Chapter Three: "Different Breeds of Transaction"

Hermione was sitting at her desk in the office, her head filled with legal jargon, her progress uncharacteristically slow. She shared the room with her superior Gladys Philips, the Senior Undersecretary, who thankfully was in a meeting. Right now she was trying to do her boss a favour by glancing through the giant book of wizarding laws, 1850 edition, to find out the technicalities of illegal wand usage.

But she couldn't concentrate.

Though her mind was reeling over choosing a focus for her new position as an attorney, she couldn't stop thinking about Blaise. And the fact that he hadn't contacted her at all.

She hated herself for it.
Felt like a dewy eyed school girl who cared more about boys over homework.

He was busy, but so was she. He'd given her a cell phone number he 'rarely used' but she'd been too proud to give in and call him. Ginny said she was being stubborn, but now she was refusing to do it on principle. It was kind of ridiculous to go ahead with it now, seeing as it was two and a half weeks since the party.

What was wrong with her?

She was a good catch, right? She was intelligent, sensible but not a prude, patient and understanding. He seemed to be really keen on her. So what was the problem?

Sighing into the pages she was reading, she banged her head on the desk.

"Maybe I should just call him."

She certainly was starting to feel a little lonely. Ginny's seemingly perfect life was beginning to make her feel inadequate; an amazing fiancée, a cool, well-paying job. She was always over at Harry's or away on a game. And where was she? An apprentice lawyer who didn't know whether she wanted to go criminal or corporate or something else. The only reason she had a nice apartment was because Ginny made double her salary. It would be a lie to say she wasn't a bit jealous. Or a lot.

Suddenly the click of the door interrupted her thoughts and she straightened up , pretending she was more involved.

"Miss Granger, how's your research going?"

Gladys strolled into the room, her frumpy cardigan over her shoulder, her face looking weary.

"It's going, Ms. Philips, how was your talk with the Wizengamot?"

Gladys was of the second highest rank under Kingsley Shacklebolt, who'd been elected after the death of Voldemort. (He'd served in office for nearly 8 years now; a great fit who had won 3 straight votes by a landslide.) She was a very strict woman who did her job extremely well; Hermione always felt tense and on her toes when she was around. Being the youngest officiating lawyer in the place was quite the accomplishment, even for Hermione. It's how she got the honour to be her assistant, she had proved her worth. But damn, Gladys could rival McGonagall for her firmness and that definitely said something.

"Oh, the usual. Lots of complaints, arguments and overruling. Nothing that you won't get to experience soon enough. Now, more importantly, have you given any thought to what field you'd like to dedicate your skills to?"

"I have, but I haven't decided."
She'd given it a world of thought, in fact.

It was a tough decision. She originally wanted to pursue human rights, and creature rights for that matter. But the ministry was extremely biased and difficult to deal with about any happenings that were not to their standards or race.
Wizard law wasn't akin to Muggle practices. It wasn't fair, Hermione knew it, most people did.

So she wouldn't want to start on the wrong foot. Logically, she decided to work the way up to a respectable reputation and then plan to bring justice to those who have never had any, like house elves or centaurs when her name meant business.

She was aiming towards being a corporate lawyer. If she could get Blaise's company out of a potentially destroyed reputation, she could certainly help smaller ones in jams. She wasn't bloodthritsy for money like many of the elites in her office, she just wanted to do the right thing.

"Well better get on that soon. Then you can stop sitting in here all the time and go out in the field," Gladys laughed.

If I did this the good way, it'd be years before I'd get to decide, Hermione thought. She herself was partial to Muggle lawyers. Proper university educated degrees that took a lot of time to achieve. Obviously, she appreciated the fact that her schooling was paid for due to great marks and didn't take up so much stress and time in her life, but it didn't feel quite as if she deserved the title.

It was a great thing that the wizarding world was becoming more and more progressive. Entwining her occupation and lifestyle with her parents world, because she loved living within both and was dedicated to staying a witch, was a great comfort. Still, their legal system wasn't quite….just enough for her.

After rereading the same clause five times, her mind thoroughly distracted, Hermione knew she needed a break.

