OK so I this other story called "The Straw That Broke the Camel's Back" that I loved the concept of, but not the rest and so this is what that story has morphed into – so if you were following that and see it has been deleted DO NOT FEAR. Hopefully you will like this one even more! In essence, I stopped writing that one because I realized I didn't want to do another story at Hogwarts and I wanted to see how these characters would interact as grownups! In essence, this new story revolves around the same plot device as the old one i.e. a love type potion causing the arc of the story. I have tweaked that part a bit though, I thought it made much more sense this way than in the previous story where Hermione purposefully gave Malfoy a love potion! Hope you guys ENJOY. I have had much trepidation about posting it because I wanted to finish this in its entirety before putting it anywhere...but I'm too damn needy for some feedback.
Chapter 1: The Winter of Our Discontent
Sunday, January 16, 2005
Hermione Granger shuffled along the deadly slick sidewalk in the thick January snowfall; flakes stuck to her eyelashes, wool hat, and drenched her entire person. Part of her yearned to cast a quick warming spell, but she could not risk it in this muggle neighbourhood. Besides, she scowled to herself, her completely miserable physical state suited her black mood much better.
Fwomp she spun to her right as the collapse of snow from a rooftop cut through the darkness and snowy din. Beyond that she caught a glimpse into a warmly lit apartment; an attractive couple shared a glass of wine over a succulent-looking roast chicken.
"Bollocks," she hissed to herself, accidentally plunging an already-soaked boot deep into an icy puddle. Fuck it: flagrante! She roared internally, too overwrought and exhausted to care about being caught performing magic any longer. No one would be out anyway. Normal people were wrapped up inside surrounded by lovers, friends, family…joy.
She grumbled to herself to drown out her inner pity party as the hidden flame's warmth gave her the strength to soldier on and attend to the matter at hand; finding the flat.
It truly was a miracle that she had found this place, she reminded herself, a good apartment only two weeks after Christmas was almost unheard of, especially in London.
Warmth tingled life into her hands and she stomped her numb feet while scanning the addresses, urging herself onwards.
"76 C Perrin's Walk," she sighed as she squinted to read numbers against the snowfall and dull streetlamps. Fwomp another glob of snow came down close to her right and she clutched her hat to her head. It had to be coming up soon, she encouraged herself, any moment now-
There!
A tall colonial-style home stared back at her similar to the countless others she had passed. Hermione couldn't help smiling; she'd made it! And it didn't look half bad. She trudged up the front steps, pulled open the charming gate, up more stairs to the door, and buzzed the bell. She sighed as she waited to be let in and looked warily around her. A peek inside revealed a well kept set of stairs. Sturdy-looking and wood. It could definitely be worse. She dared say it looked promising.
Whoosh she barely noticed a figure approach and was swept up in the warm air washing over her from the open door,
"Alright there honey? You must be Miss Granger? Well come in, come in dear!"
A plump and bespectacled woman motioned her inside and Hermione had to hold back tears. A friendly greeting felt like a long lost hug, the anonymity was a safe haven, and the heat felt so damn good! When had her life turned so bleak she would feel so moved by the simple offerings of a strange place and person?
"I'll take it!" Hermione choked out, surprising herself and the woman equally, "I will take the flat Mrs Ellerdale."
HP*
Draco Malfoy spun his wand expertly between his long fingers; he was two hours into his afternoon sulk in his enormous Bayswater's Wizarding District flat and feeling immensely sorry for himself. Beyond his bedroom door he dimly registered the sounds of afternoon tea being assembled, conversation, and…laughter which caused him to shiver with disgust and scowl scathingly.
He had the worst fucking roommates on the planet.
"Oi Draco," one of them called to him, "Tea's ready if it so pleases your majesty."
"How rude Zabini," Blaise jumped back as the door sprung open unsettlingly and his curmudgeon of a roommate emerged. Draco's back hunched tensely; his body was a tangle of sinewy muscles beneath his all black ensemble. Blaise resisted the urge to roll his eyes, now recovered from his earlier shock. Malfoy had not taken tea with them for the past two weeks.
"To what do the miserable peasants Miss Parkinson and I owe this honour?" Blaise mock bowed as Draco helped himself to the tea and refreshments that Pansy had not fully finished assembling.
"I have something to discuss with you," Draco explained in a clipped tone as he took up half the space at the massive and ornate table. Blaise and Pansy shared a knowing look before he dropped an affectionate kiss on her cheek. The last time they'd had a "discussion" Draco spent an hour delineating bathroom schedules.
