Chapter 3: Forget to Think
Hermione groaned. Who could possibly be knocking on her door at – at 7:30 in the morning? Everyone knew that on Sundays she slept in until eight o'clock. Everyone knew that Sunday was the only day she wanted to sleep in. And she had another thirty minutes. Wondering briefly if they would go away if she didn't answer, she was already climbing out of bed. Cursing herself for not being able to leave a knock or ring alone, she made her way to the door. She was still blinking sleepily when she opened the door. For the second time, she was jolted into reality by his face. What the hell was he doing here? Why the hell was he knocking on her door at seven thirty in the morning? He didn't say anything, but looked her up and down with a smirk on his face that could have held some amusement. It was precisely at that moment when she realized she was still in her pajamas, which consisted of a big, very long T-shirt. She felt foolishly exposed, though only half of her arms and legs were bare. For a moment she struggled against shutting the door in his face and running for some decent clothing, and then she regained control, all without his knowledge. Realizing that inviting him in was the only polite thing to do, Hermione forced herself to do it.
"Uh, please…come in, Malfoy." See, that wasn't so hard, she told herself as he walked in. She gestured toward the small kitchen, where she knew fresh coffee was waiting, next to a clean mug. She had a schedule she liked to follow, and she enjoyed waking up at eight to the smell of coffee from a machine with a timer. "There's some fresh coffee you can have. I'll just be a minute."
He nodded, almost imperceptibly, and smirked to himself about something. Hermione fled to the safety of her bedroom. In a frenzy to get dressed properly and quietly, her mind was occupied with why he could be here. She also reached the conclusion that she should be more arrogant, as it now seemed quite obvious that he had been on her street because of her. A minute later, she was finished pulling on a pair of nice jeans and a thin green sweater. Glancing in the mirror she realized, with no amount of small horror, that she had almost forgotten about her hair. Grimacing to herself, she quickly pulled it back and up with a hair stick. That will have to do, she thought, catching sight of her chapped lips. Well, nothing could be done about that now, she thought on a sigh. The scent of her favorite coffee was more noticeable now, and she was please to note she had only taken three minutes, maybe four. Squaring her shoulders, she took a deep breath and told herself to be polite, no matter what.
Draco Malfoy was wandering around her living room, looking at her things. She bit back the urge to tell him to stop. It was, after all, what everyone did when they entered a new home. Of course, she thought he was being a bit nosier than most, but it was Malfoy, after all. Did she really expect anything else? Getting a new mug out and pour some coffee for herself, she slipped back into the living room, with his back to her. She cleared her throat politely. He nearly jumped. Damn, the woman was fast. It couldn't have been more than five minutes! But then again, he thought, this was Hermione Granger. He should have known she wouldn't take fifteen minutes just because other women have. Did he really expect anything different? He smirked to himself again and was the first to speak.
"Good morning, Granger. I hope I haven't…disturbed you." He really couldn't resist.
"Oh, no. Not at all, Malfoy. Enjoying the coffee?" she replied breezily. He very nearly smiled.
"Yes, thank you. I do believe…this is the first time we've spoken since Graduation."
"Why, so it is. Imagine, if only you hadn't appeared this morning at my door, how many more years it would have been." She smiled sweetly. He would not win. Because, of course everything was a competition when it came to Malfoy.
"Oh, not many, I assure you. You see, I think we're actually going to be seeing a lot more of each other."
"Hmm…" she let it slip. How could you respond to a statement like that without sounding childish? You couldn't, she answered herself. "So, Malfoy, I don't believe I know why you decided to knock on my door at seven thirty in the morning." It was as close to asking as she would come. She was tired of being fake friendly. He sat, making himself comfortable. She sat across from him, in her father's chair. Now, at last, he was ready to really talk.
"Well you see, I tried last weekend, but you weren't here. And that was at nine, so I though I'd try earlier for today. And look, you're home. Success."
"That still doesn't tell me what you're doing in the first place Malfoy. I've been thinking about it, and I simply can't find a single logical explanation for you needing to see me."
"I was elected for it, really. No one else wanted to do it, you see, knowing…how you are about certain things. So they sent me-"
"Good Lord, just tell me already. I appreciate your flair for dramatics, but now is really not the time."
