Hermione ran through her Charms homework in her mind as she walked the corridors. O.W.L.s were approaching and although no one else seemed inclined to study or care about them at all, she knew it was best to start early.

She used her time on Prefect rounds to review. There was so much silence around the castle by this time in the evening – now that Umbridge had begun with her "decrees" – that she would go insane if she didn't have something else to occupy herself. She'd asked Ron if he wanted to patrol with her, but of course, since his day for rounds was Tuesday, he'd abruptly declined.

"Why would I go twice?" he'd mumbled around pudding at the dinner table.

To keep her company? She rolled her eyes and continued listing the spells created in the 1920s. She turned a corner towards the History of Magic classroom and stopped mid-step.

Draco Malfoy had Pansy Parkinson pinned against the stone wall. He was kissing her. She was gripping at his arms.

Hermione blinked, feeling her breath leave her.

Her back was against the wall and her hands were tightening on his shoulders, twisting into his hair as he attacked her mouth with his. His right hand on her hip, and his left bracing against the wall.

She swallowed.

These were... These were Prefects for Merlin's sake! And members of Umbridge's delightful little squad. They knew better than to be out, canoodling at 9PM on a Thursday! Leave it for your common room, damnit!

Pansy smiled against his lips.

Hermione opened her mouth, ready to march over to them and forcibly separate them – because it was her Prefect duty, of course.

Then she watched as Draco pulled his mouth away from hers, panting, puffing air across her neck, and reattached to the place just below her ear. Pansy squeaked a small sound, biting her lip.

Hermione didn't understand what the big deal was. Anytime Viktor tried kissing her neck, he either tickled her or hurt her.

Hermione realized that she was standing in the middle of a corridor, watching Draco Malfoy devour his girlfriend... or lover... or whatever she was to him, she grumbled. She either needed to leave or to do her job and separate them.

She stepped forward just as Draco shifted his body, moving a knee between Pansy's knees. He leaned forward, letting his thigh disappear between hers, inching higher, and the moment his leg reached the top of hers, Pansy groaned, gasping and grabbing his hair.

"Draco..."

Alright. That was enough. Hermione narrowed her eyes at the two Slytherins.

"Excuse me," she said loudly. Pansy's eyes snapped open and Draco removed his lips from her neck, but didn't turn to face her. "I'd hate to interrupt whatever is about to happen here, but it is now 9:08. As Prefects, you know that students should be in their common rooms."

Draco dropped his knee, but kept his hand on the wall, panting. Pansy glared at her and stepped around him, straightening her skirt.

"Oh, like you have any idea about what was about to happen, you prissy little Mudblood." Pansy sneered at her.

"I have a few guesses," Hermione deadpanned. "Please return to your common room –"

"Or what?" Pansy smiled. "You'll take house points away? You know you can't. In fact, as a member of the Inquisitorial Squad, I'd say you're being unnecessarily rude, Mudblood."

Hermione bit back her comment, and watched as Draco straightened, stepping away from the wall, and turned to glare at her with hot eyes.

"I'd say, you're right, Pansy."

Hermione huffed.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, for questioning the authority of two Inquisitorial Squad members," Pansy declared.

"Ten points per Squad member, I'd say, Pans."

Twenty points for doing her job?

"You're both ridiculous." She stepped around Pansy and continued down the hall, completing her patrol path. She turned to them. "If I find you in the corridors after curfew again, I'll be giving detentions."

Pansy sneered at her, and Draco, with his hair out of place and his tie twisted, smirked and said, "Can't wait, Granger."

She glared and turned on her heel, walking the long corridor to the left turn, knowing they were watching her the entire way.

~*~

"You did what?"

Hermione winced. She tried to just say it from the kitchen, while making eggs.

"I... applied for Malfoy Consulting Group."

The slap of Ginny's bare feet against the ground and the scrape of Harry's chair.

"When?"

She cracked an egg, back turned.

