Chapter 3: Hired

The best way to appreciate your job is to imagine yourself without one- Oscar Wilde


"Seventy-two minutes."

Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Granger?"

She stood up from the chair in the corner and bit out, "I said, you are seventy-two minutes late."

He made a big show of checking the time on his watch. "I'm afraid I you're mistaken, I always go to work at ten."

"If that is the case, then you are twelve minutes late, Mr Malfoy," said Hermione through gritted teeth. "Unfortunately, that is not the case. You told me to report to you at nine this morning. Nine. You just wasted an hour and twelve minutes of my life, are you happy now?"

"Now, Miss Granger, where are your manners?"

"Don't you dare question mine when you don't even have the decency to-"

He started walking towards his desk and snorted. "Come off it Granger, it's ten in the morning. I really don't need one of your morality lectures right now. Who are you, my mother?"

Hermione glared at him and said coldly. "No. Because the last time I checked, your mother is dead."

"Say whatever you want to say about my dead mother, you can't rattle me with that," sneered Malfoy.

Hermione's jaw dropped. "I beg your pardon it was you who brought her up!"

"Whatever Granger," said Malfoy flatly, setting his suitcase down on his desk. "What do you want?"

She walked up to the grand oak table and slammed the contract onto its waxed surface, giving Malfoy her best scowl. "Contract."

He smirked and sat down opposite to her. "How efficient of you, Granger."

She curled her lips in disdain, watching him smooth out the document neatly in front of him. Then he shrugged his robes off to reveal an immaculate black suit (which cost a fortune, no doubt) underneath, and a silky green tie (typical), while reading the terms silently. She sighed and sank down into one of the plushy armchairs facing Malfoy, carefully placing her briefcase on the carpeted floor.

"'No animal products, by-products or any products undergone animal-testing?'" he read aloud, and lifted his sharp chin to raise an eyebrow at her.

"I'm a vegan," she answered.

"Care to explain?"

"I don't eat animals or use animal products," she replied curtly.

"So no fur, no leather?"

"No, I'm against animal cruelty," she affirmed.

"Well, that won't do, they are the most traditional materials of wizarding fashion," said Malfoy, leaning back on his chair.

"I don't care. I refuse to work with fur or leather," said Hermione emotionally, subconsciously leaning forward in her seat. "Do you have any idea how much pain these poor animals suffer? They are practically stuffed into cages before they are skinned alive-"

"Granger, you can't save the world, you know," interrupted Malfoy rudely.

"Well, at least I'm doing what I can do," she pointed out. "Unlike some people."

"Excuse me if I'm not up to your saintly standards," scoffed Malfoy, brushing off imaginary dust from his shoulder.

"It's not the end of the wolrd you know," protested Hermione. "Haven't you heard of artificial fur and leather? Do you know how many lives we can save by boycotting-"

She broke off when Malfoy picked up a quill and started writing rapidly on the parchment. "What are you doing?"

"Flying. What does it look like I'm doing?" he snorted without looking up.

"You can't do that, I cast a-"

Malfoy sighed exasperatedly. "Apparently you forgot that the employer is exempt from the Read-only charm."

Hermione nearly slapped herself. "Oh."

"Oh," he echoed mockingly. "How eloquent of you."

She resisted a strong temptation to smack that head of sleek blonde hair with her briefcase.

"Sign," he commanded, swivelling the contract around and pushed it across the polished surface of the desk to her.

She expected his handwriting to be horridly untidy, but it turned out to be very elegant and clean.

"'All matters of ambuguity shall be solely subjected to DRACO MALFOY'S decisions without dispute from any other party'," she read. "But that's not fair!"

"What is fair?" he asked rhetorically. "Look, Granger, it works both ways. I give you full control of the project, I get full control of my staff. It's perfect."

"Full control of your staff? What are we? Your pawns?"

Malfoy reclined easily in his seat and addressed the ceiling. "Think of what I'm offering you, Granger. Then you'll see."

Think, she did.

He would pay off her debts and buy up all her unsold stock.

He would pay for all expenses of the collection.

He would let her stay in her own apartment, rent-free.

He would keep her financial troubles a secret.

He would give her the biggest paycheck she had ever received in her life.

Basically, he was offering her a life.

And it would be stupid of her not to take it.

