Author Note: This chapter includes a direct line from the Ugly Truth. I am not profiting off this piece of fiction in any way; the dialogue is the sole property of Sony/Columbia Pictures. Basically, I'm just having fun and am too poor to sue lol (so please don't).

Hermione prided herself on her work ethic. She showed up early, often stayed late, and did her best to make sure everything worked out exactly the way it was supposed to. Planners were her best friend, and checklists made her feel like she had everything together even when she didn't.

So when Malfoy barged in Friday morning after days of radio silence and upended her whole schedule, Hermione had to resist the urge to pull her hair out.

He'd done his hair. How utterly ridiculous of her to note, but she couldn't help but notice that he'd swept the wispy front bits of it that usually fell into his eyes into a neat coiffe, not a hair out of place. He still sported his trademark v-neck and relaxed trousers, but he'd tucked the shirt's hem in and donned a belt. He'd traded his trainers for a nice pair of dragonhide boots.

It felt wrong to linger on his appearance, but even she could admit that he looked good.

"C'mon, Granger. I've got you sprung from your office for the day." He crooked his finger at her as he swaggered towards her desk. A snap of his fingers had her coat flying across the room. When it landed in his hands, he shook it open, holding it aloft as though he would help her into it.

That was… suspicious. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Malfoy?" She tapped the stack of parchment in front of her. "This has to be copyread before the end of the day; there's no way I'll make it out of here before six."

He shook his head again. "Nope, you're coming with me." Behind him, the door swung open; Daphne breezed into the room, a wide smile on her face. "She'll be taking care of that."

Hermione's jaw popped open, staring at them in disbelief as they shared a conspiratorial wink. "Daphne, what are you—"

But the other girl sidled up beside her, gently nudging her away with a bump of her hip. "You work too hard; I'm just trying to take a little bit of the load off your plate."

Her hands coiled into petulant fists at her side, lips pulling simultaneously into a pout. "Daph, I don't want anything off my plate. I'm happy having a full schedule; you know that."

On a sigh, Daphne directed a glance at Malfoy. "If you'll excuse us?" The other woman grabbed her by the shoulders, steering her towards the window of her office. "Hermione, all you do is work. You never have fun; you come to work, and you go home."

Indignation bristled up Hermione's spine. "That's not true! I also—"

"Spend time with your cat? Interview individuals for the column?" Daphne's brows pulled into a sympathetic pinch. "Take a chance on what Malfoy is offering you. He's really pretty decent."

Scoffing, Hermione shrugged Daphne's hands off her shoulders. "I'll believe it when I see it."

Her friend smiled softly up at her. "And you won't see it unless you give him a chance." She canted her head at Draco. "Look at him. He's here, in your office, making an effort to help you. He doesn't have to give us anything; he didn't have to offer to step in to save Witch Weekly, especially not after you lambasted him in the conference room." The accusation in her tone stung, and Hermione flinched under it. "Give him a chance. He might surprise you."

Following her gaze, Hermione studied Malfoy. He stood staring at her framed awards adorning the far wall, her coat folded carefully over his arm. The Unbreakable Vow tingled on her arm, an uncomfortably warm sensation that he must have felt too, judging by the way he absently rubbed at his wrist. Sighing, Hermione turned back to her friend. "Alright. But he'd better be on his best behaviour."

Daphne lit up, grabbing her by the hand, and pulled her towards Malfoy. "Alright then, Draco, it's all arranged. You take Hermione to do whatever it is you need, and I'll work on the next issue." Daphne paused by the desk, scooping up a stack of papers and eyeing it critically. "If you need me, I'll be in my office buried under this mountain of papers with my nose stuck in the style guide." With that, Daphne was gone, the door falling shut behind her.

Malfoy perked up instantaneously, once more holding Hermione's coat aloft before her. "I knew you'd come around, Granger."

Begrudgingly, Hermione stepped forward, sliding her right arm into its corresponding sleeve. She turned, dipping low to settle comfortably into the warmth of the peacoat, but Malfoy shifted. His hand that held the other shoulder up for her brushed across the nape of her neck. Gooseflesh sprang to life in the wake of the ghost of a touch, and they froze.

