”I’m sorry, Ms. Granger, but you cannot possibly apply for a higher position. You didn’t finish your last year of Hogwarts, and that unfortunately is a block spot on your record. The Minister will simply not allow it. I am so sorry.”
Hermione felt her dreams crashing behind her, but she kept her composure. She nodded a final time before standing up and heading towards the door. Hermione arrived at the apartment she shared with Ron moments later and stopped outside their bedroom door, waiting to knock, when she suddenly heard a very girlish giggle. As soon as she opened the door, two yelps followed, and Lavender quickly covered her exposed body with a blanket.
Hermione literally felt her heart breaking. With tears streaming down her face, she yelled at Ron. Hermione threw a pillow at him and Lavender, who were on the very same bed she and Ron had shared for two years. Grabbing her coat from his closet, and yelling one last swear word, Hermione left, slamming the door behind her.
She didn’t know where she was going; all she knew was that she had to escape. Soon, Hermione found herself at the Three Broomsticks and sat down in the farthest corner of the pub. She wiped the hot tears off her face and watched as a blurry figure approached her table.
“Hermione?” the figure asked, in a voice Hermione hadn’t heard for a very long time.
“Harry...?”
Harry sat down beside her. He didn’t ask what was wrong; somehow, he already knew. Ron had been his best mate, after all, and still was. But his choice in women was something Harry simply could not understand. Just like at Hogwarts, Lavender had enticed him into breaking Hermione’s heart; and, just like at Hogwarts, Harry was there to hold her together.
“It’s going to be okay, Hermione...” Harry whispered.
Hermione emerged from his arms and her red, puffy face broke Harry’s heart. Ever since Ginny had broken up with him, Harry had been looking for a reason to keep on breathing. He saw it now, in his arms. Hermione needed him.
“I won’t leave you, Hermione,” Harry said quietly. “I promise.”
Tears were running down Hermione’s face as she woke up. All the emotions she had tried to bury forever had escaped with that one dream, and she found herself in desperate need of someone to talk to.
“Harry?” she whispered hopefully, turning towards the right side of the bed, but, as usual, it was empty.
Why does he have to go to work so early? Hermione sighed and finally rolled out of bed. Another lonely breakfast followed, and Hermione tried to think of the last time that she and Harry had eaten together in the morning. Sadly, though, it seemed to have been so long ago that Hermione couldn’t even remember it. She showered, then changed into her work clothes in silence, and a single tear ran down her face as her eyes gazed around her empty apartment.
“Ministry of Magic,” Hermione croaked, stepping into the fireplace; the next second, she and the single tear had both disappeared.
Malfoy wasn’t in the office when she arrived, and Hermione was grateful for that. She didn’t feel she was up to being taunted yet again today. All the physical tasks he had so far given her were nothing compared to how hard it was for her to keep her temper around Malfoy. Everything from his sneer to the way he talked set her off. Even just the way he looked at her made Hermione’s blood boil.
I can’t believe I almost fell for one of his tricks, Hermione shouted at herself inwardly as she remembered the last time she and Malfoy had been in the office together.
“Thanks for keeping me entertained,” Hermione said, in a rough imitation of Malfoy’s voice, to no one in particular.
She shuddered as she remembered the feeling of Malfoy’s hands on her and willed herself to frame the incident in her mind as something that had been horrible, disgusting and definitely never to be thought of again.
Where is he? Hermione thought irritably, after half an hour of waiting. She walked over to his desk and suddenly noticed a piece of floating parchment with Granger written across the top in Malfoy’s neat penmanship. She reached for the parchment; it glimmered for a second as she touched it and finally settled in Hermione’s palm.
