A/N: I am so sorry this took forever. Truth be told, it was a stupid mistake on my part. I completely forgot this was sitting on my computer; I thought I'd already submitted it! I have roughly 4000 words of the next chapter written, so hopefully sometime this week or next I'll post it.

Thanks for reading, and too all those that reviewed: you make my day. possibly my life. I treasure each comment.

Thank you to my beta, murtagh799. All mistakes are mine.

Thursday

8:00 AM

(Draco Malfoy's P.O.V)

Adding a wall there would mean he'd have to raise the roof two meters, which could result in the columns having to shift placement. He needed the wall, though, or the roof might cave in during a heavy storm or a hurricane. Draco bit his lip in frustration as he rearranged things, checking the sheet of paper with his client's specifications every once in a while. Damn Barbara Allian, anyway. She was incessantly picky. His original indoor columns had been too thick for her, but when he'd compensated for the skinner ones by adding a few more, she'd complained about the number interfering with her "chi." Honestly, he didn't give a shit about her chi.

"Draco."

He ignored the voice. The person could wait, especially if it were Daphne, as he rather suspected it was. He erased two columns from his floating 3D model and flicked his wand so they rearranged themselves closer to the middle. He added a half-wall behind the left side and cast a spell. Rough winds tore through his half-completed model, and Draco frowned in concentration, writing down which points were hit the hardest, indicated by a glowing red.

"Draco."

He swore as the wall he'd just added caved in and canceled the simulation with a jab of his wand. Okay. That didn't work. Perhaps he should simply add a few columns on the second floor? No, Allian had told him that columns only worked on the ground floor. If he had all the arches she wanted, then there would be no wall support! This was ridiculous! Her plans were highly improbable.

"Draco Malfoy, you look at me right now!"

Definitely Daphne. "Listen, Daphne," he said without looking up, "I'm actually rather busy doing work, something I'm afraid you have become unfamiliar with lately. I suggest you reacquaint yourself with it in your new office and speak to me after my afternoon meeting. I believe I can squeeze you in."

Daphne huffed loudly. "Draco, you're being childish."

"Actually, being childish would be to ignore the large quantities of work I have in order to have a sparring match with you, Daphne. By removing you from my presence, both of us will accomplish something." He changed all the arches to circular ones, removing the pointy corners and thus adding a few feet of extra wall support, and considered how that looked with the overall theme. Actually, a circular theme would work much better...

"Draco! Look at me!"

"Daphne, if you must insist on speaking loudly and disrupting my employees, I'm afraid I shall have to remove you from this side of the building immediately. Or, of course, I can place you under a Silencing charm. They have the same effect." He had already placed a silencing charm on his office the moment he had heard her walk in anyway - no need letting his employees know there was trouble within the Silver Trio - but she didn't need to know that.

"You are being extremely immature," she spat at him and left his office. He rolled his eyes and continued working. She'd be back in five minutes, he was sure.

Sure enough, she barged in approximately six minutes later, full of outrage. "Where's my office! Draco!"

He finally raised his eyes to meet hers and let a mocking smile curl his lips. "I'm sure you remember our policy at Dragon," he said, his eyes taking in every detail of her appearance. She looked polished and pristine, but he saw how she curled her hand around her wand in agitation. She was taking slightly deeper breaths than normal as well, obviously trying to calm herself down. "Office space directly corresponds to the amount of work one does. I'm afraid that Theo has taken over your old office, as you doubtlessly noticed. Your new number is 15A."

She inhaled sharply in anger and perhaps sadness. This was an open declaration of mistrust. Draco's office was simply A, Theo's was 2A, and Daphne's old office had been 1A. The three had been in a row, with Draco in the middle. Now, she had been banished to the end of the hall, where she wouldn't be able to easily access Draco and talk to him secretly through the connection.

"Who is in Theo's old office?"

He looked down at the model. "Nobody. It's open."

Daphne sighed then, softly, and he raised his gaze to her once more. "I'm so sorry, Draco," she whispered, and her face was open and full of simple regret. "Please, forgive me."

He knew how difficult it was for a Slytherin to apologize, especially Daphne, but his face was hard when he looked at her. "Forgiveness must be earned," he said coldly. "And your list of grievances is quite long. 15A."

"I'll keep trying," she promised, and left his office. He heard her footsteps trail off and he returned his gaze to the model. This was going to be quite difficult, but he'd manage. They had been angry at each other before, and every time it involved a rather grueling process of making up to the other. This time, Daphne had to earn Theo's forgiveness as well as Draco's, but he was confident she would do it. She was his sister, practically. He was sure she wouldn't give that up for a relationship with Zabini.

