A Post Hogwarts Affair 13
On Monday morning I woke up bleary-eyed to the awful sound of my stupid alarm clock. Over the weekend I'd moved out of the house that Ron and I had once shared into an apartment of my own. Both Harry and Ron had helped me move, and although conversation was a bit strained at times between Ron and me, Harry helped it along quite easily.
Yet another reason why I found myself fancying him.
I couldn't believe it. What was I, if I was able to move so quickly from one man to the next? I was… some sort of… mind skank!
What a horrible, horrible thing to be.
Quickly I got into the shower and remembered with a moan that I was all set to go back to work today. Oh, joy. I was most uncomfortable even thinking about my boss; the last thing I needed to do right now was to see the man. Hopefully he was out on another 'business trip'. And that reminded me. I'd been busy as hell, but now that everything was slowing down I could think about it.
He wanted papers on Ron. Why'd he want papers on Ron? Old Hogwarts grudge? How many games Ron had messed up for his Quidditch team? Or was it anything to do with me working for him?
I didn't feel like dressing in something nice, but at just the moment when I was pulling on a drab work suit, Ginny's face popped into my fire. "Hermione!" she screamed.
I turned around, worried. "Ginny! Is anything wrong? Are you okay? You didn't get burned, did you?"
All right, it was a silly question. But even after all these years, seeing someone's face in your fire did tend to shock you slightly. Especially if they were perfectly content with it. Luckily Ginny just laughed. "Oh, Hermione… wait. What is that?"
She was of course talking about my work attire. "My clothes," I answered shortly.
"Oh no, no, no, no, no," Ginny, ever the fashion expert exclaimed. "Stay right there, Hermione. Don't move! I'll be right over."
My feet were glued to the floor. I couldn't have moved if Voldemort was breathing in my ear.
Before I knew it, Ginny was standing in front of me. "Hermione!" she whined. "I can't believe this. You know what, I'm so giving you an appointment at my salon. The works, totally free. You need it. I'm sorry, honey, I heard about what happened." She enveloped me in a huge hug and then pulled away, looking devious. I shuddered. "Hermione. You cannot go out looking like someone broke your heart, and trust me, it really looks like that right now. Where did you get that? I can't even call it an outfit! Today is important. You have to look really, really good."
"But why?" I asked incredulously. "Why is today special?"
"Because everyone's going to know," she clucked sympathetically, a trait inherited from her mother, I was sure. "You know that Ron's a top notch Quidditch player, and you… well, you're you! Of course we all expected you to have… I dunno, ousted Snape by making brilliant potions by now, or something… but you're still in the papers every now and then. You're Harry's best friend, and you've just divorced his other best friend? Hon, you're in every tabloid. You can't look like this is affecting you. You've got to look smashing."
I smiled at Ginny's pep talk. "Look, I'm not really in the mood to beautify myself…" I began compromisingly.
"That's why I'm here," she grinned maniacally in response. "So I'll be a bit late to work, whatever, they can deal without me. And you, Hermione, need to make a fashionably late entrance."
"My boss is going to get mad at me," I protested feebly, but I knew it was no use.
"And that is another thing!" Ginny said in excitement as she led me into the bathroom. Apparently in her robes, tight-fitting as they were, she stored plenty of make-up and soon my bathroom counter was full of potions and enhanced lipsticks and blushes and eye shadows and what not. "Your boss. Draco Malfoy. If I remember correctly, you have a crush on him?"
"Ginny!"
"Okay, whatever, pretend like you don't…" Ginny teased as she expertly applied mascara and a billion other products that I couldn't recognize. Including potions.
"If you mix too many potions," I swallowed nervously, "bad effects can happen."
"Relax," Ginny reassured as she did something with my eyebrows (I didn't exactly know what). "I've done this a million times. You're going to look so sexy when I'm done."
"But I'm going to work! I don't want to look sexy!" I objected, half in horror and half appreciating what she was doing for me.
"There!" She stepped away from me as if I were her masterpiece. "You look so amazing. I did the classic natural look on you. Believe me, you don't look like you have too much make-up on; it looks fantastic. Have a peek!"
