Her Shoes

Again, I want to thank t_stevenson, my amazing beta. Her input and advice is invaluable.



I want to thank everyone for the wonderful reviews. While I can’t reveal too much, I can say that there is more to Draco than what we see. Keep in mind that he’s a very deliberate and calculating man, not necessarily a bad thing. But he always has a plan, he keeps the big picture in mind all the time. Make note of the little things, they might turn up again later. Who knows?



DREAMWEAVER: I do love Blaise, as evident of my challenging you to him in HG4EVA’s story, but I couldn’t find a place for him in this story and didn’t want to regulate him to a minor character. This is Blaise after all. Not to fear, I hope to let the plot bunnies in my mind procreate something for our hot Slytherin.



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Hermione had never dreaded the beginning of the work week. Until now.



Monday had dawned and she had awoken early so she could arrive at her office to get as much of the day’s work done as possible. Today was her first day working for Malfoy and she was nervous. Nervous about this new role, the research, keeping Kingsley happy but most especially nervous because she'd be in Malfoy territory. After initial discussion between the two personal assistants, it was decided that the Floo Network was the best choice to travel to Malfoy Manor. Only the Malfoy family, by either blood or marriage, could Apparate directly onto the grounds or inside the manor.



She took her time, having chosen what she would wear very carefully. She wanted to reflect smart and sophisticated. She decided on a high-waisted classic black pencil skirt that sported angled topstitching, a matching cap-sleeved blazer with draped collar and a four-button front and tie waist. Underneath the blazer, she wore a simple sleeveless white jersey top with scooped neckline. Her three-inch, open-toed pumps were elegant white patented leather trimmed in black grosgrain ribbon with a small bow in the front. She’d wrestled then tamed her honey brown curls into three mini-chignons rosettes at the nape of her neck. The entire effect screamed professionalism and control.



Now she was ready to face Draco Malfoy.



The morning was immensely productive; she had finished several Ministry projects, met with Kingsley, and had a lovely lunch with her staff. Feeling quite accomplished, she gathered her paperwork for the afternoon and placed it into her briefcase. Head held high and feeling undaunted, she stepped towards the fireplace. Hermione took a deep breath as she reached for a handful of Floo powder. She let it out slowly as she stepped into the lit fireplace and called out clearly, “Malfoy Manor.”



As she stepped from the fireplace, she pulled out her wand to remove ash from her chic suit and black tailored jersey robes. She had no intention of appearing disheveled in front of the Malfoys.



A warm, deep male voice drawled behind her, “Well, well, well. At least you're on time today, Granger.”



She stiffened slightly chewed on her bottom lip briefly before pasting a practiced smile on her face; she turned slowly to face her ‘host.’ Good goddess, did he look scrumptious. He was dressed casually in Muggle style clothes. A crisp, white button-down shirt with French cuffs tucked into dark grey gabardine flat-front trousers that hugged those lean hips and accentuated his long muscular legs. The top three buttons of his shirt were undone giving her a flash of the manly flesh that lay hidden beneath.



“Good afternoon Malfoy. Shall we get started?”



He chuckled softly. “Is that your standard statement?” Holding a drink in hand, he strolled towards her. “Fancy a Fire whiskey?”



Hermione’s eyes widened then her lips formed a small moue of distaste, “Oh, uh, no thank you. I’m fine.”



Draco said nothing. Hooded eyes seemed to sparkle under his fringe.



“So Malfoy, will we be working in here?” Hermione turned slowly to survey the room. It was a small sitting room done in hues of blue with grandiose windows overlooking the famous Malfoy gardens. Silence greeted her query and Hermione’s skin began to prickle under his scrutiny.



Fidgeting slightly, she kept her eyes averted from his face.



“You look quite . . . proper.” His voice had dropped an octave, the gritty undertone traveling like lightening down her spine and curling low in her belly. She felt a familiar dampness begin to spread. Damn, she had just bought these knickers.



“Yes, well. I’ll just get started then shall I? I hope it’s alright if I sit here.” She moved towards the large, plush couch with every intention of putting some distance between herself and Draco’s gaze. Yes, she would focus on work.



‘Work. Focus. Right foot. Left foot. Don’t trip. Sit down on the sofa.’ Hermione began to make her way to the couch.



“Stop, Granger.” Gods, the man had a voice made for sin. “We’re not working in here. Follow me.”



She turned from the couch and followed him from the room into what she knew was the entrance foyer having been here once before. She glanced around quickly, shocked to discover that the foyer looked nothing like the last time she’d been there suffering under Bellatrix Lestrange’s wand. She stared in confusion, pausing to get her bearings.



