A/N: Oooff… things are starting to happen in this next chapter, all though not as quickly as some of you might want, but it's ok we'll get to that in time ;) ALSO guess what favorite potions professor I've decided to allow to live out his glory? (ok ill stop now but seriously i love him and there will be more of him to come in future chapters yaaaay)

Again, please leave reviews with as much criticism as you'd like (I need it), and follow and favorite if you like the story!

Obviously, this is a super late update, please forgive me as I haven't got the hang of this whole writing thing yet.

Disclaimer: Everything to do with Harry Potter and/or characters belongs to the fabulous J.K Rowling, all I own is the plot.

3: Questionable Circumstances

It was Monday. Probably the least-liked day of the week. And Hermione was woken up with the most unpleasant noises.

She rolled onto her side and faced the wall, just slightly opening her eyes as to not let the light in too much, but her plans of staying in bed just a little bit more were disrupted by groans and voices coming from her neighbors' flat. Actually it sounds like Malfoy's flat, based off of the side of the room it's coming from. There were more moans and little squeal followed by giggling. A woman? Oh god. Oh no, please no.

Already guessing what could be happening in the other room, she attempted to stifle the noise with a pillow to her ears, but to no avail. A little morning shag, huh, Malfoy? Godric, I really didn't need to know that's happening…

The noises simply just got louder and Hermione was forced to get up and throw on a robe before quickly quieting their noises with a spell. They were still audible but definitely not as bad as when she'd woken up. She exhaled and started her morning process to get ready for work at the ministry, but she found herself wondering who this lady could be.

Surely not Narcissa right? No, she left him…it wouldn't make sense. Maybe just a random girl he picked up. A rebound? That sounded right, and certainly something that he would do. I mean any girl looking for a bit of fun would probably love to get in his bed.

Sure, he was a git, and an evil one to boot, but there was undeniable attractiveness in his features, even if he was a bit older. A good 20 years to be exact, but did age really matter? Of course Hermione. Yes, age matters, Godric, what made you even think about that in the first place?

She finished brushing her teeth and rinsed her mouth with the freezing water from the tap. As she swished it around, she thought some more about it, but then she shook her head and almost spat the water all over the mirror trying not to laugh. Why was she even thinking about his choice in women? Or even him at all? This is ridiculous Hermione. You need to stop it this instant.

Putting on one of her nice sets of periwinkle robes, she strode out with wand and bag in hand, after she had finished her little rant in her head about Malfoy not even bothering to put a muffliato around his room before proceeding to have a little tumble about with a new catch.

Really, how daft of him. Does he even know he's a wizard and can do that sort of thing? Rolling her eyes, she tried not to think about it any more. It would just make her even more ruffled, and that just wouldn't do to go to work in the morning like that. She thought about leaving a very passive aggressive sticky note on his door saying something along the lines of, 'Mr. Malfoy, in the future, please keep you're shagging noises to yourself. No one really needs to know that you like it rough,' but she decided that would be a bit crude and immature, so she went against it.

She arrived in her office with three minutes to spare and a lot on her mind. Ok, first things first, time to get that new intern situated.

It was summer, and there was a recently graduated seventh year from Hogwarts working his first job at the ministry and planning to become 'as good at helping elves live their best lives, as Hermione Granger is at being awesome,' according to the young man. She was thoroughly pleased by his exuberance in following in her footsteps, but he could be a bit much when it came to his 'helping'.

Just last week, she had asked him to print out some copies of the recently passed laws regarding house elves, to review them, and to also write up a few rough ideas for laws that could add on to those other laws. He came to her office the following day—with 37 new ideas. She had asked for a few. Not that this was bad, in fact, he reminded her a bit of herself when she was at school, and she now understood what she had put Professor McGonagall through for six years, but she had to assign all these new ideas to be looked at by several other people and a little more work had been put on their plate because of this.

Hermione was sure that he'd find his way around in no time at all, but for the moment, it was quite overwhelm ing as one might imagine.

Just as she was thinking of the intern, there was a knock on her door, and in came the tall boy with robes that were much too short for him. With a mane of brown hair and keen moss green eyes, disheveled robes and a badly done tie, he looked every part the young new intern as was physically possible.

"Miss Granger, hi—I mean good morning!"

"Mr. Bellinger, good morning to you too. What brings you here at such an early hour?" Hermione replied with as much professionalism as she could at the moment, stifling at laugh because of the boy's obvious nervousness.

Nearly shaking at the knees (either with fear or excitement she couldn't tell), he began to inform her of all his doings of the weekend, and how they pertained to his work on researching the statistics of the level of treatment of house elves in Wizarding England.

How cute. He's so nervous to be working here, even as a level one intern with no pay. She held another laugh in, though it was a good natured one.

