A/N: Just something that came into my head, and so I wrote it down. I might turn this into a full-length story, but it'll go slow because of my others FF's. It might only be a couple chapters, I dunno. We'll see. Tell me what you think!

Sweeter Than Heaven, Hotter Than Hell

Ch. 1 – Disguise-and-Befriend

A good seven years after the war, Draco Malfoy had resorted to what his father would have a hernia over – living as a Muggle . . . Okay, so maybe he'd use a little Wingardium Leviosa when he didn't want to get the remote, but for the most part, he'd taken to retiring of sorts from the pressures of the postwar Wizarding World.

He did find that in many ways, the Muggle life was much simpler. He never really realized how difficult some of the little things wizards did with magic were – like actually making food. And taking out the trash. And cleaning your living space. And actually getting things yourself.

It was tough.

Especially in the beginning, Draco had no idea what he was thinking. He almost gave up – but then his neighbor, Ms. Mulberry, came over for a visit, and he decided he couldn't leave. Ms. Mulberry was eighty-five years old, and refused to go into a retirement home. All of her family was dead, which Draco could semi-relate to, but she still had the kindest heart Draco had ever come across. She'd lost her husband in World War II, and prayed to him every night. She dressed like she was going out every day, but she never did; she came over to Draco's for tea often though, and vice versa. No matter how unpractical and horrific he'd thought the Muggle world was in the beginning, he couldn't bring himself to leave Ms. Mulberry, being her only confidant, even if he couldn't admit it.

So, he'd acquired a job at the local diner – called the Diner; they were very original – and planned on putting the war, Hogwarts, and Harry bloody Potter behind him. And that's precisely what happened. He never saw his old, prissy friends again. He never went back to that God forsaken Manor, since his mother had died of a heart attack shortly after Draco's father was finally thrown in Azkaban. The absence of it all made him a better person, or at least that's what he liked to think. He'd even grown out of his childish grudge on Potter and his friends, and whether it was because he never saw them anymore or he really had grown up, he wasn't sure.

Either way, it didn't matter much now. He would never see any of those people again anyway. Though he still lived in London, he hadn't seen nearly any wizards, and if he did it was no one he knew. And considering almost everyone in the Wizarding World knew him as Harry Potter school rival – part of the reason he left – he made sure that when they came around, they didn't catch sight of him. He considered using Polyjuice Potion, but decided against it because of the taste, Ms. Mulberry knowing his identity, and, well, the taste.

His days now consisted on cleaning tables, chatting up a couple girls at the diner, lots of laundry, and tea. Quite a change from the tumultuous, angst-filled days of his past, but he preferred it to be honest.

"Will? What the hell are you doing?"

Of course, Draco changed his name so the Daily Prophet story-whores wouldn't come looking for him. He supposed he could do a better job at covering his tracks than just changing his name, but he decided that if they came around, he'd just threaten to hex them into oblivion. Much simpler that way.

Blake laughed and she smacked him upside the head with her towel. Draco realized he'd absentmindedly stopped wiping down the table and started staring off into space.

Draco laughed, too, and shook his head, continuing what he was doing. "Just had a flashback, that's all."

"Ah," she said, smirking, and leaned against the bar. "About your mysterious past?"

He rolled his eyes and wiped his hands off. "It's not mysterious, Blake, I told you – I just had a rough time growing up, that's all."

"And I think there's a lot more to it than that." She said as Draco came up beside her and put his towel on the bar.

"Oh, stop pestering him, woman," John, the bartender and Draco's best mate, laughed, cleaning out a cup. "He's already had a bad day, the poor bloke got rejected by the pretty dame at the bar earlier."

"Did you now?" Blake laughed, launching herself over the bar to the other side. She walked over to John and slid her arms around his waist – they'd been dating for two years now.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I was a little off today."

"Yeah, no kidding. Usually your charms work on any woman," John said, shaking his head in shame. "She must be one of those independent, hard-working feminists. You know how they can be."

Blake let her boyfriend go and raised her eyebrows. "I would consider myself an independent, hard-working feminist."

Draco chuckled and took out his pack of cigarettes – one of his acquired Muggle habits – as he shook his head. Here we go again.

"Well, I didn't mean – I meant one of those snobby ones, babe –"

"I thought she was quite nice actually, I liked her – not every girl has to fall under Will's charms, you know –"

"I know that, Blake, it was a joke, I'm sorry."

"Stop using that tone."

"What tone?"

"That tone."

"I'm not using a damn tone, Blake."

"You just did!"

Draco shook his head and walked toward the door, grabbing his coat on the way out. "And this is why I stay single!" he said over his shoulder, smirking around his cigarette.

