Madame Michele was quite taken aback to see her in Pansy's clothes that night.

She was even more taken aback when Hermione burst out, "I can't handle this handshake thing! I—I just really can't get around it. I'm at work in a professional environment with men who shake hands like men and they aren't trying to shake hands with a lady. I can't do it and I won't." She huffed. "I'm sorry."

She looked at her feet, embarrassed.

"Az long az you know ze difference, Mz Granger" was her cool reply. She looked her up and down. "You look quite lovely. What 'as 'appened to you."

Hermione reigned herself in. "Thank you, Madame Michele." She added, "You're too kind." She looked down at her dress. "I have become the spokesperson and model for the Parkinson line."

"Oh! Mz Parkinzon. What an enchanting girl."

Hermione kept from rolling her eyes. Of course she was.

That night Madame Michele took the opportunity to teach her how to walk in heels and how to treat expensive clothes.

Hermione thought it was the only lesson thus far that she'd found in the least bit helpful for everyday life.

~*~

The next morning, Hermione called Pansy in a panic at seven in the morning.

"I'm so, so sorry, Pansy," Hermione said as the tall girl stepped out of her fireplace. "But I tried to do what Daphne and Tracey did yesterday, and I don't think it worked."

Pansy looked at her. "It didn't."

"I know, I know. I just don't want to be wearing this amazing dress, if my hair and makeup don't match." She gestured down at the lovely burnt orange dress that Pansy had her in. She looked up at Pansy – whose makeup was perfection for this time in the morning – and begged her with her eyes.

"Take it all off." Pansy frowned. "Take the dress off, take the makeup off, take that disastrous pony-tail out. Merlin, Granger, what were you trying to do?"

"I was trying to do the 'power-pony' thing that Tracey did yesterday!" she growled.

"Granger, you can't wear your hair in the same style two days in a row!" Pansy pulled a face at her.

"You can't just give me a closet full of beautiful clothes and expect me to know these things, Pansy!"

Hermione groaned and stomped away to take everything off. When she returned in her bathrobe five minutes later, Tracy and Daphne were in her living room, looking barely awake.

"Oh," Hermione said. "I'm so sorry to be such a pain to you all."

Tracey shook her head, like she wasn't a pain. Daphne didn't disagree with her.

"Alright." Pansy appeared from the kitchen, having brewed them tea. "We are going to do this in front of a mirror for the next three days."

As the girls started in on her, and Pansy went to throw away anything she didn't like in Hermione's closet, she wondered if this was what growing up in Slytherin would have been like. She didn't regret her seven years with the boys, and it was nice to have Lavender and Parvati leave her alone most of the time...

But she felt like this was how a weekend morning in the Slytherin dormitories would have been.

~*~

The Daily Prophet came out on Sunday morning, sporting the picture of Draco, Blaise and her on Draco's couch above the fold.

Perfect. It was her least favorite of all the pictures taken, but of course it was on the front page of the Prophet.

NEW BLOOD ON THE HORIZON
by Rita Skeeter

With poise and confidence, Draco Malfoy has started a revolution. He has hand-picked the team, he has secured the office space, he has arranged the furniture! The company that will bring forth major change in the wizarding world has opened.

A self-proclaimed "problem-solver," Draco Malfoy brushes his golden hair aside as he talks to yours truly about his major plans.

Hermione rolled her eyes. She leaned on the counter at Cornerstone, frowning at the title. It had... interesting connotations.

She scanned over the interviews of the other consultants, letting her eyes linger on the picture. She looked quite pretty. Pansy's dress was very complementary and the leather vest pulled her ribs in just so. The hair and makeup was spot on.

So it wasn't her in the picture that she didn't like. It was just so... sexy. Like a perfect little ménage a trois with the three of them. Just like she'd thought, Hermione's hips were awfully close to Draco's head, and Blaise had leaned forward just enough to bring his chest close to her shoulder.

This was a consulting group, not a strip club for Merlin's sake!

Hermione opened the paper to find an entire page dedicated to her. She gasped in the middle of the bookstore, and the hag looked at her like she had said Voldemort's name in vain.

The picture of her reading the book on Draco's desk took up almost the entire page. She opened and closed her mouth, wondering if Skeeter had played with the image at all. Her legs looked so long in the heels, and her lips looked so full. She watched her hand turn the page and her lips smirk.

