Disclaimer: All belongs to JKR.
Hermione was in her office by five o'clock Monday morning. She couldn't sleep at all, so she finally got up at four, frazzled and restless. She wanted to get there early - no sense in letting Malfoy get the drop on her - but now that she was actually sitting in her chair she had no idea what to do. She tried to compile a list of things for Malfoy, but realized that she didn't really want to give him any responsibility. At the same time, she couldn't expect Robin, her previous assistant, to do her new job and Malfoy's as well. She would have to start trusting him with Robin's duties, and sooner rather than later. For the most part, Robin did the same things Hermione did, but in the beginning she'd completed all the menial office work. Perhaps they could start small; surely Malfoy could take notes and make copies, right? Shaking her head, Hermione knew she didn't even want him doing that for her. Her list looked like this:
Make copies - who knows if they'll be the right ones? He might change something crucial. And he'll probably sign it Mudblood Granger
Answer floos - hmmm. He'd probably scare anyone floo-ing in.
Send out flyers - no, they might have pictures of dead house elves on them surrounded by smiley faces. Keep Veronica on that?
Take dictation - he'll probably be as accurate with my words as the beetle
Assist with speech-writing - he'll call for an end to the color red
Attend conferences - God, do I want him anywhere near me?
Schedule meetings - he'll have me meeting with giants in Albania or worse. And he'll probably cancel all of my dates with Harry and Ron.
Answer correspondences - not bloody likely! No doubt he'll tell everyone to piss right off... Wait should I give him these things to do so I can fire him? No, that might backfire... Why am I even writing this shit down?
Hermione put down her quill and let a huge sigh. This was not productive.
When Hermione flooed Robin the day before, she had given her the good news first. She told Robin how much she meant to S.P.E.W. and how it was high time Hermione gave her more responsibility and power. Robin had been ecstatic when Hermione told her about her promotion - Head of Public Relations and Fund Raising. Robin was good with people and passionate about their work; in truth, Hermione should have promoted her long ago. Robin was poised to become Hermione's equal in a year or two, and Hermione's complete reliance on Robin had been the only thing keeping her back. She shuddered to think she might have that same dependence on Malfoy soon.
As if he'll even be able to get my tea right.
When Hermione dropped the rest of the bomb, Robin had been quiet for several moments. Finally, she told Hermione that there was no way they could refuse the money, Malfoy or not. She expressed reserve about working with the Slytherin, but urged Hermione to put aside her hatred of Malfoy and focus on what the money would do for house elves, which was sound advice from a sensible girl. If only Hermione could take it. She couldn't help feeling the money was tainted in some way, and she was still worried that it would turn out to be some elaborate ruse. She half-expected him to burst through her door, hexing her and everyone else he saw. She knew she was being silly, but God - Malfoy? She simply couldn't get past it.
At seven o'clock, Hermione was still sitting at her desk. Her nervous, miserable fingers had unknowingly shredded twenty pieces of parchment; her eyes were fixed on the clock, watching each second tick by.
"Now, how did I know you would already be here?" an amused voice said, making her jump. Robin Westinghouse came in the room, pulling up a chair beside her boss's desk. Robin was a year older than Hermione; she had been in Ravenclaw and had left a promising career at the Ministry to work with S.P.E.W. Robin came from mixed blood; her mother's side was pureblood for several generations; her father was muggle born. Robin had seen her own grandparents mistreat their house elves when she was younger, and was eager to make amends and elevate her favorite magical creatures' status in the wizarding world. Her own best friend was an elf named Violet. Hermione liked her a lot - Robin was clever, personable and dedicated to their cause.
"I've been here since five," Hermione admitted.
"I figured as much," Robin said. "I almost came in that early to check on you, but I couldn't drag my butt out of bed. I think you must have been projecting your Malfoy nightmares on me. I woke up in a cold sweat at two o'clock, fearing for my filing."
"Oh, Lord, I didn't even think about the filing!" Hermione groaned, running a hand through her frizzy hair. Well, getting her hand caught in her hair was a more accurate description. She spent a moment untangling her hand from her mop of hair, keeping her eyes on the door all the while. It would be just like Malfoy to come in and see her in such a humiliating state.
"It's called conditioner, Hermione," Robin said wryly. "Check it out once in awhile."