Thursday

8:18 AM

(Daphne Greengrass' P.O.V)

Although she had left Draco's office full of regret, by the time she had stalked all the way down the hall to her new office, Daphne was seething. Draco's employees looking at her curiously as she passed them, eyes narrowed, struggling to maintain her famous self control. One of them, Gabrielle, poked her head out of her office and said in a perky voice, "Daphne! What happened to your old office?"

"It's being renovated," she bit out.

"Why were you gone for so long?"

Daphne pinned the woman under her most imposing glare. "Not that it concerns you, Jenkins, but I was using some of my vacation time."

Gabrielle grinned, entirely unconcerned by Daphne's obvious anger. "An awfully inconvenient time to use the vacation time, isn't it?"

"Gabrielle," a voice said from behind Daphne. She rolled her eyes. Theo. She'd missed him when visiting her old office, thankfully, and was not looking forward to another confrontation with him. Daphne turned slowly to see Theo frowning at the other woman. "I believe that you are supposed to be working, yes? Draco will be quite displeased if he hears of this."

She paled and fled back inside her office. Daphne continued walking, mentally mocking both the men in her life. First there was Theo, who was Draco's little henchman. It was all Draco this and Draco that. What about her? And Draco was the biggest prat in the world anyway. He was acting ridiculous. Okay, so maybe she'd taken a little time off, who cared? Just because he was a workaholic didn't mean everyone was. Everyone respected Draco, was afraid of Draco. Draco could do no wrong. Well, Daphne knew just how flawed Draco was, even if nobody else could see it -

"Daphne." Theo walked a little closer to her and dropped his voice. "Stop. Don't get upset. You know you're the one in the wrong here."

She opened her mouth to spit out that no, thank you; it was not her fault, when Theo simply gave her a challenging look.

She deflated. He wouldn't even let her have a nice internal rant in peace. "Just leave," she said. He gave her an actual smile and left her standing there. Daphne hurried to her new office and shut the door, throwing up a few locking and privacy wards, surveying her appearance with a wrinkled nose.

It wasn't her old office, but it would have to do.

She sat down at the desk and took a pad of parchment out from her pocket, flipping to a new page. When she put aside her pride and thought about it, really thought about it, she remembered the shame she'd felt when Theo had visited her. It was her fault, really. Sure, Draco was being a prat and Theo was...well, Theo, but she had broken into Draco's house - it had been a joke! - and hooked up with Draco's enemy. She supposed she had some explaining to do.

Daphne withdrew a quill and began planning how to get back in Draco's good books. She may act like they didn't matter to her, but him and Theo were her family. Any Slytherin knew that family ranked before everything, even ambition and pride.

Thursday

7:32 PM

(Draco Malfoy's P.O.V)

Stretching his back, Draco felt a few vertebrae pop into place. "Fuck," he groaned, as he reached back to massage his sore neck. He'd been working all day, and while he'd accomplished quite a lot, he was tired as hell.

"Hey, Drake," said Theo from outside his door. "I think I'm leaving."

"Fuck you," Draco said, his lips curving into a smile. "I have to stay."

Theo raised an eyebrow and leaned against his door. Instead of looking cool and suave and attractive like Draco did, Theo only managed to pull off a sort of not-so-geeky scientist look. "You don't have to stay, Draco. Jeez. When was the last time you took a vacation?"

Draco rolled his eyes and stretched his arm, groaning. "I'll take a vacation when my bank account satisfies me."

"See you in hell, then."

"Is that implying that I'm going to hell for this attitude, or that the next time I take vacation will be when I'm dead and in hell because of said attitude?"

"Definitely the latter."

He grinned. "Thought so."

Theo laughed as well, walking a few feet into the office. "Really, Drake. Nobody's going to say anything if you leave now."

Okay, so he wasn't leaving for two reasons: 1) his beach-house in the works was still collapsing under hurricane winds, and 2) Granger hadn't sent him the revised contact. "I'm almost done," he lied, indicating the model floating in front of him. "I just need to close the upstairs and plan the deck in the front, and I'll be done for the day."

"Is that the only reason?" Theo's voice was perfectly innocuous, but Draco shot him an inquisitive look and he elaborated, "Daphne's still here."

That might have been the third reason. Draco raised his chin defiantly and said, "So what? She has plenty of work to do."