"Ms. Philips, do you mind if I go on lunch early? I'm afraid my brain retention is a bit stunted after looking at this for three hours," Hermione asked, hiding her nerves.

Gladys contemplated her for a moment and then nodded. "Very well. You have an hour, dear."

"Thanks," Hermione breathed in relief.

She snatched her briefcase and zoomed from the small confinement, clacking her uncomfortable heels down to the main floor, past the fountain to the fireplaces and flooing into her apartment. The un-stressful setting would put her in a calm mood, she hoped.

The white flag was coming up, she couldn't stand the niggling voice at the back of her head chanting 'what if'? What if Blaise really was too busy to call her? Loose ends did not sit well with Hermione Granger. Strained enough already, settling one matter would help.

She slumped onto the sofa and pulled out her cell phone, heart pumping as she searched for "Blaise Zabini". He had to pick up, eleven-thirty was lunch; even a CEO had to eat.

Clicking the green button, the ringing made her jolt at every tinny ding. Seven rings went by, and she almost hung up until –

"Blaise Zabini," his steely, professional voice came through the line and Hermione almost dropped the phone.

She cleared her throat, instantly regretting calling.
It was odd, she spent more than a month working a case for him, but now that everything became personal, it felt like she was talking to a totally different man.

"Hi Blaise, it's Hermione."
She heard him breathe on the other end, pausing before he answered.

"Hello Hermione, what can I help you with?" He was not happy. His voice was distant, too cool.

How dare he? She thought.
He was the one who said he would call!

"Not much, I suppose. I was going to ask when you wanted to go out to dinner, seeing as it's been 2 weeks and you haven't contacted me," she replied (a bit bitchily.)

"What?"

"You never called," she pressed, anxiety filling her a bit, now second-guessing whether or not she missed a sign.

"I didn't call? What the fu – James!" he barked to somebody offline, and Hermione was taken aback by his sudden change in tone. She overheard a quick conversation until the line was fuzzy and he was back. "You didn't get the letter I sent you?"

"N-no, I didn't," she answered. "When did you send it?"

"Two days after the party."

"Where did you send it to?" Hermione had a sudden realization.

"Your office?" Blaise replied confused. "I figured you'd receive and look at it immediately."

"Oh, god." It was all coming together now. "If you addressed it with just my name, my boss probably glanced at it or threw it out. She shares her office with me, and she's very serious about the no 'personal' calls or messages rule. She didn't tell me about it either."

"Oh." His voice was drastically humbled. "Well…I – I'm sorry. I should've asked for your number or tried contacting you another way. I feel foolish," he laughed.

Hermione smiled.
"It's fine, it was a misunderstanding unsolved because we're both a little stubborn. I was upset at you for not calling me, I must admit I felt too upset until this morning about calling you instead. I thought perhaps you changed your mind."

"Same here. I've been known to be petty in these kinds of circumstances…was quite angry to be honest." Hermione secretly relished in the fact he was actually angry over her 'ignoring' him.

"Well how do you propose we rectify the situation?" she asked coyly.

"Hm, well my note was asking you to dinner last night. So that's out," he chuckled. "Perhaps this Saturday? I'm free then at night, unless you have plans."

"No, no. That sounds great." She cursed herself silently. Too eager, too eager!

"Alright, I'll pick you up at 8. Your house?"

"Sure. It's 45 Kilburn High Road. Buzz flat 15."

"Great, I'll be seeing you. Bye Hermione."

"Bye Blaise." She clicked off and squealed with joy.
She hadn't been on a date in months. Finally, she could shake off the notion that she was a leper to available men.

Four days til the weekend, she could not wait.

A few streets over in Mayfair, Draco was tired of waiting too. He was less than elated sitting in his newly furnished flat, angrily crumbling a piece of parchment and tossing it in the bin.

"Merlin, why the hell can't I come up with anything good?"

"Because you're not an entrepreneur or business specialist," Pansy replied dryly, leaning against the bar he was sitting at, sipping some merlot.

Draco was currently trying to come up with a good name for his personal styling company. He was going to be a one man operation on the surface, but he felt all the best ventures had a backing.

