Author Note: This story is supposed to feature a different sense each chapter. Sometimes it's hard to tell which one it is though, since Hermione will enjoy Draco through multiple senses. Just go with it. :D

Concerning Sharon Vernus. Or about working with women. I work in a department of all women, and they are the best. We are all extremely supportive and bend over backwards to help each other. I am fortunate to have never worked closely with someone like Sharon, though I'm sure people like her exist. I don't know anyone named Sharon; it's just a random name I picked. I wrote her for one story, but then she just started being the bad girl in all of my DMHG fanfic. It's funny to me, so that's why I do it.

Lastly, I'm a librarian.

Chapter 2: Smell

One must remember that mirrors, even enchanted ones, are reflections of the person looking within. They illuminate and illustrate, but only what emanates from the inside.

There are, in essence, two kinds of enchanted mirrors. Some are windows that show current realities in other places. Others are reflections that show possible realities-past, present, or future. But they are both reflections of the observer.

Hermione read the words greedily, forcing her eyes not to jump ahead to the next sentence. Having already created a 200-page document on all known magical mirrors (indexed by location, function, creator [if known], date of creation, size, mentions in literature, level of danger, inscription, incantation [if any], and type of reflective surface and frame), she had already poured over unending parchments and tomes on enchanted reflective surfaces for weeks. She had even fought with a book that had been enchanted to (rudely) comment on the reader's appearance, but had found nothing new. Everything seemed to be on existing magical mirrors. Nothing covered the theory or construction of one. Finally, here was something of use. And just in time too!

A mirror of unknown origin and power had been brought to the attention of the Department of Mysteries a month ago. Before it could be transported and kept in the Ministry, its function needed to be determined and, more importantly, if it posed any harm to its users. The acquisition team, which included Malfoy, would be going in two weeks to look into the mirror and needed as much information as possible. As the assigned researcher, she was tasked with preparing that information. And once the initial tests on the mirror had been performed, she would be going on assignment to examine the mirror herself.

It would be her first foray into field work, and she didn't want it to reflect poorly on her. So she had spent the past month practically living in the Library. This, of course, was no hardship for her. Hermione had always loved books, and this was her dream job yet the Library had exceeded even her expectations. It was a living, breathing fairy tale. Based on the Abbey Library of Saint Gall in Switzerland, it too had shelves stacked upon shelves that formed pillars at even intervals that were connected by one long balcony that ran around the perimeter of the building, splitting the space into multiple floors. The bookshelves themselves reached up to a gorgeous, vaulted ceiling covered with intricate paintings.

But instead of wooden bookcases, the pillars in this Department of Mysteries Library were actual oak trees. The stately giants had shelves carved into their trunks, and they stretched into a ceiling that resembled the sky, complete with rolling clouds. Their limbs had been trained to grow outward to the next tree, twining their branches together to provide beautiful wooden flooring (albeit not entirely level). The calming susurration of leaves filled the air as gentle magical breezes danced through the stacks, ruffling the foliage, which had been enchanted to never fall, though their colors changed to reflect the different seasons. The leaves turned color on no timetable that Hermione could discern. Sometimes they would stay the same color for days on end; at other times they would cycle through a whole year of change in a single hour.

Today, like most days, Hermione enjoyed a lovely spring afternoon. On days when she worked really late, the ceiling would darken and she'd be treated to the sight of stars strewn across an inky expanse. Naturally, the books had been warded against all the changes in weather and light, completely impermeable to the elements. But reader beware: the protections on the books did not extend to the library's inhabitants. On occasion, though very rarely, Hermione would enter the Library to find a downpour in progress, with puddles to navigate as she picked her way through the stacks. Because of this, she always carried a rain slicker and umbrella in her extension-charmed bag, which she kept tucked in her robes when she ventured into the aisles.

Most of her time was spent in research, though every other day, she had to spend part of her shift covering the reference desk, receiving requests from the other departments, though those were few and far between. Her office, along with the other librarian offices, were actually situated outside of the library, probably so they wouldn't have to contend with the elements. Preferring to be as close to the books as possible, she had created a space for herself in an alcove, practically hidden at the very back of the topmost floor, which she had discovered a few weeks into the job. Casting every shelter and climate control spell she could think of, she had created her own little reading nook.

