Mrs Malfoy, I Presume?

This was written for the ever so wonderful Dresupi, and originally only intended to be a drabble.

The prompt she gave me was "From Enemy To Lovers", so I ended up writing a full multi-chapter fic.

I do hope you enjoy it as much as she did!

Last but not least, many many thanks to all those who helped me write this story and make it an enjoyable read!

Chapter 1

Draco leaned against one of the many small standing tables in the Ministry atrium, watching the wizards and witches around him with a bored sigh as they listened to Minister Shacklebolt giving one of his long-winded speeches in honour of a Wizengamot member who decided to retire.

Blackwood was an old friend of his family, so his father had urged him from his cell in Azkaban to attend the event. However, he very much disliked social events at the Ministry—they were like a necessary evil for him to be able to get any business done in the wizarding world. The only reason he did attend the retirement party for Blackwood was that he had heard about Thursby being here as well, a business partner he was desperate to close a deal with.

Otherwise, he couldn't care less about the old man.

Draco let out another bored sigh before he had another sip of his drink, a decent tasting Firewhisky. He had been here for over an hour now and still hadn't seen Thursby anywhere to have a little chat; it was like the git was eluding him on purpose.

He had no patience for all those noveaux riches who had been climbing the social ladder ever since the War. They usually had no taste and no manners befitting their new social status.

Fucking parvenus, the whole lot.

But heading a company, he was required to socialise with them in order to be able to do any business. And right now, Thursby was the man he needed, as elusive as he was.

He emptied his tumbler, relishing the mild burn in the back of his throat as he swallowed the remaining Firewhisky. After placing the tumbler on the standing table, he turned around for a walk through the atrium, to exchange a few words with other friends of the family or business partners and finally have a chat with Thursby before he could leave the event.

However, he barely managed to avoid running into a mess of curls who had been standing straight behind him during Shacklebolt's speech. He knew only one person who had such an amount of gorgeous curls, and she was the bane of his life. "Damn it, Granger!"

"Malfoy! What are you even doing here?" Scowling, she firmly poked her index finger into his chest to keep him at a distance. "This is a Ministry event, and you don't work here–"

"Gladly so," he retorted in an annoyed hiss, pushing her hand away before she would leave a bruise. He was not at all intimidated by her glare, which was filled with the desire to burn him down. "But you forget that my family still holds a seat in the Wizengamot, and Blackwood happens to be an old friend of my family, but why the hell would you even care?"

"Because you almost ran me over perhaps? Or maybe just because I don't trust you?"

Fighting to keep his frustration under control, he leaned down to her level. "You're the one who makes my life impossibly hard with your goddamn regulations. You just want to see me fail, do you? Oh yes, it's one of your many pleasures in life. Tell me, how's your relationship with that redhead going?"

He had hit the right button because her glare intensified, the dark brown shade of her eyes turning into a dangerous black as she huffed at him. "None of your business!"

"Isn't he dating that Brown girl now?" he continued, his smirk growing as she huffed at him again. If he didn't feel drawn to her fire already, he'd still admit that she was gorgeous when she was all passionate and riled up over nothing.

"Stop it! My private life is not your concern–"

"Well, it's hard to miss since the Prophet loves to write about you and your lack of… you know. I'd advise your ex to be a tad more discreet about it." He was barely fast enough to catch her hand as she tried to slap him in response, grabbing her wrist tightly.

The touch of her skin sent tingles through his fingers, letting his heart beat faster. She had the softest skin of anyone he knew, and he would give his fortune just to find out how soft the rest of her skin and body were.

Not that he would ever admit it.

"Mr Malfoy!" a portly middle-aged woman shouted from a few feet away, waving at him with a polished smile as she came closer; just like other newly rich she wore too much jewellery to show off her new status. "I watched you and your wife, and it reminded me of my own marriage when I was younger… such passion! I have to say, you make such a lovely couple."

"I'm not his–"

"Mrs Thursby, what a pleasure to meet you here," Draco said, putting on his most polite smile as he indicated a bow with his head, tightening his hold on Hermione's wrist at the same time. She better keep quiet for a moment. "I've been trying to find your husband all evening."

"Yes, yes. He didn't feel so well, and the Healer said he should rest. His heart, you know?"

Draco nodded with feigned interest before he briefly turned over to Hermione, who was trying to wriggle her hand from his grip. His tense expression softened into a faint smile when she stopped and nodded. "Yes, my mother does have palpitations from time to time, forcing her to rest and cancel her schedule."

"A fine woman, your mother. I admire her grace and her beauty…" Mrs Thursby sighed and lifted her glass of champagne to her lips to have a sip. "Mr Malfoy, I know you and my husband are discussing a deal, and he was looking forward to meeting you here. He only ever speaks highly of you and your company. That's why I would like to invite you to our garden party next weekend, as an apology. Both you and your wife."

