The second incident occurred at work.
Ginny had been very impressed with Hermione's tactics. "Ron looked like he'd eaten about a pound of Cockroach Cluster," she had remarked as they had arrived home later that night, and Hermione had gone to sleep with a very smug smile on her face.
The next morning however, Neville was less impressed. "I don't think it's really nice for anyone," he said thoughtfully as he pointed his wand at the kettle, causing it to emit a high-pitched screech as it reached a boil. "To you, or Ron, or Lucius."
"And are we caring about being nice to Lucius Malfoy now?" Hermione said acidly.
"I'm just going over the facts," Neville said, smirking in a way that she knew made all the girls in Herbology swoon over Professor Longbottom. "You said he was giving you alcohol in a time of need."
"He was patronizing me," Hermione said fiercely. "He said I needed it with the night I was having. The audacity! He's a condescending little twat, and don't act like he isn't," she threatened upon seeing Neville open his mouth to argue.
"Okay," Neville said in an intentionally neutral tone. "This is true. He can be condescending."
"That reminds me," Hermione frowned as he handed her a cup of chamomile tea in a Spice Girls mug, "just when did you and Luna get so friendly with the Malfoys?"
"Draco's helped Luna out of a few tight spots with the Ministry," Neville said appreciatively. "She and George may have imported a few things that are not entirely… let's say, Ministry approved."
"Why on earth would he do that?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows high on her forehead.
"Well, you know George, he's been never been a stickler for rules –"
"Not George. Malfoy," Hermione said.
"People change, Hermione," Neville shrugged. "He grew up, realised that he had been a prat, and that was that. I mean, by the end of it, the Malfoys didn't really care about Voldemort anymore, did they? Remember what Harry said at the Trials? They were just trying to survive, and protect their family, like the rest of us. That's the only reason they weren't bloody obliterated, like the rest of Voldemort's supporters."
Hermione snorted. "Okay, well maybe Draco has turned over a new leaf." She paused and hoped that Neville would take that to mean the same could not be said for Mr Malfoy.
Her stomach cramped in mortification at the thought of him and she hastily sipped her tea, hoping it would calm her. Snippets of their conversation seemed to play on repeat inside her brain. Snape's cape, she thought wearily. At least she didn't work in his department. If all went well, she would never have to see Lucius Malfoy again.
So of course he was sitting in her office when she arrived at work on Monday morning.
Hermione jumped, nearly losing her grip on her coffee. Almost immediately, she felt her palms begin to sweat. What was he doing here? Her stomach twisted. This could not be good.
"Late to work, Miss Granger?" Malfoy asked with a look of mock surprise. "I never thought the day would come."
She glared at him, outraged. It was nine fifteen on a Monday morning, and he was here? Was nothing sacred? "What – I – how long have you been in my office?!"
"Seventeen minutes, give or take," Mr Malfoy said, sounding thoroughly unimpressed.
"Why have you been in my office for seventeen minutes?"
"Perhaps if you had arrived on time –"
"Who let you into my office?"
There was a knock at her door; Hermione whipped around to find a completely unabashed Susan Bones standing in the doorway.
"By the way, Hermione, Lucius Malfoy's waiting for you," she said cheerfully and winked, shutting the door behind her.
Jaw clenched and shoulders tight, Hermione slowly rotated back around to face a now smirking Mr Malfoy. Oh how she wanted to curse him! An attack like this, on a Monday morning when she had not yet had her coffee, was very much below the belt. Then the memory of him overhearing her discussion with Ginny about all things below the belt popped into her head, and her face flooded with colour. She took a deep breath in and tried to gather herself as she sat behind her desk. "Mister Malfoy," she began, not entirely managing to keep her tone civil, "please, by all means, tell me whatever it is that you came here to tell me so that you can leave."
"Well, let me start by saying that this is entirely your fault," Mr Malfoy said brusquely, his grey eyes narrowed to slits as he slapped a copy of the Daily Prophet onto her desk.
Hermione snatched at the paper, her stomach sinking as she hastily scanned the first page. Good God, what would be mentioned here? Her latest break up with Ron? Anything she and Ginny had talked about at the Ministry party?
When she finally found it, the shock went through her like a shot of Firewhisky. She let out a quick bark of laughter and immediately clapped her hand to her mouth.
"Yes, I was also quite surprised to see that we're lovers," Mr Malfoy said shortly, "and that we've been having a secret and apparently rather passionate affair for the past three months."
Hermione kept her eyes firmly on the article, although she couldn't seem to focus on the words. HERMIONE GRANGER CAUGHT – MINISTRY AFFAIR TO REMEMBER, the title read.
