Hermione was oddly jittery for the rest of the day. Things felt different now: Draco wasn't quite as distant (although that might just be her imagination), and they worked together more easily, effortlessly picking up one another's train of thought.

Over the next week, she caught Draco staring on more than one occasion, though he promptly turned back to his notes any time she met his eyes. When her back was turned, she could feel his intense gaze on her often enough to know that it wasn't an accident. Their conversations were pleasant, but purely professional, so Hermione tried not to read too much into it.

When they'd been gathering data early on in the project, Hermione and Draco had interviewed all his previous (unofficial) clients. To Hermione's delight, they'd also conducted some phone interviews with several of his Muggle professors. She was shocked by how casually he engaged with them, smoothly avoiding anything that might violate the Statute of Secrecy while extracting relevant, helpful information. More surprising had been how genuinely happy they'd seemed that Draco had reached out. He had always received good marks, but she didn't think she'd ever heard anyone call him "a sheer delight" before. She still wondered if she'd hallucinated that part of the conversation.

With Theo's therapy progressing well, Hermione asked if they should bring him in for an interview as well. Draco reacted by nearly choking on his tea as he let out a wry laugh. "Trust me, Granger, you do not want to invite Theodore Nott anywhere near the Ministry of Magic."

"I don't understand. We've had Pansy and Blaise both come in, so why—"

"No— no, Granger… Theo is…" —his lips quirked up in a smile that he was clearly struggling to suppress— "unpredictable. He could be a complete gentleman, or, more likely, he'll smuggle in illegal artefacts just to prove that he can, and plant them in various Ministry official's offices. Then to top it off, he'd use the emergency Floo system to anonymously tip off the DMLE with a report of unauthorised Dark Artefact possession."

"That is…" Hermione began, eyes narrowing in suspicion, "strangely specific."

"There may have been a similar incident at Hogwarts… allegedly…"

She laughed. "What?"

"You'll have to ask Blaise about it sometime. He tells it best." Now he was definitely smiling, and she couldn't help but laugh again.

Draco resisted as much as he could, but by the end of the day, he reluctantly agreed to bring Theo in for an interview tomorrow. He'd had to concede that Theo had made enough progress to allow for a discussion, and he hadn't been able to come up with any effective counter-arguments that satisfied Hermione.

As he was packing up to leave, Draco attempted to dissuade her again. "For the record, I think bringing Theo in is a terrible idea. But, I do look forward to being able to say 'I told you so' tomorrow."

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed, shaking her head. "So overdramatic." He smirked at her in that way that made her distinctly uncomfortable.

"Oh, Granger," he purred, shrugging into his cloak, "we are going to have so much fun."

She suppressed the shiver that ran down her spine and desperately tried to ignore the warmth that spread through her. But if the lethal smile he gave her when he passed her was any sign, she'd failed miserably in keeping colour from blooming on her cheeks and neck.

"Where are you going? Theo's going to be here any minute," Hermione said, checking her watch as Draco stood and walked towards the door. He stretched his arms across his body as he went, and she bit her lip when the motion caused his shirt to pull taut across his shoulders, outlining the musculature of his back.

"Oh, I know. I'm going to grab some tea. I'd go for something stronger, but Potter seems a little too uptight to keep any good stuff around here. Don't worry, I wouldn't leave you to deal with him alone. Even I'm not that cruel."

He returned a few minutes later with three mugs. "Thought you might want some. I already added cream and sugar for you."

"Oh, thank you," she said, startled. She hadn't realised that he knew how she fixed her tea. Interesting.

Before long, Theo strode through the door and seated himself at the table, appearing perfectly at ease.

"Afternoon Hermione, Drake," he said amicably. Hermione snorted at hearing Draco addressed as "Drake" and he scowled. Suddenly, the smile froze on Theo's face, turning to a look of horror. "What… is… this?" he said, disgusted.

"Theo, what's wrong?" She looked around in confusion, noting Draco hiding a smirk behind his mug.

"Who the fuck is in charge around here?" Theo yelled, his chair clattering to the floor as he stood.

Hermione startled to her feet. "Sweet Circe, Theo, just calm down and—"

"Calm down? Calm down?! This is a human rights violation… a goddamn war crime, for Merlin's sake!"

Harry burst into the room, wand in one hand, mug of tea in the other. "What's going on I heard— Nott?" The mug dropped from his fingers as his jaw dropped open.

