Hermione entered her office on Friday with an entire day's work to make up along with the many months' worth that her predecessor left like a gleaming pile of headaches for her to dive in to, per the job description.

None of it mattered. She savored the smell of fresh ink wells as she lined them neatly on her desk. Fresh parchment unfurled as her quill started to scratch through memos to employees beneath her. It was going to be good. By Merlin, she'd force it to be.

One employee was noted as behaving inappropriately toward a Muggle parent after responding to an accidental use of magic by a Muggleborn.

Gary was brought to her office with an attitude not fit of his position.

"They're just Muggles. It's not like they'll remember," he stated. His apparent reasoning for the encounter being that since they had to Obliviate the Muggle's memory, the treatment didn't matter. "I made sure I covered our ass."

Hermione crossed her legs. The audacity of her inferiors was the result of years under Dokas' bigoted leadership. It stood to reason that he was the reason no women were in highly ranked positions either.

"Our asses are hardly covered," she said in the firmest voice she could manage. "This is wild abuse of your position, not to mention discomfort to your coworkers! It is not a situation to scoff at."

The man stood in dignified air with a chin still raised high above her own. "That newbie isn't used to what it's like dealing with them.'

"Them?" The anger prickled her skin. "Clarify that for me."

"I mean no offence. I know you're one of them, but those Muggles are not normal. They are primitive beings. Sometimes they require the reminder," he said with raised hands.

As if any of his statement was an indication of remorse. It was more a confession of his own biased view.

She jotted down notes of the interaction as they progressed. It was very clear that he did not deny the encounter. "Okay, Mr. Bedard. Having completed the interview, you should expect a summons from the Wizengamot sometime next week. Have a good day."

The man stood taken aback. "You're reporting this? Over a silly display of magic."

"Magic meant to intimidate a Muggle into compliance. It is gross negligence and I am required to report all findings to my own superiors for further investigation," she replies in the bland tone of rehearsed lines she knew by heart.

"Dokas never cared. So long as the job was done, we were left to our business." He was clearly not pleased. "You'd do much better here if you just go along with how things are. These guys aren't used to being told what to do by a woman. Even if you are the Golden Girl. We have a way of doing things around here."

He was menacing as he leaned over her desk toward her face. A stern sneer chased away his curved lip to a horrid tension.

Hermione mirrored back her own threatening glare. "You'd do well to remember with whom you speak. I am within my power to remove you from your post and assign you to another department, or even fire you for this very incidence. I'd check yourself before the next time you come in here. That'll be all."

She left him to his leave. When it didn't happen quick enough, her wand swung open her door and forced her assistant to the doorway. He greeted her stiffly, not liking the disturbance in his boring day of crosswords and reading Witch Weekly.

"Right this way, Gary."

The man grumbled his anger. "She's got another thing coming if she thinks I'm going to listen to anything she's got to say."

Her assistant rolled his eyes and shooed the man away.

Paperwork called Hermione's attention back to the stacks of paper. She fingered the next envelope on the pile with a sigh. It would never be done at the rate she went.

Dokas was a royal bastard for what he'd done to the department.

She was ignorant of the entire world until the shuffling of feet outside the door caught her attention. The clock showed strict noon. Lunch break. Her appetite was suppressed by the amount of work she still needed to proceed with, already set on staying late within the night to make a dent.

It was her second set of follow up requests when a knock at her office stirred her.

"Come in," she called out.

A visit from Gary was surely warranted once he'd calmed down from his superior ego. She guessed it was his walk of shame back to the boss' office to beg for forgiveness. Skirt smoothed, hair tamed back behind her shoulders with a satisfied smile on her face.

Oh, she was going to enjoy it.

"Hey there, girl." Blaise entered the room in a creamy tan suit, white shirt and silver tie that hanged freely down by his belt buckle. "Thought you could use a friend for lunch."

She gasped with surprise. "Blaise? What on Earth are you doing at the Ministry?"