On the accompanying page, Hermione saw a picture of her posing in front of Draco's window, and she recognized the moment when Draco had walked in the room and they had made eye contact.

Real-life Hermione blushed as she watched Prophet Hermione's eyes heat. "Oh, god..." She closed her eyes, blocking the image of herself watching Draco watch her. Was she really that obvious in person?

She sighed and read the article. The article completely about herself. Skeeter detailed the duties of the position, thankfully including bits from their interview about which magical creature groups they would be focusing on in the first quarter. Then apparently Skeeter had interviewed the others about her.

A pull-quote from Blaise Zabini: "She's as passionate as she is beautiful."

Hermione's eye widened. How ridiculously inappropriate. She scanned the page and found that a girl in the secretarial pool told Skeeter that Hermione was "kind of a hero to her! Everyone at Ilvermorny knew who she was!" Hermione frowned. She didn't recognize the girl's name at all and made a note to figure out which one she was.

At the end of the article, Draco Malfoy was quoted. "What drew me to her was her mind. She's very logical."

Hermione pulled her head back. Logical? Well, yes...

The door to Cornerstone opened and she closed the paper on the pictures of herself. She looked up and Corban Hartford was coming through the door.

She took a moment to place him in her mind, finding it so difficult to see him outside of a discussion about office romance.

"Mr. Hartford! Hello!" She smiled as he waved to her.

"Miss Granger, I thought you worked here." He grinned as he stepped up to the counter. "I'm looking for a birthday present for my father, and I thought I'd pay you a visit." He pushed his glasses up and looked around the store.

"Well, it's my lucky day then." She pushed the paper away. "Anything in particular? Or just browsing?"

"I'd love suggestions, if you have any." He hitched a satchel bag higher on his shoulder. "He's not a fan of fiction, unfortunately, or else I'd have a few suggestions of my own."

Hermione walked around the counter. "You're a fiction fan, Mr. Hartford?" She led him towards the biographies and non-fiction.

"Yes, absolutely. It keeps my mind off all the law books I've memorized." He shot her a lazy smile. "And you can call me Corban. Don't worry about that Mr. Hartford stuff." He waved a hand away and looked to the stacks.

Hermione showed him to the Mattie McHandry books that she had initially showed to Narcissa. He bought two of them, and they chatted for a bit about how she was liking Malfoy Consulting.

"The article in the Prophet was lovely, by the way," he said.

"Oh, thanks." She blushed. She took Madame Michele's advice and took the compliment. "Being on the cover of the Prophet was never my favorite thing, but the article turned out nicely." She placed the books in a bag and handed them over."I hope your father likes the books!"

"Me too!" He gave her a nervous face that she laughed at. "Good day, Miss Granger."

"You can call me Hermione."

He turned to her at the door. "Good day, Hermione." He smiled and pushed his glasses up.

Hermione grinned a bit more after that.

~*~

When she got home from work, a letter from Ron was waiting for her. She put down her bag and as she picked it up, Ginny poked her head in.

"That arrived about an hour ago." Ginny hovered in the doorway.

"Mhm." Hermione read over the letter. Ron was questioning her decisions with wording like, "I thought you were taking a job in House-Elf Relocation or in the Auror's Office? I'm completely floored, Hermione."

Hermione read it through, frowning. She looked up at Ginny who was biting her lip.

"Well?"

"I'm just shocked that he hadn't heard yet." Hermione rubbed her face. "It never came up between you two?"

"I wasn't going to tell him!" Ginny danced over to her, grabbing the letter and scanning it. "Oh, nice, Ronald..." she grumbled.

"And Harry never told him? And he didn't read about it last week when Skeeter announced it? Couldn't he have just sent me a Howler with the others last week?" Hermione sat on the edge of her bed. A copy of the Prophet lay next to her, and her bedroom eyes stared up from the sheets.

Ginny tried to make her feel better for a bit longer, but all she saw was the picture on the bed of her in a green dress with smoky eyes, with Ron's words dancing in her head.

I guess you really are a Slytherin now, Hermione.

~*~

The Daily Prophet article must have done something wonderful for M.C.G., because the office was humming on Monday morning. Hermione barely had enough time to set down her coffee before a memo flew in, requesting all Senior Consultants for a meeting at nine.

She prepped her notes, conjured a full-length mirror to double check her work on her face and hair that morning, and headed to the conference room. Wentworth and Dorothea had taken their usual seats from last week's meeting, so she did the same.