"Alright," she decided. "Alright."

Taking the quill he offered her, her heart pounding wildly in her ribcage, she scrawled her signature on the contract and sealed her fate.

Malfoy did the same, then thumped the company seal- a green dragon curled around a sword- on the parchment. Hermione watched the ink sink into the contract before he rolled the parchment up and tied it with a green silk ribbon in a flourish.

"Welcome to Malfoy International, Miss Granger," he said silkily.

She did not like that smile.


"And this is your apartment."

Hermione's eyes widened when they alighted upon the stylish space before her.

The two women were standing on the 66th floor of MIC's latest development, Malfoy Luxury Flats.

"Wow," she managed to say. "This is gorgeous."

Marie, the leggy redhead Malfoy summoned to take her to her apartment, swaggered into the apartment like she owned it.

"The phone is connected to the company line, press 5 if you want to speak to me," Marie informed Hermione without looking at her. "My suite's on floor 78, number 782 if you need me. And Mr Malfoy's right next to me." She gave Hermione a pompous smile.

"I thought Mr Malfoy lived at his place? Malfoy Manor?" asked Hermione, surprised.

"Oh, he moved out years ago," replied Marie with a dismissive wave of her slender hand. "Haven't you heard?"

"I've been... away."

"Is there anything else you need?"

Hermione looked around the apartment. "Well, I need to move my things in here from my studio. Can Mr Malfoy arrange a car? He knows where my studio is."

"Oh alright," said Marie airily. "When do you need the car?"

"At three this afternoon."

"Anything else?"

"No, but please remember to ask for a car-" said Hermione, but was rudely interrupted mid-sentence as Marie headed out of the door.

"Yeah I will."

The door slammed shut.

"Insolent little twit," muttered Hermione under her breath.

But at least the apartment was stunning.

And the best part? She didn't have to pay rent. To think that her rubbish little studio had cost a staggering £150 a week!

She couldn't help but grin widely. This flat was huge. She was standing in the living room, tastefully furnished in shades of cream, black and grey on a brilliant white marble floor. The furniture was streamlined and minimalistic, very modern and undoubtedly very expensive. There was a television. A television! It looked like a Plasma, but on closer inspection it was also a Malfoy production.

What a diverse business, thought Hermione with a snort.

Ron would love the enormous kitchen, it was twice as big as her studio and equipped with all kinds of culinary technology. Ron discovered his kitchen talents a couple of years ago and now had his own trendy restaurant, Chez Weasley in Hogsmeade, which was critically acclaimed. How unfortunate that the kitchen was absolutely no use to her. She lived on Chinese takeaway.

Kicking off her shoes and leaving them lying in the middle of her living room (her living room, she liked the sound of that), she ventured into the corridor framed by a sleek chrome arc. A quick glance told her that there were five doors, one at the end of the corridor, two on either side.

Opening the first door on her right, she squealed in excitement. A library! A charmed library, at that! Meaning that Hermione could insert as many walls as she wanted to accommodate for her books. Thank Merlin for magic. The door across the library was a small but lavish bathroom complete with both a luxurious bathtub installed on a platform and a shower. The room next to the bathroom was a simple study.

She stopped in front of a door that was translucent green, before reaching out to grasp the handle- it slid sideways instead of opening inwards.

Hermione gasped aloud at the chrome workbenches, neatly aligned in the middle of the room. Bare mannequins lined the wall on the right, on the opposite wall was a gigantic chalk board, by the door was a floor-to-ceiling mirror, and at the far end, rows and rows of metallic arms protruded from the white wall, obviously custom made for hanging fabrics.

She could have broken down and cried.

Maybe she did make the right decision after all. She was given free rein to create an entire collection for the most prominent company in the wizarding world, all expenses would be paid for her. There would be no sighing over finely spun silk she couldn't afford, no sleepless nights fretting over whether she could make ends meet, no waiting in her studio for someone, anyone to come and buy something. Any sane person would kill for her job.

Granted, there was the little problem in the form of her boss, but nothing was perfect. Well, she didn't expect him to hang around watching her sew buttons. He did have more important things to do after all. Like getting into his secretary's pants.

It didn't take a genius to make out why he hired that airhead. And it was certainly not because of her intelligence.

Shaking herself out of her trance, her eyes caught the wallclock winking at her.

