Roses are red

Violets are blue

I don't own Harry Potter

This is sad, but true

Thanks to my alpha/beta Littlered1992, who worked her butt off helping me rework this chapter several times. You're a legend! Xx

Blaise Zabini was well known for his prowess with the ladies. There wasn't a witch he couldn't charm with a simple smile, and his reputation often preceded him in professional and personal settings. Nothing, however, had prepared him for a determined Hermione Granger. Sure, they had been at school together for six years, but he had never been on the receiving end of her attention, in class or otherwise.

He swallowed thickly as Hermione continued to appraise him, her head tilted to the side and her eyes narrowed. Her lips were pursed and he could practically hear the cogs whirring inside of her head.

"A plan?" His voice was slightly strangled; he did not like the way her eyes sparkled with mischief. She nodded and he cleared his throat. "What does it involve?"

She spoke quickly. "What would you say if I told you I have a plan that will see us all get what we want, but it involves you sleeping with Vivienne Weasley?"

Blaise wrinkled his nose. "Granger, I know I have a bit of a reputation, but all of that aside, I'm actually very picky about the witches I share my bed with."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Please, just hear me out?"

Blaise pressed his lips together and exhaled forcefully through his nose. "Fine," he said as he pushed past her to sit in an armchair. As he sat, he looked over at Hermione. "What did you have in mind?

Hermione moved to sit in the armchair opposite him. "Before I tell you," she held up a hand, "I need to know; what happened during your meeting with Vivienne the other day?"

Blaise smirked. "Are you sure?"

Hermione gave him a stern look. "Blaise."

"You're no fun," he teased. "It was actually very boring. She didn't want to know about Draco at all; she just asked a lot of questions about me."

"Did you answer them?"

"Granger," Blaise scoffed. "Do I look like an idiot to you?" Hermione raised an eyebrow but Blaise ignored it. "I blackmailed her to have you reinstated all those months ago." He paused to gauge her reaction, but if Hermione hadn't known about his underhanded dealings she was very good at concealing her surprise. "I'm not in the business of giving scorned women ammunition to use against me."

"Well that is good news," Hermione said brusquely. "I picked up on her interest in you when she was here; I'm not sure if she sees you as a possible conquest, or whether she thinks that seducing you will further her agenda…either way, I don't think it would be too difficult to get her in between the sheets." Hermione waggled her eyebrows at Blaise and the wizard cringed.

"Never do that again," he shook his head as if to clear himself of the image. "And of course it won't be," he gestured to himself.

"It's definitely your modesty that makes you so attractive," Hermione deadpanned.

"Jealousy doesn't become you, Granger," he quipped with a small smile. "Now tell me, what purpose does this serve for Draco and Narcissa?"

"The code is located in the underground vaults and only accessible to Ministry employees," Blaise gestured for her to get to the part he didn't know. "Now that Harry knows I want to get in there, access will probably have been further restricted to the higher ups; in short, I need Vivienne's job."

"Okay," Blaise leant forward. "I sleep with her…how does that help?"

"We get proof," Hermione grinned and Blaise's eyes widened. "And we blackmail her, again. I doubt she would be happy for Ron to know that she cheated on him."

"No offence, Granger," Blaise frowned. "But why would Vivienne care about Weasley's feelings?"

"Because she won't want a scandal. She's built a very careful reputation on being the girl next door. A divorce from one of the Golden Trio would mar her for life, especially if her infidelity is brought up."

Blaise's face did not give him away, but he was impressed by the Muggle-born witch. "Okay." He extended his arm towards Hermione; she leaned forward and grasped his large hand in her much smaller one. "You've got yourself a deal."

Hermione grinned. "Thank you, Zabini."

"Please," he shot her a winning smile. "Call me Blaise."

"Blaise," she smirked back at him and dropped his hand. "I really appreciate this." She stood to leave. "Please let me know when you've got the proof." She winked and stood, collecting her bag from the side of the couch.

"Of course." He stood and slid his hands into his trouser pockets. "Oh, and Granger?"

