More than a few people stared at Hermione and her companion as they apparated to Diagon Alley together. The whispers that followed them reminded her of the first years after the war. Of the weeks after she and Oliver had become an item. Of the gossip after they had broken up. But while those stares had been filled with excitement, jealousy, and pity, these bewildered looks had a different kind of feeling.
Disgust.
Disdain.
She was so used to seeing Malfoy at the Ministry, in a position of power at the Wizengamot, that she'd nearly forgotten how the general public perceived him. To them, he wasn't Lord Malfoy. He was nothing more than a death eater.
"Don't mind them," Malfoy said as he sneered at the onlookers, daring them to say something. Some looked ashamed and hurried off, while others scowled right back. "Where we're going is none of their business."
"But where are we going? I figured you made up some sort of excuse to taunt McLaggen, seeing as you overheard our conversation."
"I came to your office to ask you out to dinner, just like I said." Malfoy grabbed Hermione's arm, leading her away from the restaurants located in Diagon Alley, and instead steering her towards the Leaky Cauldron. "After what happened on Friday, I figured it would only take you a while to spit in the Wizengamot's face. That you would show them what you were made of. You've never bowed down to bigotry or went down without a fight. I should know. I was the one your determination was aimed at during our Hogwarts years. You having a spat with McLaggen was just the confirmation I needed. At least I don't need to waste my time tonight on convincing you to run for office."
Hermione frowned. "You really anticipated me wanting to run for Minister?"
"I hoped you would. And that you would listen to my business proposal."
"So, there is something in it for you? Slytherin scheming after all?"
Malfoy smirked. "You're a smart witch, Granger. You'll figure out what it is that I want."
A shiver ran down her spine at the ominous warning that seemed to lace his words. Perhaps, going with him tonight had not been the smartest idea.
They entered the inn through the back door and Hannah nearly did a doubletake when she saw Hermione enter with Malfoy.
"Hermione! Is everything alright?" she asked worriedly, looking between her and the Slytherin.
"Yes, me and Malfoy just need to discuss some work," the brunette stopped to answer, not noticing Malfoy had already headed for the door.
"Stop dawdling, Granger," he told her. "I might know the owner, but even I am not allowed so much leeway that I'm allowed to be tardy."
If Hermione didn't know any better, she'd think he was… Giddy? No. That couldn't be right. He was probably just impatient, not used to having to wait for people to do his bidding. Honestly, she was surprised he wasn't outright ordering her to come with him.
Saying her goodbyes to her Hufflepuff friend, Hermione suddenly realised that they were about to head into muggle London. Someone pinch her. Was Draco Malfoy about to lead her into muggle London?
As she stepped outside onto Charing Cross Road, she could feel his magic settle on her again, just like it had done last Friday in the elevator. "What-"
"You were still wearing your wizarding robes," he explained as he offered her his elbow again. "Where we're going those might look severely out of place. And I suppose we don't want to break the statute tonight?"
The witch rolled her eyes at his unnecessary remark and took his arm. She studied herself as he led them down the road. He'd indeed transfigured her dark green ministry robes to look more like muggle high-end fashion. What in the bloody Merlin did Draco Malfoy know about muggle fashion?
As if hearing her thoughts, he broke the silence between them. "You might not have suspected, but my mother loved to go out in the muggle world. She was very much into muggle fashion. Her, Lady Greengrass and Lady Parkinson went to Italy, France, and New York more often than I can count." His eyes softened at the mention of Narcissa.
Hermione had dealt with Draco Malfoy for seventeen years. But she didn't know how to deal with this side of him. She'd never seen him this vulnerable, talking about his late mother. If anything, she'd been unable to gauge his opinions or his thoughts since the end of the war. Gone was the boy she'd studied carefully during their sixth year, the anxiousness dripping off of him. All Malfoy showed nowadays at the ministry was ice-cold indifference or anger.
"I'm sorry for your loss," she finally whispered, never having actually said the words. Not even that day he'd appeared in his seat at the Wizengamot to support her bill, even though his mother had recently died.
"Thank you."
Those were the most sincere words she'd ever heard out of his mouth.
"How is your father? Is he still living with you at the Manor?"
He raised an eyebrow at her. "Merlin, I didn't think you'd spend the evening making small talk with me about my late mother and my father."
