A/N: It's been awhile. Again, no characters are mine, they rightfully belong to Madame Rowling. But enjoy the story nonetheless.

Chapter 7

Draco Malfoy had never considered himself an irrational man. He loved his money, and his money loved him. He didn't like girls that loved his money, and not him, so he liked to stay away from them. This, he figured, was a rational decision.

Therefore, he found that to satisfy his cravings for intimacy, the most rational choice was to invest in an exclusive, impeccably discrete, professional Wizarding escort service. In exchange for anything between 5,000 to 100,000 Galleons, depending on the location, duration, and requests by the customer, a wealthy Wizard (or Witch) could indulge himself with the company of a beautiful individual without being caught in the public eye or exposed. It was safe and reliable, the women appeared like fabulous, traveling socials, and at the end of the day, it was a finalized transaction, and they could part ways.

Draco Malfoy didn't mind spending his money, even if the product purchased was something he could easily get for free. When something is free, he believed, that something wants, or will want, something back in return. This alternative made things simple. He paid, and he got. He was not wanted afterwards, unless he wanted more.

More than anything, the women he met on these excursions were not interested in landing a diamond ring on their fingers, or presiding as Mistress of Malfoy Manor. They did not want him to take them on shopping sprees, or buy the entire new House of Griselda Warlock Summer collection. They enjoyed the comforts associated with their occupation, but did not take advantage of them. They were simple.

Draco liked simple. As convoluted and entangled as his public and business lives were, his personal life was simple. He had a bachelor image to maintain, but that was purely to keep the spotlight on him and his empire. If people thought he was frivolous and wild, they would consistently keep a close and scrutinizing eye on his companies. When they could find no slip-ups, frauds, miscalculations, sketchy partnerships or mergers, or anything that did not signal Draco Malfoy's rising success, all that was left was a positive public image. He might be a socialite, he might be photographed with dozens of models crowded around him on a weekly basis, but he was not a failure. On the contrary, he was lauded for his accomplishments so frequently that the attention almost rivaled that deemed worthy to the Lord and Savior Harry Potter.

He enjoyed his life. He was able to direct all of his energy into his work, and could receive company and pleasure whenever he saw fit. He didn't have to get to know anyone unless he wanted to, and he didn't have to worry about their feelings, let alone wonder if their feelings were for him or for his money.

Over the past four years, Draco had built himself a nice cushion of a life. He believed that he had everything he needed and wanted. However, as he stood on the dusty curbside of a narrow, Florentine cobblestone road, staring at the text from his fellow Slytherin while the blazing eyes of Hermione Granger pierced his chest, he did not feel perfect. He felt far from perfect. For the first time since his abandonment of the Dark Arts and his family's legacy, he felt alone and he felt vulnerable. He did not want Hermione to discover the truth of his existence. She would find it disgusting and shameful, and if her judgment of him weren't already down the tube, this would push it into the depths that reached far below the caves and vaults of Gringotts. She would never think differently of him, and more than anything, she would make him actually feel humiliated.

Draco had time to save himself at that point. He was supposed to meet Ramona, the only companion who he saw with some consistency. She could easily be cancelled. They didn't meet for sex, but rather for general company. She didn't mind him, and he didn't mind her. For a few hours they would walk around a city of Draco's choice, sometimes exchanging stories, sometimes remaining completely silent. They would eat a meal together, sometimes explore the muggle and magical historical sights, and sometimes just sit next to each other for extended periods of time, enjoying the presence of someone that doesn't judge them or want to go deeper. In a way, Draco paid to have Ramona as a friend, but in reality he paid for her silence and her character while with him. Like the other girls that worked for the agency, she was an actress. Yes, he knew her to some extent, and knew that she was the best choice for his "friend", but at the end of the day, she could transform herself into anyone he wanted. At the end of the day, she was a fabrication.

The girl standing in front of him, however, was so pure and so real that the force of her being terrified him. As much as she might judge him, Hermione was the last person interested in his wealth. And apart from their bitter hatred for each other during their school years, she wasn't too different from him. They were both quick, clever, intelligent, and ambitious. Hermione had a personality, one that seemed to actually wake him from his usual slumber. If she didn't hate him, Draco ventured to consider what possibilities could unfold between them.

He could still feel Hermione's eyes upon him. He looked at her, silently admiring the rich caramel color of her eyes, and the cascading waves that fell down over her shoulders and shined radiantly on her flawless skin.

"It seems as though my plans here have actually been cancelled. So unless you plan on standing here for the rest of your trip abroad, would you like to come dine with me? I'm already in Italy, I might as well enjoy a nice supper before traveling back." Draco asked her. His stomach tightened into a knot as he spoke, and seemed to clench even tighter as he awaited her response.

Hermione eyed him suspiciously. His tone lacked its usual sneer, but she could never be sure with him.

At the same time, she doubted she would encounter any more plans, and was already feeling lost as it was.

"Ermmm, sure. Okay. But the moment you start acting like a weasel again I swear I will turn you into one, I don't care how many muggles I have to obliviate afterwards. Got it?"

Draco smirked. "Yes, Captain."

Inside, Draco Malfoy let out a celebratory whoop before forcing himself to remember who he was, who she was, and what this would lead to. He could not get his hopes up, though he was not sure what his hopes necessarily were. He only knew that he was having dinner with a witch that didn't seem to like that he was rich, but rather despised him for it. For once, he had an opportunity to convince someone that he wasn't all that bad.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Please review!