She had to admit, it was quite strange being referred to as 'Miss Granger' by a boy not three years younger than her, but then again, she wasn't complaining. It was actually nice to get the respect she felt she deserved, being one of the youngest women in the ministry to hold such reputable stature as a boss.

As Bellinger finished, she gave him some praise (at this he looked absolutely thrilled), but told him that it really wasn't necessary to work so hard on the weekends (he had completed the next weeks assignments in full).

"Speaking from previous experience, it's not worth your time or happiness to spend every hour of the day pouring over books and records, when you could be spending time doing other things, like conversing with friends and—er—partying and such, isn't that what people your age do nowadays?"

The boys face couldn't have looked more confused and at the same time pleased if he'd tried.

Hermione noticed just then that she sounded old. Like really old.

Merlin's beard, no wonder why he's confused. I'm not even out of my twenties and I'm speaking like this? I could very well just be saying 'when I was a youngin' back in the old days' or some crazy thing like that. Speaking of which, what do people my age do nowadays?

Jumping out of her slightly concerning thoughts, she glanced up at the intern who was looking absolutely terrified and expectant as though he'd asked her something and was waiting for a response.

"Er, sorry Mr. Bellinger, what were you saying?"

"Oh…um…I was just asking what you were—er—doing this weekend if you're not busy?"

He laced his hands together and started focusing intently on something on his shoe. What…is happening? Oh dear…is he asking me out? Please tell me he's not asking me out. Godric this is going to be awkward.

Hermione was extremely taken aback, considering this was the last thing that she expected him to do. Why? Why would he ask me out? I mean—oh, I don't even know.

"Mr. Bellinger, I'm extremely flattered, but you do realize that I'm—er —your boss, and work relationships really aren't appropriate, I must inform you, if you didn't know already. Never mind that I'm a few years older than you," she added hesitantly.

Bellinger suddenly became very pale, and seemed to just die on the inside.

"Of—of course, Miss Granger, sorry—I—I mean I don't know what I was thinking, so if you'll just excuse me I'll be in my—er—office…doing stuff," he finished lamely and very quickly. He scuttled out of her office with his tail between his legs.

Oh poor boy, he sounds like he just got rejected from his idol. Ha, I wonder if I am his idol, wouldn't that be funny.

All laughs aside though, Hermione really did feel for the boy, but she knew it just wasn't a good idea, or realistic for that matter.

Oh well. He'd do much better with another newbie intern like him.

She continued her work, shuffling through papers, law drafts and the like, and when her stomach grumbled loudly after a few hours, she looked up at the clock.

1 o'clock. Perfect, just in time for lunch.

She set her pen aside and headed out the door, hoping to get a good table at the ministry workers' restaurant inside the building and maybe sit with a few coworkers.

As she approached the elf taking orders at the green counter, she paid for her regular, and took a table by the charmed window, showing the facade of the rainy London streets.

Looking out of the window, she thought of the boy who had just asked her out a few hours ago. He wasn't bad looking for sure, but he didn't quite have the maturity level that she would need in a…partner? Date? Boyfriend? None of these labels sound good. She needed someone more…authoritative.

Yes, I like that word.

Not too strong like the word 'dominant', but just strong enough to match herself, in fact. But where would one find someone like that, someone that isn't a complete arse...actually, Lucius Malfoy is the perfect example—except for the fact that he is an arse.

If she could simply just fix his atrocious personality, he'd be almost perfect. At least physically, she thought with a sly smirk, not unlike Malfoy's.

He probably has quite a good set of muscles underneath those expensive robes, simply judging from his neck.

She stifled a laugh. Of all the physical traits to observe, she was thinking about his neck. It was laughable. But he does have a very nice neck. Broad and toned, but not too thick, with distinct veins across the sides. Oh and then there was his hair. Oh, his hair. It wasn't the first time she'd thought about running her fingers through that luscious glowing hair of his, just long enough to frame his gorgeous face, with features that could rival marble statues, formed by an artist's hand. To trace the bridge of his nose, right down to his finely pressed lips that came together to form that terribly sensual smirk that was consistently present. Oh, that smirk would be enough to make a woman falter under his gaze and think such atrocious thoughts about a man, thoughts that could turn any woman's lingerie into nothing but a dripping undergarment, ready to be stripped off and tossed onto the floor.

When she was only in her fourth year, the one of the first times that Hermione had met Lucius was at the Quidditch World Cup, and even then, when crushes and fancies were just starting to develop at her tender age, she had found him to be undeniably pleasing to the eye, and she sort of…had a hard time looking away.

She had taken just a few bites of her Shepard's pie, lost in thought about what her hands could do to that body of his, when there was a scraping of a metal chair, and someone pulled up a seat across from her. She pulled her gaze away from the raindrops racing down the window, and faced the blonde haired man.

"Malfoy!"

She almost jumped out of her seat when she realized it was the other Malfoy who had come to join her, but regained her composure and smiled, pleasantly surprised at her new table-mate.

