A/N: Woohoo! 10 reviews!!! *skips around tossing candy at everyone* Sorry this chapter took so long. Who knew that school could take up so much time?! But I will try to update more often… *checks her homework diary* actually I can't promise I'll try, but I'll try to try.  Meanwhile, a big and heartfelt thank you to everybody who reviewed: : hasapi, tickle the dragon, villeageidiot333, Cedric Diggory (no Draco is not gay. How am I going to pair him up with—ahem, you are not supposed to know this. But the point is that he is strictly hetero. *wink wink*) Nicolea, Slim Shady's-Modeling-Baby, tom felton's babe, ++berri++ (who the hell is 4-leaf-clover?? And why are you starving him or her? Anyways I love u too : ) ), seeweed, T.C.Vincent, Demon-princzess and girl-malfoy. Also a big hug to my first two reviewers: you know who you are. I stupidly deleted your reviews while I was poking around…but you guys are what makes me feel I could be bothered to go on : ) Well, I've just wasted a lot of your time. Anyways, enjoy!! Disclaimer: I own nothing. (how Zen)                                                 Chapter Two: The First Meeting

*~*~*Draco*~*~*

            I woke up with a headache. For one brief moment I wondered if I had the energy to go outside and ask the builders working centimetres from my bedroom window if they'll turn off their jackhammers for a while. Then I remembered that I live on the 24th floor and realised the demolition work is going on inside my brain cells courtesy of numerous Harvey Wallbangers consumed the evening before.

            A hangover; story of my life.

I sat up and was blinded by the rays of sunlight leaking through the curtains. The woman next to me was still sleeping. I've forgotten her name already. 

            Turning the tap to cold, I stepped into the shower. A million minute icy needles penetrated my skin and sent quivers through my body. I could hear my very bones clattering, but I clenched my teeth and forced myself to stay there.

            The glass screen door banged behind me as I left the shower. Staring back at me from the bathroom mirror was a lifeless face. The red-rimmed, blood shot eyes were burning two holes on skin as pale as chalk. The Tahitian tan was wearing off and I bear a certain resemblance to a freshly skinned cucumber. My hair, silvery blonde as always, was hanging limply over my forehead. Water was dripping into my eyes.

            I nodded at the reflection. "You look like a ghost." It nodded grimly back at me.

            I almost jumped as a claw gripped my shoulder—no, it was just the 9-inch-nailed hand of the woman I'd brought home. I could vaguely remember her telling me proudly last night that they were all real. For some reason my stomach contracted.

            "Good morning sunshine." She planted a wet, sloppy kiss on my lips; or rather, knocked her jaw against my chin. "You were amazing last night!"

            This was too much.

            It took me a while to convince her that it was only a one-night stand and I had no intention to marry her. ("But Dom, I really think we're destined to be together!" I didn't bother to correct her) By the time I got into my car it was well past 1 pm. Boppy is not going to be very happy about this. I had a feeling that something's about to happen.

            Robert Westwood was my boss. A balding man in his early fifties, I call him Boppy. He's not very popular, not because he spits when he's talking, but due to the fact that he seems to be permanently stuck in menopause.  

            When I opened the door of his office he was sitting in his chair with his back facing me. But as soon as I closed the door he swung around and banged his hands on the desk.

            "So," he spat, sending a fine mist onto the glass tabletop in front of him. "Mister Malfoy had decided he would come to work, after all."

            I shifted from one foot to another.

            "Any idea what time it is?" his eyes narrowed maliciously. Why do bosses always ask questions they already know the answer to, please?

            I didn't say anything.

"I understand that your spending habits might place you in awkward financial situations, so if you can't afford an alarm clock I will be happy to get you a replacement. How about a rooster?" he bared his teeth as he snorted with laughter. I sighed and turned to leave, but he stopped me as I reached for the doorknob: "You have a new assignment."

*~*~*(Still Draco)*~*~*

            Oh, this is just so great. I have such a glorious, fabulous and wondrous life. Now to top it off I get to work with—no, work for—Hermione Granger. As her Image Consultant. In her Election.

            And if she doesn't win, my reputation as a designer is ruined.

            I am in such a good mood.

*~*~*Hermione*~*~*

            God, I haven't panicked so much since my first job interview, when my period decided to surprise me with an unexpected and perfectly timed visit and my roommate's cousin threw up on my resume. But this is different. Much worse, as a matter of fact. Although I'd rather go to another Chudley Cannon's game with Ron than admit that it was because of Malfoy, I have to say that it does make me feel uneasy.

            Why would he have anything to do with image consultancy? (if there really is such a thing) Shouldn't he be hiding in some mouldy chamber brewing a potion to rouse Voldermort from death? Shouldn't he be terrorising Muggles? Shouldn't he be, at the very least, in a position that's more, well, masculine??

            I can't concentrate. The meeting is just an inconvenience loitering in the background. Voices, loud and monotonous like vacuum cleaners were drawing on and on and on, sucking the very spirit out of me. The room was stifling, and I felt a powerful urge to scream……

            Just then the door was opened with a bang. And in walked a tall, lean figure.

            Draco Malfoy.

*~*~*Draco*~*~*

            I looked around the room before settling my gaze on her: my new project; my new boss.

            She hasn't changed the slightest. The same bushy hair that still looked like a puppy with his jaw stuck in a power point. The same round, chubby physique. The same hopeless dress sense. The only thing new is a pair of square rimmed glasses, which was dangling off the tip of her nose; which, I might as well add, could seriously use some mattifying lotion.

            Looks like I've got a lot of work to do.

TO BE CONTINUED