Blaise raised his eyebrows expectantly as he filled up his plate,
"Sit" Draco answered as he motioned to the table's eleven other chairs, "Let's be civilised at least."
"You wouldn't know civil if it came out of your hair product," Pansy jibed as she sat a few chairs away from him.
He merely grimaced and buttered a scone in response.
Blaise settled next to Pansy noting with dismay his broody roommate's increased pallor. He had hoped the last almost year and a half of living together and getting Draco out of that mausoleum of a Manor might help his friend somehow, but Draco's six year long bad mood streak never seemed to end.
"Should I be worried?" Blaise voiced into the silence only half-serious.
"What's there to worry about?" Draco spoke with mock-excitement, "Or haven't you heard? I've a massive inheritance, a job where I'm paid thousands of galleons for doing nothing, and a never ending string of willing witches!"
Pansy coughed as she swallowed an incredibly large gulp of scalding tea, "That article was," she gasped, "A load of utter rubbish. I cannot believe you would even spare it a second thought."
Blaise nodded, "It was pure filler mate. There's always a lull they need to fill after the holiday. Especially now that the frenzy over the Weasley-Granger split has died down," Blaise shrugged, "They need something to print."
"Of course I've not wasted a bloody moment on that trash," Draco hissed, even though he was in the paper often enough he considered investing in it, "I'm just sick of the two of you hovering over me like I'm about the fall apart. That article is right; my life is abso-fucking-lutely perfect. I wish you both would just fuck off already. You're worse than my mother."
Blaise looked over to see Pansy's face wracked with hurt and he felt a flash of hot temper grip him at the ruthlessness of Draco's attack.
"Now wait just a bloody minute Draco," he raised his voice, "Don't you start taking this out on Pansy and I. We have been nothing but good friends to you. And don't bullshit a bullshitter. We both know you're not all right," a hint of colour rose on Draco's cheeks, "But we leave you to your own devices, lord knows," Blaise was yelling now, "We overlook every sodden thing that you get up to."
A muscle in Draco's jaw clenched and twitched, "I am going to move out."
Pansy's teaspoon clattered down on the table,
"Draco! Please don't go. You don't have to! Blaise and I love having you here-"
"Yeah Draco, please. You are so more than welcome here. We picked this place out with you in mind mate, it just wouldn't be the same without-"
Draco put up a hand to stop them. Blaise frowned and Pansy's face creased with worry.
"This place is suitable enough, however, it is clearly meant for a couple or a family," he paused, "I'm a rich twenty-four year old bachelor. You two have been together for four years and are heading towards," he shivered internally, "marriage. I've no place here and you don't deserve to have me brooding constantly or stomping in pissed with strangers at all hours," he could see Pansy wavering, she could definitely use the space away from Draco, "We all know I can afford it and you only keep me around because you're afraid I'll Avada myself."
"I assume," Blaise cleared his throat, "That you've already found a place."
"Almost," Draco sniffed aristocratically and finished the rest of his scone, "I'm thinking Hampstead. A lot of young and loose muggles there I hear."
"Draco!"
"Kidding," he put up a hand again, "Like I would ever openly sully myself with a muggle."
Both Pansy and Blaise snickered, "Good to see this move is lifting your spirits enough to go after muggles," Blaise continued, "But seriously Draco, I don't want to see you go."
Draco sipped his tea and shrugged, "It's time. I won't return to the Manor, but I need my own place. It won't be until my last project at the Ministry has blown over," Malfoy scowled darkly, "The bloody thing is ruining my life."
"Ah yes," Pansy's eyes shone with amusement, "How is our favourite war hero faring in her latest attempt to slip a piece of legislation past her merciless overlord?"
Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, "She's disconcertingly determined," he looked up with a hint of a smirk, "Emotional gutting gives her more pitiful free time than usual."
"Is that why you've been more lovely than usual the past weeks?" Blaise inquired sarcastically, "All the extra time you had to spend tolerating her hounding?"
"No thankfully," Draco set his teacup poshly on the table, "She has been so tied up with her ridiculous Charter of fucking Self-Righteousness that I rarely see her. I think she believes if she does enough work on it the thing will actually pass," He raised his cup to his perfectly formed and smooth lips, "It's almost a pity the time she's wasted on the thing as I never plan on voting it through," He paused thoughtfully and sipped, "If she'd spent that much time taking care of Weasley she might still have him."
