Another lovely round of first responses. I'm so glad the beginning has intrigued so many. So many of you have read other stories I've written and I'm excited that you've returned. :)
A few notes: I'll be using quite a few flashbacks interwoven and you'll soon understand why. As for the sequence of events, someone asked when this was taking place because of the flashback at the beginning. I've taken a few liberties with the time frame so I don't explicitly state what year the flashbacks are happening. Just know that it's been eight years since the war and that would age everyone to about 26.
Now, here's another chapter to hold you over into next week. I'd love to read your reactions as we dig deeper.
Ice Cold
Draco swung the navy tie around his neck and upturned collar and began the familiar process of tying it. He watched his hands in the mirror as they worked, avoiding his own grey eyes. Looking into them for too long reminded him of his father and the bastard was best left in the past. He didn't like the daily reminders, including the ugly smudge of ink on his forearm, of the things he'd done.
He slid the knot up to his throat neatly and reached up with both hands to check over his hair. Cropped short on the sides, he made sure each strand was comfortably gelled away from his forehead. Even his hair was a daily reminder, a vision of his father. He loathed the idea of it getting even the slightest too long.
After brushing his hands over his shirt and trousers, he exited his bathroom. While his flat was large compared to most, it was reasonably smaller than Malfoy Manor where his mother still resided. He'd moved out as soon as possible after he'd been acquitted during his trial. Nothing about that house felt like home any longer.
Draco slid his arms into his waistcoat, buttoning it swiftly before sliding his arms into his suit jacket. The long robes his father had worn made his skin itch and after just two months on the job in them he'd ditched them for something his mother had deemed just slightly too muggle.
Sod it, he'd said in response. He'd wear whatever he damn well pleased.
After reaching for his briefcase and the file she'd given him before, he took a deep breath as he stood in front of his fireplace.
You're a pathetic little mudblood know-it-all.
You're disgusting, Granger. I'm surprised you don't smell.
Didn't your muggle parents teach you any manners? Move!
Draco closed his eyes against the memories of his words, sneering to himself. He could do this. He could face her. He may be tarnished but he was still a Malfoy and he wouldn't back down from any challenge, particularly not when it meant his job.
He dug his hand into the dish on his mantle and stepped inside. "Ministry of Magic."
~o~O~o~
Hermione stared at herself in the mirror as she straightened her blouse and skirt. She fought with herself over using more concealer to try and mask the small smattering of freckles over her nose or not but ultimately decided against it. He knew they were there anyway. He'd made enough jokes about them when they were younger as it was.
Seeing Draco Malfoy standing in her office yesterday nearly unhinged her from the inside out. However, she'd managed to school her nerves over the years as she emotionally cut out most people outside of her immediate circle. Seeing him again for the first time eight years after the war would not rattle her.
He hadn't insulted her yesterday so that was already an improvement.
With a sigh, she left the bathroom and slipped on her heels. After ten long minutes of examining herself, she couldn't find anything that would explicitly call for any taunting about her appearance.
She made her way through the floo and then the early morning traffic in the Ministry's atrium. She'd beat Everett to the office as she was so early. However, she was surprised to find Draco standing patiently outside her closed office, eyes scanning over the contents of the folder she'd given him.
She took a moment to observe him finally without him knowing. For some stupid reason, she'd half expected he'd look just like his father always had—long blonde hair, regal wizarding robes, and that blasted cane. Yet Draco bore no resemblance to the man's attire. His close cropped blonde hair was brushed back stylishly and he seemed to favor a full three piece suit in place of some of the gaudier wizarding robes many wore to the Ministry. No cane, thankfully.
She loathed to think that he had honestly grown into a handsome man. Too bad he was still Draco Malfoy. That fact alone killed any sort of mental fantasy her mind might have conjured.
"I didn't expect you so early," she muttered by way of greeting as she lifted her wand to release the wards on her office.
Draco lifted his head and nodded in greeting. "I'm a morning person, Granger."
Hermione fought the urge to snort. She never remembered seeing him the Great Hall for breakfast as early as her, always showing up at the last minute to grab some bacon before rushing off to class with everyone else.
Despite this, she didn't comment. She wasn't interested in making conversation or getting to know him now that they were adults. She just wanted to get through this as quietly as possible.
He followed behind her quietly as she entered and rounded her desk to drop her belongings. Her heart jumped in her throat as she watched him reach for the door to close it behind them.
"Leave it!"
The blonde looked up from the folder in his hands abruptly and then glanced at his hand on the door. "Pardon?"
