TRIGGERS: This story contains major character death, rape/non con, attempted sexual assault, torture, attempted murder. It also contains graphic consensual sex. Hermione is 18 in the story.
AN: This is a resurrected story - 15 chapters has already been written they just need expanding on. It was originally written before Deathly Hallows came out, so all flashbacks and characters will be as they were from Half-Blood Prince and before. Also the fact that I never finished this story has haunted me for over 10 years so I hope rejuvenating it will help me to finish it.
Characters: Hermione Granger, Rufus Scrimgeour, Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley, Ronald Weasley, Arthur Weasley, Molly Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape, Barty Crouch Jr. Petunia Dursley, Vernon Dursley, Dudley Dursley, Piers Polkiss, OFC Doreen Pecksniff, Dolores Umbridge...
Important Pairings: Hermione/Lucius, Hermione/Severus, Hermione/Kingsley, Hermione/Barty, Harry/Ginny, Arthur/Molly (This is a LUMIONE story first and foremost, he has rivals!)
Monday
Day One
Hermione was quivering with excitement, It seemed that the Professors of Hogwarts did look at the suggestion box after all. At last, she thought, it was a wonderful feeling to be this appreciated. She placed the suggestion that students in their final year should take two weeks out before exams to have experience in the career that the pupils wanted to go into before they left school in her fifth year. Two weeks was sufficient enough to let the person know that they were going in the right direction before any life-changing decisions could begin to blossom and bare fruit.
When asked where her strengths and weaknesses lay in an informal interview through Rufus Scrimgeour the Minister of Magic, it was clear what she was to become; Hermione was going to apply to be a Personal Assistant. She loved nothing better than organising other people, making sure that they were kept on schedule and always keeping one step ahead of whomever her temporary boss was going to be, thrilled her to her core. Hermione had practically been a secretary for Harry and Ron since she had known them.
Despite her enthusiastic excitement for the coming day of her first taste of work in her own world, it did not stop the ache that Hermione held in her chest. Despising how her ropes of steel seemed to morph into frayed threads of weak wool, threatening to snap under the pressure of the overwhelming panic of the unknown. Currently, she was sitting on a marbled bench in the foyer of the Ministry awaiting the arrival of the person who had volunteered to be her two-week boss with nervous anticipation, digging her fingers into the seat so hard her knuckles turned white.
Unlike her best friends she did not know whom her boss was going to be. I hope that I am going to be Arthur's PA, heaven knew he needed all the extra organisation I could offer him, she thought as others in her year were being picked up by their own. Plus she had known Arthur almost as long as she had known Ron and her heart filled with love for the unassuming but secretly powerful man. A sneer graced her lips when she saw Pansy trotting after Rita Skeeter with a huge grin on her face; she wondered how long that was going to last.
Suddenly nerves were getting the better of her and she triple-checked that she was respectfully attired. That morning her mother walked into her bedroom holding a skirt suit with white blouse that had pinhole swirls on the corner of the flared collar, some strappy black sandals and clear tights. Fortunately, her mother knew to leave the choice of undergarments to her. With a flick of her wand, Hermione had her hair in a relaxed chignon topped with a tortoiseshell slide.
Now she was terrified as most of her year had been paired off. What if no one wanted her? Hermione's stomach developed butterflies as she saw the Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, coming her way. No, she cannot be working for the Minister! Can she? Hermione stood up and smoothed down the front of her suit and breathed on her hand to make sure her breath was all right.
"Miss Granger," the Minister greeted the young woman.
Hermione had briefly met the Minister at Dumbledore's funeral, immediately she decided she'd had nothing but hatred of the man. Although, she sighed, I suppose I should show cordiality as he will be my ultimate boss sometime in the near future. She was frightened by the prospect that he was going to be her boss now.
"Minister," Hermione said politely, though she caught a tremor of fear in her tone.
"Let me take you to my office where you will meet the Wizard whom you will keep in line for the next two weeks."
Hermione smiled sweetly outwardly showing the man that she was in his steady hands. Though if Ron had been there both would have exchanged a sarcastic eye-roll as he would have mimicked the Minister through the art of mime. One of his most endearing qualities was aping mannerisms of any supercilious wizard they had come across. Just because she respected authority as a general rule, the individuals placed in positions of power were another matter entirely; since his shameless idea to use Harry as the Ministry's poster boy, the Minister had taken the rare position in Hermione's Mental Book of Adults She Will Disrespect.
To the ordinary person the simpering smile was one of absolute deference to the man escorting her through the building. The Minister offered her his arm in an act of civility. He led her into a lift and Hermione felt her stomach go into her throat as the Executive lift made its way up the various floors of the busy Ministry, stopping for the select few, which as a budding socialist embarrassed Hermione and made her feel like a fraud.
