When the face of Draco Malfoy appeared on the reflective surface of her clock's large hand, Hermione knew he was within ten feet of her door.

FINALLY!

Quickly picking up a quill, she shuffled some papers around on her desk, neatly tapping them into an ordered stack. When the knock came, she tapped the papers again as she called out, "Come in."

Minister Malfoy breezed in, hair perfect and dressed to impress in expensive woolen robes dyed in flattering shades of grey. His silvery eyes popped as a result. In one hand, he carried an attaché case made of what looked to be dragon hide. "Good afternoon, Ms. Granger," he greeted, shutting the door behind him.

She tapped the papers a third time, straightening their edges, and then lay the bundle down in her OUT box – where they'd originated. "Good afternoon, Minister. Please come in and have a seat." She waved towards the empty chair in front of her desk. "Tea?"

He strolled over, and settled into the seat she'd indicated, crossing his legs and sitting back as if he owned the place. "That would be lovely."

With a simple wave of her wand and a silent charm, she had the full pot on the tray on the small side table heated. The silver tea ball within steeped a personalized blend of Lemon balm, Chamomile flowers, and St. Johns Wort – herbs guaranteed to aid in calming the nerves. She was sure that within a half-hour, they'd need all the help they could get not to kill each other.

"Lemon, honey, cream, or sugar?" she offered. "It's an herbal with citrus leanings."

He tilted his head in consideration. "Honey. A full dollop, if you would be so kind."

She nodded and lifted the ceramic lid on the small honey pot, dipping the silver demitasse spoon into its golden-amber, sticky depths.

In anticipation of today's meeting, she'd meticulously laid out the antique Coalport tea service that she'd inherited from her grandmother, wanting to impress her guest. It was one of the rarer collectibles of the series, she knew, with its real gold gilt edging and its hand-painted songbird toile design. She adored it for its beauty and for the woman who had once owned it, and only took it out on very special occasions. Malfoy probably wouldn't appreciate the meaning or the gesture, but she knew he wouldn't be able to simply ignore the fact that it was a well-kept and attractive piece.

It was, of course, a clever device intended to rip away any preconceived notions he might have about all things Muggle. It was also intended to set the tone of their discussion: refined, courteous discourse would be the mandate, for it was an unwritten law that one never spoke dreadful words over tea.

When she felt the hot beverage had steeped long enough, she poured it into each cup, stirred the honey into his, and then brought him his serving with saucer and a dainty napkin. She added cream and honey to hers, enjoying her tea to be smoother in texture – a habit she'd picked up in Geneva.

Once she was settled back into her chair behind her desk, opposite him, she waited for him to take the first sip, as was polite, and then followed suit.

Malfoy blinked in pleased surprise, looking into his cup. "Delicious."

"My own blend," she stated, trying not to sound too boastful. So far, her plan was working perfectly.

"And a lovely service in presentation," he complimented, giving her a slight nod.

She smiled over the rim of her cup at him. "My grandmother's." She took a sip, swallowed, and then placed the cup back on its matching saucer. "Shall we get down to the purpose of your visit?"

The Minister's lips twitched with amusement, and he set his own cup and saucer down on the end of her desk. "All work and no play, Granger. You know what that does to a person."

Already, he was attempting to disarm her with that charming smile, and a boyish glint in his eye. She countered that with a prim readjusting of her glasses on the bridge of her nose, looking over the square frames. "I'm on the government's clock and purse, sir. I wouldn't want to be accused of abusing the public's money with too much frivolity during established work hours."

It was an indirect slight, as she'd heard around the office how the Minister had been caught more than once playing a game of Exploding Snap with his Vice-Minister in the middle of the day while secreted in his office, and that he tended to work Muggle banking hours.

Amused by her response – or perhaps by her glasses, she couldn't tell which – Malfoy smirked. "Yes, well, we couldn't have that, could we?" He reached down and picked up his attaché case, placing it on his knees. The locks snapped open with a wave of his hand, and he raised the lid.

Hermione reached for her agenda, the stack of notes with the legal details that she'd taken down the other day, and her Dictation Quill. "I've made a list of pertinent topic points to discuss-"

"I'm sure you have," he replied, pulling out a thin, bound set of his own notes and a Dictation Quill, too. "As have I." He lowered the lid on his case, set it back on the floor at his side, and waved the Quill into life. A piece of parchment magically appeared in the air under the Quill's tip, ready to be used. Magical ink flooded the Quill's point, as well. "To be chivalrous, I'll let you go first." He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs again. "Have at it."

Taking a deep breath, she plunged in, covering the salient points of each law and how the wording needed to be changed to be gender-neutral, or in some cases, completely rescinded. Her presentation lasted an hour and twenty-three minutes.

His lasted less than half that.

Basically, she got a verbal agreement to everything she was requesting, and without the harried negotiations. Malfoy was amenable to making the work place better for women's rights, and for removing those laws by decree that threatened a woman's rights to autonomy.