Pansy sucked in a disapproving breath and he shot her a challenging glare,
"Did I hit a sore spot Pans?"
"It's just," Pansy couldn't help but interject, "We all know she's a horrible muggle born suck-up and snob, but this holiday really has been awful to her; she's in the press every other day, she's been completely embarrassed in front of the entire wizarding community, especially after his New Year's fling," Both men looked surprised that she followed the story so closely, "Oh hush! It's everywhere! Plus, Potter got engaged and her parents have been abroad for months! Couldn't you, you know, give her a break?"
Draco was shocked Pansy would defend their Gryffindor rival so strongly; he didn't like mentioning to anyone of his circle the real story behind his working in Granger's Department, namely that she was clearly his boss, or his motive for thwarting her Charter. It was frankly embarrassing to constantly admit to being her lackey and the fact that most of them ignored the press kept it a relatively unspoken of affair. Until, he scowled, this bloody Charter had been shedding unwanted light on the situation.
He looked lazily to Blaise, "Blaise, are you seriously dating a woman who is defending Hermione Granger, the woman she bullied mercilessly at school and beyond, to me because of a minor breakup?"
"Draco," Blaise began cautiously, "You have to admit you are rather…ruthless when it comes to Granger.
"Granger's complete failure of a life has no meaning to me, except to remark that I am not surprised," Draco clenched his jaw, "If she presented valuable legislation I would not object to voting for it. I am completely fair."
Pansy guffawed, "As fair as a bought judge-"
"As Snape dealing with Gryffindors-"
"As Goyle dealing with alcohol-"
"Alright," Draco stood with an air of power and intimidation in spite of the fatigue in his face and death in his eyes, "It's no secret that there's no love lost between Granger and I. Now give me some peace before I have to deal with the blasted bint tomorrow."
HP*
Hermione dragged in the last of her boxes up the large flight of stairs, across the landing, and mercifully into her flat. Finally, she huffed as the closed the door to 76 C Perrin's Walk, she could use magic! Her landlord's, Mrs Ellerdale's, brother had insisted on helping her carry everything so she wasn't even able to use the feather-light charm. She exhaled and blew a sweaty clump of curls off of her forehead.
Now, she looked around her new flat piled high with bins and boxes, it was time to set up her new life.
She charmed her things to find their proper place while moving around the apartment to manually arrange the finer details. It was hard to believe, after the last month she'd had, that she had lucked out so fully when she impulsively took this flat only last night.
It was cute, clean, warm, and feminine with a lovely entrance into a warm and white kitchen with sage green cabinets and light wood countertops with a half-circle and sizeable table up against the opposite wall. She bought fresh white daisies, no doubt out of season and shipped in from somewhere far away, she fantasised, to sit atop the shelf and hooks where she hung her coats and hats. Off of the kitchen there was a cozy and bright sitting room complete with a white brick fireplace and two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, soft and sage green carpet, high ceilings and lots of natural light. Last, but not least, was another hallway off of the kitchen leading to a modest, but nice full bathroom and a gorgeous bedroom in which her gigantic and brand new bed was currently setting itself up with a thousand count organic cotton sheets and a plush white duvet.
Hermione breathed in the comforting scent of fresh laundry and collapsed back into her mind-numbingly comfortable bed with a sigh. It was her private oasis away from the prying, and cruel, eyes of the wizarding world. No one, not even her parents, had any idea about this place on 76 Perrin's Walk and she intended to keep it that way. It was easy to keep the Grangers in the dark at the moment as they had been abroad in Australia for the past four months and not returning until the end of January. She still felt bitter that her mother was not around to comfort her in the wake of everything; "I'm so sorry dear," Mrs. Granger had trilled over skype while Hermione sat in a dingy muggle internet cafe, "Things will turn up though, I'm sure." Her mother smiled warmly, but Hermione knew better. They had never really liked Ron. Her parents were highly educated and could be quite the academic snobs; Ron's intellect had apparently failed to impress them. Despite the fact that he helped save the entire Wizarding World apparently, she aggressively rolled her eyes in frustration, he was not near the top of their Hogwart's class and therefore inadequate. She had never told Ron, fearing it would make him even more anxious and insecure, and her parents kept it so well hidden only she could detect the slights, but it still irked her.
Hermione shook the unpleasant thoughts away and refocused on her new room in her secret flat. According to the papers she was currently couch surfing with each and every bachelor of Quidditch's elite; drowning her sorrows in copious amounts of alcohol and unavailable men after the most recent development in the Weasley-Granger breakup.