The spectacular lift held a darts board, a mini-bar, toilets and some comfortable leather chairs around tables for people to chat and share drinks with. With smooth ease Rufus led her to the round chairs after giving her a cool lemonade once others had settled.
"This is the style, eh?" he asked, his blue eyes sparkled as they glanced appreciatively down her frame. Lingering long at her smooth shaved legs. "Relax, this is going to take some time," he took a seat opposite her and sipped his own beverage. "We're right at the top and it takes enough time to warrant all this I can assure you. It is an urban myth that Abraxas Malfoy was conceived in this same lift."
What could she do with that information? Just as she opened her mouth to form a reply the lift came to a sudden halt, the Minister turned to her and smiled. The doors smoothly and silently opened. His hand held hers as he gracefully led her out of the lift. The skinny trim secretary eyed them with wide-mouthed shock as they walked past her to his office. Hermione gasped at the size and opulence of the room. It was akin to a Penthouse suite in a luxury hotel! The light streaming in from the windows cast long powerful shadows along the wide oak floor. Hermione stood stock still to be able to take in such grandeur. The elegance of the office almost made her true ambition die just to be the Minister for Magic,
"I want to have an office like this," she whispered.
Rufus offered for her to take a seat and she accepted silently. Awestruck into immediate obedience, Hermione slowly sat on the large wing-back dragon-hide and oak chair.
"Coffee?" Rufus asked.
"Yes please," she replied with a heavy sigh. "White, medium, no sugar."
Rufus raised an eyebrow. She was obviously used to giving commands. He carefully watched her face as a kaleidoscope of emotions shifted and faded across her sweet features. Impatiently, Hermione started drumming her fingers on her delicious thighs. If his plan worked he would have her as his own undersecretary – it will be poetic justice to be rid of the pink abomination who keeps trying to hit on him. The leonine man was still appreciating the professional form of Miss Hermione Granger, when his own secretary came into the room.
"Miss Pecksniff," he sighed, "bring Miss Granger a medium sugarless coffee please," Miss Pecksniff nodded, smiled uncertainly towards the young witch in the chair, and fiddled about with her glasses, "yes, Miss Pecksniff?"
"Sir, shall I show him in as well?" the secretary asked as she pushed her glasses up her nose jumbling files in her arms awkwardly as she tottered up to the Minister's desk to place them reverently in his in-tray.
"Oh, he's arrived?" Damnation, he had no time now to scoop her up. His cool expression defied the burning anger at being thwarted. If Rufus hated anything it was being thwarted. Without batting a single eyelash, he answered with cold calm, "How long has he been waiting?"
"About an hour, sir."
"Then, yes, show him in!"
Hermione began to fidget slightly in her seat, pulling the hemline of her skirt down to cover her knees whilst she was suddenly overcome by an urge to examine her feet in exact detail. Musing all the while what she would do if she disliked the choice of boss, moments later she firmly decided that she would like whomever the Ministry had chosen to help her develop and hone her skills. After all, she sighed, the person clearly was in a powerful position, perhaps I can do some good in my time here. A mendacious air seemed to envelope the large room as the door finally opened. Hermione heard a confident step thud gently into the room.
That was a good sign, Hermione thought, at least the Wizard would be one that would know exactly what he wants.
"Ah, Miss Granger, please rise from your seat to meet your overseer," Rufus said politely.
Hermione got up smoothed down the front of her navy suit again and turned around, her face still looking at the floor.
"I am looking forward to training you, Miss Granger," a smooth, cultured voice interrupted her pleasant thoughts. Suddenly her senses froze, her jaw dropped in shock. Hermione's heart stopped beating for a second and she slowly lifted her head to see if her memory was right! After gulping down some air she sank back in her chair as she took in who her temporary boss was going to be: "I have heard good reports of how punctual, accurate and fast you are in your work, I could not help but be intrigued and picked you as soon as the scheme was approved."
"Mr Malfoy?" she squeaked – she really wish she had not allowed Molly to feed her a full English breakfast with all the trimmings, especially after the soft boiled eggs she'd had at home, she realised projectile vomiting would not help in this situation so she just sat there spluttering whatever first popped in her head. "I-I- there must be some sort of mistake… I mean…" Shut up, Hermione, you're sounding like Susan in Chronicles of Narnia. "How – how do you do?"
"I am quite well, thank you for enquiring," he smirked taking delight in her discomforted and awkward welcome. "I am sure you know the basic itinerary sent to you by the Ministry – I see you have followed dress and grooming etiquette even if you managed to fudge the correct greeting, still you are a quick learner."
"I read it," Hermione replied tilting her chin defiantly glaring up at a man who should, by rights, be dead or in Azkaban. Her gut churned as she witnessed how Lucius just stood there leering at her; like she was some bug to squash under his shoe. "I knew it was decided by the Ministry over who got to pick whom."