It was relief to see his teasing smile in the depressing air of her office.

"You know the Ministry can't keep to themselves. I've always got to come and quench their curiosity with our work," he stated. The false sense of irritation failed on Hermione. The dark brown of his eyes lifted as he beheld his friend behind her overworked desk. "Got time for lunch?"

"Not usually, but I'm extremely suggestable today."

Blaise summoned a basket of sandwiches and crisps. It splayed out across her desk on pristine china of painted elephants and dancing monkeys. Although she lifted a brow at the un-modern choice of flatware, her mouth remained silent.

Lunch with another sounded better than any more time alone. Without Ginny in the flat to fill the void, vulnerability roared through the courage. She didn't want to be anymore lonely.

Blaise snorted as she tucked in to the lunch. "You should consider work in the private sector. Wouldn't be squeezed into this sorry excuse for an office."

"It is tempting, given the state of this department," she answered.

The bag of crisps crinkled as she handled the plastic like a screeching child. The harder she tried to open it, the more the horrid noise echoed through the room. She murmured a spell and the bag burst open.

Saltiness of the crisp greeted her tongue in delirious pleasure. One little splurge.

"You should consider it." Bits of shredded lettuce fell out of his stuffed sandwich. He grimaced but continued eating. His napkin levitated on its own, collecting each piece of crisp lettuce and vanished the evidence with a soft crack. "They have some really great stuff out there."

The smoked roast beef burst with heavenly flavor. Hermione forced her eyes to remained forward and not roll back in pleasure at the sheer bliss that the meat gave. She knew Blaise came from money. His lunch was complete proof. Such elegant meat for a simple lunch was a waste on her. It was meant for lovely dinners of Ministry higher ups, not lowly department heads in complete chaos.

Meals were few and far between for Hermione. Ginny's absence forced a diet of easy selections with little effort, since so much preparation for only herself didn't sit well in her stomach. Without her best friend and sister, everything felt a splurge.

Hermione shrugged. "I joined the Ministry to help rebuild. War ruined so much, lost so much stability for everyone. I like it here, too. They help people. That's the main priority here, to be of service. It's just all the other stuff that comes with the job that isn't to my liking."

"The Ministry doesn't help as much as they think they do. All the backroom action that happens in this place? People in power will always control their puppets in these offices. Nothing changes. Not with Voldemort. Not now."

There was the fact that he was a Slytherin that convinced Hermione to consider his words as truths. Despite how much she detested the cliques that ran the Ministry, it didn't seem corrupt. All governments ruled like that. Wealthy elites weaseled their way to power whether the masses knew it or not.

"Connection is currency," she agreed.

A sparkle lit the corners of his eyes. "Precisely."

"Speaking of connection, do you somebody in your life? A betrothed perhaps? I know you Purebloods love that kind of thing."

Mouth full of bread, Blaise's chuckle was delayed. His hands rose in the air. "That's a good one. Can you imagine me, Blaise, lord of Pureblood tradition? Merlin, no. I've got a few that I see."

Hermione raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Only a few? A bit behind on your monthly quota?"

A split moment of unguarded emotion crossed his face twisted her confidence. Had she just insulted him? Slytherins insulted so easily with very little understanding of the boundaries they set. Malfoy was one with lines all over in a pattern that looked a maze with no end. But Blaise Zabini seemed more relaxed than that.

Hermione chastised herself for feeling so comfortable to tease. They weren't that good of friends. She opened her mouth to apologize, but he beat her too it with unexpected mirth.

"You know, never thought I'd say this about the Know-It-All. You're actually pretty funny. Shame we didn't know each other at Hogwarts," he stated just as plain as day. It was innocent enough, but it struck Hermione as surprising. She doubted even Draco Malfoy would believe that. "That mouth would have made you a fitting Slytherin."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"Why not? You can take on Malfoy any day of the week. And he's about as Slytherin as they come."

