Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize is mine.

"Mudblood," Draco offered as greeting.

"Ferret," Hermione returned, nodding coolly at her arch-enemy and entering Mr. Pembroke's office once more. Malfoy was looking particularly smug and repulsive, stretched out in a chair like he hadn't a care in the world. She knew this had to be a show for her, as there was no way he was unconcerned by his father's demands. She hadn't seen him up close in while, and he had definitely grown up; the spoiled boy she remembered was replaced with a rather imposing man. His hair had grown a little since their Hogwarts days and he had filled out; his features, though still rather pale and pointy, were more mature than they had been. He was very tall; almost as tall as Ron, she realized. He had never looked that tall to her at school. She knew he had not been living well since the war, but he did not look poor or defeated, merely...experienced, she decided. He still looked as unpleasant and unappealing as she remembered, though.

"I've got to ask, Granger," Draco said, looking her up and down. "Ever since I heard that detestable will, I can only come to one conclusion. Were you sleeping with my father? You were, weren't you? I should have known you weren't as perfect as you always pretended. I guess Weasley gave you the taste for purebloods, right? Does he know he was sharing you? You must have been pretty good if my father left you that much money. Personally, I wouldn't have been able to keep my breakfast down, but I suppose if you put a bag over your head -"

Hermione slapped him across the face, an action she had been dying to repeat for the last eleven years. "Shut your mouth, Malfoy. He was your father - it's not my fault you didn't know he was a raving lunatic. And I'll be sure to tell your mother you think so little of her ability to manage her husband."

Draco rubbed his cheek, eying her with more amusement than anger. She was quite easy to rile up. He suspected continually getting the better of her was the only thing that would keep him going for the next year. That, and the promise of one helluva payday at the end. Hopefully, of course, none of it would be necessary since Draco intended on waking up from this nightmare very soon. Any second now.

"Please keep this civil," Mr. Pembroke said with a pained expression on his face. "If you kill each other neither one of you gets the money."

"Excuse me," said Hermione. "Tell Mr. Malfoy that if he calls me mudblood one more time I'm calling the whole thing off."

"Call it off!" Draco exclaimed. "Please, call it off, Granger. All the money will go to my mother, and I know she'll give some to me. Mudblood, mudblood, mudblood - is that enough for you?"

"Control yourself, Draco," Narcissa Malfoy said, sweeping into the room. She looked her normal self - haughty, self-possessed and coldly beautiful. There was little evidence on her face that she had cried herself to sleep for the last two weeks. "And don't be so sure of what I will or will not do."

"Mother?"

"Your father's wishes must be respected, Draco," she said. "I'm sorry, dear, but he must have had his reasons for this... situation. I'll not go against them by handing money over to you, nor will I allow you to throw away what he wanted for you. Your father was obviously trying to test you, and son, you will have to pass this test to receive your inheritance."

"This is outrageous!" Draco shouted. "Why should I have to bow and scrape for my birthright? Father never had to pass any sort of muggle-centric test to get his hands on the Malfoy money. I'm his only child!"

"Your father had access to his trust fund, Draco," his mother said. "He also worked and invested the family money."

"Well isn't that just ducky," he sneered. "In case you've forgotten, Mother, your perfect husband sullied our family name so badly I haven't been able to get a job since the war. He had his money to fall back on - what am I supposed to do? He would have let me starve in the street if you hadn't given me some galleons these last few years."

Hermione watched this exchange, fascinated. If she separated her feelings about Malfoy from the actual situation, it did seem rather unfair.

"None of us are innocent, Draco," Narcissa stated. "Remember that. I'm going to have to insist that you obey your father and work for - Miss Granger, is it?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes - Mrs. Malfoy knew full well what her name was - but bit back a reply and merely nodded.

"If we can continue," said Mr. Pembroke, "without any more interruptions or name calling, I would be most appreciative." He was greeted with more sullen glares, but nobody objected. "Excellent. Now, the terms of Mr. Malfoy's will are clear. Draco must work as Miss Granger's assistant for a term of one year. During that time, as long as Draco fulfills his work duties, Miss Granger is unable to fire him. At the end of the year, if both have behaved accordingly, Draco gets his inheritance and S.P.E.W. keeps the original endowment. In addition, Miss Granger will receive a personal amount of one million galleons."

"You didn't tell us that!" Draco said. "It's bad enough her smelly old elves are getting money! Why should she get any?"

"It's probably payment for putting up with you for a year," Hermione said, equally shocked. Mr. Pembroke had not mentioned this condition the day before.

