Early in the Morning

Disclaimer: Own plot. And made up characters. That's it.

For all those who asked they make up . . .

Hermione was in Jewellery Exquisite much earlier than she normally was, so at the dot of seven, the door was pushed open and a fairly young woman wearing a pair of beige pants with a white cotton shirt.

Brushing back her hair, she lugged her briefcase upstairs to her office. At once she lit her favourite candles, vanilla again, and the scent intermingled with her perfume—Chance, by Chanel—and crept under her shut door and reveled in the emptiness. Hermione herself liked the peace and quiet, though missing the warmth when her employees and friends were present. She needed time for herself, not for work, for she had finished most of that, but for her personal life.

It had always been known that Hermione was an organized person; it was a fact taken for granted. And thus she organized what she thought about. Her little memos lay in a stack on her desk, ready to be sent out, and she wrote in her loopy but neat handwriting what she wanted them to do.

She worked in silence, as was her usual, with strong, extra strong black coffee. Undisturbed peace for half an hour was bliss for her. She had been shattered when Ron was gone, and drew into her shell. She still preferred silence now. It soothed her.

That was why she stiffened when she heard the tiny, near silent click.

Hermione was still slightly paranoid, a draw back from the days of Voldemort. The paranoia was more pronounced in Harry than in her or Ginny, but she still had traces of it. No one was supposed to be in here so early. So she quietly got up, snatched up her wand and opened her door and cautiously walked out.

She walked, slowly and immediately noticed the door to Malfoy's office was open.

"I'm behind you." It was a steel wrapped voice that broke the silence.

She whirled, ready to attack and stood face to face with Draco.

The relief was so sharp that she sagged against the wall. "Draco. Good morning. You startled me."

"I can see that, Miss Granger."

The argument of yesterday came rushing back to her with the cold, distant words and by the chips of ice that were his eyes. His face was cool, empty of expression as he stood, arms folded, watching her. The effect was that she felt like a small mouse being watched by a large cat waiting to spring.

He knew that she was nervous. He could sense it quite easily, which was odd, because she had a tendency to be void of all emotions. And really, he didn't care. He trusted, he was hurt. End of story.

She swallowed visibly, took a deep breath and one of the bits of hair that was dropping over her eye she brushed back. She became assured again. "Draco. I'm very sorry about the way I acted yesterday. It was ridiculous and childlike of me, and I'm sorry for having upset you and accused you of something completely ridiculous."

For Draco, the world stopped still. Since when had anyone apologized to him? "Apology accepted."

She nodded. "Good morning then." She retreated into her office again, and the door shut with a small bang. Then a thump, then a sob. And another.

Good gods above, she was crying, he realized. How odd. He couldn't remember the last time he'd ever seen or heard of her crying. . . . oh yes, when he'd spelled her teeth. And just to satisfy his curiosity, he Apparated, this time without the small pop.

She was leaning on the door, just sobbing. Nothing large, just a few choked tears. The water ran down her face, down her hands and dripped onto the carpet, where it made little dark stains.

"Why on earth are you crying?" he said, briskly.

She hadn't been aware of the fact that he was in there with her. "Me? Crying?" she said, trying to sound contemptuous of the idea and would have succeeded if her face hadn't been tear stained. "Why on earth would I do that?" she asked, mimicking his tone.

"I don't know. Are you alright?" he asked. Somehow his voice seemed a little less chilly, more concerned and . . . human.

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"That's what I asked. You continue to evade the question."

She pondered that, and then said "Because you're being such an ass. Acting all unconcerned, and all the while I know that I upset you, and you're pretending that I didn't!"

She could see that she touched a nerve. His eyes flickered in colour, and in emotion, which usually meant the same thing. A funny, storm cloud grey began to appear. "Why should you care if you did?"

"Because, I, at least, care about people's feelings, especially when I've hurt them. And I'm sorry. Again. What more do you want me to say?"

He pondered, eyes closed, one arm propping him up again. Warmth, body warmth radiated off him. When he opened them, they were a strangely hypnotic silver colour that fascinated her. "Actually, nothing more. And I'm . . . sorry I hurt you, Hermione."

When she looked up at him like that, hardly daring to believe what she had heard, he couldn't decide whether or not to be exasperated.

"Well. That settles that argument," she said, pushing off the door to return to her paper work.

"Where do you think you're going?" He'd efficiently trapped her against the door.

She looked at him as she would look at her friends who didn't understand their homework. "To my desk. Like you, I have to work."

"Take a break." And so he kissed her, warmly, softly, tenderly. And so she accepted what he gave her, an apology of the best kind. His hands slid through her hair, tangling themselves in the mass of waves and curls, pulling her gently closer to him. She was so petite, so warm, and so utterly female for all she pretended.

Hermione found, that when she pulled back, he'd tangled his fingers in her hair. "Draco, untangle yourself. You can't stay like that, forever."

