A/N: Whoa whoa whoa. A decidedly divisive chapter we just had! Lots of great opinions out there and lots of great reviews. So I present you with a nice, long, action packed start to your week. :)

Love to everyone and I hope this starts your week off right.

Hermione wished she'd left The Wall up.

She'd finally gotten around to vanishing all the scribbled words just before Christmas, so her room was a blank slate again.

But she really would have appreciated a timeline right about now.

Draco had come into Cornerstone with the werewolf portfolio the first weekend of December, but before that, they hadn't spoken to each other in nearly two weeks – since the Marcus Flint incident.

Hermione frowned at her blank wall. Something must have shifted then. Something must have gone wrong if he had sacrificed his pride to come to her. He had freely admitted that he'd come to Cornerstone to ask her a favor.

Favors, she didn't mind giving. Manipulative publicity, she had a problem with.

Something tugged at her mind…. Something happened with Noelle and her father. And whatever it was, it happened before Draco asked Hermione to write to Quentin Margolis and before he'd started using her name to gather employees and clients.

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek. Draco had been very clear that she was not to write to Noelle….

So thirty minutes later, letter to Noelle off with an owl, she sat on the edge of her bed, kicked off her kitten heels and removed her jacket. Hermione dug into her bag to look through the portfolio Walter had drafted for her that day.

Walter was delightfully intuitive, Hermione had found. He'd knocked on her closed door that afternoon, finding her with her head in her hands, and had brought in every piece of fan mail and love letter she'd received thus far this week.

"Whenever my wife is having a bad week, I scramble together all the embarrassing poetry I wrote her at Hogwarts and all her N.E.W.T scores," he had said, shrugging.

Hermione had laughed. "Poetry?"

"Yes, during Professor Bins' class."

"Of course."

He had also brought in the Golden Snidget portfolio he'd been working on, and excused himself to let her read through her pile.

She had young business women writing to her for advice and thanking her for paving the way. She had war veterans penning letters of encouragement and praise. And one letter from a thirteen-year-old girl at Ilvermorny. She wanted Hermione's advice on a niffler she'd found in the trophy room that she wanted to keep as a pet. She also ended the letter with a request for Hermione's advice on how to respond to her classmates' teasing.

By the time she headed home for the day, Hermione had gotten a handle on her feelings about the situation.

She wasn't going to quit. That would be career suicide at this point, and she quite enjoyed what it was that she was doing at M.C.G. She enjoyed the possibilities. But she was going to let Draco know that she knew what was going on, and she didn't appreciate it.

And she would do it calmly.

She hoped.

By ten o'clock Thursday morning, she had worked herself up to speak with Draco. She would be direct and concise and honest.

She walked the floor to his office, and found the door closed. It was rarely closed, so he must have been in a meeting. As she approached to ask his assistant when she thought he'd be free, the door opened.

Pansy stepped out. Hermione blinked at her, confused. Pansy smiled.

"Hermione, dear!" She looked her up and down, assessing the outfit for today. "Wonderful, I was just coming to see you."

Hermione smiled and said something polite, all the while distracted by Draco having a closed-door meeting with Pansy. Draco appeared in the doorway, slipping on his jacket.

He met her eyes. For a moment she was fifteen, watching Draco and Pansy disappear behind a tapestry on her way back from the library.

She shook her head, finding the entire situation unwarranted. Pansy looked pristine, not a hair out of place, not a smudge on her lipstick. Just because Draco was dressing himself in his outer layer didn't mean that they had just…

"Did you want me?" Draco's eyes burned into her. She almost laughed out loud at the unintended double entendre.

"I, er – No, not if you're just on your way out."

"I am." He checked his timepiece. "I have a meeting followed by a meeting. Er, actually if you're available for lunch, my client would like to meet you." He pushed his hair out of his face, and grabbed a folder from his assistant. "One of the Honeydukes sellers is suing Honeydukes, and is quite the fan of yours." He looked at the folder.

She frowned. Well, if this wasn't the exact problem…

"No. I'm not free." Her voice was a bit firm. She could tell from the way Pansy's eyebrow twitched.

"Alright." He studied her. He excused himself and headed for the lifts.

Pansy turned to her. "Let's talk Witch Weekly! They'll be here on Monday for pictures and an interview." Pansy linked their arms, like they were old friends.

"Yes, let's talk. I'd like very much to not be in green for this shoot." Hermione shot her a glance.

Pansy raised her brows. "Really?" She smirked. "So Gryffindor red?"