"Don't give me that shit," Theo sighed, and Draco was struck by how tired he looked. Daphne's betrayal had been hard on them both, but while it was like being fucked over by a sister for him, Draco was reasonably sure that Theo was in love with her. Her crimes would have hit him much harder. "You know you're trying to show her up."

Draco sighed and motioned Theo to sit down. "You know, you can forgive her anytime you want," he said, his voice low and his gaze intense. "You don't have to wait for me. I know you love her."

"So do you," Theo said, his eyes shifting to the wall.

"Don't give me that shit," he mocked, "I know you love her."

Theo stood abruptly. "I do not, Draco. Merlin! Stop trying to deflect attention! And you know I'll forgive her whenever I want, not when you do."

"Theo - "

He stormed out of Draco's office, and the other man groaned. Excellent. Now both of his friends were angry at him. He knew Theo would come around; he was just shocked. Daphne was another matter. She was unpredictable in this mood, and he hated unpredictability. Should I tell her about the Zabinis' plan?

Draco mused it over. On one hand, she could provide him with insight into the Zabinis, not to mention she could be a 'collector of information', a term he used instead of 'spy'. On the other hand, she'd get affronted, storm off, tell her beloved lover, and the entire operation would be lost.

The risk greatly outweighed the benefits, he decided. He'd hold off telling her until he was certain she was back on his side, so to speak.

Draco massaged his temples and returned to work. Sometimes, all of this was terribly daunting. He had to juggle work, plotting, and more plotting - not to mention Granger - and he was barely in his twenties. How could he do this?

Friday

8:01 AM

(Ron Weasley's P.O.V)

He stood on Hermione's doorstep, and tried to work up the courage to knock on her door.

He'd been thinking about things over the past two days and he'd fast come to the conclusion that it technically wasn't Mione's fault that the prat was manipulating her. After all, he'd fallen for Fleur back in the day and he'd hardly been able to resist it when she came within five feet of him. Malfoy was a bloody prat and an awful person, but if he had some Veela juju to work with, he was sure even Mione would be a bit overwhelmed.

He'd actually sat down and thought through it. Ron had even gathered his courage and come to speak to Hermione, but he'd forgotten a vital point: he actually had to walk in her door.

Shit.

He raised his hand, but it hung motionless in the air an inch or two away from the door. Knock, Ron, he told himself firmly. Let's go.

He was about to knock - he was! - when the door swung open and Hermione walked right into him.

"Merlin, Ronald!" Hermione said huffily. "What are you doing here?"

He gave her his best smile. "Aw, Mi, I can't even visit my best friend?"

"You're not angry?" Hermione gave him a suspicious look. "Okay, Ronald, what do you want from me?"

He bit his lip. It was now or never. "I was thinking," he said in a rush. Might as well get it over with. "It's not really your fault that this whole...Veela shit is going down. Yeah?" He ended with a hopeful smile and his best puppy-dog eyes.

There was a pause. Ron smiled triumphantly as he saw Hermione think this over. Yes, she was about to forgive him. She would be so impressed with his foresight and courage and brilliant speech that...

"You had two days and that is what you came up with?"

His smile fell. She shrugged and began to walk away, shutting the door firmly behind her.

"What do you mean, Mione?" Ron asked, hurrying after her. "I thought it was good!"

She groaned loudly as they headed down the tiny staircase to the exit of her building. "Ron, that was good for when you were a fourth year."

"Mione!" He whined as he leaped down the last couple of stairs and turned to face her. "You know I haven't matured since then."

This brought a smile to her face and she paused briefly before stepping around him. "Ron, thank you for being mature about this. I appreciate it."

His shoulders slumped as he kept walking slightly behind her as she exited the building and hurried around the block to a safe spot to Apparate. "I hear a 'but...'"

"But, I'm terribly busy," she said, "And I don't have time right now."

"You never have time!" Ron said heatedly, and he meant it. At first, he'd thought Hermione was ignoring him because of their rather nasty breakup. After all, he'd reasoned, if you throw a lamp at someone, you don't exactly want to spend time with them immediately after. But, it had been nearly a year since that'd happened, and he was happy with Alicia. Mione had even gone out on a few dates. They'd repaired their friendship. Why, he wondered, was she never available to spend time with the Weasleys?

Hermione sighed and tucked hair behind her ear, turning to face him. "Listen, Ron, this is a very stressful time of my life right now..."

"Don't let Malfoy get between us, Mione!"

"That's not it!"

The two stared at each other with the beginning of irritation, but then Ron sighed heavily and said, "Mi, I just don't get why you're busy all the time. I mean, it's not like ASAP is going anywhere, yeah? You have the degree from those universities, so you might as well get yourself hired somewhere. The Unspeakables have been after you for the past two years, you know."

