A/N #1: Thanks so much to all of you who read the first chapter! Right now I'm not sure how long this will go on for, but I'm aiming to post every 7-10 days. I'll be starting back up in grad school in a little over a week but I'm using this as my self-care. Also, mild discussion of why Draco was so interested in creating a wizarding antidepressant in the third section.
Hermione stepped into Draco's flat and pushed her curls back from her face. She was only very slightly conscious of the fact that she had thrown on the first clothes she could find when she had given up on sleep, but she tugged her sweater down over her leggings anyway. Following Malfoy through a small but tastefully decorated living room, Hermione found herself in the kitchen. She was absolutely focused on examining JUST the cabinets and countertop that happened to be around waist-height for Malfoy, but she couldn't deny that the sleepy chic look was good for him. The biggest improvement was definitely his hair, longer and far more tousled than he would have allowed at Hogwarts. Draco busied himself with making tea, pointedly avoiding eye contact. He cleared his throat, bringing Hermione back to present, and held out a mug with 'I Love NY' printed on the side. "I didn't know if you liked milk or sugar."
Hermione accepted the mug with a slight grin. "I go without, thanks. I guess the States made quite an impression on you, loving New York so much."
Draco gave half a smile in return. "I can't complain. At least it was a fresh start."
Hermione dipped her head, knowing full well that she still harbored the same prejudice for him now that she had when they were schoolmates. A fresh start must have been exactly what he needed to tap into his potential. Draco gestured toward the living room again. "Would you like to sit down?"
Without waiting for a response, Draco turned on his heel and walked into the living room. Hermione followed, clutching her mug for dear life.
"I thought I might change. Pajamas are hardly appropriate for an interview at the Ministry, don't you think Minister?"
Hermione frowned. "I told you, 'Granger' or 'Hermione'. I hate that title. And I've barged into your home at nearly one in the morning, pajamas are perfectly fine."
Draco swallowed. He had been hoping for a moment to slip away and collect himself before she noticed his anxiety. Frankly, he was surprised she hadn't already. From the moment she had walked into his flat, Draco had been sweating and had been fighting a rather violent shake that seemed to afflict his left hand. He certainly hadn't done himself justice when he had pictured Hermione for all those years, and he had half a mind to write the Daily Prophet and request that they hire a more competent photographer because her frequent pictures didn't do her justice either. He set his mug of tea down to avoid giving the tremor away, sat carefully on the couch, and waited for Hermione to continue.
"Why Potions?" she asked abruptly. "I seem to remember you being a rather talented student in many disciplines."
Draco cleared his throat and willed himself to GET a GRIP. This was an interview now, and he needed it to go well. "At the beginning, it was convenience," he said honestly. "I knew I was good at Potions, plain and simple. I also knew that it was a discipline that could be improved upon through little adjustments, as opposed to something that has only one correct answer. It gave me an excuse to travel, to find new ingredients I could occupy my mind with. When it was over, I–" Draco faltered, unsure if he should continue and broach the topic of the war.
Hermione continued staring at him intently, but softened when she recognized his anxiety. "It's okay," she said quietly. "It's not something any of us will ever forget, but it is important to you as a catalyst for pursuing this work. Please, continue."
Draco nodded, appreciative of her encouragement. "I wanted something to challenge me, something that I could attach my name to and would give me a solid opportunity to revitalize what my family represents. I was so close to giving up when I made my first big discovery about bezoars and dittany. I tried it on myself first, to see if it would work."
He trailed off, realizing how personal his answer had become. Hermione only nodded and made a small note on the corner of his file. Draco shifted in his seat uncomfortably.
"Why the Ministry? I'm sure your business is quite successful," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Of course, I haven't had the chance to check into it, but I assume that someone with your knowledge and expertise would be able to cobble together a decent business plan and some marketing techniques. Why give that up to work for paper-pushing bureaucrats?"
Draco smirked. "Are you not also a paper-pushing bureaucrat? You are the Minister, after all."
