Hermione Granger didn't think she'd end up in the Department of International Magical Co-operation. After graduating school, her heart was set on the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and the Ministry had welcomed her with open arms. But by a strange twist of luck, she'd found herself being selected for various liaison programs with other Ministries or the general public itself. The aftermath of the war had left the wizarding world in a fragile state – people wanted to be reassured, comforted. And somehow, Hermione was the one everyone looked up to.
"Hermione. A word?" Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic stuck his head inside her room.
"Minister, of course." Hermione cleared her desk of all the contracts, and folders scattered across it. They landed neatly in a heap on the side.
"As you know, I've been working to create a new image for the Ministry ever since I assumed office. To dispel the pure blood agenda it has been associated with." Hermione nodded in response.
"To that effect, I think it's high time we bring in professionals who know how to do it right. And it's only appropriate that you be the Ministry liaison, because there's one else I trust enough to do this professionally."
"It'd been an honor, sir. But who are the professionals?"
"Malfoy Public Relations Ltd."
There was a silence.
"Draco Malfoy? Lucius Malfoy's son?" Hermione said, finally finding her voice.
"Really, Hermione." Kingsley's voice was tinged with amusement. "How many Malfoys are you aware of in the wizarding world? Young Mr. Malfoy has worked quite hard to establish his company, and even though it's been around only for a couple of years, my advisors assure me it's the best."
Yes, she had been hearing about Malfoy on and off for the past years, but why was she hearing about him so frequently these days?
"I've taken the liberty of setting up a preliminary meeting between the two of you today, at the Ministry at 3 p.m. I look forward to hearing the details." And with a smile, Kingsley strode out of the room.
Hermione sat down, her hands rubbing her temples which had suddenly started to throb. There was a knock at the door for a second time, and she got up quickly thinking Kingsley was back.
"Hey, stranger. It's lunch time." Harry said, grinning down at her.
"Oh, thank god," Hermione sighed, grabbing her purse and walking out with him. "I needed a break."
They made their way out of the Ministry and into Muggle London. There was an Indian restaurant that both of them loved going to (especially without any Weasleys because none of them liked Indian food).
"So I have to tell you something."
"Spill." Harry said, looking over the menu even though they'd order the same thing they always did.
"Have you heard about the new PR initiative the Minister is eager to enforce?"
"Sure." As Deputy Head of the Auror department, there were a lot of things Harry was privy to, but he kept most of them to himself.
"Well, guess who the company he engaged belongs to."
"Uh. Luna?"
"Are you mad?"
"Okay, not Luna. Her husband?"
"No one related to Luna."
"Kingsley himself?"
"Have you EVER heard of a PR firm possibly owned by the Minister?"
"So, no. Hmmm. Justin FF?"
"I don't know why you can't say his full name, and no."
"Mafalda Hopkirk?"
"Harry! Where are you getting all of this from?"
"Fine! I give up. Who is it?"
Hermione felt her cheeks warm, and she didn't even know why.
"Draco Malfoy."
Harry burst out laughing. "Are you serious?"
"What's so funny in that?" she said, bristling.
"It's funny that we went years without actively talking to him to him being actively involved in most of our lives. God, I wish Ron was here. That would've been funny."
Hermione laughed, sipping her cola from the glass bottle. "I miss him."
Harry's eyes softened, and he bowed his head down for a moment, and Hermione knew he missed Ron more than she ever would. Honestly, it was no joke trying to fill in Ron Weasley's shoes. It was exhausting.
"Well, another month more, and he's back." Harry said, accidentally dropping his wand from the pocket of his long black coat. The two of them always Transfigured their wizarding clothes to Muggles ones before stepping into London. Sparks shot out of his wand, and the nearby patrons started.
"Sorry," he said, stowing it away, "Taser…like thing."
"Taser? Seriously?" Hermione said, trying to stop laughing.
"Well, you think of a Muggle device which can accidentally emit sparks."
"I'm too famished to think, sorry."
Right across the street, Draco Malfoy was making his way towards the Ministry. People might think it was odd behavior (especially from him), but sometimes, he loved to walk through Muggle London. After the war ended, the wizarding world hadn't exactly been jumping to welcome the Malfoys back, but he'd worked hard to establish his reputation. Back in the day, the narrow confines of the magic got too much for him, and he started escaping to London, and gradually, it became almost customary of him to walk through it.
He was quickly cleared by the witch at the reception desk (she actually couldn't move fast enough and she also tried to touch him, a lot). Draco Malfoy had become somewhat of a ladies' man, the same reputation he enjoyed at Hogwarts. Words of his conquests were reported in Witch Weekly very religiously, but he preferred to keep his private life to himself. As he passed through the halls, in his crisp black robes, a small briefcase which was his one Muggle possession, people stopped to take a look. His slicked back hair had given way to a slightly messier look, and with his chiseled jaw and the striking grey eyes, it was a wonder women didn't swoon all over the place.
He reached the Department of International Magic Cooperation, where he was whisked off to a corner office with a young boy sitting outside. Granger's receptionist. He also looked vaguely familiar, and when he looked up, the resemblance giving away his identity.
"Mr. Malfoy, good afternoon," Teddy Lupin smiled, gesturing towards a seat. "She's just out to lunch, she'll be with you shortly."
"Thanks", he said, and sat down.
Hermione Granger wasn't someone who crossed his path very often, but of course he'd heard of her. She was a war veteran, and highly respected. Few could match her credibility, and he wasn't very surprised the Ministry had announced her as the liaison.
Brown hair, unruly. Large brown eyes. Head scrunched over books in the library. Defiant in the face of death. Screaming on the floor of his house.
He shook his head. No need for that image.
The door to his office flew open. "Oh god, James, sorry I'm late, your father is such a bad influence, I'm going to kill him…." said a flustered voice, obviously Ms. Granger. He stood up to announce himself.
"Oh, you're here." She said, turning to face him. "Good afternoon!"
Brown hair, twisted into a loose chignon. Small heels. Dark green witch robes, which somehow seemed to hug her curves just right. The freckles across her face. No makeup. And those big, brown eyes.
Draco swallowed. This was going to be interesting.
A/N: I hope you like this chapter! Please leave a review, thanks for reading! x