Hermione flushed angrily and withdrew her wand.

"Whoa," Ron said, jumping back. He took a swift look at Hermione's incensed face and quickly held his hands up defensively. "Jeez, don't hex me."

"I'm not going to hex you," she said, but didn't put away her wand. "I'm leaving, Ron. For your information, I'm not giving up now because some poncey Spells Master told me to do so, okay? Stop suggesting it!"

"Mione - " he started, but before he could finish his attempt at placating his friend, she disappeared with a slight pop. Ron groaned and ran his hand through his hair, mussing it farther. "Dammit!" He shoved his hands in his pockets, grabbed his wand, and looked around him shadily. "That woman is insane, I swear," Ron told himself as he twisted the wand and disappeared as well.

Friday

8:01 AM

(Draco Malfoy's P.O.V)

Fucking hell, Deteria Zabini was even hotter than the last time he'd seen a picture of her.

Draco, who had taken a well-deserved break after spotting that Daphne hadn't yet appeared at work, grinned slightly. Deteria may be an awful, snobbish lady with no intelligence, but damn, she was attractive. Where Blaise used his exotic looks to appear rugged and well-traveled, Deteria employed her dark skin and wide, dark eyes to showcase a mysterious sensuality that Draco could appreciate as one does a painting. Before the whole Veela incident, Draco would have jumped at the chance to sleep with this tigress if it had been required, but now, he wondered with a wrinkled nose whether that horrible lurching feeling in his stomach would rise. When he'd shagged that irritating reporter, he'd thrown up afterwards.

Perhaps I won't sleep with her, he mused to himself, tilting the picture of her back. Her figure smiled, blew a kiss, and trailed a finger down the side of her body. He gulped as she traced her curves. Perhaps I will.

"Draco," said Daphne's voice from the door. Draco froze and stopped moving the picture, scowling. She'd dismantled the wards on the hallway outside, the ones that told him when someone was approaching his office. No wonder she hadn't appeared in his screening check of all the offices. She had probably been hiding in her old office, which still recognized her magical signature, and working on the wards.

"Really, Daphne," he drawled, lifting his head. "That was quite a pathetic effort. I've been expecting you to succeed for, oh, seventeen minutes now."

Daphne scowled.

In truth, he hadn't even noticed her outside, but who the hell needed to know that?

Regardless, Daphne cleared her throat. "Your birthday is this Sunday, Draco."

He resisted making a childish comment such as 'Congratulations, you've learned to use a calendar,' and instead stated, "Indeed." He'd found that if he didn't volunteer any information, others rushed to compensate. He'd learned that from Snape.

Daphne was no exception. "I took the liberty of planning the event for you. Well, I've begun to. I am aware that you may not want my help, but I thought I would, just in case." She was rambling. This was a good sign. Although Slytherins liked to give the impression that they were in control of every aspect - appearance, speech, manipulation, emotions - they really weren't. Except for him, naturally. Draco knew he was an exception.

Anyway, he'd forgotten it was soon to be his birthday. He supposed he should be celebrating, considering he'd managed to find his mate and thus wouldn't die. Still, with all the stress he was under, he hardly felt the need to party. Draco weighed out the pros and cons before giving Daphne a small smile. "Yes, I would," he told her, and she smiled back. It wasn't forgiveness, oh, definitely not after one day, but it was a sign to Daphne that she was on the right track.

"I have a few themes in mind. Jungle?"

He rolled his eyes. "What, so we can all dress in distastefully revealing clothing of tacky tribal prints and act like our gorilla ancestors? While I may agree to the first point about revealing clothing, I definitely do not want to hear all of the 'banana' jokes that will surely commence."

Daphne huffed, but Draco suspected she had thrown that suggestion out there just to make him talk about it. "Safari."

"Overdone."

"Caribbean?"

Draco mulled it over. It was slightly cliché as well, but at least she was thinking a little more outside the box. "Not the Caribbean, but I like the beach."

Daphne bit her lip as she thought about it. Draco watched her concentrating for a beat or two before returning to his work; Daphne loved planning events, and she was bent on gaining his forgiveness. This party would be one to remember.

"I'll think about it later," Daphne said after a few seconds. She stood in front of his desk, her hands folded together. Draco didn't have to look up past them to know that her sharp eyes would be taking in his every appearance. That was why he'd forgone any glamour charms that morning, instead spending an extra half-hour making himself look breathtakingly attractive without any outside help. He smirked silently as a few minutes passed without a sarcastic remark. Either Daphne was curbing her tongue, or there was nothing wrong with his appearance. He suspected it was both. "Who's that?"