Granger, the note started; Hermione could almost hear Malfoy’s voice as she read the rest. I have a meeting this morning. I might come in later this afternoon to make sure you haven’t burned down my office yet. As you may or may not have already noticed, on my desk is a pile of papers. Those are requests for grants which I am supposed to approve or decline. Read them and decide whether the wizard in question should be granted special security grants. Basically, all you have to do, is write ‘Approved’ or ’Rejected’ at the bottom of each of the parchments you have read. I believe even someone with as little background as you should be able to do this job. Malfoy.
Breathing deeply, Hermione tried to restrain the anger that was bound to erupt any second. Instead, she glanced at the huge pile of papers on Malfoy’s desk, and a small smile escaped her lips. A whole morning without Malfoy and no laborious tasks? There was nothing to complain about.
Reaching for the first paper of the top of the pile, Hermione read through it quickly. It was a grant from a father asking for money to make a protective potion for his daughter, who had been molested on her way home from Hogwarts. The grant request continued by asking for help for the poor girl, who was now so scared of going outdoors that she had locked herself in her room and hadn’t come outside in three weeks. A list of ingredients for a potion Hermione had never heard of followed; the father stated that, if the Ministry would give him the amount he had estimated at the bottom of the parchment, he would be able to make the potion for his daughter for her to regain her courage and forget the whole incident. Also, the father wanted to buy a spell book containing details on the kinds of magic that were set aside just for this case. He wanted to get even with the men that had done this to his daughter, and Hermione couldn’t blame him.
A photograph fell out of the request envelope, and Hermione found herself looking at the face of a pretty girl. She smiled shyly at Hermione through the photograph, and Hermione felt her heart going out for the girl. Though the amount her father had put down was quite large, Hermione wrote Approved at the bottom of the parchment without hesitation. For her, they deserved it all and more.
This is so amazing, Hermione thought, as she went through more of the grant requests. She felt like she was finally helping someone - she felt like she was finally making a difference.
Hermione enjoyed going through all the grants so much that she was surprised to find it was already noon by the time she was done. It had seemed to take almost no time for her to read all of the papers, and Hermione felt she had done a wonderful job.
The moment of truth came when Malfoy arrived a few minutes later. He looked at Hermione in surprise when she said she was already done.
“With all of them?” Malfoy asked again, and Hermione nodded proudly.
“Each and every one,” she said, smiling as she shoved the pile of parchments towards Malfoy as proof.
Hermione sat down across from his desk as Malfoy went through her work. She watched his expression carefully as it changed from confused, to angry, to amused, and then, finally, to exasperated.
“What is it?” Hermione asked timidly. She could read from Malfoy’s expression that she had done something wrong, but she wasn’t sure what it was.
“Did you realize, Granger, that you said ‘yes’ to every single wizard asking for a security grant?”
Hermione thought over all the papers she had read and realized he was right.
“I guess I did,” she replied in a thoughtful voice. “But with good reason. All of them deserved security.”
“Even this?” Malfoy asked, holding up a piece of paper. Hermione scanned it quickly and found it was the grant request from the father whose daughter had been molested - the grant that had touched her so thoroughly.
“Of course!” Hermione replied at once. “Don’t you think they deserve to be safe? She was sexually molested, Malfoy! The father wants to make sure it doesn’t happen again. All he asked is for us to give him enough money for him to buy the ingredients he needs to make the potion for his daughter in order for her to forget the whole incident. How in the world can you think they're not deserving people?”
The sigh that came out of Malfoy’s mouth infuriated Hermione. “Did you see the amount of galleons he was asking from us, Granger?”
Hermione nodded, not budging. “It was a bit high, I agree. But, as I said, they deserve it.”
Malfoy leaned towards her over his desk, but Hermione wouldn’t allow herself to be intimidated. “And did you go over the list of ingredients he sent?”
Silence answered him, and Malfoy nodded.
“Exactly. You didn’t.”
Pulling the paper towards himself again, Malfoy began, “I don’t recall dragons having hair, Granger, as stated in this obviously false list of ingredients. He asked that we give him five hundred galleons for him to make his potion, and you didn’t even go over the statistics?”