She thrust a hand-held mirror in my hand and I was shocked to see that indeed the look was very natural… and very pretty.
"But if it's so natural, how come it takes so long?" I griped.
"That's the way the broomstick breaks," she quipped. "Okay, anyway, I want you to wear this," she pulled out one of my nicest business suits (and most revealing!) out of the closet. "This deep velvet red… not everyone can pull it off. But you can. Now get dressed. I'm late, you're late, gotta go, and I promise in that outfit you'll impress your boss…"
And before I could even get angry, she'd Apparated away.
With a resigned sigh, I took a pinch of floo powder and got myself to work, hoping that Draco wouldn't notice just how late I was. I really shouldn't have thought of him on a first-name basis, I chided myself, there was well, a 99% chance that nothing was going to happen between us.
Unfortunately, luck was not with me that morning. As soon as I stepped into my comfortable little office, a very upset looking Draco Malfoy was staring at me in seething anger, I supposed. "You're late," he spat.
"Sorry. I had some things to do," I replied vaguely.
"On my expense? I've given you a wonderful job; I'd expect you to make the best of it and actually work. Or do you not know how, not having done so for however long you were married to that… Weasley?" he berated.
The nerve of him! It was at times like these where I was appalled at my pheromones; how dare they make me sometimes fancy this heartless wanker of a man? "Excuse me?" I scowled. "I know you wouldn't understand, but a divorce is a difficult thing to get through. Then again, you wouldn't know, because you've never been attached to anyone, have you?"
He growled. "Don't think you're getting off so easy, Granger. Just because I'm going to let you go this time for personal problems, doesn't mean you can waltz in an hour and a half late every day!" With that, he turned on his heel and exited, trying to probably look noble or some crap like that.
Noble my arse! Thinking he was a saint just because he let me off! Any normal boss wouldn't have thought anything of it, but this smelly flobberworm of a man was so high-headed he could barely say "oh, it's okay" without making it into a huge deal.
Throughout the morning, I worked diligently on a new file. A company that Malfoy wanted to buy that dealt with oil was making it difficult, and I had to draft new compromises because the damned company wouldn't accept any of Malfoy's very generous offers.
So he was nice to clients but when it came to his employees, he was a Voldemort waiting to happen.
Typical.
And why did he want a company with oil anyway? More profits? He was rich enough as it was. Greedy little pig. Just as I was thinking these thoughts (and they were all negative, I assured myself; I had to get over this silly little crush) an owl crashed into my pen, forming an ink blot on the formal reply I had been drafting to the company. Drat!
With a sigh I took the letter from the owl and sent it on its way, cursing the owner of the blasted thing. The letter turned out to be from Janice, one of my coworkers.
Hermione-
Want to go out to lunch? I could sure use a little break.
- Janice
Mumbling to myself I wrote a hasty reply.
Janice-
I'm so sorry, but I'm totally swamped in work right now, and there's just no way I can escape. Try Ellen, she seems a little less interested in whatever she's doing. But we'll go out sometime soon, okay?
-Hermione
Of course everything would've gone brilliantly and I would have been able to complete my draft (which I had to start over, of course) had not another owl swooped down into my office at that very moment. This one was bigger, and much more refined, thank goodness, I do think I would have hexed something if I'd had to start over yet again, but when I read the note I suddenly felt very peculiar.
Ms. Granger-Weasley (crap! I had to still go and change my name!)
Mr. Malfoy requests your presence at Rosetta's Café for a business lunch at 12:30 p.m. Please be prepared on the oil files.
- Anna Wallace, Secretary
I read the note feeling distasteful. There was of course, no way that I could refuse, as had been proven last time I'd had to go out to lunch with him. I was struck with just how long ago that had been.
Half-angry and half-excited for my impending fate, I hurriedly closed up my files, seeing as it was already 12:24 (typical Malfoy, giving me only six minutes to "prepare the oil files"), threw them into my book bag, and made my way through the bustle that was Malfoy, Inc. and out into open air. Ah, I could finally breathe. I checked my watch. 12:27. Okay, I admitted to myself. I had no idea where Rosetta's Café was. No doubt it was the next "it" place, but where was it located?!