His breath gusted over her shoulder, the baby hairs on the back of her neck rising to attention. Nerves raced down her spine and grabbed a fistful of her stomach, and she swallowed hard as her heart flip-flopped. Slowly, she looked up from beneath her lashes, breath catching in her throat as Malfoy's eyes traced the lines of her cheekbones and jaw, following along her throat until it disappeared into her blouse and then his eyes flashed back up to hers, twinkling.

"Shall we?"

The rough baritone of his voice, slightly deeper and more alluring than it already was, jolted her from her stupor. "Right," she scoffed, shaking off whatever that look in his eyes made her feel. Maybe if she refused to acknowledge it, the feeling would die off on its own. "Since you're bound and determined to make today as unproductive for me as possible, we may as well get started."

"Good." He held his arm out, and she begrudgingly slipped hers into it. With a charming smile, Malfoy pulled her towards the door.

When they exited the office, Dennis Creevey waved from his cubicle, shouting something to Draco about getting a photo pass for an event to Parkinson Fashion, but the wizard didn't stop. He pulled her to the lift as he summoned his own coat, shrugging it on while they waited.

She settled beside him at the counter in the Leaky Cauldron, running her fingers over the rim of her drink. "So what are we doing here?"

Malfoy took a generous drink of his Firewhisky, sighing as he settled it back on the countertop. "We're meeting someone."

"Oh." She hadn't expected that. Cradling her own glass in her fingertips, Hermione let her gaze travel over the patrons. It was rather empty so early in the day, even for a Friday. "Who?"

Her shoulder itched, an almost physical presence where she could feel his gaze fall on her. He leaned into her, invading her space. "An old friend." She turned back to him, eyeing the way he sipped his drink delicately. After a moment, he continued. "Rule number two, Granger. Laugh at whatever he says. Even if it's not funny."

A disbelieving laugh welled up in her almost immediately, eyeing the way his mouth pulled into a serious, flat line. "You're kidding, right?" When he didn't respond, she set her glass back on the counter. "You can't be serious. I'm just supposed to laugh like a… like a floozy who wants to get laid?"

Malfoy canted his head to the side. "Well, you do want to get laid—"

"Hey!" she retorted.

"But I wouldn't call you a floozy. Besides—" he drawled, running a condescending finger along the underside of her jaw. "Calling another woman a floozy for wanting to have consensual sex isn't very Modern Witch of you, is it?"

She sucked her teeth before granting him a tight smile. Why was the bugger always so smug when he was right? With a haughty tilt of her jaw, she refused to answer him; she'd be damned if she was going to give him a single centimetre.

He slid off his stool, turning to face the open floorplan of the bar and leaning his elbows back on the countertop. "You're stiff, Granger. You walk around with a stick up your arse and have to be right about everything all the time."

Sure enough, her shoulders tightened defensively and her jaw popped open, immediately losing the defiant air she'd summoned. "I do not!"

He tsked, a grimace twisting his lips. "You do. I can count on one hand the number of times I've heard a genuine laugh from you in the last week. Merlin, I could probably count on one finger how many times I've heard you laugh and mean it."

She frowned, thinking over the last few days. A sinking feeling in her chest told her that he was right. Deflating, she glanced up at him. "I'm just… stressed is all. Work is a lot, and I want to make sure Witch Weekly is good. I don't want to lose it."

"I understand that." He reached for his glass, taking another generous drink before continuing. "But it isn't your whole life. Or it shouldn't be." When he nudged her shoulder with his, it was almost friendly. "You're a catch, Granger, but no one wants to be around a Negative Nelly all the time. Lighten up. Laugh a little bit. Have some fun." A mischievous grin met her gaze when she looked up at him. "I promise it won't kill you."

And despite herself, she chuckled a little, the tension falling away from her shoulders. "Alright, I'll give it a go."

Malfoy chuffed her shoulder again, smiling down at her. "See, I told you it wasn't that hard!" Then he cocked his head, smiling over his shoulder. "And we have company."

Hermione wasn't sure who to expect when she turned on the stool, but her jaw nearly fell to the floor when Blaise Zabini strolled up, arm thrown over Ginny Weasley's shoulder. "Ginny?"