"Just not Slytherin green." Hermione raised a brow back.

She sat down with Corban on Friday to discuss the werewolf case. There was still a lot to be done, even without Quentin Margolis and the North Forest Pack, but not having their support put a bit of a damper on things.

Corban helped outline the legal aspects of the next few months, and the two of them worked on the opening statement for the first day in the Wizengamot in March. Corban was just telling her a story about the strangest day he'd ever had in the courtrooms when Draco knocked on the doorframe.

She looked up at him, still smiling at Corban's story. He looked between the two of them.

"Hartford." He nodded to Corban.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy." Corban's voice was still cheery from his story.

"How's the opening statement?"

"We're almost done with it, and then I'll send it over to you for review."

"Excellent." Draco looked to her, jaw tight. "Granger, a Mr. Townsend is very interested in the Werewolf Policy." He looked down at the letter he was holding. "He wants to have dinner with us next week to talk about financial support."

He walked it to her desk and she took it from him. "Oh, that's wonderful."

"Tuesday at seven," Malfoy said. He looked between them both, and turned to leave.

Hermione was too busy scanning the letter to hear him. Once his words sunk in she jumped. Madame Michele!

"Oh, I –" But he was turning out the door. "Excuse me," she said to Corban, jumping up and racing after Draco.

"Malfoy." She stopped in the doorway, hand on the frame. He turned. "I – I can't do seven on Tuesday." He stared at her and she felt anxious. "I have … I have a thing."

"Can't you reschedule?" His stare was firm but inquisitive.

"No, I really can't." She looked away from him and toward her doorframe, trying to find a reasonable excuse. "Er… it's … I have this…"

She looked back up at him and it seemed he had followed her eyes as she looked away from him. He stared a hole into her wall, right to where Corban was sitting patiently in her office. His eyes snapped back to her, dark.

He stepped toward her. "If you are postponing this very important meeting for something non-essential, I would question your priorities Granger," he whispered. They were steps away from Walter and a few other workers. He stopped in front of her. "I'd hate to think that you'd prioritize a date above your Werewolf Policy."

She blinked at him. A date? With Corban? That was a leap…

"I don't have a date," she hissed. "And even if I did, if I say I'm unavailable for a meeting, I'm unavailable for a meeting, Malfoy." She narrowed her eyes at him. His burned into hers.

"Fine." He bit out. "I'll ask to reschedule." He turned.

"Wednesday is best for me. I'm unavailable Thursday, as well." She crossed her arms.

"Wednesday is not good for me," Draco began.

"Oh, Malfoy, I'd hate to hear that you'd prioritize a date above your company," she hissed. She rolled her eyes and returned to her office, listening to Draco huff.

She'd managed to piss Draco off again later that afternoon. It was a wonderful day.

While she still needed to speak with him regarding his treatment of her and her name, she couldn't help but smirk and bat her eyes at him when his jaw clenched and he scowled at her again.

A wonderful day indeed.

She was balancing the ledger at Cornerstone on Saturday morning while reading through one of the new releases that had been shipped over. Corban said the author was one of his favorites, but she wasn't fully invested yet. At one hundred pages in, that wasn't a good sign.

"I thought you quit this job."

Hermione's eyes snapped up from the novel to see Draco standing a few feet from the register. His face was cold and his eyebrow lifted at her. She hadn't even heard the door open.

"No. Should I have?" she said.

He frowned at her and leaned forward onto the counter. "Yes."

Hermione looked into his grey eyes and felt cold. She felt very silly for being caught reading on her shift, so she picked up several books to refile and started for the stacks to the left.

"I suppose I didn't find a logical reason to leave," she said. "You know me. Only 'logical' thoughts in here." She tapped her head with a grin, quoting his "favorite thing about her" and disappeared behind the bookshelf. She heard him follow her, as she knew he would.

She pushed several books to one side on a shelf just above her head as he appeared around the corner. She ignored him. He leaned his shoulder against the stacks and crossed his arms.

"You'll need to put in your two weeks' notice today."

Hermione finished pushing a book into place and looked at him over her extended right arm. "I'll need a better reason than 'because I said so,' Mr. Malfoy," she scoffed.

"You signed a Conflict of Interest Clause."

She paused mid-reach. "Conflict of Interest? How in Merlin's name is a bookshop conflicting with a multimillion galleon organization like Malfoy Consulting Group?" She shook her head at him and moved to her left a few paces to file a large red tome on the third shelf. He followed, standing directly behind her as she faced the shelf.