"Oh, shut it, Will! And take the cancer stick out!" Blake yelled after him, but he just chuckled, pushing through the door into the freezing London night.

He slid his coat on and pulled out his lighter, putting it to his cigarette absentmindedly. His mind drifted to his usual Muggle-like thoughts. When was he supposed to take the trash out again? Did he feed Max (his dog, one of the many things he'd acquired since his new life) before work? Did he have good milk?

He took the cigarette out and exhaled the smoke in a sigh, and turned to walk toward his apartment down the street. And that's when he saw the woman who'd rejected him at the bar leaning against the wall of the Diner. She had a slim dark gray suit on that was just tight enough to make out her curves but not too revealing, which what had caught Draco's attention in the first place. She had straight dark hair and dark eyes. She also had black-rimmed winged glasses, but they made her look more sexy-smart than smart-smart. Which was perfectly fine with him.

He slowed to a stop, a grin slowly spreading on his face. "Couldn't get enough of me, huh?"

She raised an eyebrow. "It would seem so. I just wanted to see how you were really like, when you're not flirting with every other girl."

Draco put the cigarette back in his mouth, appraising her with a chuckle. "What's your name?"

"Nora." She answered, looking at him in an odd way. She seemed oddly familiar, not her exactly, but something about her, but he pushed the thought away hastily. He didn't want to think of his past tonight.

"William," he replied with an easy grin, holding his hand out. "But call me Will."

She nodded slowly and held out her hand. She did things slowly and cautiously, like she was wary of him. Not in a 'you-seem-like-a-creep' way, but a 'I-know-more-about-you-than-you-think' way, which Draco was not okay with. She wasn't a . . .?

"Nora, I haven't met you before, have I? Not before today, I mean?" he said, shaking his head. She looked really familiar now, like she was a little blurry.

"No, I don't believe so." She said, and suddenly she came back into focus and he blinked rapidly.

Yeah, she's still solid. That was weird.

He cleared his throat. "Well, would you like to go for a drink then?" he asked, putting on a charming smile.

She smiled back coyly. "I'd love to, Will, but I'm afraid I have other things I need to take care of tonight. I'll come by the bar sometime, though, alright?"

He kept his face indifferent as he nodded, but felt uneasy. Why'd she even come back, then, if she wasn't interested in going out with him? She then walked down the street, leaving him behind to question what the hell just happened.

Meanwhile, Hermione Granger walked off, leaving Draco Malfoy behind to question what the hell just happened. She cursed herself mentally for getting to relaxed and letting her illusion charm slip. When she was out of sight, she slipped into an alleyway and pulled out her wand, conjuring her Patronus to send a message to Harry: "We've become acquainted. Hasn't even changed his bloody identity, but he's changed his name to William. Everything's going smoothly. But Harry, he doesn't seem like he's been doing anything evil and all that rubbish. He looks normal. I even saw him smoking a cigarette, for Merlin's sake. It's like he's . . . become a Muggle."

And she didn't know what to say after that, so she let the Patronus go with a sigh. She almost thought Draco acted . . . charming. It was very odd. And what was with the cigarettes?

She shook her head and left the alleyway. When she'd taken the mission to go undercover and track down Draco Malfoy, she couldn't believe it. Draco Malfoy had disappeared shortly after the war, and hadn't been heard of in seven years. However, that was the reason, apparently, why they needed to check in on him. Not just 'check in', like pop in and ask 'Hey, doin' anything evil lately? No? Okay, brilliant', but 'check in' like complete disguise-and-befriend thing. He had been a big contender in Dumbledore's death and was the son of the man who'd once been Voldemort's right hand man. Technically, he was next in line to start up the Death Eater regime once again.

Therefore, it was Hermione's job to befriend Draco and dig around in his personal life. Though, now after meeting him, it was like he was a different person. However, this was her job, and Draco could very well still be doing evil things and still . . . smoke Muggle cigarettes and work at a Muggle diner and wear Muggle clothes and hit on Muggle women. Because that made sense.

Hermione made an annoyed noise under her breath as she walked up to her ritzy Muggle hotel. She smiled at the doorman, who'd introduced himself as Mark and was blatantly obvious in his flirtation. Merlin, she didn't even do much with her body, just changed her hair, darkened her eyes and tanned her skin. She should be semi-flattered but she wasn't. Men were sex-driven idiots.

Her plan for the rest of her mission was to scope out his living space and his work space, make sure his friends were not insane and/or evil, and trail him for a couple days.

Then, hopefully, she'd be back home and never have to see him again.