It took a week and a few more days for Nott to speak to her after his incident. Hermione passed his desk every morning, greeted him, inquired about his health, and even brought him a card on his third day back to work. He didn't acknowledge any of her kindness and she wasn't surprised. The quiet young man was probably extremely embarrassed that he had fallen to pieces in her arms. She wondered how much of the event Nott even remembered, although she was certain he'd never tell her.

So when Theodore Nott opened up to her nine days later, Hermione didn't know how to respond.

It was mid-afternoon when he interrupted her work. Nott walked into her office calmly and sat down on the couch before her desk.

"Ms. Granger? If you have a moment I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you?"

She had been chewing on her quill with her nose down in an old manuscript about Muggle business interactions when he spoke. It was too dull to even pretend she wanted to read it.

"Theodore?" She slammed the manuscript closed. "You're talking to me? I mean...of course, what do you need?"

The last time he had spoken to her and asked for a favor she had ended up letting Draco Malfoy live in her house. Malfoy was a nuisance of a house guest, but if the alternative was letting him rot in the hospital she couldn't complain.

"Nothing serious." He reassured her. "I was just curious if you were going to the New Year's ball at Gringotts. If so, maybe we could go together?" He flashed a genuine smile. She'd never seen him do that before. He had dimples. Rather nice dimples at that.

Hermione dropped her quill and it rolled off the desk and onto the floor. "Oops!" She bent under the desk to fetch it.

"Are you alright?"

She retrieved her quill and righted herself into the chair. One curl had fallen stubbornly out of her ponytail into her face. Hermione shoved it behind her ear.

"Fine." She told him.

"Good. From what I've gathered you are no longer courting Arthur Weasley's son. Is that correct?"

If he had bombarded her with hexes and mustard gas she would have been less shocked.

"Are you asking me on a date?" She blinked at him.

Theodore laughed a little, another cheerful expression she had never seen him do. It caused her insides to flip oddly. He slouched back on the couch before speaking again.

"It would seem that way."

"Why? I'm sorry, but since when do Death Eaters go to formal dances with Muggle borns?" She asked him. It was hard to believe he wasn't playing a joke on her.

He laughed again. "I'm not my father. I also think I owe you a nice dinner after all you've done for Draco."

Hermione clenched her jaw at the mention of Malfoy. "Then maybe Draco should be buying me dinner, not you."

"The sky will fall apart before Draco Malfoy brings a Muggle born out for dinner. Sorry, love."

He called her love? Maybe she should start wearing something nicer to work other than her frumpy old dress robes.

"Well?" He asked her.

"Well what?"

"Would you go with me?"

She watched his handsome smile and waited for the 'just kidding' to hit her. When it didn't she found herself nodding.

"Tell me," Theodore scratched his cheek and leaned forward, "would you have considered going to the ball at all if I didn't ask you?"

She frowned. "Probably not. Balls aren't really my thing."

Theodore sighed. "Here's my dilema, Ms. Granger. You have all the criteria but not the final push to get through. Do you know what I mean?"

She shook her head. What on earth was he talking about?

"It's that you could climb impeccably high in this organization. I'd even argue that you have a shot at Minster of Magic. Landing head of the department before twenty five is outstanding and praiseworthy but it seems you don't have the stones to go the few extra meters to get the Quaffle into the goal post, so to speak."

Hermione shook her head, freeing the curl behind her ear back into her face. "You can't be serious. Minister of Magic? ME!?"

"Exactly my point." Nott lifted both palms to her to emphasize his statement. "You don't even realize your potential!"

Her current position was stressful and time consuming enough as it is. A higher standing at the Ministry, even one far below Minister, would be even worse.

"I don't think I could do that."

Realizing her hesitation, Theodore stood and walked to her desk. He put his hands on the flat surface and leaned in so he was at eye level.

"Hermione," Her first name sounded like a wind chime on his tongue, "the people around you have already pushed you up this far. Can't you see that they want you to do this?"

"But…"

"We've never had a Muggle born Minister, nor a female one. You would be making history. Think about all the changes you could make for the greater good of the magical community!"

He was extremely close to her; uncomfortably close. If she moved her head forward a speck she would bump foreheads with him. Hermione pushed her chair back a tad to give her some breathing space.

"I'm not saying you're wrong," she began, "but I don't think I want to be Minister."

He shrugged. "That's a shame. You'd be tremendous at it."

Her cheeks felt hot from his compliment and he grinned at her.

"Uh…"

"I'll help you, of course. All you need to do is keep up with your book work and I'll help you with the schmoozing and the social events. If all climbing the ladder takes is rubbing shoulders with the right people at a company ball, then we can get you up that ladder in no time."

Her mood deflated like a popped balloon animal. It appeared he only was taking her out to the ball in hopes of negotiating the politics of the Ministry. There really wasn't anything romantic behind Theodore's date proposal.

"As a Muggle born you probably have little experience in the social standing of wizards. I've been trained since I could walk how to dance nicely and talk elegantly to overstuffed heads at parties." Nott rolled his eyes. "You can thank my delightful father for that." He said sarcastically.

She crossed her arms and squinted at him. "So, you want to groom me for the position." The more he talked the more slimy she felt. "Somehow I feel this must be benefiting you more than me"

He lifted a hand from the desk and pointed at himself. "Slytherin. That's what I do. Did you learn anything from Slughorn? Think of this as one of his little parties. I'm helping you get ahead, but at the same time I get pushed forward as well."

When she scowled at him even worse he laughed again.

"At least I'm being honest about it!" He told her. "Without you I'm just a Death Eater." He pulled down his sleeve to display the black angry tattoo on his forearm. It was still blacker than Draco's but a little lighter than nine days ago. "The son of a murderer who's being summoned by unknown forces and headed for Azkaban tomorrow if I'm not careful." He pulled his sleeve back over the Mark gruffly. "But you, Lady Gryffindor, can save me."

She gawked at him and released a sniff of a laugh.

"You know I'm right." He continued. "It's a win-win situation, Hermione. We both need each other."

She would have preferred that he asked her to go because he thought she was pretty. Instead it felt like a backwards business deal.

"I guess." She sighed and unfolded her arms.

"Oh, don't look so disappointed." He chided her as he moved for the office door. "I look very fetching in a tuxedo. And just think," he gave her the biggest smile yet, "you could be going with Ronald Weasley instead! He'd probably be wearing those same frilly robes he wore to the Yule Ball fourth year!"

Hermione snarled at the back of Theodore's head as he left her office. She wanted to scold him for his comment about Ron but the idea of seeing Nott in a tuxedo was too distracting.