A/N: I own nothing but an over-active imagination.

Don't hate me after that last chapter, please. lol. I know, I know, such a tease!

Hermione's Way

Harry leaned back in his seat and adjusted his glasses as Hermione waited for him to continue, but he merely sat there, looking back at her.

"WELL?!" She finally burst out. Harry only raised his brow in response. "Harry Potter! You are NOT going to leave out the most interesting part, and quite frankly, the only part of your story I cared to hear about!" She fixed her most severe gaze on her friend.

"What did I just say, Mione? He swore me to secrecy."

"Then what was the point of telling me this?" She huffed.

"To show you, you're not alone."

"What? Did you two snogg in the hallway after?" Unbelievable. Secrets, literally direct from the mind of Draco Malfoy, were within her reach, and all that stood in her way was the blasted Chosen One. And he wasn't talking!

Harry rolled his eyes. His friend didn't like it when she didn't get her way, but he had made a promise that night, one he intended on keeping.

"The POINT," he continued, "is there is more to Malfoy than the bigoted prat we grew up with. And to let you know, I see it too. We aren't in school anymore. You can work with him, Mione. He really is quite good. He works hard enough even to satisfy the likes of you. He will keep up his end of the contract. And he can be civil."

Hermione sighed and grabbed the throw pillow again. He was right, of course. Running and hiding was pathetic. She appreciated Harry telling it like it was. She needed that. Plus, she supposed she had still learned something useful about the infuriating ferret.

She had no idea he suffered echoes of that barbaric unforgivable curse. That was one thing, she supposed, she could file away for later. But Harry had ignored the elephant in the room, the part of her admission which pained her the most. So, she sat. Silent.

Harry's hand moved to his face, pushing his glasses up, and pinched the bridge of his nose. His elbow rested on the armchair, and he rested the weight of his head against it.

"As far as…. the incident at the pub." He exhaled. "Merlin, I don't know. He's messed up right now, and so are you, kind of." Hermione's jaw dropped, and Harry quickly backpedaled. "I mean, not like that! There's nothing wrong with you, I just meant, what with Ron and…. You, you just, you know?" His eyes were wild and desperate as he searched for some sort of understanding on Hermione's face.

And as much as she wanted to feel insulted, and as ill as he worded it, she realized what he meant, and he wasn't wrong. "I know, Harry." And she saw relief wash over him.

"It was probably just odd timing." He continued, but she didn't miss his odd phrasing. "I wouldn't worry yourself over it happening again. I mean, come on, it's Malfoy. And you're, you're Hermione. You're about as opposite as two people can get. He was probably drunk." Now she felt offended. Harry was saying a wizard like Malfoy shouldn't be attracted to her? Because she was, her? Not that she wanted Malfoy to want her.

"And what about me?" She questioned. "What does it mean that I didn't stop someone who apparently so could not possibly want me." Harry missed the sarcasm and bitter tone in her voice.

"You're lonely, Mione." Harry moved to sit on the sofa next to her. He tried holding her hand, but she jerked it away. She didn't want his pity. She wasn't lonely. Well, not that lonely. And it explained nothing.

The door to her flat opened and Ginny stormed in, tossing her quidditch gear to the floor as she sat down with a huff. Hermione cringed, noticing the layers of mud caked on her friend begin to break and fall. Her friend had lousy timing.

She began ranting about some witch and her appalling excuse for sportsmanship. Hermione listened politely, but half-heartedly, he mind wandering on other things.

She had a meeting with Malfoy the following Monday.

He wasn't late this time. At precisely 11:30 she heard a knock on her door. This was a good sign, she thought. Perhaps there would be no games this time and she could get through this meeting with her dignity intact.

All hopes of that vanished the moment he stepped through her door. Her eyes widened, and a familiar heat began to pool in her chest.

Draco Malfoy was wearing muggle clothes. Jeans to be exact. Well, he was wearing more than just the jeans, but Merlin, he was wearing the hell out of those jeans. She unconsciously bit her bottom lip as he took the seat in front of her and began rummaging through a worn leather messenger bag. As he did so, she could see the muscles in his arms and shoulders through the thin fabric of his shirt, a black Henley.

This was bad. Images of that body pressing into her own flooded her mind as if triggering something primal inside her. Maybe there had been more truth in Harry's words than she thought. Maybe she really was lonely if all it took was a fit wizard in muggle clothes to get her worked up. But, Malfoy! Wearing jeans! Her brain couldn't process it, so she continued to stare.

"Stop it, Granger." He hadn't looked up, and she was thankful for small blessings.

"Uh." She couldn't formulate a response.

"I had business in muggle London this morning. It took longer than I expected, and I didn't have time to return home first. And I know how much you appall tardiness." That's when he looked up, a glint in his eye, as he sat his bag on the floor, a small card in his hand.

"I didn't know Malfoy Industries did business with Muggles." Malfoy scoffed.