In desperation I put a call through to my good friend Ginny, who happened to keep telephones because she insisted it got her more customers (although most wizards didn't use phones). "Ginny!" I wailed.
"Hermione," she replied smoothly. "I'm kind of busy right now, can I call you back?"
"No!" I protested. "I need to know where Rosetta's Café is, please?"
Ginny squealed. Apparently now I had her full attention. "Rosetta's Café? You're going to Rosetta's?"
"Obviously, if I need to know where it is," I grinned into the phone. So this place was a lot more hip than I'd originally thought…
"Omigosh! Hermione, that's fantastic! With who and why?"
"Ginny!" I moaned. "I'm supposed to be there in a minute. With Draco and for a business lunch. Tell you what happens later and now where the hell is the place?"
"Ok, I'm so glad I dressed you up this morning. What you're wearing is perfect. Rosetta's is totally the in thing with business people, and it's so yum. I'm so jealous! Located at corner of West Alley and Owlbery Village, okay?"
I barely mumbled a thanks before I Apparated in that direction, truly hoping I'd end up somewhere near that restaurant. Blast Draco Malfoy for making this so difficult for me!
Luckily I ended up right in front of the restaurant, and as Ginny had claimed, it certainly was hopping. I entered nervously and the maître d' immediately came up to me. "You must be Ms. Granger-Weasley, correct?"
"Erm, yes," I replied. "Is Mr. Malfoy already here?"
"Oh yes, but don't worry, he just got here a moment ago." Breathing a sigh of relief, I followed him through the throngs of people to a more secluded table. I sat down next to my boss—my soon to be ex-crush, I hoped.
But right now my heart was hammering, totally going against what my brain was screaming at me. "Hello," I grimaced. "I can't believe this. You know how much work I need to do on this file; how can you pull me out to a lunch?"
"To discuss it," came his clipped reply. "Obviously."
"Well, I'm not done with it," I stressed. The nerve of him!
"I told you to be prepared!" he shot back.
"Like three minutes before I was supposed to meet you here! How am I supposed to do anything about that?"
"Wine?" a waitress interrupted our argument. "Today's special is a lovely Sauvignon—from Bordeaux."
"Yes, two glasses," Draco (no! Malfoy!) scowled and turned to her, but as soon as he looked at her his scowl melted into a sort of an indifferent, neutral expression.
He was so checking her out.
Sodding git! The bloody wanker, how dare he do that on a business meeting? I was not jealous, I was merely upset that he was…doing personal things on business time! Ugh!
The waitress gave him a flirty smile as she poured our wine and giggled when she departed. "Are you okay, Hermione?" Draco smirked as he looked at my face. I must have been sporting a scowl. Angrily, I gave him a tight smile.
"Wonderful," I responded sarcastically. "So kind of you to have me come with files that I only received day before yesterday."
"Ah, yes, the oil. So what do you think of me buying the company?" he asked conversationally.
I remembered what he said to me the last time we were out. You're amazing to talk to… amazing to look at… amazing to be with? What the hell? Was this even the same Draco? That had been two months ago, and in those two months, those were the most romantic words he had ever said to me. After he'd said them, he'd clammed up like an idiot and hadn't spoken anything else that could classify as romantic since. I could not believe it. What was wrong with him?
"I don't know," I shrugged. "It's not my decision; I'm not about to make it for you."
"Who says that you're making the decision?" His tone suddenly narrowed.
"Well…you suggested," I helpfully reminded, at a loss for argument.
"Just because I asked you what you thought, seeing as you are the head of the muggle department of my company, doesn't mean that you're doing my job." His voice had turned cold and dangerous, much as I remembered it from seventh year at Hogwarts.
"Okay, okay, calm down," I tried to pacify him, but it was to no avail.
"You know," he hissed, "you're impossible to talk to. Everything I say to you, you take it the wrong way!"