"This is a public place of business," he said. His voice washed over her right shoulder. It was unnerving to not see him, but feel and hear him. "Any one of our competitors could enter, start a friendly conversation and ask you about your position at Malfoy Consulting. Or worse, the press."

Hermione pursed her lips and sucked in a breath through her nose.

"Besides," he continued. "You have a contract with Pansy. If the wrong person saw what you wear to this bookstore on the weekends, you'd be jeopardizing her career as well as your image."

This spun her around. "And what exactly is wrong with what I'm wearing?"

He sneered at her. "Muggle jeans and a scrap of cotton that barely covers you? It's hardly the epitome of the Modern Business Witch."

Hermione's mouth opened to retort, but anger tightened her throat. She didn't dare look down at herself, but she knew that the t-shirt she had on was not revealing in the slightest. She took a moment to take stock and felt the cotton material against her low back and belly, and knew that it was pulled down far enough. She couldn't stop herself when she pulled the last book she was holding toward her chest, like a shield.

"This is what I wear on the weekends Malfoy. I don't see why—"

"I'll have to have Pansy make you a weekend line, then. Because this," he looked her up and down, "is disgraceful."

Hermione scoffed. Her nostrils flared. "You will do no such thing. You are in charge of me Monday through Friday, Malfoy. Saturday and Sunday are my days off to do with as I please. I will work at this bookstore as long as I please."

He leaned into her, placing his right hand next to her head on the shelf. Her face was so warm and now he was closing off the rest of the cool air.

"I don't need people gossiping that I cannot pay my staff, Granger. If the world hears that Hermione Granger, Golden Girl," he grinned at her and she scowled, "and Malfoy Consulting's highest profile consultant, still works at her part-time job, they will assume you are not paid enough."

"Then I will set them straight when the reporters descend upon Cornerstone Books!" She rolled her eyes at him and stepped to her right to escape. His left arm came up, bracing on the third shelf and her ribs just grazed his arm before she stopped herself. He stepped closer and she felt the shelves creating indents across her back.

"For as long as you are employed by Malfoy Consulting, Granger, you will behave and dress as such. If you would like to go back to working as a Ministry dreg, filing reports and failing to create lasting change for your blessed creatures, be my guest," he said, his breath ghosting over her face.

How dare he. He was starting to sound like his father…

"I am only 'employed' Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, Malfoy. I am free—"

"Oh, I must have missed your resignation on Friday afternoons, followed by your application on Monday mornings then."

"I am only paid Monday through Friday. You can only control my whereabouts Monday through Friday."

"And what would it cost to control your Saturdays and Sundays then, Granger?" He quirked his brow at her and sucked in a lungful of air before continuing. "I'm sure I could more than cover the salary you make here."

She opened her mouth and closed it. She wasn't breathing. The heat from his body was suffocating her and she could feel her skin vibrating and her spine aching against the shelves. She chuckled in a way she hoped was condescending.

"I don't need more money, Malfoy –"

"Then what is it that you do need?" His eyes flashed at her and his voice was hot against her mouth. A lock of blond had fallen across his forehead.

Her lips were dry and her eyes burned as they moved back and forth between his. She released a shaky breath and gasped in the air she could find. His face consumed her field of vision, and she watched as the corner of his mouth twitched upward and his eyes flit toward her lips.

"Hermione? Hello?" Harry's voice called from the front of the shop.

Hermione closed her eyes and filled her lungs. Her eyes opened to see Draco straightening and stepping back from her. He kept his arms engulfing her, so she quickly stepped underneath the arm at head level, patted down her t-shirt and rounded the corner.

"Harry, hi," she said. He turned from the counter. "I was sorting books."

"Hey! I was coming to see if you wanted to grab lunch with Ginny and me." Harry smiled at her, then his eyes slid over her shoulder and she knew that Draco had appeared. She watched as Harry looked back and forth between the two of them, taking in Hermione's flushed face. She didn't dare look at Draco.

"I don't know, Harry," Hermione said. She moved toward the counter and began to keep her hands busy. "You'll have to ask my boss." She shot him a look and Draco scowled at her.

"Uh… yeah. Malfoy would you like to join the three of us?

Hermione snapped the quill in her hand.

"Oh, no," she said. "Malfoy is spending the whole day checking in on his Senior Consultants. He's booked." She slammed a volume down on the counter.