Sitting upright in her chair, Hermione retorted, “I don’t believe someone would make up such a sick story just to get a few galleons out of the Ministry for their own personal welfare, Malfoy. No one is that unkind.”
At that, Malfoy laughed. “You really think this story is true, don’t you?”
Hermione nodded, saying nothing.
Malfoy stood up suddenly and grabbed Hermione by the hand, pulling her beside him.
“Once again, Granger, I love proving you wrong.”
The two Apparated seconds later into a small village. The afternoon had turned into early evening, and Hermione shivered as the cold wind blew against her. Malfoy still had on his traveling cloak - he had not bothered to remove it when he had arrived in his office. He walked ahead of her, and Hermione had no choice but to follow. They walked straight for a few minutes until Malfoy turned left and continued walking.
“The address said to send the money here,” Malfoy said, after stopping in front of a small, worn-down house.
Edges of doubt started creeping into Hermione’s mind, but she ignored them as she stepped onto the doorstop and knocked. Moments later, a dirty, old man appeared, squinting sharply at Hermione.
“What do you want?” he asked in a gruff voice.
Hermione felt Malfoy step up beside her.
“Are you Ben Copper?” she asked, remembering the name written on the letter’s envelope.
The man leaned closer towards Hermione and the foul smell of him made her want to recoil. “And what if I am? What’s it to you?”
Hermione forced a smile. “I came to see your daughter. It’s… er… a school matter.”
The man suddenly burst out laughing. “Daughter? Now that’s funny. There ain't no daughter of mine around here, sweetie.”
Smiling, the old man stepped even closer towards Hermione. “But, if you want to change that, I’m up to the offer. These old bones can still move, you know.”
Malfoy pulled Hermione’s arm towards him.
“Believe me now?” he whispered in her ear.
Hermione nodded, and Malfoy led her away from the house. The man’s laughter faded into the background as they walked back towards the clearing they had appeared in.
Hermione was visibly shaken, and Malfoy found himself feeling sorry for her. He suddenly wished that he could erase the bad thoughts from her mind. Sighing, Malfoy held onto Hermione’s arm once more, and they appeared a second later at the Three Broomsticks.
“Two Butterbeers,” he told the waiter as he led Hermione to a table far away from all the laughing customers.
“I can’t believe it,” she said, after a few moments.
Malfoy sighed. “Not all people are as noble as you and your precious Potter, Granger. Some will do anything for money. The reason I took you there tonight was for you to understand that. You cannot work for Wizard Security if you approve every single grant you receive just because of the stories they feed you. Half of them are always untrue.”
Hermione nodded silently, sipping on the Butterbeer that had just arrived. “But the picture… the one of the girl…”
Malfoy laughed. “The one in the letter? You should really keep up with the world more, Granger. The girl in the picture was a child model; you can see her on all ‘Mrs. Olivia’ potion bottles.”
“Oh…” Hermione hung her head. “I’m sorry I did such a lousy job, then.”
Malfoy snickered. “You did well enough, Granger. I would have been astounded if you had gotten everything right on the first try. You did well for a beginner.”
It was almost a compliment, and both of them realized it at the same time. The air suddenly shifted between them, and the tension grew at once.
“I should be going,” Hermione said quickly. “Harry is probably waiting for me at home.”
Malfoy’s laugh answered her. “Really, Granger… I still can’t understand how you can put up with him.”
Hermione rolled her eyes at Malfoy. “Once more, Malfoy, this is none of your business.”
Hermione turned around, about to leave, when she suddenly felt strangely off balance. The night’s events were taking their toll on her, and she felt the world spinning around in front of her eyes.
“Granger!”
She heard a distant voice shouting, but it was too late. Everything went black.
The shuffling of blankets woke Hermione up.
Her head was throbbing, and she tried to sit up.
“Lie down, Granger,” she heard Malfoy’s voice saying in front of her as a strong hand pushed her back onto the bed.