Hermione stopped just as she reached the hall and glanced over her shoulder. "Yes?"

"Don't worry about Draco," he shrugged and offered her a small smile. "He'll get over it."

"Thanks," she paused for just a second to quirk the corner of her mouth into the semblance of a sad smile, and then continued down the hallway and out of the front door.

As soon as Granger left, Blaise turned on his heel and marched up the stairs towards Draco's study. He found his blond friend sitting at his desk nursing a glass of Firewhiskey. He was leaning back in his chair, his arm held straight out in front of him as if he had not a care in the world. Draco arched an eyebrow as Blaise burst in without knocking.

"You're an idiot." Blaise stated. Draco scowled and brought his drink to his lips, choosing to ignore the gripe. "After everything she's done for you, you're going to throw another tantrum?"

"You don't understand." Draco bit out. "Lucius is not someone to be messed with."

"Has he contacted you recently?" Draco cursed Blaise's businessman reflexes. Though his face remained neutral, Blaise was not fooled. "Draco," he warned.

"Yes," he admitted through clenched teeth. "He's becoming more insistent."

"Does he still think you're helping him?"

Draco sneered. "Lucius has always known my position; I was only in contact with him for Mother."

"And now?"

"He doesn't deserve freedom," Draco growled.

"And you think Granger is doing this for your father?"

Draco was silent for a long time before he dropped his gaze to his glass and sighed. "No," he admitted. "But I'm still furious; she shouldn't have gone to see him."

"She went on your mother's orders," Blaise shrugged and sat in the chair opposite Draco's. "And I feel like this is partially my fault; I did accost her in her apartment without warning. I didn't exactly tell her not to see Lucius."

Draco groaned, a low frustrated note. "I'm not mad at her," he shook his head. "I'm slightly pissed at you," he stared pointedly at Blaise, who offered him an unapologetic grin in return. Another pause; "but not her." His voice had softened considerably, and Blaise fought the urge to jump up from his seat and scream at the blond wizard what was painfully to obvious to anyone but him.

"You need to apologise," he said firmly. "Granger is working her arse off for you and your mother, regardless of the fact that your father has become involved in the process. It's a minor detail we can figure out later."

"You're right."

"I'm sorry," Blaise leant forward and cupped a hand around his ear. "Can you repeat that, I didn't quite catch it."

"Sod off, prat." Draco murmured around another sip of his drink.

Blaise grinned and lifted himself from his chair. Draco looked up at him and then nodded towards the bottle of Ogden's in the middle of his desk. "Feel free to pour yourself a glass."

Blaise shook his head. "No thanks," he moved so that he could clap Draco on the shoulder. "I have a date." He began to retreat from the room backwards.

"With who?"

"Your future," he winked conspiratorially and Draco rolled his eyes. "Call Granger and grovel!" He shouted as he disappeared around the door.

"Yeah, yeah," Draco whispered before gulping back the remainder of his glass.

Hermione was curled up in her lone armchair by the empty fireplace. She was lost in one of the heavy tomes she had loaned from Draco's library; a volume on legal practices that was so old, it had been written on rag.

She was so absorbed in her reading that the swish of large wings and an insistent peck at the window did not rouse her straight away. It wasn't until the bird gave an impatient shriek that Hermione started and looked up.

Malfoy's owl was unmistakeable as it perched regally on the sliver of windowsill outside of her kitchen. She frowned as she rose slowly from her chair and went to retrieve the elegant scroll from its beak. Ruffling its feathers, the bird strutted into the kitchen and sat staring pointedly on the edge of her kitchen bench. Hermione eyed it warily for a second. Clearly he wants a response, she thought, her fingers gliding over the purple ribbon and successfully untying it.

Granger,

Miksy would like to request your presence at the Manor tomorrow night. I've tried telling her that you're an extremely important witch with a schedule that doesn't allow for such trivialities as dinner with me, but she's insistent.

Please send your response via return owl. I understand if you can't make it, but Miksy will be devastated; just saying.

Best,

D.M.