"You were sleeping with him, weren't you?" Draco accused, rounding on Hermione. "Mother, are you going to stand by and allow this?"

"Draco, please stop insulting me," said Narcissa. "Your father was most assuredly not carrying on with Miss Granger, or any other woman. If you do not stop protesting, you'll end up with nothing, do you hear me?"

Draco nodded, too angry to speak. How dare that little mudblood? How dare his mother? There was a conspiracy against him; that was plain. His father's death must have driven his mother crazy; no other explanation was possible. Of course, his father was obviously crazy, too, and here he was, on the verge of madness himself. Oh, he was going to dance on his father's grave, that was for sure.

"Are you both clear on the terms?" Mr. Pembroke asked, eager to end their meeting.

"Not really," said Hermione. "It said I can't fire Malfoy if he fulfills his duties - what exactly does that mean?"

"Mr. Malfoy will be acting as your assistant," said Mr. Pembroke. "He must carry out that position according to your company's pre-existing policy. He must complete any and all job assignments and act as your second-in-command at the office. You are not permitted to assign him duties outside the normal, acceptable role an assistant would play. However, there is no clause within the will for civility. As long as he follows your orders, he doesn't have to be nice to you, and vice versa."

"He can't call me mudblood at work!" said Hermione, outraged. "I won't have it!"

"Mudblood, mudblood, MUDBLOOD!"

"Mudblood would be considered harassment, and therefore would not be tolerated," said Pembroke, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Everything else is fair game. One can only hope you'll both act in a professional matter."

"Well, then she can't call me Ferret!" Draco said childishly.

"Fine," Hermione snapped. "I won't call you Ferret - at work, anyway."

"Then I won't call you mudblood at work," he returned.

"That's a start," sighed Mr. Pembroke.

"So what happens if we decide we can't work together?" asked Hermione.

"If Mr. Malfoy is fired for a legitimate reason, such as dereliction of duty, then S.P.E.W. keeps the money. If you let him go for any other reason, he gets all the money."

"What is this - a game of who caves first?" said Hermione.

"No, Miss Granger, it is an opportunity for you both," Narcissa declared. "If this experiment is successful, your little elf organization will be set for life. In addition, Draco's name will be restored to its proper place and the Malfoys will once again be a respected, influential family."

"I think that was Mr. Malfoy's intention, yes," said Mr. Pembroke. "It appears he wishes some redemption from his previous actions, both for him and his son. Would you agree, Mrs. Malfoy?"

"It certainly looks that way. I can't say I would have endorsed this idea, had I previous knowledge of it, but I will respect my husband's wishes."

"I can't offer that redemption," said Hermione.

"That's not for you to give, Granger," Draco growled. "I don't need your forgiveness, or your pity."

"Good, because you'll never get either," she returned. "Are we finished here?"

"Perhaps you could prepare young Malfoy for his first day," suggested Mr. Pembroke. He was curious to see what the muggle-born witch had in store for her nemesis.

"Fine," she sighed. "I suppose it'll save us the time on Monday."

"Oh yes, do regale me with the goings on of elf-saving, Granger."

"We work from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. Monday through Friday. You get an hour for lunch. Sometimes we have to work late, and we work one Saturday a month. You get to take that extra time as comp whenever you want, but you have to work those days. You get five sick days and two weeks vacation, plus your comp time. I run this as a legitimate business, so it's imperative that you are at work on time. My previous assistant handled all of my correspondence and my scheduling. She was more than just an assistant. She attended all meetings and conferences with me and we worked closely together."

"No wonder she quit."

"She didn't quit, you moron, you're replacing her," Hermione reminded him. "I've got to create another position for Robin, but she's earned a promotion, I daresay."

"How many people do you have working for spew?" Draco asked. This whole deal sounded even worse than he first feared.

"Seven."

"Seven people?" he scoffed. "And you need your own bloody assistant? What the hell do you guys do all day, Granger, paint portraits of Dobby? Does your assistant spend her time fetching you tea and biscuits? Should I bring a silver platter to work with me in the morning? This is a complete joke."

"For your information, Malfoy, we happen to - oh never mind!" Hermione said, exasperated. "I'll tell you the rest on Monday. Mr. Pembroke, may I please go?"

"Of course," he said. "Please contact me if you have any questions or if problems arise. Always talk to me before rash decisions are made, agreed?"

"Yes, thank you," she concurred. "I'll see you Monday, Malfoy. Be on time. Mrs. Malfoy, good evening."

Hermione left the room, and the three people heard a pop as she apparated away.

"You'd think that she'd be a little more grateful," Narcissa observed.