"Of course, Mrs Thursby. We'd love to come. Just send us an owl with the details."

Mrs Thursby's grin widened and she raised her glass. "Wonderful. I'll see you at the garden party, then. Now, I need to congratulate Mr Blackwood on his retirement. He's such a great man, and he has such a beautiful garden!"

Draco let out a deep sigh in relief as he watched Mrs Thursby walk away. Brushing a strand of hair out of his face, he turned towards Hermione, who was still standing next to him rubbing her wrist. "Thanks."

"Why didn't you explain that I'm not your wife? That I don't even like you that much?"

"Because I need that deal, okay?" he snapped at her. "Thursby would be one of our biggest clients. He is interested in my products because of their quality. You know that mine are the best when it comes to ingredients for anything ranging from potions to perfumes."

"You're a bloody opportunist, and I will not participate in your little charade just so you can get a deal with them!" After one last glare at him, she turned around to walk away, towards one of the exits, with the closest people jumping out of the way as she was still fuming.

"Granger, please!"

"Forget it, Malfoy! Hell will freeze over before I'm going to participate in your charade!"

It was futile to run after her, or he'd risk being hexed. Instead, he let out a frustrated growl before he made his way through the throngs of people in search of another drink. He absolutely needed one now to flush the irritation out of his system that was throbbing in his veins.

Merlin's seven balls, she was the most infuriating woman he knew, and the only who ever managed to get under his skin. If only she knew how intoxicating her fire and her passion were… and how she had managed to sneak into every goddamn part of his life.

And now he had to convince this fury of a woman to help him get that deal.

Just his luck!

..

Draco didn't waste time in his attempt to convince Hermione to play the part of his wife for one night in order to secure the deal. After getting home from the event, he had pulled a few strings to get as much information about her as he could.

He wouldn't go into this battle empty-handed, and he could offer her something that she couldn't refuse.

So, the very next day, he knocked at her door, mentally bracing himself for another battle of wits before he would even be allowed to get inside. She was a challenge, not in the slightest impressed by his name or fortune, nor his attitude.

As much as she was a thorn in his side, sent to make his life unbearably complicated, he actually enjoyed the thrill of being intellectually challenged by her. Every battle he fought with her over the smallest ingredients regulation that concerned his business left him with an odd sense of satisfaction.

And they fought many battles.

After a second, more impatient knock, the door finally opened, only to reveal Hermione in a set of comfy lounge clothes, her hair bound back in a lazy bun. Her face immediately hardened into a disapproving scowl as soon as she recognised him.

"Making house calls now? Not enough that you insist on being an annoying git who keeps bursting into my office to disparage my work?"

"Hello, Granger. Yes, I'm fine. And yes, I'd like to come inside."

She scoffed at him, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. "As if I'd let you in..."

"You need to learn proper etiquette; it would benefit your social career, you know?" His hands in his coat pockets, he shrugged; he couldn't help but smirk at her displayed irritation. "However, I'm not here to discuss your lack of etiquette… I have a proposition—call it a deal, if you want."

"I told you that Hell would freeze over before I'd help you, Malfoy."

For a second, Draco was mesmerised by her lips that were slightly pursed in a pout, glistening with what he guessed was lip gloss. "I'm sure that could be arranged…"

"Pff."

He covered his momentary distraction with a brief sigh and another smirk. "I'm sure you will find it hard to say no to what I have to offer–"

"And what would that be?" Still slightly pouting, she narrowed her eyes at him, a glint of disapproval in her eyes. "You know full well that you can't buy me."

He chuckled, shrugging again in disbelief. "You think I'm trying to buy you? Seriously, Granger. I'm a businessman; I make deals. But I would much prefer to discuss the details inside… I'm pretty sure your neighbours will start to wonder about the handsome man on your doorstep. You know how the press is these days."

"You and handsome?" She snorted at his words, but then she stepped aside to let him inside. "Don't dare say anything about my place, or your deal is over before you know it."

Draco felt like he had won the first battle and took a moment to have a look around while she motioned him towards the living room. To his surprise, the whole place had a comfortable feel to it, cosy even; he had thought her place would be covered in books, but instead, she had an impressive shelf covering a whole wall, filled with every kind of book."It's… It's nice, really."

"Thanks." Her words were almost a whisper as she remained at the door, watching him. "Just make sure you don't sit in Crookshanks' favourite spot."

He turned to her with an earnestly surprised expression, his eyebrow raised slightly. "You still have that orange furball? He must be ancient by now."