P.S. I'm sorry for being a prat earlier

Hermione read through the letter three times, unsure of whether she wanted to squeal like a teenage girl in a terrible Muggle movie, or set the parchment on fire and curse the sender to Hades. With an exasperated groan, Hermione dropped the parchment on to the counter. Harry's words played on repeat in her mind:

"You're falling for him."

"I am not falling for Draco Malfoy." Hermione said aloud. The words bounced around her kitchen, sounding foreign to her own ears. She swallowed thickly and ignored the nagging voice inside her head. "And to prove it…" her volume increased as she stomped into her study and retrieved a piece of parchment and a quill. With a flourish, she penned her response.

Malfoy,

I accept your invitation – only for Miksy, of course.

Tell her I'll see her tomorrow at 6pm.

Hermione

"There," she said triumphantly as she attached the scroll to the leg of Malfoy's owl. "I'll go to dinner tomorrow night and at the end of the evening there will be no doubt that I don't like Malfoy…like that, anyway." She looked down at Crookshanks who had wandered over at the sound of her musings. "Right, Crooks?" She bent to scratch him behind the ears. He allowed it, but not before he gave her a look that said, 'not likely.'

The next night, Hermione arrived at the Manor fifteen minutes early. She had been telling herself all day that this definitely wasn't a date, and that she did not care about what she looked like or whether there would be a lull in the conversation…

To prove this, she chose a simple pair of dark blue jeans and a silk red blouse. She left her hair down and applied no makeup; she did not prepare her usual list of talking points. This was simply dinner between a lawyer and her client during which the client would apologise for being such a prat for the past…well, forever, really.

She shrugged her shoulders as she mounted the front steps, as if she could shake the feeling of excited anticipation from her body. It's just dinner, she reminded herself firmly. You'll eat, and then leave. Nothing else will happen. She repeated this as a mantra as she stepped forward and knocked on the solid front door.

"Coming!" Hermione heard Draco's voice from a distance, and then hurried footsteps as he made his way towards her. "Hello," he greeted her solemnly as he opened the door. "Come in."

"Thank you," Hermione replied stiffly before brushing past him. She glanced around, unsure of where she should be looking. "Where's Blaise?" She blurted out before she could stop herself.

Draco's eyes tightened, but he answered in a reasonably calm voice. "He's out."

"Oh."

This is off to a brilliant start, Hermione thought sarcastically.

Thankfully, Miksy chose that moment to appear between them, a small flowery apron wrapped over her Malfoy-embossed pillow case.

"Dinner will be ready in half an hour!" She squeaked, eyeing them both with unbridled excitement. "Master Draco, sir, I have set up wine in the upstairs sitting room!"

"Thank you, Miksy." Draco murmured. He glanced furtively at Hermione as the little elf skipped down the hallway and disappeared towards the kitchens. "Shall we?"

They remained silent until Draco led Hermione into the sitting room. It was brilliantly lit with floating candles, and a spread of cheese and crackers lay on the coffee table. A decanter full of red wine stood next to the platter alongside two crystal goblets.

"Wine?" Draco's tone was that of a well-raised aristocrat, but his face was still pinched into a frown.

"Yes, please." Hermione settled herself on the couch.

Draco poured two glasses and offered one to Hermione before he took a seat next to her. "Cheers," he murmured, raising the glass aloft briefly before bringing it to his lips. Hermione mimicked his movements.

"So," she started, nerves evident in her voice. "Miksy wanted to see me?"

Draco's mouth twitched and for a moment, Hermione could have sworn he was about to smile. "Yes," he said slowly. "She has been missing you lately."

"Really?" Hermione arched an eyebrow.

Draco took another sip of wine and nodded slowly. "She knows how hard you're working on my mother's case, and she is very grateful for the sacrifices you've made over the years…" he trailed off at the look on her face. "What?"

"Miksy is grateful for the work I've been doing?" She gave him a meaningful look, but Draco's expression did not change.

"Yes," he looked into his glass as if it was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. "She is."

Hermione's heart beat a strong rhythm against her rib cage. Was he seriously using his elf to express his own feelings?