She picked up the paper that shot out of the bedroom's tiny fireplace and smacked her on the head. There were, however, some things even boarding oneself up in the heart of Hampstead Village in muggle London couldn't protect one from unfortunately. She had to remain connected to the Floo Network for instance, which meant she would still receive this rubbish news. She had requested to have all of her mail redirected via floo instead of by the usual owl post; she had learned this would circumvent a lot of unwanted questions from her muggle neighbours.
Now, on the other hand, she would no longer have to deal with the stories and tips about her doings and whereabouts; the majority of her money was safely locked up with the Royal Bank of Scotland and all anyone in the wizarding world would know of her was her work at the Ministry and her attendance at mandatory social functions. She flicked open this latest edition, preparing for the worst;
Ron Weasley, it read, spotted having a late dinner with busty brunette as Granger is seen wandering in a drunken stupor around Diagon Alley. Perhaps Quidditch's elite no longer fancy her warming their beds?
She slapped down the paper with a huff and sat up. Yes, she had been to Diagon Alley yesterday to finish up some last minute business before the move, namely terminating her common law status with Ron and formally ending her lease on the apartment they'd shared with Harry, but she certainly had not been in a "drunken stupor," nor "warming the beds" of anyone. "Angry stupor" or "Shocked stupor" maybe, she stretched onto her stomach, the bloody Prophet could at least attempt to keep up some semblance of being a reputable paper and get that correct.
Hermione scanned the full article more out of habit than out of interest, seeing that they did in fact mention the nature of her business yesterday.
"Incendio!" She had cried before she even realized it; the paper burst into flame before her and engulfed its poisonous content in one smoky belch. Her eyes were wide in shock and pride. She cleaned up the mess with a flick of her wand choosing to ignore her currently unstable mental state. First, renting a flat on complete impulse and next performing magic without consciously meaning to…
Knock, knock she heard softly and skipped quickly towards the front door. She had promised Mrs Ellerdale that she would have Sunday dinner at her flat in the basement and it was half past six now.
Hermione dusted off her light blue jeans, smoothed down her simple black sweater, and shook out her unruly hair.
"Coming," she felt startled from the ringing of her own voice in the quiet after having been ensconced in solitude for what felt like ages.
"Hello," Hermione smiled as the cheerful Mrs Ellerdale appeared in a printed apron and modest dress on the landing, "Thank you again for inviting me to dinner Mrs Ellerdale."
"Nonsense!" The delightfully plump landlady exclaimed, "You just moved in and it's back to work tomorrow. I can't have your first dinner here be alone with horrid takeout," she bustled Hermione onto the landing, "Let's have a look at you."
Hermione bristled under the scrutinizing gaze and tugged at the hem of her sweater. "It's been," she wriggled awkwardly, "A…trying holiday season for me this year Mrs Ellerdale. I'm a-afraid I haven't quite kept up with myself…" Hermione mumbled apologetically and stared intently at the wood floor. What if this woman had somehow stumbled upon a picture of her? What if she knew? Or worse, what if she could just tell?
"Bollocks," Hermione started upon hearing the woman curse and looked up into her laughing face, "You're a lovely young woman Miss Granger and I certainly don't feel sorry for you," Hermione smiled weakly, infinitely thankful again for the freedom of anonymity, "Let's head down shall we?" Mrs Ellerdale ushered and mothered Hermione down two flights of stairs and into her pleasingly bright basement flat.
The table was already set with a steaming bowl of what looked to be chicken soup. Hermione felt her stomach grumble and her mouth salivate.
"Sit, sit!" Mrs Ellerdale insisted reminding Hermione painfully of Mrs Weasley. She quelled down the sting and desperately hoped Mrs Ellerdale didn't have any sons.
"I always like to get to know my new tenants," Mrs Ellerdale insisted as Hermione seated herself and scanned the apartment for family photos, "Like to know who I'm living with you know? I only own this one place and I haven't housed a bad egg yet!"
"Excellent," Hermione forced out cheerfully, "You must meet some interesting potential tenants."
"Oh yes," Mrs Ellerdale agreed as she took a large spoonful of soup, Hermione followed suit and almost groaned with pleasure as the warm broth exploded with flavour and warmth in her mouth and glided down her throat, "People are extremely interested in this area," she slurped her soup loudly and Hermione couldn't help but find herself liking her. Mrs Ellerdale seemed honest, kind, and brash.