"At about 1AM last night." She tossed the egg shell in the sink and wiped her hands on a towel.

She'd been nervous all morning. She'd woken up terrified, questioning what she'd done, and now, just when she'd stopped questioning and started coming to terms with it, she told Ginny and Harry. So that they could question her.

"Why?" Harry's voice. She swallowed and turned around.

"He talked me into it. He reminded me that I want to save the world." She met Harry's eyes behind his glasses. His brows had disappeared under his messy hair.

"So you're leaving your position in the Ministry, and all the upward mobility options, to become Malfoy's lapdog?" Harry scowled at her.

"I won't be Malfoy's lapdog. I will be the Senior Consultant over Non-Wizard Relations." She placed her hands on her hips. And Harry's eyes widened.

"Senior Consultant?" Ginny whispered. "What does that even mean?"

Hermione had no fucking clue. That's what terrified her.

"I – I guess I'll figure that out." She brushed hair away from her face. "But I'll be representing magical creatures, like the werewolf case he brought to me. I guess I'll be arguing in front of the Wizengamot –"

"One of your favorite things," Ginny supplied helpfully.

"Yes," Hermione said. "I'll be able to seek out cases and causes that I want to focus on."

"While working under Malfoy," Harry supplied, unhelpfully.

"Yes," Hermione said.

The three of them stared at each other in the kitchen, eggs sizzling behind her.

"I think," Ginny said, "it's an excellent career move..." She said it in a strained voice, lifting at the end.

"But...?" Hermione prompted.

"Well," Ginny looked up at her. "You'll never be able to sleep with him now."

Hermione blinked at her, trying not to realign her priorities. Harry coughed and excused himself to the living room.

~*~

She handed in her two weeks' notice to Mathilda on Monday morning. Mathilda wasn't as shocked as Harry and Ginny were. She nodded her head, smiling, and told her she would miss her very much.

Aiden was very... Aiden about it. He gave her a high-five.

On Tuesday, she came home from work and took another shower, preparing for her first lesson with Madame Michele. She had Ginny braid her hair so it wasn't a mess. She picked out her nicest robes and her terrible sensible heels. And at 7:45PM she stepped through the Floo to find herself in what seemed to be a little Tea Room.

She looked around the waiting area, glad to find it empty. She wandered through the tables, looking at the flower arrangements and fingering the little teacups. The pictures of teacups on the walls reminded her slightly of the cat pictures in Umbridge's office, but at least the teacups didn't meow at her.

She didn't dare sit. There wasn't a couch to sit on, and she would have to pull a chair to sit, so she continued walking around the room in her sensible heels.

At 8PM on the dot, the door to the side room opened. A short brunette woman with an elegant turban placed on her head and small glasses hanging off the end of her nose raised a brow at her.

"Mz 'Ermione Granger?"

"Yes, hello."

"I am Madame Michele."

This was the abominable woman Fleur told her about? She barely came up to Hermione's nose.

"Hello. Wonderful to meet you, Madame Michele." Hermione stepped forward, fumbling her coat and her purse to reach out her hand.

Madame Michele stared at her outstretched hand, then grasped it with her gloved one, lifting her chin.

Oh dear. Was shaking hands not allowed? Should she have curtseyed?

The tiny woman released her hand and smiled up at her. "Please come into my office." Madame Michele stepped aside, gesturing for Hermione to enter.

Hermione took a seat in front of the desk in the corner. Another lovely airy room.

Madame Michele flowed into her chair, and Hermione was struck wondering how such a small body could move so elegantly. Madame Michele flicked her wand, and a Quick Quotes Quill sprung to life next to her.

"Do ignore ze quill, Mz Granger."

Hermione snapped her eyes back to the small woman, knowing she had guessed exactly where her eyes were.

The woman pursed her lips, looking at something on her desk. It was silent for several moments. Hermione didn't know where she was supposed to look, but she knew she was supposed to ignore the quill. There was a window behind Madame Michele, so as she waited for something to happen, she watched the clouds drift.