She took a deep breath slowly through her nose and willed herself to relax. "I meant, leave the door open. I don't generally close it."
It was partially true. She did usually leave it open as she had an open-door policy with the aurors to come to her office whenever they needed warrants or legal advice with suspects. However, sometimes it was closed, particularly in the mornings while she focused on gaining her bearings.
But the idea of being behind a closed door alone with Draco Malfoy unnerved her greatly.
He eyed her curiously for a moment but thankfully didn't comment and just shrugged as he opened it wider.
Hermione took up her seat and gestured to the small desk against the adjacent wall. "They brought up your desk yesterday afternoon. It's the best option they had."
Draco snapped the folder shut as he eyed the small wooden desk and accompanying chair. Both were scuffed from years of use and likely had seen better days.
"Didn't expect much better from the Ministry," he quipped and dropped his briefcase unceremoniously on top of it.
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him but didn't comment, instead reaching for the stack of folders she'd put to the side the day before to work on first thing. The less conversation between them the better.
She slowly relaxed and melted into her work, nearly forgetting about the blonde nuisance taking up oxygen in her office. She was reading the fifth page of the document in her hands when his voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Not much of a talker, are you, Granger?"
With a deep breath, she looked up to find his silver gaze focused on her. He had settled himself nicely at the desk, feet propped up on the corner with reading material for the case resting in his lap. He'd lost his suit jacket and sat there in his waistcoat, sleeves thankfully still covering the ugly smudge of magical ink she knew lay under his sleeve.
She didn't like the confident way he was seated or the regal way he was dressed. It was all too familiar, too Draco, and too uncomfortable.
"I wasn't under the impression that I'd been given the responsibility of entertaining you, Malfoy. Pardon my ignorance," she responded drily.
He quirked a lone, pale eyebrow at that and then, surprisingly, smirked without an ounce of malice.
"Just thought you'd have more to say after so many years. But I won't look a gift hippogriff in the mouth."
His calm demeanor and conversational tone rankled her nerves. She ducked her head to her own work again without another word.
Draco frowned at that. He remembered her being fiery and passionate, even when she thought she was hiding it from him growing up. This witch was cold and detached, completely unlike the girl he'd bullied in school.
He'd decided the night before that it might be best to just let her get her past anger and frustrations with him out early than let it fester and affect his work. While he wasn't exactly comfortable apologizing, as he so rarely did it, he knew he more than deserved her ire.
Yet she'd not said a word beyond the basic cordial conversation required of her. Where was the activist who'd fought so hardheadedly for those house elves? The girl who'd been rumored to set Snape's robes on fire their first year when she thought he was controlling Potter's broom? Or the girl who bore holes into his skull with her eyes even when they were clouding with tears from his latest taunt?
Shrugging to himself, he turned his attention to the paperwork in his lap. His silence lasted for roughly fifteen minutes before he went searching through his briefcase for a quill only to find none.
"Oi, Granger," he called out. "Do you have a spare quill I can borrow?"
The witch huffed irritably and lifted her wand. Soon a muggle pen sailed through the air and nearly bonked him between the eyes.
His brow furrowed as he turned the object over in his hands. "A quill, Granger? Not a weird stick."
Hermione lifted her eyes to him finally and glared. "It's a muggle pen, Malfoy. I don't often use quills."
"You did in school," he pointed out with his trademark smirk.
She swallowed and shook her head. "Because it was required. I prefer pens. Try it or don't but it's your choice. It's all you'll find in my office."
With a roll of his eyes, he put the point to the parchment and was surprised by how it wrote by itself without having to be dipped in ink. He scribbled his notes without another complaint. An hour wore on before he felt the need to take a loo break. He set his notes down and glanced over at the quiet witch again.
Hermione was scribbling furiously over one of her employee's reports as she'd been doing all morning, correcting it likely. He was struck by how much it reminded him of their time at Hogwarts.
He watched her from the dark corner of the library, unseen and unheard.
She'd been there for hours, scribbling out her own essay before switching to making annotations to the essays of the two morons she hung out with. They might protect her and shield her from him but they certainly didn't appreciate her.
She was alone in the library but it wasn't an odd occurrence. He was here as well at the same time often but he'd made a secret pact with himself that her library time would be off limits. One of the few gifts he could give to her without her or anyone else's knowledge.
He watched as she sat straight for a moment, stretching out her back from the tension of being hunched over the table for so long. Her unruly curls were falling from the knot at the back of her head and obscuring her dark eyes in the candlelight, the honey color making them shine more than normal.