She nodded, wrapping her cardigan a little tighter around her waist. "Kneazles can grow old…"

"The armchair is safe to sit on? I mean…"

With another nod, she finally entered the room to take her seat on the two-seater sofa, moving a pillow to the other side. "You said you had a proposition to make? I'm not saying that I'll agree, but now I want to hear what you have to offer."

Still in his coat, he sat down in the armchair, immediately leaning forward, placing his elbows on his knees. "You remember that Mrs Thursby thought you were my wife. I'm sorry for not explaining the situation… In my defence, there are rumours that they would like to introduce me to their daughter, and I would much rather avoid that."

"Well, rumours also are that you can't resist any woman intent on flirting with you."

His smile briefly widened into a grin at her response. "Well, those are just rumours. And before you say something, you are more than welcome to ask my servants about my activities."

"Just say house-elves," she said, a faint smile now on her lips as she curled up her legs. "Everyone knows you still employ them."

"Anyway… I do need that deal with the Thursby company to ensure the future of my own. I don't know whether you've ever done any research, but I'd like to keep those people—my people employed." He rubbed his hands as he studied her for a breath or two. "And with a charming wife at my side, I might actually get it."

"Charming? Wouldn't someone like one of the Greengrass sisters be better suited to be a rich wife?"

"Well, Daphne married a French wizard, and Astoria just announced her pregnancy. So, no. Plus, Mrs Thursby thought you were charming, and despite our differences, I'd like to agree."

She placed her head in her hand, shaking it slightly in amusement. "It's almost cute how sugary sweet you can be now that you need something from me."

Draco bit his tongue and instead just shrugged, even adding a wink. "Well, you never really gave me a chance before…"

"What do you offer in return? Not that I have any intent to say yes anyway."

"I'll fund one of your charity projects, for example the one supporting a reform of werewolf rights. And I would do so in public because if a Malfoy endorses a charity, many more people will show their support." As soon as he had made the offer, he could see that brain of hers work out the opportunity he offered. She couldn't possibly say no; it had to be too tempting.

"Just money?" she asked, eyeing him sceptically. "Or would you also support the reform in the Wizengamot? You said that your family still holds a seat there…"

"We do, yes." He leaned back, placing his arms on the armrests, tracing the soft fabric with his fingers. "I might be persuaded to put in a good word, based on how well the garden party goes. You'll get the financial funding anyway."

"Ugh. Dammit." She sighed and rubbed her face. "Hypothetically, playing your wife at that party, what would that require? Because I'm not into getting too physical with you…"

He had her.

Satisfied with his victory, Draco couldn't help but grin broadly. "The Thursbys usually have an orchestra and a small dance floor, so maybe one or two dances, and the occasional hand holding and my hand on your back. I'll make sure to keep it away from the dangerous zones. Other than that, you're free to mingle and enjoy the evening. I might add a bonus if you manage to say nice things about me and my company..."

"Ugh, fuck it. Harry is going to kill me," she said with a groan, leaning back with her arms crossed once more. "Fine, I'll play your charming wife, but all expenses are on you: dress, jewellery, hair, and whatsoever–"

"No problem. I'll send you a list of addresses, just drop–"

"And you will fund my werewolf law reform with a substantial sum, plus—and I'm not going to budge on that!—support it in the Wizengamot when it's up for the vote. All of it or you can forget it."

"You're driving a hard bargain," he replied, trying to keep that small flutter in his stomach under control. "Fine. I agree. A substantial sum and support in the Wizengamot when it's up for the vote. I just hope you know your classic dance steps."

"You'll see," she replied with a growing smirk that brightened her face with an almost mischievous spark. "I do know a few things."

Ignoring the surge of fluttering in his stomach, he rose to his feet and brushed off his coat. "I'll send you an owl with all the details and the addresses. If your friends have a problem with our arrangement, feel free to send them my way…"

"Oh, I will." She got up as well to show him out, wrapping her cardigan once more around her waist. "I'm sure you'll find a way to explain how we avoided the press knowing about our… you know… wedding. Because me, their Golden Girl, marrying a former Death Eater would definitely make the first page, pictures and candids included."

"Not a huge fan of those big weddings where half the wizarding world is invited. We could have eloped and only our closest friends know, maybe," he said once they reached the door. It was the only detail he hadn't thought of before if he was honest.

"I actually like that, you know? A small wedding with just the closest friends and parents attending. But I don't know if I'm ever going to marry…"

"Same." With one last smile towards her, he stepped outside while she held the door open. "See you on Saturday."

..

Saturday evening, Draco waited nervously at his place for Hermione to finally show up. He was pacing up and down in front of the fireplace, repeatedly checking his fob to make sure she wasn't late, as there were a few details they still needed to discuss in order to pass as a married couple in front of Thursby.

In addition, he didn't know what she was going to look like, although she had racked up quite a bill using his name in the shops. However, he was sure that it would be worth every expense. And maybe, just maybe, she would dislike him a little less afterwards.

