She was running late. 'Damn it, damn it, damn it!' thought Hermione as she struggled to walk then run in the very stylish, very posh Muggle designer stilettos she'd just had to have. She was such a sucker for shoes. She'd bought this particular pair after convincing herself that the very, very (okay very) high pale silver shoes with twirly pale bronze flowers running down the front were absolutely practical for work.

Okay, maybe not exactly practical but damn they made her legs look good and truth be told she wanted to look really smashing TODAY!

Dressed in a deep purple cotton shirt dress with a modest caftan neckline and three quarter sleeves; her long, riotous, dark brown curls pulled back tightly into a professional-looking pony tail made Hermione feel confident and sexy, as if she'd walked right out of the pages of British Vogue. Lush, tailor-made robes of lightweight dark purple silk elegantly clung to her curvy figure accentuating her breasts and showing off toned legs. Subtle, simple makeup with lots of mascara emphasized her golden brown eyes. Wizards stopped and turned to watch her as she glided through the Ministry Atrium. Hermione didn't even notice. She hoped she looked fabulous she needed to look fabulous for this meeting today.

'Yes,' she mused, at 5'3" she knew she was too short to be a model but that didn't mean she couldn't indulge in her love affair with clothes – especially gorgeous, designer Muggle clothes. 'Yes,' she chuckled to herself; she knew that most of her wizarding colleagues didn't even know what British Vogue was let alone Christian Louboutin but she didn't care, she knew. And wearing these beautiful clothes made her feel in control and proud of her Muggle heritage.

After the war, Hermione had finally come into her own. She had grown into a confident, strong woman who happened to have a penchant for fashion. Primarily Muggle fashion, with a particular emphasis on shoes. She sighed, 'Shoes!' Shoes were her obsession – her shoes defined her mood for the day be they stilettos, kitten heels, flats, patent-leather, studded, peep-toe, sling backs, etc. and damn it, she felt she had earned this little indulgence. For Goddess sake, it's not as if she couldn't afford it, she made a high salary in her position as Head of Muggle-Wizard Relations working directly with both the Minister of Magic and the Muggle Prime Minister. She'd also come into her inheritance after turning twenty-one, her parents, though no Malfoy's in terms of wealth, were certainly not poor!

The war had been over more than seven years. Finally, after defeating Voldemort, she and her friends were free. Free to live; free to be happy, free to be themselves. Harry and Ginny had gotten together after a whirlwind courtship. He was happy as an Auror and Ginny's career was flourishing as a reporter for The Daily Prophet. Everyone was expecting an engagement announcement very soon. Ron and Hermione had tried to make a go of a relationship but realized quickly that they were better off as friends. Thank Merlin for that too. After that kiss on the battlefield, being together just hadn't felt right. In fact, every time Ron had kissed her it left an awful taste in her mouth that no amount of mouthwash could eliminate. While that might sound a bit harsh, she could never get over the fact that every time she and Ron kissed she felt as if she had just kissed her brother. She shuddered at the memory of when he had first tried to touch her breast.

The relationship fizzled very rapidly after that particular little incident. The guilt ate at her until she'd taken to avoiding Ron nearly costing her one of her dearest friends. No, she was very happy that Ron had moved on and now their friendship was back on track and much to everyone's surprise, Ron was happily dating Pansy Parkinson, of all people. Pansy seemed to balance him and, in all honesty, was not such a terrible person once you got to know her. After an awkward 'getting to know one another' phase, Pansy and Hermione had become friends. Such good friends that the Slytherin beauty was the reason Hermione was running late for her meeting this morning. Pansy had insisted on an all-girls Hogwarts reunion. She was famous for her 'reunions' which were really just an excuse for the girls to get together and drink. Last night, Pansy, Ginny, Luna, Daphne, Hannah, Susan, Tracy, Millicent, Cho and Hermione had met at The Leaky Cauldron for what was supposed to be one round of butter beers. One turned into . . . well, she had lost count after the fifth round. Fire whiskey had quickly replaced butter beers. Thank Goddess, Hermione chose her outfits for the week on Sunday evenings or she'd never have been able to coordinate something this morning. Merlin, she had no idea why the hell she'd even agreed to go out last night a weekday no less knowing she had this particular meeting today.

