CHAPTER FOUR: The lunch
Hermione Granger was standing in front of the mirror, cursing herself for caring about her looks. She knew her standard elegant outfit would be perfectly suitable, but somehow it was not good enough for her. She wanted to look stern, confident, powerful but had no idea how to achieve that. The only person who knew anything about fashion was somewhere in Slovakia right now – probably flying on her broom and throwing balls around – and getting paid for that. And, let's be honest, Luna was definitely not one to get fashion advice from. So Hermione was standing in front of the mirror in her formal black dress, giving herself a stern look and asking herself if she looked powerful enough.
You're a bloody Minister – you don't have to look powerful. You are powerful, she said to herself, pointing threateningly to the mirror and surprisingly, found herself feeling better. She braided her hair and gave herself a determined look.
Let's go then, she said to her reflection but didn't move an inch. Finally, she sighed, shook her head and headed towards the doors.
She quickly apparated and a second later was walking briskly to the entrance of the Ministry of Magic.
Focusing on work was impossible. It was pointless not thinking about the upcoming lunch. Hermione just took a binder where some documents only needed her signature and a stamp – she was happy that she managed to do anything.
Hermione decided to stop overthinking things. She got up, informed Astoria she might be late from the lunch break and went out. Obviously, it wasn't easy, but the least she could do was stop wondering whether she should say "hello" or "hi".
When she arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, Malfoy was already there. Her heart started pounding and her palms – sweating. Why was she so nervous? It was supposed to be stressful for him, not her. She was just doing the interview – it was Malfoy, who should be worried about leaving a good impression.
He was sitting at the nearby table, looking around with a "maybe-I-should-just-get-out-of-here" sort of look. He was dressed way too nice for this place. The tables and chair didn't even seem to be black compared to his robes. Hermione sat down opposite him, and he gave her a surprised look.
"Do you really want to eat here?" he asked in a hushed voice so that no one could overhear.
"Hello to you too. What, this place doesn't meet Malfoys' standards?"
He rolled his eyes.
"Unless you want to eat under the surveillance of every possible witch and wizard staring at us, then yes. It doesn't meet Malfoys' standards."
She looked around – it was hard to admit, but he was right. All of the eyes in the room were turned on them. Even the bartender froze while wiping a glass, staring at them with a shock on his face.
"Fine," she snarled. "Let's go."
They stood up and left, all of the eyes on them – not one person would move or even breathe. Once they closed the door, they heard a usual bustling inside the bar. They looked at each other, both clearly uncomfortable.
"Okay. So maybe you were sort of right. Where to, then?" asked Hermione.
"I have an idea," he said and gestured so that she would follow him.
She frowned but went after him.
"Do you plan on telling me where we're going?" she asked suspiciously.
"It's a good restaurant. They serve those… lobster things," Malfoy gestured for the lack of the word.
She stopped, rooted to the spot. He looked at her with resignation.
"What?" he asked.
"You're telling me Draco Malfoy is taking me to a fancy, muggle restaurant? Is this your plot to get a job?"
"Where am I supposed to take you, McDonald's?" he asked, impatiently gesturing to follow him.
"How do you even know-"
"Would you quit acting so dense, Granger? I had to go somewhere after the war, didn't I?. It's not like I was warmly greeted in our world," he frowned, watching her intently to make sure she wouldn't stop in her tracks again.
"But-"
"Here it is," he said, pointing at the opposite side of the road. It was rather small, comparing to other fancy restaurants on the street. They crossed the street, and Draco opened the black door made of glass and gestured so that she would come in first.
"Are you acting like a gentleman because of the restaurant or a job?" she asked, frowning.
"Both," he grinned. Hermione couldn't remember whether she'd ever seen him with a genuine smile that wasn't a confident smirk or a result of evil satisfaction of bullying.
"Hello," a tall brunette in a waitress uniform with surprisingly rosy cheeks greeted them at the entrance. She was smiling politely. "A table for two?"
"Yes, please," replied Malfoy.
"Would you prefer a table in the back, more secluded, or by the window?" she asked.
He turned to Hermione.
"W-What? I don't know!" she whispered urgently, suddenly terrified that she was suddenly thrown into decision-making.
"By the window will be fine," Malfoy smiled politely.
"Of course, sir, ma'am. If you'll please follow me".