And there she sat, reading in her leafy bower, surrounded by piles of books and scrolls, hemmed in by these little towers of knowledge. She was just about to start reading again when her stomach rumbled. Thankfully, no one else was around; indeed, no one even seemed to know of her favorite library haunt. Her stomach's impression of an irate wampus cat belonged to her and her alone. A quick glance at a clock told her that she'd read through her normal lunch time. Her stomach growled again, and she could almost feel it turning in on itself in an attempt to devour something in its hunger. Magic Mirrors in Your Hall would have to wait just a little bit longer.

Having decided to visit Diagon Alley for a quick bite, Hermione picked up her book and strolled out of the Library and towards the break room, only tearing her eyes away from its pages long enough to make sure she opened the correct door. She had just rounded the corner to the cloak room, when she bumped into someone.

"Excuse you! Watch where you're going!"

Startled, Hermione looked up to find an irate Sharon Vernus. "Sorry. I was reading," she said.

"When are you not?" Sharon said with a sigh of disgust. "I swear, you always have your nose buried in a book."

Hermione's brow furrowed. What was wrong with that?

Thankfully, Sharon didn't seem to expect any response as she just kept on walking.

Hermione scanned the page, trying to find where she had left off. Still reading, she managed to make it to the cubby where she'd stashed her coat earlier that day without further incident.

Some magic mirrors reveal the inside, while some reveal the outside, but they are always reflections of the observer. For instance, a mirror that shows what is taking place somewhere else still shows the viewer a location that is of interest to them or related to them in some way, even if the connection is not readily clear.

Hermione absentmindedly shrugged on one sleeve of her coat as she slowly weaved her way through the Atrium to the gilded fireplaces to Floo to Diagon Alley. Once in front of the mantel, she closed her book and carefully enunciated her destination. She didn't have time to deal with any misdirection today. With her book clutched tightly to her chest, she shut her eyes so she wouldn't get dizzy as she zoomed through the Floo Network.

When she opened her eyes again, it was to see the bustling shopping district through a wall of green flames.

What was not visible, but became evident immediately, was the terrible, bone-chilling cold. She had been lulled into a false sense of warmth by her Library, which had given her a balmy spring day even though it was the middle of winter.

"Good Godric!" Hermione yelped as she stepped out from the Floo and its relative shelter into even more frigid air. Needing to free her hands, she secured her book between her knees and hurriedly pulled on the rest of her coat.

And just as suddenly, she was enveloped in heat.

That was odd. She didn't have temperature regulation enchantments weaved into her overcoat. Indeed, she'd always thought them a waste of money when a simple warming charm would suffice. She had never been more mistaken in her life.

It was like being wrapped in a blanket taken right from the dryer. Sitting the perfect distance from a fireplace while sipping hot chocolate. Opening an oven and pulling out freshly-baked snickerdoodle cookies. Letting the steam from a just-brewed cup of tea caress the tip of your cold nose. Being enfolded in a pair of strong arms against the muscular chest of a handsome coworker.

Hermione groaned at the last thought. Stupid Primamore potion, making her see things she could never unsee. It had been nearly two months since the incident in the Love Chamber. Long enough for Hermione to know that she'd never be able to look at Draco Malfoy the same way again.

Hermione glared down her length, trying to solve the mystery of the provenance of this miraculous garment. Anything to distract her from thoughts of Malfoy.

The coat's sleeves trailed far past her fingertips and stopped at her knees instead of at her thigh. Clearly, this wasn't her coat. It was also too big to be Sharon's or Felicia's-thankfully. Hermione didn't even want to think of the awkwardness and irritation that would have inevitably come with returning the coat to either of those women. So she didn't. Instead, she reveled in the small slice of heaven that existed within the coat's confines.

Just then a freezing gust of air blew past her. Hermione pulled the collar up around her face to guard against the bracing cold and nearly whimpered. The material there was so soft. She held it to her face, rubbing her cheek against it and sighed. On her next breath, she closed her eyes, blissfully inhaling the smells of...Was that parchment and soap? She sniffed again. With an undertone of sandalwood? Where had she smelled that before?

"Am I interrupting a private moment?"

Hermione screamed, and the book she had pinned between her knees tumbled to the ground. She spun around, her eyes wide. "Malf-" she said just as she tripped over the fallen book and stumbled into his arms as he stepped out of the green flames.

Once again her cheek was pressed against his chest.

"I see you found my coat."

The coat—the glorious, life-changing, transcendent coat-belonged to Draco Malfoy?

Of course it did. She had been stupid and slow to think otherwise.

Mustering as much dignity as she could, Hermione stood up straight and took a couple of steps back. Malfoy's hands fell from her elbows.

"I was wondering where it had run off to. It seemed impossible that it had grown legs and wandered away, but given my line of work I should have known better."