Even the... you're amazing to be with? Amazing to look at? Amazing to…even all of that? Did I take it the wrong way? Was I making the proverbial castles in the air? Was I imagining everything?
"Yeah…" I finally spoke something, because he was looking at me so intensely it was impossible to keep shut (something I just don't do; we females by nature, we gotta talk, and I am one of the most talkative of them all). "Maybe I do."
I wanted to get up and leave, but was afraid to do so. What if he fired me? Normally I would have just left him there, but I needed the job more than ever, especially as I had begun to live on my own. We sat in terse silence until our food arrived, food I didn't even remember ordering, and began to eat in complete silence.
Finally I couldn't take it anymore. "So, the… oil," I started lamely.
He didn't say anything for a moment, and once again I was tempted to just leave him there. But just at that second, he spoke. "The oil…so has the company agreed to our terms yet?"
"No," I sighed desperately. "I've composed four drafts and they've refuted every single one. I honestly don't think this is a good business venture; if you want to invest in oil, I suggest a different company…actually," I brightened, "I have a friend in Texas whose father is an oil mogul. A Muggle, of course, but I'm sure I can secure a business deal easily once I point out your credentials."
He gave me a slow smile. "See, this is the kind of information I was asking you for earlier. That's… really good, um, go ahead and secure that deal then. I give you full permission. You may want to have a chat with Milton Taylor first, because he knows a lot about oil; he's the man that suggested I invest in it, but…that should come out, um, great."
Was it just me or had he seemed nervous accepting my policy? Ha! Take that! "Yeah… it should really work."
"Listen, I hope you're doing okay," he said abruptly and out of the blue. "I mean, I'm not one for relationship therapy… I mean, look at me, I've never had a serious relationship…but, I'm sure it's tough. If you want, I can recommend a friend's psychologist…if you want to, um, talk it out or do girly stuff like that."
I had to stifle a snort. Trust Draco to say "I can recommend a psychologist to talk to" instead of a "Well you can talk to me if you want". And for a friend? I didn't believe it. Must be the proverbial "friend"! "No, that's okay," I found myself saying back to him with a shy smile, "I think I'll survive. I mean, I have my friend Ginny, and… stuff."
"Is she seeing Potter?" he remarked casually, with an air of indifference, but I knew he cared. Cocky bastard never could keep his nose out of our business.
"No, she and Harry broke it off a while back. I never found out why though," I realized as I said it out loud. I never had. I'd been so wrapped up in my own little ordeals that I hadn't even helped Ginny through hers, while she'd been there for me the whole time. I'd really have to talk to her about it soon.
"And you?" he continued, giving a flirty wink to that same damned waitress as she sashayed by our table.
"And me?" I squeaked, a bit angry and a bit confused. "I just got out of a five year relationship, Draco, you can't expect me to be looking at anyone else!"
What a lie. Not one 'anyone else', but two.
"Really?" he smirked, his expression telling me that he didn't quite believe me, "I had a feeling that that was one of the reasons why you broke it off. You aren't fancying anyone else?"
"Absolutely not," I firmly stated. Any minute now, Merlin was going to smite me down for lying through my bloody teeth…
The check arrived before he could reply. He paid and we stood. "Absolutely not, eh?" he repeated as we left the restaurant. "Well, Hermione Granger—the Weasley's gone now, right?—when you're ready to tell me who, I'll be waiting."
And he Apparated away.
What was the deal with people Apparating before I could bloody answer them?! And what had he meant by that anyway?
After a few moments of pondering, I was truly angry at the git. How dare he! What was he implying? And then, it suddenly hit me, and everything from the last few days came back in a jumbled mess—from a sexy, shirtless Harry to a scheming certain someone…
There was just one thing that numbly echoed in my mind. Lavender had spread the word.
A/N: I apologize for the wait; I was visiting the Netherlands and there was just no way I could update. But now I'm back and I'm writing. Hope this chapter was up to your standards. Please review; I appreciate your feedback so much because it's so valuable!