He didn't realize when he had told his parents how difficult it was to get insured or get a license to even have a business. Especially since he wanted to deal with muggles.
And he definitely was not giving up that part of his plan. There were literally billions more muggles than wizards, and he didn't want to fail pathetically by ignoring such a giant market.

His father had the exact reaction he was hoping for when he told him the news; rage about his profession of choice and then hysteria when told about the muggle side of London he was looking to live in.

If he had to suffer and be forced to be an adult, he was doing it on his terms (and yes, out of spite). Narcissa had been surprisingly supportive, and gave him a contact list of designers she used, and famous people she'd met (all wizards, but it was a start).

"Vat about just calling yourself Malfoy, or Draco like those Muggles do vith famous celebrities? You're already vealthy, all you need is clients to make over, yeah?"
To Draco's amusement, Sergei had come with Pansy to visit him. Draco hadn't understood how electricity worked or what outlets were for with all of his new appliances, so he asked the only person where he wouldn't feel like a complete idiot doing so.

"That's stupid Sergei," Pansy dismissed him.
Draco noticed she continuously put him down, but he took it with a smile, always enthusiastic. It was a bit odd, they were very clashing personalities. He found he really liked Sergei; he was kind, personable, easy to talk to. While they were different in mind, Sergei was tall, dark and fit. He matched well with her otherwise.

Pansy realized she was being harsh that day. The intent was not to be such a frost queen, she was just overworked with anxiety that Draco might've remembered the night they'd shared two weeks ago. He hadn't said a word and neither had she. Sergei knew he'd escorted her to the yacht party, but he was none the wiser about the half-handy that Pansy bestowed on him, the kisses she stole. She desperately wanted to confess, but she figured if Draco forgot it, it was best left untouched, a mistake never to be made again.

"No, no, he's on to something there. I need to find something appealing to the masses, and most of them are rather dimwitted. So I must make myself appear grandiose and fabulous. Worth the fees they have to pay for me to make them fabulous."

"Why not just rent a billboard in Piccadilly Square with your face on it; The Fabulous Stylings of Draco Malfoy?" Pansy suggested sarcastically.

"Maybe I will," Draco stuck his tongue out at her. "Now, the more important question is; How the fuck does one brew coffee?"

"Really, Draco?" Pansy sighed. "You're like a helpless kitten."

"Well, meowr! Help me, dammit."

He got up from his chair and strode to the kitchen and over to the coffee maker, a fancy instant one with the ready made cups, (recommended by Pansy of course).

She rolled her eyes and instructed him on how to make the drink by pressing buttons, while Sergei observed, entertained.

"There you go. Now remember it, cause I'm not showing you again." She shoved the cup into his hand and he grabbed sugar from his almost empty cabinet.

"Thanks, dear. Sergei, want some?"

"No, I'm fine," he laughed. Instead, he grabbed Pansy's hand over the island counter, and leaned in for a kiss, but she moved her head at the last moment, landing on her cheek.

Draco noticed, sipping his drink and feeling awkward at the tension created. "So Sergei, what is it you do anyways?"

"Boring things, mostly," he replied, frowning at his rejection. "Being an ambassador is mostly about talking to political officials, mundane topics, you know? About patting backs and spouting good stuff about Mother Russia. I'm not high up enough yet to talk about interesting issues."

Sergei was a diplomat for Russia-England relations. He was 9 years Pansy's senior, and Draco figured he was intelligent for gaining such a position with barely an aristocratic background. At a fairly young age for the Wizarding world, too. He'd been at a gala she attended with her parents, and he'd charmed her very much with his sense of humour and looks compared to the rest of the wizards around.

"I'm sure you do much more good than Pans or I will ever do though, eh?" He chuckled.

"Perhaps. But self-esteem is alvays an important thing to boost," Sergei smiled, making Pansy feel extra guilty about her boyfriend being nice to the man she cheated with.

"True. I'm thinking about having a giant party, you know, start off business with a bang," Draco emphasized by stretching his arms wide. "Just need a damn catchy name."

"A party? Ooh, pray tell do you need an organizer for it?" Pansy asked eagerly, nerves momentarily forgotten.