"Most definitely," Hermione went on, "This is such an amazing find, truly, I was so surprised to find it on the market especially at this time of year," Mrs Ellerdale nodded,
"Oh yes, there was a lot of interest and I turned many a person away," Hermione felt her interest pique; she had let her take the flat so easily after Hermione made an offer without even seeing the place. She let Mrs Ellerdale continue, "We still have one more vacancy on the top floor above yours. 76 E. Every other floor is divided between two flats, but the top floor is entirely E's. I expect not many bachelors can afford such a large space," she paused, "Well, not many that I like anyway."
"Oh," Hermione slurped down her soup hungrily, "I had no idea you were turning people away-I mean-I practically threw myself at your feet! I must have looked such a complete fright yesterday…I can't believe you would be willing to let me have it."
Mrs Ellerdale smiled, "Your resume and references were both impeccable and you were so wonderfully…desperate."
Hermione choked, "Wow," she coughed, "I'm that obvious, huh?" It felt so good to talk to someone who knew nothing about her; so unthreatening although her landlady could still sense her desperation. It was just so freeing to talk to someone who didn't prejudice her for being Hermione Granger. To Mrs Ellendale, she was just another down on her luck young woman. Not a publically dumped and thought-underemployed war hero.
"Afraid so dear," Mrs Ellendale patted her hand softly, "But you also had a spark about you. A bite. I like that."
Hermione felt unreasonably flattered, "Oh," she swallowed, feeling once again on the brink of tears, "Well, thank you. That's very nice."
They continued slurping in silence for a moment afterwards and she suspected Mrs Ellendale was giving her a moment to collect herself.
"So that flat upstairs" Hermione returned to the non-threatening subject, "There are plenty of wealthy young men here in London and even some must be tolerable although I currently cannot attest to that," the two chuckled amicably, "I could definitely help you advertise if you'd like? I've had some experience advertising for roommates."
Mrs Ellerdale looked sincerely touched, "Oh would you? I knew you looked like a smart cookie!"
"Top of my class actually," Hermione heard slip out, her misery and desperation hungry for any sort of recognition, "I mean," she interjected, "That was a bit vain of me. I apologize."
"Oh nonsense!" Mrs Ellendale waved her apology away, "Good for you girl!" she beamed, "I would absolutely love to have the woman from the top of her class help me out. I'm not much for computers or technology myself."
"Great," Hermione felt herself break into a real smile, "I'm just finishing up on a major project for work, but as soon as I'm done I will let you know and get right on it."
Mrs Ellendale expressed her greatest thanks again and the two finished their meal in companionable and, Hermione admitted, even enjoyable conversation. When she left full of hot soup and many undeserved compliments courtesy of her adorable landlady Hermione felt almost human. And she would need that boost for tomorrow during the largest presentation of her career in the Department for the Protection of Magical Rights. She would need that little selfish nugget of a happy moment to help her through dealing with him.
HP*
Malfoy arrived at the modest second floor office customarily late and completely unruffled. He scoffed for the thousandth time at the fact that this joke of a Department wasn't relegated to the basement only because of its painfully famous employee.
He passed the blonde and practically brainless secretary, tossed his coat and umbrella unceremoniously over two cubicles onto his desk, and headed to the tiny coffee counter for his fourth coffee that day.
It was nine o'clock.
He glanced disinterestedly at yesterday's paper, taking silent pleasure at the unattractive moving photo of his boss snivelling like the pathetic old maid she was amongst the mounds of ice and snow in Diagon Alley. Another, equally unflattering photo of Weasley flashed beneath that of him ducking out of an upscale restaurant in a sea of flashbulbs with a nameless woman on his arm. Malfoy begrudgingly admitted that she wasn't completely hopeless looking.
"Mr Malfoy," a soft and earthy voice spoke behind him.
He sucked in a warning breath.
"Miss Granger," of course she ignored his warning in favour if catering to bloody Granger, the traitorous wench, "Requests your presence at the meeting this morning promptly."
"Well Whittenmoore," Draco spun around and expounded harshly, "Glad to see your social awareness is as dim as usual this morning. Tell Miss Granger that although I may be forced to work here as punishment for my family's past misdeeds, I am still guaranteed my government regulated coffee break," the woman blinked back tears, "Cheers," he raised his cup mockingly and stormed past her and to his desk where he threw himself down and seethed venom. He dared anyone in this bloody office to even make eye contact with him today.
