumbstruck. Her eyebrows furrowed in disbelief and consideration.

"I am just joking, Hermione. Can I call you that?" When she nodded at his request, he continued, "I don't suppose it matters at all what you call him. You can actually call him 'ferret' or 'git' if you want, but make sure to call me when you do that." He laughed after that.

Hermione can't help but smile at his remark. Then turning serious, "I am not seeking to flatter him; I think you know enough of me to believe that that is not what my goal is. We have quite a history of animosity. I really need this job and I hope to make a favorable impression."

Blaise smiled slyly and said, "I am certain you will do just that."

"And will you please tell me why?" she asked confused.

"Because you are Hermione Granger, the 'Brightest Witch of Our Age', the 'Brain of the Golden Trio', the 'Gryffindor Princess'. You are beautiful, brave, and most of all, intelligent."

She blushed at that, still not used being referred to as such, but tried to cover it by rolling her eyes, "As if that matters to him, as if that's how he sees me…"

"And he has this long-time 'crush' on you," he said while wiggling his eyebrows at her.

"Uhmmm…" Hermione turned a shade brighter of crimson with that and Blaise chuckled. "I am sorry Hermione, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable but what I said is true. I just want you to relax and believe in yourself."

Hermione smiled at this while Blaise turned to the door and knocked. "Draco…" he called. A voice said let her in from the other side of the door. Blaise faced him and said, "You can come inside. He's all yours." Hermione shook her head at Blaise teasing.

She entered and closed the door behind her. The office was large and the cherrywood cabinets and shelves that lined the wall were cluttered with books and a number of mantel clock which were used as bookend and displays. In addition to that, at most a dozen of other clocks – freestanding clocks or wall clocks – decorated the room as well. Hermione has never seen such number of timepieces except in a clock-shop. They ticked loudly and she wondered how anyone could think in such place.

In the center of the room was a beautiful hand-carved mahogany desk with a gold-embossed leather writing surface dyed in reach green and umber hues. Hermione can see an open laptop on top on it which only increased her previous curiosity as to why Draco Malfoy is using muggle technology. Leaning in front of the desk stood Draco Malfoy, hands in his pockets, dressed impeccably in a dark blue polo, black pants, and black leather shoes. His blonde hair slightly fell into his eyes instead of being slicked back the way it had when he was younger.

Upon seeing Hermione, he pushed away from the desk and approached her. "May I help you with that coat?" Draco offered, helping to slip the wet garment from her shoulders.

The moment Hermione entered his office; time seemed to stop for Draco. It has been years since he saw her. Five Years, three months, fifteen days to be exact. The last time he saw her was at Flourish and Bolts where she worked as a clerk. After that, he only got information about her through the Prophet. The last time he had news about her was when the paper reported about her break-up with the other remaining member of the Golden Trio, red-hair Quidditch extraordinaire, Ronald Weasley. Apparently the Weasel found a relationship with a beach-blonde pureblood tramp far more 'appropriate' and 'socially-accepted'. He always knew that Ronald Weasley is a stupid jerk, this only proved his claim. Two months after that issue, she disappeared from the Wizarding London, nobody heard of Hermione Granger again after that.

Now, there she was, standing in his office in her modest blouse and skirt. She still wasn't able to tame her wild curls. Yet, Draco can't help but appreciate her beauty. He wondered how it was possible that someone so beautiful before becomes more beautiful. She is a goddess, he thought. The Witch of Her Dreams is here in front of him looking far more exquisite than he had imagined her to be. He fought so hard the strong desire to envelop her in his arms and shower her face with kisses.

"Thank You."

Hermione settled into a wooden chair near the desk, straighten her skirt and rest her hands in her lap, while Draco went to sit to his chair behind the desk.

"You have many clocks," she observed.

Then he did something that surprised Hermione Granger and definitely took her breath away, Draco Malfoy smiled. Not the trademark Malfoy smirk that bodes mischief and evilness, but a genuine warm smile. "I collect them. At the top of the hour, there is quite a racket."

Hermione smiled. "I would think so."

Looking at Draco Malfoy, Hermione realized that he had changed a lot. He was not the lanky, self-conceited boy who used to torment her and her friends anymore. There was something in his presence that suggests warmth and kindness. Though serious and indifferent must be his default demeanor, she can sense the goodness in him. Physically, he was a sight to behold. He was taller than the last time she had seen him, which was three or four years ago, and definitely his body filled out enough. His paleness and blond hair was still the same from what she can remember. And his eyes, those stormy grey eyes. The hate that filled his eyes during their Hogwarts year was now replaced by kindness and…affection?

She shook her head to push away the ridiculous ideas in it and mentally cursed Blaise for giving her the idea that Malfoy holds some kind of torch for her all these years. Luckily, Draco started to question her as he read her resume. "Your resume says that you've stayed in Wizarding Australia for the last three years, is that correct?"

She nodded.

"Why go to Australia?"

"Well, you see, before the war I have obliviated my parents and sent them to Australia to protect them from it, planning to bring them back here when peace is restored. But after everything that happened, during and after the war," she paused and look at Draco then continued, "I found no desire to remain here anymore. I just wanted to finish my seventh year in Hogwarts and leave London. If not for Ronald, I would have left the moment I received my diploma. But stayed I did because of him, then the blond superstar happened and I had no more excuse to stay here."

She spoke with too much indifference that any other person hearing her explanation would have said that she's not hurt of what happened. But Draco, as the master of indifference, saw through her façade and knew that she was still hurting for it.

Her tone became light when she spoke again, "I went to Australia mainly to look for my parents. When I found them, I returned their memories but they insisted to stay there for they had grown fond of the country. I thought it was a good idea because Wizarding Australia is relatively small, thus inconspicuous, and their wizarding press was not as vicious as the ones here. So I stayed there and started to rebuild my life with my family."