"I think you're going to butt in either way seeing as you don't have my parents to worry about just popping in and outside my door," Draco mused. He was glad he didn't live in an all-wizard building. Otherwise Pansy would Apparate in any time she pleased.

"And I live just across Hyde Park, remember?"

"Oh god, yeah. This is going to be a nightmare; having responsibility," Draco said rubbing his temples. "Cleaning up after myself, going out in public. Ugh. I can't even come up with a title for myself."

"Ve'll figure it out Draco," Sergei said, plopping himself down on a stiff leather sofa that deflated as he sat. "How about… La Roi Maniere? French is sophisticated."

"Eh," Draco shrugged. As if people didn't think he was pretentious enough already.

"Malfoy Incorporated?" Pansy asked. "Simple, austere."

"No, too severe sounding. I need people to feel like they can relate to me. But at the same time, still wanting to respect me and my authority over their wardrobe."

"Psh, like that's going to happen overnight," Pansy laughed.

"Swish and Flick? Flick my vand and you'll be attractive in a snap!" Sergei suggested in an announcer's voice. "Ze Polyjuice Makover; you von't even recognize yourself!"

"Clever, but it needs to be Muggle friendly," Draco grinned, enjoying Sergei's contrasting humour compared to Pansy's annoyance.

"Aristocratic Ass: He'll make you sexy, but he's rude and crass?" Pansy tried.

"I prefer brutally honest," Draco glared. Sergei chuckled.

"Just Like Magic! Effortlessly transforming your look one day at a time!"

"Merlin, would you shut up?" Pansy scolded with a tight smile, embarrassed.

Draco on the other hand felt the mental light bulb switch on, and he stared at Sergei with wide eyes.

"No – that's brilliant."

"What!?"

"Think about it – the Wizarding community will think of it as a pun, a clever one at that. And Muggles use the phrase 'magic' when something works better than expected, right? Sergei, you're a genius!"

Draco jumped over to the couch and grabbed his hand to shake it, feeling energized, like everything was falling into place.

"You're telling me you're going to license a company called Just Like Magic?"

"No, just 'Like Magic'. It's perfect."

"It's ridiculous."

"Exactly! Look, Pansy, it needs to be over the top. It's going to work. If I have to go out, I'm going out in a grandiose way. It'll piss of my dad, and I please both societies of the world; it's a win/win situation love."

"Whatever you say," She replied skeptically. "But how are you going to work with Muggles? You're not exactly well versed in their lives."

"Oh, I know. But I'll learn. I can always hire muggle workers, why else do you think I'm making a company? They can do the advertising and all that jazz. Mama and papa gave me some start up cashola. And the exchange rate is just glorious," he winked.

"See Pansy? He's fine, no need to fuss."

"Thanks my friend," Draco beamed.

"You're welcome. I must confess I like you more zan most of her other friends. Not so, how do you say –"

"Pompous? Fake?"

"Yes."
Pansy was shaking her head.

Draco rubbed his hands together, going over to his chest to grab some parchment and ink.

"Now to the event of the summer. The party. I want to crank out the time and place so I can get word out and have an RVSP list by next week. The day after it's over, I'm opening up my services. I'm thinking outdoors. Lots of guests. Lots of famous people. Any suggestions for music, food, locations – I'm up for. I'm going to have it in three weeks, perhaps four."

"Famous people? Who's going to come to a Malfoy event?"

"Muggle designers. People who know my mother. I'll pay them if I have to. I don't give a shit! Chop chop now, if you want to be involved, be involved. I'm not going to have so much spare time soon."

Pansy heaved a deep breath and went over to sit with Sergei, pulling out her fancy smartphone.
"I'll look up some good Muggle and wizard caterers on here."

Draco, though astonished you could look up such things on a tiny device, didn't show it and thanked her.
"Right. Let's start making a guest list. Everyone from Hogwarts," he scrawled.

"You inviting them just to show them you're not a failure anymore, to rub it in the Slytherin faces?" Pansy inquired, face glued to her screen.

"Yup."

"Fantastic."

The Weekend: Date Night

"I can't believe you're actually going over to the dark side," Harry joked as he entered Hermione and Ginny's flat, noticing and slightly disproving his friend's effort at looking sexy and elegant.