"I retained my Auror status upon my promotion," Hermione said, sniffing. "I wasn't about to lose out on all the action just because I got a pay raise."
Draco's smirk widened into a smile. "I assumed you hadn't had any action for the last nine years, Granger. You and Weasley lasted about six months if I'm not mistaken."
As soon as the words had left his mouth, Draco wished he could sink into the floor. Brilliant, you bloody idiot. You're interviewing for a high-profile job and you just made a sexual innuendo and gave away that you've been stalking her love life for ten years. Excellent move. Draco refused to look up from the floor, but he assumed that Granger had simply perfected silent Disapparation and that she had left. A small cough let him know he was woefully incorrect.
"Four months," she said. "We lasted four months. I dated one Muggle and one wizard after the fact, and have resigned myself to the first Cat Lady Minister for Magic. Though," she added as an afterthought, "Ron has been making himself quite available in the last year, but I'm afraid that getting dinner with an old flame isn't quite enough action for me."
Hermione smiled devilishly; Draco's ears turned pink.
"Anyway," Hermione continued, as if nothing had happened, "if you would answer my question, Mr. Malfoy."
"Right, uh," Draco stammered. How uncool could he possibly be?
"Right, so, I'm interested in the Ministry because I think I could be a valuable asset and I'd like to expand my knowledge of Potions in conjunction with St. Mungo's. I considered studying for a Healer position, but I figured most people wouldn't be thrilled to see my face around a hospital. This way, I'd be in a relatively faceless position where someone had to trust me enough to give me a job but I can continue my educational pursuits in my downtime."
Draco swallowed again, trying desperately to ignore the incredibly tight pants Granger wore as she stood and began stacking her papers. On instinct, she tugged her sweater down again and looked at him.
"I'll send an owl on Monday with an appointment request," she said. "See to it that you respond, and I will ensure that your visit will go unnoticed. The younger ones are always so starstruck when they meet the big names from before."
Rolling her eyes and cracking a grin, Hermione held out her hand. Draco jumped off the couch and shook her hand gently. Hermione turned and headed for the door.
"Thank you."
She stopped and turned around. "For?"
Draco looked at the floor. "For giving me a chance. For somehow being able to overlook my past enough to listen and to take the time to follow up when my name crossed your desk."
Hermione smiled again and took a few steps back toward him. Draco's heart rate spiked, despite knowing she wouldn't make a move. "We aren't children anymore, Draco. If you're the best man for the job, I'll see to it that you get your share of the action."
Laughing at the expression on his face, Hermione headed for the door again and slipped out, shutting it softly behind her. Draco sank into a chair and willed his heart to slow down.
"I am absolutely, unequivocally fucked."
Hermione apparated home and climbed straight into bed, her curiosity satiated for the time being. In all honesty, Malfoy seemed exceptionally normal. She had paid close attention to his body language, the words he chose to use, his hospitality, and even the layout of his home. She knew that if he was interested in hiding something, he likely would have slipped up during the interview or he would have been hesitant to invite her into such a personal space. It helped that he had grown even more attractive since their school days… or not. She was a professional looking to hire another qualified professional for a high profile position, not someone with a dry spell longer than the Sahara looking for an oasis.
"You know," Hermione said conversationally to Crookshanks, "I could always not hire him. Then maybe I won't lose my job for gross misconduct."
Crookshanks eyed her with disdain, though it was more than likely at being disturbed from his sleep than a judgment call on Hermione's taste in men. Hermione snuggled deeper into the covers and drifted off into peaceful dreams that starred a tall blonde man with a lovely smile.
Draco woke on Saturday just as astonished as he had gone to bed the night before, his head swimming with dreams of a particular brunette. He lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling and replaying the previous evening's events before Remy nudged him impatiently. Draco looked at his chocolate lab, grateful for such a devoted companion but also decidedly not interested in braving the cold to take him for his daily walk.
"Can't you let me pine over a woman in peace?"