After waking up with a massive headache, she'd panicked once realizing the time, jumped in the shower, dressed, grabbed her oversized handbag and downed a hangover cure potion of her own personal recipe. Once she'd managed to slip into the gorgeous heels, she'd Floo'd to the Ministry in a flash with just minutes to spare. She would have made it on time had she not run into Adrian Pucey in the lobby. The damn Slytherin with the gorgeous green eyes had asked her out again keeping her in the lobby for five minutes making her late. Hermione Granger hated being late.

She rushed to make the lift to her office on the top floor of the Ministry. Stepping out, she composed herself, slowed her breathing, pasted a smile on her face and walked briskly towards Davis Gentry, her assistant. He rose quickly upon her entrance with a mug of hot tea in hand.

"Ms. Granger, good morning. You're appointment . . ." he rushed.

"Yes, thank you so much Davis. Please see that we're not disturbed. I'll call if I need anything." Hermione smiled at him, taking the tea and glided nonchalantly into her office.

Angry, silver eyes turned to greet her.

"Can't bother to use a watch Granger? I don't know how you managed to finagle such a top job. Your professional behavior is appalling. Tell me, do you keep both the Wizard and Muggle Prime Ministers waiting for meetings as well!?!"

"Good morning Malfoy. Shall we get started?" Hermione smiled as pleasantly as she could and sat gracefully behind her desk motioning for her 'guest' to sit as well.

"We should have gotten started ten minutes ago. My time is valuable Granger and I'm doing the Ministry a favor just by being here. You called this meeting remember?" Malfoy sneered condescendingly as he moved from the window to stand before her desk.

Hermione sighed, leaned back in her chair and studied the one and only Draco Malfoy. He was a damned handsome bastard! The years subsequent the war had been very kind to him. He was tall – at least six feet. Platinum locks shorn to fall in a strategically disheveled way so that his fringe would occasionally swing over his eyes. His eyes – Merlin they were gorgeous, silver-blue irises that could darken or lighten depending on his mood. Goddess, she nearly squirmed as she noticed each and every stunning feature. But notice she did. His body had filled out well too. Gone was the overly lanky boy she knew in school. In his place, was an alphamale with well-defined, strong muscles evident underneath the robes he wore. Draco Malfoy reminded her of a sleek, elegant panther, beautiful yet dangerous. Something always seemed to lurk behind his eyes, letting one know his mind was constantly active. Then there was his voice. It was the voice of her most erotic and daring fantasies, not that she'd ever admit it aloud. Deep, rich, strong, commanding, and oh so masculine –her heart always seemed to beat a bit faster at the mere thought of it. In the secret recesses of her being, she knew she'd do anything that his voice commanded of her, not that Draco would ever do anything like that with her but a girl could dream. Once she'd hidden behind a column at a Ministry Ball, eyes closed, listening to his voice as he chatted up foreign investors and diplomats. His voice alone had enflamed her so much that by the time she'd gone home at the end of evening she had to satisfy herself three times before she could fall asleep. Not that she slept, tossing and turning because of hot dreams chock full of Malfoy all night long until she woke up in a fevered sweat the following morning.

Yes, damn it, Hermione found him attractive. More now than ever because he also seemed truly repentant of the misguided actions of his youth.

Since the war, Draco Malfoy had worked hard to repair the damage to his name. Evidence came to light that showed he'd been forced to help Voldemort under pain of death to himself and his family.

He'd avoided criminal trial for offenses committed during Sixth Year because he'd been underage. Harry's testimony that Draco hadn't wanted to kill Dumbledore certainly helped.

