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The first step, of course, to any successful endeavor of thievery, was to (as the laymen called it) case the joint.

Draco, as one of the top contributors of Something Something For Children, had ample excuses and opportunities to view the necklace. And view he did, often and eagerly, fingers itching to touch the diamond scales of the snake.

It was being displayed in the daytime, of course, but not at night. When the building it was in closed to the public, the necklace was carried away. It was like clockwork – Draco would conceal himself in an air duct or a closet, and then watch as the necklace moved to a predictably secure area somewhere in the back. And in the morning, before opening, it was carried out again. Thus, he had two obvious options – take it when it was in the safe, or take it en route.

Either would need practice and planning, and a lot deeper knowledge of how their security worked. Draco made and re-made checklists in his head, checked over his gear, and blustered about the charity (in disguise), questioning whether 'his necklace was in good hands'.

He couldn't be in the building all the time, however, as that could raise suspicion – he wasn't that interested in children. Thus, Draco was taking a break one morning at his favourite coffee shop – surprisingly, a cozy café/bookshop midtown rather than a posh coffee bar – when he had his second encounter with the determined police officer.

Except this time, he was Draco Malfoy, not The Dragon.

The lovely woman swept up to the counter, dressed professionally in a suit with comfortable wedges and her frizzy hair only slightly tamed in a bun that was fraying and straining at the edges. Draco liked those edges, wondering what they felt like and if they were a better representation of her personality than the crisp, clean and restrained lines of her suit. Perhaps it was her hair, curling in the sunlight, which made him saunter up to the counter behind her and order another coffee. Perhaps it was that also which prompted him to lean casually on the counter and drawl to her, "Do you put sugar in your coffee?" as he read the name that the barista was currently scrawling on her cup. Hermione.

"Excuse me?" she said, turning to survey Draco with a practiced eye. Her roving gaze didn't flatter him, though he wanted to be flattered – her examination was clinical, deducing things about Draco. Perhaps that he was a pianist, or that the light calluses on his hands indicated consistent exercise but his build was more of a runner. He didn't see 'This is the Dragon" in her eyes, though. After all, they'd only met once. "Are you going to tell me that I don't need it because I'm too sweet?" she continued, eyebrow arching off her face. Draco grinned.

"I was going to ask if you wanted me to pass you the sugar, love," he purred, "But now that you mention it, you seem a bit…. Spicier." It was, perhaps, a terrible line, but it did make one corner of her mouth quirk upwards (the eyebrow stayed where it was) and Draco counted it as a success.

She turned to receive her coffee, and replied, "Try again with a line that has more flavor," and offered a hand to Draco to shake. He would have kissed it, drawing his lips across her knuckles in a way to make her breath hitch and knees go weak, but something in her face said try me, and so he shook it firmly instead, palm warm against hers. "Hermione," she said, to his "Draco." They exchanged lopsided grins, and then Hermione walked out of the shop, turning left towards, presumably, the station at which she worked.

As she left, Draco murmured a response to the unarticulated challenge in her gaze. "I will," he said, receiving his (2 sugar, 3 cream) coffee with renewed intrigue.

…

He wasn't planning on walking into this heist blind. After obtaining the information about what safe that the charity was currently using (the 'concerned investor' route was really working wonders), Draco decided to visit family whose massive house neighbored his family estate… who he happened to know for a fact used the same safe. He was a great friend to the occupants, having grown up with them and probably dated both daughters, as well as having gone to both of said daughters' weddings. Really, he could probably waltz into their home at any time without being questioned.

For this kind of visit, however, he wouldn't be using the front door.

Draco took extra care to pad his shoulders and chest, add kohl around his eyes, and ensure that the mask across the lower half of his face was covered in a dragon pattern that effectively obscured any features like high cheekbones or a sharp chin. He wasn't going to be caught so early in the game, after all, and the weight from a little extra padding wasn't going to kill him.

Finally, around 2 in the morning, Draco made his way to the mansion, suit and all. The outer walls and gate were child's play, as was bypassing the security cameras on the back door. He scaled the climbing vine that conveniently wreathed both of the girls' previous bedroom windows, and it was the work of a moment to disable the alarm on one and slip into the darkened room.

Ah, memories. He gave a large smirk at the sight of the bed, now draped in cloth to keep off the dust, and the smirk stayed in place as he closed the window behind him and stole into the darkened hallway, as familiar with the layout as he was with every line from Robin Hood. The twists and turns to the study were easily traversed, and Draco slipped inside only to be met with another figure in the dark.

Well! The butler, apparently, had the same idea as Draco. Except the butler wasn't at the safe… He was merely stealing loose money from the desk. Plebe. They froze, eyeing one another, and Draco raised a wicked eyebrow (also darkened by kohl) and put a finger to his lips.

The butler ran, after swiping a note or two, and Draco locked the door after him before hurrying to the safe – it appeared that he would have to do this under pressure, as the butler (after collecting himself) would surely tattle. Kneeling by the safe, he ran his gloved hands over it appreciatively, and then set to work.

