Author's Note: Oops. This chapter has been up on AO3 for a while but I forgot I'm posting the fic here too. Now I've finished the next chapter as well. Yay double update?
As Narcissa stepped out of the carriage, flashbulbs illuminated her, and a crowd of witches and wizards pressed in. She could never be bothered to remember who they were; that's what her assistants were for. Could she depend on no one to be punctual? Where in the world was Hermione?
Standing too close with bad breath, one of the wizards greeted her, "Narcissa, what a delight to see you! You're here by yourself?" He held onto her hand until she pulled it away.
"I'm delighted to support the charity," she replied, casting a subtle eye around the walkway.
To her relief, Hermione actually was on time, struggling to hurry over from the other side of the crowd. The young woman wasn't wearing high heels―thank goodness for that, she'd probably fall over from inexperience―but instead wore black leather oxfords, which seemed an unusual choice until Narcissa's eyes drifted upward to find fine black trousers hanging just right along full calves and thighs, and a tuxedo jacket with lapels angled just right to flatter the form of a woman's chest in an eye-catching satin colored to match the dark silver of Narcissa's own dress, all topped with that rich chestnut hair combed out into its full glory, surrounding Hermione's radiant face and dainty lashes of eyes unfortunately downcast to watch her step as she hurried.
"Ah, I see why I can't hold your attention. That must be your date," the wizard lamented.
Startled, Narcissa turned back to him. "My assistant," she corrected automatically. "But―yes." She realized with irritation that he must have misinterpreted what was simply a brief fashion assessment.
"I knew there was no chance someone like you would have to come to a show alone," one witch declared, and a few others nodded.
Another wizard added, "I'm a little envious. My assistants aren't exactly falling over themselves for a chance to catch my eye."
Narcissa's hand clenched, and she pressed each finger to her thumb in turn to keep herself from reaching for her wand and cursing someone out of irritation. She would've had a proper date if not for that presumptuous, overachieving assistant.
Hermione stopped beside her in a flurry of energy. "Sorry, you weren't waiting long, were you? Your schedule said 7 o'clock, but I've figured out you're always thirteen minutes early, so I came early too."
Everyone smiled knowingly at the young woman. "You're right on time, Miss Granger," a friendly voice assured her. "Who are you wearing?"
"Oh, um, Vera Chang," Hermione said. "First time I've ever been asked that. It's very nice, isn't it? I feel like someone else should be wearing it."
A few people laughed, charmed by the self-effacing comment. Narcissa had forgotten how much the media loved the entire Golden Trio these days. She gave Hermione another onceover, more speculative this time. There were still problem areas, but the woman wouldn't be an embarrassment. If everyone's attitudes were already favorable, perhaps this was another opportunity to seize.
"Nonsense, it suits you," Narcissa said, displaying a rare smile. Hermione blushed as if she'd never heard a compliment before. The photographers blinded them with snapping pictures.
One wizard added, "And it complements your date's dress so well."
"My―my... date's dress." Hermione followed his gaze and stared, speechless, at Narcissa's silk chiffon gown in iridescent silver, strapless with black evening gloves over her forearms, accented with a silver bracelet.
"Of course I made sure to coordinate our outfits," Narcissa said breezily. Draco had done well. He knew better than to put an assistant in clothes that would clash with―or worse, outshine―his mother.
Hermione played her part well with a suitably awed expression. "You look... you look even more beautiful than usual."
Narcissa was accustomed to being watched, but it felt like she was burning as Hermione's eyes made their slow perusal over her form. Unacceptable. She linked arms with her and led her away, whispering, "They knew without even being told that you were my date, because I couldn't possibly be here alone. I ought to eviscerate you."
Hermione looked away with sagging shoulders, seeming dispirited but not nearly scared enough.
"This is your fault," Narcissa continued, voice deadly quiet, "so it is now your responsibility to cast this in the best light possible. You will act grateful, perhaps even starstruck. You will make it clear that you volunteered for this without coercion or threats to your employment."
"Right. Of course. It's true, I offered to come with you," Hermione agreed, nodding along.
"But I will fire you if you make me regret this," she said, satisfied to finally see a bit of fear. "Once tonight is over, you will not speak of this again, and Pansy will handle all communication with my suitors. Remember you're still working for me."
As a couple approached them to talk, Narcissa felt Hermione obediently lean closer and whisper their names in her ear. It caused a shivery sensation, and she had to concentrate so hard to block it out that she almost missed the names, but recovered in time to greet them. As they continued mingling, each whispered name made her more distracted. Each glimpse of Hermione's feminine shape beneath the suit made her feel flushed with heat.