He bit his lip as he fought the urge within him to run his fingers through them. He knew from the time they'd bumped into each other as first years that they were soft like the silk his mother's best robes were made from.
He watched as she packed up her books then, taking great care with putting the stopper on her ink pot just so. Her brow furrowed when she came across the ripped piece of parchment lying unseen under her ancient runes textbook.
He's an idiot. Don't let his hateful words bother you.
He sighed to himself when she bit her lip, glancing around the library as she always did when she found one of his anonymous notes. It didn't change what he did but perhaps encouraged her not to believe any of it.
He'd called her a hideous troll at lunch and snuck too much newt's eye into her cauldron when she wasn't looking to sabotage her in Potions. The look of utter defeat in her brown eyes twisted his stomach while he laughed himself silly with his housemates.
She tucked the note in the back of her journal where he watched her tuck all of the others and quickly retreated for Gryffindor Tower.
She sat up suddenly to stretch her back and looked up to find his eyes on her. She jumped slightly and narrowed her gaze.
"Did you need something, Malfoy?"
He coughed to clear his throat and nodded. "Yeah, where's the closest loo?"
She gave him a suspicious look but nodded. "Down the hall, first left. Just before the aurors' offices."
"Thanks."
He stood and quickly ducked out of her office. He reached to loosen his tie a bit as he walked and narrowly missed avoiding bumping shoulders with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.
"So he is here," Ron grumbled, shooting a look at his best friend.
"Sorry to disappoint, Weaslebee but I'm here for work not to entertain your empty head."
Harry merely eyed him closely before moving around him, both heading straight for Hermione's office.
Ron glanced back at the blonde but shook his head and rapped his knuckles on Hermione's doorframe.
"Morning, Hermione," he grinned, Harry joining him by his side.
"Morning, Ron, Harry," she gave them her first genuine smile of the day from behind her desk.
"How's the idiot," Ron asked, pointing a thumb over his shoulder as he helped himself to the chair in front of her desk.
She rolled her eyes disapprovingly as he slouched and glanced at Harry who was casually observing the knickknacks on her bookshelf as he always did.
"Oddly professional," she finally answered. "I wasn't sure what to expect really."
She picked up her wand and flicked it when Ron tried to put his feet on the edge of her desk.
"How many times must I tell you, Ronald, to keep your nasty boots off my desk?"
"Sorry," he muttered sheepishly.
Harry snickered to himself and turned to face the two, sticking his hands in his pockets casually. "Ron and I are about to leave to follow up on a lead. Need anything or did you bring your lunch?"
It was a well-known fact to most of the department that Hermione often took her lunch in her office to avoid the chaos of the Ministry's cafeteria. She liked to read on her lunch break and that was nearly impossible with the sounds of Ministry chatter and Ron's loud chewing in the background.
"Could you bring me a sandwich from that deli on Fifth in Muggle London?"
Ron grinned suddenly and nodded along with her. "Yeah, that's the place with the big meatball sub. Let's get lunch there, Harry."
"Always thinking with your stomach, Ron," he chuckled. "Sure, Hermione. Same as usual?"
She nodded and began reaching into her bag for some money but stopped when Harry glared at her.
"Will you never let me buy my own lunch?"
"When you finally find a man, he might," Ron snickered.
Harry slapped the back of Ron's head and shook his head. "You do too much for both of us," he eyed the ginger pointedly, "It's the least I can do."
Draco passed the two thirds of the golden trio on his way out of the bathroom, rolling his eyes at the redhead when he stuck his tongue out at him childishly. He stumbled upon the office's breakroom and stopped when he smelled fresh coffee.
"I'd heard you were here, Draco."
Astoria Greengrass turned to him from the coffee pot and smiled.
Draco offered her one of his rare smiles, relieved to see a familiar face amongst so many skeptical ones in the Ministry.
"It would seem you heard right then," he responded as he poured his own cup. "Do you work in this department?"
Astoria huffed out a laughed and nodded. "For the past four years. But I didn't expect you to know that. You've kept to yourself since the war."
Draco shrugged and turned to face her with his own mug of coffee warming his hands. The two of them had never been especially close, despite their parents at one time hoping to match them.
"Seemed for the best after all that had happened. Most weren't too thrilled that I'd been acquitted." He snorted, "I really don't blame them."
The blonde witch tipped her head curiously as she studied him. "You weren't acting on your own accord from my understanding." She waved a dismissive hand though the air as if pushing the subject away. "I'd heard about the Tilshire case though. Sitting in with Julie Figgins, I'd imagine."