"If you'd rather drop the subject then-"
Malfoy sighed, looking older than he was. "No, it's… I'm just not used to anyone asking about his well-being. He's as well as he can be, bound to the Manor by magic. He's taken up gardening from what the house elves tell me."
Hermione couldn't help but giggle, imagining the former death eater that had scared her so much when she was younger, standing in his garden, knee-deep in the mud. She wished she could see it.
"That amuses you, Granger? Wait until you see his gardening skills for yourself. You won't be laughing then."
The brunette immediately tensed up and Malfoy seemed to notice the change in her posture but did not ask why she suddenly felt uncomfortable. Just the thought of ever setting foot again in Malfoy Manor made her skin crawl.
"We're here," he announced as they stood in front of a restaurant called The Ivy.
Hermione immediately let go of his arm and followed him inside, offering the waiter who'd greeted them her coat. She had to admit, she was impressed by Malfoy's choice of restaurant. Once they were seated, and he'd ordered a bottle of white wine as well as recommended some of his favourite dishes to her, he turned serious again.
"I've already made a list of events and galas you will need to appear at if you want to receive donations for your campaign and the causes you support," he stated as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small brown leather notebook. "As you know, you will mostly rely on the donations of the wealthier members of Wizarding society. Businesspeople and investors like me, as well as some of the members of the Wizengamot. But I'm sure we can also find some international support considering you will be the first muggle-born minister for magic. You have an extra advantage there, as you will be the liaison to the muggle Prime Minister and- Are you even listening to what I'm saying, Granger?"
Hermione blinked at him. "You've really thought about this, haven't you?"
"I did." He raised an eyebrow at her, daring her to voice her suspicions.
"You still haven't told me what's in it for you."
Malfoy leaned back into his seat and pinched his nose, seemingly frustrated. At her, or her mistrusting him, she wasn't sure.
"You've always been a goody-two-shoes, Granger. No, don't deny it," he said right after she'd opened her mouth to protest. "You have. You've always believed in justice and fought for the rights of others ever since we were at Hogwarts. Supporting you, the most intelligent part of the golden trio would be beneficial for me. For the House of Malfoy. I haven't been throwing fundraisers and showing my face at war galas because I like being sneered at, or because I like being reminded of what I did during the war. I don't want the Malfoy name to be tainted by my actions or those of my ancestors, not if I ever plan on having a family of my own. Working with you could help me clear my name and make sure that those I love won't be shunned by the rest of society."
"So, you're just using me?" she wondered. "All this Slytherin scheming you've been doing, even last week after the hearing for the position of Head of the D.M.L.E., it was just to get me in a position of power so I could… What exactly? Thank you? Clear your name by spreading good words about you?"
"If you want to call it using you, then those are your words, not mine, Granger," Malfoy said, his voice seemingly lined with disgust. "I believe that if we would work together and get this campaign going, you could actually become Minister for Magic. You would do a magnificent job, better than that idiot McLaggen or even Gareth Greengrass would ever do." He sipped his wine angrily, looking at anything but her.
His honesty surprised her, however. She could sense that he wasn't just saying this to make her agree with him, or so he could stroke her ego. Somehow, he actually believed that she would be a good leader of the British magical world.
"And in the process of me showing everyone what I'm made of, you would restore your family name?"
Malfoy nodded, glancing at her again, waiting for her response.
Hermione sipped her wine slowly, weighing the pros and cons. "But wouldn't working with you damage my reputation? You could see how people reacted to you and me being sighted together in Diagon Alley."
"I would stay in the shadows," he coldly answered. "Why do you think I took you to muggle London in the first place? Hermione Granger doesn't need the world to think she's suddenly in an alliance with a death eater. All I ask for is that once you do become Minister, you give credit where credit is due. So my lineage will not face the bigotry you yourself once faced, just because they happen to be born to my line."
"Former death eater," Hermione corrected him as she put her glass down on the table, catching Malfoy off guard with her choice of words. "Even if you want to redeem your family's name, I don't think you would work together with me if you still believed in all that bullcrap you used to call me at Hogwarts."
When the blond wizard's eyes widened for a split second, and his expression immediately turned cold again after, she finally understood why he always seemed so distant after the war. Only occlumency could change an emotion that fast. She'd used it more often than not in the past years herself. Had that been how Draco Malfoy had seemed so indifferent for years about people calling him names? Merlin. The control that man must have had on his own emotions.
Their food arrived, and both of them ate in silence, seemingly lost in thought.
