Chapter 3

Hermione avoided Draco for a few more days. She suspected she was being childish, but his rude comment, which she now believed had been a fairly innocent jest, had hurt her pride. Hermione did not go on many dates...and by many, she, of course, meant any. The last one had been over a year ago, and it had gone amazingly well. So well that she'd let the man take her home. Maybe she'd been silly to expect to hear from him after that, but expect it she had. And when he didn't call, she'd packed up her heart and left town, metaphorically speaking.

Literally speaking, she'd stayed put. Everyone knew her in wizarding London where she worked, and that was a huge detriment to her social calendar. Who knew people wouldn't want to date war heroines, especially when Harry and Ron were inundated with offers? Men were very fickle, she'd decided, heart-shaped valise in hand.

She had gotten other offers, but she'd turned them all down, telling herself she relished the solitude, when in reality, she relished her heart remaining in one piece.

So it had shocked her as much as it had Draco when she had continued to let him take her out. And when he'd made the comment that set her off, the one she couldn't even recall now, she was reminded of why she preferred to be alone. She didn't like Draco's flawlessly manicured hand reaching for her valise.

She knew she had to start being polite to him again, eventually. They did have to work together, and even if she wouldn't admit it, she missed their little repartees.

She picked up her mail on the way into her office and sat down heavily in her chair. Her colleague had called in sick again, it appeared. The smell of coffee assaulted her deprived nostrils, and she noticed a steaming cup sitting on her desk. She picked it up and inhaled the aroma.

"I didn't poison it, and if I had, you would never be able to smell it."

The mocking tone demolished her peace.

"Good to know." She put the cup on the desk and pointedly pushed it away.

He only laughed and entered her office. He reached for her mug and took a sip. "See? Poison-free."

"Trust you to build up an immunity, clever boy." Her words were sarcastic, but she had a smile on her face.

He laughed gaily, sitting down in front of her desk. She took the mug back and sipped it, closing her eyes to better enjoy the taste. "Thank you," she said.

"No problem, Granger. Did you get our revised budget for this quarter?"

Her eyes widened and she shook her head. He pointed to the memo she'd placed with her mail, and she grabbed it up.

Draco thought about fleeing when he saw her eyes widen and her fingers clench on the paper, but rashly decided he'd rather witness the explosion than read about it in the Daily Prophet.

"I... am going to... kill... your father."

Now Draco's eyes widened. He hadn't thought she knew Lucius, let alone realized it was he who had approved the budget. Draco knew Lucius wasn't really trying to cause them any trouble, but his father realized the public wanted funding to go to dramatic arenas, like the development and invention of potions or charms. The Department of Charities never spent any money advertising, and people already felt hounded when they received an owl from one of their many team members; they did not like being hit up for more cash. To be fair, their budget had not been decreased, merely left at last year's appropriation level.

But Hermione was seeing red and didn't notice Draco stepping out of her way as she walked to the elevators.

"Go easy on him, Granger! He's only doing his job!"

His words, of course, fell on selectively deaf ears.

Hermione made it to the elder Malfoy's office in record time. He looked up from his desk at her unannounced entrance and then gazed at the time. She'd only taken four minutes from the time of her arrival at work to barrel through his door. Impressive; though he was slightly disappointed to note she must have sat down first or else it would have been two minutes.

"Ah, Miss Granger..."

"Do not 'Miss Granger' me, Lucius Malfoy! Do you know how hard I've worked to get my department up to snuff over the years? How hard your son has worked? We spend our days begging for money from the public, writing up proposals to beg for money, making presentations on begging for money. We spend board meetings on our knees begging and for what? To be told nothing we do makes any difference. This quarter is no different from last quarter, which was no different from the year before or my first year here. Year after year we are given no increase except to allow for inflation! It is absolutely ridiculous, and I will not stand for it!"

Hermione was panting by the time her outburst was finished. Her hands were clenched tight, still holding the damnable memo. Her eyes were wild, and her cheeks flushed.

Lucius couldn't help but be aroused.

