One dull Wednesday afternoon, Draco was in his office at Malfoy International, fiddling with his quill and looking at the clock every two minutes. It was almost time for the appointment he had been waiting for.

"Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger is here," announced his secretary through the magical intercom.

"Send her in, Lucy, thank you."

Draco sat straighter on his desk chair, double-checking his perfect Windsor tie knot. He didn't like how nervous this visit made him. For a few years now, he'd have a cordial relationship with the Gryffindor Princess that had evolved into a good-hearted smartass competition. After apologizing and mending fences, he finally proved to her why he had always been a close second behind her in school. He immensely enjoyed their banter; their now good-natured rivalry had turned her into an endless source of wonder. Little by little, he had developed a crush.

It was harder for him to keep his cool lately when the news of her breakup became public. Not that it was a big surprise. Ronald Weasley was a quidditch player, always traveling; Hermione Granger was a known workaholic. For the longest time, Draco had suspected that the two of them felt more attracted to the idea of being in a relationship than with each other. Apparently, they have parted ways amicably; after all, there was no real passion for meriting a fight. They probably felt the same relief that Astoria Greengrass had manifested when Draco suggested the dissolution of the betrothal that their parents had arranged for them after Hogwarts. His musings were interrupted by the entrance of the curly witch.

"Granger. What a pleasant surprise," he quipped, standing to greet her.

"I would hardly consider it a surprise, knowing that I made an appointment a week ago," she said, offering her hand to shake. Instead, Draco took her fingers and kissed her knuckles. Hermione blushed and quickly took a seat. The Slytherin felt better now that he had made her nervous too.

"So, to what do I owe this immense pleasure."

She rolled her eyes but went straight to the point.

"I need your vote in the Wizengamot. I'm about to pass a controversial piece of legislation: werewolf rights. Please, listen to me. I know you suffered a lot because of the presence of Fenrir Greyback, but so did lots of other people. His victims now wander the forests, many of them trying to live normal lives, but they don't have access to wolfsbane potion and have almost no employment opportunities."

She kept going on, passionately explaining the situation and the solutions she had come up with. It was a fantastic project, but it will require government support and radical changes in legislation to modify what had been in place for centuries. She needed the votes of prominent traditional families. And Draco was both a Malfoy and a Black.

Impressive as the idea was, about halfway Draco had lost track of it. He was distracted by the way her breasts moved inside the silk blouse with every breath she took during her speech; by the manner her lips pouted when she tried to remember a specific quote in the law that she had memorized, by the prim way her legs crossed in that tight pencil skirt.

"In conclusion, this would be a great coup for your family name. What do you think?"

Draco looked at her blankly, caught in the middle of his daydream. Trying to remember the last thing she had said, it took him a bit too long to answer. Hermione raised an eyebrow, suspicion in her tone.

"You are going to ask me for something in return. I knew it. I scratch your back, you scratch mine. Alright, Malfoy, out with it. What is it that you want?"

Draco was shocked by her assumption. He had thought they were friends, but apparently, she was not there yet. Granted, she asked for a significant demonstration of political support, but he would have offered his vote even if she didn't tell him what she was up to. Hermione Granger was a brilliant and honest politician, so whatever her idea was, it was sure to be a success. Still, her attitude stung, so he quickly racked his brain for something he could ask, just to mess with her. Then it hit him. His mouth quirked in a grin.

"I need you to be my wife, Granger."

"Excuse me?" she spat, taken aback.

"Is just for a weekend," he mused.

"Malfoy, I'm serious. I need your vote. Please quit messing with me and tell me what I can do in exchange for it."

Draco lifted a hand to calm her down.

"Hear me out. I'm going on a business trip to Bali this weekend. I'm a bit nervous about it because the Balinese have a natural distrust of single adults. It makes you appear unreliable, noncommittal. If you come with me, the business people there will assume that you are my wife; otherwise, we would not be traveling together and sharing quarters. So here is my proposal: take my credit card, go shopping for plenty of beautiful clothes for the trip; make sure to get at least two night dresses and shoes. We'll take a portkey to Bali on Friday. Once there, we'll stay in a magnificent villa for three days. You spend the days on the beach while I do business and accompany me to parties at night. We'll drink, dance, meet some interesting people, then on Monday, we will be back."

Hermione blinked, confused.

"And?"

"And that's it."

She sat there, her face going quickly through all kinds of expressions as she tried to think. She asked for a vote on the Wizengamot, and in exchange, he wants her to go on a vacation? Finally, Hermione huffed a laugh.

