Hermione woke to the sun shining on her face and smiled. She thought about sitting on the porch with her morning coffee and Crookshanks on her lap. She'll read a couple chapters on her most recent book while she has eggs and bacon. She rolled over and stretched before she got ready to get up but her hand had hit something quite hard.

"Oww!"

She turned around and saw copper hair peaking from under the blanket.

I forgot he was here.

She pulled the blanket down, Ron's hand covered his freckled nose. "I am so sorry Ron, is your nose okay?"

The sleepy redhead rubbed his nose and grumbled, "what a great way to be woken by your girlfriend."

"I really am sorry Ron, here let me have a look." She leaned over and moved his hand out of the way. After a diagnostic charm was cast and a minute of studying it, the brunette concluded: "Well, I didn't break it, its just a little sore."

She summoned an ice pack and placed it on the area. "Just keep it on there and you should feel better soon. I'm sorry, Ron."

Ron offered her a cheeky smile, "It's alright Mione, you didn't mean to. But I think I'll feel a lot better if u made me breakfast? I'm starving, my stomach is practically eating itself."

Hermione nodded, she still felt bad about smacking him so she'd make it up to him with breakfast.

Still in her kitten pyjamas, she got to work in the kitchen. She preferred to make her food the Muggle way so it took a while longer. She put a pot of coffee on to brew and crisped up some bacon. She also made some buttered toast as well as scrambled eggs with cheddar cheese sprinkled on top.

Once she was done, she placed the two plates on the kitchen island and called for Ron.

She was making her coffee the way she liked it when Ron plopped himself on a chair in the dining room. She grabbed her plate and mug, and sat across from him.

The redhead gaped at her, "Where's mine?"

Mione raised an eyebrow, "your plate is right there on the counter, and coffee is on the pot. I set out your favourite mug for you."

She had set out a Quidditch mug for him, it had a miniature player zooming around with a quaffle. She found it at a gift shop a year back and kept it at her house for Ron. She thought it was cute.

Ron pouted and watched as she cut her bacon, "Mum would always set the table with everything on it."

Well, Ronald. I don't know if it's escaped your attention but I'm not a motherly redhead who bore multiple Weasley children. I am also not your housewife. You have a wand and hands for Merlin's sake, use them!

Hermione took a deep breath, letting the annoyance dissipate before she spoke. "Well, you're a grown man Ron. I didn't think I had to bring it to you. Besides, I only have two hands and I thought you could use yours."

Ron waved his wand and his breakfast and his mug floated towards him, "yeah but I'm just used to it."

He looked down at the empty mug and sighed.

Hermione quirked an eyebrow to which Ron grumbled, "if I want coffee then I have to go get milk and sugar and coffee and that's just a lot to do I'm just too hungry."

"Accio orange juice!" The jug of orange juice zoomed past Hermione's head and into Ron's hand. He proceeded to pour the juice into his coffee mug.

They are their breakfast silently. It wasn't too long of an awkward silence though, as Ron inhaled his food in two minutes then headed to use the bathroom.

Once Hermione had finished, she picked out her work clothes for the day. When she heard the bathroom door open, she called for him "Oh, Ron. I'll be headed off to work fairly soon so you should probably get ready to go too."

Ron walked in, a towel around his waist. "Already? You have loads of time. It's only 7 o'clock"

"Well I was just about to hit the shower and you know I like to be early."

"I can shower again, I'll join you." The redhead wiggled his eyebrows at Hermione at an attempt at seduction. Suffice to say, it did not work and it only made Hermione squirm internally.

"Maybe not today, Ron. I don't want to be rushed in the morning it sets my mood for the day." She rustled through her wardrobe pretending to look for something.

Ron grabbed her waist from behind and said, "Oh, come on it can be a quickie. Besides you'll be in a great mood after what I do to you."

Doubtful.

Based on past experiences, sex with Ron was almost always a quickie. Hermione didn't even know what a happy ending with a partner felt like. It was hard to get there when they're just pushing beginning.

"Please, Ron, just don't push it today ok?"

The redhead withdrew his hands and grumbled away, "fine, I'll just get dressed."