He was about to turn around for another round in front of the fireplace when he heard a knock on the door, to his complete surprise. With a sigh, he went for the door to answer, but his house-elf was faster; the creature bowed with reverence as it let Hermione enter.

Even covered in a black wizarding-style robe, Hermione was a sight to behold. Astonished, Draco stopped mid-step to simply gaze at her and take her in and keep himself from gaping too much. Her hair was tamed into a beautiful cascade of curls, framing her gorgeous face. Underneath the black robe, he could glimpse a long flowing dress in a dark burgundy red which was absolutely perfect for her warm olive skin tone.

"Hello," he finally managed to say with a soft smile, coming closer to greet her with his hand held out. "I have to say I didn't know what to expect, but this is… fantastic."

"Thanks." With blushing cheeks, she did a slow turn-around as she unbuttoned the robe. Facing him again, she pulled it open to reveal the rest of the dress, and it looked perfect on her—a classic flowing cut with a high cleavage and long sleeves—and Merlin help him—accentuating her figure in all the right places.

"I see… Mrs Selkins is worth every single Sickle."

"Wait until you see the back," she said with a wink as she rearranged her robe. "But yes, I have to admit, I did have fun visiting all those places and being treated like a princess as soon as I mentioned your name. I could get used to it."

"Better not," he replied with a chuckle. With a deep breath, he tried to push the growing adoration for her back down. After all, they only had a truce until their deal was over and done; there was no need to make it more complicated. "Now, you've read the additional notes I've sent you?"

"All memorised. Quiz me, if you don't believe me." She finally accepted his hand and let him lead her into the living room, as they would use the Floo to reach Thursby's place.

"Granger, I would never doubt your memory. After all, you tend to remember every single thing I ever said and use it against me more often than I like." He dared a look at her from the side, noticing how little make-up she actually wore; it only added to her beauty. Silently, he thanked Merlin for the opportunity to get to work with her at such a close level.

"Well, to return the compliment, I do sort of envy your ability to recall all those numbers correctly…"

Now it was Draco's turn to blush, even though it was only a faint pink colouring his cheeks. "Comes with the job, I guess."

"Yeah…" Reaching the fireplace, she turned around to face him with a more earnest, almost professional expression. "What do I have to expect? Are any of your friends there? Or anyone else who might know both of us?"

He shook his head before he reached for the porcelain pot containing the Floo powder to hold it up for her. "Ready to play Lady Malfoy?"

With a confused expression, she grabbed a handful of the powder. "I thought that is your mother's title? Although, all those wizarding titles and ranks are just as confusing as Muggle nobility, to be honest…"

"Yes, it is a complicated matter, and my mother has a whole shelf on it in her residence. But, if you were married to me for real, it would be your title as well. I'm sure I could ask my mother to borrow you some books on it if you want to know more." Holding a handful of Floo Powder in his hand as well, he returned the porcelain pot to its spot. For a moment, just before she stepped into the fireplace, he wished they weren't just discussing it hypothetically, that he could present her as his real wife instead of playing a game to get a deal.

He was pulled from his musings as she threw the powder and clearly called out the Thursby residence as her destination; he smiled when he saw her wave at him just before she disappeared into the flames.

Seconds later, he joined her on the other side, immediately greeted by a human servant ready to take his robes that had covered his own choice of evening wear until now—a tailored dress suit inspired by Muggle fashion, in a classic black with a white buttoned shirt and a dark green cummerbund.

"Oh, Draco, dear, there you are!" Hermione waved at him from next to the garden entrance, already cornered by Mrs Thursby who was wearing a dress with far too many layers, exaggerating her portly figure. Yet, hearing Hermione using his first name was the thing that let a warm shiver run down his spine—he was so used to her hissing his last name with slight disdain.

After a deep breath, he put on his most polished smile and joined the women, reaching for the hand Hermione held out for him, just as he bowed his head towards the elder woman. "Mrs Thursby, as always, you look magnificent…"

Next to him, Hermione barely held back a giggle but managed to hide it behind a polite smile when he squeezed her hand. "The necklace is a family heirloom, I presume?"

With a proud smile, Mrs Thursby reached for the heavy necklace decorating her cleavage, brushing her thumb over several of the blue jewels. "Oh, indeed, Mrs Malfoy! I inherited it from my grandmother, and I only wear it on special occasions… But now, let me introduce you to the other guests."

Following their lady host, Draco finally discovered the back of her dress as he gently placed his hand just below her shoulders, only to be surprised to touch her bare skin. He barely managed to contain a gasp when he realised that it was cut low, revealing more of her wonderful form down to just above the small of her back.

Damn, gorgeous was an understatement.