Not to her surprise, the lunch itself was wonderful. Malfoy always did have exquisite taste in food. She found out that Malfoy liked his steaks almost raw, grilled very slightly on the surface to reduce the bloodiness and redness and to add a whiff of smoke.

"Malfoy would be sophisticated even with his animalistic tendencies," she thought with a grin to herself. Malfoy looked at her questioningly, handling his knife and fork in an impeccable manner. The glass of valuable red wine next to him completed the image. She laughed out loud.

Malfoy was looking at her strangely.

"Are you quite all right, Granger?" he asked dryly, his eyes amused. The wine loosened him up, reducing the slight awkward air between them.

Clearing her throat to appear like she hadn't laughed at all, she readjusted her napkin on her lap and tried to look dignified.

"The food is lovely, Mr. Malfoy," she replied, trying to stifle the laughter that threatened to burst out of her chest. She probably looked bloated instead. More like a pufferfish, perhaps. "You mentioned something about having more matters to discuss," she continued, trying to organize her features into a more professional expression while attempting to cut her asparagus in half. It was being stubborn. "Could you elaborate?"

"Why yes, Miss Granger," he replied, mimicking her tone. She could hear the smirk in his voice. She had to admit that his attempt to look serious was much more successful than hers. Every time she glanced up at him, an image of a silver wolf (his wolf would definitely be silver; just look at his hair) with an expensive knife and fork set in his paws overlapped. It wasn't funny, but still…

"Witch Weekly demanded a portion of the Malfoy Potions stock in the muggle world. They apparently want to extend their influence."

Hermione nodded, chewing thoughtfully on the finally cut asparagus. It was good. "Is there a particular reason why you haven't reported this to the Magical Law Enforcement squad or drawn up a claim for negotiation? I hold you extremely capable of handling your legal matters by yourself."

Malfoy looked oddly pleased. "You are observant, I give you that, Granger," he continued. "I usually would have tried to negotiate by either giving them money or filing a claim. But Witch Weekly was adamant about refusing monetary compensation. They only wanted stocks to become an influential shareholder. Also, you have experienced Magical Law Enforcement yourself, Granger. They are quite prejudiced. I can't risk my condition being leaked to the whole ministry."

Hermione took a sip of her sparkling water. The restaurant was fancy, serving sparkling water with lemon instead of still water. She enjoyed it immensely.

What Malfoy said was completely understandable. It was one of the main reasons why she decided to quit her job at Magical Law Enforcement. The war did nothing to reduce the amount of prejudice towards werewolves. In some way, it enhanced the public hatred of them, mainly because of Fenir Greyback and his pack. The stories told after the war about him brutally attacking children and women alike drove the people into shared hatred of the species.

She also knew that there were snitches within the department that would do anything to cause a scandal. The ministry wanted another Voldemort figure that they could steer the public hatred and fear on. Often these figures came from the Magical Law Enforcement itself, such as past Death Eaters. A little combined feeling of the two emotions among the public helped keep them together. It helped the ministry do things their own way, successfully driving their attention away from what really happened at the Ministry. She was aware that most muggle governments used this method as well. Keep their attention elsewhere.

Hermione had seen their methods the moment she stepped into office. She tried to change it. But she was a muggleborn and a witch. She would never admit it to anybody, but she knew that even her status of being a war heroine or the smartest witch of her age would not help her against the old men of the Wizengamot or the high officials. It had been her crash against reality. No matter how accepting the ministry was of muggleborns, there was a glass wall she could not penetrate. Her younger self would not have accepted it. The younger Hermione might have wanted to become Minister and change what she thought was wrong. She would have been a bulldozer. But after that incident in the ministry, she could not make herself face it.

Hermione shook her head to clear her thoughts. She didn't want to think of that incident, especially now, when she was seated across Malfoy and was having what was probably one of the best steaks in muggle London.

"I can see that you have really thought this through, Malfoy," She replied, reaching for the bread in the breadbasket. It was toasted just right. Malfoy pushed the basket over to her, handing her a butter knife. Their fingers touched briefly.

"Yes Granger," he replied, his face turning tense again. "This is crucial for my business and my reputation as well."

Hermione nodded. "I think that finding out whether there is a specific figure behind this is the most important, Malfoy. Are there any other people who are aware of your(was there a way to address this more subtly?)condition?" She asked, gesturing vaguely to his neck with the buttered slice of bread she was holding.

Malfoy let out a low chuckle. He seemed amused. "You can talk about it, Granger, I won't be offended," he replied, handing her another napkin. She took it from him absentmindedly, dabbing at the butter on her fingers.

"There are only a limited number of people who know my lycanthropy. My parents knew, of course, but they are now dead. I suppose some of the past Death Eaters knew, but I do not think that they are alive, or sane enough, to spread that I am one."

Taking a sip of her water, Hermione placed her knife and fork on her plate carefully. The steak had been excellent. "How about your friends?" she asked, wondering if Malfoy still spent time with Parkinson and Zabini like he did back in Hogwarts. She had heard that Goyle had been accused and sent to Azkaban, but she did not know much about the others.

"Good question. My assistant knows, as she has to cover up my monthly disappearances and plan my schedule so that I wouldn't have any significant events that collide with my transformation. Some of my close friends, such as Blaise and Theodore also know."

He took a drink of his water and wiped his mouth with his napkin. His grey eyes stared off into space, thoughtful.

