For some of my favorite people

READ (you should always read my A/Ns but definitely read this one)

This fic contains emotional manipulation via potion/dub con, though there won't be any explicit sex. It's M for the subject matter and premise. You can interpret this as Weasley Bashing, but I think it's too restrained to be actual BASHING... It shouldn't be more than a five chapters and MAYBE an epilogue. Slow-ish burn? Can you have a slow burn in five chapters?

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Because reality continues to ruin my life.

Draco lounged in the open door of Hermione's office waiting to be noticed. She had this ridiculous 'open-door' policy which tended to prevent her from getting her actual work done since she spent most of her energy bandaging the figurative booboos incompetent idiots brought her. Actually, he had seen her putting some sort of adhesive bandage on someone's papercut once… He couldn't decide on exactly how many levels the idea was ludicrous, but he had been able express at least five of them to her retreating and rapidly unraveling chignon once she'd sent the bandage recipient on their way.

She hadn't been particularly receptive to his feedback.

When she finally did admit her policy was idealistic, inefficient, and responsible for her alarming stress levels, he might consider admitting the open-door thing had its advantages. For example, it gave him the perfect opportunity to hunt down her hair's most accurate color descriptor without her notice.

In all his years of study, he'd only determined the color was too blonde to be brunette, too mahogany to be chestnut, and too coppery to glint like honey. In fact, he was fairly certain her hair actively changed colors to vex him.

"Lunchtime already?"

Her amused question jolted him from his musing about color. He adjusted the cuffs of his dress shirt to buy himself time for an appropriately disinterested and put upon response. "Well, contrary to what you may think, Granger, I don't make a hobby of lingering on your threshold for the aesthetics."

He caught her little smile as she bustled about her desk. "Did you get the fabric swatches I sent?" he asked, lounging deeper as she hunted through the parchment stacks consuming her office. Her wand was in her hair and her shoes were beneath the cloak tree so Draco couldn't guess what she was after.

"Yes," she retorted. "And, as I keep saying, I don't need curtains for a window I don't have." He heard a soft grunt and one of the stacks wobbled ominously.

"Well, perhaps curtains might finally encourage you to pursue a career with a decent office." She was wasting his sacred hour of being the focus of her attention. And he'd missed breakfast.

"I like my career."

He frowned, weighing the wisdom of antagonizing her further against the edge of annoyance in her voice. She usually lasted much longer before he got her to react. "May I help you find something?"

"Oh, don't be condescending. I have a system."

"I am aware." She sounded like she was hunting along the baseboards behind her desk. He refused to dwell on the image his brain provided. "And while I have the utmost respect for your system," he paused waiting for her snort before continuing with a smile, "I have to wonder at the power of this mystical item that it can defy both summoning charms and my dining schedule."

He dropped his eyes to his cuticles, so he wouldn't be caught looking amused or have his expression misinterpreted as smug. Her head popped up on his right. He detected her chagrin in his peripherals. Her expressiveness, even when she refused to react, was one of the few benefits of holding so plebian a position as "ministry grunt".

Her little purple bag emerged from a tottering heap of rolled up parchment on her filing cabinet and shot to her hand. He held her cloak for her since the door was already open (another reason her policy was stupid) and he enjoyed how flustered simple chivalry made her. The warmth of her skin tone made her blushes unique. Fascinating.

"You didn't win, so you have no reason to be that smug."

"Why, Miss Granger! Conversations are not competitions! You cannot win a conversation!"

"Draco Malfoy, you will not play innocent with me. I know you keep some kind of mental score when we argue." He gestured she precede him onto the lift.

"You're rather adamant," he murmured, aware of the press of other bodies fleeing to lunch.

"And you're a prat," she muttered back. He smirked because she couldn't see him.

"What a harsh accusation."

"That you aren't denying." The lift clattered to a halt, spilling the occupants into the packed lobby.

"I never contradict a lady." He kept close in the jostling masses trying to reach the floos. His hand hovered by her back, careful not to touch her, but also careful not to lose her.

"Except about curtains," Hermione concluded triumphantly, spinning to face him despite how it impeded the flow of humanity around them.

Malfoys are never unnerved by the proximity of beautiful women, but he nearly tripped over this one and the mere thought, not to mention the distinctly squishable woman herself, was unnerving. He snatched his hand back to his side. "That's not contradiction, that's bettering a lady's environment. Completely chivalrous. I thought you had 7 years of experience with the concept?"

She made her wrinkled nose disapproval face and turned away. "Just for that we're eating sushi."

He groaned because it would make her smirk. It was also a free opportunity to be dramatic and petulant without her poking him. Sushi wasn't completely terrible.

"Why would Muggles even eat raw food if they have cooking devices?"

"You eat steak tartare."

They neared the front of the queue for one of the huge black marble fireplaces. Time to wrap the conversation up. Their discussions tended to get emphatic and reporters enjoyed blowing things out of proportion any time they were caught 'discussing' in public. "That's different."

Her back stiffened, but she couldn't retort without holding up the line and causing a scene.

He awarded himself a point or ten for his brilliant timing as he watched her disappear in a swirl of green flames.

A minute or so later, he stepped through the floo to the Leaky Cauldron…

… and immediately wished he hadn't made her resort to sushi.

Hermione stood fidgeting as her sort of boyfriend asked about her lunch plans. If there was a thread of suspicion in the ginger git's tone, Draco pretended to ignore it. A year of probation was not something he wished to repeat any time soon. So, with a stern mental reminder about the media fallout for publicly hexing a member of the Golden Trio, he grit his teeth and sidled up to the happy couple.

"Finishing some shopping, Ronald?"

"Yes, not that it's any of your business. Would you excuse Mione and me for a moment? I need to review a few details about dinner tonight." Resentment bubbled along the edges of Draco's mind. Weasley sounded like he was investigating a murder not planning a romantic evening.

But Draco glanced down at Hermione, hoping, as he always did, for some indication that she didn't want him to go. She cast half a glance at him and gave an almost indiscernible, but none-the-less binding, little nod. He bared his teeth at the ginger,dismissing him with a glance until he noted the little crimson bag standing out sharply against the nondescript brown auror coat. "Thomsonicle's? Was there an anniversary note I forgot to send?"He kept his tone as affable as he could. Hermione started next to him. Weasley glowered and shoved the bag into a pocket with a stubborn glance away. Draco allowed the silence to be awkward for a moment before saying, "No? My mistake. Miss Granger, I'll be by the bar." He bowed as much as the casual setting allowed, smirked at Weasley, and strode off.

If Hermione hadn't been there, he would have ordered and then finished a bottle of Ogden's Finest. Thomsonicle's sold jewelry.

They specialized in rings.

Hopefully I will have more for you next week! I hardly ever write romance... Only the affection I bear for certain individuals prompted such a blatantly romantic endeavor... Tell me what you think so far... I want to know.