God, and I was just thinking about his father. That thought gave her a slightly queasy feeling in her stomach, but she relaxed when Draco smiled back, his pearly white teeth showing.

"Granger, good to see you too," he said with an amused chuckle. "Does my presence make you that nervous?"

He smirked, but it was good-natured.

Since Draco's trial, when Hermione had spoken for his actions (she still didn't quite understand why she had done it), they had become closer, almost close enough to call friends. They were co-workers, and that fact alone persuaded them to be at least mature around each other. As Hermione had pointed out, if they were to succeed, they'd have to not throw half-assed insults at each other every day.

So that was the start of something that had grown into something of a cordial relationship.

"No, no, you just startled me," Hermione replied, actually thankful for someone to pull her out of her thoughts of…him.

"So what has the insufferable know-it-all been up to lately?" Draco said with good humor, settling himself down and taking a sip of his butterbeer.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Not much, unless you think rejecting a poor intern asking about a date is anything worthwhile," she said, the corners of her mouth turned up.

"Ah so another one of those, hm?" He rolled his eyes. "These boys, honestly. Thinking they can get Granger, the famed war hero to bed; they're ridiculous."

"Well at least someone wants me…" she said, but only half seriously.

"Oh just shut up Granger, don't pity yourself," Draco said not seeing her jest. "Any man would be bloody lucky to have you between his sheets—and I don't just say that to anyone," he added as his face turned from the usual pale white to the tone of a tomato.

"Really—I just…er—thank you," Hermione said—very embarrassed at this former prick actually giving a compliment to none other than her.

"Yes, yes, don't get used to it Granger, you're still on my hate list," Malfoy replied, eyes narrowed, but it was with less venom than the usual jibe and as he sipped his foamy butterbeer, the corner of his lips turned upward.

Hermione arrived back at her flat at 4:00pm sharp, ready to just about have someone levitate her up the stairs she was so tired. But alas, there was only one other wizard in her building, and she wasn't about to trust Malfoy to not throw her down the stairs if she even proposed the idea to him. Sighing, she made her way up to the third floor and into her room where she promptly flopped down on the sofa that was oh so soft on her aching feet, but there was a crack of apparition and the sound of footsteps in the hallway—they stopped directly in front of her room.

"Harry? Ginny?" Hermione called, not opening her closed eyes.

"Er—no, not exactly," a familiar voice sounded outside.

"Malfoy? Why are you here disturbing the peace?" Hermione asked exasperatedly, recognizing the patronizing drawl anywhere. "I just saw you a at lunch—go away unless you have food and plan to give it up to me. Then maybe you may come in. And how do you have my address anyway?"

"I just looked it up on the ministry records, what do you think you dunderhead?" The Malfoy heir called back from outside. Oh dear…someone has been spending too much time with a certain potions professor. Hmmm….I wonder why….

She smirked a little too much.

"Look, I have a couple of papers you left at the table. I'm not your personal food delivery service, and I don't have any food with me at the moment anyway," he said, audibly sighing and she could just imagine him impatiently tapping his foot.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming."

Hermione rolled off of the couch groaning as she stretched her arms in front of her. Opening the door, what did she see but that shiny shoe tapping impatiently against the carpeted floor. Thrusting the papers at her, Malfoy rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Well?" He said with a barely audible grunt.

"Thank you?" Hermione tried. "Is that what you want to hear?"

"Well…yes," Malfoy pouted, lowering his head sheepishly and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Godric, I was going to say it anyway. No need to tell me," Hermione replied shaking her head but giving a small laugh.

"I should go. See you tomorrow—at work, I mean," he said, turning to go. But the opening of a door from the other door stopped him in his tracks.

"Father? This is where you've situated yourself while mother moves out?"

Astonished and open-mouthed, Draco stared, unabashed, at his father.

"You do know this is a muggle building, don't you?" He said, once again regaining his composure and snobbish persona.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Wizards can live in muggle buildings if they want to, Malfoy, there's no rule against it," she said, feeling slighted. Yes, she chose to live in a muggle neighborhood, but it was only to get away from…everything for a while and it had proved to be nice and quiet most of the time, which she appreciated.

"First of all witch, I didn't want to live here, it was simply convenient. And I don't need to explain my actions Draco,"Lucius snapped, obviously displeased with both of them.

Wow okay then…obviously they have issues. Hermione knew that the Malfoy relationships between one another were strained (for obvious reasons, maybe like most of them were Deatheaters), but she could sense that there was a deeper discomfort brewing between them. Stop. You're being nosy again. She scolded herself strictly. It's just like I'm back in school, investigating problems that should be dealt with by someone else—not me. She cursed her curiosity again, but as Malfoy headed down the stairs leaving his son more confused than he started, she couldn't help but follow.