"Yes, and you were quite a popular little thing – Kingsley Shacklebolt is completely furious you did not end up with him – I think he might have used it as an excuse…"
"Kingsley is an honourable man – I would have been proud to have been supervised by him."
"Now," Rufus said, to stop Lucius from revealing exactly how popular a choice she was for varying reasons known only to the individuals. He also did not wish Miss Granger to know that he also desired her to replace the gangly Miss Doreen Pecksniff. "I might suggest you two spend at least half an hour in casual chat before you start training her."
Lucius smirked at the Minister and bowed slightly. He then offered his arm to Hermione who took it tentatively, shivering in fear the moment she realised she was going to be alone under his command. Charily, she glanced from the corner of her eyes to see his expression, blinking in shock when his smug profile met her earnest gaze. She walked as steadily as she could so as not to collapse at his side. Lucius walked her out of the room and back to the 'luxury' lift. His office was on the third floor.
"So," Hermione said, her lips trembling in an effort to start a conversation with this intimidating Wizard, "it's true then. You have given names of your acquaintances and got back your cushy position in the Ministry in return."
Lucius turned towards her. She had spoken to him without looking at him. He cocked his head to one side and contemplated her profile.
"The Dark Lord used my son to punish me," Lucius said dispassionately, "it was the last straw. He had truly shown his true colours the night he murdered my son. Potter was right about him being just a glorified murderer."
Hermione was gobsmacked at that strange confession. Lucius Malfoy; proud, arrogant, Lucius Malfoy had conceded to a young boy… an enemy? Lucius noticed he had startled the young woman. He had told the truth, he saw no point in lying.
"What of Mrs. Malfoy?" Hermione asked quietly.
"She died of a broken heart that very night," he replied with a burdened sigh. "It might not have appeared so, Miss Granger, but I did like my family. I have galleons by the score but there were a scant few women like Narcissa, and we could never have another child after Draco was born."
Hermione remained silent as he drifted off into his own mind,
The grief he felt the moment he had come back from their double funeral – Bellatrix fawning and simpering over their so-called Lord and Master made him sick to the stomach and if he could expel the acid regurgitating in his throat he would have spat it out in her hideous face.
This had turned dark and personal extremely quickly, she was sure this was more than the usual casual chat a witch held with her boss. Then again that was one of her failings, she was awful at small talk. Lucius sighed as he gazed upon the perfectly attired muggleborn, and then the lift stopped. The doors opened silently, and Lucius offered his hand to the young woman.
Hermione accepted the hand, with swan like grace she rose from the comfortable seat. Her hand was now settled firmly in the crook of his elbow as they walked down the hall towards his office. It was not as spacious or as light as the Ministers, but it was still luxurious none the less. Hermione noted the black leather corner settee at the far end of the room. A low-slung stained-glass table filled the square – she could see shimmering dolphins, mermaids and sparkling jewels. All of them moving in liquid harmony around the flat of the desk.
He took her to a chair and sat her down without a word as he walked around the desk to sit on the chair opposite her. The rich wood of the desk with the green leather inlay separated her from him a few feet. To her, though, it felt like miles and that bothered her for some reason. Tilting his head he stretched his arms across the desk, clasping his hands together firmly settling them. Suddenly, he morphed from Lucius Malfoy the arrogant aristocrat – to Lucius Malfoy the calm entrepreneur.
"Miss Granger," he said in a tone that expected each of his commands to be obeyed without question. "I am a harsh taskmaster I think you'll find. I expect perfection and I expect efficiency, organisation and the ability to keep your head about when things start getting hectic... and believe me there are hectic days."
"Yes, I can keep my head whilst others are losing theirs, it is a strength I feel."
"Good," he said. "I understand that you are not to be paid for your services these next two weeks but, contrary to popular belief, I am actually quite generous when it comes to my money... I have squared this with the Minister that you are to get slightly less than the minimum wage. I want you to have some sort of incentive after all. The minimum day for a young Witch of your age and skill is 1 gold galleon and seven sickles a week. I will pay you instead twelve silver sickles per hour... would that be sufficient?"
Would that be sufficient; no question is there? Hermione mulled over the proposition. It was quite generous for him to pay out of his own pocket. Unless, she narrowed her eyes and her lips thinned, there was a quid pro quo with subheadings and paragraphs to this unexpected perk.
"It's a damn sight better than nothing," she said aloud possibly without meaning to. Lucius smirked a little at how surprised she proclaimed that spoken thought.
"Any questions?" Lucius asked as he leant back in his dragon leather swing chair, and steepled his fingers in the meantime.
"Yes, how long is lunch?"
"An hour," Lucius smiled.
"Where is my desk?"
Lucius smile grew wider and he gestured over to a desk situated by a window, showing what the weather was outside, as the Ministry was situated under the streets of Muggle London they had enchanted windows to show the weather of the moment… although some people enchanted theirs to be permanently warm and sunny.
