Hermione sat primly in her seat in the conference room, her favorite quill in hand ready to jot down her detailed notes. She nodded politely to various colleagues as the rest of the department heads filed in and filled in the spaces around the large wood table.

Then at 11:00 on the dot, like he did every single month, Draco Malfoy strode confidently into the room and took his place at the front. He was precisely punctual every meeting, a quality she admired about the adult version of him. He never bothered with idle chit chat at the outset of his presentation, just quelled the room with an expectant look and launched into his report.

Today's topic was the latest experiments of Malfoy's department on the efficacy of long-term Polyjuice Potion. Hermione knew this had been a goal of the Ministry's Potions Department for quite some time. According to Malfoy, they'd now succeeded in having the dose last for three hours as opposed to the standard one hour. This was a remarkable achievement and Hermione knew the Auror Office in particular would be keen for this potion to work for their undercover investigations.

Hermione tuned out on the content of Malfoy's presentation. Being intimately acquainted with how Polyjuice worked, she didn't need to focus on the particulars and could instead allow her mind to wander. And wander it did.

Her eyes roamed up and down Malfoy's tall, lean form. He wore his usual all black ensemble today, his flowing robes open in the front, long frock buttoned to the base of his neck. So many buttons, she thought absently. The one exception to the monochromatic scheme was wrapped around his throat: a white neck kerchief instead of a standard cravat.

Hermione sighed internally and let the pleasant sound of his voice wash over her. If she weren't in a room full of people she'd probably be gnawing on the end of her quill. As it was, she was having enough trouble not audibly sighing as she openly ogled his handsome features. She couldn't pinpoint exactly when this silly infatuation of hers had started, and Hermione wondered idly just how long it would last. Hoping it was just a passing fancy, she vowed to keep it to herself forever. Merlin, what was she even thinking? He'd never look twice at her, not to mention all the complicated history between them.

But still… that deep timbre of his voice, the aristocratic air he gave to his articulation, the way his lips formed around the correct pronunciation of the Latin terms… there was nothing wrong with appreciating an attractive male was there? It was harmless, absolutely harmless.

When he ran his hand carelessly through his platinum hair, Hermione bit down on her bottom lip so hard it was a miracle her teeth didn't break the skin as she watched the locks fall flawlessly back into place. Gods, she was pathetic. She shook her head slightly to clear her thoughts as Malfoy wrapped up.

"Thank you for your time. Does anyone have any questions?"

Hermione's hand immediately shot into the air along with a half dozen others. She made sure to ask a question each month if only to have that silvery gaze locked on her for a half-second of time.

"Kareem?"

Kareem asked a rather inane question and Hermione held back a scoff. Draco answered it easily.

"Serena?"

Serena asked a question that Draco had answered not two minutes into his original speech, seriously Serena?

"Wolfgang?"

Wolfgang asked a ridiculous question about the horrible impact this new and improved Polyjuice could have should it ever reach the black market. Hermione repressed a snort with difficulty. The old codger couldn't let a meeting go by without some sort of paranoid, hare-brained conspiracy theory making itself known.

And on and on and on it went: Hermione silently questioning the mental faculties of her contemporaries at the Ministry as they each took a turn asking patently stupid questions. Honestly, did no one pay attention? Tristan, Irina, Francisco, Marigold, Elmer, and on and on as Hermione wondered how the likes of Draco Malfoy could stand to answer such blatant idiocy with a commendably patient air.

When Delia was called upon and had the gall to ask what the standard length of time had been for normal Polyjuice, Hermione almost throttled the woman. The simpering twit asked her question in undisguised, breathless adoration and Hermione indulged in an eye roll. Delia was a married woman, for Merlin's sake, not that she let anyone in the immediate vicinity ever forget that fact. She was the type of woman to somehow work the words "my husband" into every single conversation. Actually, Hermione had no idea what Delia's husband was called because she was so intent on referring to him by his marital status only.

"Does that answer your question Delia?"

"Oh yes, thank you for being so thorough, Draco," Delia praised him for slowly and methodically providing the answer to a question that a Hogwarts Second Year would know. Too busy ogling Malfoy to pay attention, the silly cow, Hermione thought uncharitably then internally winced. Isn't that exactly what she did each month? When had she become such a hypocrite?

