Hermione took two steps into Weasley Wizarding Wheezes and almost immediately questioned her own good judgement. It was her lunch break from work and so far her day had been what could only be described as soul-crushing.
Ron always had a way of making her smile in spite of her troubles. And Draco Malfoy definitely qualified as trouble.
But the sight before her as she rounded their display of Portable Swamps made her stomach sink like a stone. Ron was leaning over the counter toward a pretty blonde witch with a goofy smile that had once given her butterflies.
"I've never slayed a basilisk like Harry or anything—"
"Oh don't be modest! I've read all about you Ron Weasley. You're a true hero."
He grinned crookedly in response and leaned forward another inch, speaking his next words so quietly Hermione couldn't hear them.
She was rooted to the spot, unsure if she should browse the shop and pretend she hadn't heard the interaction or step forward and face the humiliation of this next moment.
And humiliation was exactly all she felt. Not the jealousy she would have endured in sixth year, or the anger she would have felt early in their relationship. Her fiancée of two years was shamelessly flirting with another woman in a public setting, and all she could think about was the heat rising from her chest to her face. For Merlin's sake, he should know better. Show her, his fiancée, the respect she deserved.
With that thought in the forefront of her mind, she stood tall and stepped toward the counter until she was noticed.
"Oh!" said the blonde woman, with a look of recognition.
Ron turned his head and the flirtatious grin fell into a slight grimace, looking thoroughly ashamed. (As well he should.)
Hermione realized she was pursing her lips, a long standing habit that came out often when her patience was tested, and she did her best to school her features. "My apologies for interrupting."
"Oh you weren't—ah—" He turned back to his customer. "Can I ring you up or did you have any other questions?"
Leaning against the counter with a deep breath that caused her nostrils to flair out, Hermione forced herself to smile at the woman and keep busy straightening their countertop display of double dealing dice. As if her day hadn't already been absolute shite, being partnered up with Draco Malfoy on a project that would take weeks of collaboration, now she also felt uncomfortably aware of all the problems simmering just below the surface of her relationship with Ron.
This visit was supposed to make her feel better.
Ron turned her direction as his customer left and took her hands in his. "I'm sorry. It really wasn't what it looked like."
"It is what it is Ronald." Her brow creased, not afraid to show that she was hurt. "Women adore you these days—"
"They adore Harry—"
"They adore you both," she said sharply. "But if you could respectfully refrain from flirting with your admirers, I'd appreciate that."
He nodded with a remorseful look and kissed her fingers, cautiously avoiding her eyes. Ron Weasley was no cheat and she was confident in that, but she was terribly afraid that he thought about it. Often.
"I love you, Hermione."
She swallowed. "I know."
It seemed like a poor time to tell Ron about her assignment with Malfoy, so she made her excuses and apparated back to the ministry with her troubles still weighing on her.
She and Malfoy worked in the somewhat newly formed Anti-Corruption Department on the fourth floor. It was a small team of eight, and for the first several months no one could fathom why he'd been hired, or why he'd want to work for the ministry. But after two years with no new hires or departures, their team was very much like a small family, and everyone knew almost everything about everyone. From Georgette's irritable bowels to Ernie's wife's miscarriage, they were all intimately acquainted with one another, and they were all fairly certain he was trying to set himself apart from his father, who was serving a seven year sentence in Azkaban.
That, and he had an axe to grind against a few ministry officials, who had been fired by Kingsley very shortly after Malfoy was hired.
Even though he seemed to everyone like a changed man, Hermione was skeptical far longer than the others. In fact she'd always been cautious to stay a safe distance from Malfoy, and he from her. They had too much history to put it all behind them and just move on like it hadn't happened.
That said, he was different. Still a spoiled aristocrat with a sometimes obnoxious attitude, but... different. After watching him interact with other people on their small team, she was fairly certain the change was authentic.
He was a decent human being.
But toward her, he was still dry and aloof.
"Take a look at this," Draco said, waiving Hermione to his desk without looking upward. His blond hair was somewhat disheveled after a ten hour workday, and fell forward over his creased brow as he shuffled through a case file. With the top button of his crisp white shirt undone, he looked far more casual than he usually did at the office.
"Did you find something?"
"Brilliant deduction," he replied flatly, pushing his hair off his forehead.
Hermione let out a quiet sigh and rolled her chair across the walkway that separated their desks, the sound of the wheels unnaturally loud on the otherwise quiet floor. It was late, and they were awkwardly alone for the fourth evening in a row.
Ron would be thoroughly annoyed if he knew, but... she still hadn't told him. It wasn't a secret, they just hadn't held any substantial conversations with her late hours and his rather active social life. After years of her saying "go on without me," they both eventually adjusted to the fact that they preferred different lifestyles.
"Higgs accepted a transfer of four thousand galleons last March," Draco said, moving the file folder to the left side of the desk as she scooted up beside him. She glanced at him earnestly and then read the papers in silence under Malfoy's small but elegant desk lamp. It was far more effective than the uncomfortably bluish lights that lingered over each of the eight desks in the room.
She envied him a little sometimes. It was irrational to do so, but she couldn't help it. His perfectly organized desk, perfectly combed hair, perfectly pressed robes. His perfect manor and perfect wife. They were sure to have a perfectly little Malfoy spawn any year now.
He smelled exquisite.
"We need to tie the money back to Fontaine," she said as she leaned across his desk to retrieve his perfect quill, perched in its crystal holder. She sat back in her chair and underlined the relevant entry, almost impressed by the weight and elegance of said quill.
When he didn't reply, she looked up to find him watching her with an unfamiliar expression.
