The Meeting after Work

Disclaimer: Insert your own. I own nothing.

Hermione Granger was not in a good mood the Monday that she was supposed to meet with her employee Draco Malfoy. One reason was that she was worried about Ginny's reaction. Another was that she felt slightly guilty. The most important reason was that she just felt a little bit grumpy, probably a combination of all the above. Of course there was the fact that she had been scared. By the way she had been in the coffee shop. More herself than she had been in years.

But none of this showed in the calm, cool composure that she presented to the world. She looked quite in control of herself. Anyone would have seen a brunette in a cinnamon brown suit with cool, keep your distance eyes. And class. She radiated it, and she knew that.

And apparently that was what Ginny saw, since Ginny didn't ask what was wrong with her. Maybe she didn't want to see.

Secure in the retreat of her office, she lit a cinnamon candle, and let the spicy scent calm her down as she started the boring paperwork of the day. The dull paper work. She hated the paperwork, really she did. But it had to be done, and soon she was immersed in confusing calculations about something or the other. She intended to finish them by the time lunch came around. Maybe, with luck before that.

Damn.

She was actually managing without any interruptions whatsoever when she heard a knock on her door. She scrambled to put on her shoes. When those were back on, she called.

"Come in."

It was Malfoy. She did not have to look up to tell.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I am to meet you this evening, at three o clock?"

"Four."

'Very well."

He was gone. Though unfortunately he wasn't quite. The lingering smell of his cologne cut through the faint scent of her cinnamon candle, and was not very conducive to paperwork. It was far too male. Far too attractive. Far too Malfoy. She really was sick of herself sometimes. She had no right, thinking like this. Really none whatsoever.

Damn men. Damn Malfoy in particular.

She bent back to the paperwork, trying not to think about Malfoy. It was difficult.

After a while of opaque thinking, she finally was able to get the work that she needed done. She was pleased, and made herself a cup of tea instead of going to Le Café, since, she would still have to do more work. Just of a more interesting kind. She had to check on the Net, and make a few phone calls to see what was available to buy for summer. Her current stock would last her, then she would have to bring in stuff. Not that she minded since she was planning to anyway. A nice sale would be good.

She sipped her apple cinnamon tea, and connected to the Net and looked for watches. She kicked off her shoes, and drew up one of her feet, sipping her coffee and nibbling on her crunchy biscuits in between. She wondered if she could afford to bring in Cartier. That would be so much money, yet still . . .it could be worth it. Maybe wintertime.

She continued looking while flicking through a magazine, looking at the watches out, Also, she checked out the fashion predictions for summer, knowing very well that April wasn't too early to look for June. In between she was scribbling in her little black notepad. The one that wasn't quite business.

Before she knew it, Malfoy was knocking on her door. To her surprise it was four o clock.

"Come in," she said after hastily retrieving her shoes.

Draco Malfoy came in, and even as she told him to, sat.

His first question had nothing to do with business.

"Miss Granger, are you alright? Mrs. Potter seems fit to burst, and she wants to know where you are, and if you're alive."

Hermione allowed an unwilling smile to cross her face. "I'll go and calm her down."

She got up and found Ginny. "Hermione. You're alright."

"Of course I'm fine, Ginny."

"It's just that you hadn't come out since well, never, and I was wondering. What does Malfoy want?"

Hermione told her.

Ginny's eyes grew narrower and narrower. "Fine. When you're finished, then, I want a word." Hermione nodded.

Then returned to the cool Malfoy. Caught between a rock and a hard place.

"Well. The reason why you're here is because I need to discuss with you the plans for the summer stock. In other words, what exactly to be brought in for the summer."

"Fire away," he said, apparently uninterested. But she had caught the spark of interest in his fathomless grey eyes.

She carefully explained to him her plan. She told him of available gemstones, and excellent gold that could be fashioned into individual pieces. She also told him of the service that involved bringing your own stones, and they would create a piece for you. She explained about high class watches, and exactly what she wanted.

He nodded, pointing out things, and making suggestions where necessary.

She smiled at him, not the half smirks that crossed her face, or the elf smiles that she hated, but a genuine smile that showed how happy she was to get this done.

"But, amid all of this, there still has to be little lighthearted stuff like beaded rings, feathered necklaces, and funky watches. The thing is- how to display all of this in the shop windows?"

"Why the light hearted stuff?"

"It's the summer fashion prediction. Plus children like them."

"Oh." He appeared deep in thought.

"There are three large windows, correct?" he asked her, his eyes half shut, and his hair swinging over his shoulders.