"Any other questions?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air and she watched Draco's eyes rove around the table before landing on her, the sole person left with a query. She was sure it was all in her mind, but time seemed to slow and then stop as Draco locked gazes with her. His intense eyes pinned her to the spot and narrowed as the corner of his mouth lifted infinitesimally; a predator recognizing its prey.

"Hermione."

Her mind went blank.

Not "Granger?"

Not "Granger."

Not even "Hermione?"

Hermione. A declarative. Her first name for the first time off his tongue and it was such a beautiful-sounding non-question. She had to repress a full-body shudder at the very sound she had longed to hear from his mouth.

Perplexingly, the other corner of his mouth lifted just a touch, and Hermione realized several things at once:

She'd taken too long to respond.

Other people in the room were looking around at her in mild concern.

Her knickers were drenched.

She'd quite forgotten her question.

"I… ummm… I… actually I've just realized that you sufficiently answered my question when you responded to Wolfgang. My apologies," she offered weakly.

Draco stared at her in mild bemusement for a beat longer. "Well, if that's all, then thank you for your time today."

Hermione released a sigh of relief as normal chatter resumed around her and her colleagues busied themselves with filing out of the conference room. Good lord, what was wrong with her?

"Hermione," a gentle voice called and her head snapped up at being addressed for a second time by the object of her rather distracting fantasies.

Hermione stood on shaky legs and gathered her notes and quill so as to have something to do with her hands. "Yes Malfoy?"

"Do you have a minute?" he asked politely and beckoned her over.

Oh, I have all the time in the world and then some.

"Of course, if it really is a minute," she said haughtily, trying to regain some semblance of control.

She approached him cautiously and stopped a few feet away, leaning back slightly to meet his gaze. Was he always this much taller than her?

"I wasn't aware you shared Wolfgang's concerns about black market thievery," he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Bugger, he'd called her out. Well Hermione wasn't going to take this lying down.

"It's less about the potion itself, and more that I think some of the ingredients have the potential to affect my work. As you know, lacewing flies and boomslang skin, for example—"

"I didn't realize the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures would need to be concerned with such trifling things as lacewing flies." He drawled and raised an eyebrow.

"Well I… yes, well, as Head of my department it's my duty to keep abreast of all issues involving creatures big and er, small," she lied.

"I see," he smirked, causing Hermione to grip her notes all the tighter. "I'm curious to know which other… actually," he frowned and checked an ornate wristwatch. "I do believe another group requires this conference room shortly. Could we continue this discussion, perhaps in your office? You work on this floor, yes?"

"I umm… Yes, I do, but umm…"

"Excellent, lead the way," he said and gallantly gestured for her to leave first.

The entire short walk to Hermione's office, she fought the urge to pinch herself. What exactly was happening to her right now? First he calls her by her given name and now he's so interested in her thoughts on lacewing flies of all things that he wants to extend their discussion?

As they entered her office, Hermione gestured to the chair in front of her desk, praising the heavens that she'd left her office in a neat state. She sat on the edge of her seat and tried to adopt a relaxed mien.

Malfoy closed the door behind him and Hermione's throat went dry at the thought of being in a confined space, alone, with the object of her lecherous thoughts.

"Merlin, it's bloody boiling in here!" he groused as he threw himself into the chair opposite her. "What do you keep it at, the center of the Earth's crust?"

Hermione huffed and crossed her arms. "If you're so bothered by the precise temperature of my office, feel free to prop the door open."

Malfoy waved her suggestion away with an elegant hand. "Nah, I can manage."

That same hand went to the top buttons of his frock and Hermione couldn't look away as he flicked one, two, three buttons open and tugged at his kerchief. He removed the silken piece of fabric, exposing a smooth expanse of pale flesh, and Hermione's arms unfolded to grip the edges of her desk. She'd indulged in several graphic fantasies in the privacy of her bedroom involving Malfoy using that little scrap of silk to bind her hands above her head. To see it now, up close and personal, twisting in his grip, was an exquisite form of torture. Malfoy took his sweet time, carefully folding the delicate piece and tucking it neatly into his inner breast pocket.