"Draco," she began slowly, her tongue darting out over her lips to catch the remnants of wine. "I know you're upset about Lucius…" she trailed off as he held up a hand to stop her.

"What you have to understand," he placed his glass on the coffee table and then looked up at her, piercing grey irises willing her to empathise, "is that Lucius will not rest until he has made us miserable."

"Us? You mean you and your mother."

"No," Draco smiled grimly, "I mean you and I."

Hermione's eyes went wide. "You and I? What could he possibly do to either of us?"

"You'd be surprised," he replied darkly. The intensity of his gaze had her fighting the urge to look away. "He will be especially keen to make my life a living hell."

"But the letters he sent you; he cares about you."

Draco laughed, a hollow, mirthless sound. "No, he doesn't." He dropped his gaze and twisted his fingers together in his lap. "He is a very good actor; he's not stupid enough to think that the Ministry would not be intercepting mail. If he's going to record himself saying something, he makes sure it makes him look innocent; or at least redeemed."

"He seems to care for your mother," Hermione offered, suddenly desperate to see Draco smile or smirk; the dejected look he was currently sporting was tugging at her heart.

"He does," Draco agreed. "Mother is the only one for whom Lucius cares. "But," he heaved a huge sigh, "even then, he does not love her more than he loves himself." He dragged his gaze back up to hers, and relished in the way her eyes tightened and her jaw set in obvious anger on his behalf.

"I know this isn't what you wanted, having Lucius return home – "

"What I want is my mother home safely," Draco's eyes had taken on a hard quality. "If you have to release Lucius to make that happen, then so be it."

Hermione blinked several times in quick succession. She opened her mouth to say something, but Miksy reappeared to invite them to the dining table.

Hermione followed behind Draco, noting the way his back muscles rippled under his freshly ironed shirt; he had filled out considerably since his return. She entered the dining room with a faint flush on her cheeks at the thought of admiring Draco Malfoy's body, but she couldn't help noticing that he was an extremely handsome wizard…when he wasn't sneering at her, that is.

He surprised her by waiting behind one of the place settings and pulling her chair out as she came to sit down.

"Thank you," she murmured, the pink spots on her cheeks deepening. He offered her a polite smile before taking a seat across from her.

"Here you is, Sir and Miss!" Miksy squeaked as she re-entered the room. A large roast dinner appeared between them on the wooden table, and Hermione's eyes grew wide; all of this for two people?

"Thank you, Miksy," Draco said before gesturing for Hermione to start serving herself. She began to pile meat on to her plate, followed by potatoes.

"Miksy is so glad you is here, Miss!" The little elf had appeared at Hermione's elbow, her orb-like eyes glowing with happiness.

"Er –" Hermione stuttered as she finished helping herself to gravy. She chanced a glance at Draco, but he was busying himself with the serving tongs. "I'm very glad to be here too."

Miksy beamed, clasping her hands in front of herself before bowing low and disapparating away.

"I told you," Draco shrugged as Hermione arched an eyebrow at him.

The rest of the meal was spent in companionable silence, interspersed with pockets of casual conversation. Hermione was beginning to think that perhaps she had read too much into the invitation; maybe it really was all Miksy's idea, and Draco had just added the post script to his letter as an afterthought.

When he had spoken of Miksy earlier, a part of her had thought that he had been using the elf as a substitute for himself. Hermione found that she wanted him to miss her, even if she could not admit it. That hope was quickly evaporating as he told her of his plans for the future; running the Malfoy business, purchasing an apartment in London, and travelling the world. Disappointment curled in her gut as the realisation that she wanted to be apart of Draco Malfoy's future hit her like a bludger in the face.

"I want to make a name for myself," he was saying as she fought the urge to stand abruptly and run back to her apartment. "I don't want to be marred by my last name."

"Nor should you be," she responded in a calm voice – far calmer than she felt – and set her knife and fork on her plate. Of course he would achieve his goals; why wouldn't he? She only wished that she would be there to watch him succeed. Despite being overwhelmed with the feeling of disappointment and the shock of the sudden realisation that she wasn't quite ready to say goodbye to Draco, Hermione schooled her features into a politely interested expression.

