Hermione's heels clicked against the marble floor tiles. She watched the curved tips of the black suede heels as they carried her across the floor. Ron had always joked that she never knew how to walk in them. In that moment, her heart ached to bicker with her old friend over how little attention he really paid to his surroundings, including her. Such bicker some arguments had sent them in their separate ways: her to find her parents and Ron back to Lavender Brown. She'd received a notice of their engagement shortly before the Ministry enacted their laws for Procuration Contracts. That had been during fourth years service as a Curse-breaker. She'd been so involved in her work she'd forgotten to RSVP. Harry and Ginny had stopped by her office at the Ministry to check on her. Everyone had become concerned with her long hours at work and the decreasing social outings she made. That had been the last time she'd seen either Harry or Ginny. After the Procuration legislature was passed, Harry retired with his family deep in the countryside. Ron's wedding was called off, but she'd never reached out to learn what had come of Ron and Lavender. She'd been too busy. It wasn't until the floor dropped from under her feet that she'd already fallen out of touch with her old friends.

All this she reflected on as she made her way through the Malfoy Manor. She'd thought of reaching out to Ron or harry when she'd lost her position at the Ministry, but she was too prideful. Harry had his family to take care of, and Ron had trouble taking care of himself even before he had Lavender to deal with. Once again, she was stuck with the desire to owl Harry and explain the proper mess she'd gotten herself in. But she refrained, and she thought told herself that she would only do so once she was absolutely sure that help herself was beyond own abilities.

Hermione came to a stop in front of the door to Draco's drawing room where Gustavus had instructed her to wait. She was in someone else's house, in someone else's clothes, and yet she felt a surge of confidence. Help wasn't beyond her abilities, yet.

A moment passed with her basking in self worth. Another moment passed, and the room was growing too quiet. After another moment he fingers began a nervous and rapid tap against her bare thigh. For a second, the tapping stopped, only long enough for her fingers to find the seam of her dress and pull it lower on her leg. The tapping then resumed. Gustavus had assured her that he would only need a moment to speak to Draco before calling her into the room. It was taking too long. The dress was too short, and Gustavus was taking too long.

The doorknob turned, and the door Hermione was standing in front of was pulled open.

-o-o-

Gustavus frowned when he strolled into Draco's drawing room only to find the master of the house with an ever present glass of firewhisky in hand. Draco's fondness for alcohol was a recent development of character, one that neither Gustavus nor Draco's parents approved of. After Draco had all but isolated himself from his parents, Narcissa and Lucius had gone him asking that he keep them informed on Draco's actions. Gustavus had told himself that spying on Draco was payback for the time Draco had nearly given Emilie a heart attack by trying to convince her that Gustavus has been killed in a tragic hair styling fire when he stayed late at work one night. Narcissa would be upset to hear the Draco's little habit was getting worse.

"Is it an addiction?" Gustavus asked, approaching Draco.

Draco didn't look up from his glass. "More like a daily indulgence."

"One can never be too careful."

Draco frowned, his gaze unmoving. "I didn't hire you to vex me, Gustavus."

"No, you befriended me for that."

With a sigh, the glass was placed down on a nearby table, and Draco turned to Gustavus. "What has come of Granger?"

"Who?"

"Blast it. Hermione, I meant Hermione." Draco stood as he cursed, feeling the occasion demanded physical rousing as well as emotional. "I do hope she sent a few good hexes your way when you showed her one of the dresses she's meant to wear."

"That seems entirely unlike the well mannered witch I have become acquainted with." Gustavus settled into a chair with an indifferent air as he said this.

It was Draco who was left to pace the floorboards in front of him. "She has you fooled then, too. You cannot begin to fathom the headache that witch is capable of causing a man."

Gustavus was shaking his head. "If you harbor such animosity - which I do believe is mutual between the two of you - against Hermione, why go through with yet another ridiculous Contract?"

Draco whirled on his friend, "Have you not met the monster I've isolated to the East Wing? I need to be rid myself of Pansy before she be rids me of my sanity. Therefore I need to sign another Contract. Granger just happened to fall right into my plan, which happened to remind me at the time that I have an old score to settle with her."

"All this, to settle an old score? I hope you find it all to be worth it in the end."

"How much did she loathe the makeover?" Draco stopped pacing to question him..

"Every step was its own struggle."

"Than it was worth it. Send her in."

Gustavus pulled his wand from his pocket and motioned it toward the door. The doorknob turned and the door silently opened, unveiling his latest masterpiece. Draco had his back turned as he was reaching for the decanter to pour more firewhiskey into his glass. He seemed in no apparent rush to see what change could have come of Miss. Granger. Hermoine for one was thankful to see Draco turned away from her. Her fingers had frozen mid-tap on her thigh. She met Gustavus eye and moved her hand to once more discretely pull the seam of the dress further down her leg. Gustavus smiled at her and gave her a supportive nod, meaning she should enter the room now instead of waiting for the door to close and hide her once again.