Malfoy's eyes slid down her form, pausing pointedly at the legs that had wandered away with this coat. They were bare and exposed to the elements. How else to explain why they were suddenly covered with goosebumps?

"Wh-what are you d-doing?" Hermione stuttered, watching in stunned disbelief as he knelt at her feet.

Malfoy gracefully stood back up and held out her book to her. "I believe you dropped this from between your legs."

Hermione's cheeks burned with embarrassment. "This isn't what it seems."

Malfoy raised one of his pale eyebrows. "You needn't explain. It's no business of mine where you store your reading materials."

Hermione snatched her book from him, ignoring the jolt of electricity that traveled through her when their fingers brushed against each other. Belatedly, she thought of her book. Carefully she inspected it for any damage. Thank Godric! There was none, most likely due to the protection spells to which all the Library books had been subjected.

Given the circumstances under which they had been reintroduced in the Love Chamber, a little discombobulation and distraction in Malfoy's presence was to be expected. She had, after all, stared at him while experiencing the effects of a potion meant to induce the physiological responses of first love. Her body knew what it felt like to be in love with Malfoy, and, nearly two months later, it had not forgotten. And as for her mind...under normal circumstances, she would have dismissed her thundering heart and fluttering stomach, much in the same way she could close a book that had a gorgeous cover, but inside was full of unlikable characters, inexplicable plot devices, and second-person narration. But these were not normal circumstances. Malfoy was extremely fanciable, and her interactions with him since the Love Chamber had done nothing to diminish him in her eyes.

It was all very disorienting, and she needed to reframe this or she might never recover. But how to go about doing that?

Malfoy tilted his head to the side, brow furrowing. Waving his hand in front of her, he asked, "Are you alright, Hermione?"

He shouldn't call her that. Not when the sound of her name in his elegant accent made her heart pound. Hermione closed her eyes, then raised her hand to her forehead. Right. Use your words. She breathed in slowly to compose herself, but instead inhaled his familiar scent. It did nothing to calm her trembling heart.

Opening her eyes, she gazed straight at him. "I was holding the book between my knees while I put on your coat."

"So you admit to stealing my coat," he said, the right side of his mouth lifting.

Hermione pressed her lips together, determined not to smile back. "I did no such thing. At least not intentionally. I was so engrossed in my reading that I didn't realize I had grabbed the wrong coat. I was in the general area of the cubby I had selected this morning and accidentally took your coat, thinking it was mine."

She braced herself for a verbal trouncing. Welcomed it, actually. Anything to return them to their status quo.

"Ah. We must be cubby neighbours today," he said.

Hermione stared at his pale, pink lips. Cubby neighbours? This was her childhood enemy, known for his cruel and vicious mouth. This was the best he could do?

"I apologize. I was reading," she said, too stunned to say anything else. She flinched, realizing she had already said that.

"As one does when one's a librarian. There's nothing to apologize for."

"There's not?" Hermione asked. She fully expected Malfoy to share Sharon Vernus's opinion on her reading habits.

Hermione was at a loss for words. Who was this man standing before her?

"Though I thought your profession prided itself on attention to detail. What would Madam Pince say?"

Again with the playful tone. Realising he expected her to say something, she lamely offered, "The coats are both black."

"True. And they both have a very masculine cut. I can see how you could confuse my coat with yours."

This was more like it, but the insult was mild. And when spoken in such a teasing manner, with his grey eyes sparkling, and that formerly cruel and vicious mouth curved into a smirk, it felt much more like flirting.

"I believe this belongs to you."

Malfoy held out her coat to her, and Hermione frowned. Perhaps her coat was a little masculine looking. Hermione was no slave to fashion, and it was quite possible she bought the garment in the men's department. Though she might have to reconsider her fashion choices in the future. Malfoy's coat was magnificent. So very soft and warm and fragrant.

"I suppose, in a way, it does fit other librarian stereotypes."

A spike of anger coursed through her as she imagined herself being compared with Sharon Vernus, who most definitely did not fit whatever frumpy and dowdy librarian image that Malfoy had conjured up. Hermione snatched her coat and tucked it under her arm. "My clothes, while not as feminine as some of my coworkers, are at least functional," she said in clipped tones.

Her anger seemed to increase his mirth. His eyes practically gleamed as he spoke, "No need to get prickly. I wasn't referring to your clothes. No one would ever mistake you for a man, no matter what you wore."

Hermione blushed and stared pointedly at her shoes.

