Disclaimer: Characters and settings are property of J.K. Rowling. What you don't recognize is mine. No copyright infringement is intended.

Summary: Hermione Granger had always been the brightest of the bright; the best of the best. A previous Head Girl at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Hermione had aspirations to become a Healer – the best there ever was. But things didn't turn out the way she wanted them to. Hermione becomes the "odd one out" of the magical world, solely because of her non-magical heritage. Now, Hermione, aged 22, is poor and desperate. After being kicked out of her job at the Goblin Liaison Office and getting thoroughly pissed, Hermione searches the classified section of the Daily Prophet for a new job. She finds one, but it isn't quite what she expected… Particularly when she finds out that her boss is her old school tormentor, Draco Malfoy. Now, Hermione has to work on projects that become increasingly difficult, deal with how her friends finally seem interested in her life again, and, most importantly, deal with the Draco Malfoy, her new boss… Does Hermione have what it takesto make it in a wizarding world where she's the odd one out?

X-X-X-X-X

Hermione shrugged into the serviceable black robes that bore the crest of MCC. Underneath it, she wore faded jeans and an old Puddlemere United t-shirt that Harry had given her for Christmas when they were eighteen. It was well worn and a bit ratty, but it reminded her of her old friends, and she'd need that on her first day.

When Hermione first entered MCC, Malfoy was waiting for her, amused. "I'm taking you to your lab. Follow me."

Wordlessly, she obeyed, following him to the third floor. The 'lab' was more of a miniature library, minus the comfy chairs and plush carpet. Bookshelves covered every wall, and each bookshelf was packed with books. "This is your work room," said Malfoy coolly. "You may open the curtains and windows if you wish. Try not to make too much noise, and keep it clean. You'll have to clean up after yourself."

"What do you want me to do first?"

"Here." He yanked a book off the shelf and thumped it on the table before Hermione. Hermione glanced at it: Panacea. She flipped to the inside, and read the words written beneath the title: A Compilation of the Studies of Helga Hufflepuff. She raised her eyebrows, and glanced at Malfoy, who continued in a professional tone.

"Give me your hand."

"Beg pardon?"

Impatiently, he repeated, "Give me your hand."

"Why?"

Without answering, he seized her hand, pointed his wand at her hand, and hissed something. Immediately, a flame sprouted from the tip and Hermione squealed, struggling against Malfoy's hold. She eventually ripped herself free, but not before her hand was badly burned. "OW! You stupid bast-"

"Don't insult your employer, Granger," said Malfoy with a smirk. He pulled a tiny jar and a handkerchief from his pocket. Using two fingers, he lathered the orange paste over her hand (it stung, quite painfully) and then tied the handkerchief around her hand, his own hand lingering on the knot for a few moments before he withdrew. "There."

"What the hell was that for?" snapped Hermione savagely. "How dare you-"

"I was trying to make a point," he said calmly.

"Oh, really?" Hermione's voice was now a sarcastic drawl. "And pray tell, what point were you trying to make?"

His grin was wry. "Wizards can heal hangovers, broken bones in a moment, but there is no better way to heal a burn than that." He pointed to her hand, which was still stinging. Hermione chewed her lip to keep from crying – the paste stung almost more than the actual burn did. Almost.

"What's your point, Malfoy?"

"My point is that I want you to do some cross-referencing – starting with that book," he added, pointing to the one he'd given her, "-and search for a more efficient cure. That takes about a week to heal." Hermione's mouth popped open in outrage, but he wasn't finished. "I want something that works faster and doesn't sting, so we can market it – mainly to dragon camps in Romania. Right now, this project is being funded by one. This is your first assignment, so I hope for your sake that you do well. Anything you need – potion ingredients, whatever – should be in there." He pointed to a door off to the side. "That's a storage room – it's got a few extra cauldron, all the common ingredients, and some rare ones. Anything you need, you ask me – I'll let you know if you're spending too much." He smirked. "We are on a budget. And good luck, by the way." His eyebrows rose. "Understand what I want you to do?"

"Sure thing."

"Over there," he said, pointing to a box on the desk by the window, "is your post box. Your owl will bring you notices from me, along with new assignments. Oh," he added, whistling. A pygmy owl sailed through the air and settled on his shoulder. "This is Calliope." He held up his arm; the owl hopped onto it (Where did those arm guards come from? I swear he wasn't wearing them before…) and held the small owl out to Hermione. She stared at it. "It's yours, Granger," he said impatiently. "Unless you already have one?"

"What? I – er – no. No, I don't."

"Didn't think so. Happy Christmas," he added sarcastically. Calliope clambered onto Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione smiled faintly. "It's the middle of July."

"Fine. Happy Christmas in July. Whatever. Over there are some crates with things in them that you might fine useful." He pointed, and then shot her an impatient look. "Well? You've got your assignment! Get to work!" He stared to leave.

