Chapter Two
"I swear Malfoy, make one more comment about my hair and I will hex you."
He smirked, eyeing her as he wanted to say something else, but refrained. Wise, on his part. Hermione wasn't in the mood. She'd stayed up most of the night reviewing her notes, only to hit dead end after dead end.
"Granger."
"What."
"Your notes make no sense."
Her head snapped up and she held out a hand for the papers, "give it here. Where are you confused?"
He placed the paper in front of her, tapping a long, pale finger. "Muggle means of disposal? The bodies were left at the scene of the crime, in their… state. That hardly screams muggle to me."
"I believe the bodies were moved from the original crime seen, Malfoy." She pushed the papers back towards him.
His eyes narrowed. "How could you possibly know that?"
"I don't. It's a theory. Honestly."
He muttered something underneath his breath, but she ignored him, pulling a new set of papers towards her. He leaned back in his chair and scowled at her, tapping his fingers atop the desk. "Granger," he all but snarled.
"Malfoy."
"If you'd be so kind," he leaned forward, "could you please explain yourself? I'm dying of curiousity."
Godric, he got under her skin. She took a calming breath before speaking. "The bodies were found in fairly public places, in the late afternoon, merely hours after death, which means the victims were murdered during the busiest time of day, just steps from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes? And they were never heard or seen?"
"You've got a point there, Granger," he grabbed a paper and scribbled a little note. "I'll elaborate on your theory while you get us coffee."
"What?"
He looked up. "Surely you know where the coffee maker is?"
"Get your own damn coffee."
His tongue rolled against the inside of his cheek and he looked to be suppressing a smirk. He pushed to his feet. "Fine," he sauntered towards the door, twirling his wand in his fingers, "I'll go myself."
Hermione leaned back over her notes. "Get me one too."
"Get your own damn coffee."
Malfoy stormed back into the office, looking furious. "Are they out of coffee?" Hermione asked, eyeing his empty hands.
"Potter interviewed a subject," he snapped. "Without letting either of us be present."
"What?"
He took a seat and pulled a fresh piece of parchment towards himself and began to write furiously. "I don't care if he's the bloody boy who lived," he growled to himself as he wrote, "he's going to follow protocol."
"Who are you writing to?"
"The minister," he said. "One of us is going to be present next time he rushes into an interrogation. It's a wonder his head of the office!"
Hermione secretly agreed. Though Harry was her best friend, she often wondered if he should be head of the office. He was hardly the most qualified wizard; he was capable, yes, but he lacked the experience needed to do the job. She hated to agree with Malfoy, but he had a point.
"I'm going to go get his notes from the meeting," if there even were any.
"Going warn him about my letter, are you?" Malfoy sneered down at the parchment.
Hermione sniffed. "Of course not. He didn't follow protocol."
Malfoy's head snapped up. He looked surprised. It quickly slid into his usual smirk. "Well well well Granger," he drawled, "Taking my side over Potter's? I knew you liked me."
She rolled her eyes and scoffed before leaving the room.
Hermione walked into Harry's office only to find Ron sitting in the seat opposite him. The stress drained from her body and she smiled brightly at him as he stood and gave her a hug. Ron hadn't gone into Ministry work like her and Harry; he'd decided to work at the joke shop with George, a job that seemed to make him really happy.
"Hey Mione," he grinned. "How's your day?"
"Oh, you know," she said, glancing slyly at Harry, "A few idiots are making it difficult to do my job."
"About that," Harry said, looking sheepish, "I-"
"I already heard," she cut him off, eyes narrowing. "You're supposed to bring Malfoy and I into every interview."
He started to speak but she just waved him off, "I know you don't like him, Harry," she said, "but regardless, he's on the case. You have to treat him like he's on the case. When you do not do so, you hurt me as well as him. I need your notes."
"Sorry," he gave her an apologetic grin as he reached for a piece of parchment on his desk, "it just seemed like such a bother…"
"Protocol is not a bother." She said. She took the parchment then turned to face Ron. "So why are you here?"
"I actually came to tell Harry- and you- that sunday dinner has been moved to saturday night."
Hermione frowned. "What for?"
Ron seemed to be bursting with news, his smile wide and his face flushed. "You'll see," the tips of his ears were pink, "Luna and I have an announcement."
A year after the battle of Hogwarts, everyone had been surprised to see Ron and Luna to start dating. Everyone had expected Hermione to be hurt- angry, even- but she'd been thrilled. She loved Ron, and yes, they'd had a moment, but she'd honestly been… relieved. Ron wasn't meant for her.
A year after that, the pair had gotten married. Hermione had been the maid of honor, Harry, the best man.
"Bring dates," he emphasised, looking at Hermione. She scowled at him. The comment had been directed at her, that much was obvious with Harry being married to Ginny. The boys were worse that women, constantly nagging her about her personal life. After the war, everyone had moved on, paired off and found happiness in each other while Hermione had… gotten a job.
"This again?" She complained. "Honestly Ronald-"
"Bring a date," he said threateningly, "or don't come."
Her jaw dropped. "What?"
He grinned. "You heard me. Bring a date, or don't come. You can find out my surprise through the grapevine. I mean it, Hermione. If I have to listen to my mother badger you about settling down, I'll strangle someone. Bring a date. Merlin's beard, bring anyone!"
She walked back into the office. Malfoy was pouring over the documents. He'd shrugged off his robes and suit jacket. He'd loosened his tie and the buttons on his shirt, rolling the white sleeves up to his elbows. His silky hair looked as if he'd recently ran his fingers through it. Good looking bastard, she thought miserably.
Then she got an idea.
"Malfoy," she took her seat, "have you got any plans for saturday?"