"But you must admit with your head always in a book, you can sometimes be too busy to attend to what's going on right in front of you, let alone what you're wearing."

"That is not true. I am extremely observant," she said. Much to her detriment. She couldn't seem to stop noticing everything about him. The brilliant white teeth, the flush that colored his high cheekbones, the beautiful arctic depths of his eyes, and his tall, strong form. Not to mention his elegant hands and well-groomed fingernails. And don't even get her started on his moonbeam hair.

"When it's something you're interested in or find important, yes. But to my point, I was in the cloak room when you grabbed my coat, and you walked right past me."

"Then why didn't you say anything?!"

"I did, and you ignored me. I must say, it hurt my feelings."

Hermione's eyes widened. "It wasn't on purpose. If I had known-"

The corner of his mouth curved up again, and Hermione's eyes narrowed. "You're teasing me, aren't you?"

"Perhaps."

Hermione ignored the heat creeping over her cheeks. "Why do I get the feeling you enjoy laughing at me?"

"Probably because I do," he said, though he did not actually laugh. What would that sound like, she wondered.

"Well, I think my coat is perfectly adequate. What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"Nothing. My coat looks excellent on you."

"Well, thank you," she said, choosing to be mollified. "And thank you for returning my coat."

"You're welcome."

She nodded at him, smiling. This was pleasant, insults to her sartorial choices aside. Perhaps this was their new status quo, and what was wrong with that? Who would have thought she and Malfoy could have a regular conversation after what had passed between them at Hogwarts? Gone was the horrible boy that slung vile insults and looked down at her, all while hiding behind the robes of his mommy and daddy. He'd been such a horrid brat, but now...truly, he had grown up, and grown on her.

She had seen his body in a new light, but he kept showing her that he was a different person too.

Much to her astonishment, Malfoy was the most pleasant thing about working in the Department of Mysteries. Well, apart from her books, but that went without saying. In all their interactions, he was professional and attentive, clever and charming, thoughtful and intelligent. It was with dawning trepidation that she realized that Malfoy was more than a beautiful cover. He had an intricate and cohesive plot, lilting prose, complex characters with magnetic personalities who were enemies-to-lovers to boot, witty repartee, and in-depth world-building. She would love to spend time becoming familiar with his pages. In fact, she highly suspected he would become her favorite if she let him.

Malfoy shivered. The sudden motion made Hermione blink as she came out of her Malfoy-induced trance.

Had his cheeks always been such a bright red?

"Are you-" she cleared her throat. Godric, she sounded like a little mouse. She didn't mean to be so obvious about her tiny crush on Malfoy. Come to think of it, hadn't Harry said Malfoy was a Legilimens? Or was it an Occlumens? But who was she kidding? Even if he couldn't read minds, she was sure her eyes would give her mild infatuation away. Best to minimize eye contact.

"Are you alright?" she asked more forcefully, though still looking at her toes.

"Bloody hell! It's so cold my testicles have retracted like a frightened turtle."

Hermione's eyes widened and her eyes snapped to Malfoy's in shock. The language didn't surprise her. She'd heard much worse from Ron and Harry. But though she remembered Malfoy's mouth as cruel and vicious, it had never been uncouth.

Malfoy pointed to a group of raucous teenage boys walking by. "That was them. Not me. I can assure you that-"

Hermione waved her hands furiously, somehow not ready to contemplate anything related to Malfoy's nether regions. She was having enough trouble handling his public parts. "That's quite alright. You don't need to tell me about your testicles."

Malfoy smiled. "Do you always blush so much? Well, you can relax. I was only going to say that I'd never talk about something like that in front of you."

"Thank you," Hermione said, forcing herself to look him in the eyes, which were twinkling mischievously.

"That's not a conversation to be had until we've worked with each other for at least three months."

Hermione shook her head, unable to keep the grin from her face. "You really are something else."

Malfoy shivered again, and she realized, "Oh my gosh. You're cold. Why didn't you tell me?! I would have cast a warming charm. Please, take your coat. I forgot I was wearing it."

He looked relieved, and she realized that had she not said anything, he would not have asked for his coat back.

"I'd offer to wear yours, but I doubt it would fit," he said.

Hermione's eyes skimmed over his upper body, his strength clearly visible through his form-fitting robes. "No, you're too broad in the shoulders," she said, biting her lip. When she realized what she was doing, she started. "Merlin," she groaned, raising her hands to her cheeks, "it's so cold, I can't think straight."

Thoroughly mortified, she tried to tear off his coat, but only fumbled her own coat and book in the process. Somehow, Malfoy managed to catch both before they fell to the ground.