"You realize, of course, I have to go through all of this with the Vice-Minister, as he's my running mate, and we need to consider the implications of changing laws during this, a critical time during my campaign."

She nodded. "Perfectly reasonable. I also recognize that some of these laws might jeopardize your re-election if adjusted before the votes are tallied, specifically the ones affecting marriage and property rights. I'm willing to concede to the idea that if needs be, I can wait until after you're in office a second term for them to be enacted," she stated, knowing it was politic that she show some willingness to compromise during this crucial time in the discussion. To be too inflexible might damage her ability to appear reasonable. Her work in Geneva had taught her the importance of give-and-take.

Draco nodded. "Excellent." He bent to retrieve his attaché so he could put away his notes. "Of course, there is the one obvious, tiny, little, baby hiccup issue of me not being re-elected."

As she was straightening her own notes, she paused. "Yes, that could be a major stumbling block."

He held up a finger, as if to emphasize the point. "Especially since my opponent, Rattlebag, is a staunch pure-blood conservative."

She made a face. Simmons Rattlebag – "of the Sussex Rattlebags – perhaps you've heard of us?" - had previously been an Ambassador of the British Ministry to the Austrian one before returning to London to take up the post as Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation four years ago. The man was politically slippery, had a glandular problem that caused him to constantly sweat, and was definitely nineteenth century in his attitudes about gender roles. Hermione had had the misfortune of running into the man after a debate he'd brought to the I.C.W.'s floor six years prior regarding women riding brooms. He'd almost successfully convinced the Confederation that witches should only be allowed to ride sidesaddle, "for decency's sake". Thank Godric sanity had prevailed and the measure had been voted down. Still, that such a ludicrous and dangerous idea had made it as far as the voting floor was frightening.

If Simmons won the election and actually became Minister, she could kiss her reforms good-bye. Merlin, she hoped Malfoy won.

"As do I," he stated, and she realized she'd unintentionally spoken that last part aloud. "But it seems that Fate not might be kind to me a second time."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

He placed his papers and Quill inside his briefcase and closed it, locking it with a wave of his hand. "I forget that you've only just returned to England. You know I achieved this position by a fluke, don't you?" He was very forthcoming in the question, without a hint of apology or embarrassment.

She nodded.

"Well, it seems my positions since taking The Chair have left me wildly unpopular with the more conservative faction in our society," he said.

"You mean the pure-blood families," she stated, getting right to the meat of the problem.

Draco's head dipped once, and he set his case aside, reaching for his neglected teacup and saucer. Absently, Hermione waved her wand in its direction, warming it back up for him. "Thank you," he offered. "Yes, the pure-bloods are a problem. They're split on the reasons for their lack of faith in me, however. There are the staunch reactionaries whom I will never please – they've flocked to Rattlebag's ticket. However, there is a rather substantial group of younger conservatives, mostly in the realm of fiscal responsibility, who are on the fence about me. They're less concerned with social issues, and more concerned with my ability to budget and organize the government properly."

"They're your Golden Snitch," she intuitively stated. "With them, you win the election."

He nodded. "Precisely. What they're wanting for me, though, doesn't seem likely to happen."

Here it came: his pitch – his reason for pursuing this meeting. "And why is that?" she asked, giving him the pat question she knew he was expecting from her.

He nonchalantly shrugged those wide shoulders of his and took a sip of tea. "Because what they want from me is to show I've got a stable family life – that I'm settled with a witch of good moral character and whose attributes will positively influence my ability to be grounded and deliberative." He gave her a serpentine smile. "I can't very well reassure them with something I haven't got, now can I?"

Ah. Now his reasons became crystal clear.

At first, Hermione was irate at the sexism inherent in his inference, but almost immediately after that thought followed one she'd never have expected: what if she teamed up with Malfoy? What would be the worst that could happen? She'd get what she wanted: gender-discrimination laws tossed, a Minister who was aligned with most of her own concerns, and the ability to influence positive change.

On the flip side… this was Malfoy. Their past hadn't been the most amicable, his behaviour during the war had leaned towards the despicable, and he irritated her with his games.

Then again, she hadn't had this much fun sparring with someone since she'd left Geneva. Ron hadn't been interested in discussing anything aside from meal menus, how she looked lying back on his fluorescent orange, Chudley Cannons-coloured bedspread, and if she thought his hairline was receding or not. Draco was charming, amusedly dodgy, and he'd grown into his inherited looks with age. Besides, she'd actually planned an outfit around the man. That had to say something, right?

"What if…?" she began as she rose from her seat, pushed aside her teacup, and perched her bum on the edge of her desk to face him. She stared down into his passive, grey gaze. "What if instead you had a running mate who could bring the exact same attributes to the table, rather than a wife?"

He narrowed his eyes in consideration. Clearly, he hadn't thought she'd catch on quite so quickly, nor offer him a counter-proposal.

