Hermione spent the next hour holed up in her office trying to work through the pile of parchments her "business meeting" had pushed aside. Draco's words had bothered her, of course; why did she continue to let him get to her? In truth, Hermione had no idea why she had stayed at lunch with Theodore Nott for so long. She had been very much set against him when lunch started, but the more time she spent with the handsome ex-Slytherin, the more she liked him. He was certainly charming, a trait rather conspicuously lacking in most of the men she came in contact with. Work-wise, though she guessed his interest in S.P.E.W. was less than he proclaimed, he would be a good contact for her. She had to admit that she liked him. His close relationship to Malfoy couldn't be ignored, but the two were schoolmates, and she supposed that Malfoy was probably tolerable to those he considered his "equal." She was flattered by this attention, and Hermione supposed her complete lack of any sort of recent romantic relationships had made her respond to his flirting. He hadn't asked her on a real date, but she thought that might come soon, and she had already decided she was going to accept. What could it hurt?

Of course, she knew it was ridiculous to think Malfoy wouldn't be interested in the matter - he was Theo's best friend and roommate, after all, and she was his sworn enemy. She just didn't know what he really thought - was he annoyed or amused by his friend's interest in her?

Well, who cares what he thinks anyway? she thought stubbornly. Harry or Ron, either. I'm a grown woman. I can do what I want.

You want to do a Slytherin? Malfoy's phantom voice taunted her. She promptly told him to shut up and went back to the work in front of her.

Tomorrow Malfoy was going inspect the Zabini residence. She was more than a little worried about the visit. When she suggested Malfoy accompany Jasmine and Elliot she had completely overlooked the fact that Parkinson had thrown Malfoy over in favor of Zabini. Not very observant of her, really. The look on his face had suggested that he wasn't remotely over that betrayal, either. Still, she knew the twins could handle anything, and she supposed Malfoy's desire for his father's money would keep him in check. Maybe he would discover something Jasmine and Elliot had overlooked; after all, Malfoy knew the Zabini's and what they were capable of more than anyone else. She just had to (gag) trust him.

In addition to the Zabini inspection, she had her meeting with the Minister in the morning. For the first time, Hermione was actually nervous to speak with Kingsley. She wanted to tell him about her ideas for additional aid to magical creatures, and she knew she could count on his discretion in the manner of werewolves. He had loved Lupin, too, after all. Still, it was going to be a tricky subject. Kingsley would not discourage her from branching out, but there was only so much assistance he could offer. It would be up to her to sway public opinion.

"Hermione, you have built this organization almost single-handedly," she said aloud to herself. "If you can't make the wizarding community embrace werewolves, no one can."

"Now you're talking to yourself?" Draco drawled behind her, making her jump. "Do they keep a bed at St. Mungo's ready for you at all times?"

"You'd be the one to send me there," she snapped back, embarrassed. "Didn't you already storm out of my office in a pique? I thought you went home."

"Then I'm surprised I didn't walk in on a victory dance," he said. "Although my earlier exit was quite dramatic and impressive, I figured we had to work late tonight since you and Theo were playing hide the broomst-"

"Do not finish that sentence," Hermione warned. "I have already made my feelings clear on that subject, and I won't repeat them. Seriously, Malfoy, stop it."

He grinned. "As you wish. I don't really care what kind of sordid things you get up to, anyway. It's beneath me to speculate about your pathetic affairs."

"Just so we're clear," said Hermione, not bothering to tell him again that there were no affairs to speculate about. Not yet, anyway.

Draco clapped his hands in a 'well, that subject's over with' manner and plopped down on the chair in front of her desk. "So what redundant assignment do you have for me now, Boss Lady?"

"I have to work late; you're free to go home if you want. I really thought you left when you huffed out of here. You could give Teddy lessons in tantrum-throwing. What the hell were you doing, hiding under your desk? Everyone else is gone."

"Exactly," he stated, ignoring the slight on his earlier behavior. "Isn't that the best time to get things done?"

"I certainly think so," she allowed. "But that would mean you need to be gone, too."

"Fine," Draco barked, rising from the chair and walking toward the door. "See if I ever show an interest in this stupid work again."

Hermione was surprised, and started to apologize before she caught herself. She wasn't going to let him play that wounded crap with her. There was no way he actually wanted to work; she knew he just wanted to heckle her now that everyone else was gone. "Oh, Malfoy, I bet I'll have plenty of grunt work for you tomorrow after you get back from your inspection. There's got to be something left in the office to alphabetize, and I just know there's a stack of boring correspondences with your name on it."

He turned away from the door and quirked an eyebrow at her. "Joy. I'll be sure to wear my fancy robes."

"And won't you look dashing," she deadpanned. "Seriously, go home; you don't want to stay here any longer. Surely you can find another use for your evening. Don't you need to burn me in effigy or something?"

"As if I'd waste a minute outside this hellhole thinking about you," he countered. Of course, he spent a lot of time thinking about her outside of work. She had definitely eclipsed Potter as his favorite mental punching bag in the past few weeks. He was particularly fond of the fantasy where he shrank her and married her off to one of the stupid house elves she worshiped so much. He probably did need something else to occupy his mind. "In point of fact, I do need to be leaving. I need to get my beauty rest."

"There aren't enough hours in the night for that."

"Says you," Draco said, not bothered by her petty comments. "I know it's reflection perfection every time I look in the mirror, but I still need at least a little sleep. I don't want to look like I actually let you work me to death, even if it's true. I need to look fresh in the morning. Pansy needs to know what she's missing."