He sipped his coffee and glowered; desperately wishing he had an office with a door he could slam and not this pathetic cubicle. It was so demeaning. He pinched the bridge of his nose as his anger grew. Any moment now the bitch would be out here and yelling at him, any moment now he would be emasculated in front of the entire office – he breathed heavily – at least he had worked his way up the office food chain over the last year. Because now, he released the hold on his face, he had some sort of power.
He smirked - he could disband this project. This project and, effectively, this entire Department that represented the enormity of his failure and shame. And there was nothing she could do about it.
"Malfoy," she spat.
He spun around in his seat and sipped languidly, meeting her eyes filled with loathing. She was looking particularly pinched today.
"That's Mr Malfoy since the promotion Granger."
She fumed and he felt his anger dissipate further, "I should have sentenced you to Azkaban when I had the chance."
"Unlikely," he sniffed haughtily, "You were too soft to be an Auror then Granger and you still are. You couldn't even stick it out in that cushy, Ministry-appointed job and here I thought Weasley had been the weak link of the trio."
He watched gleefully as she bit back an infinite amount of insults and as a real sting of hurt flashed across her features no matter how hard she tried to hide it. She had been the one to assign Malfoy to this joke of a Department six years ago when she had just started working in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, helping to dole out punishment amongst the Voldemort sympathisers and followers.
She had undoubtedly been overjoyed with the knowledge that she ensured that if the one and only Draco Malfoy wanted to have a job at the Ministry it would be fighting for the rights of all the half-breeds and mudbloods he had spent his entire life discriminating against and worse. His housemate and one time crony, Goyle, had also suffered the same fate.
Draco hadn't even shown up to work for the first four years of the position and instead squandered away his time and inheritance on booze, parties, travel, women, anything – anything to escape the hell of his home filled with haunting memories, his deranged mother, and the ghost of his incarcerated father.
He found evil and danger abroad, mostly with his arsehole of a second cousin, same as he had at home although he made absolutely sure to cover his tracks with only the odd highly dubious rumour making its way back home as tabloid fodder. His fellow Slytherins, namely Blaise and Pansy who found love and stability at home together, had been worried enough to attempt to force him back home on more than one occasion. A fact which only made him push farther and harder into the depths. It wasn't until he had sunk so low that he was destitute and almost committed while in Bulgaria and had to be bailed out by his crazy mother that he returned to the Manor and began sporadically showing up at this job mostly to break up his extreme ennui. He still sinned of course; gambling, fighting, sleepless nights, women, drink...
He hadn't even realized Granger worked at the bloody Department until he had been showing up for a couple of months a year and a half ago when she breezed in, outrageous hair completely unfit for the public, in some sort of pastel blazer straight from a thrift shop, and Weasley following close behind.
"Look at this office!" she exclaimed loudly, "It's lovely isn't it Ron? See? What did I tell you? I would have my own private office just like upstairs; they just moved this Department up here six months ago when I initially expressed interest."
Draco straightened surreptitiously in his chair to get a better view. Not that he cared or anything. Just curious as to why bloody Granger and Weasley of all people were showing up here in the middle of the day assessing the place. Assessing as if…as if they-as if she-
"It's fine Hermione, but I honestly don't see why you need to switch departments and leave the Aurors. Our office is much nicer than this."
"Oh Ron," she pouted in what Draco assumed she thought was an attractive way, when in reality it was as boring and desperate as ever; four and a half years since he had last seen her and she was still as painfully plain. Everything about her was dull. Unkempt looking hair, nondescript dark eyes, a childish smattering of freckles, a forgettable nose, and no figure he could detect beneath her offensive and oversized wardrobe. She was the best someone like Weasley could ever hope for, but what anyone else saw in her was beyond him. Blaise wouldn't shut up about her lips when he was arsehole-drunk, Draco gave them a cursory once over, he supposed they weren't hideous.
"I don't want a nice office," she explained to Ron as if speaking to a third grader, breaking into his thoughts, "I just want to work here; fighting for the rights of the disenfranchised of the Wizarding World. I don't know how I didn't realize it sooner! I've spent all these years searching when it was right under my nose all along with my work in S.P.E.W."
"Well," Ron took a big breath and Draco could no longer had to see them only hear. If he could have smiled he would; it was the small blessings in life.
"Hermione if this is what you really want…"
"Oh Ron!" she squealed and the sound of her clutching him in a bone-crushing hug ensued, "This is so exciting! Oh I'm just so…happy! Let's go out to that Indian place to celebrate OK?"