Madame Michele lifted the paper she was reading at her desk, and Hermione saw it was the Daily Prophet from Saturday morning. The front page stared at her while Madame Michele looked at the middle section of the paper, and Draco on the stage, holding his champagne glass up, glinted at her.

She had skimmed the article on Saturday, but Skeeter had been given practically the entire newspaper to gush about Narcissa Malfoy's New Year's Eve Gala. The picture of Harry, Ginny and herself toasting and drinking had made it on page 2, and another picture of her talking with the German Minister of Magic on page 4. Narcissa, Draco, Harry, and Blaise all had more photographs within as well. A pull-quote popped out, saying "Splendid evening!" – Hermione Granger. Well, she supposed that was half true.

Madame Michele held the paper in her fingers. "You are a stunning woman, Mz Granger."

"Oh, er... thank you."

"'Oh, er... thank you.'" Madame Michele dropped the paper. "Zat is 'ow you respond to a compliment?"

Oh. Yes, she could now see what Fleur meant.

"Thank you, Madame Michele," she corrected herself.

"So you think you are a stunning woman?" Her black eyes pierced her from the top of her small glasses.

"... No?"

Madame Michele smiled a condescending smile at her. She stood from her desk. Hermione stood as well.

"Let's 'ave some tea. I want to get to know you better." She glided around her desk and lead Hermione out into the Tea Room. Hermione followed, watching the little woman walk in her short heels. Madame Michelle stopped just outside the doorway to her office and reached for Hermione's coat and bag. She placed them on the coat rack. "Please, chooz whichever table you'd like."

Hermione looked at the twelve or so tables in the room and chose the large table in the center. She pulled the chair as quietly as possible and sat. Once she was sat, Madame Michele turned from her and went to the tea cart. She waved her wand and a cake and biscuit tray floated over to Hermione, landing in the middle of the table. The little woman heated the water with her wand and once it whistled, Madame Michele hand-carried the tray with the teapot, milk, and sweeteners.

She placed the tray on the table without magic, and took the seat across from Hermione. As it was six-person table, this meant they were quite far from each other.

"Tell me about yourzelf, Mz Granger."

Hermione blinked at her. Madame Michele had folded her hands in her lap, and studied her.

"I – Well, my name is Hermione Granger" – she could have Avada'd herself right there – "and I grew up here in England. I am an only child. Both my parents are Muggles, but at the age of eleven I received my Hogwarts letter..."

Hermione glanced at the small woman in the turban. She said nothing, but continued to watch her.

"So... I went to Hogwarts, where I met Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, two of my closest friends. And despite some... hiccups... and wars... we got out of there alive." Hermione smiled, trying "wit" against Madame Michele. "I work for the Ministry now – or, er, I did work for the Ministry, but I just accepted a job with Malfoy Consulting Group."

Hermione paused, wondering how long she was supposed to talk about herself. As Madame Michele nodded her head, tapping her chin with her fingers, she wondered if she should now ask her to tell her about herself. Was this a back and forth?

"Thank you, Mz Granger," Madame Michele hummed. "You managed to glozz over every interesting detail about yourzelf, focusing only on the 'umdrum."

Hermione's eyes widened. Humdrum?

Madame Michele stood, and swept up the top of the teapot. She dipped a stirring spoon in and stirred clockwise, three times, then took the pot over to Hermione's cup. Once she'd poured both cups, she said, "Milk, Mz Granger?"

"Yes, thank you."

Madame Michele hand delivered the milk to her, placing it just right of her teacup. "Sugar, Mz Granger?"

Hermione found that there was no honey on the table, so she looked up her and replied, "Er, yes, thank you."

Madame Michele lifted a brow at her. "You do not uz sugar, Mz Granger, so pleaz tell me what it iz you need."

Hermione swallowed. "Do you happen to have honey, Madame Michele?"