Draco smiled back at her, but quickly frowned; he wasn't buying the cool façade. "Are you okay?" He queried, cocking his head to the side. "You've been almost silent all night; I can't remember the last time Hermione Granger didn't have something to say."

"I'm fine," she replied, forcing her mouth into a smile. "I'm enjoying listening, that's all."

"Hmm," he pursed his lips and then stood suddenly from the table. "Let's go for a walk," he suggested, offering his hand.

Hermione glanced at it as if it might bite her if she touched it. Draco withdrew his hand quickly as he caught her expression. He cleared his throat, a flush staining the tips of his cheek bones. "Sorry," he grimaced. "Old habits die hard."

Hermione supposed he was referring to aristocratic etiquette but chose not to comment as she stood and stepped towards him. "No, I'm sorry." Bravely, she reached for his hand and clasped it in hers. "Lead the way."

Draco glanced at their hands, hanging intertwined between them, and then back up to Hermione's face. She offered him a small smile as he gazed at her with stormy eyes. For a moment, she thought he might close the distance between them, or tug her into his chest; she certainly felt his hand twist in hers…But then he turned slowly and indicated with his free hand that she should follow him. He led her down several corridors lined with life-sized portraits of Malfoy ancestors. A few shot her glares of loathing, but most were either sleeping or too absorbed in their own activities to notice a Muggle-born in their midst.

Finally, they reached a set of glass doors which led on to a large courtyard. Draco dropped her hand to open them, and Hermione noticed a stirring of dismay at the loss of contact. She followed him into the night and inhaled sharply at the beauty that surrounded her. The ground was set with cobblestone, lined by perfect green hedges. Beyond the hedges were large trees with wispy branches, and blooms of flowers in reds, pinks, and whites.

Hermione wandered into the centre of the space and began to turn on the spot, her face raised to the sky to take in the twinkling fairies that fluttered daintily from hedge to hedge above their heads.

"It's beautiful," she whispered as she twirled.

"It is," Draco replied softly, his gaze fixed on the witch before him. He took two steps forward, but kept a safe distance between them. He knew that it would probably scare her away at this point, but watching her face alight with wonder had ignited a blazing warmth in his chest, and he feared if he did not let a little bit out, he might burst.

He took another step forward, her first name on the tip of his tongue when…

"Hello!" The glass doors opened with a loud clatter and Blaise strode towards them, a slight spring in his step. "Hope I'm not interrupting."

Draco opened his mouth to tell him that he was, in fact, interrupting, but Hermione beat him to it; "No, not at all!" She grinned at the Italian and Draco felt the heat that seconds ago had burned in his chest as if it might cook him from the inside out, solidify into an unforgiving block of ice.

"Brilliant!" The Italian crossed the courtyard and rubbed his hands together excitedly.

"What do you want, Blaise?" Draco asked through gritted teeth, his gaze still trained on Hermione who was looking between the two men with mild bemusement.

"Actually," Blaise came to stand beside the pair of them, "I need to speak to Granger." His eyes flitted from Draco's face and landed on Hermione. She looked over at Draco who was staring at Blaise as if he meant to set his head on fire.

"Um, sure…" she trailed off, as if expecting him to say something. Draco simply shrugged and swallowed the ire that threatened to escape his throat. He stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets as Blaise slung an arm around Hermione's shoulder and steered her towards the doors. "Thanks for dinner, Draco." Hermione threw over her shoulder. "Please pass on my gratitude to Miksy."

As they reached the exit, Blaise turned to take in Draco's expression. He smirked as he caught the look on the blond's face; if looks could kill, he thought wryly, I'd be the poster boy for the new killing curse.

Me again! I've taken on a role as alpha/beta myself for the lovely and wonderful Mrs. Ren. She has a new Muggle AU story out, "Wanderlust", which I highly recommend you start following! It features a tattooed Draco and if you don't think you need one of those in your life, you are wrong.

But seriously, please go and show her some love! :D