"Hmm?" Draco looked up and let his own gaze rove lazily down his friend's body. He picked up the small details - her collar was slightly crinkled, there was a slight shimmering around her forehead, suggesting a glamour had been placed, and her fingernails were slightly worn, as if she hadn't been keeping up her beauty regime. Looks like Zabini is running you ragged, Daph, he thought to himself. The price of paradise. Or perhaps it is the trouble in said paradise making you tired?

Daphne bristled at his blatant evaluation of her person. "That woman whose photograph you are carrying. Who is it? Does Granger know about it?"

His expression, which had been slightly softer as he'd noticed Daphne's exhaustion, hardened. "First, Daphne, I don't appreciate your nosy tendencies. Secondly, if you do not recognize her, that is both quite pathetic and very telling. Thirdly, I thank you to keep your musings about Granger and my relationship out of my office. What, so Blaisey doesn't take you to meet his sister, even? I thought it was serious."

She blinked. Draco smiled in satisfaction. Slipping that little part in at the end, just after he'd reprimanded her for asking about his relationship with Granger, had thrown her. She quickly recovered and said crisply, "Demetria, yes, I've spoken to her recently."

"You really must learn to lie better," Draco said condescendingly. "Firstly, her name is not Demetria, and secondly, you haven't spoken to her since sixth year when she told everybody you were bewitching your bras to make your breasts look better." He wrinkled his forehead as she blushed. "That was to impress that seventh year, wasn't it?"

Daphne pursed her lips. "Draco," she said, crossing her arms as soon as she said the name. "What are you doing with my boyfriend's sister? If you're trying to come between me and Blaise - "

He gave her his best 'I can't believe this' look. "Honestly," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He watched her shift uncomfortably at his tone. "Not everything is about you, Daphne." Draco eyed her form and decided to throw her a (fake) bone. "I've become bored with Granger's frigid tendencies," he explained loftily, watching her war with herself internally. She obviously wanted to protest at his characterization that woman were only good for shagging, but Draco knew Daphne was pleased that he was allegedly drawing away from Granger. Little did she know that he was having vivid, very descriptive dreams of a certain nature now that neither he nor Granger frequented that little Muggle park. "Although I must admit that when I heard dear Deteria was looking for a good time, it did cross my mind briefly that this is an excellent way of getting you know your lovely boyfriend's family."

"Draco - "

He waved his hand at her. She'd have to work a little bit harder to get more information out of him. "I have to get back to work, Daphne. I'll speak to you later."

After a moment, she sighed softly and left. Good for her. His forgiveness would come much faster if she was compliant.

Draco returned his gaze to the beautiful woman in the photograph who was now blowing him seductive kisses. Sure, she had none of the Veela's mate appeal that Granger unknowingly carried, but she was hot enough. He couldn't be expected to dance to Granger's tune to get laid, now could he?

She'd understand.

Friday

12:01 PM

(Hermione Granger's P.O.V)

"Wait a second," Hermione said, her eyes narrowing. "You're telling me you're bored of me and so you're going to go shag Zabini's sister?"

Malfoy, who was lounging on her couch, gave her a smile. "Yep," he said, stretching. She tried not to watch how the muscles in his arm and chest moved, fixing her gaze on his satisfied face. "You told me to stop harassing you, so I am. Isn't it lovely what we can accomplish when we compromise?"

She stared at him without replying.

When he'd appeared in that creepy way of his in the middle of her apartment, somehow managing to land suavely in the middle of her couch, she'd naturally shot a hex at him. It missed. He'd simply smiled winningly at her, and told her in an excited voice that she didn't have to worry anymore because he had "somebody new in my life, Granger, that I can spend time ravishing!"

That had both stopped the next hex from coming out of her mouth and spurred it on, so the result had been a half-garbled, half nonverbal spell that had wavered out of existence a few seconds after it had left her wand.

Truth be told, she was a little hurt. Weren't Veelas supposed to be incapable of sleeping with anyone other than her mate? Sure, she wasn't about to offer up her services, but he might at least have the decency to ask her first before moving on. Wasn't it yesterday that he was telling her he wanted her?

You refused, she reminded herself. Guys like him don't stay hooked on one woman for long, even a Veela.

Hermione's eyes widened as, a second later, she realized something. "Maybe this means the bond is breaking!"