Hermione didn't realise she would be in such close proximity of Lucius Malfoy... she was hoping for a wall to separate them.
"My lunch hour and your lunch hour is to be the same. I take lunch at one till two."
Hermione nodded. Harry and Ron had managed that self-same lunch hour. Lucius got up off the seat and went to her.
"There is a canteen here in the Ministry," he explained.
"Run by house elves I imagine," Hermione muttered, her nose wrinkled in disgust. Lucius heard and noticed her subtle gesture, but he simply chose to ignore. His son had told him all about her little campaign to free elves. Not realising that she was not the first that had tried and failed. "Poor brainwashed things!"
"Now," he snapped a little more harshly than he intended, he disliked anyone who failed to see the wood for the trees. "Let me show you where the canteen is."
She took his offered arm again, and silently made their way to the canteen. She noticed that it looked much like a school canteen. The seats were plastic and the tables were cheap with wobbly legs. She looked around distinctly unimpressed.
"You lunch here?" Hermione asked disbelief evident in her voice.
"No," he coughed shuffling his feet in a rare show of shame. "I have a better place to lunch. This is for general staff and work experience people..."
Hermione nodded. It would be too incongruous for Lucius Malfoy to sit here and lunch. It was too common for his tastes.
"So," he said. "You know where everything is."
"Apart from a lavatory," Hermione replied.
"Ah, of course, there is one two doors down from my office on the same side," he replied.
Hermione nodded. "That appears to be everything."
She squared her shoulders and they were just about to walk back to his office when they bumped into Arthur Weasley with his hand proudly adorning his sons shoulder.
"Mr Malfoy," Arthur said coldly.
"Arthur," Lucius replied.
Curiosity prevailed, and Lucius peeked down at the son. Without realising it the usually composed man sighed as he remembered his own son who had been brutally murdered in front of him. Also, though he would never admit this, he had always been jealous of Arthur Weasleys profundity of children.
"Showing Ron around the Ministry," Arthur said with a hint of smugness in his voice as he squeezed Ron's shoulder. For once Hermione felt a small swell of pity rise up inside her for Lucius Malfoy.
"Mr Weasley," Hermione said respectfully, "please don't."
"Ah, Weasley," Lucius said turning towards her. "I don't suppose you know who my PA is for the next two weeks. I rather gathered you wanted her too. I'll leave you to find your own way back Miss Granger, I trust you took in the details."
Hermione nodded. She was one of the few first years that didn't get lost around Hogwarts in her first week. Lucius walked past Arthur who stepped aside.
"Wow," Ron breathed. "You're stuck with a right smarmy bastard!"
"He's not a bastard!" Hermione suddenly leapt to her temporary boss's defense. "If I am prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt so should you! He is prepared to pay me twelve silver sickles an hour."
"But that's against the rules!" Ron exclaimed.
"Perks of working with a Slytherin," Hermione said a little proudly.
"Be careful, Hermione," Arthur cautioned. "I was here the first time he had supposedly turned."
"The first time he supposedly turned his wife and child were still alive," Hermione said. "This time his son is murdered, and his wife died of a broken heart, and …"
"Yeah?" Ron sneered.
"Never mind, you won't believe it either way."
"He'll say anything," Arthur's tone was dangerous and suddenly Hermione thought she saw him shimmer into a bear. "I am not comfortable with the idea that you are working in such close proximity with him."
"Don't worry, Arthur," her expression warmed at his paternal protectiveness, "he's been gentlemanly, so far anyway."
Arthur sighed. If only she knew what Lucius sometimes expected his secretary's to do, she was not his daughter so officially he could not say anything. With a smile on her face Hermione impulsively hugged Ron and then walked away back to Lucius office. Somehow Arthur's hatred of Lucius and Slytherins in general irked her. Gryffindors were supposed to be above all that. She walked down the hall and opened the door to Lucius office.
His back was turned, and his hands were joined together at the curve above his hips. Hermione could tell the man was lost in his own world.
"Close the door," he said quietly. She did so with a firm snap. He turned around and looked at her. Hermione felt he was staring right through her. "Why did you do that?"
"Do what?" Hermione asked.
"Defend me?" Lucius asked. Hermione furrowed her brow, and she felt awkward. "When Arthur and his young son spoke against me."
"I felt that Arthur was in the wrong," Hermione whispered as she bunched her fingers in the excess material of her skirt. "I know it must be some sort of revenge on his part, but it is still wrong to tease a man that has lost people he cares about. No matter whose side they are on."
"I did not list loyalty as one of the things I wanted from you, as you are only here for two weeks."