Ten minutes to two. She'd better hurry.

After all, there might be a bouncy bed waiting for her to jump on in the room next door.


"Did Lindsay just tell me you hired Miss Granger, or is my hearing going bad?"

Draco looked up and grinned. "Yes, I hired Granger."

Blaise's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "I'm sorry, I must be mistaken. Did you, Draco Malfoy, just hire Hermione Granger, the Hogwarts golden girl?"

"So what if I did?"

"Well, I thought you hated her guts," reasoned Zabini, making himself comfortable in the chair Granger had earlier in the morning.

"How many times do I have to tell you this? It's just-"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, business," finished Zabini, waving his hands about. "Why did you hire her without telling me?"

Draco snorted. "Excuse me, I had no idea I have to inform my head of operations of every decision I make."

"Which post did you assign her to?"

"It's a secret."

His eyes bulged out unattractively. "A secret?"

"Yes, there's a secrecy clause in the contract," answered Draco.

"And since when did you bother with those overrated pieces of paper?" asked Zabini with a chuckle.

"Trust me, Granger wouldn't get me a coffee without making me sign a ten-page oath on the pain of death."

"It's a wonder she'd do anything for you really, Malfoy," commented Zabini, propping his feet clad in fine leather shoes up on the desk. "Considering the bad blood between you two."

"I told you Zabini-"

"Yeah, yeah, nothing personal and all that crap. But still, it's Granger we're talking about," he continued. "Did you hypnotise her or something?"

"There's something more effective than potions and spells, Zabini."

"And that is?"

There were a few tinkles of coins as they landed on the desk.

"Money," grinned Draco cunningly.

Blaise looked unconvinced. "She must have been in quite a sticky situation, if she agreed to work for you for the sake of money."

"Think whatever you like. I don't have to explain myself to you, nor can I read Granger's mind. Now get the hell out of my office Zabini, I'm done talking."

"Good, you can listen then. I've got plenty of time in my hands-"

"Did it ever occur to you that I may be busy?"

"Busy with what exactly?"

"Business."

Zabini laughed. "Business my arse. You can say her name you know. It's Marie."

"Shut up Zabini."

"Marrrriiieeee oh baby that's right- ow! Are you insane? That bloody hurt!" he cried out, rubbing his forehead where it was starting to bruise from the impact of the quill stand.

"It was supposed to."

"You're so dead when Pansy sees this."

"Yeah, go running to your girlfriend and cry your eyes out Zabini," grinned Draco.

Zabini glared at his boss/life-long friend.

Draco sighed dramatically. "I knew you are thick in the head, but anyone would take that as a cue to leave."

The door then opened with a click and Marie entered.

"Oh," she said daintily. "I didn't know you were in here, Mr Zabini."

"No worries, Marie, I was just leaving," grinned Blaise, plastering his hand to his forehead. "I'll leave you two alone then," he added with a wink at Marie, and shot Draco a look that clearly said "you horny bastard" then closed the door.

"Did you bring the Warner files, Marie?" called out Draco for good measure.

"Oh yes, Mr Malfoy," she answered with a sly smile. "There is a lot to discuss."

Neither noticed when the clock chimed thrice.


Edited 28 May 2012

One more update before I fly to Australia! Thank you for the amazing reviews, everyone! I can't believe this fic has amassed so many readers already. Thank you the 14 of you who listed this fic as a favourite and 34 who put it on alert! I'm really flattered lol. I think it may be two weeks before I update, so here's a snippet of what would come next:

"Do you have any idea how much fabric you just wasted? Washed down the drain, literally?"

Malfoy drawled offhandedly. "No. So sue me. Or better yet, why don't you form one of those stupid societies you're so fond of? You can call it F.A.B.R.I.C. Federation Against Berserk Ruining of Indonesian Cloth. Or W.A.S.T.E.D. War Against Stupid and Terribly Emotional Designers. Actually, I'm planning on join the last one. There really should be laws to protect us innocent citizens from the wrath of radical vegan designers-"

Whack!

"Ow! What in Merlin's name are you do-" whack! "Auugh! You bit-" whack! "Stop! Are you m-" whack! "GRANGER!"

See you! I would reply to your individual reviews later. As for anonymous reviewers, know that I'm very happy to learn that you're really enjoying the story!