The redhead cracked a smile at her, sidling up to the bar and ordering a drink as she wrapped one arm around Hermione in a hug. "Hey, 'Mione. It's been too long."

Blinking owlishly at her friend's sister, Hermione struggled to find words. Finally, she settled on, "You're dating Zabini?"

Ginny lifted a shoulder as she accepted her drink and threw a handful of coins on the counter. "Dating is a strong word."

Eyebrows raised, Hermione stared at the other witch. "And what would be the accurate phrasing?"

Ginny opened her mouth to answer, but suddenly Zabini was crowding between them, settling his elbow on the bar as he appraised her. "You're a 'Modern Witch', Granger. Surely you've engaged in a casual lay or two in your life." He waggled his eyebrows at her. "You don't have to put a label on it just because you bone."

Despite herself, she huffed out a laugh. He wasn't wrong; she had engaged in a hookup or two in her adult life—she had to let off some steam somehow, and it was generally frowned upon to hex whoever made her mad. An annoying voice nagged in the back of her mind that she'd proved Malfoy right again. "I just don't generally find myself engaging in a midday drink with my casual shag."

Malfoy settled on her other side, his arm sliding comfortably behind her. "See, you're already well on your way with rule number two. What do you say we grab a table?" He unfolded himself from his slouch against the bar, the hand behind her back guiding her with him.

Behind her, Zabini ordered another round followed by a muffled clap and laughter from Ginny. If Hermione didn't know better, she'd say the other man slapped her friend's arse.

Men.

Malfoy guided her deftly through the tables littering the floor, quiet chatter filling the room despite the early hour. Despite how boorish he was, Malfoy's hand stayed at a respective level, and he even waved his wand with a muttered Scourgify to siphon any remaining germs off the surface thought it already looked pristine in the early hour.

The action shouldn't have been as impressive as she found it.

And then a hand was floating in front of her face. "Blaise Zabini, Granger. Thought we ought to reintroduce ourselves after all that troublesome war business." For a moment, he had the decency to look chagrined, but when her hand settled in his, she felt his gaze slide down her body. "Draco really wasn't kidding when he said you grew up."

Hermione braced herself for a crass comment, but Malfoy's gaze had slid past her, settling on a tall, raven-haired witch leaning low over the bar. Long lashes framed her deep brown eyes, the light illuminating them like pools of chocolate. Appreciation settled into every line of Malfoy's face as he tossed a wink in the woman's direction, crooking a finger at the bartender to send a drink sliding down the bar to her.

Jealousy settled deep in Hermione's stomach even as she fought the feeling. They were different people; it was ridiculous to be jealous of another woman because they didn't look the same. And even as Malfoy turned his attention back to her, Hermione was bristling. "What I look like has nothing to do with my ability to land a date or not." She could feel the petulant puckering of her brow even as she took a swig of her drink.

Malfoy tsked, his hand settling behind her again. "Granger, you're a smart girl; surely you understand that looks have to play a role in attraction."

Huffing, she took another, larger sip of her drink. "Sure, if you're into shallow connections and one night stands, then by all means just go for looks." The Firewhisky burned down her throat, and a tiny voice in the back of her mind told her to slow down lest she imbibe too much before they made it back to the office. "I'd rather be able to have an intelligent conversation as well as enjoy the way a person looks."

Blaise's eyes opened comically wide as he pointed at her. "Ah! But you admit that you have to be somewhat physically attracted to him."

Malfoy's arm tightened around her shoulder then slid down her arm to lightly caress the expanse of wrist exposed below the rolled fabric of her blazer. His warm touch sent goosebumps skittering in their wake, and she swallowed harshly before she spoke. "All I'm saying is that looks aren't everything."

"Right." Suddenly, Malfoy was wrenching her upright and standing her before Blaise and Ginny. His hands were rough on her hips as he towered over her shoulder, speaking into her ear in low, gravelly tones. "Keep in mind I'm doing this to help you, Granger."

The vestiges of the magic that had seared into her wrist the previous day grew warm, and she nodded reluctantly at the truth of his words.