Draco and Blaise walked in together, laughing about something. It was sweet, really, to see the two of them behaving as friends, Draco taking a break from his boss personae.

Blaise sat across from her and winked. She raised a brow at him.

Just as Draco began his "good mornings," Corban walked in. Hermione smiled and waved to him. He grinned at her and set his briefcase down at the end of the table at the empty seat facing Draco. She hadn't seen him in the office at all last week, and as she thought about it, perhaps he didn't actually have an office here. Perhaps he was just dropping in from time to time.

She looked up at Draco, prepared for him to start. He was watching Corban. Draco looked down at his notes, shifted his feet, and began.

"Excellent first week, everyone. I think people are settling in nicely. I want to instigate weekly Monday meetings for an opportunity to check in, set weekly goals if necessary, share successes." He turned to Blaise. "Blaise just landed the Chudley Cannons for us last week. Excellent news."

Hermione turned to see Blaise grinning proudly.

"You're making me blush, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco continued, outlining the week. Draco and she would meet with Quentin Margolis on Wednesday about the werewolf project, and then Thursday or Friday they would sit down with Corban to discuss the upcoming steps with the Wizengamot. Mockridge had a few pureblood families that had hired M.C.G. to work on their finances, and Wentworth was pursuing a few businesses in Diagon Alley.

As he went on, and as the consultants engaged in conversation with him more, she realized she was hearing "Mr. Malfoy" quite a bit. It was strange. A bit too strange for her, but she guessed that calling him Malfoy was better than Draco. It wasn't as if they were friends, anyway.

"And lastly, do be careful with your mail," Draco continued. "The Prophet article really put us on the map, but not all publicity is good. I've already dealt with four Howlers this morning."

He scratched his jaw. He looked tired already and the day had barely begun.

He dismissed them, and after she packed up she passed Corban on the way out.

"Did your father like the books? Have you given them to him yet?"

"He... Well, he said thank you." Corban smiled. "He's not big on affection or gratitude... or paternal instincts, really..." Corban laughed down at the table. "So, he liked them enough."

Hermione grinned. "That's wonderful. Well, I'm always available for more suggestions. Let me know!"

"Brilliant. Thank you, Hermione."

He smiled at her and began flipping through some notes instead of packing up, perhaps about to have a meeting with Draco – Malfoy. Malfoy.

She looked up and found him watching her and Corban. He looked away and began shuffling his notes as she left.

She turned out the door and straight into Blaise, who was leaning against the wall. He grinned at her.

"Yes, Blaise?" she bit out, continuing down the aisle towards her office.

"You and Hartford are friends. That's adorable." He followed. "You're like two little nerds who grew up to be attractive."

She coughed to hide her blush, hearing him behind her. "Blaise, if you're into that sort of thing, I'd be happy to introduce you?" she tossed over her shoulder, and caught him smirking.

She rounded the corner and felt the eyes in the cubicles tracing them. Or maybe it was just Blaise, she thought, as Melody gave them a bright smile.

"Walter has your early morning mail, Miss Granger," Melody sang.

"Oh, wonderful. Thank you." She continued on, hoping Blaise would be caught up by Melody's cleavage...

"I'm loving this Modern Business Witch thing, Granger."

No luck. And it struck her that he was walking behind her, so the visual he was commenting on –

"Thank you, Blaise. Now go away."

He laughed as she reached Walter's desk. Walter stood and heaved a bin up on the ledge of the cubicle.

"What is that?" she asked in horror.

"Your mail," Walter grimaced. He looked inside. "I've separated everything. To the left side of this bucket are the actual work-related letters and packages. I can go through some of that with you later, as I found a particularly interesting letter from the Snidget Society that I'd like to push with you." He tapped the right side of the bin. "But over here, are all your personal letters." He grimaced.

"Personal letters? I shouldn't have personal mail delivered here."

Walter scrunched his nose. "I quite agree. I was very uncomfortable opening everything, so maybe we can try a better system if this continues."

"What kind of personal letters?" Blaise leaned against Walter's cube, looking into the bucket smirking. He'd procured a cup of tea from somewhere.

"Well, some fan mail, some hate mail, a letter from Witch Weekly – apparently you have been chosen to grace next week's cover – but also some proposals from eligible bachelors." Walter rolled his eyes.

"Proposals?" Hermione frowned.

"Really?" Blaise sent a greedy look into the bucket. He raised his mug to his lips.