"Well. Who believes Rita Skeeter anymore?" Hermione said as loftily as she could, although her blood was starting to boil. Maybe it was time to take action and alert Ministry officials that Rita was an unregistered Animagus… with a jolt, she remembered that she was, in fact, a Ministry official. God, how did she become such a boring shite?
"Whether it's believable or not doesn't matter, the fact is that it's, ah, 'scandalous'," Mr Malfoy said coolly, his grey eyes cold. There was something different about this conversation; he wasn't teasing her as he had on Saturday night, and she didn't know if she preferred this.
He was right about a scandal though – Merlin's beard! It would be like when Mrs Weasley thought she had been stringing Harry along in their fourth year – only this was worse. To be secreting dating Lucius Malfoy…
"Oh shit," Hermione said, "this is bad."
"Really? I would've thought you'd be quite pleased. It seems your little trick had just the effect you wanted," Mr Malfoy drawled. "Has he begged for you back yet?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Hermione said stiffly.
"Weasley," Mr Malfoy said, a slight sneer twisting his lips as though the mere taste of the word was something vile. "This is you trying to get him back when, honestly, Granger, you could do so much –"
"I'm not trying to get Ron back!" Hermione said, flaring up.
He cocked his head and she could tell he didn't believe her. "Oh?"
"No chance!" Hermione said definitely. "I was just trying to – well, piss him off. I'm sorry," she added, meaning it. "I didn't think anyone else would notice, let alone care."
"Lucky you were right as always, Miss Granger," Mr Malfoy said in a voice heavy with sarcasm, and the sheer impertinence of the man brought her temper to the surface.
"Oh, I forgot, poor you! How embarrassing to be caught with a Mudblood!" Hermione snapped, her temper fraying. "Now, did you come here for any reason other than to whine and moan, or are we quite finished?"
He fixed her with a hard stare that she struggled to hold. "We most certainly are. Good day, Miss Granger," he said icily and without waiting for her response, he rose to his feet, wrenched open her door and stormed out of her office.
Mondays really were the worst.
"How long has it been going on?" Susan demanded, hurtling into Hermione's office as soon as the coast was clear.
"Sorry Susan, but nothing is going on," Hermione said brightly. She refused to let Rita Skeeter or Lucius Malfoy ruin her day, even though at this point she knew they very much had.
Susan guffawed. "Please, I saw you two when I walked in! You looked about ready to tear each other's clothes off."
More like ready to curse each other's eyes out, Hermione mused. If anything, it seemed that Mr Malfoy had been in a worse mood than her.
Good, she thought sourly. So why did she feel a little bit guilty?
Maybe Neville had succeeded in manipulating her conscience. Maybe she felt the teensiest bit bad that she had also behaved like a bit of a knob on Saturday night.
"Nothing? Seriously?" Susan asked, her face falling. "You and Lucius Malfoy aren't at it like rabbits whenever one of you has to work late?"
"Oh God," Hermione moaned, laying her head on her desk.
"He's got a nice office, too. Very sturdy looking desk. And that cane." Susan cleared her throat, shivering. "Bloody hell, you are coming over tonight and you are giving me details."
"If you need to talk about this with someone, I'd recommend Ginny Weasley," Hermione huffed, pressing her heated face into the cool wood of her desk, and felt a buzz against her hip. Digging her phone out of her jacket pocket, she saw a text from Ginny. Just got an owl from Mum demanding Daddy Malfoy scandal details. Prepare thyself for the storm.
"Oh God," Hermione wailed, clapping her hands to her face.
"Merlin, you'd think you were over his desk right now," Susan said, nimbly avoiding Hermione's jinx and slamming her office door shut.
This was a nightmare!
But how could she have known that this would turn into a Skeeter worthy scandal? She skimmed the article again, her stomach cramping… Hermione Jean Granger, Golden Girl, not so responsible after all… well, she was trying to be un-Hermione-ish… clearly seen cuddling up to Lucius Malfoy, and not for the first time… Scamander's scarf, it had barely been a brush… bystander claims they heard Ms. Granger and Holyhead Harpies Captain, Ginny Weasley, discussing both her tired relationship with renowned Auror, Rupert Weasley, and Granger's steamy new affair … damn Ginny, she'd told her to be appropriate! Ron being listed as Rupert, however, that was quite something… "It's obvious something is going on, she can barely look at him," says one trusted source…
"Because I embarrassed myself!" she hissed, throwing the paper down in despair.
There was a knock on her office door. "Just confirming, you are coming over tonight?" Susan's voice queried from behind the door.