"Fine then, Granger, have it your way. You've been promoted. You are now an Investigator, in the Department of Research of Magic."
"What?" Hermione couldn't breathe. That was her dream. She hadn't expected for it to be reality until almost a year later. "Why?"
"Everyone knows it's your aspiration, and even though they tell me you lack some of the actual credentials, they have no doubt that you can do anything and handle what you're given. You are, after all, Hermione Granger." He said with some irony. "The Department has recently let go one of it's few Investigators, and since everyone felt that you would have been there in a another year or so, they've just decided to bump to the date."
"Let go? Why were they let go?" Hermione knew how fierce the competition was in the Department, she knew that nobody who had worked hard enough to get in would do anything to mess it up enough to be fired.
"Let's just say there were some problems with an Associate." Of course. That could really be the only explanation, short of finding someone better. Associates of the DRM were very important. Investigators had to work with Associates to do most of their work. She had known someone would lose their job when she got promoted, but she didn't ever think she'd be promoted early because someone lost their job.
"It was you, wasn't it? He or she had problems with you, didn't they? Big enough problems to be fired, too. Damn, Malfoy."
"That is really none of your concern, but yes, he was fired because of his problems with me. The point is, you have your dream job, ahead of schedule, too. You are to report to the DRM at eight tomorrow, with your things. Sam will show you your office, and you will be expected to start right away. They already have a project for you. It's fresh, something they've just decided to tackle." She waited for him to tell her what it was. He didn't.
"Well, what is it?" she asked in exasperation. She'd almost forgotten she was talking to Malfoy.
"Dark Magic, and everything it entails." He thought she'd be repulsed. He thought she'd be sickened. He thought she'd be wondering if she really wanted the job after all. He thought wrong.
"Really? Oh, God…" she trailed off, lost in her thoughts. Her eyes gleamed with anticipation. She suddenly couldn't wait for tomorrow. Her first project, Dark Magic. Oh, God, she couldn't wait! She wondered briefly if she should really be so excited about this, but decided it didn't matter, because she was anyway. To be able to study it all, learn it all. All of it, all the Dark Magic information the Ministry had at its disposal would be hers. And oh, they must have gotten a damn good Associate. She knew that was the only reason the DRM hadn't gone into Dark Magic before, because there'd really been nobody willing to share that knew enough for him or her to be wanted. She couldn't even begin to guess who her Associate was. But even the excitement of that, of meeting and learning of her Associate, could not begin to equal her absolute rapture toward the subject itself. Hermione tried to stem herself…she didn't want people getting suspicious. After all, it's hardly normal for a perfectly good person, (a Gryffindor, she silently thought) to have such a fevered interest in Dark Magic. She came back to herself, and realized that Malfoy was staring at her in the most peculiar way.
Oh, he had certainly thought wrong. Draco knew it to be true the moment she forgot he was there. He saw the light in her eyes, the burning curiosity that could never have enough to placate it. He was surprised it was there, certainly, when he realized that it was there because she would be working with Dark Magic. She must be horribly fascinated with it, he thought, like people who see car crashes, who want to look away but can't. He saw her come back from her thoughts, saw the questions flitting through her eyes. Personally, he couldn't wait to answer those questions. He wasn't exactly thrilled by the answers themselves, but her reaction to them. He had always loved her reactions, when they came. It was all too often that he saw them shoved down, and was denied the pleasure her anger brought him, denied the glorious look of her when she was riled. Kind of like she had just looked, lost in her thoughts, he realized. Then he noticed her looking strangely at him and schooled his features into a smirk. This was going to be fun.
"Don't you want to know who your Associate is, Granger?"
"You know? Malfoy…what exactly is your relationship with the DRM that you knew enough to be sent to tell me all this? And why, in God's name, did you agree to it? I realize that things have changed a bit from when we were younger, but I always got the impression that you never really did things you weren't forced to do. And I can't think of anyone that could actually force you to do something these days." She sent him a hard look. She wanted to know why he was here, personally here, at eight in the morning on Sunday, interrupting her schedule and breaking her record for avoiding him. He took his time before answering.