He gave a lazy shrug. "Sorry to break it to you, Granger, but I'm perfectly entitled to find another woman sexy. I'm even allowed to ravish her. There may be a few consequences afterwards that will not be mentioned, but that's where you come in. Isn't it lovely?"

What was he talking about? "Explain, Malfoy, before I hex your balls off."

He winked at her and said, "Considering the last couple of times you tried to hex me, one fizzed out before it left your wand, two - or was it three? - added to the lovely decor of your tiny shack, and the rest of them were blatant misses, you can take your best shot. Come on, Miss Brightest Witch Of Our Age. I won't even duck this time."

She considered taking him up on that offer, but reminded himself that violence solved nothing. Instead, she pinched her nostrils together and breathed deeply, not even caring that he was watching her with amusement. "What do you want from me, Malfoy?"

He sat up. "It's a multiple choice, Granger. Don't you wet your panties over those? And a side note, I don't mean the kind of 'wet' that firsties do on the first day of school. If you catch my drift." He winked at her and she blushed despite herself. Dammit! "And I think you do."

"Get on with it," she said through clenched teeth. He was infuriating.

"A. Let me ravish you, love," he said, his lips turning into a lopsided smile. She glared at him. "Moving on. B) Give me permission to ravish Miss Zabini, who, by the way, is rumored to be a dragon in bed." Her glare intensified. He quailed a bit under her fierce stare and offered, "C) All of the above?"

"How about D) None of the above," Hermione bit out. "Now leave, I'm busy."

He groaned. "Granger, this is much more important that you realize. I can't do anything unless you give me permission."

"I'm not going to give you permission to sleep around, Malfoy," she said, exasperated. "Life isn't about sex. I'm busy."

"Granger, I'm serious, if you don't give me permission I swear I'll keep 'harassing' you until you cave in," Malfoy said, his voice low and serious. He gave her a look that made her think of that dream she'd had a couple weeks ago, a look that she could only classify as sexual.

Luckily, Hermione kept her wits about her at all times, and she snarkily replied, "Why don't you say that again in front of an Auror? Then you can go to jail."

"Fuck," Malfoy said, passing a hand across his face. "Why can't you make this easy for once?"

Hermione took a seat in one of her kitchen chairs that she'd dragged into the room yesterday and forgotten to take back. "Why is this so important? I mean, you went without sex for the first eighteen years of your life, why now?"

"Oh, Granger," he chuckled, shaking his head. She frowned at the little smile playing around his lips. "You are so naive! I believe it was fourteen years exactly."

He'd lost his virginity at fourteen? She gaped at him. He, naturally, smirked at her. Hermione was beginning to think he just had a default expression set at 'infuriating smirk.' She wouldn't be surprised if he spent time every morning practicing in the mirror.

Friday

12:11 PM

(Draco Malfoy's P.O.V)

He kept his default smirk on his face as he tried to figure out what to do.

In all honesty, he hadn't anticipated resistance on her front. Sure, he'd thought she'd be a bit prissy and rude, but she wasn't about to sleep with him, so why should she get snippy when he suggested someone else did?

Maybe she's feeling jealous, he realized, his smirk widening slightly. The mass of emotions coming from her - he'd noticed she always felt at least six every second, it gave him a headache - at the moment boiled down to slight disgust, no doubt a reaction to his confession. Behind it, however, he sensed a lingering strain lurking, one that if he didn't know better would convince him she was sporting just a tint of Slytherin green envy.

Score.

"That's disgusting, Malfoy," she sniped at him now. "No wonder you're obsessed with sex."

Just because I'm not a frigid bitch who would rather stick an ice cold pole from the North Pole up her arse that actually enjoy himself doesn't make me obsessed with sex, he thought to himself viciously before reconsidering.

Actually, she was probably right. He gave her a leering smile. "Nobody to date has complained about my...shall we say, experienced technique, love."

She flushed.

He'd noticed she had a very vivid reaction to him calling her 'love'. Every time he said it, as mocking as it was intended to be, she softened slightly for a split second before Frigid Bitch was back in full force. Naturally, he resolved to use it more often.

Back to the problem at hand. He sensed she was a second away from booting him out of her apartment for good, and then he'd be screwed. Draco had come to the conclusion after a reluctant and rather awkward talk with Vedette that no matter how hard he tried, actually physically having sex with any woman without permission would have a negative effect. He could lust after her, kiss her, even get to third, but the second he entered her, "the bond will recognize it as a betrayal."

Apparently, the deal with the reporter was bearable because that had been pre-consummation with Granger. He shuddered to think what would happen after the bond was satisfied.