Madame Michele smirked. "I do." She waived her hand and honey appeared on the table. Madame Michele waited as Hermione slipped milk into her cup and dipped the spoon into the honey three times. Hermione was sweating by the time she finally stirred her cup, spoon clinking against the side only once, thankfully.

She looked up at Madame Michele, still standing next to her. She was smirking at the honey pot.

Hermione's heart dropped into her stomach as she wondered how many times Madame Michele had watched Draco spoon honey into his tea three times. She blushed and looked down.

Madame Michele took the milk back, took her seat again, and fixed her tea. Hermione watched as her hands moved. She didn't have paint on her nails, but her nails were trimmed and squared. Hermione picked at one of her cuticles.

Madame Michele picked up her teacup, bringing her saucer with it, and said, "You are too well-known of a woman to be azked to provide trivial detailz. Anyone who azks you to 'tell zem about yourzelf' iz either teazing you or flirting with you, Mz Granger."

She frowned at her.

"Do not frown."

Hermione relaxed her face.

"Mz Granger, why are you 'ere?"

Hermione immediately guffawed. She looked down at her teacup, ashamed now of laughing out loud. She schooled her features and looked back up at Madame Michele. She tried to think of Lucius Malfoy's answer to this question.

"I am here to learn the social graces of pure-blood society that I missed out on as a child. I am here so that I may blend in better amongst my peers."

Madame Michele shook her head, looking down at her cup. "Blend in..." She sipped. She placed her teacup back on the table and stood from her chair. "Mz. Granger, our lezzon iz over for tonight."

What? When did it begin?

"I'm sorry?" Hermione stood. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no, Mz Granger," Madame Michele waved her hand and two pieces of parchment zoomed from her office into her hands. "Never assume zat you are ze culprit." She stared down at the first parchment, reading through it. She nodded and folded the paper, handing it to Hermione.

"Study zis, and return improved."

"What is it?" Hermione said, not sure if she should open the paper here.

"Your notes."

Notes? Madame Michele's eyes were on the second piece of paper in her hands.

"You work at a bookshop on ze weekendz?"

"Er, yes," Hermione said, wondering what was on the second piece of paper. Madame Michele glanced at her, raising a brow. Hermione corrected herself, "Yes, Madame Michele. I do."

"I will schedule you with Mz Truesdale for Thursday evenings zen," she said. "And Mister DuBois will owl you to schedule an appointment on either Saturday or Sunday morning."

Hermione frowned. "Miss...?"

"Truesdale. Your dance teacher."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh, no... I was only..." She stopped. "I am only taking manners classes from you, Madame Michele. I am not taking other courses at this time –"

"Mz Granger." Madame Michele removed her glasses and let them hang around her neck from a string of gems. Her eyes were tired, but direct. "The inheritance transfers tonight at 9PM."

She felt her chest grow cold.

"But only a tenth of it." Madame Michele pursed her lips. "Next Tuesday, at 9PM, another tenth will transfer. And so on and so on." She leveled her stare on her. "Providing you attend and absorb your lessons zis week. All of zem."

Hermione opened her mouth, an indignant sound popping out, and felt her blood boil. She clenched her fist around Madame Michele's notes, and turned her eyes on the ground, burning a hole into in. Her jaw was tight as she ran through the multiple ways she wished to slaughter Lucius Malfoy. A small hand lifted her chin.

As she met her eyes, Madame Michele placed her hand on Hermione's upper chest, just below her neck, two fingers resting lightly on her throat. Hermione's eyes popped, alarmed.

"Head up, Mz Granger. Do not 'ide your anger. Direct it. Control it." Black eyes pierced her, and Hermione couldn't breathe. "And most importantly, do not 'ide zis." Hermione felt a light tap on her throat. "It iz your only weapon."

She removed her hand from her neck, and Hermione felt a weight disappear, a breath enter her body as she stared back into the firm but kind eyes of Madame Michele.