"Those are the only ones that I can think of at the moment. Dessert?"

Hermione was taken aback.

"I'm sorry?"

Malfoy gestured to her now-empty plate. "You seemed to have enjoyed your steak. Do you have a preference for dessert? I strongly recommend the chocolate gateau here," he replied, calling the waiter over to their table.

Hermione stared at him. He looked less cold, probably because of the wine and excellent food. If she hadn't been intentionally observant, she knew that she would have missed the subtle actions that truly showed his lycanthropy underneath. Brief, small twitches of his eye at loud noises due to his more sensitive hearing. Constant sniffing of the air around him, although it was done in such an unnoticeable manner that she had not picked up on it until well into their meal. On another person it might have been a nervous habit. But she knew Malfoy was never nervous. Or rather, he never showed his nervousness to others. He definitely was skilled at concealing his werewolf tendencies. A normal person would never dream that he was anything else but a well-mannered gentleman.

The waiter had arrived with their dessert. It looked magnificent. Malfoy gestured for her to try it first.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" She blurted out.

Malfoy looked at her, amused. "I'm being polite, Granger, not being nice. Granted, being with Weasley all those years together would have lowered your standards of what you call nice. I just have proper manners."

Hermione snorted, ignoring his jab at Ron. She took a bite of her dessert instead. It felt like heaven, with the smooth, warm chocolate melting perfectly with cloudy froths of whipped cream and cold vanilla ice cream which kept it from being overly sweet. She let out a little sigh.

Malfoy was right, in a way. Although Ron was still one of her closest friends, he possessed the table manners of a much lesser being. She shuddered, recalling how he used to talk with his mouth full, splattering her plate with bits of his food. She had learned to keep her plate away from him after that. At least Malfoy still possessed impeccable table manners even after half transforming into an animal himself, although it was the first time those impeccable manners were directed towards her. It confused her. It prevented her from seeing what was happening clearly.

Dessert finished, Hermione stood up to put her coat on. "It has been a pleasure, Mr. Malfoy," she said, trying to get back to her flat as soon as possible. She needed time to think it all out. Today had been full of surprises she hadn't expected. Malfoy being overly polite didn't help clear her thoughts. The faster she got out of this scene, the better. She needed time to figure out what was really going on.

"The pleasure was all mine, Granger," Malfoy replied, touching her arm, helping her into her coat. She jerked back in surprise. It seemed like he didn't notice that he had touched her on that particular arm. "I'll owl you soon about the reply."

Letting out a shaky breath, Hermione nodded. He probably didn't know. She tried to regain composure and act as if his touch, intentional or not, hadn't affected her. She straightened her coat. She took a step away from him.

"Alright. Have a nice day, Mr. Malfoy," she stiffly said, turning away and trying to walk the fastest she could without seeming rude. He had touched her on her scarred arm, the one his aunt had carved into her.

She took deep breaths. "He probably didn't do it on purpose," she tried to reason, walking faster towards the apparition point. It's ridiculous, she told herself firmly. That was years ago. He could have done nothing to help her.

No matter how many healers or muggle therapists she visited, she still couldn't seem to shake off the night in the manor with Bellatrix over her. She had felt so numb after that, as if all the warmth and life that was in her body had seeped out through the word Bellatrix had carved into her arm. Even on brilliantly sunny days she felt cold like dementors were constantly hovering over her. She knew that Malfoy couldn't have done anything while his aunt had done that to her. But a part of her, the part that mourned over the warmth that had been inside her forever which she could never seem to get back again, blamed him for doing nothing but just standing there. She had hated him then. Her logical brain knew there was nothing he could have done. Yet she knew that a fragment of her still loathed him.

Feeling his touch on that arm brought back the memories and the coldness she never could seem to shake off. She had been doing so well, even managing to almost enjoy her lunch without dissolving into hysterical tears. It was that simple touch on her arm. She could see too much of Bellatrix in him. She wanted to run away from him, away from all the painful moments she could never bear to properly think again- the screaming, the nightmares, the rough carpet under her cheek.

Hermione forcefully stopped her train of thoughts. She needed to stay logical. She couldn't afford to let something as insignificant as her past emotions interfere with what was probably the biggest case she has ever handled. She needed to keep her emotions in check. It was her only way of coping. If she let them out completely, if she truly admitted what she was feeling, she knew she would never be able to snap back to her controlled self that she practiced so hard to achieve. It was her way of survival. There was no time to feel.

The case. She needed to think about the case.

Malfoy's case was intriguing. It was more so because the way he acted around her changed as well. There were no sneers, constant mudblood insults, or nasty comments about her hair. Granted, they had been kids back then. She wondered whether this was all a show to make her trust him, knowing that he certainly had the capability. Maybe he was purposefully charming to her during the duration of filing his claim, then go back to his usual unpleasant self again. Whatever the reason, it confused her. It made her feel oddly vulnerable, as if hating Malfoy had been one of the reasons why she stayed strong all these years while others crumbled against her. She had felt brave back then, when her numbness towards Malfoy and the other Death Eaters had helped her testify against them. She could look at them in the eye without flinching and remembering what they did to her friends. Now she just felt drained and weak. It made her feel unprofessional.

Hermione rubbed her aching temples. Meeting Draco Malfoy dislodged the barriers she so carefully placed around her mind. She hoped to Merlin that this would be over soon.