A/N: More than 550 hits! Thank you so much, but remember I don't own these characters – all Jo's.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. So what, she'd demurred his request; that's what he had expected, hadn't he? He rolled his eyes to the fading jade green ceiling of the Malfoy family library, thinking of her. She was his drug, an addiction. The more he envisaged Hermione, the more he hated her. She was everything he despised in a person if not more, so why, why did she plague his thoughts?

He threw his work documents off the new rich oak wood desk and set them aflame. Levitating the documents, he watched the edges of the paper burn, burn like his passion for her. This penchant for Granger would end; it had to! Draco's grip around his wand handle tightened as he angered, and the flame shone a brighter and vivid blood red before extinguishing. The ashes danced around the room.

He tried to think of a reason why her beautiful face danced, like those ashes, in his mind. She was a haunting requiem; a dirge that kept playing like a broken record. He berated himself for thinking of her again and slammed his clenched fist onto the table.

"Fucking Granger."

She troubled him as much as his crazed father did. Yes, Lucius Malfoy had gone positively mad. As much as Draco hated his father – and Malfoy hated him more than anything – he couldn't help but feel sorry for the senile man rotting away in Azkaban.

The first time Draco saw his father, all he saw was the ghost of a man. Lucius Abraxas Malfoy's once shiny grey white hair discolored into a greasy tangle, his eyes were sunk in and void of any emotion. The older Malfoy sat with his knees drawn in, sputtering about Voldermort's return to power and how he'd kill any mudblood in his sight. Whatever robes Draco had sent to Azkaban were discarded in torn shards around the cell.

Clearly, Lucius felt no need to be, well, clothed. Draco had closed his eyes, willing the shame for his father to subside. He was crazy, Lucius always had been, and Draco knew this. Once he opened his eyes, Lucius was before him. The man had risen and walked to the cell bars, cackling at the boy he knew his son.

"Finally come to see your old man, have you?"

Draco couldn't bring himself to respond to his father's hawk-like gaze.

"You were always a fool. A good-for-nothing coward."

Lucius' malicious words caused Draco to cast his eyes to the ground.

"A blemish on the Malfoy name. If it weren't for deserters like you switching to the Light side, we'd be ruling the world now. Do you hear me, boy? Ruling the Wizarding world."

The old Malfoy snickered and traced Draco's face through the cell bars.

"You're older. Older and no more wiser than the day you turned on your own kind."

Lucius spat on the face of his son and grinned, uncovering a toothless smile. Suddenly his eyes averted from his wretched son. Lucius looked at Malfoy, but as though he wasn't there. Lucius seemed to be listening and seeing things nonexistent. He then bowed deeply.

"Yes, my lord."

And Lucius slunk back into the shadows of his cell.

Years later, Draco had learnt of his father recuperating. The convalescing prat was now in the lowest security cells and was due to be released. Draco didn't have the heart to tell his father of Narcissa's coma; he knew the man would return to who he was the first time Draco met him in Azkaban – mad, prejudiced, and positively lethal.

Draco leaned back in his chair, breathing deeply. His thoughts moved from Lucius and Narcissa back to Granger. All he could imagine was pressing his lips to her vile porcelain smooth mudblood skin, and whispering lowly in her virgin ears. He fantasized of their ardent kisses, fervent kisses. She was probably a whore in the bed, he thought with a naughty smirk. After all, Draco Malfoy was a connoisseur of all things sexual and coitus alike. He'd shagged and courted enough women to know these sorts of things.

Draco cracked his fingers and went back to rubbing his chin. Now he'd have to plead and implore Granger to come work for him. She'd enjoy that, wouldn't she? Having a Malfoy beg. He growled and tore the papers in front of him to shreds. That fucking mudblood was driving him mad; if he kept this up, he'd be like his father in no time. Draco placated himself. All he had to do was ask politely and she'd surely come. He scoffed at that. A Malfoy asking – politely even – was a sight to be seen. He'd never asked for anything, he didn't need to ask for anything. Draco Malfoy had everything.

Everything except Hermione Granger it turned out.

The night air was so bitterly crisp that Ron Weasley shut the door as soon as he stepped into her quaint warm apartment. Hermione, wearing a maroon apron wrapped tightly around her waist, greeted Ron with a quick hug.

"Thanks for inviting me over 'Mione."

He followed her retreating form into the kitchen.

"Well, I haven't seen you in a while," she confessed, flicking the spatula in her hand.

She mixed the pot of steaming spaghetti and smiled at her best friend,

"And I know how much you love my bologna."

Ron grinned. Like Malfoy and Hermione, the war had changed Ron. He lost a brother and friends, and tried to make up for the void by courting Hermione. They to create some spark, but even they knew whatever could have been, would never be. They even went as far as to kiss, but without the fireworks, both agreed on affable terms to remain friends.

Externally, Ron had changed from an extremely skinny awkward sidekick to a tall, lean, and confident man. It had taken months for Ron to start recovering from the death of his friends and family, and she could see Ron was still healing these many years later.