The waitress took two menus and showed them to a table with a view of the rainy street. There weren't many people in the restaurant – but not all of the clients were dressed super fancy, so Hermione let out a sigh of relief. Just another restaurant for the upper-middle-class that decided to have one fancy lunch a month or a fortnight. Only one couple looked like rich snobs.
A moment later, another waiter came to their table.
"Would you want me to light the candles?" he suddenly asked, and Hermione looked at him with pure dread in her eyes.
"No, thank you, it's a business meeting," she said as calmly as she could, even though she saw, in the corner of her eye, Malfoy tried to stifle a laugh.
"Of course, ma'am. I wish you good luck. We'll be back for your order soon, but would you like something to drink?"
"Just two glasses of red wine, please," said Draco and Hermione had to really, really try not to kick him in the shin.
When the waiter left with a polite nod, she turned to him furiously.
"Red wine? What is this?" she hissed.
"It's a fancy restaurant," he said, raising his arms defensively. "They'd look weird at you if you didn't take anything with at least 10% of alcohol in it. We should fit in, no?"
"Why are we even here?"
"Because the Leaky Cauldron was full of people who eagerly saw scandal arising right at their noses. When you see the headlines tomorrow morning, I'd just like to politely remind you that it was you who suggested meeting in this place."
"Don't be ridiculous, I'm sure they—"
"Granger, the only thing that would be more scandalous than us having lunch together would be if we had dinner together. That's basically engagement if you let Rita Skeeter find out."
She grimaced but knew he was right. That may not have been very smart of her. But she just wanted the whole thing to be over, so she suggested the most easily accessible place.
"Or if you had dinner with Harry," she suggested.
"That is true," he snorted.
When the waiter came back with their wine and took their order, he turned to her with a straight face.
"Look, I don't know how else to convince you. I know I've made mistakes, and not ones that people tend to forgive. I don't deserve your forgiveness. I've done bad, horrible things, and I know that. I did it to protect my family, and this is the part – the only part of it that I actually don't regret. I know that instead of becoming a Death Eater, I should've gone straight to Dumbledore for protection, even if it meant less than fifty per cent chance at surviving. But I didn't, and there were many factors: my ego, the need to impress my father, the need to be the best at something, the need to prove myself, the need to protect my family, the need to feel better about myself, to be envied, to—"
"Stop," she said, raising her hand. "Just… Stop. You don't have to tell me all that."
"I know," he replied, looking at her so intently, she had to look the other way.
There was a silence for a second, where Hermione stared out of the window. The rain didn't stop. People were speeding down and up the street with umbrellas or with hoods on.
"Look," he said calmly after a while. "My point is, I've done bad things, and I can't take them back. One thing that keeps me sane is believing I've done them for at least one good reason, as opposed to other countless bad ones. And you don't have to agree with me – but you have to understand. I want this nightmare to be over. I want to be here, where I belong. In my home. With all the hateful and spiteful looks, with suspicion and lack of any trust whatsoever, but here, home."
She looked at him uncertainly. He really did look genuine. His pale face didn't have its usual signs of false and insincerity. She could see the remorse somewhere in his cold, grey eyes, which were always clouded with hatred whenever he looked at her back at school. His thin lips also didn't leave a sign of a smirk – just genuine sadness. And tiredness, seen visibly because of the bags under his eyes. She stared at him for a long time when the waiter came with their food, staring at them suspiciously. At the moment, they may not have looked like on a business meeting.
He left her to her thoughts, seeing as she was furrowing her brows thoughtfully, nibbling her food at the same time. She kept putting her hair behind the ear because even though she had a braid, they kept breaking free.
"I think… I think I know what to do," said Hermione quietly when he finished his food. She barely even touched her salmon. If she knew being a Minister would include such responsibilities, she would think twice about agreeing to this job.
He looked at her with patient anticipation.
"I'm going to hire you, Malfoy. On a condition. You're going to come to my office once a week with a report and a short evaluation. A report will be written by your boss and other employees. I trust you know better than to tamper with these because I will find out. Then, a short talk with me, based on what I'll read in the report. Also, we are going to keep a close eye on you. We cannot just let former Death Eaters stroll around the Ministry. I hope you know that your job will affect magical children. I hope you're up to the task and that you understand that I must take precautions."
"Of course, Madame Minister," he grinned. She sighed but eventually couldn't help but to smile back.