"I should be finished breaking up Wentworth's Wizard's Chest tournament by one," he drawled. Hermione clenched her jaw.

"Great." Harry looked like he wanted to just get out of the bookshop as soon as possible. "So I'll see you both at Fortescue's at one?"

"Sounds perfect," Draco responded, directing his attention to Hermione. She huffed.

"Harry, what's the dress code for this lunch? Should I run home first and throw on something a bit more pure-blood?" She kept her eyes trained on Harry, narrowing them and sneering like she was speaking to Draco.

"Er… No. I think what you're wearing is fine. If you're comfortable," Harry said. Hermione turned to smirk at Draco. Harry continued, "I mean, do you have jeans without tears in the knees?"

Hermione's jaw dropped and she heard Draco chuckle. She turned to him and his face was split in a huge grin.

"Thank you, Potter. For everything. I'll see you all over there." Draco reached across her to grab one of his damn mints and left smirking.

Hermione headed over to Fortescue's scowling. It struck her as she was leaving that she could possibly be photographed again today, and if so, she would wish that she'd worn different clothes. Not that she'd led Draco know that.

Harry and Ginny had chosen a table a bit further away from prying eyes, thankfully. Draco was just arriving at the same time, so he held the gate open for her with a smirk and she glared at him.

After a bit of small talk, Harry and Draco went inside to the counter to order for them.

Ginny turned to her. "What in Merlin's name has got you in such a mood today!"

Hermione sighed and shook her head. "Malfoy stopped by Cornerstone to insult my clothes."

Ginny gasped. "Not Pansy's clothes!"

"No, no. My clothes. These clothes." She gestured down to herself. "He's upset that I'm still working at Cornerstone, and he thinks I shouldn't be seen in such disgraceful weekend clothes." She sipped her water glass. "Then he offered to pay me more so I would wear better clothes on the weekends."

"Did he use the word 'disgraceful?'"

"Yes."

Ginny was quiet. Hermione took her eyes off the street and found Ginny smiling into her cup of tea.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"It's just…" Ginny laughed. She turned to her. "Hermione. I was six when I saw a Muggle girl for the first time. She was wearing the tightest pants I'd ever seen and a t-shirt that showed off her shoulders." She smiled. "I asked my mum if she was a sex worker."

Hermione laughed. "Okay… At six?"

Ginny waved her hand. "I had all older brothers, so I unfortunately heard things… I'm just saying… Muggle fashion doesn't come easy to pure-bloods. It's very difficult to understand when all you're used to is baggy wizarding robes."

"So I look like a prostitute to him?" Hermione raised a brow at Ginny.

"No, no!" Ginny laughed. "I'm just saying… your jeans are awfully tight… to a pure-blood." She grinned. "Which isn't the worst thing in the world." Ginny winked. Hermione frowned.

She heard Harry's laugh and turned to find the boys returning. Hermione was so curious every time Harry laughed at something Draco said. It was unnatural.

Draco placed a cup of coffee in front of her and Harry set their number down on their table.

Once Ginny started small talk with Draco about M.C.G., Hermione had a moment to examine them, struck by how this "double-date" looked. She was suddenly very conscious of Draco sitting on her right, Ginny across from her, and Harry to her left. A perfect little picture.

She shifted in her chair, pressing her lips together and reached for her coffee cup, trying to pick up the saucer with the cup like Madame Michele had taught her. Ginny and Harry were telling Draco a story she already knew, so she tuned them out, setting her saucer down. She looked up to Draco, and he was watching her.

She looked away and crossed her arms over her thin cotton shirt.

Hermione received an owl Sunday night from Pansy, requesting that Tracey and Daphne prepare her for her photoshoot at the office the next day. They would be doing several poses, backgrounds, and wardrobe changes throughout the morning, and it would be best to set up in the vacant office next door to hers, seeing as her office was to be the backdrop of the photoshoot.

Hermione was quite exhausted going into the next morning. She dreaded this entire publicity thing, and she hoped she'd be done with it after this Witch Weekly article.

She reminded herself that this article was not about M.C.G., it was about her. She could focus the interview on how she was going to affect the wizarding world with the major policy changes. Publicity for the Werewolf Policy and her upcoming projects was perfectly fine. Publicity for Draco Malfoy and his damaged reputation was not.

She arrived at 7AM Monday morning, and found that Pansy was already set up in the office next to hers. She had conjured a changing curtain for Hermione to get dressed behind, and the rack of clothes she'd brought in for the shoot.