Hermione envisioned pressing her lips to the newly revealed skin of the column of Malfoy's throat. She felt a blush staining her cheeks and gave a small cough as she shuffled random documents on her desk.

"Right, well if you're quite comfortable, perhaps we can return to discussing—?"

"Is that from the first law you passed?" Malfoy interrupted her and pointed to a framed piece of parchment on her wall.

"Oh, erm, yes it is."

"Brilliant piece of legislation. Even if I disagree with it at its core, I can admit your arguments were impeccable."

Hermione sputtered in a mix of surprise and indignation. "You've read it? And what do you mean you disagree with it at its core?"

Malfoy gave an indifferent shrug of his shoulders. "No offense meant, I just believe that bowtruckles can look after themselves all right."

"Then perhaps you can explain to me why their numbers were dwindling at an exponential rate before my law went into effect?"

"No need to explain, their dwindling population was an established fact. I think your regulations against harvesting wand wood trees were too stringent and overreaching."

"Is that so?" Hermione fumed. "For your information, the rate at which wizards were cutting down those trees did not match the demand for wands! The bowtruckles were being unnecessarily forced out of their own habitats!"

"Ah, but you forget how adaptable and vicious those little blighters can be. Relocation and establishment of a preserve would have benefited everyone, not just the bowtruckles."

"Well luckily for me, the Wizengamot were convinced of my arguments, which as you admitted earlier, were impeccable, and furthermore—!"

Hermione was cut off by a long, pale finger held up in front of her face. Oh, the nerve of him!

"Apologies, but I need to check something," he shook the sleeve of his robe back to glance at his watch. He stood swiftly and offered her a small smile that made her stomach flip.

"Unfortunately I have another appointment shortly which means I will have to delay hearing what was sure to be a well-reasoned and impassioned rebuttal to my point."

Hermione smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, I got rather carried away."

Malfoy waved her apology away. "I expect nothing less from you. In fact, I'd very much like to hear the rest of your verbal dressing-down of my pragmatic point-of-view. Are you free this evening?"

I am free the rest of the year and beyond if this question is going where I desperately hope it's going.

"As it happens, I do find myself with a free evening ahead of me," she said smoothly.

"Would you care to dismantle my argument over dinner?"

He paired his casual request with a smile so genuine that Hermione was certain her knickers had melted off of her body.

"Yes," she replied, trying not to sound too eager. "Did you have a place in mind or—?"

"Any objection to Le Diplomat?"

She'd kept her composure until now, but hearing Draco Malfoy offer to take her to dinner to the very restaurant she'd been pining after for months was too much and her jaw dropped. It was supposed to be the finest in French cuisine this side of the Channel but Hermione had yet to find a worthy enough excuse to drop such a significant amount of Galleons on one meal. Never mind that all her friends had less than refined palates (seriously, takeaway from the Leaky is not a luxury, Harry), Hermione was also certain that this type of restaurant required formalwear, another strike against it in her friend group.

"You'll be able to get a table there? Tonight? On such short notice?"

"Of course, it's me," he replied smugly.

"Ah yes, you always did love throwing your surname around."

Rather than bristling at her jab, he playfully scoffed. "My surname? Please, I'll be riding your coattails this evening. If I tell them I'm dining with Hermione Granger, they'd probably lose the Minister's reservation if I asked."

Hermione felt her face turn red again. "Oh, I think you're rather overblowing my status."

"I'm not, but if that doesn't work, I'm not above claiming that I'm actually taking Potter on this date."

Hermione chuckled nervously. Date? Date. He'd said the word "date."

"Would you prefer to meet at the restaurant? How does 7 sound?"

"7 is perfect," she replied breathlessly.

"All right then. See you tonight, Hermione." He flashed her one last charming grin before taking his leave. Once the door had clicked gently shut behind him, Hermione sank into her desk chair and fanned her face. Maybe Malfoy had a point, it was quite hot in here, wasn't it?

Giddy with thoughts of her dinner plans, Hermione indulged the urge to tell someone about what had transpired today. She threw some Floo powder into her office grate, stuck her head in and called for Ginny.