Hermione snorted. "I think my feelings on blood purity and equal rights for magical creatures might have sullied my reputation as a Slytherin. Oh, yeah. And I'm a Muggleborn. Can you imagine Professor Snape rolling out the red carpet for the likes of me?"

That made Blaise roll his eyes.

"It is no secret that Snape had a thing about Gryffindor. Plus, you beat out his own house for highest marks in class. Being a stuffy Know-It-All didn't help much. Snape had an ego the size of a dragon and didn't like anyone knowing just as much as him."

The war exposed so much more about Severus Snape that she ever learned in her time at Hogwarts, possibly because the man kept himself locked tight as a vault. There was the odd similarity between Professor Snape and Malfoy.

Blaise lowered the remains of his sandwich to his plate. The charmed napkin flew over and disposed of the remnants away quickly. He raised a handkerchief to pat his thick brown lips. He spent another minute as he adjusted his suit, straightened his already straight tie and touched his hair.

He glanced up at her, smirked at her dedicated attention. A thread of wild assumptions caught wind in her mind. She looked away quickly, blushing fiercely.

Unable to contain his smile, Blaise lifted his wand. A simple tap to the woven basket lid.

The picnic basket produced two small tea cakes, filled with raspberries and cream. It was one of the most heavenly things Hermione had ever tasted. She savored each bite much to Blaise's amusement. They were prepared by elves at the Manor, which made the bite turn to dust in her mouth.

"Malfoy Manor?" She dropped the fork to her desk.

The rest of the meal didn't taste so well. She pushed the plate away with the sudden loss of appetite. Blaise's eyes watched the china plate slide close to him with unfinished food atop.

He swallowed his bite. "Is there something wrong?"

A sweat came to her hands like a flood. She rubbed them down the length of her skirt, trying to rid herself of the sweltering feeling that started to boil through her insides as vomit rested just at the nape of her throat, ready to burst.

She tried to gain control with some deep breaths, but even then, it wasn't working.

"No. Of course not. My eyes must've been bigger than my stomach," she supplied. Her tone sounded stilted. Such a viable lie.

It was obvious that Blaise's suspicions were raised, but he kept his mouth clamped around his cake. He stared at his companion with sharp examination as she did her best to avoid it.

Malfoy Manor. One of the worst places she'd ever been in her life where Bellatrix Lestrange, Malfoy's deranged aunt, tortured her to near exhaustion. It was terrifying to be at the witch's mercy. However, what rang in her ears wasn't the sound of her own screams as they echoed throughout the empty manor house.

His voice. It was his voice as he screamed her name in what little attempt to save her there was. Over and over he screamed her name, begged to be in her place. The bars of the dungeon rattled as he thrashed against them with all his might.

Just the thought of him trying to the threat of death to save her scratched down the surface of her heart like a bleeding, gushing wound. His memory, his valor. He never stopped trying.

Even after they escaped Malfoy Manor, he kept close to her side. He stared at her wound, gently kissing over the letters that Hermione now bared like an awful reminder of all she'd lost.

Hermione snapped at attention when Blaise cleared his throat, her reverie broken.

Plates and cutlery flew back into their places in the basket. They clinked together slightly. She gave a sad smile. It'd been a nice time with a friend, especially since he came to her and actually brought the food. She'd gone and ruined it by being so consumed with herself.

She grabbed hold of his hand. "Thanks, Blaise. This was nice. I can't remember the last time I ate lunch at work."

Her friendly squeeze was met back with another. "You should. It can make the days not seem so bad."

He flashed a knowing look that seeped into her body.

"You always know what to say?" She teased.

"Most of the time."

Hermione laughed. "So Slytherin." She paused and then asked, "Do you want to come over tonight and watch that movie? I still think it'll help you with your mom."

He winced at the very mention of anything werewolf or mate related, but he agreed to come over after work as long as she agreed to eat supper. Ginny's absence meant she usually survived off tea and bits of veggies left in their fridge. But another to cook for let her reinvigorated to get back to the kitchen.

