"Next!" Draco called. As he yawned, he watched as another young woman exited his office disappointedly. Emma opened the door soon after with a grumpy expression and let another primped (and slightly plastic-looking) girl through.
"Take a seat," Draco said, smirking at Emma, who looked like she was about to murder someone.
"Last one, Malfoy. Malcolm and Kevin will be done in about five minutes." Emma slammed the door shut, and Draco could hear her heels clicking angrily. She had been in an awful mood since she walked in on a particularly attractive brunette touching Draco's leg a few hours previously.
"So what's your name?" Draco asked, dipping his quill in the inkpot for what seemed like the thousandth time.
"Orla Quirke."
"Interesting name."
"I'm an interesting person," Orla said seductively, crossing one long leg over the other and lifting her skirt up an inch.
"Erm, okay, can you tell me what experience you have?" Draco asked, ignoring Orla's obvious intentions.
"I've worked in Mother's bakery every summer since I turned thirteen."
Draco scribbled a sentence and narrowed his eyes at his pouting interviewee. She was trying to be alluring, but Draco thought she looked like a duck.
"How old are you, Orla?"
"I'm nineteen," Orla told him quietly, biting her lip and twirling her blonde hair between her slender fingers.
"And why did you apply today?" Draco pressed.
"Well, I've been told I'm very creative in… certain aspects." She winked, making Draco cringe.
"All right," Draco sighed, "we're done here."
Orla squeaked and looked forlorn as Draco screwed up his parchment and aimed it at the bin.
"Please, Draco, I need this job, my parents are kicking me out unless I find a proper job." Orla leapt out of her seat as Draco rose from his, leaning across the desk and grabbing onto his suit lapels.
"Emma will be in touch," Draco said firmly, prising Orla's fingers from his expensive clothing.
"Please, give me a chance," Orla begged. "I'll do anything!" She fumbled with her blouse and clumsily opened it, revealing her black lacy bra in desperate earnest.
Draco lifted his hand up in an attempt to protect her modesty. "Go home, Orla," he said quietly.
Tears brimmed in Orla's eyes, and she rushed out of the office, buttoning back up her top as she did so. An astounded Emma appeared in the doorframe moments later, a questioning look on her face as Draco sat back down and straightened his jacket.
"I haven't seen one serious candidate all day," Draco sighed.
"Malcolm and Kevin said the same," Emma said, stretching and planting herself on the interview chair.
"What I don't get is why they're bothering to apply in the first place." Draco raked his hands through his hair and stifled another yawn.
"It's obvious, isn't it?" Emma asked incredulously.
"Not to me," Draco replied sulkily.
"They're applying because you're the famous bad boy, Draco Malfoy. Handsome, rich, stylish… you've got it all. Or so I'm told…" Emma stopped, flustered.
Draco's cheeks tinged pink. "Oh."
"Anyway, I wouldn't give up hope just yet. Whitby's interviewing the last candidate at the moment, and I know she'd be perfect for the job," assured Emma.
"That's great!" Draco exclaimed. "Who is she?"
"You won't like her," Emma admitted grimly.
"I don't think that's an issue."
"It's –"
"Boss?" Kevin interrupted at the door.
"What is it, Whitby?" Draco asked impatiently.
"I know it's a bit premature for me to say, boss, but I think we've found our Creative Director," Kevin told him excitedly.
"Go on."
"Right, she's intelligent, she's your age, she's already done some fantastic work at the Ministry, and she's got some great ideas for this place. Plus, well, see for yourself." Kevin beamed and pulled the woman that was waiting patiently outside into the room.
"–Hermione Granger," Emma finished.
Hermione had never been so humiliated in her entire life. Why didn't she realise? The company's name was MTM… Creative Director… exciting new products… it was so obvious now. When Kevin had taken her into his tiny office, he had seemed very surprised to see her there, and now she knew why. How hadn't she figured out the connection? Now, Malfoy would think she actually wanted to work for him, or that she wanted to apologise for Monday! But no, she'd storm out of the building and never look back.