"I need a glass of champagne," she ordered. When Hermione was gone, Narcissa relaxed against a cool stone pillar, smothering the seed of attraction before it could sprout. Never in her entire career had she allowed herself to think inappropriately about an employee. At the workplace it was easier, with everyone in business casual attire. Unfortunately, she was weak for men and women in suits. She hadn't expected Hermione to look so good in one, but it wasn't a serious problem. She simply needed to keep a stronger grip on herself.
By the time Hermione returned with two champagne glasses, Narcissa had pulled herself together. She accepted the glass and took a delicate sip, letting her gaze sweep over Hermione's form to test herself. Attractive, certainly, but not irresistible. She would forget all about this over the weekend, and by Monday it would be as if she had never seen her assistant dressed this way.
"You and your assistant have to read through and sign these scrolls on workplace relationships."
Narcissa stared at the armful of scrolls this grumpy-looking wizard from Human Resources was holding. Completing hellish paperwork for a one-time sham date? Narcissa thought not. She held up a dismissive hand. "Oh, that won't be necessary, we're not actually..."
Another wizard ran into the office excitedly with a newspaper. "Narcissa, our stock prices jumped seven percent! Seven percent, after news spread that you're dating Hermione Granger. Investors might've been a bit worried whether you could stay relevant after You-Know-Who's downfall, but according to polls, this sign of open-mindedness toward muggleborns really builds hope!"
Narcissa would not do anything so unflattering as let her jaw drop, but nearly did. "Seven percent? Why, this is..." Her Slytherin opportunistic instincts kicked in and saved her from floundering. "This is quite good news. Seven percent. An unintended side effect of how we're―oh, I don't know―sweet on each other, in a very wholesome way. Must I really do paperwork?"
"Both of you must, I'm afraid," the HR wizard replied. "To check in and make sure no one is abusing their power."
"Of course, of course," Narcissa agreed, resigned to playing along and reading the scrolls as if any of this were legitimate. Such a huge boost in public opinion and company valuation was worth it.
"Change of plans, Ermióni. You will continue to be my date to these events for the foreseeable future."
"Why would I agree to do that?" Hermione asked.
That brought Narcissa up short. "What do you mean why? Because I told you to."
"Honestly, that is so like you! Being your date isn't my job―"
"You seemed willing enough to volunteer last time―"
"―which, by the way, already goes into overtime. Going to all of these events would give me hardly any time to myself. Pansy and I should split the name-whispering duty."
Name-whispering. Narcissa suppressed a shiver at the memory of Hermione's soft voice in her ear. "Pansy will be in charge of names," she decided, out of self-preservation. "You're simply there as my date."
"We'll both be there, both getting paid?" Hermione asked, looking inexplicably bewildered.
"Ermióni, our stock prices rose seven percent after news spread of us on a date. That's how much your presence reflects well on the company and myself. Additional time at your wage rates is a pittance in comparison."
"That's somehow flattering and insulting at the same time."
"So, you shall be my date for the foreseeable future. If you want some compensation besides the honor of being seen with me, we can discuss it."
Hermione chewed on her lip, eyebrows scrunched in the middle, in a thoughtful expression Narcissa refused to think of as endearing. "I want learning opportunities and Sundays off."
"You already have Sundays off."
"Not really off. There's always something you're owling us about, and most weeks half the staff has to come in anyway."
Narcissa pursed her lips and drummed on her cheek thoughtfully. "Learning opportunities, fine, why not. But I can't give you preferential treatment like that."
"Then give everyone Sundays off. They're supposed to have it anyway," Hermione said, putting her hands on her hips in a way that reminded Narcissa all too much of how good those curves had looked in a well-tailored suit.
Narcissa held her breath, counting and trying to forget, then let it out. She hadn't seen any reason not to get things done right when they came up, no matter how lazy her workers felt like being on Sundays, but truthfully most things could wait until Monday. "Fine. Done. You drive a hard bargain."
"Letting me learn things and giving us something we already had. Very hard bargain."
"I don't like your sass."
"I don't like your superiority complex."
"Don't you have some work to do?"
"How about my first learning opportunity?"
Narcissa waved her hand. "Write me an essay. About... I don't know, types of fabric?"
"An essay?" Hermione echoed, eyes lighting up. "Okay. How long?"
Narcissa did not like realizing how far back she had to think to remember her school days for a reasonable essay length. "Three feet."
Hermione practically ran out of Narcissa's office in excitement to get started, which was completely absurd. No one should like essays that much. On the bright side, if the "learning opportunities" part of the deal was really that easy to arrange, Narcissa had no complaints. This would be easy.