She set out to work on a meal as soon as she got home, not even bothering to change out of her work attire including her pumps.

She'd stopped at a local market on the way home for the ingredients and set to work making a worthy pasta that an Italian would eat. It was difficult to make the homemade noodles. Her hands cramped by the end of the entire process. She happily threw them into a boiling pot of salted water and set about finishing the rest of her dish when the Floo turned to green flame and a being stepped through.

"You're early," she called from the stovetop. She pinched her noodles to check their progress. "I hope you aren't an expert on pasta because it might be a disappointing evening for us if so."

She exited the kitchen and audibly gasped as it was not Blaise Zabini in the room, but Draco Malfoy.

He was dressed in casual slacks and a pale blue shirt, buttoned up minus one single button at the top that was left open. Her pulse jumped to new heights to find him in her flat. Her knees weakened when the scent of his cologne reached her nose.

It was just as she remembered.

Malfoy looked surprised. "I didn't mean to interrupt. Just thought I'd stop by."

His Adam's apple bobbed. The pale flesh protruded from his neck as a heat flared across her chest. She felt her body respond to his emergence as sudden as a Lust Potion. Every sensation of her clothing caressed her into arousal toward the new guest, new friend. A friend that didn't suspect a thing.

She reigned her obvious attraction by crossing her arms across her chest, the perky nature of her nipples now hidden. Though she couldn't help but move her arms slightly against the stretching need of her flesh. How nice it'd feel with his lips against them.

Whoa. No.

Hermione cleared her throat and forced a smile. "I'm just making supper."

Draco shoved his hands deep into his pockets. Subtly, he glanced around the room and quieted his breath.

"Are you on a date?"

A snort flew out of her nose before she realized it. It took a long blush to rid the embarrassment.

"Right. After this week, I think you'd know there is no such wizard lining up for this ride." Hermione stepped back into the kitchen and he followed, though hesitant. "It's just for Blaise. We're watching that movie I told you about. He brought lunch so I had to make supper."

He looked on edge with his hands shoved into his pockets, but visibly relaxed when she revealed it was only for Blaise. Hermione could have sworn it was relief.

"You're welcome to join us," she offered with a smile. "I mean, if you don't have other plans."

"I don't want to intrude."

Just then the Floo turned green again and produced Blaise, still sporting the same stylish suit as before, and a casually dressed Daphne with her hair in a crown of braids. She looked positively beautiful in her baggy jumper and tight leggings.

Daphne greeted Hermione with an encompassing hug. "Hope you don't mind. I had a feeling that Blaise was keeping secrets when he suddenly had plans."

It was clear by her scent that Daphne was a Healer: disinfectant and bleach.

Hermione's eyes watered as they pulled away. "Oh, I'm sorry. Should've just invited everyone over, shouldn't I?"

"That's alright. We're all here now." The girl smiled at her friend and then turned her attention to the kitchen. "Need any help? I'm useless in the kitchen. But I can just stand there and get in your way."

"What's cooking?" Blaise asked.

Malfoy was suddenly close to Hermione. A finger brushed against the small of her back and sent tingles shooting up her spine.

"Pasta," he answered.

Blaise gave a satisfied smirk. "Aw. For me? Don't tell me you've got a crush now. I can't blame you. A little charm gets to everyone eventually. One day I'll wear down Daphne."

"When dragons speak!" Daphne exclaimed.

"Don't tempt me, witch. I can whip up something to get a dragon rambling on like an old woman. Just say the word."

"To make dragons talk? You're mad."

Blaise flashed a smile. "Mad for you, love."

A bubbling pot interrupted the banter. Hermione swore under her breath. White foam struggled to breach the crest of the pot, but it was close. Flame flickered low, and the pot raised away from the heat simmered the out of control water.

Malfoy stepped near and peered down to the noodles below. "Saved it just in time."