"OK, well, err-I actually promised-"
"Ron! This is huge news! We've got to go out and celebrate…" their voices faded away as they headed towards the doors and out of the office.
Two weeks later and she had once again become the bane of his existence. It was as if the years between Hogwarts and now had evaporated and he had never left her grating, inane, and sunshine-overload Gryffindor presence.
Except this time the world was upside down.
This time she thought she had all the power, this time others were practically falling to their knees before her and constantly kissed her arse instead of fearing and longing to be him.
The only way he could counter this imbalance of power was to play her game and rise in the ranks. That was how he had become Assistant Deputy Head of the Department for the Protection of Magical Rights. He didn't care about magical rights, though he no longer held onto his old prejudices; Malfoy was a loyal member of the winning side whichever that may be.
No, he worked hard in order to make her life such a living hell that she would finally recant her ruling ousting him to this department for ten years and send him somewhere else. Anywhere else. The Department of Muggle Loving for instance or the Department of Albus Dumbledore's Memorial Upkeep Club…at this point he truly would go anywhere to escape this.
"Malfoy" her voice was pure venom and effectively cut his bleak reminiscing short, "Get. In. That. Boardroom. Now."
The only problem, he scowled in response, was getting Hermione Granger to swallow her pride and free him. She would literally suffer any abuse rather than do that and he had started to doubt that anything he pulled would sway her, he smirked, until now. Until this project.
The Charter of Rights and Freedoms for all Magical Individuals.
It was a gift that fell into his lap and kept on giving.
"I hardly think," he finally answered, "You need my presence in order to get on with your little meeting."
"You know," her voice was soft and deadly as she raked a hand through her hair, "That I cannot conduct this meeting without the Assistant Deputy Head of the Department."
He smirked up at her innocently, "Isn't bureaucracy a bitch?"
"I can still arrange Azkaban you soulless bastard."
He met her challenging glare with a hard look, "Anything would be better than this."
"God damnit!" She hissed drawing closer to him, "Doesn't this Charter mean anything to you? You've been working on it for months and it may be the single most important piece of legislation produced this century," she tugged at her ill-fitting navy blazer, "I thought even you would be better than this."
He stood and reveled in the inches he towered above her. She stared up at him defiantly as ever.
"This office was inept before I started showing up."
"Showing up," she snorted, "You use that term quite loosely."
"Funny," the threat was blatant on his tongue, "I was thinking of saying you did the same when composing the Charter to the Review Board today."
HP*
Hermione had never felt like using an Unforgiveable more than at this moment. Not even during the War.
She glared up into the hateful, and pale as ever, face of Draco Malfoy and saw nothing but red. He really was low enough to dismantle the biggest piece of legislation in an age. What the hell was he playing at? She wished she could read his mind just this once and figure out how to make him do this and cursed that he was such an accomplished Occlumens. A fact she learned from experience she recalled begrudgingly. She bit her lip, clearly idle threats weren't effective…maybe a more diplomatic approach?
She noticed a muscle in his taught jaw twitch and took a deep breath, "Look Malfoy, Mr Malfoy," she amended quickly as he moved to interrupt, "You have been effective in this position and I have noticed that; that is why we in upper management promoted you. Let's put aside our differences and finally get this project over with. Then we can return to never seeing or interacting with one another unless absolutely necessary."
He crossed his arms over his broad chest and eventually gave the smallest of shrugs. Hermione almost cried in relief; this was the universal sign that Malfoy had given in. He would do this. Just one more hour she told herself just one more hour and she would be home free, the legislation she had been dreaming of and working on in her mind for years would finally be a reality. Something would actually go right in her life.
She turned and strode into the room followed by the sulking, but present form of Malfoy.
"Ladies and gentlemen," she could finally begin, ignoring the clamminess of her hands and putting on her biggest smile, "I apologise for the delay," the five board members nodded politely, "Mr Malfoy is here now and we are ready to proceed."
Hermione settled between Malfoy, her secretary Mary Whittenmoore, and the Deputy Head of the Department Parvati Patil.
"Mr Granger," barked the board's leader, Hermione didn't bother to correct his mistake, the lack of knowledge about her or her personal life was always welcome and she did not want to risk offending him with the correction, "We have extensively reviewed your work and have come up with several questions to pose to your team," he glanced up passively, "If you pass this portion of the review, we will then move onto the Department-wide vote of confidence, and follow onto finalizing everything before it is officially turned over to the Wizengamot to be passed into law," he noisily cleared his throat, "Any questions?"
