August 19, 2002
Hermione raised her chin as she looked down at the paper Malfoy had pushed across the desk. She glanced up at him, but there wasn't a single crack in his blank expression. His eyes remained focused on her, though, and she could practically feel the plans spinning together in his mind.
"So if I sign this contract for another three months, you'll give me this week, along with another two weeks of holiday time during the length of the contract?"
"Yes."
"And you'll allow me to brew potions for my personal use, with all the access I have in the laboratories professionally?"
His left eye twitched. She knew he wasn't particularly happy with that one, and she was going to have to be careful of his snooping about. "As long as it adheres to the stipulations in the contract."
"Fine." She picked the quill up from the desk, and reached to dip it in the inkwell. "Then I'll stay."
September 10, 2002
Malfoy looked down his nose at her before raising his eyes above her head and to the line they were waiting in. "I'm not that surprised to find you here."
"Because you're stalking me."
"I'm Draco Malfoy - people stalk me," he drawled, and she snorted at him. "Furthermore, I'd rather be sifting through financial loss documents than trailing after you." His eyes dropped back to her. "To clarify, I consider that equivalent to stabbing myself."
"Aw, I'm sure there's plenty of people who would like to stab you so you don't have to do it yourself. We all know you'd rather someone else do anything that's your responsibility."
His eyebrows hiked, but his look seemed too annoyed for him to be that surprised. "Are you aware that I built a multimillion Galleon company by myself, and that you happen to work there...as my employee?"
"No, I was completely unaware of that, actually," she said, looking out the window and to the greyness on grey outside. "I was too busy staring at all the pretty colors around me. And don't think too highly of yourself, Malfoy. I'm freelance - I'm my own boss."
"No, it just means you have multiple bosses. Though if you're interested in only having one, it can be arranged."
"And tie myself to you forever?" she asked, glancing back to see the man behind the counter already preparing her coffee. "What was that thing you said before? About stabbing yourself?"
She was caught off-guard by the twitching of his lips rather than a glare, and she turned to face the counter instead. She had realized last week that a smiling Malfoy was...disturbing.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, pointing to the muffin she wanted behind the glass case.
Spotting Malfoy in the Muggle world was something she hadn't experienced before, so it was strange for him to be here, at her favorite stop before work. Or maybe that was the point, and he didn't want anyone bothering him in the morning. One little angry trip to his office at 7am two weeks ago had taught her that.
"Getting coffee," he said slowly, and she glared at the counter. "I hadn't realized you frequented this shop."
"I don't frequent it." In case he thought about annoying her every morning.
"So the man working here just assumed how you like your coffee, and the woman who can never shut up decided not to say anything about it?"
"Who can never... And I'm unprofessional this morning?"
He smirked at her. "What is it that you said to me last week when you were
threatening to drown me in a puddle? Oh, yes - we're not in the building yet."
December 23, 2002
"What a lovely gift," Hermione said. "A shampoo so strong, it will get the critters out of the hair of a wild animal. I see they test on animals, too. How brilliant."
"I'm glad you'll find it useful, then. However, you've truly outdone yourself with this bottle of Gitbegone Solution. Cure all your git-ish ways with a tablespoon a day. Fascinating."
Hermione turned the bottle in her hand, and the grin took shape despite how hard she was trying to suppress it. "Merry Christmas, Draco. Malfoy."
He smiled, and then tried to smother it down as he placed her gift on his desk. "Merry Christmas, Hermione. Granger."
January 3, 2003
Hermione wrung her hands on top of her lap as Draco stared back at her. She wanted to look away from the way his gaze was penetrating through her skull, but she was trapped in it, and part of her wondered if he had spelled her.
"How long do you need?"
"It's important that I'm there for the entire process, which is, that is, it's a process of a personal issue that-"
"Granger," he said, and she looked up from his chin. "How long?"
"Two weeks," she breathed. "I know it's all that's left of my holiday time, but it's-" "Fine."