Hermione was dressed in a little black number, cleavage out, but conservative legs. She had on nude tights with a black back seam and red pumps.

Now she was fussing over her hair, which she couldn't manage to tame the way she wanted. She knew Blaise probably didn't care that much, he had seen her in the worst state, fussing over documents. But still, he was a Slytherin and he was rich, used to pampering and grooming. He had expectations she hoped she could fulfill.

She loved how he looked. He was so neat. Close shaven head, beautiful brown skin, fit, and he always had a nice suit on.
Hermione was well organized, she was neat too. But she felt frumpy, slouchy and vampiric from sitting inside with books so often. She must try to elevate her regular look to match his.

"Yes, well. He's as light as they get over on the grey and green table," she laughed.

"That's true," Harry nodded, smiling when Ginny emerged from her room in comfy pajamas.

"You guys going to sit tight and watch movies all night?" Hermione asked. "I thought you were hanging out with Ron?"

"Meh, he bailed. Too tired from work."

"Oh…poor Ron." Hermione felt a twinge of sympathy. She was mentally stressed a lot, but he was too. Combined with physical stress, it must be tough saving people.

Harry noticed her tone, seriously curious as to what exactly she thought of his best friend. Honestly, he thought she and Ron were a good matched pair, his cool calm evened out her craziness. But he knew Ron was also careless when it came to relationships, he was erratic and, well, in his early twenties. He wished Hermione could lecture him about his love life and feelings, but that was the one thing she was far too nice to set him straight to.

"Yeah. Would've invited him over, but third wheel and all that. Need to watch the second and third Lord of the Rings. Probably will fall asleep halfway through," Ginny replied, plopping down on the sofa. "So when's lover boy gonna get here?"

"Any minute now, actually. He said 8, and I'm assuming he'll be – " the buzzer went off. "Punctual," she grinned.

She clicked the intercom: "Granger and Weasley residence?"

"Hi Hermione, it's Blaise," the tinny voice rang in. "You ready?"

"Yes, I'll be right dowwwn," she replied in a sing-songy voice. "Bye!"

She waved to her friends, they wished her luck, and she made her way to the elevator, not risking the stairs in heels. The last thing she wanted was to start the date with a broken ankle.

Blaise met her in the lobby, as she attempted to mask her giddy nervousness.

On the other side, Blaise was confident. He thought he knew how to handle girls expertly.

He was being a gentleman and his tried and true tactics worked; Hermione felt the taxi ride they took to the restaurant was pleasant, and unexpected. It was nice that they had a chance to talk beforehand, that they didn't just Apparate. It was more personal.

They sat down on the patio of an expensive Italian restaurant, Signor Sassi. It was super fancy, close to the café Hermione met Lupin and Sirius in. All staff seemed to know who Blaise was, of little surprise to Hermione, and they got the best seat in the back.

"So…Italian. How stereotypical of you," Hermione teased as they ordered some Pinot Noir and ricotta stuffed tomatoes.

"My favourite," Blaise chuckled. "My mother would take me here when I was younger with her modeling friends or agents because I would always beg for spaghetti. And cry if I got anything else."

"That's adorable," Hermione giggled. "You know it's funny, I worked with you for what, nearly two months? And I never really knew a thing about you."

"I make a point to try and be professional with all my clients. That way no information can be used against me or passed on in some way to my rivals. Not that I think you would do that, and anyways, you're not a client anymore. I can be myself," he smiled, sipping his water.

"Rivals? Do you have many then?"

"Well, you'd be surprised, really. They think I'm too young, that I only understand the business part of it, that I don't try and understand the science and skill behind it. But it's not true. A lot of men we hire hunt in groups, and there are plenty who do it secretly. Some muggles, even. Not all medicinal ingredients are magical creatures after all. Illegally of course, no permits. All around Europe, all around the world. Then they sell it to other companies, the bigger ones. But I won't have it. I don't care if I'm making less than them, I pride myself on a good reputation. As you obviously know."

Hermione's head swirled with images of abused animals, no heed to their feelings, no care about if they were in pain. "But why doesn't anyone stop them if they know it happens?"