Hermione glared at Robin's sleek brown hair. "I do use it, I just forgot this morning. We can't all wake up looking polished and perfect, now can we? I had other things on my mind, you know. Your impeccable filing system being manhandled by Slytherins is now at the top of that list."
"Well, maybe he'll want to keep it how it is," Robin said hopefully. "It's bound to make things easier for him."
"Aye, but there's the rub. Malfoy doesn't care about easy for him. He only cares about what's difficult for me."
Robin looked at Hermione sympathetically. At Hogwarts, she'd had very little interaction with either Hermione or Draco Malfoy. She'd known of them, of course - who at Hogwarts didn't? Robin had never cared for Malfoy's brand of boasting, but she'd not been particularly fond of Hermione, either. She had admired the Gryffindor, of course; Hermione's cleverness and close ties to Harry Potter recommended her greatly, but Robin had never felt any real friendliness on Hermione's part the few times they had spoken. She had wanted to be a part of Dumbledore's Army when Cho and Marietta told her about it, but feared she would not be welcome, and had therefore stayed away. She had graduated before the Battle of Hogwarts, but as the daughter of a muggle-born, she knew just how much she owed to Harry, Ron and Hermione. Her father had been safely hidden in France, but Robin remembered worrying for all of her schoolmates, especially Hermione during that horrible year. Despite their limited acquaintance and her cool feelings towards the girl, it had sickened her every time she saw Hermione's face on a wanted poster, and she had been sincerely relieved that she had escaped capture. Now that she knew Hermione better, Robin liked her very much and regretted not spending time with her at school. Perhaps Malfoy had improved, too.
"Robin, I'm sorry to ask you this, but-"
"Of course I'll help you train Malfoy. This is going to be a huge transition for all of us."
"Thank you," Hermione said gratefully. "I really don't know what I would do without you."
"Let's not find out, shall we? Put some Sleekeazy in your hair, run a comb through it and I'll grab us some tea. You need to look on your game this morning."
She nodded. "Malfoy's probably going to put pepper in my tea, isn't he?"
"Probably," Robin said. "You might want to start getting it yourself."
"I suppose since I'm liberating house elves I should have always gotten my own tea, huh?" she asked, suddenly embarrassed.
"I like making your tea, Hermione," Robin assured her. "Besides, you make me tea half the time, too; no one waits on anyone else in this office, so don't give yourself a complex. We're a team, right?"
"And now I have to include the damn ferret in that team."
Robin giggled; although she'd only heard of the incident second hand, she imagined that Draco Malfoy as a ferret had been quite the sight to behold.
"Hermione, it's worth it, trust me. This is going to make a huge difference for S.P.E.W., and you know it. Now come on. Make yourself pretty."
"That's easier said than done," drawled a very unwelcome voice from the hallway. Malfoy lounged in Hermione's doorway, looking as comfortable as he would have been in the Slytherin common room. "The girl's a witch, not a miracle worker."
"You're early," said Hermione, ignoring his slight.
"I'm catching the worm, Granger," he replied. "From the looks of you, I'd say you've been here since Friday. Do you sleep on your head? That's the only conclusion I can come to."
"This is my real hair, Malfoy. We can't all wear bleached wigs, now can we?"
"Jealousy doesn't become you," he retorted, unfazed. "Green's not really your color. I'm sorry you weren't gifted with naturally perfect hair like I was. Who's your friend? Are you going to introduce us, or are your muggle manners showing through?"
One...two...three...four...
Hermione closed her eyes and counted slowly to ten. "Robin Westinghouse, this is Draco Malfoy. You've not met before?"
"I'm sure I would remember," Draco smarmed, giving Robin a rakish smile.
"We went to school together for six years, Malfoy," she returned, not smiling. "We've met several times. I was a year ahead of you in Ravenclaw."
Draco turned red. The girl did look vaguely familiar, but how was he supposed to remember every stupid Ravenclaw he ever met? Slytherins weren't big on house unity after all. The only people he associated with outside his House were Scarhead, Weasel and Granger, and that was just to torment them. "My apologies," he tried to recover. "I was a bit of a prat back then. Just ask Granger."
"Just ask anybody," Hermione mumbled.