Her mouth moved over words and letters soundlessly. If her mind had been a bit clearer, she might have been suspicious that he didn't take the opportunity to tease her about it. He stared back at her as blankly as a new steel building, however, except she saw nothing of her frenzied state reflected.
"Fine?"
"Yes. You're leaving today?"
"Uh, yes."
He nodded. That was it. Just nodded.
"You remember," she whispered. "You didn't say anything after the staff party in November, and I thought you had too much champagne, but..."
A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he didn't say anything. She didn't know if she should feel horrified or be ignorant, but all she could wonder was why he gave a toss about it.
"Owl me if you're going to be longer than the two weeks. I'll have to add on any extra time as an extension of your contract."
"Of course, yes. Yes, that's... Okay."
He nodded again, and her knees were wobbly when she stood.
February 18, 2003
Hungarian Horntail blood - 2 jars, Romanian Longhorn blood - 1 jar, Welsh Green Dragon eggs - five, Ukrainian Ironbelly scales - 64/1 jar.
"Where is the common ingredients sheet?" Hermione asked, rubbing her fingers along her quill as she read down the list of ingredients.
"The bottom folder," Draco murmured, reading over her proposal.
"We're going to need a lot of those," she muttered, pulling the folder out.
"I know you won't be satisfied until you try every angle to bankrupt me."
"Psh. One month I sent the laboratory budget into the red, and now I'm always after you. You think everyone's after you."
She glanced up, and found him looking back at her. "Aren't you?"
Her ears heated up for some unfathomable reason, and she quickly looked back at the lists in front of her. "Of course not. If I see you, I do my best to run in the other direction."
"Oh, is that why I always find you lurking about me?"
"What?" She huffed. "I do not lurk, and certainly not around you. You're the one who has overtaken my favorite coffee shop-"
"The coffee is excellent."
"-laboratories, and I saw you-"
"Checking in on an employee, and the clothing shop was purely coincidental. You're the one who has stalked me to my favorite restaurant-"
"That is not your favorite restaurant! They serve food where the grease leaks through the paper they put over the plates!"
"-in Wiltshire, where you know I live, and then attempted to look shocked."
"That was not my attempted shocked face. That was my realization-of-horrors face."
He looked like he'd sooner believe it was her pained face from an unseen meteor colliding with her back. "If you're so horrified by my presence, then why do you still frequent the coffee shop?"
There were several other more convincing things he could have brought up. Like why she had taken to drinking her morning coffee with him, or invited him to a pub last week, or rushed into his office to tell him when a potion worked, instead of filing a notice with his secretary like the others did. He could have asked why she had taken to sitting with him at company events, or discussing potion possibilities, or even why she was sitting with him now. He could have brought up a lot of things, and she wondered why he didn't. And part of her wondered if he wasn't willing to make her feel uncomfortable enough about it to stop doing those things, while a larger part of her told her she was insane.
"As you've said," she said, shrugging, "the coffee is excellent. Even if I do have to suffer your presence far too early in the morning."
There was a faint curl to his mouth that neared a smirk, and with the look he gave her, it was as if he had said everything she just thought, without saying anything at all. "Speaking of suffering through the presence of others - there's a dinner next Tuesday with a few investors, and you'll be attending."
"Was...that a question? Because, did you hear that right there? It's a little lift to the voice at the end of a sentence, and it's not very difficult to achieve."
He flashed her a glimpse of his annoyance as he turned a page in her proposal. "They have connections within the Japanese and French Ministries, which will prove beneficial to securing certain ingredient sources in the future. I want you to come so they'll be impressed with your intelligence, and charmed by your fumbling with the elves you'll be ordering from."
"That was almost a compliment."
"I know. I grew nervous you would take it the wrong way and assume I thought highly of you."
She rolled her eyes. "At least you grew nervous. I see the man of steel is flexible." "If you heat anything up enough, it's bound to bend to pressure."