The combination took more work than he was used to, especially when he was on the clock. Draco listened intently, feeling and listening for the telltale clicks, breathing calmly to keep the sounds of his heart out of his ears. He'd gotten the first two numbers certain when he heard the sounds of a car pulling up, which almost positively belonged to the police.

Well. Generously, Draco mused, he'd give 1 minute for them to enter the house, 1 for the butler to explain and bring them here.

He wavered on the last two numbers and decided on '37', dialing in the combination and hoping that the glass plate inside the door didn't crack. What must have been sheer luck pulled him through, however, and the safe swung open wide. 1 minute. He snatched the only thing he wanted – the heart-shaped sapphire that one of the girls had once promised him – along with one or two items to throw the police off. 30 seconds. He hurried to the window, and then paused. Would he see the lovely detective again, if he stayed?

The door burst open, two cops rolling in with harsh shouts of "FREEZE!" and "HANDS UP!"

Neither of them were Hermione. Hope had been a waste of his precious seconds, and cost him. Draco glanced between the two, who were aiming their guns at his head, and casually said, "You should probably check out the butler. His lack of familial loyalty is quite distressing."

The officers paused, confused, and Draco tsked in a matronly manner before jumping into the night.

...

Disappointing, Draco thought, was one word for last night's sad attempt at a burglary. Also sloppy… weak… and totally unacceptable.

He'd waited by the window, allowed himself to be seen more than once, and had only opened the safe by sheer luck. He almost didn't want the spoils any more, as their sparkling facets only served to remind him of his failure. If he was going to steal that necklace, he was going to have to be more prepared, or else not only would he lose his prize but also quite possibly his freedom. Draco quite liked his freedom, and his hair products, and private shower, and as such he was rather against being caught. That was for amateurs, like the family butler.

Only his knowledge of the family grounds had kept him from being caught, as he sprinted into the trees and waited out the cops in their branches. Finally, hours later, he had returned to his flat – cold, damp, and displeased.

It was not a theft worthy of the Dragon.

Still, his haul had to be cleaned and hidden, and then a short nap taken before, presumably, someone would contact him with the news. Draco awoke to a gentle knock on his door and just had time to arrange his hair into attractive disarray and pull on a silk, open-necked dressing gown before he let the frenetic woman into his apartment.

Amusingly, she was the daughter whose bedroom window he'd climbed into just hours before, and it was that thought that had Draco smiling gently throughout her excited and worried chatter, even though the heist had been such a failure in his eyes.

…

Finally, he managed to usher the chattering woman from his penthouse and dress. He wasn't sure if it was the feeling of failure that had settled in his breastbone or the desire to cross swords with someone of intelligence, but he headed back to his favourite coffee shop, drawn by a lure he couldn't quite name. His luck, apparently, held. When he entered, Hermione was seated by the window, gesturing with an empty coffee cup as she talked angrily on a slim, nondescript cell phone, though her eyes cut to him as he walked in. Draco, pleased, went to the counter and ordered her usual with a twist of cinnamon, as well as a chai latte for himself.

Carrying the two drinks to her table, Draco slid in across from Hermione to hear, "You have to do better than that. I want a psych profile on this guy. You just thought he outed the butler from the kindness of his heart?" She listened to a length explanation, frowning deeply, then ordered, "Psych profile. Now." And snapped her phone shut before her still-stormy gaze met Draco's.

"Have another line for me today?" she bit sarcastically, though her small fingers reached for the coffee cup just the same. Draco handed it over, allowing a smile to twitch to his lips, and made a 'hmm' noise low in his throat as she continued, "Something about falling from heaven, or being hot, or something else?"

The stress on 'something else' made his smile grow, and he put his mug down on the table, leaning in. "Do you ever feel bored?"

That was not what she was expecting, and Hermione paused, cup halfway to her lips, brown eyes locked with Draco's. He jerked his chin at the cup, and added, "That people don't see the bigger picture, that there is so much you can see in the world if only you look? That people see what they want to see? That nobody to be challenged?"

Hermione took a sip of the coffee, eyebrows rising once more at the taste of the cinnamon mixed into her usual drink, but he saw appreciation in her gaze, and interest. Draco smiled, hungrily, and leaned in a little more. "I bet," he purred, "I can give you a challenge."

He waited, eyes locked on the woman, as she considered what he'd said. If he'd misjudged her – if she was ordinary – he'd go. But if she wasn't…

Hermione smiled, slowly and imperiously with her bright red lips, around the rim of her coffee cup. She pinned him in place with her stare, and murmured, "You have thirty seconds to convince me that you're a challenge."

Draco grinned.

"Twenty."

…

A/N:

I actually posted two days in a row! A miracle!

It may be obvious to some that I know little about security. And heists, etc. Still, I hope the plot is enjoyable, and I'm hoping to write more Dramione banter soon!

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

Isefyr