"No problem," Robin replied magnanimously. She would have to at least try to get along with him. "Welcome aboard. I'm sorry for your loss, but we're very grateful to your father's contribution. This is a wonderful organization, as I'm sure you'll learn. I was about to get us some tea. Would you like some?"
"Thank you," he accepted. "For the tea and the condolences. Congratulations on your promotion, by the way. I see my coming here is beneficial for you, and I'm sure we'll be spending a lot of time together while you train me, right?" Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad. Of course, he hadn't gotten off on the right foot with the pretty Ravenclaw, and Granger was doubtless maligning him to her; still, he could be charming to non-mudbloods. Maybe she'd come around.
"I don't wish to force you on anyone else," Hermione said, "but Robin will help me train you. I'm sure she'll be a good resource for you."
"I'm sure she will be," Draco smirked again.
"Gross," Hermione gagged. "Robin, are you really going to leave me alone with him right now?"
"Better get used to it." Robin gave her another sympathetic smile and went to get their tea. As soon as she was gone, Draco turned to Hermione with a nasty sneer.
"You'd think having a well-groomed assistant would have rubbed off on you, Granger. I think I see a quill or ten stuck in that bird's nest on your head. Should I stick all of your memos in there as I get them?"
"I'd rather you stick them up your ass," Hermione snapped.
"Now, now, Granger, how will you be able to read them from there?" he replied.
"Can we just get started?" Hermione asked wearily. "We have a lot to cover today. Or would you rather wait until eight o'clock? You're very early."
"Nah, let's get a jump on things," Draco answered. "Do I have an office or do I have to share this pig sty with you?"
One...two...three...deep breath.
"Your desk is outside; you can decorate it anyway you like. I don't have a fireplace in here, as you can see, so it's your responsibility to handle all of the floos that are for me. We have a few meetings later in the week but I cleared everyone's schedule for this morning so you can get acclimated and meet them."
"Ooo, I can decorate my desk?" Draco asked scathingly, ignoring her diplomatic tone. "Can I put up a calendar of fancy hippogriffs?"
"You can put up a calendar of Snape's balls for all I care," Hermione bit out. "Are you going to listen to what I have to say or are you going to be giant git all day?"
"Can't I do both?"
She was saved from answering from the re-emergence of Robin. Robin could tell that even her short absence had resulted in a fight between the former schoolmates. She realized she'd have to act as referee for the two of them, at least for awhile. Oh, joy: nothing like working with professionals.
"I really can't leave you two alone, can I?" Robin ventured, laying the tea tray on Hermione's desk. Draco winked at her and grabbed a biscuit. She tried to look disapproving, but couldn't help giving him a small smile back.
"He's impossible, Robin," Hermione complained as if she were a first year talking to McGonagall.
"He's only been here for ten minutes, Hermione."
"It feels like ten years."
"Hermione, it'll be fine, you just have to get used to him," Robin soothed her.
"I am still here, you know."
"Yes," said Hermione, closing her eyes. "But I keep praying that I'll wake up and you won't be."
"You think I want to rescue house elves, Granger? You think I want to take orders from the most stuck up girl to ever darken Hogwarts' doorstep? How do you expect me to act, like St. Scarhead? You know me better than that."
Robin stilled Hermione's retort with a hand on her arm. "Look, Malfoy, of course you don't want to be here. Frankly, no one wants you here, either. But we play the hands we're dealt, do we not? I happen to be devoted to this cause, as is everyone else. The money's not going to do anyone any good if you two can't work together. You might not like Hermione, and that's your right, but none of us will put up with you shirking your duty, is that clear?"
"Crystal, General Westinghouse," Draco saluted. "Granger, are you sure you're the boss and not this girl?"
"I'd love it if Robin was in charge of you," Hermione allowed. "And she's completely right, as usual. We're grown-ups, Malfoy, are we not? Surely we can act like it."
"I guess," he said unconvincingly. "But I don't care how much the rest of you bleeding hearts love those big eyed little freaks. I do not and will not like house elves. Period. They're creepy, they're annoying and they're beneath me. Now I'd appreciate it, Boss Lady, if you could tell me what else I have to do besides answer the floo every time Weasley needs an afternoon quickie."
God, it was going to be a long year.