Draco smirked at the sound of heels on the wooden floor. He placed the glass cork back on top of the decanter and turned with a ready insult resting on his tongue for the girl he doubted had ever worn heels in her life. His eyes caught hers just as she was turning her attention back to him, and his insult was swallowed along with his doubts.

Hermione knew how she looked. Gustavus has dressed her in a simple sleeveless, black dress that fell midway down her thighs - which had been in itself a compromise. Her shoes were multi-colored heels adorned with a thin ankle strap to secure her footing. Now when she walked, she walked with confidence. She had seen herself in the mirror and was caught staring at her own reflection. She knew how her bare legs looked, pale and thin, and how her waist cinched in all too much from her already sparse hips. She knew how her body looked to her, but seeing herself in the way Gustavus had dressed her allowed her to see just how others saw her body. Her shoulders were slim, and her waist followed the feminine curve that sloped over her hips. Her legs looked longer, not skinny but lean. The shock of her pale skin had been tamed to appear elegant and silky. The girl she was now was still Hermione Granger, but not one she'd ever had the fortune of meeting before.

Draco was processing similar thoughts in his head. He knew women - their bodies, their tendencies, their fears -, and he'd known Granger most of his life. This was the woman everyone thought in the back of their minds that Hermione Granger had the potential to be.

Hermione saw the way Draco was looking at her, and her eyes narrowed into the annoyed expression she'd perfected on Draco at Hogwarts. Draco sighed, "Top marks on the makeover, Gustavus, though it is quite a change from your normal job." He began to circle around Granger, taking her in from top hair to bottom toe. Her noticeable discomfort satisfied him immensely. "Too bad you couldn't polish off her manners as well."

Gustavus shook his head in good humor, while Hermione seethed. He tapped his wand against his wrist to check the time. Four glowing numbers appeared on his skin, and the result caused Gustavus to look rather anxious. He turned to Draco, "If that's all, I have a dinner date to keep with Emilie tonight that I simply cannot be late for."

Draco excused him from the room, much to Hermione's growing dread. Gustavus, for his part, exchanged the pleasantries of a "Farewell, I'm sure I will be seeing you both later" as he passed from the room, and the door settled shut with a deep thud behind him.

Hermione whirled around to face Draco, who was standing behind her. "Aren't you a hypocrite to comment on my manners?"

Draco smirked, "See if you knew proper manners, you'd know your place is not to question me."

Hermione fumed and stepped closer to the infuriating wizard. The stress of the makeover had frayed on her nerves. Every pigment placed on her face, fabric chosen to adorn her body, and shoe to protect her foot had been selected by Draco's standards. Now her mannerisms were to be picked over in much the same fashion? "My place! My place is in a bookshop on North Side, Diagon Alley, where I was perfectly content with my life and my 'unpolished manners.'"

Draco placed his glass back down on the table near him. "It's become obvious to me that I will need to set aside some day of this week to schedule you an etiquette coach."

"You will do no such thing, you unfathomable man." If Hermione was to be subjected to another day of poking and prodding at the hands of Draco Malfoy, she would much prefer spending a year in Azkaban for turning herself in to the Ministry in opposition of Procuration Contracts. She reached for her wand, which she'd asked Gustavus to hold onto for her and had left on the table adjacent to Draco's glass. Draco saw what she was doing and grabbed her wand before she could. The dynamic between the witch and wizard immediately shifted to more dangerous grounds.

"Give me my wand, Malfoy," Hermione's tone was careful. She didn't like to be defenseless especially not against him. The thought spurred it's own response in her body, and she could feel the disguising spell over her inner forearm start to itch as she recalled what lay under it.

"Come and get it, Granger," Draco challenged. He saw her now differently than before. She looked much the same as she did years ago at Hogwarts right before Weasley or Potter would try to reign her back from attacking him. She looked much the same, but he felt so much more different than the boy he had been. She used to be a challenge to defeat, to prove that he was better than her. Now he saw the challenge anew in her flushed face, but he felt that it meant something else to him. This time he wanted to let her win so he could see the victory on her face and feel the blood pumping fast through her heart, and then he would take that all for himself. Her win would become his win.

Her eyes met his, and an almost nostalgic anger passed over her. She lunged for her wand, and Draco loosened his muscles for when she collided with him. He held her wand farther behind him so she would overextend herself to reach for it. He played her.

The second Hermione collided with Draco, she knew he was no longer playing her game. She didn't know what he was playing at, but it wasn't what it used to be. Nonetheless he had her wand. She angrily grabbed over his shoulder to try and get at it, but his reach was longer than hers. Her heart was starting to race with fear; she needed her wand from him. This time she leapt for it. Her fingers wrapped around the familiar embellished vine wood, and she was suspended in air. She wasn't falling. Draco had an arm wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her against his chest. When she turned her head she was eye level with him, and he was smirking.

"Avi-" She began to mutter the incantation that summoned the same birds she'd plagued Ron with. Draco's arm disappeared from around her, and she dropped to the her feet on floor. Hermione inhaled sharply in shock, interrupting her own curse. Before she had a moment even to gather her wits, Draco captured her chin between his thumb and bent index finger and tilted her head back as his lips descended upon hers.