"I assume if I get any of those in the afternoon mail, that I can chuck them?" Walter said.

Hermione blinked, still not fully understanding the purpose of a proposal to an absolute stranger through mail. She looked to Blaise, smirking around the mug, and turned to Walter, raising a brow. "Are there pictures?"

Blaise snorted his tea out.

~*~

Quentin Margolis had suggested they meet at a Muggle café instead of coming into the M.C.G. office on Wednesday, which Hermione thought was an odd choice for a werewolf recluse. The North Forest Pack was a peaceful bunch, but apparently so peaceful that they had declined Remus's invitation to fight at the Battle of Hogwarts.

She and Draco popped in to an Apparition point, and walked the several blocks. The silence was... comfortable. But Hermione still hated it.

"I've been meaning to ask you," she began, and she saw Draco twitch his head to her, "what happened to Tiberius Ogden? I was very surprised to hear that the Wizengamot relations position was open."

"He declined."

Hermione looked up at him. His eyes were scanning the street as they stopped at a crosswalk.

"Declined? But I thought things were going so well. I mean to say, from the way Noelle was talking about it."

She remembered a tipsy pixie girl sloshing around the news that Draco was only schmoozing her to get to her father.

Draco was silent. The signal turned, and he stepped off the curb, placing his hand on her back to guide her. She warmed, but focused.

"What did he say when you had lunch with him and Noelle?"

"He canceled." Draco clenched his jaw. "He said he had no interest in the company."

Something was unsaid. Hermione studied him as he grabbed a door handle, and let her enter the café before him. She stopped in the doorway.

"Do you want me to write to him?"

He looked down at her, and his eyes ran over her face. "No, we'll find someone else Granger."

She frowned and stepped through. Draco had also hoped Ogden would invest, if she remembered correctly. What a huge help that would have been.... She turned to him. "What about Noelle? I think I hit it off with her. I could see when she's home next—"

"No." His voice was firm, and his eyes were hard. "Do not contact Noelle. Do you hear me, Granger?"

She searched his eyes, trying to figure it out. "Alright."

He swallowed and looked away from her, searching the café to see if Margolis was already set up at a table. Hermione frowned at her shoes – kitten heels, Pansy called them – and tried to think...

Draco and Noelle were out on a Thursday, and they were to sit down with Tiberius on Saturday. So in those two days, he had canceled. What had Noelle said to daddy?

Draco led them over to a couch area where she could just see a large bearded man. Margolis stood as they approached and he gave him a tight smile as they shook hands. After he greeted Hermione warmly, he introduced a second man she had not seen behind him on the couch.

"This is Mason," the gravelly voice announced.

Where Quentin was dark and warm, Mason was fair and cool. He did not stand when he was introduced and made no effort to shake Draco's hand or acknowledge him. He looked to be about thirty, although it was always hard to tell a werewolf's age.

"Can I get anyone anything? Coffee, Granger?" Draco said.

"Yes, thank you."

Quentin asked for a tea and thanked him. Mason looked Draco up and down and asked for a tea, and a ham sandwich, with a side salad with steak. Hermione had the distinct feeling that Draco was being tested.

To his credit, Draco didn't flinch. He nodded and went to the counter.

"How is young Teddy?" Quentin turned to her.

"Last I heard, he and his grandmother were visiting Ron Weasley in Ireland." Hermione smiled. Her eyes flickered to Mason, who was watching her lazily. "Mason, were you acquainted with Remus Lupin before he died?"

"I'd met him, yeah."

He said no more. And Hermione could hear Madame Michele's voice in her head regarding difficult guests.

"He was lovely. One of my favorite teachers at Hogwarts and a dear friend," she said. "I assume you are also a part of the North Forest Pack?"

"Yep."

Hermione looked at Quentin. He pressed his lips together and gave Hermione an apologetic look.

Draco returned with three teas and a coffee. Hermione suppressed a smile when she saw him juggling them without magic. He placed a plastic card with a number on it in the center of the table.

"Let's jump right in, shall we?" Quentin said, leaning forward on his elbows. Mason stayed reclined. Hermione reached into her bag to pull her presentation folder as Quentin continued, "Mr. Malfoy and I had a very brief meeting in December. So I do understand the policy changes and the steps your group will take. I told Mr. Malfoy I would think it over, and discuss with my pack—" he gestured to Mason, who was watching Draco – "and we would reconvene."