"Not from us!" Hermione heard her voice chirp, "All questions shall come from you alone from now on!"
She could practically hear Malfoy roll his eyes to her left. She almost couldn't blame him; she was acting insane. She would do her best to act normal; everything depended upon it.
"Right," the board leader furrowed his brow and then the entire board launched into an hour-long assault on the Charter. Her team performed fabulously; Parvati was an extremely competent addition to the team made a year ago, Whittenmoore was a bit spacey at times but knew the Charter like the back of her hand, and even Malfoy was contributing in a relatively polite manner. She could not have hoped for things to go better than this.
She waited with bated breath as the board tallied and discussed their responses. Finally, the leader looked up.
"OK Miss Granger," he stood up passing out an official looking sheet, "You passed. All that's left is the anonymous vote of confidence; you need support from the entire department in order for this process to continue. If you do not meet this requirement your department will be able to appeal this decision at the Wizengamot six months from now after taking the concerns of the Department into consideration and revising the work," he paused and gave her a smile over his glasses and mustache, "Although I doubt we will have a problem today will we?"
Hermione nodded, "No sir, I know I have the full support of my Department behind me."
She smiled back and helped him pass out the forms to the members in the board room with her and then out into the office to the eight other members of the department. She felt full of trepidation and excitement; it was happening, so many long months of work and then a Christmas filled with misery, but this one great thing was finally happening. Her hands shook as she distributed the forms.
Mary's serene smile swam in front of her face, "Congratulations Hermione," she grasped her hands, "You did it."
"We did it," Hermione managed, "Thank yourself and everyone," her voice rose, "Thank you everyone! We did it!" She thought she may have heard a weak cheer from the back cubicles.
Malfoy materialized in front of her and smoothly snatched a form from her hand, "Well, don't you look chipper Granger," she tried to ignore him, just get through this-just get through this she tried to remind herself, but his voice bored into her brain.
She couldn't help it, especially in her extremely vulnerable and overwrought state, plus Malfoy was just so good at getting to her. She should have just walked away Hermione would think later that day. She should have bloody turned around and sprinted back into the board room. Instead, she stayed and she listened.
"In fact, I don't know who looked happier," he went on as she stood there like his willing audience member, "You about getting your stupid project passed or Weasley in the papers after he gave himself the greatest Christmas gift of all; leaving you."
Slap before she knew it her hand was stinging from its swift contact with Malfoy's face. It swung and fell limply to her side and away from his hateful, horrible, and reddening expression just as she finally registered what had come to pass. She had hit him. Again. In front of the entire office.
She felt out of control, rabid, and crazed. She may have been foaming at the mouth for all she knew; she was so blinded by and consumed with hate; all those months bone tired from working on this, losing Ron, having an entire community knowing the most intimate and embarrassing details of her private life, or fabricating them and hounding her at every turn; Malfoy had finally pushed her too far. It was the last straw; nothing else seemed to matter because she had officially cracked. She still could barely register where she was as she stared into his revolting face and spat,
"I was going to give myself the best gift of all this year and finally fire you," she growled like an animal, "But fuck you; you just earned yourself a guaranteed spot to rot in this Department for the rest of your life."
The Department was dead quiet. The board members poked their heads out of the meeting room at the sound of the commotion. Everyone watched as Draco, silent as the grave, set his form down on the desk beside Hermione and himself, filled in a vote against the Charter, signed it despite it being anonymous, and slammed it against the wall before thundering out of the Department.
The paper sliced through the air like the blade of a knife through Hermione's heart before coming to rest innocently on the floor. She stared at it blankly.
"Miss Granger," she looked up with wild and helpless eyes towards the board room, "Is everything alright?"
"Fine!" She exclaimed far too brightly, smoothing out her blazer maniacally "All is fine here. I will just collect these," she motioned around, "And get you all on your way."
She shuffled around gathering the forms, sensing Mary and Parvati trying to catch her attention, then hurried over to the board leader depositing her fate in his arms.
"There you go," she intoned weakly, "Thank you."
He reached out to shake her hand and she barely noticed. Her mind was miles away plotting, scheming, roiling, and toiling. All the sadness, anger, and hurt from the past months culminated into a hard little ball in her chest, sending her emotions reeling as she practically sprinted for the refuge of her office.
If she had just held off for one more minute, if her life wasn't in such a downward spiral, if things were different...
At this moment Hermione Granger knew that if there was anything she could do to change things, anything at all, she would not hesitate to do it.
She should have just walked away.