"No, this is a big case. I'm working with Granger."
Astoria paused mid-sip and pulled her mug away from her lips. "Really? Interesting."
He shrugged and took a large swig of his coffee. "What makes you say that?"
"Hm? Nothing really." She glanced at her watch and then moved to grab her paperwork she'd sat on the nearby table. "Why don't we have lunch in the cafeteria today? Catch up a bit?"
Draco nodded, a bit bewildered at her sudden change in demeanor. "Sure. I'll meet you there at noon."
He watched, slightly confused as the witch sauntered off down the hall. With a shake of his head, he sighed and made his way out of the breakroom and back towards Hermione's office.
He paused when he saw her secretary looming outside of her office, an anxious expression on the wizard's face. He looked over his shoulder when he heard Draco approaching and released a tense breath.
"Mr. Malfoy, would you mind giving this file to Miss Granger? She doesn't like being bothered unnecessarily."
Draco lifted a curious eyebrow and accepted the paperwork. "You're her secretary, aren't you? Can't be bothered to do your job," he scowled.
The wizard looked slightly taken aback but squared his shoulders. "Once she's in her office for the day, she dislikes inconvenient interruptions."
"Oh please," he rolled his eyes, "Potter and Weasley were just here and they're anything if not inconvenient."
He swallowed, "They're the exception to the rule, sir." He tipped his head curiously. "I'd heard you went to school with her and fought on opposite sides of the war." Draco's scowl didn't seem to bother him this time. "You must not know her very well though. She doesn't socialize much in the office and from my understanding not much outside of it either."
"And why's that?"
"Haven't a clue, sir. None of my business." He shrugged and marched off for his desk.
Draco stood there for a moment feeling rather bewildered. He glanced back inside her office only to find the witch absorbed in her work again. Everything her secretary had just told him went against what he remembered of Hermione Granger. Granted, that was from their sixth year. That had been the end of their daily run-ins.
With a groan, he reentered the office and tossed the file onto her desk, right on top of what she was working on.
"Your secretary was too afraid to bring that in himself," he grumbled as he took up his seat at the pathetic desk again.
Hermione rolled her eyes at him and moved the file aside to continue her work without a word or glance at him.
"He's incompetent," she mumbled.
"You likely think everyone is incompetent," he snorted as he made notes idly with her muggle pen.
"Only those deserving of the judgement." She lifted her eyes from her work again and focused on him finally. "Is there a point to this idle chatter, Malfoy?"
Draco stared into those brown orbs for longer than was likely appropriate. It had been a long time since he'd had the opportunity and he'd forgotten how dark they turned when she was pressed too far or feeling threatened.
Noting the flare of her nostrils and the purse of her full lips, he gained no satisfaction from knowing he'd riled the witch again.
"No, Granger. Pardon the interruption."
Hushed whispers of long forgotten memories rushed through his mind's eye. The hunch of her shoulders as he trailed her through the hallways, slurs slipping from his tongue like music notes, and the glares of her two best friends whenever they caught him cornering her again.
Draco blinked finally, turning his attention back to his paperwork, intent to keep silent until lunch when he could escape her.
When five til twelve finally came, he stopped examining the gruesome photos of Tilshire's victims and the cringe-inducing reports on the potion he'd developed to render them helpless. He kicked his feet back to the ground and reached for his discarded jacket.
Hermione had hardly moved an inch from her desk except to search for a file in her filing cabinet behind it. She didn't look up when he stood, straightening his suit back into pristine shape.
"Plan on eating that parchment, Granger," he finally spoke again. "It's lunchtime, you know."
"Harry and Ron are bringing me something later," she muttered dismissively.
He rolled his eyes, despite that she didn't even see. "Enjoy then, Bookworm."
He didn't catch the way the corners of her eyes tightened at the mild name-calling, his back already to her as he escaped the quiet office.
~o~O~o~
"Do you ever stop asking questions, you bleeding know-it-all," Draco snarled as they left class.
Hermione whirled around at the sound of the blonde's voice and glared up at him. "Do you ever get sick of calling me names?" When he lifted an amused eyebrow at her, she huffed, "Didn't think so. Sod off, won't you?"
She turned around and continued marching up the stairs to her next class, ignoring the chuckling blonde monster behind her.
"Only when you disappear," he shouted to her back, him and his cronies laughing as they went the opposite direction.
"Bleeding, arrogant prat," she muttered to herself as she clutched her book tighter to her chest.