He aided her in adding the noodles to the cream sauce flecked with minced garlic and red pepper flakes. She handed him a wooden spoon. The length of his fingers gripped up the hilt of the utensil, not much different than he gripped his wand. He set to work in a way that spoke for his ability, and thus didn't require her direction.

Hermione popped in the clams with the sauce, topped with parsley chiffonade, and declared the dish complete. Malfoy stirred as she set out flatware for her guests. When she turned around the teapot was on the stove, clicked to high.

Out of nowhere appeared four teacups, one on its way to the floor from a clumsy meeting with her elbow. She yelped out in shock and then again when a pair of pale hands presented it back, intact. Malfoy smirked as she eyed him with a sudden amazement.

Git. He liked when people were impressed. It raised his ego. She set his mouth in a firm line and reached for the cup.

The touch of their skin ignited the memory of their night together surged like a riptide through her veins. She felt the zap between them. Her startled gaze leapt up to his, and he shared the same intensity.

The riptide traveled to the apex of her thighs in a creamy drip down to her panties. A blush colored her cheeks throughout the meal as she'd notice his gaze more than once, or the subtle way he sucked noodles from his fork, or just the way his jaw was defined in a sharp line. It made her tremble the way he sighed.

Eyes turn to her; she instantly her thighs close.

Her eyes grew wide. "I'm sorry. I must have dazed. What were we talking about?"

"Daphne asked if you were seeing anyone," Malfoy remarked with a swallowed smile. He'd caught her gaze. Dropping her wine glass to table when they met only proved just how dazed she'd been.

Hermione swallowed a gulp of wine. "Oh, no. Gin's the one who dates. Casually."

"Casually?" Daphne asked.

Blaise had a much hungrier look. "Casually, you say."

"Who does she see? She's never mentioned anyone to me!"

"Until recently, she was casually, very casually, seeing Cormac McLaggen. You remember him? He was a Gryffindor so probably not." Her tone was playful. Hermione made sure of that. "Anyway, he didn't like that you all started hanging together. Ginny said he threw a royal hissy fit. Thankfully he's let her go."

The mention of Cormac caught Draco's attention. He scooted closer to the edge of his seat with great interest, eyes only pupils under the shining orb lights. Hermione couldn't look away. The difference of his pale gray to the dense black highlighted the beast beneath. The depths of his power, his need, the absolute control he exercised over his life in complete precision turned Hermione's vision of him to an unbridled lover with endless passion, rough yet passion filled in her embrace.

She clenched her thighs harder. Hopefully she didn't leak onto the floor.

"You and him get on, then?" Blaise asked before shoving another mouthful of delicious pasta into his mouth. Out of everyone, he enjoyed the pasta the most. Said it reminded him of his grandmother's own recipe. It was a load, she told him so, but the effort was appreciated.

"Not at all," she answered with a subtle snarl. "He's a disgusting excuse of a wizard and a filthy man."

A look of concern washed over Daphne. "Is he awful to Ginny?"

Hermione snorted. Of all the people Cormac was disgusting to, Ginny was the last. She didn't know why. Perhaps it was because Ginny only wanted the physical aspect of the relationship. Nothing else mattered.

"Despite as using her as an excuse to come here and harass me, no." She sighed. "They got on amazingly well."

"Harass? In what way?" Malfoy finally added.

Why did it always happen to her? She let the most undignified get under her skin and ruin her entire night like they deserved the thought. They sucked the life out of everything.

She shook her head. "Ah. What's it matter? Gone now, isn't he?"

The topic was dropped, and the night resumed on scheduled. There was only time for two of the Twilight movies, much to Blaise's disappointment because he still had questions. They made plans for another night and then another when Daphne suddenly remembered it was the date of her sister's engagement party and promptly rescheduled between their insanely intense work schedules.

Hermione watched them all leave through the Floo before she slipped out of her clothes and returned to her bed in the welcoming embrace of the nude. She snuggled below her sheets, cool and comfy, and fell to sleep that night without a single aching thought of a beautiful red-hair twin.