Were these the Seeker reflexes Harry always bragged about? That would certainly explain Malfoy's physique.

"Allow me."

Before Hermione could figure out what he was asking for to actually grant him permission, Malfoy had disappeared behind her. Hermione held her breath, then exhaled sharply when his fingers brushed against her neck. They were surprisingly not freezing. Had he cast a warming charm before he touched her neck? How thoughtful. His fingers dipped under the collar of the coat, and he gently moved her hair out of the way, over her shoulder. Given that her hair was an unruly, riotous mass of curls, it took a couple of tries, but he worked patiently. And when he succeeded, he tucked the curls closest to her face behind her ear. Meanwhile, Hermione could not move; she could not breathe. Just stood there, his touch as binding as a Petrificus Totalus.

"I've always wondered what it would take to derail a brain such as yours. Who knew it would be something as simple as the cold?"

Hermione nodded, unable to speak. Brightest witch of her age, she knew exactly what had derailed her thoughts, and it wasn't the testicle-retracting chill. Would it be too much to hope that Malfoy truly believed it was the cold-in spite of the fact that they'd attended school in northern Scotland, where the winters were not mild. She was staring at the answer right in front of her. Well, not quite staring as he stood behind her and she was having the darndest time maintaining eye contact with him.

Malfoy eased the coat off her shoulders, and she shivered. From the loss of heat.

Hermione again placed the book between her knees to free her hands. He slipped her coat back on her, and he uttered another warming spell under his breath. She shoved her hands in her pockets, finding the tube of strawberry chapstick she kept there. Pulling it out, she quickly put some on her lips, which felt chapped from the cold, and slipped it back into her pocket. A rustle behind her indicated that he had put his coat on as well.

"Thank you for keeping it warm for me," he said.

"You're welcome, though I think it's the temperature regulation enchantment rather than me," she said, now squeezing her book in her hands, trying to keep from fidgeting.

She felt him still, close at her back. A shadow fell over her book's cover as he read over her shoulder, "Magic Mirror in Your Halls? Anything useful?"

Hermione spun around, unsettled by how he loomed over her. She had to lean back to look him in the general direction of his face. "I think I may be on to something, but it's too soon to-"

The sound of a snarling nundu interrupted her, as her stomach chose that moment to make itself known. One of these days, she'd speak to Malfoy without getting flustered or embarrassing herself. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be today.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to talk your ear off. Besides, I should be going. As I'm sure you heard, I'm starving. Thanks for bringing me my coat. Goodbye."

She turned and began to walk away when he called out after her, "Where are you headed?"

"I was going to grab something from The Pot and The Kettle." It was a small place without much to recommend it, but Hermione was in a hurry, and there never seemed to be a line there.

Malfoy's nose wrinkled slightly. No doubt his inner snob was making itself known, but he quickly schooled his face back to normal. "I recently had some roasted mushrooms and polenta at The Tempest and The Teapot. It was delicious, and it would go well on such a cold day. I think you'd also like the décor."

"Why's that?"

"The walls are lined with books. Every time I go I think, 'Hermione would love this.'"

"Oh," Hermione blinked, pleasantly surprised that Malfoy thought of her outside of work. "I've never been. I don't even know where it is."

He took a step back, looking ready to say goodbye, but then Malfoy clenched his jaw. She noticed it had the effect of making his high cheekbones even more pronounced. "Actually, I had a few things I wanted to discuss with you about the mirror we're procuring. If you wouldn't mind some company, I could show you where the restaurant is."

Hermione debated. She had intended to grab a quick bite to go and return immediately to researching. Sitting down at a restaurant, one that Malfoy apparently frequented often and therein thought of her, would not help her get over her Malfoy problem in the slightest.

But was it really a problem?

It wasn't a question Hermione was ready to answer. Though perhaps she could gain the information she needed over a bowl of creamy polenta.

Besides, it was for work. Strictly business.

She had taken so long in answering that Malfoy bowed his head. "Perhaps another time."

"No! I mean, I'd like that. Lead the way."

Hermione opened the book, trying to determine what would be most helpful for him to know before he tested the new mirror.

Before she could settle on something to say, Malfoy spoke. "How are you enjoying your new job?" he said as he started to walk in the direction of the café. He turned back after a few steps and looked at her.

"Oh!" Hermione's face lit up in a smile as it did every time she thought about work. "I love it," she said, snapping the book closed as she hurried to catch up with him.

To Be Continued

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