Ron worked alongside Harry as an Auror; the two still made an abominable force. The one thing that hadn't changed about Ron was his stomach. He still loved food, and never rejected an invitation to dine at Hermione's.

"What's for desert?" Ron asked, his finger skimming the edges of the plate before him.

"Pumpkin pie," Hermione replied with a beam.

They continued their casual banter as Hermione drained the water and scooped the spaghetti onto his plate.

"Smells like ambrosia, Hermione."

She giggled unlike her usual self.

"You only say that because of your furlough from my cooking. You haven't come over in weeks!"

"I've been busy, being an Auror and all. You know Hermione, you're starting to sound an awful lot like Ginny."

She purposely splattered meat sauce on his robes. She smiled sweetly at the redhead.

"Oops."

Ron simply squeezed her hand and chuckled.

"Hermione you will forever remain stubborn. Never change."

And with those enigmatic words, Ron began to devour the meal before him. Hermione laughed too, and decided against comparing his eating to the five-year-old Potter in her very kitchen days ago.

"I heard you're working with Malfoy."

"I'm not, Ron."

"Yes you are," Ron pressed, "Hannah Abbot told Seamus at lunch who told Dean in the elevator to my Auror floor who told me when he passed my office."

"Glad to know the Ministry has such intricate webs of communication."

"You know what I mean 'Mione."

"For you're information, Ronald, I quit."

Ron's face twisted.

"Why?"

"Because he's a git."

"We all know that, but I also know you, and you don't deal with Malfoy's nonsense. You never have, never will."

She beamed at him. Ron always had such a positive opinion of her.

"But I don't understand why you even accepted the job in the first place."

Ron's eyes suddenly widened, and he lowered his voice as though there were other people in the room.

"He didn't attack you, did he?"

And then had to ruin her appreciation by saying things like that.

"No, Ron, he most certainly didn't attack me."

More like aroused me to the next millennium.

"Good, but then why'd you quit?"

"Must I explain everything to you, Ron," she complained, "He's a git. End of story."

"Sounds like an impractical explanation to me."

"You wouldn't know impractical if it came and hexed you to Bellatrix's grave."

"Shut up, 'Mione."

Silence ebbed in Hermione's kitchen.

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

Ron dropped his fork and squeezed her hand again. She smiled into his swimming blue eyes and he folded her fingers again before releasing her hand.

"I'm starting to think you have some sort of alternative reason for not going."

She scowled at him.

"And how could you even think such a thing?" she fumed.

"For one, you're answering sardonically and I'm your best friend. I know you better than Ginny."

She sighed.

Ron you're going to hate me, but it's more likely you're going to go and assassinate Draco. But because you're my best friend–

The doorbell rang.

"That's strange, I didn't invite anyone else over."

Ron raised an eyebrow and pulled his wand onto the table. He winked when he saw her eyes widen.

"Just in case."

"Put that away Ron Bilius Weasley, this instance."

He seethed.

"No need to sound like Mom, Dad, and Ginny in one mouthful, Hermione."

She wiggled her eyebrows at his chuckles and headed over to the door. She took down the wards and uncertainly opened the apartment door.

"What the fuck?"

"Nice to see you too, Granger."

She glowered at him.

"How do you know my address? Why are you here? I thought I already told you I quit."

"No need to bombard me with questions, Granger. I didn't know you were that interested in my life. How very piquant."

"Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy."

Ron called out to her from the dining room.

"Guests, Granger, or a date?"

"None of your business," she snapped, "You were telling me why exactly you're at my doorstep."

"I just went and asked your pretty friend Patel. She seemed too interested as to why I wanted to visit you, but don't worry, I put her in place."

"You did what?"

Malfoy smirked at Hermione's fright.

"I just gave her my best supercilious glare."

"You mean your normal stare?"

"Shut it, Granger. Anyway, she handed over your address and here I am. I'm here because you won't return to your position at Malfoy Industries - I want to know why."

"Why?" she asked lecherously, visibly astonished, "You should know better than I do."

"Besides the fact I'm much too superior for you to be in my presence, I don't see one."

"I don't like your superlative sense of humor, Malfoy. It doesn't make me want to come back to your company."

"But see, Granger, you enjoy doing things for purebloods."

He smirked and she blushed in spite of herself before responding tersely.

"Don't be so purposely obtuse! You don't have the right to come to my apartment, have the tenacity to insult me again, and ask me to work for you. I don't work like that. You and me, it's not going to happen," she expounded resolutely.

She looked pleased at his silence. Her face fell at his reply.

"Are you breaking up with me, Granger?" Draco joshed.

"For Merlin's sake, get the fuck away from me."

In his rage, Draco thought to lean in to grab Hermione's waist and heave the light woman against the door. His quick contemplation was interrupted by the arrival of a redhead.

A very pissed off redhead.

"So nice of you to join us, Weasel."

"Ferret."