What the fuck was that?

"I 'ave known Lucius Malfoy for a very long time, Mz Granger." Madame Michele pursed her lips. "You are not ze first person to be blackmailed by 'im, and you will not be ze last. 'E will get what 'e wants, one way or ze other." She held out the second piece of paper to Hermione. "Choose ze easy way."

Blinking rapidly, Hermione looked down to find her schedule for the rest of the week. She had dance lessons on Thursday night, hosting classes on Saturday or Sunday morning, and she was to meet with an interior decorator on Saturday on her lunch break. This was to be her life for the next ten weeks.

She let out a shaky breath, trying to remember what Madame Michele just told her about directing her anger and not biting it back. She looked up at the tiny woman.

"Thank you, Madame Michele. How shall I pay you for tonight's class?"

"It 'as already been paid for, mademoiselle."

"Oh, absolutely not," Hermione snarled. "Please send the bill to my home address, and please return Mr. Malfoy's money to him. I won't be taking it."

Madame Michele smirked at her, and nodded. Hermione grabbed up her coat and purse, throwing powder into the fireplace and returned home.

~*~

Whatever fond feelings Hermione had found for Madame Michele at the end of their lesson were quickly squashed when she read through her notes. The Quick Quotes Quill had been writing the entire time it seemed.

Do not wander in another person's sitting room
Hand shaking?
Compliments?
Do not stare out the window like a fool
Do not choose the largest grandest table for only two people
Do not bounce your leg under the table
No need to stand when a woman stands
What in heavens name are your shoes?
Do not stutter – you know your own brain and you know what you mean to say

The list went on, filling the whole parchment. Hermione tossed it on the ground in exasperation. She picked it up again five minutes later.

She received the bill by owl shortly after she arrived home. Her jaw dropped. Perhaps she should have let Lucius handle it.

Then she remembered glossing over a figure for salary in Draco's contract that was three times her current Ministry pay, and she conceded that she would, in fact, be able to afford Madame Michele's fee once a week for ten weeks. Of course, she had no idea how much dance lessons, hosting classes and interior decorating lessons were going to be.

'E will get what 'e wants, one way or ze other.

What was it that Lucius wanted?

Hermione bit her lip, and stared at the wall of her room that used to be the Wall. She thought he wanted her to stay away from Draco. That these classes were her punishment for disobeying him. But now she wasn't sure.

~*~

Miss Truesdale ended up being the most horrid person Hermione had ever had the displeasure of knowing.

At Thursday's dance lesson, she had her self-confidence so severely beaten by this withered ex-ballerina, that she ate a whole carton of ice-cream by herself.

Miss Truesdale made it very clear to Hermione that she would need much more than ten weeks to catch up, and took absolutely no pleasure in watching her move throughout the night. It wasn't until Miss Truesdale took her to a ballet bar and began taking her through a Muggle ballet warmup, that she looked at her with anything but distaste. Hermione's two years of Muggle ballet as a six-year-old came flooding back to her, and she was at least able to remember the positions.

She received a letter on Friday – as she nursed her aching legs – addressed to Miss Granger. It was on M.C.G. letterhead and it was Draco's handwriting, but it seemed quite... generic.

It detailed a bit more information that the original contract and paperwork did not cover. First day for all staff was to be Monday January 17th, with true operations beginning the following week. It also invited all Senior Consultants to begin setting up their offices as early as the coming Monday. He proposed a casual meet-and-greet on Tuesday or Wednesday evening, so that all Senior Consultants could interact.

Hermione wrote back to him immediately, letting him know that Tuesday was no good for her, but Wednesday evening she could do. She frowned, thinking of her next Madame Michele lesson, having nine more to go. An owl got back later. Draco said Wednesday evening was the best option for most.