"Right, then." Suddenly, his hands slid upward as Blaise and Ginny peered at her. "You've got the laughing down, Granger. You know just when to titter at the jokes, and I'll give you that your wit is sharp enough to cut a man." The compliment brought a grin to her lips that she forced away. "But what you lack is confidence."

She straightened, throwing an incredulous look over her shoulder at him. "I beg your pardon? I do not lack confidence!"

In the booth, Ginny leaned forward. "He's right, Hermione. You haven't done anything for yourself in years. You're always so…" Ginny paused, biting down harshly on her lip before whispering, "uptight."

Red. Hermione saw red as she glared down her ex-boyfriend's sister. "I am not uptight! I'm driven; I go to work and go home and work some more. I don't have time to maintain a relationship."

But Malfoy's hand was on her hip again, the other resting in the centre of her spine. "Stand up straight."

Rage boiled in her core as she involuntarily followed his demand, and Blaise laughed quietly. "Granger, you're a babe. Own it. Embrace it." His gaze roved her body as his arm wrapped around Ginny. "There are many wizards who would give anything to have you in their bed."

The comment was… unorthodox, but Hermione found herself preening under it before she narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm not doing this just to get laid, Zabini. I want…"

"Love." It washed over her in a quiet exhale, Malfoy's breath sending the fine hairs on the back of her neck standing to attention for the second time. His grip on her hip tightened as he stepped into her space, his back pressed to her front. "Look around; there are lots of wizards in here today."

Captivated, her eyes roamed the room, catching on several men who watched their interaction. Jealousy shone in the depths of some of their gazes, and a tiny part of her she hated to acknowledge preened at the attention. But then reality came crashing back as Malfoy squeezed her hip. "But I don't want superficial attention; I want to fall in love."

She sounded plaintive to her own ears, but that was the truth of it. That was why she was here, with Malfoy, in a bar and two whiskys deep on a Friday. That was why she was even giving him the benefit of the doubt in the first place, why she was avoiding the nagging voice in her mind that told her he had yet to actually write anything of considerable contribution to Witch Weekly.

But Malfoy's voice brought her back to herself, to the bar, to their goal. "And you will, but you have to embrace what you've got. No man is going to want a woman who doesn't own what she's got." And then his tone turned salacious, and she could nearly hear the waggle of his brows. "Because at the end of the day, all we're interested in is looks. No one falls in love with your personality at first sight."

With a sigh of disgust, she broke from his embrace, snatching up her glass of whisky and drowning it in one go. "So what you're telling me is that I need to change everything about who I am to get Theo to like me. Forgive me if that doesn't sound like the most stellar plan in the world."

She slumped back in her seat even as Malfoy shrugged and crossed the bar to the brunette he'd been eyeing earlier.

When Hermione heard her tinkling laughter filter through the air as Malfoy wrapped an arm around her waist and whispered something undoubtedly filthy in her ears, Hermione rolled her eyes, sinking further in her chair.

A wave of her hand summoned another whisky from the bartender, and she tried to ignore the way Ginny and Blaise canoodled together on the other side of the bench.

When the other witch settled a scrap of bar napkin in Draco's hand and a flirty kiss on his cheek, Hermione downed the rest of the whisky.

She'd definitely made a mistake.

When they arrived back in the office, Hermione went straight to her desk, kicking her kitten heels off inside the doorway. The objects in her office held a faint shimmering hue around them that hadn't been there before, and that was when she realised she was well and truly pissed.

At work. At one o'clock on a Friday.

Bugger.

Settling into her desk chair proved difficult, the tight fit of her pencil skirt obstructing her movement, and she abandoned all hope of lowering herself gracefully into the desk and instead chose to flop into it, hands going up to shield her eyes.

Merlin, when had the lights in here gotten so bright.

"Granger, I'd be worried you were a drunk if I didn't know better." Malfoy's dry sarcasm was a battering ram to her already fuzzy head, and she leaned back, praying to every deity that was listening to make the ceiling stop spinning and send him away.

When the insistence of his gaze didn't leave her, she canted her head down. There he was, leaning casually against the closed door of her office, in his too-tight jeans and that stupid, charming smirk.

Bugger Draco Bloody Malfoy.

With a quiet hiccup, she raised her hand, levelling a finger at him. "This is all your fault."