Hermione's jaw dropped at the rack. The fabrics and colors screamed elevated fashion. And Hermione couldn't help but notice that there wasn't a scrap of green to be found.

"Pansy…" She couldn't take her eyes off the rack.

"I know," Pansy said, coming to stand by her. "I'm good, aren't I?" She grabbed a dress off the rack. "Try this on. I want to fit it to you before they arrive."

It was a light blue with silver lace laid on top. Something was vaguely familiar about it. Hermione took it from her and stared at it.

"It's based off your Yule Ball dress."

Hermione looked up to find Pansy smirking at her. "Really?"

"Well, you said no green, so I was stuck with so many colors that I hate." Pansy rolled her eyes and shoved her behind the changing curtain.

She began taking off the simple, but professional clothes she had worn in. She was just slipping on the periwinkle dress, when she heard a knock on the door.

"All good here?" Draco's voice.

"Yes, darling," Pansy replied.

"Granger here yet?"

"I'm here," she said. She stepped out from behind the changing curtain, and looked to Pansy. Pansy gasped and danced over to her, to help button the back.

She moved her hair over her shoulder and looked up at Draco in the doorway, suddenly very self-conscious that she didn't have shoes on.

He was looking at the dress with a tight jaw. He hated it. She narrowed her eyes at him. His eyes found hers after taking in the dress, and he blinked, turning away, like he'd been caught.

"Let me know if you need anything," he said. He looked at the doorframe of the office, keeping his eyes off of her. "We've postponed the Monday morning meeting until eleven, to give you enough time with Witch Weekly."

That was perfect, actually. Harry was meeting her for lunch at noon.

"Alright, thank you."

He glanced at her swiftly and left. Only then did Hermione realize that Pansy was finishing the last of the buttons, and Draco had essentially just watched her "get dressed." That's why he'd looked away.

She blushed and tried to focus on what Pansy was telling her to do.

"Oh, I hope they pick this one for the cover." Pansy pulled at the fabric with her hands and held her wand in between her teeth in a very un-ladylike way that Hermione found functional and hilarious.

"I love it. I can't even see myself in it and I love it."

Pansy wandlessly conjured a full-length mirror, and then went back to tugging at the embroidery. Impressive.

Even without hair and makeup done, Hermione looked like a queen. She giggled. And Pansy smiled up at her.

"I do love it," Hermione said.

"I love it, too."

"Malfoy didn't." Hermione chuckled.

"Are you kidding? He adored it."

Hermione looked down at her. Pansy was aiming her wand at the seams, but she looked to be speaking honestly.

After they'd fit that dress to her, Pansy had her try on a few that were slightly more "Modern Business Witch" than Fairy Princess.

She was just stepping into heels to match a deep red dress with extra fabric that seemed to be for aesthetic purposes, instead of function, when Blaise leaned in the door, sipping from a mug.

"The Gryffindor Queen has returned." He smirked. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Lovely work, Pans."

"Thank you, dear." Pansy ignored his presence after that.

"Do we need any help with zippers or buttons, or anything?" He smiled and Hermione shook her head at him, hiding her grin.

"Blaise, darling," Pansy said. "Do fuck off."

Hermione smiled. Blaise pursed his lips, holding back a smile, and was about to say something back when Tracey and Daphne pushed through the door. Tracey muttered an "excuse me" and continued in, but Daphne stood, waiting for Blaise to move for her.

Hermione watched as the smile dropped off his face. His jaw tightened as he moved out of her way, and continued on. Daphne frowned at his retreating back and then finally entered.

Before she had any time to think on that interaction, Pansy was unbuttoning her, and conjuring a bathrobe for her to sit in while they did her hair and makeup.

While Daphne layered on her face, and Tracey started twisting her hair into a complex style, Hermione asked if Walter could bring her work to do. She felt very foolish getting paid to sit and have her hair and makeup done.

People kept walking by the open door, and after seeing Draco across the way for the third time, she finally asked Pansy to shut the door.

Pansy was in and out for the hour. She was a restless person, Hermione realized, and she couldn't sit and just chat. She needed to be constantly in motion.

She'd been gone for ten minutes or so when she came back in, face set.

"Alright," Pansy said, rounding Hermione's chair and examining her. "We are doing Hermione's hair down today."

Tracey scoffed. "You're joking."

"Not at all." Pansy pursed her lips.

Tracey threw down the pin she was placing in Hermione's hair. She'd just spent thirty minutes on this lovely, complicated style and now she had to take it out because… because why?