“Where-“
“I Apparated both of us back into your apartment. You didn’t seem to be in fit enough condition to do it on your own.”
Hermione looked down at herself, and realized she was already wearing her pajamas. She felt the blood rushing to her face and angrily threw a pillow at Malfoy, hitting him squarely in the chest.
“What’s wrong with you, Granger?” Malfoy asked, actually looking shocked. “Aren’t you supposed to be kissing my feet for saving you from possibly splinching yourself?”
“You undressed me?”
Malfoy’s lips turned up into a lopsided smile. “Oh, that. Well, don’t get your knickers in a bunch, Granger. It wasn’t like I could let you fall asleep in your office clothes. Anyway, my fingers didn’t wander anywhere they shouldn’t. I’d rather like you to be awake for that.”
Vague images of Malfoy undressing her wandered around Hermione’s head, and she threw another pillow at him. This time, he caught it.
“Really, Granger, it’s not a big deal,” Malfoy said, snickering at the look of indignation on her face. “You should actually be thankful that I helped you. I could have left you back there, you know. My initial plan was just to bring you home and let Potter take care of the rest. But, as you can see, he is, once more, nowhere in sight.”
It was the truth. Malfoy had done the right thing, for once. And, if he hadn’t helped her, heaven knows where she would have been right now.
“Thank you, Malfoy.” Hermione whispered, and the smile slid off of Malfoy’s face.
There was so much incredible sadness in Hermione’s voice that not even Malfoy could make fun of her at that moment. With a sigh, he kicked off his shoes and sat down next to her - at an appropriate distance, Hermione noted - on the bed.
“Doesn’t it ever get lonely, Granger?”
Hermione didn’t have to ask what he meant, and her sigh answered him. “At times, yes. But I know Harry loves me. He’s just really busy with his job.”
“And what about you? Do you like waiting around for him all the time?”
“It bothered me at first… but I eventually got used to it. I understand that his job comes first before me. I respect him for that.”
Malfoy let out a low whistle. “You are so messed up, Granger.”
Hermione laughed. “It’s my life, Malfoy, not yours.”
“By the way, do you want some soup or something? I don’t think you’ve eaten since the morning, am I correct?”
Hermione nodded and watched in a daze as Malfoy disappeared down the stairs and came back up with a hot bowl of soup and some bread.
“What’s with all this?” Hermione laughed. “Is this some crazed plan to get me into bed, Malfoy?”
Malfoy winked at her. “I’ve already got you in bed, Granger. Now I’m just trying to soften you up.”
Hermione laughed once more, and watched as Malfoy sat back down beside her, this time not so far away.
It was an amazing feeling talking to Malfoy; though they both had work the next day, they continued chatting until the early morning. It was more of Malfoy asking questions and Hermione answering them, but she didn’t mind. It was a nice feeling, having someone listen to her for once. Hermione had almost forgotten what it felt like.
As Malfoy was putting on his shoes before finally leaving, his head turned around the room, and he frowned. “Where in the world is that magnificent boyfriend of yours who cares about you so much? Work shouldn’t keep him out this late.”
Hermione shrugged, and Malfoy knew her answer even before the words came out of her mouth. “His work keeps him busy.”
There was something wrong about all of this, but Malfoy said nothing. He looked at Hermione lying on the bed, and his heartbeat slowed down as he saw how vulnerable and soft she looked in her purple pajamas. He felt strangely unwilling to go, and had the odd feeling that Hermione wouldn’t mind if he stayed.
“See you later, Granger,” Malfoy finally said, tearing his eyes away from Hermione. “I’m still your boss, and therefore you better not be late.”
“I won’t be, Malfoy,” Hermione replied with a smile, but it was already too late. Malfoy was gone, and she was alone once more.
A Popped Bubble by youngrowling
Chapter Notes: thank you once more to my amazing beta reader. :)