He had no choice. He supposed it would be beneficial to tell Granger anyway; she'd think he was beginning to trust her. Gryffindors were big on trust. It might even help her start to fall in love with him.

"Okay, Granger," he said, his voice serious. Granger, who had been in the middle of saying something snarky, snapped her mouth shut and looked at him curiously. "If I tell you something extremely secret and private, will you promise not to tell?"

Don't overdo it, Draco, he cautioned himself, watching her face turn slightly malicious. She arranged it to look innocent a few seconds later, but he could feel her brimming with opportunity. She was probably thinking that she'd learn his secret and tell the world. "Sure, Malfoy."

"Don't insult me by lying," he said instantly, and she had the grace to look down, ashamed. "You were going to tell all your little friends, possibly to redeem yourself after the Incident the other day, and make sure my life was just a little bit worse. Really, Granger, perhaps I shan't tell you after all."

Granger looked suitable ashamed. She kept her gaze on her feet and mumbled, "I'm sorry, Malfoy. You were right."

He felt the sincerity emanating from her and felt pleased. Despite himself, he'd been rather disappointed that she was quick to jump to thoughts of revenge. Sure, he might have done so, but she was...her! She was the perfect little Golden Girl. She didn't do thoughts of revenge.

"Somebody is stealing money from Sleeping Dragon," he said without preamble. Her head snapped up and she looked at him, shocked. He held up a hand, forestalling any questions. "Yes, we have a pretty good idea who did it."

"The Zabinis," said Granger, reminding him why she was considered the smartest witch of her age. He, of course, was the smartest wizard. Naturally. "That's why you want my permission to sleep with Deteria for information. Merlin, Malfoy, why didn't you just tell me?"

He laughed, swinging his legs on the couch so he leaned against the armrest and faced her. "Granger, really. You're my enemy."

"I'm your mate."

"Touché."

Granger frowned, looking pensive. "Okay, Malfoy. Fine. I'll give you my permission as your mate to do what you have to with Deteria Zabini only for reasons concerning Operation: Zabini."

"Catchy."

"Thank you." Granger grinned at him. "That is, if I'm allowed to help."

Draco groaned.

Granger crossed her arms. "If you say it's because I'm a girl - "

He rolled his eyes very obviously. "No, Granger, but really, that's so cliché. Can't you think of any other reason? I mean, do you know how often that happens in stories? Merlin. It's almost like you're asking for this to be a fiction tale."

She flushed and glared at him, sticking out her hand. "Just shake on it, Malfoy."

He took her hand and shook it firmly. Merlin, what I've been reduced to. "Done."

She smiled at him, then, and it took him by surprise. "Excellent. I was expecting more arguments."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Merlin, Granger, why are you so defensive all the time?"

Draco had the pleasure of watching her work her mouth around the word 'defensive' as she struggled to answer. He'd only meant it as a rhetorical question, something to throw her off beat for a second or two before she returned to the argumentative Granger he knew, but his offhand comment had obviously unsettled her.

"...I am not," she said rather lamely, mustering up a weak glare.

"Yes, you are," he shot back. Really, she was. Draco had always been irritated by her "it's me against the world" attitude, but he'd always figured it came from her trying to prove herself. Lately, with their "reintroduction" of sorts, he'd realized that same attitude had - shudder - escalated. Every single thing he said, she'd argue against.

Really, though, it went beyond that. She was always working, and for what? Her stupid little business was a failure and it seemed like she'd squandered away all of her war earnings. She probably is mad at herself for wasting her potential, he mused to himself, but, in typical Granger behavior, refuses to address the problem and blames the world for her failures.

"I am not defensive."

"That was quite defensive, really," he said, shaking his head. "Hey, Granger, I have a question."

Her scowl was ugly. "It better be important."

He wrinkled his nose at the blatant dislike emanating off of her. "What happened to all the money you got after the war?"

This threw her for a loop and she shrugged. "I donated it all," Granger replied after barely a beat. "To a foundation that protects orphans."

She doubtlessly got the idea from Potter's poor little childhood or some such bullshit. "Why the hell didn't you keep some?" Draco hit his head lightly to emphasize the failure of her past actions. "Your little ASAP would be off the ground."

Granger's face twisted into a curious mix of guilt and defensive anger. "Don't you think I know that, Malfoy?" She whirled around to pace up and down her little living room, twisting a bracelet on her wrist. Around and around and around. "I was young, okay?" Granger continued, launching into an explanation he hadn't asked for. "I thought my idea would be great. I thought I could change the world. I mean, you made something of your life; why couldn't I?"