Her interior decorating lesson on Saturday afternoon and her hosting class Sunday morning were both adequate. Her instructors didn't seem to like her very much, and Monsieur DuBois made her feel like she was wasting his time. Her second lesson with Madame Michele was much like the first. Madame Michele greeted her the same way. At 8PM on the dot, the office door opened, and Madame Michele asked her if she had any questions.

"I—well ..." Hermione took a breath and closed her eyes.

Do not stutter.

"Yes, Madame Michele. I was hoping you would explain to me the proper greeting, if hand-shaking is not allowed."

The corner of Madame Michele's mouth twitched, and she said, "You do take hands, Mz Granger, but you should do so az a lady. Not az a gentleman."

This was far too vague. The charms mistress saw her confusion and said, "Mz Granger, 'ow do you do?" She lifted her hand, but her palm didn't face out, like a normal handshake gesture. Her palm angled downward, her fingers delicately loose – like how Miss Truesdale had wanted – and she stepped toward Hermione.

Hermione's only choice was to take her hand with her own palm facing upward, like she was about to kiss her ring. "How do you do, Madame Michele." Madame Michele's fingers gripped her own, so only their fingers touched, not their palms.

Hermione felt ridiculous. She felt ridiculous for most of the night. Madame Michele instructed Hermione to please serve the tea. Hermione blinked at her and went to the corner of the room, fumbling around with the service cart. She knew Madame Michele was watching her and she knew the Quick Quotes Quill was scribbling furiously in the next room.

She tried to remember everything Madame Michele had done the previous week, knowing that that was the test.

Her list of notes that evening was twice the length.

~*~

She needed new robes. She almost screamed in frustration on Wednesday evening when nothing in her closet suited her. She was about to meet her new co-workers, the people she would be working closely with and she had nothing to wear. She had Muggle outfits, Muggle business attire, but did she want to meet everyone screaming "I am Muggle-born!"?

She settled on her blue robes. They were the most comfortable and she loved the color the most.

The M.C.G. office was in Westminster, quite close to the Ministry headquarters. Guests were to enter using a door labeled "Deliveries" which would open to a lobby with a lift taking them straight to the top floor. Hermione called for the lifts, and stared down at her feet, taking deep breaths.

She at least needed new shoes.

"Hermione Granger?"

She turned to see a middle-aged gentleman with a briefcase entering the "Deliveries" door. She didn't recognize him.

"Yes, hello?"

"I heard you would be joining Malfoy Consulting." He had a warm smile. "Wendell Wentworth. Management Consultant." He held out his hand and Hermione completely forgot last night's instruction from Madame Michele as she took his hand. "I'll be working closely with Mr. Malfoy on cases for H.R., Financials, all that."

Hermione's heart beat again once she realized that "Mr. Malfoy" was Draco, not Lucius.

"Oh lovely." She hitched her bag higher on her shoulder. "I'll be overseeing Non-Wizard Relations. Magical creatures, Muggle relations..."

"My, what a splendid idea!" Wentworth beamed. "What a perfect witch for the job!" She liked him already. The lift arrived and they stepped in. "You know, Miss Granger, I do believe you and I are the only Gryffindors so far, so we must stick together!"

Hermione smiled, wondering if she was, in fact, taking a lift to the Snake Pit.

The doors split open to reveal a wide and open penthouse floor. There was a reception desk immediately in front of them, cubicles scattering the center of the floor, and doors leading to private offices lining all four walls. Windows for natural sunlight stood proudly between the offices, and there were plants in corners. The room was alive.

"After you, Miss Granger," Wentworth said. And Hermione remembered herself and stepped out of the lift.

A plump black-haired woman rose from behind the reception desk.

"Mr. Wentworth, Miss Granger. Welcome." She did not smile. "I'm Dorothea. Administration Manager. Once we have our receptionists next week, I will be in my office over there." She pointed a thick finger to the office over Hermione's left shoulder, just right of the elevators. Hermione was secretly quite glad that this grumpy little woman would not be the one greeting visitors...