"Hey Malfoy?" He stopped, but didn't turn. "Thanks."

"…Whatever." And he was gone.

X-X-X-X-X

When at last Hermione returned home, it was late: almost eleven o'clock. But she felt better and more prepared for her second day of work.

Hermione dumped the box of things on her living room floor. She'd brought some of the things Malfoy had given her home: some lime green goggles and a fuchsia lab coat. And, for some reason, a turquoise and magenta striped umbrella. She had no idea why he'd given it to her, but she'd found it in the boxes and assumed it was hers.

A purring noise reached her ears – Hermione turned and saw her cat, Crookshanks, approaching her, meowing loudly. "Hello, Crookshanks. This is Calliope. Malfoy gave her to me." That sounded so weird. Malfoy gave it to me. Wow. Never thought I'd be saying that… oh, Ron would go insane if he found out I was working for Malfoy.

…Not that he'd particularly care, or anything. Too busy with his own life, I suppose…

Hermione sighed, and went to the cupboard, rummaging around until she found a box of Cheerios. Tiredly, she flopped onto her couch and reached her hand in, waving her wand at the radio. The Wireless turned on.

"…Potter racks up another win for Puddlemere United! Arguably the best seeker since Eunice Murray and Roderick Plumpton, rumors fly that the Hero of both the Wizarding World and the Bulrushes is engaged to the stylish Miss Virginia Weasley, who works for the Committee of Experimental Charms…"

"Ha! Harry and Ginny engaged? Not bloody likely… Ginny would have written to gloat about it by now…" Hermione instantly felt bad. She adored Ginny like a sister and Harry like a brother, and was genuinely happy for the both of them, but she often felt like her upscale friends were leaving her behind, as if she was one of those 'Well, it's been fun, but you're just not good enough' people.

Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out her folded notes, scanning them. The book Malfoy had told her to read was actually quite fascinating, and Hermione would have liked to bring it home for some extra reading, but he probably would have accused her of theft, and that was the last thing she needed.

"Hmm… let's see… Celeritas Charm… combine with Crematus Saluber Potion… ask Malfoy for ingredients…" Hermione sighed, folded her notes up, and replaced them in her bag, tuning into the Wireless again.

"…Miss Weasley, seen with a brunet young man, who is rumored to be her illicit lover…"

"'Brunet young man'? Probably Neville," mused Hermione aloud, thinking of how Ginny was working to 'heal' his parents. "Poor guy. But Harry probably had the sense to see through those rumors… I hope," she added.

"Are you joking? Potter's an idiot. Now, my bet is that he and Weasel have an almighty row in the middle of some crowded place – preferably in the middle of one of his Quidditch matches, or in Diagon Alley – and she slaps him, he accuses her of being a slut, and they go off their respective ways. The next day, there are photos in the tabloid of Potter shagging the other Weasel – you know, Ron – because both have turned gay over night. Then the female Weasel decides that-"

Hermione had nearly fallen off of her couch at his voice. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!" she snapped at the wildly smirking Draco Malfoy, who was leaning against the doorway.

"What, Potter becoming gay? You're right. He's self-absorbed enough that he'd probably look in the mirror and fall in love with himself."

"Coming from you, that's rather rich."

"It's the whole being the 'Hero of the Wizarding World,' thing," continued Malfoy, quite in his element. "I don't know why he'd fall in love with himself, he looks so scrawny and underfed, and-"

"What, you've spent time watching him? I didn't know you have a thing for other men like that." She pursed her lips. "Must be the whole bitter enemies thing. Oh, well, it's your life." For once, Malfoy seemed momentarily speechless, and Hermione patted herself on the back. "It's probably his fame that you're attracted to," she mused teasingly.

"Yeah, well – at least I'm rich and blond!"

"All right, I'll admit that you've got the whole 'rich' thing going for you, but seriously, blond? I doubt that has anything to do with it." She cocked her head. "Besides, that whole platinum blond thing is a bit suspicious. Are you sure that you and your family don't go off dying your hair? I mean, seriously, who has platinum blond hair?"

Malfoy looked affronted. "I would never dye my hair. And anyway, I happen to think my platinum blond hair is extremely sexy. Don't you?"

"Not at all." Hermione fought to keep her mouth from twitching into a smile.

"And anyway, veela have platinum blond hair."

Fair point, thought Hermione. "Are you a veela?"

"Not exactly, no…"

"Then why do you have platinum blond hair?"

"My ancestors were veela!"

"So can you turn into a vicious bird when you get angry?"

"Bloody hell, Granger, if I could turn into a vicious bird when I was angry, I'd be a vicious bird right now." His eyes widened. "This wasn't what I came in here to say at all."

"Which brings up an interesting question. How exactly did you get in here?"