"Ginny! You are not going to believe what just happened!"

"Hello to you too, I see someone's feeling better! Wait, why are you in your office? I thought you skived off today, like me!"

"No, I had an important meeting I couldn't miss. Thanks again for the potions and for seeing me home safely last night."

Ginny waved off her gratitude. "You would have done the same and more for me, I'm sure. Do you uhh… by chance remember anything?"

"Not a thing after my third mead, but listen Ginny… I may or may not have a dinner date tonight at Le Diplomat!"

To her confusion, Ginny did not squeal in delight. Instead, she squinted at Hermione and looked skeptical.

"That's the snooty place you're always harping on about right? French, isn't it?"

"It is not snooty, Ginny, but yes, it is French."

"I thought so. And your fancy mystery date is?"

Hermione couldn't help the blush that rose to her cheeks. "You won't believe this, but it's Malfoy. He asked me in my office after his monthly report."

Ginny blanched. "Your favorite day of the month? That was today? And he asked you out afterward?"

"Yes, it was funny, honestly. He asked me to stay after so we could discuss something, but then we had to move the chat to my office. Then, of course he said something rude about my bowtruckle legislation and I just could not let it go and he—"

"Let me guess, he offered to continue the discussion over dinner?"

Hermione stared back at her friend. "Erm, yes. Oh, but I have to go now, I'm meant to meet Harry and give my statement!"

"Hermione, wait, there's something you need to know, it's about—"

"Later, Gin, I'm running late as it is! I'll speak to you tomorrow!"

Hermione disconnected from the Floo, puzzled about Ginny's odd behavior towards the end of the call. Shrugging it off, she made her way over to Harry's office in the back of the Auror Department. As she went to knock on his door, it opened and a familiar figure strode out, colliding with her.

"Oh! Sorry Malfoy!"

To her surprise, he didn't seem annoyed at her clumsiness, and instead grinned down at her.

"My, my, seeing you twice in one day? Perhaps I should have my tea tested for liquid luck."

Was he… flirting with her? Was this really happening to her right now? How did her work life go from completely devoid of any meaningful interactions with Draco Malfoy to him asking her to dinner and then flirting outrageously with her?

Instead of waiting for what was sure to be a stammered, flustered response from her, Malfoy backed away slowly and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"I'll be seeing you again, I suppose. Oh and the restaurant has a dress code, so make sure to," his eyes raked up and down her entire frame, "dress to impress." He offered a half-smirk and turned down the hall.

"…Hermione? Hermione!"

"Huh? What? Oh, hi Harry!"

Harry regarded her with concern. "All right there? I called your name a few times but you looked sort of frozen and your mouth was hanging open. You're feeling all right after last night, yeah?"

Hermione shook her head, suddenly remembering why she'd come to visit Harry in the first place.

"Oh! I'm fine! Just came to give my official statement and see if you had any leads."

Harry, as it turned out, did not have any new leads. Whoever had spiked the mead last night was quite careful, which worried him.

"I'm just glad it was Babbling Beverage and not something more sinister," Harry sighed.

"I'm sure you'll catch a break soon. Looks like you still have a good amount of suspects to sort through," she gestured to the stack of parchment on his desk. "I'll leave you to it. What was Malfoy doing in your office?"

"Oh, he was there last night too, and lucky for him, he never got dosed. He was actually quite helpful since he was sober during the time of the incident he was able to give me some more names of people he recognized."

"Malfoy was there last night?" she asked in a high-pitched voice. Oh please, please, tell me Ginny got me out of there before I said some embarrassing nonsense.

"Erm, yeah, he didn't stay long and I was able to clear him last night anyway. Are you sure you're all right?"

Hermione nodded and left Harry to his looming pile of witness statements and suspect lists. She tried to recall if she'd seen Malfoy at all before her memory lapse, but her mind came up short. Shaking the niggling doubts away, she resolved to focus on finishing the rest of her own paperwork before she could knock off for the day. She had a date to prepare for, after all.

A/N: Chapter 3/3 will be posted in the next few days. Thanks for reading!