Additionally, his actions of not identifying Hermione and her friends on that horrible night at Malfoy Manor and finally, his mother lying to Voldemort to save Harry had in turn, saved Malfoy. He'd served three years community service, the Malfoy assets frozen until he'd completed his term. His father, Lucius Malfoy had not been so lucky; he'd been sentenced to ten years in Azkaban but had gotten out after five years on good behavior. He was now under house arrest at Malfoy Manor. Narcissa Malfoy had avoided Azkaban but was also monitored closely by the Ministry. The Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, ordered that Draco spend his community service helping to rebuild Hogwarts, as well as, work at various charitable organizations, including a Muggle children's orphanage, all the while living off a small stipend provided by the Ministry. After serving his community service and his money released, he established DM Investments, a Wizard and Muggle capital ventures and financial firm investing in various companies and corporations. It made him richer than before, if that were possible.

Hermione had run into him at various Ministry, business and personal functions. They shared some of the same friends after all. He was charming, funny, interesting and jovial –to everyone but her. Hell, he was even decent to Harry and Ron. However, whenever his path crossed with hers he was disdainful, distant and cold. So very, very cold. Draco Malfoy was certainly not interested in any kind of cordial relationship with Hermione Granger. She would be lying to herself if she said it didn't hurt. At night, alone under her covers, Hermione often wondered why he still treated her with such derision. Why couldn't he be decent? He had made it abundantly clear he still disliked her.

Maybe not because of her Muggle heritage, he didn't care about that as he'd dated quite a few Muggleborn witches. He just didn't seem to like her, Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age. Perhaps it was because she wasn't pretty enough, sophisticated enough or sexy enough. Smart, hell yes, but nothing more.

He was such a shallow arsehole!

Everyone thought he'd changed and the Malfoy name was once again on the rise, becoming respected rather than feared. Of course, attractive good deeds, charming, erudite or not, Hermione knew better, he was still a prat!

Professional smile plastered on her face, Hermione soldiered on. "Yes, well, both the Minister of Magic and the British Muggle Prime Minister appreciate the time . . ."

"Time you've wasted."

Hermione twitched but continued as if he'd never spoken.

". . . you've taken from your busy schedule to listen to our proposal. We hope that it's something that DM Investments would find of interest and consider making a sizable investment to support the venture. In fact, we feel it's something that you might find of great interest yourself and perhaps you might consider giving some of your valuable personal time in assisting us with the project."

Draco stared. Suddenly he took a step back, slowly sank into the plush chair across from her desk crossing his legs and stretched out his long body. His arms were resting lightly on the armrests; a small, smug smirk graced his lips as he eyed her strangely. Hermione felt her cheeks flush and her heart sped up. Why the hell was he staring at her that way? She swallowed, he smirked wider.

"Go ahead then. Impress me."

She blinked. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

"Granger? I'm waiting." His voice soft and still he smirked.

Looking down at her papers, Hermione gathered her wits.

"Ah, yes. Here is a copy of what we would like to propose."

For the next half hour, Hermione described the project the Ministry of Magic and Muggle British Government were keen on implementing. It involved the assimilation of Muggle technology within the Wizarding world. The Muggle world's advancement in the digital, technological and gadgetry field was unsurpassed. It was clear there were many devices, tools and appliances that would benefit the Wizarding world. The idea was to explore, identify and assimilate them into Wizarding society. The goal was to start small with cell phones and laptops but eventually expand into other tools such as desktop computers, kitchen appliances and possibly television. The key to this was finding the right set of spells and charms that would aid in keeping them functioning as the Wizarding world didn't use electricity. It would require a mass amount of initial research and deep pockets before a team of Wizard and Muggle scientists could even be assembled. Not to mention the amount of time and effort in choosing that group of scientists would entail to ensure secrecy and confidentiality.

The screening alone could take months.