"It's just my nature, sir," Hermione stood tall and proud, her defiant chin jutting out – she was like a Viking warrior Princess prepared to fight to the death – he could not believe how lucky he was to have received first dibs. "I hate seeing people suffer. He had no right to boast when you had lost everyone who meant so much to you and filled your heart with love. It was tacky and tasteless. Even if he did it to protect me."
Lucius remained quiet as she continued her speech, taking time to contemplate the young woman standing metres from him. Already she had proved to be good company. At least he could talk to her, which surprised him rather, he expected a quivering little princess – not this hard-nosed elegant witch. The little girl he had met in Flourish and Blotts had indeed grown up. Confused, he realised that he did not know how to tackle the young woman before him.
"Here's your desk," he gestured to one that almost matched his in size just for something to say, even though he was aware Hermione knew where it was. "You might want to er, settle in, and…"
At his blundering attempts to recover decorum Hermione's lips quirked in a half smile, she thought it was rather charming the way he blushed and tried to bluster his way back to confidence. Mistakenly she raised her eyes to gaze into his, underestimating how mesmerizing they were. Merlin! Those eyes held her, enthralled her like no other. Her legs were turned to jelly as her inelegant tottering confirmed.
In a state of boredom as no orders had yet been given, Hermione checked her watch and wished she had not! Two hours to go for lunch, what the hell was she supposed to do between now and then? Suddenly, several unruly stacks of parchment appeared on the desk, littering its once pristine surface. If there was something Hermione despised it was a messy work surface. Squaring her shoulders she walked with purpose to turn chaos into order. Efficiently, she organised the parchments into two smart piles.
Once Lucius was satisfied that she could use her own initiative he strode over to his own desk and sorted through the growing pile of mail only he had authorisation to peruse and answer. Three trays appeared, and he began to sort through them. Calmly whizzing through them as a person who had known where to put what with little effort. Ones to answer were put into the gold tray, the ones that needed careful consideration in the silver tray, the ones he needed a second opinion on in the bronze tray. The rest, like circulars and memorandums from Umbridge, he dumped in a wastepaper basket.
After taking a few moments to gather his thoughts he began to look through the silver tray pile. Pursing his lips as he scanned the parchment, a crinkle settled in the centre of his brow. If he continued like this he would never get around to opening the second pile coming in. He read the first three letters without looking at his new companion. After the fourth one he began to sneak surreptitious glances over her way.
Hermione had smartly organised her desk to her satisfaction, filling empty ink pots with precision not allowing a drop to land on the beautiful dark wood, finally, she took out a knife kit and picked out some quills at random. Some she threw in the bin, others she smiled as they were already prepped. The blunt ones she took her knife and rested the quill on the little flute made for such an occasion, it had little nobs to twist. It was a rather tedious operation – certain types of quill needed to to write at different angles. This was the task Lucius always set his new employees – a mundane job but one that had to be done by swallowing pride but the line of intellectual witches before him who had to do this asinine chore before Hermione often quit by the third day. It was a test to see who took true pride in their work. No one could complain that the quills most certainly would not be to blame for a misspelling. A well angled, sharpened fletched quill was a PA's best friend. Surreptitiously he watched how scrupulous she was in her task, what he saw ticked a box is his mental examination form.
It was then that Lucius decided she needed to get out of his sight. She was tempting him already. Ice cold stalagmites were coated in reinforced steel guarding his metaphorical love, he was almost feeling the shield melting at the sight of her in such lovely summer sandals. No good could come of his hard work should rumours start that his frozen heart was beginning to thaw. Narcissa and Draco were dead only six months previously; it seemed tasteless to start thinking about looking for a new wife. New wife? Where did that thought spring from? This girl was still at school for crying out loud!
Lucius had not let himself cry over the deaths of his wife and son; why should he? Tears would not bring them back, so what was the point? Yet he was suddenly overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of emotions and memories that attacked him, especially ones of Draco as a care-free young child.
He looked at what she was wearing with distaste showing on his features. He decided that the muggle outfit would not do. She was working for a pure-bred wizard and should dress accordingly.
"Miss Granger," he said. She turned around and swung her legs to the side of the chair so that she could face him. His eyes hooded over at the sight of her soft shapely limbs.
"Yes, sir?" she asked keeping her tone matter-of-fact and gentle.
"I suggest that you finish work at least two hours earlier so that you can purchase work appropriate robes," she opened her mouth, but he raised his hand as a gesture to silence her objections before she could make them. "Money doesn't have to be a problem, that outfit, however, is."
Hermione looked down and frowned figuring out what could be wrong with an outfit her own mother would wear when Lucius sighed. She snapped her head back up.
"What's wrong with it?"
"It's muggle," he said. "You are a Witch, Miss Granger, I think it's about time you started dressing like one. Go to Madam Malkins and charge it to my account."
Hermione managed to stop herself from blinking in shock.
"Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?"
"Yes," he replied. "I'd like a cup of Irish coffee. You know how to make one of those don't you?"