"That's a muggle for you, Mother," Draco said nastily. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get ready for my funeral. I'll be staying at Theo's for the foreseeable future, Mother. I wouldn't want to disobey Father's orders by allowing you to house me. I guess I'll get a place as soon as Granger gives me my first paycheck. Damn! I didn't ask how much I was getting. Probably Weasley-wages." With that, Draco was gone, too.

"Good luck, Mr. Pembroke," Narcissa said. "I've no doubt you'll be hearing from both of them rather often."

"That's what I'm afraid of. Good evening, Mrs. Malfoy."

X X X X

"Hermione, are you on something?" Ron asked worriedly. "You're not making any sense. Malfoy what?"

"I have to employ Ferret Bloody Malfoy! Scourge to elves and nice people everywhere! Lucius Malfoy is blackmailing me from beyond the grave. I'm going to go stark raving mad before the week is out, I just know it! Oh my Lord, I have to look at his albino face every day for the next year. No, no, no, no, no. It's not worth it, it's not worth it, it's-"

"Hermione, what in the blazes are you talking about?" Hermione had just flooed into his apartment, worked up into a near apoplexy. She was covered in soot, her hair was standing straight up and her face was red with rage. In all honesty, she did not make an attractive picture at the moment, and Ron was feeling rather glad they had ended things – he would certainly hate to be on the receiving end of her anger. That didn't mean he didn't still love her, of course, or that he wasn't concerned for her sanity at the moment. If she would just start making some sense...

"Lucius Malfoy left me money in his will," she said, switching to a deceptively calmer voice. "He left it to S.P.E.W. Only he thought it would be funny to torture me instead of doing one good deed in his whole miserable life. He's making Malfoy work for me. With me. For. A. Whole. Year."

Much like Hermione and Draco before him, Ron was speechless.

"Yeah, it's pretty good, huh?" Hermione railed. "Can you believe this? He must have been even more evil than we thought. Honestly, Ron, what am I supposed to do?"

"Tell Malfoy to shove his money up his arse," said Ron, regaining his ability to talk.

"It's thirty-two million galleons."

"Sweet Merlin, Hermione!" Ron exploded, quickly changing his tune. "You better take that money and run! I don't care if you have to work with You-Know-Who or even the Dursleys! It's thirty-two million galleons!"

"I know," she said miserably. "But Malfoy..."

"Malfoy nothing," he said firmly. "You let me and Harry take care of Malfoy. He won't do a thing to you while we're around. You can't pass this up."

"I can't have you and Harry fighting my battles for me."

"Then fight them yourself. You can not pass this up."

"Are you sure? This is really a nightmare, right? Pinch me. Hit me. Throw me in a lake."

"Hermione Granger, are you a Gryffindor or not?"

"I'm a Gryffindor," she said miserably.

"Then act like it."

"I don't want to," she whined.

"Hermione."

"Fine," she sighed. "You're right, of course. It's just… Alright, I'm going to bed; my doom begins Monday. I have to talk to Robin tomorrow; I'm sure she's going to have a conniption."

"Soften the blow by telling her I'll take her out."

Hermione chose to ignore that remark; couldn't he see now wasn't the time to tease her? "Tell Harry for me, alright? I can't even speak the words again."

"Of course I will," he said, going over to her and wrapping her in a hug. She leaned against him, completely worn out. "Don't worry, okay? I mean, of course you'll worry, and so will I. I wouldn't want to spend two seconds with that git. But think of all the good that money will do."

She nodded. It was the only thing keeping her going. She gave him a grateful peck on the cheek and flooed home.

After she was gone, Ron sank into a chair, looking at the fireplace. In truth, he was far more worried than he had let on; Hermione having close, continued contact with Malfoy was just not a good thing. Who knew what sort of mischief he would cause?

Still, it would be crazy for her to turn her back on that kind of money. Hermione would simply have to be at the top of her game, and he and Harry would have to start dropping by her office more frequently. Surely Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes would have some "deterrents" for Malfoy in stock. He knew, though, that as grateful as Hermione would be for his support, he would have to walk a fine line so she didn't think he was meddling. It was still in their nature to turn to the other in times of stress and need, which was why she had rushed to see him that evening. Despite breaking up, the two were entwined together; their friendship and love would never weaken, no matter what they had been through. However, if she had been irritated by his jealousy and hot temper while they were together, she absolutely loathed it now. If she thought he was overstepping his boundaries, she would banish him from her office, Malfoy or not. He'd have to be careful to be supportive without suffocating her, something he hadn't quite managed in their fourteen years of friendship. Ah well. There's a first time for everything.