AN: While the high spots remain, the story had slipped away from the outline material a long time ago. The details for this chapter were boring and now out of sync with the rest of the story. Almost skipped this chapter, but the characters began to speak up and assert themselves. Maybe my readers will do the same. :)

Thanks for reading.

9. A Touch of This – A Kiss of That

Scenery was ripping past the train windows almost as fast as the memories of her day. The curtain on one scene would fall as the train entered a tunnel only to open to a new one at the end of the blackness. Closing her eyes, memories of her day were moving through her head in much the same way as Hermione took the train home from work.

Thinking back to the scene in the lunchroom, she had acted with professionalism and correctness. She had made it crystal clear to Draco that she was his case officer. She could not go out on a date with him and be his case officer. And Ron – how could she fail to mention him. She couldn't betray the wizard that had asked for her hand, only a few weeks ago.

And the performance report Draco had paid for. Was there anything genuine about this man? Perhaps this was some kind of Slytherin joke – to get out of your work assignments and into the knickers of your case officer. Yes that would be an amusing story to tell your friends at the local pub. Still, there had been something in his eyes that looked real – that lost puppy dog look. Oh well – it was done, she thought as she struggled with the key to open the door to her flat. She had set him straight and that was that. And being resolute with her actions, Hermione fell into her comfortable padded chair, put her head in her hands and cried.

‡‡‡‡‡

"It's done then – you'll take the case over as soon as I clear it with Kingsley," Hermione stated flatly.

"Yeah, sure – if that's what you want to do," Cynthia replied with a rather curious look. "Is this guy some kind of wacko or something?"

"Oh no, it's nothing like that," she said.

"Good, but I had to wonder, you know. I mean going out to lunch with this guy might not be all bad," Cynthia said with a wry grin.

"No, it's not all bad. That's why I'm quitting," she said and Cynthia looked totally confused.

‡‡‡‡‡

Kingsley had thrown a fit:

"But Hermione, you seemed to be making real progress with this case – and now you just want to quit?" he asked.

"Yes sir, I'm afraid so," she said and bowed her head.

"Well, what the hell for? Is he unruly or something – we can fix that," he said reassuringly.

"Oh no sir. It's nothing like that," she said.

"Oh," he said as he looked at Hermione suspiciously. "Well, I don't have to tell you how important this is to the Ministry. We can't afford another generation of pissed-off Malfoys."

"Yes sir."

"I'll consider your request Hermione and we'll talk about this again – okay?" he said firmly.

"Yes sir. Thank you sir."

His note was on her desk the next morning when she arrived at work.

Granger,

Let's make it 'The Palm' on Pont St. at 11:30 on Monday – I think you'll like it.

Tardiness won't be tolerated, so don't be late.

Draco

How on earth does he find the time to come up with all these Muggle restaurants, she wondered as she hid the note in the top drawer of her desk.

On the eve of the luncheon she had trouble getting to sleep and then tossed and turned all night. The alarm clock beside her bed had gone off twice and she finally knocked it in the floor on the last attempt to hit the snooze button. She threw on a fluffy dressing gown and headed toward the shower. The hair was not cooperating this morning. On the third magical enhancement, it finally fell into the pageboy she was accustomed to and was hanging like fine draperies. Winky was already there and she could hear a commotion of some sort going on in the bedroom.

When she came out of the bathroom, she could see Winky had already made up the bed and laid out clothes for her to wear on top of the duvet. Hermione took a quick look at the outfit and decided Winky must be hitting the butterbeer at the castle again. The skirt was a risque affair with a split to mid thigh. The satiny blouse was far too shear for the season. And to top it off, Winky had thrown out skimpy lace pants and a naughty little shelf that Hermione had bought last fall to wear behind a thin sweater. Ron couldn't take his eyes off her chest and she'd hadn't worn it since. Oh well, no harm done, she thought as she went to get something more appropriate from her wardrobe.

"WINKY – what the hell is going on here?" she shouted.

To her shock and amazement the wardrobe and all the drawers were empty. She could hear the slap of elf feet headed to the bedroom.

"Yes Miss – you called Winky?"

"Winky, where are my clothes – my underwear? This will never do," she said pointing to the things on the bed.

"Oh... I'm so sorry Miss, but Winky has all your clothes in the wash," she said with a lugubrious expression.

"You what?" Hermione said, completely at a loss.

"The first Monday of the month is a big wash day Miss and you is well overdue, you are," she said with arms outstretched.

"Oh Winky. Oh no..."

Wrapped up in a long coat, Hermione made her way to the Ministry. She had managed to dry some hosiery but everything else had been sopping wet. Coming into the Ministry building was the last place she wanted to feel slick satiny material from her blouse freely rubbing against her near nakedness. She could feel a draft of cool air through the split skirt. She would quickly pull her robes over the outfit and hopefully the day would end quickly.

She had almost a sick feeling in her stomach when eleven thirty finally rolled around. Peeping out of her office door to make sure no one was coming, she quickly pulled off the robes and grabbed her long coat. Apparating to a place very the near the restaurant, she walked the rest of the way with a snappy cadence on high heels. She flew into the foyer of the restaurant to see Draco pacing the narrow hallway.

"You're late," he said with impatience tugging at his voice.

"Sorry, some last minute things you know."

The maitre d' led them to the table and Draco reached for her chair.