"If I accept your proposal, what would I need to do?" she inquired once they'd ordered another bottle of wine. "Except for showing up at all the events and fundraisers you seemingly have planned for me?"
"Well, we would need to change your image. As loathe as I'm to admit it, McLaggen did have a point. After your break up with their star player Oliver Wood, the wizarding world assumes that Hermione Granger thinks herself too good for anyone. Too good for the wizarding world even."
Malfoy watched her carefully as she clenched her fist on the table before letting out a deep sigh, debating with herself if she should just tell him the truth.
"If anything, we both know, especially after the fiasco at the Wizengamot last Friday, that the British wizarding world thinks I'm not good enough. A muggle-born like me will never be up to their standards. Even Oliver thought so. Else he wouldn't have found himself occupied with another witch in our bed."
Rage. That was the only emotion that flickered through his occlumency shields right there and then. "He cheated on you?" Malfoy's jaw clenched as if he was holding himself back from saying anything more on the subject. Yet, he didn't seem as surprised at the revelation as she thought he would be.
Hermione tilted her head, unsure why it mattered so much to him. Perhaps the Slytherin Prince had some bad experiences with cheating. His Hogwarts girlfriend, Pansy Parkinson, definitely got around back in the day. And she remembered he had a fling with Astoria Greengrass a few years back. "Does that surprise you? That I wouldn't have been good enough for a man such as Oliver?"
"What surprises me is that you haven't used your Slytherin cunning to end that man's career," Malfoy stated. "Or at least to curse him so he can never please a woman again in his life."
Laughter bubbled out of her. "My Slytherin cunning? You must've drunk too much wine, Malfoy. I was a Gryffindor after all."
He snorted at that and leaned closer to her as if he was about to share a secret. "A snake in a lion's skin is what you are. I'd always assumed you were, but once I learnt what you did to Skeeter, I was certain. Overly ambitious. Clever. Determined. Resourceful. "You seem to remember the Slytherin traits differently than me," Hermione smirked back at him. "Back in my day, it was just a place where all the bigoted children went."
"That's because you never talked to those that weren't," he quipped back, as he nodded his head in thanks at the waiter who'd come to fill their wine. He swirled the alcohol in his glass, debating with himself on what to say next. "If you want, I could do something about Wood. Make the electorate change their opinion on you."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I don't need a pity party."
"I never said you were pitiful."
"No, but people might think I am. Might even blame me for his cheating ways. Besides, you heard McLaggen. I'm not getting any younger. People won't vote for a crazy cat lady, or well, kneazle lady in my case."
"You're a witch. You will probably live to be at least one hundred thirty years old. No one would bat an eye if you had children when you were fifty if you ever desired to have them. We don't age the same as muggles do. It's not because your friends have started bringing about offspring, that you need to as well. You need to live your own life, Granger. Not the one that others expect you to live."
All she could do was stare at him. "Since when have you become so wise?"
"You're talking to Lord Malfoy, Granger. I've always been wise," he smirked.
Malfoy surprised her again when he offered to walk her to her flat through the busy streets of London, seemingly unperturbed by the muggles surrounding them. Harry would probably tell her that showing your enemies exactly where you lived, was not the best idea. But after tonight, Hermione wondered if Malfoy truly was her enemy. Long gone was the stuck-up bigoted little boy she'd met at Hogwarts.
"Think about what I said," he told her as they reached her doorstep. "And read that bloody notebook I gave you. If you want, I'll also figure out something about Wood. And about your status as a muggle-born."
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Unless you are planning on marrying me off to a pure-blood heir, I'm not sure the more conservative part of the Wizengamot can be swayed to my favour, Malfoy. And I'm quite certain you're not offering yourself for the position of my husband."
"Even if you would make an astounding Lady Granger-Malfoy, I don't think that's where your ambitions lie," he chuckled darkly. "But about you being a muggle-born… I have my ways. Meet me at Gringotts on Saturday morning, nine o'clock."
"You seem quite confident that I will come and do your bidding," she frowned as he cast a notice-me-not charm over himself, ready to apparate away.
"I'm positive that you will end up doing what is right."
With a nearly silent pop, Malfoy apparated away, leaving Hermione standing on her doorstep. It wasn't until she walked inside and greeted Crookshanks, that she realised what he'd said. Lady Granger-Malfoy. Even Oliver had refused for her to hyphenate. Yet somehow, Malfoy had known that that was exactly what she would've wished for herself.