"Why didn't you work for the Ministry for a couple years, make connections and raise money?" Draco asked, for once not asking with an ulterior motive. He was genuinely curious. That was the smartest move, one he definitely would have taken in her position. He was confident Granger would have rationalized it out as well and figured the Ministry to be the best option. Why hadn't she taken the opportunity?

Perhaps reassured by Draco's lack of sarcastic comments, Granger turned to face him. "I couldn't bring myself to work there," she admitted, sliding her gaze past his shoulder after a second. "It felt like selling out. I wanted to do this all on my own."

"So you spent five years going nowhere," he said softly, and her head instantly snapped back to face his, fire in her gaze. "Hey, don't get feisty, Granger. You know it's the truth. Why won't you accept any help? Wait, don't tell me. I know." He met her gaze squarely. A flush spread out on her cheeks. "You were too proud."

"Get out, Malfoy," she said suddenly, biting her lip. "Don't come in here and insult me."

"I thought we were partners now," he mocked, snapping back to his 'Bastard Self' instantly. Granger was no different than anybody else he'd met. When confronted with truths she didn't want to hear, she lashed out instead of facing them head on. Really, wasn't she mature enough to handle it? "And you're honestly saying that now, after all the other times I've come in here and insulted you, now you want me out?"

"Just leave," she said softly, yet there was an undercurrent of anger. She was getting upset, he could see, and an upset Granger was an unpredictable one. He sneered at her head and disapparated, not willing to expend any more energy into talking to her. It was strange, but for a minute there, they'd actually been talking.

Then she'd gone and fucked it up in her self-righteous anger.

Friday

12:30 PM

(Hermione Granger's P.O.V)

She collapsed on the couch after he left, torn between anger at him and anger at herself.

How did he do that? How did he come into her apartment, turn her victory into an argument, and manage to read her spot on?

It was true, all of it, but what Malfoy didn't know was that her defensiveness stretched far beyond work issues. She knew it was true. Hermione possessed a formidable brain that was both her greatest strength and biggest weakness. She had the capabilities to analyze exactly what she was doing, determine it bad, and do it anyway.

At first, it had been easy to do everything by herself. It had been the smartest strategy. Ron was wrapped up in trying to land a Quidditch position, Harry and Ginny were caught up in their world-wind romance, and the rest of the Wizarding World was trying to come to grasps with the losses sustained after the war. She'd fled to university with Padma, leaving her old friends behind. Even when she returned, they didn't notice her drawing away, working late into the night, eating crappy take out and wearing herself out.

Hermione had donated the money the day after she'd gotten it. It was dirty money. At the time, she'd believed it to be beneath her to accept a gift like that; it seemed to cheapen her loyalty, her victory. It made her seem like she'd just done it for the money.

She hadn't been entirely honest with Malfoy. She hadn't exactly donated to a foundation; she had started a foundation. The Harry Potter Orphan Foundation could only be traced back to her by illegal means. Hermione had practically given it to Cho Chang, who'd had a change of heart shortly after the war. She'd shaved her head and announced to the world that she was donating herself to charitable non-profit work. Hermione's little boost was all that she needed.

Hermione sighed, cracking her knuckles. It had all gone downhill from there. It had started with Ron accusing her of never being there for him - which she wasn't - and in response she'd begun working later and later hours. She was smart, but not business smart, and Hermione soon found herself spiraling downward into debt. ASAP was going nowhere. Still, she'd refused to admit that it never would.

Standing now, she stretched her back.

Her fall had been fast and brutal. Used to barely speaking to her friends, she found it easier if she didn't confide in them. They didn't understand. They thought she was being prideful. Maybe she was, a little, but she wasn't going to give up! She'd spent nearly three years working on ASAP, and she wasn't going to admit they had been in waste.

Until Malfoy pointed it out.

Hermione tried to muster up the normal hatred. The prat! The bastard! How dare he?

Still, it didn't feel right.

He had read her correctly, and she couldn't even hate him for it. Her best friends, people she hardly even talked to anymore, didn't notice - well, maybe Harry, just a bit. Still, they couldn't tell that their friendship had deteriorated. They still thought it was because she was working too hard. Malfoy probably noticed the night she'd told Harry and Ron about the bond, the scarily observant little prick that he was.

Hermione sighed and massaged her temples. There was no point musing about the past. She would do what it took to achieve the perfect life. She could do it alone. She could. She was Hermione Granger.

She didn't need anybody.