Hermione, enraged, said nothing. Rita Skeeter's article infuriated her more than she thought it would, partly because her own attempt to hurt Ron had kindled such a thing. Merlin, here she was hoping that people wouldn't believe it, and yet Susan Bones, a woman of high intelligence and good reason, was doing just that.
How many others would believe it? Thank Dobby, her parents didn't get the Prophet… but so many people in her life did! She pictured Harry reading it over his morning pumpkin juice, perhaps spitting it out in shock. She could see Viktor Krum, his already heavy brow furrowing even more. She thought of the Weasleys, of George badgering Luna at work, something like disgust on his face… of Molly and Arthur and their disappointment… of Ron…
The heavy weight in her stomach suddenly lifted. Hermione stared at the article, her fury dissolving as she read through it again, and the vaguest hint of a plan beginning to take form in her mind.
The next time she read it, she laughed. Oh yes. This could work.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she leapt to her feet, bustling past Susan and making her way to the Atrium as quickly as her star boots would let her.
She could definitely see it now; the intrigued glances, the sly smiles. All this because of one (very chaste) brush-up at a party? These people must be pressed for drama, she thought. One idiot had the gall to wolf whistle, which she fixed with a quick twitch of her wand and a mutter of "Langlock."
The wizard gagged as his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.
Before she knew it, her feet had carried her to the door of Mr Malfoy's office. Last chance to back out, she thought. This would be a difficult and, at times, grueling endeavour even if her plan worked accordingly. Just the thought of what this plan might entail made her want to go back to her office and hide under her desk.
Un-Hermione-ish, she thought firmly and walked into Mr Malfoy's office with her head held high.
Merlin, Susan had been right; it was a nice office. The enchanted windows showed a skyline that appeared to be the opulent Karlskirche in Vienna.
The expression on Mr Malfoy's face very nearly made her reconsider taking the seat in front of his desk (which, she had to admit, did indeed look sturdy). He looked about ready to curse her, and as she opened her mouth to state her case, she paused; a photo on his desk caught her eye.
It showed Narcissa and a small Draco, perhaps one or two, in front of a Christmas tree, their faces donning identical expressions of euphoria as they moved in the frame. Draco was excited about the lights on the fir tree, and Narcissa, her blonde hair in the kind of elegant chignon Hermione had tried for the other night, held a hand over her heart, glancing at the photographer (Lucius, Hermione assumed) with a look that seemed to say the beautiful simplicity of Draco's joy brought her both anguish and delight.
The photo shocked her. She'd never assumed the Malfoys capable of having moments like those. She could hardly believe Lucius Malfoy could have something so familial and warm in his office. To have something like that would give one the impression that he could experience emotions and feelings, something Hermione was quite sure he did not.
"Are you lost, Miss Granger?" Mr Malfoy said irritably. "Or did you simply feel like feeding the rumour mill?"
"Feel like raising your popularity?" Hermione asked smugly. "I have a plan," she added upon seeing his eyebrows rise.
"And what makes you think my, ah, popularity needs tending to?"
"Narcissa was the one who helped Harry at the crucial moment," Hermione said bluntly, trying to ignore the photo. "Draco was the child forced to serve Voldemort in an effort to save his family. Meanwhile, you were responsible for a Basilisk Petrifying children at Hogwarts, attacking six teenagers at the Ministry, and keeping Mister Ollivander, Dean Thomas and Luna in a cellar, and no one was exactly forcing you to do as such."
There was a very chilly silence as he surveyed her. "Your opinion of me is, as ever, most flattering."
"It's not just my opinion," Hermione said casually, although she felt as though she were tiptoeing across a floor comprising of red-hot pokers and Blast-Ended Skrewts. It was true; although Lucius was not out of favour thanks to Harry's testimony, he was certainly the least favorable of the Malfoy family in the public eye.
He lifted his chin ever so slightly, his grey eyes narrowed. As he hadn't yet told her to get out, Hermione assumed this meant she continue on.
"Having a public relationship with a Muggle-born would definitely shake up those who think you're still a pureblood fanatic."
"Assuming I care what they think," Mr Malfoy said unblinkingly.
"It could be beneficial to you."
"Really?" Mr Malfoy said, a look of mock astonishment on his face. "I think the person for which this would be most beneficial would be you."
Hermione said nothing.
"I have money and respect," Mr Malfoy said lazily, focus shifting to the documents laid out in front of him. "Popularity is not something I am particularly concerned with."
"And how's that helping Draco at the Ministry?" Hermione asked hastily. "From what he was telling Ginny –"
His eyes met hers as he cut across her, his tone as sharp as broken glass. "Don't you dare try to use my son, do I make myself clear?"