"Is Witch Weekly here?"

"No, not yet."

"So who wants it down?"

Pansy batted her eyes at her. "Draco suggested –"

"Oh, no thanks." Hermione sneered. "Tracey, please keep going." She folded her arms and set her stare.

Pansy and Tracey looked back and forth between each other. Daphne smirked into her makeup palette.

"Er… I think what Draco means, is that you should look a bit more like the Hermione Granger we all know for this photoshoot. I agree with him a bit –"

"But this was Tracey's design for this shoot." Hermione raised a brow. "And it's lovely."

Tracey blinked. Pansy's lips pulled into a grin that she suppressed. "Well, how's about we compromise. Do half up, half down?"

Hermione stood, tossing her notes across the room. "If you're too afraid to stand up to that entitled git, then allow me." She strode to the office door, threw it open and marched out in her bathrobe, barefoot, face half made.

She ignored the stares and open mouths as she made her way to the office at the opposite corner of the building. Draco's door was open, so she didn't even knock. She turned into the doorway and found him reading something intently behind his desk.

"This is the hairstyle for the photoshoot today." She gesticulated wildly to her head, and he looked up at her. He blinked and his eyes took her in from the top of her head to her bare feet. "Didn't know it needed to be cleared with you, but this is it. "

"Did you really just parade through the office in a bathrobe?" He lifted a brow at her.

"Yes. Yes, I did." She placed her hands on her hips. "And I'm thinking about doing it more often because it's damn comfortable. And the next time you have input on my hair or my clothing, keep it to yourself."

She turned to march out and he threw his reading onto his desk, standing.

"Granger, what is wrong with you?"

"Wrong with me?" she hissed. "Nothing is wrong with me. I'm trying to do my photoshoot this morning."

"In my office, so calm down!"

"Actually, the photoshoot is in my office –"

"That I paid for!" He yelled.

She stamped her foot and pressed her lips together, keeping any quippy remarks about how she actually was the one paying for this office by securing his inheritance!

"I don't understand why you are allowed to have any opinion on my hair for my photoshoot!"

"It was a suggestion –"

"Keep them to yourself!"

He walked around the desk. "What is going on with you?"

"Nothing is 'going on' with me—"

"You've been acting like a bitch for days!"

She gasped. "Maybe I've just realized that you've been a dick for months!"

He scowled at her and she could feel her breath coming in uneven gasps.

"Hi, hey," a tentative voice said, and Hermione turned to see Blaise leaning into the doorway with wide eyes. "I'm just gonna close this door…" He reached for the handle slowly. "And silence the room, okay?" He looked between them both. "Something one of you should have done already," he said, like addressing children.

"Don't bother," Hermione said. "I'm done here."

"Granger –"

She waved him off and pushed past Blaise, ignoring the stares of the entire floor as she marched past them back into the office with Pansy and the girls.

"Alright," she said. "Tracey, continue."

Tracey raised her brows. Pansy turned away, smiling.

Hermione was exhausted by the end of the interview with Witch Weekly. She had worked so hard to keep the questions away from the vapid silliness of the magazine, but it was so difficult. She had managed to promote the work on the Werewolf Policy, and place a few suggestions on where she thought house-elf rights were headed, but primarily she had to discuss why her favorite color was blue, and what her favorite subject in school was.

The photographer got some lovely shots of her in her office, at her bookshelf and behind her desk. Pansy's clothes were a hit, and they fell head-over-heels for the periwinkle dress. Hermione found time to mention to the interviewer how much she appreciated the Parkinson line for its blend of the Muggle and the Magical, and Pansy smirked at her.

It was five past eleven when they finished with her. She ran to the board room, still in the periwinkle dress and heels, and apologized when she interrupted Draco in the middle of his opening. She then had to walk all the way around the table to Draco's left.

"You look lovely, young lady," Mockridge said as she passed. She blushed.

"Oh, thank you." She looked up at Draco. "Please, go on."

He was looking down at the table. He swallowed.

Draco continued, outlining that week's goals. There would be interviews that week for the Wizengamot Relations position, and Draco hoped to have it filled by the following week. Wentworth updated them with his success with the Diagon Alley businesses. He would be dealing with corporate restructuring for several of the chain locations, which made Hermione wonder if George would be interested in any assistance like that. She'd have to ask him.

When it came around the table to her, she updated them on the Werewolf Policy and then handed out a packet to everyone on the Golden Snidget project she was passionate about. It didn't bother her one bit that no one else prepared packets for this meeting.