"My Irish grandmother taught me when I was six years old," she said.
Lucius smiled. Hermione got up and he gestured towards a door, Hermione opened the door and walked into the room. She saw a cauldron charmed to keep a permanent supply of hot water. She found the coffee and put in a level scoopful in the coffee pot and ladled some water in and placed the plunger around the rim. Shortly afterward Hermione found a nice china cup a nearly full bottle of whiskey and freshly whipped cream. Gently, but firmly, she pressed the plunger down, poured the coffee in and then added a capful of whiskey, spooned some whipped cream on top then sprinkled some cinnamon to decorate. A silver teaspoon was the finishing touch. Carefully, she carried the beverage into the office and gingerly placed it on Lucius desk.
As she leant over Lucius caught a whiff of her perfume and closed his eyes as he inhaled. He was trying to reform himself. The old Lucius would think nothing of toying with her affections; but he was a new Lucius. Supposedly in control and… he shuddered… nice.
"Anything else, sir?" Hermione asked. Lucius tried to count to ten in his head.
"That will be all," he said. Then he noticed she didn't make herself one. "You know, Miss Granger, when I have a cup of coffee you can make yourself one if you want one."
Hermione smiled. She went back to the kitchenette and made herself a cup of ordinary coffee. She went back to her desk and glared balefully at the stack of letters placed there, she swore they weren't there a moment ago. Surreptitiously Lucius watched her as she rifled through them and then she turned with a bemused expression on her face.
"I would like you to write a reply to each of those letters using your own words. I will look through each of your reply's and correct them – which you must copy meticulously by hand before they are ready for the post."
Hermione smiled and resisted the urge to clap her hands happily at such responsibility. With an enthusiastic bounce she sat down in her chair. Methodically organising her work space; first arranging clean parchment in one pile, the ink-pot and quills to one side, then the letters in front of her. Smoothly she dipped her quill in the ink and picked up her first letter, chewing her lower lip as she contemplated how to reply, then she drew a clean sheet of parchment to begin writing. Lucius watched her every move, he found that she looked adorable when her brow was creased at the centre, her eyes glazed over in contemplation, nibbling her lower plump lip.
Within ten minutes Hermione had written the first three replies in peace and quiet. The perfect secretary, Lucius thought. What a joy. So far she was not asking irritating questions at a mile a minute, although he could see her begin a question several times. She had opened her mouth; he could hear the hitch in her breath preparing to talk, and then saw her shoulders deflating as the unspoken question never made its way out of her lips.
"Lunch time, Miss Granger, I suggest you be back here five minutes before the hour is up."
A little yip of fear exited her mouth as the calm silence had broken, her eyes blinked rapidly before she paid attention to Lucius, her eyes wide with shock as if she had forgotten where she was and who she was with. As for Lucius he had to hold in a smirk at how much like a startled kitten she resembled, Frantically, Hermione tidied what she could of her desk then she stood up taking hold of her handbag. Mumbling as she did so, Hermione unclasped the metal lock on top of her bag then reached in to bring out her purse and quickly checked the amount of money she'd possessed.
"Good," she sighed with relief. "It's enough for today."
Lucius had promised her that he would pay her at the end of each day. So she would have to have money to have lunch here without having to go to Gringotts each morning beforehand to exchange currency. One thing she was sure about was how Lucius liked to be viewed by the world therefore he most certainly would not wish to see his PA bring sandwiches in a tin foil wrap to eat slowly at her desk to control the pangs of hunger throughout the rest of the day.
Once Hermione reached the cafeteria she zoomed around the room to find her friends, when she did she smiled then she walked up to the food counter. After she had picked out what she wanted for her lunch her friends had spotted her, Harry waved her over to their table and Hermione bounced over to them. She set it down on the table and sidled in the seat next to Harry opposite Ron.
"So," Harry said, "who is your boss?"
"Lucius Malfoy," Hermione answered promptly. Harry choked on his sausage. Hermione rolled her eyes and thumped him on his back. Once Harry had recovered she said: "He has been inordinately gentlemanly; and kind, and he's even paying me daily."
Ron narrowed his eyes at her. "It sounds like you like the git."
"That git has just lost his wife and son. Might I remind you two that Draco was tortured to the point of insanity by his own Aunt, and then murdered brutally by that despotic moron? Might I remind you that Narcissa; his mother; had to stand and watch the ceremony and died that night of a broken heart. I've just spent the whole morning in a room on my own with him and he hasn't said or done anything nasty at all."
"Yeah but…" Ron began but was quickly interrupted by his friend.
"In fact Harry, he agrees with your assessment of You-Know-Who. He has shown me around and he's even prepared to buy me some work robes. He's not nice, and he never will be but he's different from the man we met before our second year."
"This is the girl that still trusts Snape," Harry muttered.