"The Ministry tries. The muggle government too, i'm sure you know. They're very good at keeping it under wraps though, the wizards. Easier to clean up messes. Nobody's been caught in years, but they're bound to sometime. And when the time comes, I'll laugh," Blaise said scornfully, thanking the waiter for pouring his wine.

"Those poor animals," Hermione mumbled silently.

"Yes, it's quite a waste if you ask me," Blaise replied. "Now did you have any idea of what you want?"

"Oh um…" she scanned the menu, not exactly in an eating, or meaty, mood anymore. "Fettuccini alfredo, I think. It's a classic, it must be good."

"Nice choice. I'm going to have spaghetti lobster, their most famous dish," he said, turning to the staff and ordering for her.

There was a bit of a pregnant pause before Blaise started up the conversation again.

"So how's work going?"

Oh god, am I that boring? Hermione thought. They were already resorting to mundane questions.

"The usual, too much paperwork, not enough recognition," she laughed a bit too heartily.

"Huh. You said in the cab that you were thinking about becoming a corporate lawyer. If that's what you decide, I want to be one of your clients, you know. Your number one, actually. You are remarkably talented for being so young. Like me," he winked, making her chest and ears flush.

"Well, of course. N-now," she stammered, "I read in the Prophet that you opened up a branch in Zambia last week. That sounds fascinating. What were you looking for that's in Southern Africa, exactly?"

She wanted to get the attention away from herself. The constant need to please everybody and everything around her was all part of being an incessant perfectionist. Conceit filled her getting even the smallest bit of praise.

And they always said to keep asking questions to your guest on dates.

"Changing the subject, are we?" he asked wryly. "If you're interested, I've been getting research to figure out for me what illnesses are still prevalent in the world, and why. Have you heard of Scrofungulus?"

Hermione nodded. Ron always complained that the fungal growths on people necks were disgusting, almost too much for him to handle.

"That disease is highly contagious. And it's produced by coming in contact with some magical bug, which doesn't yet have a name because none have ever been caught. Just documented. I went to Zambia because there are insects there that resemble them. If we can get some to test out, we may be closer to getting a cure. They were difficult to deal with, in all honesty. The Zambians didn't want Britain to get the credit potentially if they did all the field work."

"Wow," she replied impressed. She hadn't realized how much effort this all took. "Is it hard to get permits then?"

"Not hard, I have money," he said immodestly. "It's humans that are disagreeable. They have lots of poachers going round the reserves, especially South Luangwa, where most of the diversity is. And it's always 50/50 on whether you're hiring reputable people to get the job done. So going to officials who really care for the land, you have a lot of nuisance in trying to convince them you aren't doing this for the animal skins."

"That must be challenging. All you're trying to do is save people! But I guess I can see how they feel, they have to see their beautiful wildlife get endangered more and more every year when they're helping to keep them alive," she explained quickly, going on a tangent.

"Yes, I suppose you're right," he grinned, amused. "Speaking of nuisances, I've been invited to an event in three weeks, and I was wondering if I could be your escort. It wouldn't be much fun without somebody who isn't interesting."

Three weeks? Hermione thought.

"Oh, so my rambling and talk of just business hasn't turned you off yet? You're still going to want to date me in three weeks?"

"Of course. It'll be like a coming out party – er – well introduction I suppose? Lots of people will be there. Because the host is Draco."

He grimaced, wondering why the hell that rat thought he even had a chance with what his rep was.

"Malfoy?!" Hermione exclaimed, slightly appalled as their entrée was delivered on fancy plates. "Why ever would he be having an 'event' that people would want to attend?"

"Yes, that's what I thought. He's starting his own business it would seem," he replied a bit annoyed. "He sent me the invite and said he was going to include everyone from Hogwarts, but since I liked you, to invite you and save the trouble for him, idiot. He knew that you hadn't responded to my letter, he likes to rouse people, especially me."

"Why even go then?" she asked confused. "And what kind of business would he run?"