"Essentially, the Snidget Sanctuary in Somerset is requesting our help. The breeding rates have dramatically decreased this season, and the Snidgets in the Sanctuary aren't living long. They want to be able to release Golden Snidgets into the wild, and to have the crime of poaching Snidgets or using them in unofficial Quidditch matches increased to a felony charge."

She looked around the table as they flipped through her paperwork. Draco's jaw clicked.

"This is an excellent project. I'd say you can start on this next quarter, once the Werewolf Policy is underway."

She blinked. He kept his eyes on her paperwork.

"Respectfully, I'd like to begin now. The species is almost extinct as it is."

"Do you have a client who will pay consulting fees or would this project need to be fundraised?" He looked up at her, and his eyes were unreadable.

"It would need to be fundraised. The Sanctuary did not indicate that they would be able to pay –"

"I want to make sure the Werewolf Policy is fully funded before you start other projects that also need fundraising."

She scowled at him. "I can multitask, Malfoy."

"But would it be beneficial to both projects to have your focus split?"

Her face was heating, and she felt all eyes in the room on her. She took a breath to bite back at him, and he cut her off.

"Like I said, an excellent project for April. We can send you and Walter out to Somerset in March to start collecting data." Draco stood, and buttoned his robes. "Thank you for your time. Dismissed."

She could feel her blood boiling. She turned and stomped her way out of the conference room, muttering, "Bloody idiot."

Hermione couldn't remember the trip back to her office, but it was clipped. She stormed through the half empty desks of her team, watching as people jumped out of her way, all the while ignoring the click of dragon leather about ten paces behind her.

She wandlessly shoved the door to her office open and once through, tried to slam it shut. She heard the door hit Draco on his way in and almost smiled.

"Granger-"

"Why am I even here, Malfoy?" She rounded on him. He closed the door to her office while keeping his eyes on her. His jaw tight. She continued, "You told me you wanted to 'make a difference' and 'change the world.' What utter hogwash."

She turned from him and stomped to her desk.

"Like I said, Granger, it isn't in the budget for this quarter, but starting in April –"

"What bullshit!" She turned from her path to her desk, retracing her steps back to him in the center of her office. She tried not to use such Muggle phrases around pure-bloods, as they usually did not pick up on the sentiment, but her mouth was moving faster than her brain as her blood pumped through her like a dam had been released. "By April the species could be extinct!"

"That's an exaggeration." He placed his hands in his trouser pockets and leaned back on his heels. He frowned at her, looking the picture of nonchalance, but his tense jaw gave him away. "You'll be able to accomplish just as much in two months with a much larger budget –"

"Are you punishing me?" She placed her hands on her hips and raised her brows at him. She must thank Pansy later for today's heels as they gave her much needed leverage in height.

"Punishing you?"

"Yes, because I haven't quit Cornerstone?"

His eyes flashed at her.

"Or maybe because my weekend clothing is unsuitable to you? If I allowed you to 'own' my weekends, like you asked, would the Snidgets have a fighting chance?" she screeched.

"Granger." He stepped into her, like she was a feral cat that he was cornering.

"Why am I even here Malfoy?!" She couldn't bring her volume down as much as she tried. She knew she looked crazed, and her hair was falling out of the beautiful twist Tracey had pulled it into. "At Malfoy Consulting?"

"I wanted the best –"

"You said everyone needed a second chance, but I guess you weren't talking about magical creatures. You were talking about the Malfoy family and their reputation." She shoved her finger into his chest in a move she found particularly childish, but she couldn't be bothered to care. He stood very still and did not even sway from the force of her push, which aggravated her further.

"Watch your tone, Granger," he grit out, nostrils flaring. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and clenched his fists at his sides.

She persisted. "I'm glad I could really 'round' out your senior staff, Malfoy. My god, without me you wouldn't have made your Mudblood quota." His head twitched to the side so slightly. "How would you have ever changed public opinion of the Malfoy family without one? Isn't that right?"

He narrowed his eyes at her and she knew she was in dangerous waters. She was overstepping the line but she couldn't stop. She started a small pace back and forth, for show.

"Or possibly I am here to be the female member of the Group. Couldn't truly operate without one of those, what with all the pesky equality laws the Ministry has been putting into place –"

"Stop," he cautioned. She saw the tension ripple through his forearms, up his shoulder blades. "Stop there, Granger."