"Good Lord, Malfoy, I would think you'd be glad to be rid of that cow," she replied. "She's gross."

"You're biased. And if you think she's so disgusting, then I'm surprised you don't think we're perfect for each other."

"I hate to say this, but you can do way better than Pansy Parkinson," Hermione told him. "I was always surprised to see you two together at Hogwarts. I would have thought you could have your pick of desperate Slytherins. Why settle for that bitch? At least Daphne Greengrass and Jezebel Whipley didn't look like the inbred hags they probably were. Why didn't you go for one of them?"

"Gee, Granger, I never knew you cared," he said, rolling his eyes. "Here I thought you were repulsed by me, but apparently you find me as irresistible as all the rest. If we're sharing secrets, I always thought you were a bit too good for Weasley, too, even if he is a pureblood and you're just a muggleborn. There, we're even. Should we braid each other's hair now?"

Hermione blushed slightly, but still felt the jab about her birth. "I guess there's no accounting for taste, right? By all means, show Parkinson what she's missing. Or better yet, show Zabini what he's missing by being married to the meanest shrew this side of Umbridge."

"Funny, that's what I always said about you. Later, Granger." He practically ran out of the room before she could get the last word. Despite volunteering, he had been dreading his trip to see Blaise and Pansy. Now, though, he thought it might be sort of... satisfying. Was Granger right? Was Pansy really that bad? Maybe he was lucky to be rid of her after all.

Those two trolls deserve each other, he told himself. And tomorrow, you'll get the last laugh.

XXXX

Be calm, Draco. You can do this. It's just Pansy and Blaise. You're better than them. You're fine. You're Draco Malfoy. You're -

"Are you okay, Draco?" Jasmine asked him worriedly, interrupting his mental pep talk. "You look sort of pale."

"He's always pale, Jas," Elliot contradicted her. "You do look sort of sweaty, though, mate. Are you hungover? Or maybe you're worn out, huh? Did you and Ginger -"

"Elliot, that's none of your business!" Jasmine screeched. "It's completely inappropriate for you to imply that Draco's all sweaty and nervous because he and Ginger were shacked up last night. However, it is appropriate for me to ask. So, were you?"

Draco barely contained a growl. He honestly enjoyed the Blackwell twins - their particular brand of likability was hard to resist - but he was already a nervous wreck without having to deal with their goofy bullshit. Whatever calm he had felt the day before was completely gone. He was about to see the two people who had betrayed him worse than anyone else, and he really didn't have time for the twins' "we're-so-charming-we-can-be-as-annoying-as-we-want-to-be" shtick right now. He would hate to have to kill the only bloke besides Theo that he could remotely stand.

"Did you just growl?" Elliot asked with amusement. "Isn't that very lion-esque of you? I would have expected a hiss. It was quite threatening, though, mate. No wonder you were considered the Big Bad for awhile. If I didn't know you better, I'd be scared right about now."

"You don't know me," Draco said between gritted teeth, thinking again that he really would like to kill them, "which is exactly why you're not scared. If you were smart, you would be. Don't play with me today."

"Oooo," Jasmine tittered. "Sorry, Mr. Malfoy, sir! We'll behave. Now are you going to knock or are we going to stare at the Zabini's pretentious snake head door knockers all damn day?'

"Give me a second," Draco answered.

"Something tells me you guys aren't the bosom friends you once were," Elliot observed.

"Brilliant observation, Professor."

"She used to be your girlfriend, right?" Elliot persisted.

Draco nodded, gritting his teeth.

"And he used to be one of your best mates, am I still right?"

Draco nodded again, wondering why on earth he was sharing his business with the cheeky little busybodies.

"Well, that sucks, mate," Elliot said, with apparent sincerity. "Very brave of you to suck it up, I think. Makes you look quite ballsy, really."

Draco just sighed, still unable to knock on the door.

"It might be a bit awkward, though," Elliot stated. "Could be a fun show, but I don't want to have a laugh if you're really uncomfortable."

"I just need a second," Draco repeated. "I'm fine."

"You're better off, Draco," Jasmine said. "She behaves in an infamous manner every time we come over here. You should see the way she hangs all over Elliot. Good thing Mr. Zabini will be here to rein her in or you might throw up all over the place."

"Ahh, you're exaggerating," Elliot shrugged. "Mrs. Z's not so bad. I mean, to me, anyway."

"Mrs. Z?" Draco repeated incredulously. "Does she actually let you call her that?"

"No," Jasmine smirked. "Elliot gets to call her Pansy. For everyone else, it's Mrs. Zabini, ma'am. And curtsy when you say it."

"Figures."

"You'd think we could finally stop coming here," Elliot said, "but there's always some talk about elf abuse. We've never found anything, but the rumors persist. Hermione won't let us ignore them. Mrs. Z is always a little too helpful."

"I think she starts them herself so she can flirt with Elliot," Jasmine offered. "It really is quite disgusting. Anyway, knock already, Draco. We haven't got all day."

Draco nodded bracingly - it wouldn't do for them to think he was scared - took a deep breath and slammed the snake knocker against the door. Within seconds a tiny, wizened elf answered the door.

"Mistress and Master is expecting you," the elf said in a surprisingly deep voice. Draco and the Blackwell twins followed the elf into the foyer of Pansy and Blaise's house. The decorations were ostentatious and expensive, but there was a serious lack of taste apparent. Draco thought of Theo's quiet good taste and smirked at the opulent surroundings. He started to calm down a little bit. Obviously Pansy hadn't changed much in the last six years. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.