She pushed, hoping it wouldn't be too far. "We both know Zabini's good at politics, but from the rumours going around, it's only a matter of time before he inadvisably 'compromises' one of the Department secretaries he's sleeping with – and the scandal will be bad for you."

Her companion's eyes widened and a smirk crawled up his cheek. "Why, Granger, it seems I've completely underestimated your ruthless side."

She waved him off. "Happens all the time. Over the years, Harry accused me multiple times of having been sorted into the wrong House back in school. He says I have very Slytherin-like tendencies."

His lips twitched and he uncrossed, and then re-crossed his legs, seeming uncomfortable in his current seated position. "Is that so?"

She leaned back on the heels of her hands. "What's it to be, Malfoy? Will you change the laws now and add me to your ticket? We both know I'm exactly the kind of running mate you need: my politics align perfectly with those voters you're pandering to, and with my reputation, I can guarantee you the win. We both know that's true."

He put aside his teacup and saucer and stared up at her in serious contemplation. "Not to imply that you aren't more than qualified for the position as Vice-Minister – hell, you're qualified for my job - but I think, I'd have preferred you for my wife. Vice-Minister would only be a temporary position, after all."

Hermione's smugness dropped away, and she was left stunned by his brutally honest comment. "You're not serious?"

There was hunger in his gaze as he took her in from the tips of her leather heels to the top of her tightly bound hair. "In this case, gravely so."

When their eyes met, she felt the electricity spark between them. Warmth curled in her belly, enticing and powerful. Her body reacted, slicking and heating.

Godric Almighty, was she really attracted to Draco Malfoy? How could something like that even be possible? He was…

…everything she'd been looking for in a partner: attractive, intelligent, clever, and as she considered him now, sexually magnetic.

But for one obvious, tiny, little baby hiccup, he would be perfect: if he were her running mate, they couldn't be intimate. The voters may approve of a First Lady's influence, but never a husband-wife team in the highest office in Wizarding England. He was her sole ticket to crawling out of the self-imposed exile she'd hidden away in since her return to England, and her stepping-stone to the very top of power in London. If she became involved with him, it would squash her personal career aspirations from a second launch.

On the other hand, if she accepted the offer to be his token wife, she could still influence politics from the background – as her therapist would most likely suggest as the wisest course of action, given her temperament. Her Healer would chastise her something fierce if he knew she was considering re-entering the high stress environment of the political arena, reminding her that the minor heart attack she'd had last year had been her one and only wake-up call.

Hermione wasn't stupid; she knew she couldn't keep burning her candle at both ends as she had been in Geneva. Too much continual pressure might very well spell her doom. It's why she'd taken the quiet law librarian position in the first place.

But she had the chance to effect real change here, too. She could do so much good as a Vice-Minister, perhaps even using it as a launching pad for her own Ministerial bid once Draco decided to step down four years hence…

"You sure, Hermione?" he asked, his tone dropping into a smooth, low sensual murmur. "Last chance. You'd make a hell of a Malfoy."

Staring into his molten silvery gaze, she licked her lips, took a deep breath, and gave him her answer.

~FIN… for now~

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

This is as far as I took the story for the fest it was written for. However, I'd really like to know your thoughts, dear readers on which direction you think the story should end.

Here are some options I've tossed around in my head:

1. Hermione becomes Draco's Vice-Minister (Zabini happily steps aside) and they win the election, but they are never romantically involved due to the conflict of interest. Instead, they revamp the Ministry together, re-elected continually because they are such a remarkable political pairing, marry others, and remain lifelong friends who will always wonder, "What If?" every time they look at each other.

2. Hermione becomes Draco's wife, supports his election from the sidelines, and they win. They have a lovely life together, including having a son, but Draco isn't elected for a third term because Zabini's philandering has (as Hermione predicted) caused a scandal and popular opinion moves against them. Somewhat relieved to let the political arena go, they retire to the country, deciding politics isn't for them anymore, and raise their boy out of the limelight.

3. Hermione becomes Draco's Campaign Manager and they win the election. She straightens Zabini up and finds him a nice witch to settle down with so he won't jeopardize Draco's political life. She becomes romantically involved with Draco, they have two lovely children, but her health is very poor because of all of the stress she has put on it. They have ten wonderful years together before her body finally gives out. The nation mourns her passing. Draco stays on as Minister in her honour, re-elected again and again until the end of his long life. He never remarries.

.

Send me a note and let me know if any of those options above appeal, or if you have a better idea. Would love to hear your take on the ending!

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Lines from the movie, "Love Actually" that were used in this story thus far:
"I love that word, 'relationship.' Covers all manner of sins, doesn't it?"
"Oh, no. That is so inconvenient."
"I'm very busy and important. How can I help you?"
"I think it's brilliant! It's stellar. Uh, apart from the one obvious, tiny, little, baby hiccup…"
"Life is full of interruptions and complications."