"Can I take your coat?" he asked.

"Uh... well, uh," she stammered almost petrified, but Draco was already pulling the coat off her shoulders before she could respond. She felt naked in this outfit. In the cool air, her nipples were struggling against the sheer blouse. As she sat down it felt like the split skirt opened to the crotch.

"Wow," he said. "Look at you."

"Don't get the wrong idea here – my house-elf pulled these things out this morning and threw the rest of my clothes in the wash," she said, sotto voce.

"Hey, I'm liking your house-elf," he said, staring at her tits.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I think I'll send her over to you."

They talked of silly things like the extremes of street fashions and the price of ice cream. It was about half way through the meal before Draco noticed her leather portfolio was missing.

"No work today?" he asked. "Where's your notebook? I thought you slept with that thing."

"Well, I didn't think I would need it today," she said as she laid down the fork on her plate.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, but I saw your record this week. It looked pretty good – did you actually do some work?" she said with a little smile.

"You're the case officer – what do you think?," he said and went back to the meal. When he noticed Hermione didn't go back to her's, he stopped and looked up.

"You're lunch, is it okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine," she said and paused. "There's been a change in your case."

"Yeah, what kind of change?" he said and looked her coldly in the eyes.

"Cynthia Sickles will be taking over from now on," she replied and dipped her head.

Draco gently laid the silverware on his plate and sat up straight. He had a stunned look about him as he studied Hermione for any explanation.

"I don't think you'll have a problem with her – she's very nice really – a little too talkative sometimes, but actually quite..."

"Goddamn-it Granger – what's this all about?"

She shrugged and looked around at the patrons and at the obvious confinements of their situation. There was a long pause then Draco stood up and threw his serviette on the plate.

"Waiter," he barked, and when he had the man's eye he motioned to the table. "We'll get out of here and talk," he then announced to Hermione. "I need the bill please," he said, redirecting back to the waiter. The young man saw the agitation in Draco's expression and double-timed it back to the table with a small leather bill case with two mints on top. Draco reached in in pocket and handed the young man a large note and then turned toward Hermione. "I'll get your coat."

"I can pay for my own lunch Draco," she said.

"The hell you will – you're not my case officer anymore, so I'm paying for this," he barked.

He returned with her coat and held it as she slid in both arms. Gently, he tapped the shoulders of her coat as a finishing touch and she followed him out to the foyer where they both paused for a few moments before speaking.

"So," he said. "Did Kingsley make this change?"

"No," she said. "I asked for it." He looked up and then around the foyer for a few moments.

"It's because I asked you out – is that it?"

"In part – yes," she said.

Draco shook his head and then looked off and away. He clearly didn't know how to proceed, so he stalled for time.

"I can't take it back," he finally said.

"Take what back," she asked.

"That I asked you out – I'm sorry you're upset about it, but..."

"Draco..."

"But I'm not sorry I asked you out."

"Draco..."

"And two of the problems you mentioned are no longer problems. I've given you an honest work report and you're no longer involved with my case. I can't do anything about Weasley, but I've taken care of my end – and this is what I get," he said, growing agitated again.

It was obvious this wide range of emotions and reactions were not choreographed, rehearsed, or invented. Maybe, just maybe she had finally gotten something real from the blonde wizard.

"Draco..."

"What?" he said.

"You had me at 'I'm sorry'," she said softly. "I can't be your case officer if I go out with you."

You could see the frustration melt away to be replaced with sheepish embarrassment. He had obviously over-reacted, and realizing this, he relaxed a little and nodded. Once again a patch of blonde hair fell down. She immediately stepped up to him and brushed it back.

She chuckled and smiled. "So ease up big guy," she said.

He looked quizzically at the brunette, standing inches away. "You said 'in part'."

"Huh?" she asked, bewildered.

"Earlier – you said 'in part', so what was the other part?"

"Oh... yeah, that... that was me," she said and glanced off so as not to go any further.

He stood motionless and grey eyes gazed into hers for a moment or two. He leaned into her very slowly. When he canted his head slightly she knew she was about to be kissed. She stood receptively and could feel her own lips begin to part when...

There was a bright flash of light – protracted like a reflection from a car mirror but longer. They were both stunned and Hermione looked around to find the source. Standing there, in a subdued form of herself, in a form acceptable for a Muggle restaurant was Rita Skeeter. The flash had been from her magical camera.

‡‡‡‡‡

Hermione entered the Ministry and held the coat tightly together as if her life depended on it. She managed to get back to her office and back into the robes before anyone noticed.

What the hell have I done? I've agreed to a dinner date with Draco Malfoy and Rita Skeeter has us kissing on film.

She had threatened to take Rita's camera but Rita reassured them she had no intention to publish the pictures.

"Now you kiddies – go along and have fun now. This is just for a scrapbook I'm putting together," she said.

Hermione warned her sternly and Rita left just as quickly as she appeared. Still, it was kind of odd, her being there and all, and it seemed to be just one more bizarre thing in a string of crazy occurrences throughout the day.

Draco had stammered and struggled for the words, but finally admitted he had enjoyed their lunches together. He suggested they pick a week night for dinner and they could resume the conversation at that time.

She scribbled her address down on the back of a Ministry business card and gave it to him. The date was on for Thursday night. He would come by her place at seven.