Remy stared, put his ears back, and thumped his tail once on the bed.
"I'll take that as a no."
Draco busied himself by getting ready for his day, treating himself to a soothing shower and a well-balanced breakfast of toast and Earl Grey. He knew how to cook since he hadn't had a house elf in nearing eleven years, but today his thoughts were elsewhere. Hermione Granger had been in his flat last night. She sat in his living room, drinking out of his mug, carrying on a conversation with him as though the previous twenty-seven years hadn't happened. Well, except for the part where they knew each other. Of course she was fierce with him, but had he expected anything less? She had socked him in the nose at 13 years old to defend her friends; it only followed that she would be protective of her career that she had worked so hard to earn.
Draco knew, deep down, that he was more than adequate for the job. He poured his heart into his work. It was hard not to when everything else had been stripped away from him (and yes, he knew he had a hand in his own life's destruction). Perfecting the combination of bezoars and dittany had, quite literally, saved his life. Draco very nearly let that slip to Hermione the night before, but he was reluctant to experience her reaction. She would have pitied him for hitting such a low point or regretted that he hadn't offed himself and done them all a favor. Draco knew that he was not the only one who suffered in the aftermath of the war and it had only seemed logical that he try to correct some of the damage he had inflicted. However, he wasn't always convinced that he had deserved saving, even at the hands of himself. These insecurities were those that bled out on the piano keys in the middle of the night, when Draco's nightmares and self-loathing overtook him.
As if on cue, Remy howled, jolting Draco out of the darkest corners of his mind. Cracking a smile, Draco made his way to the door while dodging Remy's tail. Together they headed for the Muggle dog park, basking in the sun that hadn't peeked through in weeks. Draco couldn't help but believe it was a sign.
Hermione went about the rest of her weekend in a bit of a daze. She was always a workaholic, as her friends were so fond of telling her, but this weekend was different. She was completely and utterly drowning in Draco Malfoy, though she wasn't getting any action. All she was getting was a headache, and she was pretty sure that had come from the Bellini she had downed at brunch that morning with Ginny.
"Hello, earth to Granger," Ginny said loudly, waving her hand in front of Hermione's face.
Hermione jumped. "I'm sorry, I'm here."
Ginny snorted, dislodging some of the "everything" on her everything bagel. "I haven't seen you this preoccupied since you first submitted your application to be Minister. What's going on with you?"
"It's just a work thing," Hermione mumbled quickly. "A bit stressful but nothing I can't handle."
"Harry mentioned they've been cracking down on former Death Eaters lately," Ginny commented. "Something to do with the ten year anniversary of the war."
Hermione nodded, keeping her eyes trained on the half-eaten plate of eggs Benedict in front of her. "It's been a discussion of course. Plenty of them weren't officially charged and dispersed into lesser known communities."
Ginny slapped her hand flat on the table, making Hermione jump again. "Are you sure this isn't because of my dimwitted brother?"
Hermione looked up for that. "Ron? No, why would it be?"
"Don't play dumb with me, Hermione, I know he owled you last week about getting dinner. And," Ginny continued, triumphantly holding a finger in Hermione's face. "I know damn well you didn't respond to him."
"Well, no, I –"
"Come on, Hermione. Do us all a favor and let the guy down. You can let him down hard if you have to, but end the misery and make sure he knows it's really over. Look," Ginny said, more gently this time. "I know it's been rough for the two of you. It lasted, what, six months?"
"Four," Hermione sighed.
"Four then. But it was a decade ago. You've both grown up and your lives have taken you in different places. You're comfortable for each other. Let him down and take a leap toward ambition and adventure and everything you're afraid of. And, most importantly, I never spoke to you about any of this."
Hermione nodded and silently willed herself to stop imagining all of the ambition and adventurous nature it took to travel the world learning about Potions.
A/N #2: Hope I've continued it well and continued to pique your interest! Thanks to and for reviewing my first-ever publicly posted writing!
