AN: Thank you to all who reviewed - eight in less than 24 hours is really impressive. Here's the first proper chapter.

It was procedure for newly qualified Aurors to work in pairs. These pairs were assigned when they qualified, and remained the same for a minimum of two years, regardless of how much they hated each other. Hermione Granger should have expected that she'd end up with her worst living enemy (her all-time worst enemy, of course, being Voldemort, but he was dead now). However, since she hadn't given any consideration as to her new partner, she was taken completely by surprise when Draco Malfoy strolled into her new office as though he owned the place, and made himself comfortable at the second desk.

"Please, Malfoy, tell me I didn't end up with you for the next two years."

He smirked at her from across the room. "Sorry to disappoint you, Granger, since I know you were desperate to get the Weasel, but we can't always have what we want, can we?"

That was predictable. Ron had failed the disguises part of the exam, since his polyjuice potion hadn't worked (and she'd refused to slip him a vial of hers), so he was having to repeat a year. Malfoy never passed up an opportunity to insult someone, after all.

"Oh, give it a rest, would you?"

Malfoy's response was to raise one eyebrow. "Whatever you say, Granger."

Groaning, she sorted through the files on her desk, separating them into two piles. Then, she picked one up and passed it to Malfoy. "Those are for you to start researching, while I do the others."

"I'm going to have to handle something your mudblood fingers have touched?"

"Grow up, Malfoy. This isn't Hogwarts any more, it's the real world, so yes, you're going to have to work with mudbloods, me included. Just grow up."

Turning back to her desk, she missed the incredulous look on his face. Mudblood was the worst insult a witch or wizard could use, and she completely ignored it. He knew she was aware of its meaning – there was no possible way she couldn't be.

"Oh, and Malfoy?" He didn't like the overly sweet tone of voice she was using. It sounded dangerous.

"Yes?"

"I wouldn't bother with the word mudblood if I were you. I've heard it far too many times to be insulted by it any longer. Mudblood and proud of it, as I said in the war."

Ah yes, the war. The war that had destroyed Hogwarts, caused chaos in the entire wizarding world, and caused Harry Potter to be elevated to hero status. If "mudblood" didn't bother her any longer, that was fine. He'd just find something else that had the required effect.

………………

In the end, he didn't bother, because they actually made a good team when they managed to stop arguing long enough to work.

Hermione was surprised to find that he was good at his job, and incredibly meticulous with his notes. The amount of background research she did for each case irritated him, though.

"Must we always dig through this much stuff, Granger?"

"You never knew when it could be useful, even vital, to the case."

He sighed, and stuck his nose back in the thick tome he was perusing. Not for long, however.

"Do you research absolutely everything in this much detail?"

"When it could be useful, yes."

He smirked. "You and the Weasel must have some interesting times in the bedroom, in that case."

Something flew across the room, hitting him on the head with deadly accuracy. He didn't realise what it was until he felt the damp patch on his lap – the bitch had thrown her open water bottle at him, and it had all spilled in his lap – on his new robes.

"Damn it, Granger, these are new."

"I couldn't care less about your robes, Malfoy. Must you always ask such crude questions?"

"I was making an observation, actually, not asking a question."

That time, he managed to duck the projectile she launched at him, which crashed into the back wall of the office.

"Rule number one, Malfoy. Keep your mouth shut when it comes to my personal life."

Under threat of having more inanimate objects launched at his person (her hand was hovering dangerously close to her ink bottle), he did, indeed, keep his opinions to himself when it came to Hermione's bedroom tastes. Until, that was, the day she arrived at work late, dishevelled and still visibly crying. This was so out of character that he couldn't resist asking what had happened. It had to be related to Ronald Weasley – nothing else, whatsoever, could reduce Hermione Granger to tears.

"What's he done, Granger?"

Even through floods of tears, she managed to glare at him.

"Come on, Granger. I'm not so much of a monster that you can't tell me."

AN: You know what to do now, if you want to read the next part.