"I do still trust Snape, Harry," Hermione retorted whilst savagely stabbing a piece of chicken breast in her salad. "Anyway, how's your mornings been."
"Mines been great," Ron said thankful that the conversation had been changed so quickly. "Dad is such a cool person to work for."
Hermione reserved her judgement. Harry turned around, his intelligent green eyes scrutinising the girl he will always view as his sister. She seemed unharmed and, better yet, not traumatised or a quivering mess so he would take her at her word for now.
"Kingsley's a real taskmaster," he bounced on his seat fully charged and excited. His eyes glistened with childish joy that Hermione was happy to see. "I might not feel like going to the cinema tonight, Hermione."
"Oh," Ron said disappointed. "I was looking forward to that."
Hermione shook her head smirking as she continued to masticate her lunch in silence. She felt she had been spoilt in her temporary employer. When she first found out it was him she almost screamed about the unfairness of life, but he was actually all right. He was a businessman. When it came down to it Hermione believed that Lucius was a changed man or had the motives to change.
"Why is he going to buy you robes?" Harry suddenly asked.
"Because he says I am a witch and should dress like one," Hermione said pushing the empty bowl out of the way before digging into her chocolate brownie.
"Lucius Malfoy allows you to be a witch?" Ron scoffed.
"Yes," she replied.
"I don't believe it," he replied.
"I don't think he noticed that I noticed; but he was blushing when he looked at my legs. I think that was the main problem," she explained. Although she was looking off into the distance as she did so, not noticing the way Ron had puffed up at the the mere suggestion of Lucius ogling the girl he…well… "Anyway, tonight I have to go shopping. Good job there is no such thing as Nine To Five in the Wizarding world."
"You almost look deliriously happy at the thought that Lucius Malfoy was eyeing you like you were a…a…"
"A what, Ronald?" her tone turned frosty. "Say it, I dare you!"
"A…Street Woman."
The indignation on both Harry's and Hermione's faces were eerily matched at Ron's misinterpretation of the statement. Then she giggled at how old-fashioned Ronald Weasley could be sometimes.
"Trust me Ron," she sighed. "Lucius Malfoy will go back to his mansion and have parties involving witches far more sophisticated than I. As for calling me a Street Woman just because a man is looking appreciatively at me is so 19th century. Grow up, we're not children anymore."
In fact, she thought, I find myself flattered at the thought of being eyed up by an intelligent, older man. It boosted her confidence somehow and made her feel feminine and beautiful in a way she had not felt since Viktor Krum laid eyes on her.
Harry peered through his unruly black fringe at Hermione and noticed that her morning with Lucius Malfoy had given some light to Hermione's eyes and cheeks that he didn't like.
"He looked at your legs?" Ron asked in a demanding voice.
"Yes," Hermione replied shrugging her shoulders. "I've got them you know."
"You should be disgusted," Ron said. His ears turned pink.
"Hmm, well, at least I haven't snogged him in front of everybody!"
"I keep telling you, 'Mione, that I didn't mean it."
"For the last time, Ronald, my name is Hermione. Not all of us feel the need to shorten our names," Hermione said screwing her napkin in a tight ball in anger.
As she had finished her lunch she quickly stood up, threw the napkin on the table, huffed and stormed out of the cafeteria. Her hair flouncing behind her almost crackling with pent-up magic, she was nearly out of the door when...
"Where are you going?" Harry yelled.
"I am going to the foyer," she replied harshly. "I wish not to be followed."
Once she was down in the foyer she stopped to look at the fountain statue. Loudly sighing before sinking down on the seat provided, preparing to be splashed. Moments later she felt the presence of someone behind her.
"I told you not to follow me, Harry!"
"I think you should turn around, Miss Granger," she did and groaned.
"Sorry, sir, I just wanted to look at this beautiful statue," she said. "There's nothing like this in the Muggle world."
Lucius glanced up at the statue, a thing he had taken for granted for most of his working life. She turned around and he saw her wipe a tear or two away from her eyes.
"My grandmother used to say to me whenever I was depressed that a thing of beauty is a joy forever."
"So it is," Lucius breathed. He had two beautiful things in his life, but he didn't feel joyous at knowing them at this moment in time. "Miss Granger, I suggest that you leave at 2:30pm. I owled Madam Malkin to expect you, and I'll walk you to the apparition point."
"Thank you, Mr Malfoy," Hermione said.
"We best head back to the office, once there I will read through your replies, and show you where you've set the right tone or sound offensively prim."
"Mr Malfoy," Hermione began, "if I do a good job will you be a reference for me?"
"If you do a good job, Miss Granger, I might not let you return to Hogwarts," he answered smoothly, his eyes were hooded over so she could not see the true expression in them but it did cause her to stop abruptly and stare stupidly at him, her mouth gaping open in absolute shock. It did not take Lucius long to realise that she had stopped walking and turned his head around with his back still turned to her with a tilt of his head examining her reaction to the minutest detail. "How do you feel about that?"