"You can see me for any administration issues, like paychecks, scheduling portkeys, those things. I'm available for everything you need." Dorothea's voice did not quite match her friendly, helpful words. "As you can see, our researchers, analysts and associate consultants will take up the majority of the center space." Dorothea gestured to the cubicles in the center of the floor. "Mr. Wentworth, your office is this way, near Mr. Malfoy's."

Hermione followed Dorothea's finger as it pointed to the left corner, opposite of the elevators. Mr. Malfoy's office.

"And Miss Granger," Dorothea turned around, pointing to the right, just behind her. "Your office is just here."

A corner office. A corner office that was as distant from Draco's office as physically possible. Hermione supposed that was for the best.

Dorothea seemed to dismiss them as she sat back at her desk, thumbing through a binder. Wentworth sent her a smile and bid her goodbye, heading toward his office. Hermione turned, taking in her office door. In between the elevators and her office was a couch, a little waiting area. Hermione smiled, thinking of clients waiting for an appointment with her. Maybe she'd have walk-ins. People who would wait all day for a moment of her free time.

She approached her office and saw the name plate on the office door just to the left of hers.

Blaise Zabini
Marketing and Public Relations

Hermione sighed, wondering how she'd get any work done around here.

She opened the door and found an office twice the size of her apartment's bedroom. Her brows lifted and her lips parted as she took in the Cherrywood desk, with matching cabinets behind, and an entire wall of empty book shelves to her right. There were two huge windows overlooking Whitehall, one on each exterior wall of the corner office.

The carpet was plush beneath her feet, and Hermione stood in her doorway for several moments, looking at the warm seats in front of her desk, and the warm color on the walls, thinking of how unimposing she would be behind this desk. She would be warm, and open.

She walked to the far corner, taking in the view from her desk. She gazed down at the Cherrywood and it finally hit her. Gryffindor dormitories. That's what this reminded her of.

She smiled and took a seat at her desk, running her fingers over it.

"Hermione Granger: Corporate Sell-out."

She looked up to see Blaise Zabini leaning against her door frame. He held a mug of tea and crossed his right ankle over his left.

He smirked at her.

"Corporate sell-out?"

"Sure. You've got the corner office, the high-paying salary, the private sector. Sold your soul to the devil, you did."

She raised a brow at him. "And if your office is just next door to mine, what does that make you?"

He lifted his tea to his dark lips. "Lucky." He winked at her as he took a sip.

She frowned at him even as she felt a blush creeping up her neck.

"Blaise." Draco's voice. Hermione sat tall and tried to look busy, even though she was clearly in the middle of a conversation with Blaise, with nothing on her desk.

"My liege," Blaise said, turning from his spot in the doorway and executing a deep bow. Hermione could just make out Draco's shoulder.

"When you are assigned an office, I expect you to stay in it."

"But I much prefer the view on this side of the building," Blaise said, his smile was a little too devilish for Hermione's liking.

"As Senior Consultant on Marketing and P.R., I need you closer to me. Clear out of that office." Voice firm.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy." Blaise saluted him, turned a wink on her, and exited her door completely.

So Blaise was assigned an office on the other side of the floor, but had moved his belongings and nameplate to the one next to hers? She shook her head at the empty bookshelves. Her empty bookshelves.

Movement from the doorway caught her eye and she lifted her head to see Draco poke his head in.

"Evening, Granger."

"Oh, yes, hi."

He disappeared. She slapped her hand against her forehead.

Hermione decided to take a breath and get her shit together. She was a working professional and she needed to start behaving like one.

She stood from her desk, intent on looking through her filing cabinets when she heard a knock on her door frame. My, it was busy around here.

She turned to see a thin man with stylish specs leaning into her office.

"Miss Hermione Granger?"

"Yes? Hello?"

"I'm Corban Hartford. Malfoy Consulting's solicitor." He stepped fully into her office and she took in his spiffy robes.