"Some kind of stylist thing," he snorted. "Like people will want to get advice from him. Whatever, he must be delusional. He just invited everyone to show off, as per usual. And it would be rude for me not to go considering he asked me. I mean, I never include him in mine because I can't stand the bloke, he only came last time because Pansy brought him without telling me. You saw what happened. Maybe he's trying to re-establish our long gone friendship? I dunno," he shrugged, biting into a tomato.

"For what? So he'd look good in the public eye?" she asked doubtfully. Somehow, Hermione got the feeling Draco didn't care a bit what people thought of him, he liked infamy for some reason she'd never know.

"No idea, but who cares. I want to bring you to rub it into his face. I'll buy you something nice too, to wear to it."

Hermione sipped her wine self-consciously, wondering if he just wanted her to look extra fab, or if he was kindly saying she had poor taste in clothes.

But if Malfoy was being a stylist, he'd need clients too. No doubt he'd be looking for them at his party. And she did not want to be disgraced by being made a public display, a mockery. She didn't have the money of those Slytherin girls.

"Sorry, wasn't trying to insult you," he apologized a bit late. "I just want you looking as great as I know you can. Especially if we're going to be business partners. You will go won't you?"

Blaise didn't understand why she seemed a bit offended, noticing the calculating look on her face. He was inviting her to a prime party. If it was Malfoy, it would be grandiose. Draco was so like Narcissa, though he didn't notice because his head was always up his arse. He merely thought it best for her to get a new dress. He wasn't going to be impolite, but she probably couldn't afford one.

"Um, well I haven't decided quite yet about going corporate. I thought you liked to keep your private life separate," she said nervously, unsure of how to respond. "I will go with you though."

It seemed too overwhelming for him to be making decisions like this for her, without asking for her opinion, as if he assumed she'd go along with it. Blaise was talking like they'd been together for months already. Honestly, she probably would oblige him if he talked to her about it. But not beforehand.

Blaise of course didn't realize that he sounded controlling. In his head, he was being sensible.

"I can make an exception for you. To be honest, Hermione, I'm a man that likes to get things done. To get what I want. And what I want is you," he said calmly, unnerving Hermione to a great extent. When she didn't respond, he continued. "Look, I know it's a lot to take in, and it scares a lot of people away. But I'm very busy, and I don't like mucking about not knowing where I stand with somebody. Maybe it's too much for you now, and you don't have to answer right now, but I'd like to be exclusive. I wanted to since you gave me legal advice. You're the only one with half a brain in that damned place, and I'd love to give you the opportunity to take it further," he smiled.

Hermione didn't know what to say, what to think.

She was extremely flattered, but also extremely afraid of what she was getting into. An expert at being guarded, in the past it had cost her relationships, it had cost her happiness.

After a long silence of contemplation, Blaise waiting patiently, she told him she'd have to think about it.

"I'm not saying no, and I want to see you. But official? It's too soon, I'm sorry," she said, trying to stand her ground, feeling horrible for it.

"It's alright."

"I don't date more than one person at a time, by the way, so you know," she continued quietly.

"Who exactly have you dated, if you don't mind me asking? You weren't seeing anyone when you worked for me, and you haven't been in Witch Weekly or any gossip blogs and the like very often, even though you're with Harry a lot. It's one of the reasons I was drawn to you, you're very reserved, don't garner attention that isn't deserved."

"Have you been keeping tabs?" she asked a bit frightened.

"No, but I hang out with Theodore often. Astoria and Daphne speculate you know, they read the shit out of all those tabloid things, if you'll excuse the vulgarity. You don't have to answer, I'm not trying to interrogate, I'm actually genuinely curious."

"Oh," she felt her stomach flex with relief. "Well, a bit embarrassing, I fancied Ron during school. I never got it out in the open. I mentioned it at a wedding 2 years back. I've found now that I have admitted it, he likes me on and off every month. It's a bit frustrating," she sighed.
"Viktor and I kept in touch after he came for the Triwizard Tournament, and we wrote often. I dated him last year. We dated for almost 15 months. But he had so much demanding scheduling and it was starting to wear on him apparating to Britain every day or having me floo to him in Bulgaria just to see each other for one night. Plus I was busy too, we never had a regulated pace and I think it just made us crazy with lack of sleep or time."