"You were going to support my proposal anyway, weren't you?"

He shrugged.

"Of course I was, Granger. I have never heard you have a bad idea. Except for SPEW, but you were fifteen back then. You have more political experience now," he said cheekily.

Hermione chuckled.

"You know what, Malfoy? I'll do it. Give me your credit card," she beckoned with her fingers, voice full of mirth.

Draco smirked and handed her a black titanium card.

"Oh. You were serious about this. I thought it was a jest," she said, studying the card with surprised eyes.

He chuckled.

"I'm dead serious, Granger. This is a big business opportunity for me. I need you to look your best. And I don't mind if you get a couple of extra things, or maybe ten, just because you feel like it. Really, this is a big favor for me. Your presence will secure me millions of galleons in new business. So have at it."

"Show off," she said, standing to leave.

"Always," he replied, walking around the desk to take her hand and kiss it again.

On Friday, Draco paced his office, full of nervous energy. Hermione walked in, wearing a beautiful, white day dress with a matching sun hat. She looked stunning and excited about their little adventure.

"Ready?" he asked, extending a hand that was holding a broken mug.

"Vacation time!" she confirmed, reaching for the mug.

They were transported to an elegant lobby. A formally dressed businessman accompanied by his wife received them with deep bows. Draco felt an immense relief for not having arrived alone.

"Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy. It is an honor for us to have you here. I am Gede. Mrs. Malfoy, if you may, my wife, Nyoman, will show you to your villa while your husband and I conduct business."

"Thank you, Gede; it is an honor, too," answered Hermione. Then she bowed her head to the witch. "Nyoman, please lead the way."

Draco kissed her cheek goodbye, keeping a calm face, but inside he was fist-pumping in triumph. Granger had been the perfect choice for this trip. As much a modern witch as she was, her experience in diplomacy made her behave appropriately for the occasion. He made a mental note of getting her a great thank you gift. Maybe she would fancy a muggle automobile? An Aston Martin, perhaps?

A few hours later, Draco apparated to the villa, tired but satisfied. The meeting had been an excellent opening for the weekend negotiations. He looked around the place. It was an open plan slice of paradise, with 180-degree views to the private beach and the mountains behind. The kind of place that could be "clothes optional." The thought gave him goosebumps and shook the content of his trousers.

"How did it go?" asked a giddy voice. He turned around to see Hermione, obviously just back from the beach, hair damp and skin shimmering with tan oil and specks of sand. He was rendered speechless by her appearance, especially her swimwear: it was an itsy bitsy, teeny weeny red bikini. Fuck, she looked delightful.

"Let's just say I'm glad I'm back here," he mused, eyes still racking her body.

"It went badly?" she asked with concern, standing too close to him.

"No, I'm just tired," he assured, trying to force his eyes to stop staring at her boobs. "The meeting was good, and I know we were up to a great start because of your presence."

She gave her a playful shove.

"Flatterer. All I did was stand there and look pretty. But you do look tired. Why don't you climb on that big hammock? I'll bring you a fruit smoothie; then you can nap before tonight's event?"

He saw the tempting hammock on the deck overlooking the beach and nodded in agreement. He changed into a pair of white linen pants and a short-sleeve shirt that he left unbuttoned before climbing on the hanging bed. To his surprise, he felt movement. Hermione had jumped next to him, levitating two glasses of a colorful beverage. He took one, and she toasted:

"To your business venture."

"You are feeling enthusiastic," he quipped, clinking glasses.

She took a sip, licking the excess from her lips.

"I guess I had not realized how stressed out I was. I would not have thought of taking three days off, let alone running away to paradise, but this is exactly what I needed. Thank you, Malfoy. I know this is supposed to be a favor for you, but I'm having an amazing time."

"You're welcome, Granger," he replied.

"It's Malfoy," she clarified. "My name is Hermione Malfoy, at least for the next two days."

"Alright, Mrs. Malfoy. I must say, Mr. Malfoy is a lucky man."

"Oh, my Draco is a treasure," she jested, making exaggerated hand gestures. "He is the smartest businessman in all of wizarding Europe. He will make all of you gentlemen very rich," she claimed, pretending to speak to an audience.

"Oh, wow, I did marry well," he mused, lifting his glass for another toast: "to my wife, who can both effortlessly charm a room of businesspeople and rock the smallest bikini the world has ever seen."

"Oh, darling, you make me blush," she responded, face really going deep red.

They looked at each other for a minute, heartbeats loud. What was truly going on here? Hermione broke the spell.