If DM Investments agreed to fund the initial research, they would be the primary investor and receive the lion's share of the profits as well as final say on the devices to be marketed with the partnering corporations. The Ministry of Magic and British Government would receive a very tidy sum as well. Other investors would be approached after DM Investments bottom line contribution.

Hermione didn't know who had developed the proposal but she thought it a brilliant idea.

Eyes bright, skin flushed, she radiated excitement and enthusiasm for the venture. With subtle flicks of her wand, she delivered a confident and organized summary including the devices to be researched first with a timeline and potential spells and charms she'd created herself that could be serve as a foundation.

"Well that is everything. Do you have any questions?" Hermione looked up fighting the churn of emotions in her stomach and smiled grimly at the man across from her.

During the entire presentation, Draco hadn't said a word. Not. One. Word. He hadn't looked at the charts, graphs, research, proposal, budget, etc. –not a damn thing. He'd only stared at Hermione. His body had remained in the same position with that blasted smug smirk stuck on his face. To say she was a bit flustered was an understatement. Finally, after several seconds, he leaned forward and dropped her carefully crafted presentation back on her desk.

"Will you be heading up this project?"

Caught off-guard, she answered with a shake of her head. "No, we're in the process of collecting various resumes . . ."

"I want you to head it up."

Silence.

"Well, that would be quite impossible . . ."

"If you want my money, you'll make it possible."

Draco leaned back into his chair, his eyes darkening and the smirk falling from his lips. She could feel a pull in her lower belly as her knickers dampened at his tone.

"I see." Dear gods, his voice made things pull and tighten through her traitorous body.

"No, you don't. Let me be very clear Granger. You want my money; I'll give you my money – the whole fucking amount in fact. That way there is no need for other investors. However, if you want my money, I want you to manage the entire project. You report to me, you work for me, directly."

He wanted her to work for him?

Confused, she attempted to reason with him calmly.

"I'll bring this up with the Minister but in all honesty, I don't know how this will be possible. My role as head of this department is quite demanding and this venture will take up a considerable amount of time."

"I've already spoken to Kingsley in regards to my terms and he's agreed. Money talks after all. He'll cut back your regular workload so you can work evenings and weekends, if necessary, with me at my home."

Red – yes, that's what Hermione saw: blood red, the blood preferably belonging to Draco Arsehole Malfoy.

"You spoke to the Minister about my job? How dare you? You can't do that you egotistical, conceited, goodfor-nothing poser! You are not about to fuck up everything that I've worked for because you want me at your beck and call. You

might have everyone else fooled but not me. I see you for what you are, you fucking wanker! I'll never work for you Malfoy, don't think I won't hex you . . . you arsehole!"

On her feet by the end of her rant, she was stunned as Draco smiled a genuine smile. Wide, eager and happy – the git actually looked happy.

"Aren't you a dirty girl Granger. I was wondering when the real Hermione Granger would surface. Do you kiss your mum with that mouth? Hmm, I wonder how dirty of a girl you really are?" Draco purred in a low, seductive dark voice.

Oh gods, Hermione felt her pussy pulse and desire began to trail down her leg. She clenched her thighs together in an effort to assuage the liquid longing. This couldn't be happening right now, right here in front of him. She needed to gain control.

"Get out of my office, you heavy-handed fuck."

"You have no idea how heavy-handed I can be, Granger." His head tilted as his eyes narrowed,

"But you'll find out, I promise."

"Get out." She hissed as her hand reached for her wand.

Draco rose slowly and adjusted his robes smoothing out non-existent wrinkles.

"You'll have your money; I'm going to fund the entire venture. Your boss has already agreed to my terms, as far as I'm concerned Granger, it's a done deal. I'll have my assistant owl yours to set up an appropriate work schedule."

"Out. Now." Hermione spit out through gritted teeth, her body trembling, her anger barely held in check.

Turning on his heel, he strode confidently to her door and stopped abruptly. Looking over his shoulder he smirked and in a casual voice said,

"Oh and by the way, nice shoes."

He winked, grinned and left.