"Interesting. Anyone else?"

She wasn't sure why she was explaining her reasons for breaking up to Blaise when it was their first date, but he was being forward and honest, so she could return the favour.

"I've been on dates that didn't last. But yes, I dated Dean Thomas for 6 months after graduation, and was on and off with Cormac McLaggen for about 3. None of them worked out because Dean had dated Ginny if you remember from school, and I lived with her. It was a bit weird. And Ron absolutely hated Cormac. It took me far too long to be sensible to realize that all he did was talk about himself."

"How repulsive," Blaise agreed, "Oh look, food's here."

It looked positively scrumptious. It had to be at 35 galleons a plate.

"Want to know about my dating history?" he questioned.

"Sure," she smiled, not being truthful. She was just going to compare herself to them negatively, wondering now if Blaise did that too. If boys did that in general, they seemed to be good at hiding it. Did he ever get apprehensive?

Blaise, though he'd never tell her, rarely did. He was too successful to be nervous. He wasn't fretting at all. He thought that Viktor was the only reputable person worth mentioning. Dean had a good job, but he was too nice. He didn't get things done.

"I dated Astoria for a year when I was 19." He raised his eyebrows at Hermione, and she felt as he did; startled. "I know, it's odd considering one of the people I frequently see is very much serious about her now. But I'm happy for them," he finished flippantly. "And in sixth and seventh year I dated this lovely Ravenclaw girl, Eliza Omirou. I don't know if you knew her, she was 2 years younger than us."

"Eliza…oh, did she sing in the choir with Professor Flitwick? I think I remember him raving about her to McGonagall."

"Yes, she did. Wonderful voice. She was nice, she moved to Greece when I graduated, where she was from, so obviously we had to break up. I would've liked something more, but she was only 16. It would've been too crazy, funny how we've both had the same trouble."

"Yeah, that is odd."

"Anyways, that's it. Honestly," he replied at her skeptical look. "Every other girl I've approached to date hasn't liked my attitude. I've wanted to change it a bit, but I realize that it's what I want so I may as well try to get what I feel like I need in a relationship."

Hermione felt a bit off about the statement, but she couldn't be upset at him for making it, because that's how she felt too, even if she'd phrase it differently.

"And here I was thinking you were some kind of ladies' man," she joked, trying to loosen him up from all this serious discussion.

"Oh, don't underestimate the power of money, many have 'taken' to me for my looks and wealth, but I can't be fooled," he countered playfully.

The conversation managed to stay lighter as the night wore on, more about pastime interests and general topics than personal inquiry. By the end of dinner, Hermione felt she had managed to make a good impression.

Blaise was happy to see Hermione wasn't socially awkward, as plenty of intelligent people had been in the past. On the boat he'd evaluated her small talk ability, and chalked up her nervousness to the fact that he was talking to her; and not on a business level. He knew she could work hard, but she could also handle a room and new people if she had too. Which was good, he knew he'd get her to come round and date him, she was no nonsense like he was. They were a good match, as he'd said on the boat.

The restaurant to her flat was only a 20 minute walk, and Blaise suggested a nice stroll home seeing as it was so warm. Hermione agreed, though now felt reluctant in her heels.

He walked her to the door, complimenting her appearance when the conversation broke.

"You know, I said it when I arrived, but you look beautiful. Especially in the moonlight."

"Th-thank you, you always look good."
He laughed when she stuttered, finding her embarrassment cute. Before she had time to look to the floor or tuck hair behind her ears, he pulled her into him for embrace.

Kissing her on the lips tenderly, and then again. Hermione hadn't expected it, hadn't known if he'd be romantic or not.
But she enjoyed it.
She really enjoyed it.

They said their goodnights, their "i'll call you's", and she got inside, taking off her heels in the elevator, seriously confused as to how she felt.
Blaise wasn't: he was happy. Content that next time he saw her she'd be his.

Hermione was more thoughtful than that. Blaise was smart, educated and they could get on well. Plus gorgeous.

But he seemed a control freak, perhaps possessive, though not jealous. She wondered what would happen next….she wanted to find out.

She just hoped she wouldn't get burned if it wasn't pleasant.