"You need some rest. Take a nap," she said softly.

"Ok," he answered, closing his eyes. He wanted to pull her to nestle on his chest, but decided not to push his luck. Still, he was sure she was watching him sleep, and that made him giddy.

Hermione did watch him sleep, hypnotized by the soft movement of his chest rising up and down with every breath, exposed by his unbuttoned shirt. She let her imagination run free, wondering if his alabaster skin was as soft as it looked. How would it feel to brush her fingers over it, even following the faded Sectumpsempra scars? She closed her eyes and lowered her arms by her side to stay put. When she started to doze off, her pinky finger touched his, and they interlaced.

That night they attended the sumptuous event planned in their honor. Hermione was fascinated by everything: the ambiance, decorations, costumes, performances. Draco was fascinated by the way her dress wrapped every sinful curve of her body. They both played the part of most gracious guests and had a wonderful time. When they went back to the villa Draco offered:

"Nightcap?" he said, getting a couple of cold beers from the fridge.

"Don't mind if I do," she answered happily.

They sat on the deck and clinked bottles. A plump moon shined over the sea as they contemplated it in silence for a while. Suddenly Hermione asked:

"Why did you ask me to come with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I went to your office 48 hours before this trip. How come you had not arranged for a companion if you knew that was so important for your image here?"

"What are you saying that I should have hired an escort?" he scoffed at the thought.

"No, not that, I mean a rich and handsome wizard like you offering a free vacation to Bali can have his pick of the litter."

He sipped his beer, constructing an answer.

"Ok, let's say for the sake of argument that I came here with a witch that I picked because she has a giant rack, is easily impressed by money, and is a sure thing. Off the top of my head, I brought your Hogwarts roommate Lavender Brown. She's a cover model for Witch Weekly; according to you, she'll do," he challenged.

Hermione snorted inelegantly.

"If you had brought Lav Lav, your prospective business partners would have already put you on a portkey back to London. She would have spent the night trying to convince them that she could read their tea leaves and predict how the business would go, or something stupid of the sort."

"See? all I would have gotten from this trip would have been a shag," he pretended to agree.

"A mediocre shag," said Hermione bitterly into her beer, taking a sip.

Draco smirked, satisfied by the jealousy in Hermione's voice. He had picked Brown's name on purpose. He remembered the number it did on her when the blonde bimbo had dated Weasley back in school. Draco wanted to know how Hermione would feel if she had to imagine that woman or any other, slipping into his bed. Hermione tried some nonchalance.

"So you asked me because I am good business,"

"I asked you because you are good company, Granger," he said, holding her gaze.

Hermione looked into those silver eyes, heart threatening to burst out of her chest. For once, she chose the coward's way out. She stood to go to her room but tried to soften her sudden departure with a joke.

"Good night, husband."

"Good night, wife," he replied, feeling how easily the words rolled off his tongue.

In the morning, Hermione walked out of her room to the kitchen and found a note.

"Gede sent a message asking for a very early meeting. I hope that doesn't mean trouble. Send me good vibes."

Hermione sighed. Hopefully, this was not bad news for Draco. She was having a lovely time with him and would loathe seeing him distraught. She distracted herself with breakfast and a book.

A couple of hours later, she heard the pop of apparition.

"Hermione? Hermione, where are you?"

"I'm here," she responded, running to meet him, a questioning look in her eyes.

Draco flashed her a brilliant smile.

"Gede told me there was no need for more meetings. He is deeply impressed with both of us. You are looking at the exclusive importer of Balinese magical supplies for the whole of Europe," he said, vibrating with exhilaration.

Hermione squealed and ran to jump into his arms in an excited hug. This felt as if it was her triumph too. When she pulled back, their eyes met, and Draco took the plunge, kissing her square in the mouth. Her surprise lasted only a half-second before she responded in kind. It felt just right. When they came out for air, he spoke softly.

"Be my wife, Granger."

She cleared her throat, not sure how to take that. He cannot be serious, can he? But maybe he was? After all, purebloods were used to jump into marriages with far less of an incentive than what the two of them had. Trying to be cautious, she once again tried a lame joke.

"I am your wife, until Monday at least." She felt how flat and stupid that sounded. He was not discouraged, though.

"What I mean is date me, for as long as you need, until you decided for yourself that despite how much of a stupid child I once was, we are meant for each other. You are my ideal woman, Hermione, and I know I can make you very happy."

She thought of what to say. One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Three heartbeats. Before he could feel discouraged, Hermione pulled him down and spoke with her lips brushing his.

"Prove it."