Blond brows shot upward, landing somewhere in the vicinity of his hairline. "You're the one that downed four firewhiskies in an hour; it's not as though I held a wand to your head and threatened you with an Unforgivable."

She pouted, knowing full well that he was right. "Well if you hadn't gone on pointing out my flaws to your friends, maybe I wouldn't feel so bloody foolish."

Rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw, he nodded, crossing the room in a slow prowl. "So what you're saying is that I embarrassed you."

Scoffing, she stared up at him. "You're bloody right! You made a fool out of me." Another hiccup. "We need to write this blasted column."

Malfoy nodded, slumping into the chair across from her with a salacious smile as he allowed the change of subject. "So what'll it be, Granger?"

But the room was spinning, and Hermione couldn't focus on the words in front of her. They swam in and out of focus, the ever-changing riot of words driving her spare. Though it pained her to do so, she squeezed her eyes shut and spoke. "What do you suggest? Since you're brought on to save us." She tried and failed to infuse the jab with animosity, but the growing pounding of her head sabotaged her.

"Merlin, Granger, you're a mess."

Rolling her eyes was a poor choice; the room seemed to ripple around her, and she leaned forward, groping blindly for the intercom button. It buzzed loudly before Daphne's voice came through. "Yeah, boss?"

In a slow, steady—or as steady as she could be when she was drunk off her arse in the middle of the afternoon—stream, she responded, "Daph, I need a Sober Up potion."

When she released the button, crackly silence answered her, and for a moment, she thought the intercom might have failed. But just as she was reaching for the button to try again, Daphne's voice came through. "A Sober Up? I'm sorry, I just… did I hear you correctly? It's a bit early, and—"

She couldn't contain her groan as she slammed the button down, interrupting her friend. "Yes, Daph, a Sober Up potion. And quickly." More silence, and then she pressed it again, adding contritely, "Please."

Outside her door, she could hear the telltale clack of Daphne's heels hurrying away, and she pressed her forehead to the table, sighing to herself in anticipation of the potion's effects.

But her relief didn't last. Fabric rustled together before her, and then an insistent tapping rhythm started on the far side of her desk.

Right where Malfoy reposed.

Each tap seemed to burrow through the wood grain of her desk and drill into her forehead; soon, the pulsating rhythm in her head matched the beat, and she wrenched herself upright, wild-eyed and angry as she glared at him across the table. "What, Malfoy? What could possibly be so bloody important that you're going to drive me absolutely batty with your Merlin-be-damned tapping?!"

She refused to acknowledge how shrill her voice climbed and the manic flashes of accidental magic that flickered in the tips of her hair.

A slow, lecherous smile curled up Malfoy's lips as he stared her down. "You know, Granger, passion is also a good look on you."

Ooh, this wizard was going to be the death of her… if she didn't kill him first. She flopped back in her seat, staring back petulantly as she picked an imaginary piece of lint off her skirt. "Why don't you admit that everything is a good look on me and you're wasting both of our time sitting there grinning like mad and get to the point."

A low whistle sounded between them as Malfoy leaned forward, gaze sharp. "Granger, are you flirting with me?"

Her jaw popped open, and she spluttered, searching for something to say, when the door cracked open and stuck her head inside. "Hermione? I've tracked down the Sober Up." She held up a small vial of citrine liquid. When she saw Hermione and Malfoy on opposite sides of the desk, she edged into the room, eyeing them suspiciously as she handed over the potion.

Hermione couldn't drink it fast enough, but when it finally settled in her stomach, she sighed contentedly. The warmth of the potion spread rapidly through her limbs, numbing some of the pain and she could finally think straight. "Thanks, Daph. You're a lifesaver."

The other woman arched a suspicious brow at her, but she nodded anyway. "You owe me. I had to agree to a date with McLaggen to get that for you."

Even Malfoy wrinkled his nose at that one, and Hermione lifted a shoulder in apology. "I'm sorry?"

"Not good enough, Granger." Daphne's tone bordered on amused, but she'd affixed a stern frown to her face. "You owe me dinner, and not some half-arsed take-out from the Chinese place you like so much." She spoke over Hermione's protests. "Tonight."