Hermione sighed, she felt like a terrible girlfriend. It's been over a month since the last time they had sex. She just hasn't been in the mood for it, it's like she's dried up. And the more Ron pushed and asked, the less she wanted to.

She went in the bathroom and set to putting on a playlist for her shower. The first song started playing, it was a Muggle artist she had discovered recently.

My double vision

Is only amplifying everything he isn't

'Til I feel less attached and bored to death, but listen

It's no one's fault, it's just my terrible conditi-

The slam of a door startled her and a loud crack followed. There goes Ron, and he was unhappy with her, again. She hopped in the shower and tried not to think about it.

Draco Malfoy is in front of a mirror, again. He is spending an incredible amount of time deciding what to wear, again.

Draco spent a great deal of time deciding what to wear today. He needs to establish himself as someone who commands respect without demanding it. He needed to be polished and refined without being snobby. He needed to emanate wealth without rubbing it in people's faces. So he decided to stray from his usual all black get up. A pristinely tailored blue suit seemed to work for his purposes, today. Psychologically, blue symbolized wealth, intelligence, and confidence.

"One would ask, who puts this much thought on their outfit? Who analyzes and breaks down what the majority of minds would think when they see him? Why, stylists of politicians and royalty, and Draco Malloy. I suppose he is a bit of both, really." He smirks at the mirror.

Narcissa rolls her eyes as she leans on the doorframe. She knocks on the door, feigning innocence. "Draco, dear, are you speaking with someone?"

The faintest shade of rose creeps up his cheeks. The blonde clears his throat and adjusts his already perfect collar, "No, mother, just be the portraits mumbling. Did you need something?"

The matriarch tries to keep a straight face and manages quite well. Years of Black and Malfoy upbringing of course have become useful for this very moment. "Oh, I am sure it was. It's probably your mirror talking. And yes, come to the morning room, my dear. Breakfast is ready."

As his mother's footsteps diminished, Draco ignored the embarrassment and picked apart the reflection in the mirror once more. Devilishly handsome.

Once he was satisfied, he followed his mother down. The air smelled of apples and the sun was shining down on him gently. He sat down across from his mother and sipped his morning tea, a Vintage Narcissus brew. He of course would only drink one of the most expensive teas in the world. His taste buds deserve the best. To accompany this was a plate of soufflé pancakes with brown sugar caramel drizzle, fresh whipped cream, dusted with confectioner's sugar, and topped with fresh fruit.

"What's today's plan, my dragon?"

"Fear and love, mother."

Ah, yes, and the torment of a certain Gryffindor.

Narcissa merely raised an eyebrow. Draco's eyes were alight with plans and mischief, or mischief and plans. Either way, ambition skirted in the illuminated silver of his stormy eyes. One could almost see the gears turning so his thought process was best left in the slytherin's head.

Hermione had spent too much time in the shower, deep in her thoughts. She hardly had time to get ready, so her hair was thrown in a low semi-messy bun. It could still pass as professional, with some curly strands spilling out, and her face was framed slightly. She had just thrown on a white long sleeve button up. It was slightly too big but she tucked it in to her favourite trousers. She now looked, effortless. Or so, the muggle magazines liked to call it. To her, she just looked disheveled. She was rushing to her office, a slight flush on her cheeks for, being worked up, she didn't even notice the tall figure standing at the end of the hallway. She quickly plopped herself on her chair and asked for the office intern to kindly bring her some coffee.

Only half a minute later, she felt a figure hovering over the doorway. She was already staring at her work and did not even bother looking up as she reached for the coffee.

"Thank you, that was very fast, I appreciate it."

A cold, rather large hand met her palm. A whiff of cinnamon, leather, and mint followed.

Oh, bollocks.

The brunette frowned and looked up, "Malfoy, hello."

Still, grasping her hand, he smirked, "Well, good morning, sour puss. Who pissed on your pillow in your sleep?"

Hermione mustered up a smile and gripped his hand tighter, with no reaction from him- apparently he felt no pain. "Well, I was hoping for something hot, steamy, and dark to be in my hand this morning . Instead, I get cold, slimy and pale. You see why I'm disappointed?"

Draco made a show of looking around, "I wasn't aware that a weasel was currently with us. Ronald, pop your head out and say hi, will you?"