"I don't know," she said truthfully.
He smirked then powerfully strode ahead of her, not waiting for her to catch up. She caught up and was soon by his side again. He had stopped a few times to talk to associates. His eyes widened when he spotted someone, and he stepped into the shadows and grabbed her hand and pulled her to him.
"What the...?"
"Umbridge," he snarled.
"I thought that you two were friends," she whispered.
"I try not to talk to her as much as I possibly can," he said. "She's vile!"
Hermione stifled a giggle. He snaked an arm around her waist and held her fast against his chest. Hermione could hear his heart thumping and she felt the rise and fall of his chest with his steady breathing and his breath fell on the nape of her neck making her shiver. She felt safe in his arms.
"Why are you hiding me?" she asked. "I know how to handle the pink toad."
Lucius chuckled, and it vibrated through her body. She liked the feel of it playing through her body.
"Yes, I heard all about that little game," he murmured, he leant his head down, "I was impressed."
Hermione sighed as she felt his lip graze against her earlobe.
"I want to tackle her," she murmured. She turned her head around and their lips clashed against each other.
Umbridge had passed and Lucius reluctantly let her go. He stepped out of the shadow and Hermione followed; she felt as if she had been hit with the jelly legs curse, as she could not steady herself. Her lips were pulsing with the touch of Lucius Malfoys velvet lips on hers.
They were back in the office and he was standing behind his seat. She walked down towards the chair opposite his and sat on it. He stepped elegantly around the chair and Hermione sighed inwardly at the grace he was showing. He was so different from all the other men she knew. She liked that.
He sat down and looked down at the desk; he picked up the pile of her replies. He began the tedious task of reading the first letter. He pointed out what she had done right and the few mistakes she had made. He was impressed over all. Hermione preened herself under his praise; she treacherously thought what he would be like as Potions Master. Snape could learn a thing or two from him.
"That's it," Lucius said, "six replies. As these are not urgent I think we can leave them to morning. It's time for you to get your wardrobe."
"What if I take them home with me?" Hermione asked.
"No," he replied. "As long as they are top priority tomorrow morning it doesn't matter."
Hermione nodded. She walked to her desk and grabbed a sheet of parchment. She wrote in thick black writing:
TO DO LIST
Lucius leant over her shoulder and chuckled again, he liked this already. Hermione wished he wouldn't chuckle next to her, doesn't he realise she's only human?
"I will be prepared to pay for nine work robes and three dress robes, as well as some day wear in case you need to be seen on a casual basis. It is tradition that as my PA you are expected to attend my private functions. I am holding one on Saturday."
Hermione gulped. She had plans for Saturday... oh well; she hoped her mother would understand.
He took her out of the Ministry and walked her to the apparition point. It was an alley between a second-hand bookshop and a Debenhams store.
"See you tomorrow morning, sir, at half-eight," she said.
"I think I should come with you," he said. "I have spent time away from work before."
"People will think..."
"Let them, we know we're innocent."
Hermione shrugged her shoulders. She could not argue with that one. He stepped next to her and apparated with her outside Leaky Cauldron. They walked into the pub nodding to Tom the Barkeep before carrying on through to the back. Lucius used his snake cane on the bricks to get into Diagon Alley.
Lucius left her standing outside Madam Malkins whilst he walked to the Bank to withdraw the cash needed. Nervously, Hermione entered in the shop. Soon she was tremulously explaining to the elderly woman exactly what she needed and why. Madam Malkin's eyes lit up at the payers name.
Lucius was back with a pouch (or two) filled with glittering galleons. He walked into the shop to find Hermione looking at all the utilitarian colours: black, navy, and greys. The robes in styles he knew she would. He rarely had chance to advise Narcissa as she was raised knowing what she liked. This little witch needed help, so Lucius took it upon himself to show her.
"How old are you?" he asked.
"E-Eighteen," she stuttered.
"Going on, what? Forty?" Lucius asked. "You might be at work, but you can still look good. Most people who end up together in the Wizarding world meet in the workplace. I suggest you go with some lighter, less severe, colours. We don't want people thinking you're related to Snape."
Hermione smiled shyly. He was disparaging the previous times he had met her, but now he was… was...
"How about this colour?" Madam Malkin suggested. She brought out swatches in various shades of reds, purples, greens and blues.
Lucius smiled. "That's more like it."
They had stayed in the shop for hours getting her fitted up. Lucius was looking at a shimmering fabric for some dress robes. Those were going to be a surprise. He didn't know what was happening to him, but he was finding joy again. He didn't mind admitting it; he was lonely. He craved company. Hermione Granger might end up being more than his PA if she played her cards right.
After Thought: I am going to have fun breathing new life into this old story.