"No, thanks," she quipped. "I'm not quite done." She stopped her pacing and planted herself not two steps from him. "I'm assuming that the most important quality that I bring to this team, seeing as it clearly has nothing to do with my relationship with the magical creature community, is that I am Hermione Granger, Golden Girl," she spat at him. "Were you hoping I'd spread a bit of that golden dust around, Malfoy? I admit, it makes for excellent photo shoots with your pal Skeeter!"

She shoved his chest with her hands. He was so stiff she wanted to move him somehow. Make him fight her. Of course, he did not even sway, but she did see that his breath was uneven now. Good.

"Is that it, Malfoy?" she continued. "Is it nice having the Golden Girl to show off, to headline your Daily Prophet articles? Well if it's not my blood status or my gender, it must be my celebrity." She pushed his chest again, and again nothing changed. She could feel everything rushing inside of her body, waiting for him to break her.

"Or maybe," she snarled, "I'm only here to play dress up with Pansy! Is that it, Malfoy? Giving a doll to your fucking girlfriend?"

Her right hand shoved his chest as hard as she could and she realized her eyes were blurring. Before she could pull her hand off of him, his snapped up and grabbed her wrist, holding it between them, so tight it might snap.

He lowered his head to hers, sent fire into her eyes and hissed, "Don't. Touch me."

She glared into his face, took her left hand and slapped his chest with it.

His free hand shot up, grabbed the back of her head, and pulled her face to his. And he kissed her.

And she was immobilized. Eyes open. A groan poured from his throat into her lips.

Her wrist in his hand, her head tilted up, and her breath lost. He placed open-mouth kisses against her lips, peppering her, and his breath hot.

He was kissing her. And she was doing nothing. She gasped at the realization, and his fingers dug into her twisted hair, tilting her head so he could taste her.

She closed her eyes, swaying into him as he attacked her mouth, gasping for air. His fingers were still so tight on her wrist and her left hand was stuck between them on his chest. She curled her fingers on his shirt and he gasped. She tried chasing his mouth, letting her tongue taste him.

He stepped into her, and she had to step back before she toppled. His hand still caught in her complicated hair, he pulled her head back gently, leading her backwards.

His mouth left hers briefly and she almost opened her eyes to ask him what was happening, but he heaved a breath in, throat clicking around the air, before attaching to her again. He kissed the side of her mouth, moving his lips across hers in small movements. She was burning. She couldn't wait for him to take her again. She was forced to step back again.

Her backside hit the edge of her desk and his body pressed into hers. He was solid and warm. He was attacking her mouth again and spinning the most delicious sounds into her. She felt him take the hand on his chest and then place both hands behind her on the desk. She leaned backwards into them, and his hands smoothed across hers, planting them down, keeping them from moving. She wanted to move them. She wanted to touch him anywhere. Feel his chest, run up his arms, and oh how she wanted to track her fingers through his hair. But his hands forced hers to stay on the desk. She poured this frustration into his mouth, lapping at him and using her teeth lightly. He groaned and she found her knees being opened. His leg pushed between hers and moved her left knee outwards. He stepped in.

His left hand released her right, after giving a little push, telling her stay there. He carefully placed his hand on her waist. She moaned. He squeezed her lightly.

His tongue was doing such lovely things to her and her breath was coming in gasps in between mouthfuls of him. His body was pressing into hers and pushing her into her desk. She wanted to touch him. She removed her right palm from the desk and brought it up to his jaw, her little fingers on his neck and her thumb near their mouths.

At the contact, he gasped and his left hand slid down to grab her hip, pulling her toward him, connecting them, and his upper body started pushing her backwards.

A knock at the door she barely heard and a "Hermione, you ready-?" was the only warning they had before Harry stepped into the room.

Draco jumped away from her, turning away from the doorway. Hermione straightened and wiped her mouth.

Harry stood with his mouth open mid-word, with his hand still on the door knob. Harry's eyes moved back and forth between the two of them.

"Is it –" she tried. She cleared her throat. "Is it lunch time?"

"Er, yes," Harry said. "But I can come back later."

"No!" Hermione and Draco both said in unison. Draco finally turned to face Harry, tightened his jaw, and said "Potter," as he exited. The air was suddenly lighter.

Harry just stared at her, eyes wide, and a small smile growing on his mouth.

"God, Harry, don't," Hermione said, covering her face with her hands.

"I wasn't going to say anything!" He laughed.

Mwah hahah. ^_^ Photoshoot inspiration on the Pinterest board. Username: Lovesbitca8