Hermione realised she was staring at Draco and regained her composure whilst Kevin looked on nervously, sensing tension between the two.
"Boss?" he asked timidly.
"Sorry, Kevin, Emma," Draco said, not taking his eyes off Hermione. "Can you give Miss Granger and me a moment, please?"
The duo exited the room swiftly, throwing curious glances over their shoulders. As the door clicked shut, Draco moved so quickly towards Hermione that she thought he might attack her, and she raised her wand defensively.
"What do you think you're –?"
"Relax, Granger, I'm not going to hurt you," Draco snapped, eyeing up her wand.
Hermione frowned but lowered her wand until it rested at her side.
"Why are you here?" Draco demanded.
"Well, I saw the job in the Daily Prophet–"
"No, really, Granger?" Draco said sarcastically.
"Shut up and let me finish, Malfoy," Hermione replied angrily. "I–I saw the advertisement and thought it would really annoy you if I came to interview for something so… creative." Hermione was surprised at herself for lying so easily.
"What are you talking about, Granger?" Draco asked, his top lip curling with disgust.
"Last time we met, you insulted my creativity. Now look, I applied for the role of Creative Director, and your researcher was ready to give me the job right there and then!" Hermione told him triumphantly, hoping she had become better at concealing the truth since her childhood. As she didn't like to lie, she didn't do it often, meaning it wasn't one of her finest talents.
"So, you did all of this to... spite me?" Draco asked disbelievingly.
"That's the general idea, yes. It shows that I can be–"
"A terrible liar?" Draco interrupted, slowly pacing around the room and watching Hermione squirm. "The thing is, Granger, you couldn't have known that I wouldn't be interviewing you. This means you either wanted to work for me or… you didn't realise that it was my company at all. And seeing as you made your opinion of me quite clear, I'm going to guess that it was the second option."
Hermione's mouth opened in astonishment. Obviously I can't lie, then. "Who are you meant to be, Sherlock Holmes?" she asked mockingly.
"Who the fu–"
"You were right about one thing though," Hermione carried on furiously, ignoring Draco's looks of confusion. "I wouldn't want to work for you, not in a million years, no matter how much you paid me!"
"Well, that's mutual, because I wouldn't want a Mudblood like you working for me!" Draco spat.
Silence, followed by a crack of Apparition as Draco realised what he'd said. He hadn't used that word in a long time, and it tasted bitter on his tongue.
"She deserved it," Draco muttered, gathering his things.
"Draco?" A female voice sounded at the door, and Draco whipped round, startled. "It's just me," Emma said quietly. "You probably should have cast a Silencing Charm on your office."
"Oh, you heard?"
"The entire street heard, Draco," Emma sighed.
"Well, don't blame me, blame that stupid witch, Grang – hang on," Draco stopped, narrowing his eyes at his assistant. "You called me Draco."
"Well, that is your name."
"What happened to Mr. Malfoy and the shy Emma?" Draco smirked.
"She left when Mr. Malfoy made her sit through almost twelve hours of interviewees, all gorgeous of course, asking me when they get to meet the 'man himself,'" Emma scathed, trying to put her arm through her coat sleeve.
Draco watched her struggling for a few moments before amusedly giving her a hand. "I like this new Emma."
"Me too, she's feisty," Malcolm said, passing the door on his way to the storage room. Draco raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything as Emma snorted.
"I know you hate her, but Hermione would be brilliant for this place, and you know it," Emma told her boss quietly.
"No, she wouldn't."
"Plus, Whitby fancies her."
Draco smirked. "Whitby can do a lot better, and that's saying something."
"Same time tomorrow, Draco?" Emma asked, deciding he was a lost cause.
"Same time tomorrow, Emma."