"Is that the path to your destruction that I've been looking for? Keep Malfoy hot, and..." She looked up as she shut a folder, wondering if he just took that how it sounded, and saw him leveling a steady look back at her.
She blew out a slow breath, her cheeks heating up as she appeared very, very busy with an order form listing several different parts of a Graphorn's body.
"I still didn't hear you ask," she said, wishing she could somehow hide her face without him noticing that she was doing it on purpose.
"If it goes well, it'll turn out beneficial for both of us. It's not a difficult decision."
She bit her lip, flipping over a page. "Fine." Anything to get him to stop staring at her. "But we really need to work on that voice lifting. You can't just demand things, and always expect to get them."
"I always get what I want, Granger. Eventually."
July 9, 2003
"Draco, it's not polite to stare."
"That doesn't seem to stop you from staring at me."
"I do not stare at you. I give you dirty looks that last a long time."
His lips twitched as he turned his attention to her, and she had a feeling he wasn't speaking because whatever he thought wasn't fit for public. "I don't understand how he's picking up scoops of rice. I can't get more than five at a time."
"Maybe you shouldn't order rice at the dinner tomorrow, then." "And if they serve it anyway?"
"Politely pass on it, or you'll never open a division in this country."
His lips pressed into a line as he looked up at her from his rice bowl. "It's important to prove we understand and respect their culture." He narrowed his eyes at her hand. "You're rather good at it for someone who ate with a fork last time we had takeaway."
"Yes," Hermione whispered, leaning towards him. "I've been practicing since then. It's all a conspiracy to make you look like an idiot."
"I knew it," he said accusingly, shaking his head at her. "Well, this relationship is over. It only worked when I was smarter than you."
She laughed, and when he raised his eyebrow, she laughed harder. He tapped a chopstick against the table, glaring at her.
"That's not funny."
"It's very funny. I suppose it never worked, really."
"We were unfortunately done in by chopsticks. I have to say, I never saw it coming. I'd applaud you, but I'm busy with my plots for revenge."
She smiled, shaking her head as she held up the chopsticks. "I actually learned how to use them when I was a child"-he glared harder, and laughter bubbled up in her chest again-"not that it's not difficult for some adults to learn, mind you. But my father and I used to talk with them at dinner."
"...Talk with your chopsticks?"
"Uh-huh. See, just..." She held the ends towards him, and clicked them in time with her words. "My name is Arnold, and I enjoy picking things up with my mouth."
He stared at the chopsticks until she slowly lowered them to the table, and then gave her an incredulous look as his lips spread into a grin. He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, looked right and left, and then nodded slowly. "I think we're going to make it after all - the scales of intelligence are once more tipped in my favor."
December 1, 2003
Hermione didn't know if she should scream or sob as she slammed the letter onto Draco's desk, but she felt like doing both at once, and for a long enough time that she collapsed into a month-long sleep after.
Draco looked at her like a wolf who had just spotted another near his prey, and he was estimating factors for if he should battle or concede. He drew the paper back to him slowly, making sure she wasn't about to attack him before he dared to look away from her. She watched him study the letter, her hands shaking, but his expression told her nothing.
"I can't say I'm upset," he finally said, and Hermione nearly launched herself at him.
"Obviously," she hissed, the anger so livid in her blood that she couldn't hear well past the pounding of it in her eardrums.
His tongue darted out to lick his lips, and he sighed heavily as he sat back in his chair. He propped his elbows on the armrests, and twisted a quill between his fingers. He was appraising her, but his survival instincts must have took as much damage as his brain somewhere along the way, because he wasn't moving for the exit.
"I'll look for someone to retrieve the plant-"
"I can't believe you've done this," she whispered, her voice tight with her throat all clogged up. Betrayal. It was crushing against her chest like a boulder pinning her to the spot where she stood.
Draco's eyebrows shot up, and he rocked forward in his chair. "What? You're blaming me?"