"Correct," she said her voice icy again. She was irritated with herself for thinking that he looked dangerously sexy. He appeared to care not half a wit, though she could see him laughing at her from behind his cold grey eyes.

"Well, divide it into three sections. A piece of paper, please Miss Granger, and a pencil."

She handed them to him.

His hands flew over the paper, adding notes. Quickly, effortlessly.She was fascinated, watching his long fingered hands move so fast. Then he handed it back to her.

It was perfect. A free hand sketch of the beach, with real sand showed the little crazy beaded things, and big chunky watches. And in between were scattered loose gems. The sun was shining brightly, according to the notes. The next window had a sketch of the jungle, with feathery things scattered around like birds. Rich gems added sparkles in unexpected places, and she saw a silver bracelet draped like a snake. Midday.

The last window was done in two parts. One half held the classy side of nightlife, with draped diamonds, gold and silver elegantly done. The other side looked wild. Crazy partying nightclubs had funky gems, looking wild.

She looked up and met his eyes.

"It's perfect," she breathed.

He explained fully. "The early morning beach scene shows fun and frivolous stuff for the child in you. Then the jungle noon. The classy nightlife, with cocktails and balls is swanky. But then of course, the crazy nightclubs. The wild side of life. Sexy n' sultry."

It wasn't the words. They were innocent words enough. It was the way he said them. She couldn't help it. She blushed slightly pink. He smiled lazily at her, knowing full well what he'd done.

Really. The nerve of the man.

"Well, that settles so much," she said, recovering her speech and staring dead into his eyes. She kept hers as cold and impersonal as she could. "I will probably have to meet with you later, as well as your colleagues to discuss what is going to happen."

He stood and nodded.

"Dismissed," she said as imperiously as he used to at Hogwarts. The Mudblood days. "Good evening."

"Good evening."

She sat there a little after he left, still in surprise, still breathing as hard as if she'd ran a race. She had to calm down. She had blushed. The mask that she had worn for years was cracking now. All because of one Malfoy. True, he was sexy, but then he was a bastard.

He was dangerous.

Then she took up her little black note book, the one that wasn't quite business.The one where her sketches were not always gemstones, but sometimes dreams, and wishes. And she blinked in horror.

One of the pages was missing.

And it was a page. That could not afford to be lost.

Malfoy.

She let the shock sink in, then turned her mind to business. It would have to wait, since she was to talk to Ginny now.

She got up out of her office, discarding her shoes, and padded across to the desk that Ginny sat at, still finishing off something.

"Yes Gin? Do I have a forgotten appointment?"

Ginny looked up and Hermione knew it wasn't that. Her friend's eyes were sparkling, and she looked happy, thrilled, yet in a way in awe.

"Well, I've got to tell somebody. It's great, wonderfully great!" Her previous anger at Hermione had gone.

'What?"

"Mione, I'm pregnant!"

Hermione let this sink in, and then she grabbed Ginny a huge hug. This was wonderful news. "When did you find out?" she squealed.

"Just now. I was wondering, so I did a pregnancy test, then went to the hospital and got a professional one done! I'll find out boy or girl later. Maybe it's even a twin!"

"A twin?" Hermione stood dumbstruck.

Ginny nodded. "They run in my family."

"Well, come on. We can't keep this to ourselves, Ryan'll want to know-but be prepared to answer all the detailed questions. Ahem. About the conceiving. " Hermione told Ginny briskly. Her upset had vanished, and she was totally happy for her friend.

They went downstairs, found the other girls, and soon they were all in a fit of squealing, congratulations and a lot of crying around Ginny.

She was utterly happy.

But when she got home late, lying in her bed too exhausted to sleep after celebrating with Ginny and her family, she realized that she was, in a tiny way, jealous. She wanted children, but there was no hope left for her. A single woman.

Except now, her enemy had turned up. And there was no denying it, she was fascinated by him. Even if the sick bastard had stolen a page from her private notebook. Nothing majorly embarrassing. But that didn't mean a thing-it was just a fascination.

The old wound opened in her heart again. After seeing Ginny and her family, most of whom had survived the war, except for Mr. Weasley and Percy, she felt said. Ron should have been there too, goggling at Harry and exploding at his little sister. He should have been there to laugh at her, to hug. In fact, she should have been lulling a child. Maybe a baby girl, with big brown eyes and freckles, with red hair.

The tear fell again, hidden in the darkness, hurting.

Noone could see her, no one knew.

She missed Ron . . . why had he never come home? Slowly, slowly, she accepted the inevitable. He had to have died. He would never have left her like this. Widowed before she was married.

Long after she fell asleep the images haunted her, torturing her. For Hermione Granger bore things without help. No one, would ever know.

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