But Malfoy raised a hand, shaking his head in disagreement. "Not tonight; we've got plans."

"What?" Hermione all but squawked the word. "We do not have any plans; there is no we to speak of here."

Malfoy continued, ignoring her as he spoke to Daphne. "Granger's mine tonight," he reiterated, "but she's free tomorrow night."

She was sure steam was coming out of her ears as she leaned forward, palms flat on the table as she seethed at the wizard. "Just where do you think you get off on telling my friends what my schedule is like, you giant, spoiled, pure-blooded—" The magic from their oath suddenly flared to life, glowing hotly on her wrist, and she recoiled, snapping her mouth shut as he eyed her pointedly. "Git," she muttered, ignoring the final twinge of the magic.

When she didn't say anything further, Malfoy turned back to Daphne. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, Granger has plans tonight. And we've got a column to write. So if you'll excuse us…" He arched his eyebrows expectantly.

"Right." Daphne didn't try to hide the speculation on her face as she walked away, a fact that ground on Hermione's nerves. "Lunch tomorrow, then. Yeah?"

"Yeah," Hermione replied, dazed. When the door settled closed behind her friend, she drew in a deep breath, steadying herself before asking, "And just what are we doing tonight, Malfoy?"

He huffed, summoning half a stack of parchment she kept piled neatly on the corner of her desk. "Let's get some work done." The papers slid over each other as he thumbed through them, his gaze flicking up to meet hers before he nodded insistently at the other half of the stack. "Go on. Tonight can wait."

Irritation flared to life at his audacity to direct her around in her own office, but she drew her lip between her teeth with a sharp sigh. She hated that he was right, but there was work to be done.

After several moments, Malfoy waved his hand, summoning a quill, and the sound of its scratching across the parchment filled the silence. "So, Granger, what are you working on?"

Gods bless George Weasley and his potion because she could not handle another—she paused, checking the clock that hung above her door—two hours of this. Her gaze traced over the words on the page, picking out a comma splice in Lavender's piece on sustainable hair product alternatives to Sleekeazy's. She felt a thrill of satisfaction as she crossed through the comma and replaced it with a semicolon, allowing the red ink to dry before she responded. "Editing."

He answered with a quiet hum, and his scratching resumed. After another few minutes of blissful quiet, he asked, "Shouldn't we be working on this column together?"

The column. The bloody column she was supposed to write with him. Merlin help her. Two more slashes of her red quill marked a passage for review before she settled it beside the parchment draft, eyeing it critically.

Reluctantly, she raised her chin, watching the way he focused on the parchment before him and wrote out lines in tight, neat script. "What if…" Gods, she couldn't believe she was about to offer him this. "What if you wrote it, and I edited it for publication."

His quill clattered down, and he stared at her, mouth agape. "You're offering me a column. Just like that. After all your moaning about when I was hired." At her sharp nod, his eyes narrowed. "Why?"

To get him out of her hair? To prove to him she wasn't as uptight as he thought she was? All of those answers felt more vulnerable than she was willing to be with him, so she lifted her hand in a flippant shrug. "Call it a test of faith. You wanted to work; here's your opportunity."

Something flashed across Malfoy's face, but he schooled his features. He was out of the chair and rounding her desk before she could react, papers flying through the air to settle neatly in their respective briefcases. Then he was dragging her to the door by her hand.

By the time they reached the door, her office was back in order, and he shoved her bag into her hand. "Malfoy, what in Merlin's name do you—"

"Shh, Granger, you'll ruin the fun of it." He swatted her behind once, and this time she did squawk, fumbling for her wand as he herded her towards the lift.

She whirled on him as he pushed her inside. "Malfoy, if you touch my arse one more time, I swear on all things magical—"

His smarmy grin met her declaration. "Really, Granger, you ought to loosen up a little bit. I'm taking you shopping after all."

Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head as the doors slid shut. "Shopping?"

A/N: Thanks for reading along! You guys are making this so much fun, and I appreciate you all so much. I'm behind on responding to reviews, but just know that each and every one of you make this experience ten times better, and I'm so humbled that you're reading my words at all. Again, alpha creds to mcal and LadyKenz347 and beta creds to In Dreams!