He mock sighed. "Pity, my darling Hermione, I was so enjoying it. I suppose you'll send me off to work again?"

"You supposed right. Here's your list from me. M.J. will likely give you her own list. Now get to work."

And he did.

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Hermione was in a glowing good mood that morning, and the effect permeated to every one. It was not lost on Ginny at all; who it seemed was determined to talk to her.

"Well, good morning Hermione," she said, as she glided—as best as a pregnant woman glides—into her office. "Rumour has it that somebody looks gloriously pleased today. I wonder why," Ginny said winking.

Hermione rolled her eyes and tried to stop smiling, but failed. "Rumour also has it that I made love with a tall, handsome stranger on my desk this morning."

"Well, that one is a little far fetched," admitted Ginny. "Did you make up with Draco?"

"Yes, I did. Why it has me so pleased, I cannot possibly imagine."

Ginny had an idea, and though she still didn't think that Draco was the best person for Hermione, she wondered. She however, kept her mouth shut. "I could tell you. You made up, and you made out."

Hermione smiled, with out giving one hint of the answer. "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. And what appointments do I have today, married-and-pregnant-woman-acting-like-an-overexcited-teenager?"

Ginny became businesslike. "Plenty. Your next one is half an hour."

Hermione rolled up her eyes. "Bring on the appointments."

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He sat in Le Café again, rather moodily it was sure, and ignoring, as usual the waitress flirting with him. She was a brunette with glowing blonde highlights and a sparkly smile. He was drinking his coffee, as usual. Even though she'd made up to him he worried about himself.

A little.

The idea was ironic. Draco Malfoy and the Mudblood. Except that she was pretty damn gorgeous.

He was well aware when somebody slid into the seat opposite, and cracking open an eye, was not surprised to find her there. Her hair was not pulled back nor in its messy chignon, but loose, wild and wavy. "Greetings, Hermione."

She sighed, exhaustedly. "I was thinking of skipping lunch, but that wouldn't be good for me."

He did what he'd always longed to do, brush back one of the soft, tendrils of her hair and placed it behind her ears. "Certainly not," he agreed, with his voice a murmur. "It isn't healthy, and also, I wouldn't be able to enjoy your presence here opposite me."

She had shivered when he tucked her hair behind her ears. "I would hate to deprive you of that," she said, coolly. "A horrible thought."

"I do believe it is," he drawled quietly.

"My heart would break if I did that," she said, sarcasm cutting a knife through her voice.

He smiled lazily at her. "I would hate for that to happen," he said, voice quieter. "Terrible occurrence."

"Dreadful happening," she said, voice sharper.

"We'd all die because of that," he said, and was gratified by her laugh.

"I suppose you were describing yourself, Malfoy," she said, with an arch of the brow.

"Maybe, maybe not," he said, smirking coolly at her. He loved to tease her, as they switched moods constantly, making life so much more interesting. "But I must be returning to my work, Hermione, my darling. You would fire me otherwise."

"The flattery is impeccable. The point is true."

He mock sighed. "Such a pity. To lose my wit and charm."

"Charming of what?"

He laughed again, an actual laugh. "Who, not what. You, of course. See you Hermione."

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As he sat, feet up on the desk, doodling, Ginny opened the door and came in again.

He looked up at her. "Ah, Ginny. Why do I get the pleasure of this visit?"

She rolled her eyes, suspicious, but not overly so. "As I am personal assistant, as well as secretary to all of you, I must remind you that you have three appointments tomorrow morning, not to mention all your other work to finish. The ring to Mr. Nott is supposed to be finished in two weeks. He says he'll wait one day outside the deadline."

"He was always impatient."

She ignored that comment. "As I speak, you have been asked to design yet another wedding ring."

"Lovely."

"And I expect you intend to finish this by all deadlines?" she asked, looking rather disapproving of his feet on his desk, and the sketch pad of doodling.

He looked up at her, smiled quite nicely and said "Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No."

"Then why do you ask?"

She sighed. "Very well, Malfoy. I suppose you don't."

"Of course not. Thank you, Mrs. Potter, I'm sure that you must be getting back to your office before your . . ." here he trailed off "husband arrives." The last part was said with obvious distaste.

She narrowed her eyes at him, sending chocolate lightning at him. "I was well aware of that."

And with that she Apparated. He was not surprised, when, minutes after, he heard someone berating her for Apparating by herself. Apparently, Potter was worrying about her splinching herself.

He snorted. Ginevra? Splinching? Very, very unlikely.

And so he packed up. Another day's work done.

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Go on, review already.

Okay. Somebody said that they don't see any of the canon characters working in a jewellery store. Actually, neither did I, but it was either that or the fashion industry. :) I think they look better in the jewellery store . . . I knew you agreed with me.