"Excellent," Hermione said, finding the page she needed. "I've drafted a prospective timeline for the case." She grabbed a timeline for each of them, and handed them out. "I can begin interviews with members of the North Forest Pack as early as February. My Associate Consultant and I can come out to the North Forest, spend an entire week or two out there so that your pack and their routine is not disturbed—"

Mason chuckled. Hermione looked to him, but when he said no more, she continued.

"Once we have testimonials from the North Forest Pack, I can begin reaching out to donors who would fund the case. As Mr. Malfoy said in his previous meeting with Mr. Margolis, the North Forest Pack would not be paying for the services of Malfoy Consulting Group, but a few representatives are welcome at any fundraising parties. Once we –"

"So you'll raise money for Malfoy's business, based on our interviews." Mason stared at Hermione. It wasn't a question.

"We'll be raising money for the case, based on your interviews." Hermione pursed her lips.

"And tell me, Hermione Granger," Mason said. "How much does it cost to get a court date with the Wizengamot?"

She blinked at him. "I believe it is a ten galleon filing fee."

"Fundraising parties for ten galleons? My, my. Your business must be further in the hole than I'd thought, Malfoy." Mason leveled his cool eyes on Draco. Draco returned his stare and sat forward.

"The fundraising would cover the costs of research, the trip to the North Forest, the salaries of the staff working tirelessly, accommodations for the pack if they choose to come into London for the case –"

"So, I give you an interview, I tell you how difficult life has been for me as a werewolf and how much I wished I was like the other girls and boys, and you give me a Ministry job? Is that how this works?" Mason said, steering the subject back to the policy. Hermione looked at Quentin, who was sipping his tea silently.

"No," Hermione said, feeling her face heat. "With the testimonials from the North Forest Pack, we will give you the right to earn a Ministry job, should you ever be interested in one." She felt her breath coming quicker. "Should any werewolf want a stable form of employment, this policy will disallow any form of discrimination. We will also be arguing for government sponsored scholarships to assist any cubs in their expenses while at Hogwarts, and the school will be required to have arrangements made at the full moon."

Mason held her glare. Quentin cleared his throat.

"I appreciate all you have done, Miss Granger, in preparing for this project, and all the work you plan to do for the werewolf community, but we will need to decline."

Hermione opened her mouth, brow furrowed at Quentin. A small sound puffed from her throat, before she could voice "Why?"

"It might be a bit easier for you, Miss Granger, having been in the spotlight all your life, but I don't believe in being bought out for publicity," Quentin said. He turned his harsh eyes on Draco.

Easier for her? Hermione frowned at him. She turned to Draco to find he'd gone very still, but held Quentin's eyes.

"That's very unfortunate, Mr. Margolis," Draco said. "Is there anything we can do to change your mind?"

"Can you bring back Albus Dumbledore?" Mason quipped. He smirked at Draco, like he knew he'd just hit him in a soft place. Hermione watched as Draco's nostrils flared but he did nothing else. Mason continued, "Or perhaps you can go back in time and put down Fenrir Greyback, instead of playing house with him for a year."

Draco's jaw clenched, and she felt like she could see the red in his vision.

Hermione turned to Mason. "You have no idea what you're talking about." The image of Greyback invading her bedroom swam before her. "Malfoy had no business with Fenrir Greyback that was not forced upon him—"

"I truly don't understand you, Hermione Granger," Mason hissed at her. "He fought against you in battle just two years ago and now you've thrown in your lot with him." He smirked. "The pay must be excellent at Malfoy Consulting Group."

Her blood was humming.

"If memory serves, Mason, you did not fight in my war. At least Malfoy had the decency to choose a side."

The conversation stilled. Mason's jaw clicked. She heard Draco take a slow breath beside her.

"You've severely misjudged Mr. Malfoy and myself," she said. "What I do here is not for publicity, it's because it's the right thing to do. When I find myself in a position to be of assistance to undervalued people, I do everything I can to help. It's not publicity."

"But it sure makes for an excellent photoshoot," Mason shot at her, then turned his eyes on Draco, "doesn't it, Malfoy?" He smirked. He fanned his hands out in front of his face, reading a headline. "What a team. The pure-blood and the Mudblood."

Her breath caught. And Draco sat forward. "Watch it," he growled, so low that Hermione wasn't sure which man was the werewolf.