"Why come back to London though? Don't you find Australia to your liking?"

Hermione turned somber with her next words, "My mother was not of good health when I found them in Australia. It worsened when I returned their memories, her body did not respond well to my magic. She died three and a half years after our reunion. My father on the other hand started to weaken after my mother left us. He lost his vigor and strength. He followed her a year after. I tried to stay there for another year but the memories of them are so fresh that I needed to stay away from them to ease the pain."

Draco sensed her uneasiness on the topics so he changed the direction of his questions. "Your resume says you are skilled in secretarial work as well as in keeping financial ledgers."

Thankful for the change of topic she smiled before answering. "Yes. I have a three years' experience as a secretary and a year or so on handling the finances of a company. I'm able to work under pressure and can multi-task. I am willing to work overtime if necessary," she replied, pointing to the one on top of his desk. "Also, I am quite adept in using computers, desktop or laptop alike." Then looking up at a row of clocks, she added, "And I am very punctual."

Draco smiled at her reference to the clocks. There is the Hermione he knew and loved, quick-witted and confident. Oh Merlin, how much he missed her so.

Hermione reached into her purse and brought out a bundle of letters. "I brought letters."

Draco accepted them. "Where have you worked previously, Granger?"

"Flourish and Bolts as a clerk, before I left London. I worked at Waldo and Sons Inc., an Australian Quidditch supplies company, as Mr. Waldo's assistant. When he took ill, I was given leave. He passed on shortly afterward. Then I went to work at Balker's clothing store. I was in charge in typing invoices, recording receipts, and helping Mr. Balker check his books every end of the week. The shop closed on account of the death of Mr. Balker."

"This is not a good sign, Granger. Do all your employers release you through such a gloomy way?" He can't help but tease the witch in front of him.

"I prefer to think that they would rather die than release me."

Draco smiled again at her quick reply. "So it would seem. How much does your position pay?"

She swallowed rather audibly at the mention of money. "I require two hundred and fifty galleons a month."

Draco looked back down at her letters. "You were only two weeks at your last employment." He paused, waiting for a response.

She hesitated. "I could not meet my supervisor's expectations."

He was surprised by her honesty, his eyebrow rose at this. "Exactly what is it that the Hermione Granger had a difficulty on undertaking?" He asked with a mocking tone. He leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head.

Hermione glared back, certain that she had been offended. "I would rather not say," she answered in a clipped tone. In the back of her mind she was slightly relieved at his behavior. This is the Draco Malfoy she knew, annoying and terrible. She thought that she'd prefer this Malfoy over the kind and gentle one. She certainly wouldn't know how to react to a nice Draco Malfoy.

Draco grinned. "Well, I can understand your hesitation since you are know-it-all; you must have truly believed that you can do everything," he drawled, just enjoying teasing her. "Apparently not."

"You're insulting me!"

Draco waved a hand. "No. No. I am merely enjoying watching you fume. You get annoy too easily."

Hermione sat back, her arms folded defensively across her chest. "That's not true. I'm not."

"You do. Look at you now."

Hermione glowered at him, and then suddenly stood up, brushing down her skirt as she rose. "I think I shall go now, Mr. Malfoy." Contradicting her earlier thoughts, she suddenly wished that the good Malfoy is back. She certainly needs a job but enduring a daily encounter with this infuriating man will certainly push her to limit.

Her response surprised him. He mentally kicked himself for crossing the line. If he wanted to get on her good side and have her relaxed around him, he should reduce his teasing. The smile on Draco's face turned into a frown. He only meant to humor her; apparently Hermione was not in the mood for that.

"I have offended you."

"Not in the least," she replied indignantly, raising her chin slightly.

"No. I have. I am sorry. Please don't go."

His apology surprised her more than anything else, a big proof that he had changed. His doubts about him waned with how he sincerely said his sorry. She could not believe her ears on what she heard but decided to keep her mouth shut about it.

Draco returning to his serious demeanor, returned to his earlier question, "I must insist though, you must tell me because if I am to hire you in good faith, it is important for me to know what your limitations are."

She fought the smile threatening her lips at his poor attempt to humor her but she relented. "Yes." She turned towards her interrogator and took a deep breath. "Sitting on his lap."

Draco cocked his head. Hermione blushed. "Sitting on his lap," she repeated. "My supervisor wants me to sit on his lap."

"Oh," Draco replied. Then after a few seconds of silence between them, he added, "You will find none of that in this office. I am really sorry, Granger. I did not mean to be offensive and insensitive. You can blame it to my upbringing as a Malfoy and a pureblood. Surely you cannot resent me of that."

"Pity you, perhaps."

"Touché," David said, grinning.

She retrieved her coat from the pole and put it on. Draco walked over to the door. "Hermione, I should like us to work together. I will pay you five hundred galleons a month. If you choose to accept, you may begin immediately."

Hermione had a hard time processing what he just said. First, he used her first name and said it with such gentleness she would never believe Draco Malfoy possesses. Second, he'll pay her Five-freakin'-hundred galleons a week? She badly needs money but that is just too much. Not knowing what to say, she lifted her chin proudly, still with an air of indignation. "I will see you Monday morning at five minutes to eight, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco grinned. "It will be a pleasure, Ms. Granger."

To be continued…

Yay! My first one ever. :)Hope you enjoy this one. Please feel free to rate and review. I'm new here so help me out, please. If there's anything you want to comment on, come on come on. I'm not picky and sensitive. Someone said that a bad publicity is still publicity. I say, a negative review is still a review. But go easy on me. :) Thank youuuuu!