"I told your landlady that I was your boyfriend and you had left your bra at my place." Hermione choked on her Cheerios, and Malfoy grinned. "Anyway, I came to see how you've been doing. You'd left by the time I got out of my meeting."

"Oh, it's fascinating – I've got some really good ideas, and-"

"That's great," he said casually, cutting her off as he lit a cigarette. "We can have a working lunch tomorrow to discuss what you'll need to begin your experiments. The Dragon Camp will cover the expenses, of course." He cast an unimpressed eye around her flat. "This is the most bloody boring thing I've ever been in."

"Yes. I call it Chic Poor."

"Chic Poor? For God's sake, Granger, I thought even you could do better than that." Hermione made a face at him, but she once again fought to keep herself from smiling.

At long last, a tiny smile burst forth, and Malfoy smirked in response. "I don't find you very funny," she told him, despite her smile.

"That's too bad. So many other witches do." He sighed theatrically. "Pity, really. I came here in hopes of a good time, and instead I got shot down… rejected… denied… rebuffed… decli-"

"For heaven's sake, Malfoy! What do you want?" All traces of a smile were gone.

"I wanted to ask you to lunch." She glowered. "To discuss the expenses of your coming experiments," he clarified. "What do you say?"

"You're my boss." She hated saying that. "I don't think I have a choice."

"You're right; you don't. Anyway, it would do you some good. You know, being a Mudblood and all…" Hermione scowled. "…Being seen with a respected pureblood… might help you get a job when I eventually fire you."

"That's a very optimistic outlook for the future."

"For me, it is." He smirked, and took her hand, bending low to kiss it mockingly. Hermione yanked her hand back, her cheeks flaming. "Two o'clock, in the Whirling Dervish. Dress nicely, please. And I still expect you to clock in at eight and get on with your research." He left, shutting the door behind him.

Hermione rubbed her eyes, and then a thought came to her. "I hope he didn't really tell Mrs. Jones that I left my bra over at his place…"

X-X-X-X-X

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, her hands fidgeting in her lap. "Is Mr. Malfoy here yet?" she asked a passing waiter nervously.

"No, Miss, not yet." He had a kind smile. "A friend of yours?"

Hermione opened her mouth to say no, but what came out instead was, "In a manner of speaking."

He smiled. "You're a lucky lady. Many would give quite a few galleons to have lunch with Mr. Malfoy. I wouldn't worry, if I were you. He's usually half an hour late."

Oh, whoopee. Another ten minutes of waiting around, with all these prissy rich wizards and witches staring at me like I'm some sort of-

"Are you his special lady friend, Miss?"

Hermione nearly knocked over her goblet of water. "I – er – no! No, no, no. No, I'm not. I'm just his… er…"

"Thank you, Antoine, that will do." The waiter bowed to Malfoy and left. Malfoy smirked. "It's rather unbecoming to flirt with the waiters in such a public, upscale place. You've never been to the Whirling Dervish?"

"Can't say that I have."

"That figures." He slid into a seat across from her, expertly shaking his napkin twice and laying it in his lap. "All right, Granger, what've you got for me?"

"Well, I thought about combining a Celeritas Charm with the Crematus Saluber Cream. That's the obvious thing to do, of course, so I doubt it will work, else others would have tried and discovered it before. Nonetheless, it sounded like a good starting point."

"Anything else?"

"In the book you gave me – Panacea – there are some rather interesting diary entries of Helga Hufflepuff, who was a renowned Healer of her tim-"

"Granger, I know all this."

Hermione made a face, and continued, ignoring his comment. "There was mention of the time that one of her estates in Scotland was ravaged by a fire. Many perished in the flames, but there were several who survived, and she used a particular potion to treat the burns on some of the burned victims. It was called the 'Ignis Geluque' Potion. That roughly translates to Fire and Ice, and I thought… Well, anyway, it's a very difficult potion – the recipe has been lost over time, because it's too pricey to make, generally, but maybe if I find the original recipe and tweak it by using cheaper ingredients, it might be better than what we already have, but the problem is finding the recipe – but I figured that a lot of research combined with some luck might get some results so…" Hermione paused to glower at Malfoy, who was pretending to snore. She seized a roll and chucked it at him. It bonked his nose and landed in his lap. Malfoy stared at it, and then at her. "At least pretend to listen to me," she snapped, looking injured.

Malfoy bit into the roll thoughtfully. "These are good," he said, after swallowing. He took another bite. Then he offered the already half-eaten roll to her. "Want a bite?"

Hermione was torn between looking annoyed, disgusted, and amused all at once. She pushed his hand aside. "No thanks."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself." And then he proceeded to stuff the rest of it into his mouth. Hermione watched him reach for another roll.

"Tell me," she said finally, her voice tinged with sarcasm. "Did you listen to a word I said?"