"Alright. Let's not descend into dramatics," Quentin set his tea down. "Mason, are you quite done?"

"Oh, please, do stay." Hermione stood and grabbed her bag. "You have your salad and sandwich on the way," she hissed at him. She tossed the folder in her bag. "You know what, Quentin? I will continue on with this case because I care, not because I was paid to care. We will fight this injustice without you, and we will win, and we will celebrate, and you can thank Draco Malfoy when your children have equal rights as werewolves." She was too loud for a Muggle shop, she knew. "Come on, Malfoy."

She pivoted and stormed out.

She didn't wait. She continued down the street, heels clacking against the pavement. She was fuming.

They clearly had no intention of working with them and they still took the meeting. Hermione ignored the part of her brain that reminded her that Quentin may have been respectful by declining in person, because Mason had been so purposely disrespectful.

It might be a bit easier for you, Miss Granger, having been in the spotlight all your life, but I don't believe in being bought out for publicity.

Bought out? She huffed, feeling her hair fall out of its clips. She heard Draco's shoes behind her, as his long legs caught up.

They strode in silence, every crosswalk opening for them. She chanced a look to Draco's face at a corner, and saw him frowning at the pavement.

"I'm sorry," she said. He looked up at her. "For them. I'm sorry they don't see you the way I do."

She continued down the street to the Apparition point. After five paces, she felt him lag behind her. She stopped and turned to him. He glared at her coolly, and she frowned, recognizing this look from his Wizengamot hearing months and months ago.

"I don't need your pity, Granger."

She looked at him. His jaw was tight, his hands in fists at his hips.

"You don't have my pity," she said. "You have my respect."

She shook her head at him and turned, reaching the Apparition point first and leaving without him.

~*~

The werewolf lunch had soured her entire day. Walter tried to ask her how it went. She was confident that he would be the last person to ask her that question.

At four o'clock she finally just took a book off her shelf and began reading to quiet her mind. Not quite what she was paid for, but apparently she was paid too much anyway.

A knock on her open door and she looked up to see Wentworth smiling shyly. "Bad meeting?"

"The worst." She closed her book. "They couldn't just decline. They needed to decline while insulting my integrity." She looked to her window. "They thought the entire case was a publicity stunt."

"Ah," Wentworth grimaced. "Well, it would have been incredible publicity. 'Hermione Granger Frees the Werewolves.'"

That made her frown. "Don't you mean 'Malfoy Consulting Group Frees the Werewolves?'"

"Oh, no, no. It's all you." He grinned. She knew he was being quite kind but she disliked it after what Quentin and Mason had said. "I must admit, I had reservations about signing on with Draco Malfoy, but once I heard that you were on board, it really did sway me."

"Oh, that's so kind," she said. "So, you joined quite late in the game as well?"

"Not too late. Around early December."

She blinked at him. "Early January, you mean?"

"No, it was in the beginning of December. Around my wife's birthday."

She felt a cold weight settle against her chest. "So Draco told you in early December that I'd be joining M.C.G.?" She kept her face light.

"Yes, he said he understood any reservations I had, but here was what he wanted to do, and here was who had signed on to do it with." He smiled at her. "I'm sure you were the deciding factor for a lot of the people here, employees and clients."

She ran her tongue along her teeth to keep from speaking. She twitched her lips into a smile. "Well, thank you Wentworth. That's lovely to hear."

He nodded at her and left her alone.

She stood, buzzing. She paced to the bookshelf to put away her reading and went to shut the door so she could think.

Draco was on the floor, chatting with one of Mockridge's Associates.

How had he guessed she would sign on as soon as early December? Draco hadn't even brought up joining M.C.G. to her until December 31st. It hadn't even crossed her mind.

She watched him lean on the cubicle and roll his eyes at something, smiling.

But he brought by the werewolf portfolio earlier than that. In early December. He traded three books and a smile for a letter of recommendation and slid her a portfolio filled with his notes. Notes that swayed her, notes that piqued her curiosity...

Anyone can be seduced, Granger.

And suddenly she was on the Malfoy balcony again, in a white dress, watching as Draco leaned his long body against the railing and told her what it was she wanted to do with her life. He'd decided it all for her before she'd even thought of it herself.

He laughed at something one of the Associates said, and continued to his office, flipping through something. He felt her eyes on him and looked up at her, and nodded.

She stared back at him.

Quentin Margolis was right. Only it wasn't the money she had fallen for.