"The solicitor for the group of solicitors?" Hermione smiled. "You must be the best then." She shook his hand and he tapped his glasses up, grinning.

"I'm holding private meetings with all Senior Consultants on the contract and paperwork today. Is now a good time?"

"Yes, absolutely." Hermione turned to her bag and began pulling out the packet Draco mailed to her on New Year's Eve with the contract and guidelines. "Sit down."

She turned and Corban Harford was gently closing her office door. How odd to have an office with a door instead of a cubicle. How odd to be in a closed-door meeting.

Corban took his seat and opened up the binder he'd carried in.

"Alright, so you have the original contract." His eyes flipped up to her fingers where she held it. "We have added addendums which I will be happy to discuss with you, if clarification is needed or if you'd like to negotiate anything." His voice lifted at the end, like this was his tenth time doing this spiel today. Maybe it was.

He continued in a slightly lazy voice, "Now, Miss Granger, keep in mind that although I am beholden to M.C.G., and Mr. Malfoy himself, you now fall under the umbrella of M.C.G. I am your solicitor now, as well. You can come to me with any questions or if you need legal advice for yourself not only as an employee, but also as a person. The only time I will not be able to represent you is if you file against Malfoy Consulting Group or Mr. Malfoy. But it's my job here today," and he tapped the contracts and addendums, "to make sure there will be no reason to find myself on the other side of the court from you." He gave a small smile.

Her brain buzzed with all the different ideas flying through her head. All the different possible ways she could find herself battling M.C.G. in court. Battling Draco.

"Alright, yes."

He flipped a page in the binder. "So, we have the Workplace Guidelines, Non-Disclosure Agreement, Conflict of Interest Policy, Sexual Harassment documents including the Love Contract, Do Not Compete Clause, and of course your Duty Statement."

Hermione blinked.

"Er... There are a couple of terms in there that will need to be explained to me."

"Of course," Corban said, taking his glasses off to clean them. Corban then launched into a discourse to define the Workplace Guidelines. Then he fully defined the Non-Disclosure Agreement. By the time he started on the Conflict of Interest Policy, Hermione's knee was bouncing under the table, itching to speed him along. She knew what a fucking Conflict of Interest Policy was.

"With the Sexual Harassment documents, you'll find the normal business," he said, scratching his temple. "Any complaints can be directed to me, or to Mrs. Bulstrode in Admin" – Hermione realized this must be Dorothea, and she thought what an unfortunate pool of genetics there – "or you can complete an anonymous complaint, and submit it directly to the Ministry, to be examined by an outside source."

Hermione blinked. "Yes, alright. And what is it you said about a Love Contract?"

"Oh, yes." And Corban Hartford waved his hand, as if this wasn't the most interesting thing he said in the past ten minutes. "The Love Contract Policy helps to establish some workplace guidelines for coworkers who become romantically involved. We're asking all employees to disclose any current or past romantic relationships with another employee, and if two employees do become involved, to disclose it immediately."

"Oh, of course." That wasn't really too bad...

"All relationships between managers and reporting staff members are forbidden, of course, as it would affect working relationships. If a manager and a reporting staff member choose to become involved, it is the manager who would need to excuse themselves from their position, and find employment elsewhere."

Hermione's face was tight. His eyes examined hers, and she watched as he assumed she was confused.

"Like for instance," he continued, pushing his glasses up, "if you were to become involved with a bloke who was one of your associate consultants under Non-Wizard Relations – or a woman! Don't mean to assume! –"

He smiled. He was quite cute and she quite wanted to kill him.

"—If you entered into a relationship with someone one tier beneath you, once it was disclosed, you would need to excuse yourself as Senior Consultant to continue seeing that person." He crossed his leg. "Does that make sense?"

She stared at herself in the reflection of his glasses, hearing that Draco would have to be the one to leave Malfoy Consulting Group, should the two of them ever find their way to each other.

She swallowed. "Perfect sense."