Hermione bit her tongue. Already she was regretting asking for his help. "Yes," she said quickly. "That was – I'm sorry."
"No," said Mr Malfoy, his pale eyes sliding back to the papers on his desk.
"No?" Hermione repeated, confused.
"You know, I was under the impression you were quite bright," Mr Malfoy said, rather nastily in her opinion. "No, Granger. I have absolutely no interest in doing anything that may benefit you. Now, if that's all…" He let his voice tail off. As far as he was concerned, she was no longer there.
Hermione didn't rise from the chair. Her mind was buzzing. She had obviously crossed a line by bringing Draco into the mix, and this whole idea was a long shot anyway. She had better just leave; it had been a stupid plan anyway. But then the thought of Draco made her think of Draco and Ron, hurling insults at each other, simply echoing the feud of their fathers', and all of a sudden she knew exactly what to say.
"Not even if it hurt Arthur Weasley?" she asked indifferently, even though she hated the words as they fell from her mouth.
The atmosphere in the room changed instantly; if he had been a dog, his ears would have pricked up.
"And why would that change my mind?" he asked, just as indifferently.
"Please," Hermione said, wrinkling her nose. "At Christmas last year, Arthur Weasley told me that he couldn't be happier or prouder of the fact that I was becoming part of their family," she announced boldly. Not one word of that was true, but it made her insides squirm guiltily all the same.
Mr Malfoy looked faintly ill. "There was a proposal?"
"Well," Hermione said, her palms moistening, "there was a misunderstanding… Ron gave me a ring for Christmas but it wasn't that kind of ring, and what with Ginny spiking the eggnog with Firewhisky, it all got a little out of hand…" That story, she thought grimly, was very true.
"Merlin, he really is a git, wasn't he?" Mr Malfoy said, and Hermione pursed her lips, trying not to smile. There it was: a moment of solidarity. They were united on the front of trying to annoy at least one member of the Weasley family (although it was a different member for each of them. Hermione chose to ignore this). "And you're absolutely not trying to get him back?"
"I don't want him back," Hermione shrugged. "I just want to hurt him."
He smirked. "Aren't Gryffindors meant to be noble?"
"Aren't Slytherins meant to be callous?" she asked coolly, glancing at the photo of Draco and Narcissa.
His smirk drooped ever so slightly and with a quick twitch of his wand, the photograph twisted so that she could only see the back of the frame.
"No, don't," Hermione blurted, reaching out to turn the photo back but stopping her hand at the last moment so that it just hovered awkwardly on his desk. "It's – it's very sweet." She hesitated, staring firmly at the desk. "And I'm really sorry about what I said the other night. About the parenting, about Draco, about – everything else," she cleared her throat, fighting the urge to squeeze her eyes shut. This was most definitely overkill.
Mr Malfoy's eyes looked a little less cold. "You really want this, don't you?" he said shrewdly.
There was a knock at the door and before Mr Malfoy could say anything, it opened. Zacharias Smith poked his head in, and instantly looked as though he greatly regretted doing so. Hermione avoided his gaze; she'd had no idea that Smith worked directly for Mr Malfoy.
"Excuse me," said Zacharias hurriedly.
"Smith?" Mr Malfoy said silkily as the young wizard made to duck out. Zacharias hovered, his face apprehensive.
"Yes, sir?" he asked timidly.
"I believe that, the other night, you upset Miss Granger, then proceeded to chastise her for her response. Perhaps an apology is necessary?"
Hermione stared in a mix of awe and embarrassment. One part of her wanted to inform Lucius Malfoy that she didn't need him to fight her battles for her, thank you very much!
The rest of her turned towards Smith, eagerly watching his face turn a splendid beet red.
"Certainly, sir," Zacharias said as smoothly as he could. He looked as though he was not altogether there; perhaps he was picturing his happy place. "Granger, I'm sorry, if I upset you."
"You did upset her," Mr Malfoy said icily, raising his eyebrows, and Hermione focused on biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling. Having a Malfoy on her side was a new development; it was excruciating and yet she never wanted it to end. She hoped her expression seemed sympathetic as Zacharias was now a rather impressive shade of vermillion.
"Of course, sir," Zacharias said. "I'm so sorry, Granger, for upsetting you."
"I accept your apology, Zacharias," Hermione said lightly. Her hand, which had been resting on the desk next to the photo of Draco and Narcissa, was suddenly covered by a warm, comforting weight, and she realised that Lucius Malfoy had placed his hand atop of hers.
"Better, darling?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow at her, his grey eyes positively shining.
Hermione turned back to Zacharias, wondering if the triumphant smile on her face might turn him as maroon as one of Ron's jumpers.