"We don't. Do you think this would be appropriate business attire? Even I know this would be inappropriate for a business meeting in the muggle world. It was a personal errand. Now, let's move on." She thought her eyes might pop out of her head as she pictured Malfoy, walking down the streets of London in those spectacularly tight jeans. He adjusted himself awkwardly in the chair, and Hermione giggled.

"Not used to muggle fashion though, it seems?"

Malfoy fixed her with a narrowed look. "No, and I don't ever hope to become accustomed to it. Muggle clothes are incredibly uncomfortable." His nose crinkled, causing Hermione to laugh outright. He almost looked...cute.

"If you can't remain a professional about this, Granger, I'll reschedule our meeting." He moved to leave, but Hermione shot up from her seat to stop him. This was the best thing that could happen. The strange turn of events had alleviated most of her anxiety over this meeting.

"No, please. Stay. Sit. What was it you wanted to discuss?" He seemed irritated still, but appeased by her apology. He leaned forward, placing the small card he still held on the desk in front of her. She read it, and then looked back to him, quirking an eyebrow.

"Your mother is throwing me a ball?"

"Not you, S.P.E.W." he replied proudly. She didn't quite understand. "You truly are rubbish at politics aren't you, witch? You have you're funding. That's a start. But you need more than just that. You need buzz. You need to get the public excited about it. You need to shmooze. There will be a lot of powerful and wealthy wizards attending. You want your name on their lips and you want them reaching into their pockets as well."

"But, we already have enough money-"

"For now," he interrupted. "But this is only the beginning stage. You have to think long term. It simply won't do, having to campaign every time you want to begin a new initiative. Think of S.P.E.W. as it's own business entity. You need to have a reserve of money in the vaults, and I am laying the means before you. It's not really about dancing. Gala's never are. It's about a bunch of rich old wizards showing off and trying to outdo one another. Whether it's their home, their mistress, or the contents of their vaults, it's always a show. You will simply give them an easy way to demonstrate their wealth, by separating them from their galleons."

"Sounds….dirty," she bristled, and Malfoy's lips spread into a deep grin.

"Sometimes it pays to get a bit dirty, Granger." The way he said her name seemed to vibrate within her, his words themselves sounding filthy as they left his soft pink lips.

"I don't know how to do this," he arched an eyebrow. "shmooze, that is."

He flashed a toothy grin and leaned back in the chair, hands resting on the back of his head, elbows spread wide. "That's what you have me for. I was raised for this, I've already got you one new supporter, and I'm an excellent teacher. You'll have my mother there as well. She's spectacular in action. My father would never have grown the company as he did without her on his arm."

Interesting, she thought. She never dreamed this was part of pureblood witch's upbringing. She didn't like the idea of tricking people out of their money, but she couldn't argue that she could use the publicity of an impressive event. And she was sure this would be much grander than anything she could put together on a Ministry's budget.

"Ok," she said. He clapped his hands together with a grin, he was quite animated today. Perhaps it was the clothes.

"Excellent. My mother will be arranging it. I'll have her send you the guest list. Feel free to add anyone. The Manor can more than accommodate the additions, I'm sure. I'll keep in touch as well. There will be a few things we need to review to get you ready. But I've got another meeting. I should be off." He stood and turned to leave, and her eyes landed again on his rear. What was happening to her?

"Wait! The date. June 3rd. That's only a fortnight away. Can't we push it out a bit further?" She looked over her calendar as he eyed her wearily. "How about, June 11th? That's another full week, so it will give us more time to-"

"No." Her head shot up, and she was surprised to see his face masked again.

"But why?"

"The date is set. My mother has already begun setting appointments. June 3rd, and no later." His tone gave no room for debate, but Hermione would not back down, not this time. She stepped out from and around her desk, stopping only when she was standing directly in front of him, hands on her hips.

"Why does EVERYTHING always have to be your way, Malfoy? And why are you always so severe? It was only a suggestion to give us more time to plan an effective event. It's fine if your mother has already made commitments to that date, but you could just say so, rather than getting all huffy about it." His face remained unmoved, and she started to turn away, but then a new wave of anger washed over her, and she squared her shoulders, pointing a slender finger into his chest.

"This is MY project, Malfoy! MINE! It would do you well to remember that. And that means I have the final say in what happens with it. Me, not you!" She poked him again. He looked down to her finger, as it dug into his chest, then returned his eyes to meet hers. They were cold, and it sent a shiver down his spine, but she did not retreat.

"You are an investor, and I appreciate your support, but this all began with my proposal and my hard work. So next time, ask me, don't tell me. If you have a problem with that, then you can take your galleons and go, go…. go sit on your broom handle for all I care!"

Hermione took a small step back, breathing in deeply and lowering her hand. Her resolve faltered slightly when she noticed the rigid stance of his body. It looked odd, wrapped from head to toe in muggle clothing instead of wizarding robes, but it was just as cold. Just as imposing. And it made her feel just as small. But she knew she was right. She had a point. He could not bark orders at her and she would not allow him to take control of her work. No matter how amazing his arse looked in jeans.

Malfoy nodded. "As you wish." And then exited her office.