"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" she shouted. "I saw you leaving Winchester's office yesterday! I was-"
"I haven't seen Winchester since you filed that bloody request! I-"
"That's shit, Draco! I saw you there when I went to check on the status of the request, don't lie to me!"
"I wasn't there!" he yelled, pushing to his feet.
"So I just imagined it? Don't treat me like I'm an idiot, I-" Hermione paused as she caught sight of the back of his hand, her teeth still bared. She could have sworn she had seen bruises on his hand yesterday, and even tried to catch up to him to ask what had happened in the office.
"As much as I don't want you to go, I'd never pull my contacts to get the request denied. If you saw me, then you're fucking delusional."
"Then how do you also explain the person who told me it was you who asked Winchester to deny the request? You're not the only one with Ministry con-"
"Who told you that? Weasley? Weasley? Because that's-" "It wasn't Ron!"
"I don't give a shit who it was, because they were lying th-" "Just tell me the truth! Face what you've done! Tell me why
"If you saw me there, and someone is claiming that I'm to blame for this, than it was Polyjuice or a complete fuck-up, because it wasn't me!" he shouted.
She shook her head, the pain in her chest pricking at the back of her eyes as they watered. "I'm done," she told him, her voice thick.
She spun, walking as quickly as she could for the door without falling into a run. She heard Draco moving behind her, but she ignored it. She swore she was seconds away from exploding into a fragmented mess, and she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her like that.
"Hermione."
She pulled open the door, but it ripped out of her grip, slamming shut again. She pulled her wand as he started a locking spell, and she flicked it in three jerks, knocking the door loose from the hinges. She grabbed the handle, and yelled through her teeth as she yanked the door back, the wood tilting before slamming against the floor.
"Hermione!"
She stepped over the door, through the doorway, and out of his life.
December 6, 2003
Hermione crossed her arms a little tighter as she listened to Draco's footsteps emerge from the hall, and heard the house-elf who informed him pop to a different room. She pressed her lips together to try and stop the trembling of her chin; she was sick of crying.
Hermione forced down a swallow, and raised her chin as Draco came to a stop a few steps from her. He was cold and rigid, and her chin was wobbling again.
"I'm sorry."
Nothing. Not even a splinter of understanding within the intensity of his gaze.
"I should have known. But I saw you leave that office, Draco, and I hadn't told anyone else about the request. No one. And I knew you didn't really want me to go, and I also know that you're not a man who handles no well."
"I'm also a man who has gone to great lengths for the sake of his family. Few know that as well as you. I told you I understood."
She nodded, curling her hands into fists under her arms. "I know. But I saw you, and I was told it was you, and you were the only one who knew. What was I to think?"
"I was obviously not the only one to know."
"You're the only one I told."
His jaw clenched three, four times. "Are you blaming me for telling-"
"No! I'm not- No. It could have been someone who saw it, or... I don't know." She shook her head, trying to swallow again, and felt the brim of wetness in her eyes. "I can't lose you as well."
Something flashed across his features, but it was too quick for her to grab hold of. "You weren't very concerned over it a few days ago."
"Of course I was concerned over it, of course I didn't want to. At all. I don't want to leave you, Draco, I don't want to lose you. But if you had done this to me... God.
I'd have preferred you cheating on me. You know how much this all means to me. You know every bit of it."
He watched her as she spun her arms out for balance on the ledge of some impossible feeling that was taking shape in her chest, heavy and all sharp edges. It was preventing her from getting a solid breath, and it felt like everything was burning.
"I suppose you know I convinced Winchester to review the request again. I still don't think he believes it wasn't me in the first place. Especially after you left his office filled with hellish fury, and announced your intent to storm mine."
"I do," she whispered, looking up at him. "I believe it wasn't you."
He looked at her for several uneven beats of her heart. "I'm only going tell you once - don't ever do that to me again." He lifted a brow. "And you owe me a new door."
He held out his hand, but she ignored it, flying into his arms instead.