"Yes. Scotland was ravaged by a fire. I got that far, and got bored." Hermione sighed. "Well, come on. Don't tell me that Weasley and Potter never got bored, with you handing out useless information all the time."

"It's not useless!" she snapped in response.

"I notice that you don't deny that they got bored."

"Ugh! Malfoy, be serious!"

"I am being serious. I'm being perfectly serious. See? No smile or anything." He crossed his arms and smirked. "Serious."

"You're smirking."

"Yes, but one can smirk and be serious, if they know how to do it correctly."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really." He smirked again. "I could teach you, if you like."

"Could you stand to be seen with a Mudblood?" she asked scathingly.

"I'm being seen with one now, aren't I?"

"Hermione? Oh my gosh, Hermione? Is that you?"

"No," said Malfoy moodily. "It's the other Mudblood named Hermione."

Parvati squealed and threw her arms around Hermione, half-strangling the other woman. "Oh my gosh, it's been so long! How've you been? What're you up to? Are you dating any… gracious. You're here with Malfoy."

"Good observation, Patil," sneered Malfoy.

"But it's… Malfoy."

"I think we've established that," interrupted Malfoy loudly, before Hermione could say anything. "And we're doing something, so if you don't mind…"

Parvati had taken a seat. Hermione bit her lip, trying not to smile at the sour look on Malfoy's face.

"Patil, this is a private conversation," said Malfoy, but she was ignoring him.

"So, are you dating him? I don't know why you would. I mean, I suppose he's good-looking and all," she glanced at Malfoy hear, and his face brightened, "but really, other than that, he's got very little going for him." The smile dropped off of his face at that. "Well, I suppose he's rich, too, isn't he? But he's got the personality of a… er… a Blast-Ended Skrewt. I don't know how you can stand him."

"Excuse me," said Malfoy loudly. "I'm sitting right here. There's no need to talk about me as though I'm not."

She continued ignoring him. "I heard you quit your job at the Ministry. Whatever for? Well, I guess if you're dating Malfoy, you don't really need money…"

"Parvati," said Hermione loudly. "I. Am. Not. Dating. Bloody. Malfoy!"

"Thank God," said Malfoy. "I'd die if you did."

Hermione glowered at him, and turned back to Parvati. "I work for him," she explained, but moments later, she regretted it.

"Oh, I see," said Parvati, nodding her head sagely. "It's one of those relationships."

Hermione gave her a very strange look, and then it clicked and she sputtered. "I – What!? No! No, of course not! You thought that he and I-!? I mean, Malfoy and – I mean – no, just no."

"I'll have you know that there's nothing wrong with that sort of relationship," said Malfoy, in an injured tone. Both women proceeded to ignore him (something he wasn't quite used to).

"Then what sort of relationship do you have?"

"We don't! I'm just – he's my employer. At Magical Medical Charms, Inc.!"

"It's Medical Charms Corporation," corrected Malfoy sternly. "Honestly, Granger. How stupid are you? MCC, not MMCI!"

He was still ignored. "Oh…" said Parvati, now understanding. "I feel bad for you, then," she said decidedly. "That must suck."

"Believe me, it does." Hermione cleared her throat. "It was lovely speaking to you, Parvati," she said, smiling. "But I've really got to finish this – we're discussing my budget for my project. Maybe I can owl you and we can get together sometime?" suggested Hermione, having no intention of doing any sort of thing.

"Yes, that sounds like fun," agreed Parvati, getting up from her chair. "I'll wait for it." She waved. "Bye, Hermione!"

Hermione smiled and waved, and then turned to Malfoy, who was scowling. "Now, where were we?" she asked sweetly.

He made a face. "Forget it. I can't even remember what I wanted to discuss."

"My budget."

"Yes, that. I'm not quite willing to let you go off buying whatever you want for this potion nonsense of yours-"

"Hah! You were listening to me!"

Malfoy ignored this, continuing, "-So I'm going to have a trusted advisor go with you tomorrow. Show up at your office at nine o'clock tomorrow – I'm giving you an extra hour to sleep in, be grateful – and I'll have somebody escort you about Diagon Alley to get whatever you might need."

"All right."

Malfoy raised a hand and snapped his finger. "Oy, Antoine! How about some service, here?"

X-X-X-X-X

A/N: Wow. That took me so incredibly long to type up and post, didn't it? That's because I had to rewrite it a dozen times… literally. I kept finding stuff I didn't like, wanting to tweak things. I'm still not fully satisfied with this, but… oh, well. There it is. I also redid the summary in the first chapter (which is also at the top of this chapter) and I – dun-dun-dun! – Gave the landlady a name! Mrs. Jones. Yeah. That's about it… I hope you like.

If you're a fan of MWPP, go read my other fic – a Marauder's Girl. It's my main project, and I'm really proud of it, so… yeah.

XOXO

Peaches