"Malfoy?"
He loosened his collar and looked away, white blond lashes blinking away his thoughts. Something tugged in the back of her mind, prompting her to question whether what she was feeling was truly envy or something else entirely. She slammed the door on that thought and locked it very, very tight.
"They'd have used a middle man," he said after his pause. "This looks like it came from Austria."
"How can you tell?" She asked, not seeing anything at all in the papers that might indicate the country of origin.
"1904. That's a bank code I've seen around," he replied dismissively.
"Do you have accounts outside of Gringotts?"
His eyes flitted to hers, silence answering her admittedly invasive question. She was sort of relieved he didn't make up some crafty lie, as she'd half expected him to do. In this job she was only just beginning to understand all the things obscenely rich people might do with their money to get what they want. Draco, however, seemed incredibly well versed.
She hated that he was a little better at this job than she was. Only a little.
"We can submit a request to trace the account," she said, thinking of the next logical step in their investigation.
"Shacklebolt said it took weeks to get these records from the goblins," he replied. "Tracing an account in another country could take just as long."
"If we file it first thing in the morning, I can ask Hazel to request a rush."
"Ahh, yes. Your new best friend Hazel," he said, emphasizing the last letter.
"I didn't befriend her for favors, Malfoy," she scowled.
"Of course, it's just a...convenient benefit." His white teeth flashed as he smiled. "A complete coincidence."
She groaned. Strategically befriending people was not something she typically did. In fact, it was their job to root out such behaviors in the workplace, but she had to admit that the benefits had crossed her mind when she invited her to lunch last October. "She's a very nice person. I truly do like her."
"She's a swot," he said dismissively. "It's no wonder you two get along."
Hermione couldn't help the spark of ire that shot through her veins. Slamming down his fancy-pants quill, she turned in her chair and glared at him.
"Now listen here-"
He cringed. "Forget I said it."
"I will not. It's completely unprofessional, calling your co-workers names like that-"
"You're right."
"You can't just—" she stopped and blinked rapidly, processing his words.
"I'm sorry," he said, meeting her eyes with a flash of something. She had to admit, he was getting better at apologies since he started working in this department. He almost sounded sincere this time.
"Forgiven," she replied on an exhale, utterly disarmed by his admission and the sudden awareness of their proximity. When had she scooted so near to him? They were so close she could see the lines of grey in his irises, and it did something strange to her stomach.
"This is my favorite quill, Granger." He plucked it from under her hand, grazing his fingers against hers for a split second like it wasn't a big deal. Utterly normal. The last time they'd touched was in fourth year, and he'd made a huge fuss, like her blood status was catching. It had left her feeling humiliated though she'd never admit it aloud, and the feeling returned as they sat side by side, even though he didn't react with any disdain at all this time.
It still stung a little to think that he'd been so disgusted by her, even if it was a long time ago.
Filthy little mudblood.
He proffered her a ministry issued quill, raising a single elegant brow as she stared at him blankly. Torn back to the present, she snatched it from his grasp with a huff, careful not to touch him again.
"Zabini works for Gringotts," Draco said from behind her on Monday morning. He leaned forward, placing his palm flat on her desk. "He can get the information we need."
His cologne was stronger this morning. She imagined him putting it on as he and Astoria readied themselves for the day. Prim and proper. The perfect pureblood couple.
She looked up, again finding herself nearly captivated by his light gray eyes, which looked even more intense in the daylight streaming from the rooms faux windows. "No one is supposed to know about this investigation Malfoy. Not even our own team."
"I'm not going to tell him why I need it," Draco snapped, but though his voice sounded annoyed in a very Malfoy way, his face held no malice. In fact, he looked perfectly charming. "I'm just as invested in this as you are, Granger. I'll make up a cover to get what we need. And we'll have it in a few days instead of sitting on our arses for three fucking weeks, hoping for the best."
"Language."
His eyes darted away in annoyance and met hers again. "Sorry."
"Forgiven. But we'll need official records if we're going to tie Higgs back to Fontaine."
"We might not ever get official records. I did some digging last night on the Wizarding banks in Austria and their privacy laws are bloody impossible."
She shifted around in her seat, contemplating all the many ways this could go wrong. He raised a brow and licked his lips with a small smile, which was surely meant to charm her into saying yes.
Her responding glare did nothing to dissuade him.
"Come on, Granger. Trust me a little."
She held out just a minute longer before relenting. "Fine, if you want to ask Zabini...I won't stop you. BUT—" she held up her index finger, "— I want to go with you."
"You can't," he said matter-of-factly. "He'll never buy my cover story if you're with me. And even if he did..."
"What?" she demanded.
"Zabini deals in favors, Granger. You don't want to be in his debt."
She turned her chair, bringing her even closer to him. Her calf brushed against his accidentally. Neither of them retreated.
"Will you be in his debt?" She tried to sound disapproving but instead it came out with a hint of concern.
"No. He owes me one. But your concern is touching." He grinned quickly and — damn it she looked at his mouth again! Hermione grimaced and turned her chair away from him, a clear dismissal. She didn't need an attractive and very much married man distracting her from her work. This was serious.
He tapped her desk, but she didn't look up. "I'm asking him to meet me at the Leaky tonight after work. Don't stay here alone."
"Your concern is touching Malfoy—" she looked toward him, but he was already walking away.
A/N: Just a little plot bunny I had to get down in writing. Next chapter, eavesdropping and flirtation, and Hermione learns a little about Draco's relationship with his soon to be ex-wife. I'll continue based on interest from readers. Hope you enjoyed the first chapter!