Draco squirmed with impatience, as the clock in his office struck one.

"Steady on," Blaise chastised him as he finished knotting his boss' tie. "You're jumpier than a Vampire in a garlic field." He gave the accessory a final adjusting yank, and then smoothed it down properly. "You'll charm your witch's knickers right off that curvy, sweet arse of hers, so stop worrying."

His Vice-Minister's words gave Draco only a moment's pause. "You know you're a lecherous sod, right?"

Zabini grinned, but didn't bother replying to the accusation that they both knew rang true. "In any case, why are you so nervous? Your father and mother both told me your first meeting with Granger went smashingly, and that they approve, despite the fact she's Muggle-born. You said yourself that you think she's a good fit. And she's agreed to meet with you again – alone, in her office. What more of an opening do you need?"

He cleared his throat. "I've been investigating her some…"

A wicked gleam entered Blaise's eyes. "Polyjuice reconnaissance, hmmm? Finally, I'm rubbing off on you! So, what did you learn? What colour preference does she have for her knickers? I'm betting there are no lacy thongs in her drawer."

Draco glared at him. "Be serious."

"White and pink cotton then, but nothing too skanky. Figures." Zabini sighed with disappointment. "Does she at least have something in a leopard print in her closet – maybe way in the back, hidden?"

"Would you shut it and let me talk?" Draco demanded, slapping Blaise up side the head. "I haven't used anything as juvenile as Polyjuice on myself, especially not to infiltrate her wardrobe."

His companion gave him a knowing smirk and crossed his arms. "So who did you pretend to be by owled note, then? Someone from upper administration running a background check?"

"A reporter from Witch Weekly, actually," Draco admitted. "I Transfigured my Eagle owl to look just like one of their specially bred Barn owls, and hit it with an Untraceable Charm for good measure."

"Clever," his friend nodded to him in praise. "Convince them the messenger is legit, and voila! Unlimited access to information supplied by the gullible and ignorant. Target Weasley then, did you?"

"Potter."

"Ah. And he actually bought it?"

Beaming with arrogant triumph, Draco turned to his coat closet, flipped it open, and took a final look in the floor-to-ceiling mirror that hung on the backside of the door. He brushed down his robes to remove visible specks of lint and neatened his hair one more time. "Of course he did. Hook, line, and sinker."

"We need to hire a new Head Auror," Zabini deadpanned.

"You know, it pains me to admit this, Blaise, but she's grown into quite an extraordinary witch since our school days," he acknowledged, losing a bit of his haughtiness. He fiddled some more with his hair on the left side, not liking the way it lay. "She brought the assemblage to heel in Geneva for a dozen years, and accomplished more than the last four Ministers here in England combined - and she did it all without compromising her integrity. At least, that's what Potter maintained. Flint backed that up when I owled him for confirmation."

"How is our Ambassador to Eastern Europe, anyway? Is Marcus enjoying the finer points of Balkan hospitality?" his companion asked with a wicked snicker.

Draco shrugged. "No doubt. He maintained that there was no dirt to be found on Granger when they'd worked together at the I.C.W. She's as squeaky clean as her teeth. No uncovered attempts at blackmail, no bribery, no using sex as a weapon, no scandals of any kind." He shook his head in amazement. "I still can't figure how she did it all without resorting to such things."

Zabini went to the alcohol caddy and poured himself a drink. "Well, she's always been bright, and she was overly ambitious even at Hogwarts. It seems she's added cunning and subtle manipulation to her repertoire as well."

"But only insofar as it pertains to moral obligations to the underdogs in society – never for personal gain," Draco inserted.

His best friend gave him a knowing smirk. "Yes, well, she already has you seriously considering championing her ideas, not to mention fidgeting in front of your mirror like a peacock in heat, and you only spoke for an hour or so the other day. Did you even notice?" He raised his glass to toast her honour. "A Gryffindor with a Slytherin's sensibilities. I predict you'll fall in love with her within a month." He turned and grinned from ear-to-ear at Draco. "You're doomed, mate."

Draco sighed, fearing there may be some serious truth to his friend's contention. Granger was exactly everything he could want in a wife; she had even grown into her looks. Her blood status wasn't an issue in this case, given the perfection of the rest. Besides, his mum had raved on about her after their meeting, and his father had grudgingly admitted that she was a viable candidate given her political connections and her record. She'd passed the 'parent test,' as well as the 'best friend test'. What more could he ask for?

He checked the clock; it was fifteen past.

"Right, so, I'm going now," he announced, closing his closet door and gathering his valise from the desk. As he opened the door out, he turned to his Vice-Minister with all sincerity. "If I don't make it back, The Chair's all yours, and good luck with it."

"If you don't make it back," Zabini teased, "I'll marry Granger myself. We'll honeymoon in Maui and sip fruity drinks while thinking fondly of you."

Draco shot him a parting two-fingered salute, and closed the door to Blaise's laughter.

Maui. Right.

He'd never been, but damn, the thought of honeymooning with a bikini-clad Granger on white sandy beaches overlooking the Pacific Ocean sounded really good to Draco just then.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Author's Notes:

Another shorter chapter… we're one chapter away from the face-off. What do you think will happen?

Please review!