Hermione landed in her kitchen, her hands shaking, her throat dry and her eyes watering. She didn't know why Draco's Mudblood had affected her so much, but it had, and she was glad Ron wasn't in the room to ask her why she was so upset. She reasoned that it had hurt her so much because of their history. For a moment, she had been back at Hogwarts; Malfoy and his allies calling her names, and then she had been in Malfoy Manor, being tortured by Malfoy's aunt Bellatrix Lestrange. She clutched her arm, the scar tingling painfully. She'd have to ask Harry about magical scars, although it didn't pain him anymore. Although she had been called Mudblood countless times by various Death Eaters she'd given evidence against in the Wizengamot, this time it had really shaken her. She hadn't heard the word in a little under four years, and however proud of her Muggle heritage she was, she didn't want the fact that she had 'dirty blood' to be pointed out so harshly.
Breathing deeply, Hermione wiped her eyes on her sleeve and poured herself a goblet of water. As she was sipping, Ron entered through the front door, carrying a large paper bag.
"Hermione!" he exclaimed, surprised at seeing her home. "You were quick, love. How did it go?" He dropped the bag on the kitchen counter.
Hermione bit her lip, trying to come up with a story to tell Ron. She decided to tell the truth. "The interview went great, but when I met the head of the company, it all went awful," she admitted.
"How so?"
"Well, I got the impression he didn't like Muggle-borns."
"What?" Ron looked ready to punch someone. "That's discrimination! I'll go down there and–"
"No, Ron, leave it," Hermione interrupted, raising her hand. "It's not worth it."
Ron balled his fists but stopped shouting. "Bet he was a Slytherin," he muttered.
Hermione ignored his comment and began emptying the bag Ron had brought home from the corner shop of its contents: bread, milk and Fizzing Whizzbees. She glanced at the clock for the second time that day. It was eight-thirty, too early to go to bed to escape Ron's sympathetic looks, but too late to visit Ginny or Luna or go to Diagon Alley.
As she closed the fridge door, she felt Ron move closer to her, and she shivered.
"'Mione," Ron murmured as he pulled her backwards into his torso, "I love you."
"Love you too, Ron," Hermione said, putting on a cheery tone. She didn't know why it was so hard to say recently, but she didn't want to think about it. "Do you want to watch television?"
Ron broke away from her and stared at her oddly as she turned to face him. "I don't get that thing."
"It's entertaining and factual. What's not to love?"
"It's weird; a box that shows moving pictures of Muggles pretending to be something or someone else," Ron said, screwing up his face.
"I'll put a DVD on, a comedy, you'll enjoy that." Hermione brushed past him, heading towards her living room cabinet. At first, Hermione was against having an open plan living space, but she found it to be easier that everything was in the same room. "How about Men in Black?"
"Sure, why not." Ron sighed and went over to the sofa, taking off his shirt and revealing a grubby white vest.
"Shoes off, Ronald," Hermione said without turning around.
Ron rolled his eyes but complied, slumping heavily onto the sofa and resting his sockless feet on the coffee table.
Hermione frowned, placed the DVD in the player and sat next to her boyfriend.
"Come closer!" Ron said, trying to pull Hermione by the hip.
"Okay, fine, but I can do it myself," Hermione snapped, and she scooted a foot nearer to Ron who proceeded to put his arm around her.
As they watched the film, Ron making comments about how Will Smith would be able to kill aliens a lot easier with magic, Hermione sat in awkward silence thinking about her future.
Is this what my life will be like? Ron and I get married and watch films together in silence for the rest of our lives? Shouldn't we be talking all day and night, making each other laugh like we used to?
As the credits started to roll, Hermione covered a snoring Ron with a throw and went to bed for another sleepless night.
AUTHOR'S NOTES
Thank you for all your support so far, and thanks to my beta reader from Hawthorn & Vine, Lissie Clarke. I have loads of visitors/views, but only six reviews! All your feedback is really needed, as it may change the ending of the story! I have a twist planned for chapter nine, so you guys can speculate if you'd like. Happy reading, LOVE HOLLY.
P.S: If anyone is good at fanart, a new book cover for this fic would REALLY be appreciated (credit will be given) as the current one is crappy (I rushed it, I'm usually better at graphics, promise)