In a casual display of wandless magic (she didn't know how he made something so hard look so easy), Draco caught the mug midair and levitated it back to the table without spilling a drop. It was then that Hermione realised he was sitting, unperturbed, and sipping his tea, while his eyes sparkled with barely concealed delight. She narrowed her eyes at him, and he winked at her. He winked at her. Since when does Draco Malfoy wink?

Theo whirled on Harry, forcing him to take a step back. "You? Are you the one in charge here?"

"Um… yes?" Harry replied, looking questioningly between them. Hermione shrugged; she was clueless — but she had a feeling Draco knew exactly what was going on.

"What's your excuse, Potter?" he spat. "Budget cuts?"

"Nott, I have no bloody idea what you're on about. Will you lower your voice? The entire bloody department can probably hear you."

Placing a hand on his chest, he let out an offended gasp. "As they should, Potter." He lowered his voice. "That said, I suppose it would be more appropriate to discuss such delicate matters in private. We must rectify something this serious before I can meet with our dear Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger. I insist."

"Uh… okay..." Harry said, confused. There were splotches of red on his cheeks. "Perhaps… in my office."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, frustration bleeding into her voice, "but what is all this about?"

"Honestly, Granger," he said in a mocking, disdainful voice as he turned on her. "After all your crusading about house elves, I can't believe you've allowed this to go on so long. Frankly, I'm disappointed in you." A self-righteous huff punctuated his words as he practically turned up his nose at her. It was Hermione's turn to scoff, disbelieving, as he stalked from the room. Harry shrugged at Hermione before turning to follow.

"Told you so," Malfoy said smugly. She nearly slapped him.

"You!" She whirled on him. "You did this! I still don't know what this is, but it was you, wasn't it?"

"Well, I can't take all the credit, Granger," he drawled. Leaning forward, he lifted the tea bag from Theo's mug, dunking it several times. "Apparently, Theo has a thing about teapots."

"Teapots," she replied flatly.

"Yes!" His laughter sent tingles up her spine. "He wouldn't shut up about how terrible it was that St. Mungo's wouldn't fix tea properly, and I couldn't resist. Sorry," he said, flashing her a dazzling smile. It made him look younger, carefree.

Hermione would never have picked "playful" as a word to describe Draco, but there was no other way to describe him at that moment, and it wasn't nearly as startling as she expected. Curious, she thought to herself. I wonder what else he's hiding.

The smile slid from his face, and she realised she was staring at him. "Alright, Granger?" he asked, a bit concerned.

"Yes, fine… Just thinking is all." Clearing her throat, she turned to her wall of notes, combing her hair with her fingers to cover the side of her face and the traitorous blush that stole its way across her cheeks. "Since we don't know when Theo will return, should we continue working on the proposal?"

Draco found himself taking more notice of Granger's little mannerisms over the rest of the week. The way she pursed her lips when thinking, and picked at her nails when she was anxious, usually when they encountered a logistical detail they struggled to overcome, such as their ability to deal with the high volume of cases. It was all very distracting.

He was always careful to maintain an imaginary barrier between them, content to observe her from behind the relative safety of the table. Unfortunately, her words from a few weeks ago continued to haunt him: Regardless, I'd like to see it. Even though he knew it was an unattainable fantasy (or perhaps because of it), he couldn't help from imagining in his weakest moments, late at night, what it might be like: Hermione removing his shirt to trace her fingers along the ink there while he licked his way up the column of her throat, tasting her skin; the sounds she'd make; how her skin would feel as he trailed his hand down her body; the way her eyes would glaze in pleasure as she clung to him.

He'd thought Occlumency might help, so he tried shutting the fantasies away in a box in a deep corner of his brain. But when he'd seen her the next day and his name dripped from her lips, the box burst open — the fantasy came rushing back, knocking the breath from him. The vision lasted only a moment, but it was enough: Hermione gasping his name as held her pinned to the wall of this conference room. Thank Merlin he'd been sitting down at the time. He hadn't tried Occlumency again. It was clearly too risky.

If he'd had any chance at all, he'd ruined it at the bar weeks ago. He tried to see it as a game: how many times he could make her roll her eyes in one day, how many times he could make her smile. He wanted to see how far he could push her before she became flustered and walked off in a huff — something that was becoming a much less frequent occurrence. It was a game he couldn't win, but he couldn't stop playing.