But ever the Malfoy, he only stared her down, one silver eyebrow raised as if to ask if she was quite finished. She did not look away, but her breathing calmed, and she began to look as though she was regretting her tangent.

"Miss Granger, I am sorry to hear you are disappointed. However, I only approve the budgets, I do not create them. I am also only one of four who have to approve, and this decision was unanimous. So..." He got up and walked behind her, stopping at her side and saying, "One has to wonder why you chose me, of all the people who more rightly deserve your indignation, as the target of your appeal?" Though, believe me, you appeal to me, he added silently.

She only shrugged, calm now. "You were closest."

"Indeed," he chuckled. "And if I had raised the budget, were it in my power, could I expect you to storm in here demanding to know why I had done so, or would you assume it was your due and carry on as though you had deserved it? Or would I be in for another lecture on nepotism?"

Hermione had to admit she probably would have figured he had done it for Draco, but she would not have questioned it.

She sighed. "I only want what my department deserves. Every year I've been here, we've brought in more money than the last. Yet every year without fail, we are not allocated any more. It's..." She wanted to say 'not fair', but settled for, "...enough to make a person want to stop trying."

Lucius took pity on her; he knew how difficult the bureaucracy of the Ministry was to handle when one was young and idealistic. Or rather, he thought he knew; he'd never had to beg for money like she had, after all.

"Hermione, you and I both know you will never stop trying."

Hermione felt shocked at his casual use of her first name, as well as his comment on her resilience. Was that a compliment, or was he calling her dogged? Malfoys could be so frustrating.

She was silent, and he continued.

"Would that I could change things for you, but the fact is my hands are tied as tightly as yours. If I don't approve the budget, I will be asked to pull the money from somewhere else, possibly even my own salary, more likely out of my staff's. I simply couldn't justify it. Hopefully you will receive some donations to help out your department."

His last comment sounded like a promise. Hermione had no choice but to accept his words and bow out gracefully, if grace could be regained after her monologue.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Malfoy," she said, honestly meaning it. The last thing she wanted was for Lucius' own staff to be short-changed. She would make do, as always.

"Any time, Miss Granger. It was a pleasure, as always."

His voice was a purr, and like his son the night of their first date, he was closer to her than she realized. Was it her imagination, or had the word 'pleasure' been stretched out more emphatically than was normal?

In the elevator going back down to her floor, Hermione began to question her ability to keep her right mind around those damned aristocratic blonds.

She allowed Draco to take her on another date that night. She was feeling down from the budget memo and could use a drink. He seemed to sense her melancholy and took her to a little pub in Muggle London that he used to love to escape to when the pressure of his social image became too much.

A live band was playing, and Hermione was glad she'd come out. It was nice to wear Muggle clothes in public without being stared at, and she had to admit, Draco looked... nice in dark blue jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt. Just nice, of course.

His longish blond hair, firm, lean body, and confident stride made him the centre of attention and her the centre of envy. Hermione didn't like being looked at like she had strangled puppies, so she tried to remain as small as possible. Draco bought their drinks, and they chose a booth near the back of the bar, away from the band.

"So, what you do think?" he asked, referring to the atmosphere.

"It's very... nice," she admitted, using her favourite word of the evening. "I do like Muggle London, though I don't come very often. I feel more at home in the wizarding world these days."

He nodded like he knew what she was talking about. "I like it here, too. Sometimes home gets to be a little... overbearing."

She knew this was an important admission from him, and she agreed gravely. "It's nice to have anonymity, isn't it?"

They both knew what it was like to be recognized left and right...Hermione for being the Golden Heroine, one third of the selfsame Trio; Draco because of his near role in the assassination of Dumbledore and his father's alliance with the Dark side. In war, no one ever thought their side was wrong, so no one ever wondered how they would be seen by the other side. Draco had gotten in too deep, too fast, and even his father hadn't been able to save him, though not for lack of trying.

"That it is."

They sat in a slightly awkward silence until Draco couldn't stand it any more and said the one thing he knew would keep them occupied for the rest of the night.

"So, can you believe that budget?" He smiled and waited for the fallout.