Draco bowed with a flourish of his hand. He sneered at Ron.

"Why don't you go fetch me some water, blood traitor?" Malfoy instructed rudely.

"Go fuck yourself, Malfoy."

Ron grabbed Hermione's wrist and wrenched her away from the door. Malfoy heard a barely audible,

"You were right about him still being a sore cretin."

"What was that, Weasel King? If I knew any better, I'd say–"

"Leave now, Malfoy," Ron interjected, his face red, "If you know what's best for you."

Malfoy smirked.

"Why don't you ask your girlfriend Hermione here why I'm even at her residence."

Ron looked at Hermione, whose eyes traced her hardwood floor.

"What's he talking about 'Mione?"

His voice was so innocent. Hermione hated to hurt him, she really did.

"Yes, what's he talking about 'Mione."

That did it for Ron.

All Hermione heard before she could pull out her own wand was the crunch of Ron's fist colliding into Malfoy's seraphic nose. The rest was a confused debacle. Hermione screamed for them to stop this foolishness as she heard thuds and moans of pain from both men.

She jumped between them in an attempt to pull Malfoy away from Ron. It wasn't until her best friend accidently struck her that the fight ended. She stumbled back, her eyes bleary from the excruciating pain.

"Merlin," Ron gasped, stumbling towards her, "I am so sorry 'Mione. Let me help you–"

She put up her hand against his chest and Ron stopped. She clutched her other arm against her stomach, eyes watering.

"Please, Ronald," she coughed and closed her eyes, "Just go."

"And leave you with this foul Voldemort reincarnate? I'd rather not."

"What did you just call me?" Draco thundered.

"Shut up, Malfoy. And please, please just go, Ron."

He tried again to reach out to her. Hermione just cringed and shuffled away from him.

"I don't want you to touch me right now."

Ron hung his head. She watched sadly as he collected his jacket from the kitchen and called an apology and goodbye before Apparating from her apartment. Draco's presence had not gone forgotten.

"Granger."

"What the fuck do you want, Malfoy? You started all of this."

He couldn't help but stare at her, chagrinned. He hated her - everything about her - but why did his knees buckle at her scent, and why was he constantly searching for excuses to talk to her. Her doe brown eyes flicked up to his own, and held his grey.

He strode languidly towards her; it was as if Ron's blows hadn't affected him in the slightest. Still locked on her eyes, Malfoy pulled Hermione against his own and held her. She didn't have the energy to fight him, and melted against his willing body. They stood like that silently for some moments with Malfoy smoothing her hair and whispering into her ear.

And all she could hear was the concurrent beating of their hearts.

He bent down and lifted her legs into an embrace to carry her to the bedroom. Hermione was much lighter than he'd previously anticipated.

"Wow, Granger. Eat much?"

She stayed silence. He decided this probably wasn't the best time to make jokes about her weight. He first passed the kitchen and dining area, which Draco decided he would clean after helping Granger – what with all that steaming food and those half-eaten meals.

He turned the corner and passed bathroom, smirking when he entered the last room in the hallway. Her bedroom was just as he'd imagined: clean, beige, and homely – just like predictable plain Jane Granger. He laid her gingerly on the bed. Draco froze when her nails dug into his back from sheer pain.

"Sorry again, Granger. Be a strong girl and deal with it."

He tried again, and successfully laid the brunette on her bed. He pulled out his wand from his robe pocket and closed his eyes, chanting slowly and hauntingly. A faint lavender glow emerged from his wand and lingered on Hermione's chest before fading. The aching receded minutes after.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered.

"No problem, Granger. I was a healer for the Dark side during the war anyway, so just putting some prior knowledge to use."

She smiled and closed her eyes.

"You'll come work for me again, right?"

She cracked an eye open and smirked at him. He was taken aback for a second. Granger smirking? No, it couldn't be. He checked again, and there she was, smirking.

"Obviously you had no ulterior motives for healing me, did you?"

"Again, Granger, you forget I'm a Slytherin."

"I doubt you'll ever let me – let alone anyone – forget that you're a Slytherin."

"I suppose you're right."

She leaned back her head and rested once more. She would forgive Ron; after all it was really Malfoy's stupidity that had caused the whole fiasco in the first place.

After ten minutes, Draco realized that she wasn't going to wake up and speak to him any time soon. Both his hands pulled at his white blond hair. Why did he have to save her? Was he her knight in shining fucking armor?

No, he most certainly was not.

He glanced back at her. She looked ethereal, sleeping peacefully; it was almost as if she wasn't insufferable mudblood Granger. But facts don't change, he thought to himself. Draco got up, but paused before exiting her bedroom door.

I don't care for the fucking mudblood, not in the slightest.

He turned back and saw that she was awake, smiling at him coyly.

"I'll see you Monday, Malfoy."

A/N: I love some good ol' fashioned Malfoy Weasley action. Reviews would be wonderful! Thanks for all the reads. Come back soon everyone, I'll try posting new chapters regularly.