"No weasels around here, just a snake, or maybe a ferret." The gryffindor smiled, recalling the good old Hogwarts days.

His grey eyes glistened silver again, "Ooh, nasty little nip there," Draco leaned forward and pulled Hermione's hand, forcing her to look straight at him, "and when will I see that gryffindor bite?" His eyes were glinting with mischief. He probably thinks he's so clever.

Oh he's so full of it. What in the fuck is wrong with him.

Hermione jerked her hand away, she instinctively grabbed a stack of paper and pretended to rapidly go through them. She felt warm, her face was surely the colour of the sunset. "Malfoy, it's too early for this. Just let me do my work, please."

Draco put his hands in his pocket, turned around and chuckled, "as you wish, my lady. And oh, look, your hot, steamy, and dark is here."

The intern looked very uncomfortable and was squirming in his shoes. She doesn't know how much of that he saw and hoped he didn't misinterpret it and blab. "Uhm- Miss Granger, your coffee."

She was about to reach for it again when she pulled her hand back and just asked the intern to place it on her desk.

Great, what a great start.

Ah, what a wonderful start.

Draco mentally checked off, "Piss off Granger, but not to the point that she quits" off of his daily to do list. Since he had just gotten a rewarding start, he thought it was time to begin business. He began tackling his agenda for the day.

First, his public image cannot affect the business. There has been mixed comments and reports about how the wizarding world was taking his reintegration back to society. Some people it was the right step in putting the war behind, while some people believe he should remain locked up with his father. Some wanted more, if not all of the Malfoy wealth absorbed into the government and distributed to the victims of war.

Tsk. As if he hasn't given what was due and more. People forget he was a victim too.

I guess not everyone saw it that way. Potter and Granger's testimonies were very controversial, then and looks to have remained so.

They don't see me as redeemable. Maybe so, they might be right and I should be locked up. But it wasn't my choice then, and it's not their choice now. I'll live my life in my own terms now, and only my own.

So, he set to planning with those under him. They needed to rehabilitate his image, before letting him loose head on. He can't be seen publicly all the time, so he will remain out of marketing attempts and will integrate himself back in the company in the shadows, where meetings will remain discreet. He liked the mysterious vibe it would give him and he was not opposed, he didn't want Granger and Potter's hard work to go down the drain anyway. Kidding. He didn't care that it was their work, he cared about his company. He pictured Granger staying late with her nose buried in paperwork, falling asleep with ink on her cheek. Hair sprawled all over the desk and a coffee stain on her white shirt. The blonde rolled his eyes and thought, ok, well it would be a waste of coffee, and resources that I have paid for if I let it go down the drain. She looks like a mess thanks to my company.

She did look like a mess this morning. What was up with her hair, it was just trickling everywhere, it almost touched his hand when he leaned forward this morning. God, she smelled like caramel and apples, like a pie. She needs better perfume, hers would be more appropriate for a first year Hogwarts student who's never seen the inside of a proper store. It did not smell like his garden and breakfast this morning at all. And her blouse, yeah, it was showing the slightest bit of collarbone and it flowed off her shoulders like when you throw a pebble in a sunlit lake, and the water ripples. That's what it looked like. Not very professional at all! No, she didn't look like a renaissance painting, she looked like a homeless Muggle. Someone needs to speak to her about showing up to work so disheveled.

Draco thought about how much work he put into his attire this morning and caught his blurred reflection on the window. He supposed not everyone could achieve his level of perfection. Pity Granger couldn't do the same. Maybe she needs some lessons on professional appearance. Yes, yes that would boost the company image. We'll get her someone. But who better than I?

Draco supposed he could show her some tricks, it's a bit like charity work but she's been helpful. It's the least he could do, really. Malfoys are known for being in touch with their philanthropic side. This could be his first venture into the betterment of wizarding society, fixing Hermione Granger's work appearance.

Making fun of her hair, and her Muggle clothes, and getting away with it as constructive criticism?

Yes, it's genius.

He glanced at the clock, it was five in the evening. He'll have to wait until tomorrow to pitch the idea to her. She'll have left by now. Oh, he could just picture the look on her face.