"I am an Associate, Granger. I fund the DRM to the point that they can afford to be a little…independent from the Ministry. But come; ask about your Associate. You know you want to!" She sighed. He wasn't going to tell her. Okay, she could deal with that. Really, she could. And she was curious to know who her Associate was.
"Alright, Malfoy. Since you seem so eager to tell me, please do. Who is my Associate?"
"I am."
He reveled in saying the words, watching them fall one by one into her mind. His favorite part came after that, when she got that look. The one she always got in school, when he pushed her past the point of shoving down her reaction. He knew what she was going to do a moment before she did. That was how he managed to avoid her surprisingly good aim with the now empty coffee mug. A second later, she realized what she had done and clapped her hands over her mouth. Oh, Lord, no! her mind screamed. She did not just do that. She did not just throw her second favorite mug at Draco Malfoy. No, she didn't. Oh God. She could not believe that he could still push her far enough that her control snapped. Still, four years after she had become an adult in the wizarding world. He still brought out that side of her. Damn him! Damn him to hell!
"You can see now why no one else wanted to tell you."
"You…You…" she couldn't finish the thought. Forcing herself to collect her mug, she went to the kitchen to fume silently. She hated him! He was the only person on the face of the earth that could make her lose her temper enough to actually resort to physical violence. Sure, Ron, and sometimes Harry, had made her mad enough to spit fire, but she had never been tempted to get physical. Hermione had never hit either one of them, or thrown anything at them. Of course, she hadn't thought about doing either one of those things to Malfoy, she had just done them. Perhaps that was what infuriated her the most. He could make her forget to think. Collecting herself, she went back out to the living room. She found he had started the fire, for though it was still September, and the days were warm, the mornings were chilly. Silently, she sat in her father's chair and just looked at him. The man who could make her forget to think in anger. She wondered briefly why that was, and then decided to stop dwelling on it. After all, it wouldn't do any good.
"Well…I guess you've accomplished what you came for, didn't you?" Hermione wasn't stupid enough to think he hadn't done it without purpose.
"Yes, I guess I did." They went back to looking at each other, both thinking about the other. Hermione wished he would leave already. He had, after all, done what he came to do. And yet…he wasn't moving. Hermione wasn't impolite enough to ask him to leave. Meanwhile, Draco was wishing he could've taken a picture of her like that. Watch over and over as that look came across her face. He knew he should probably leave. Their business, after all, was through. But…
"Granger, what're you doing today?"
"Nothing." She regretted it immediately. She wished reverently that she had thought to lie to him. Because coming from him, that question could be nothing good.
"Good. I'll pick you up at eight for supper. We'll eat and talk about our business future. It'll save you time tomorrow."
"What? Oh, no, I don't think so. It really wouldn't-"
"Come now, Granger. Just dress casual and be ready at eight."
"Malfoy, I said no."
"Yes, I do recall that. And I said I'll pick you up at eight." He got up and walked to the door. She scoffed and followed him.
"If you think that you can just-" He cut her off again and opened the door.
"Granger, its just dinner. We haven't spoken in years. We're sure to have a long future together because of your project. Do you really want to annoy the Associate that had another Investigator fired?" He smiled, because he knew she'd take no chances with her career. He was right.
"Fine then, practically blackmail me, why don't you? Goodbye Malfoy."
She shut the door in his face. If he really thought she'd be ready at eight, he had another thing coming. She went to her bedroom to get a book and came out to get some more coffee before sitting once again by the fire. Not wanting to think about the whole thing for a little bit, Hermione had pulled out one of her favorites. Three hours later, she was done with the book and hungry. Deciding to go out to lunch, she smacked some lip-gloss on, grabbed her small purse, and redid her hair to make it tighter. She was halfway though her lunch at a small café when she realized that it'd been a month since she had bought any books. She had, of course, stopped in occasionally, because she really couldn't help herself. However, this time she only had two books being held for her, as opposed to the six it had been last month. That also meant she could browse around for more. Hermione decided that days got better as they went on.
Stepping inside the lovely bookshop that was her favorite, she completely forgot about everything else, just as she always had.
I've been trying to make the chapters a little longer. Let me know how I'm doing, 'kay?