As if sensing both her trepidation and confusion, Draco said softly, “We remodeled recently. Nothing is the same. That . . . room was destroyed along with a few others.” He moved towards her and touched her arm, “Come this way, I wouldn’t want you to get lost.”



He made his way up the grand staircase. She quickly followed surprised by the remodel, swiftly climbing the stairs; she most certainly did not want to get lost in this mausoleum.



Silence permeated the halls of the Manor. Hermione wondered where Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy might be hidden. They finally reached the landing and headed right, passing various paintings and portraits that stared and began whispering as she trailed behind Draco.



“Is that her?”



“Hmm.”



“ . . . gorgeous.”



“Lucky boy.”



“QUIET!” Draco bellowed as he continued walking briskly down the hallway.



At last, they arrived the end of the hallway in what she assumed was the East Wing. Draco flicked his wrist and a set of double doors opened.



“We’ll be working here. Come in.” He turned and gestured her into the room.



Stepping inside, Hermione’s jaw nearly dropped in wonderment. It was a suite of rooms in richly appointed hues of masculine chocolate browns, pale blues and creams. Within the center of the room was a sitting area, leather settees framed a massive fireplace of slate and stone. To her right, were floor-to-ceiling windows facing rolling hills and a baby grand piano was situated so the sunlight streaming through the windows made the dark wood gleam. Further down from the piano was a long mahogany table big enough to seat six, complete with a matching sideboard. Modern art graced the walls. Merlin, was that a Picasso?



To her left, were more windows. A large worktable was heavily laden with books, several cell phones and laptops. Opposite the table were two oversized desks facing each other by the windows.



“Pick a desk. The door to the left of the fireplace is my personal library, which you will have access to at anytime. Behind me is the loo. Tea will be served everyday promptly at four in the afternoon. Questions?” He leaned a hip against the worktable, crossed his arms and watched her continue to peruse the room.



“This is lovely, just lovely. Is this your personal suite of rooms?” She finally turned to look at him.



“So astute, Granger.” He drawled, sounding bored.



Did he always have to be such an arse? Why did she even bother trying to make conversation? Hermione’s eyes narrowed and she tilted her head towards the fireplace. “And that door to the right of the fireplace?”



Draco grinned salaciously. “That’s my bedroom. Fancy a tour, Granger?”



“You wish!” She huffed.



“Prude.”



“Ferret.”



“Bitch.”



That one word brought forth Hermione’s fantasy from the night before and she couldn’t help but blush brightly, quickly shifting her eyes away from Draco hoping he wouldn’t notice.



Unfortunately, Draco noticed.



“Hit a nerve, Granger? Is that what you are? Too many of your boyfriends realizing how much of a bitch you really are before leaving you in the dust?” He sneered down at her.



Hermione quickly turned and swallowed back the hurt that his cruel words caused. While she was certainly not a serial dater, she most certainly was not a prude either. After Ron, she’d had her fair share of suitors. Though she had only slept with a few, she had dated the dashing Oliver Wood, a handsome American wizard, a French count and one very sweet Muggle boy. None had lasted; they all ended for one reason or another, all on friendly terms. While not overly experienced she wasn’t some virginal swot who didn’t know how to please a man nor was she a hell bitch on wheels. The fucking cruel bastard.



“As if you’d know anything about dating, Malfoy. It involves commitment and emotion, neither of which you’re familiar with. No, you’d have to have a heart first.” She snapped at him.



Surprisingly, Hermione saw a flicker of anger race across his features which was suddenly replaced by an icy mask. “Let’s get started.” He said stonily.



“Fine.” She moved stiffly towards the desk and set down her briefcase.



They worked for the remainder of the afternoon until six in the evening. Hermione stood to stretch her legs and arms, before gathering up her paperwork.



“What are you doing Granger?” Draco didn’t even look up from his reading.



“Well, I’m completely knackered. I thought I’d head home.”



“Hot date tonight?” He asked still not looking up at her.



Anger tinged her reply, “That would be none of your business Malfoy. I’m going home, so good evening.”



Drawing no reaction from Draco, she grabbed her briefcase and the robes she’d slipped off hours ago.



“Wait, I’ll walk you out. I have some questions about your schedule.” He stood slowly and made his way towards her, a small work journal in hand.



Hermione nodded not trusting herself to answer.



He flipped open the journal. “On Wednesday, your assistant noted that you’ll be here late. Then again, on Friday you’ll be leaving around five. Why?”



Honestly, the man was an arsehole. “Personal reasons, Malfoy.”



“And those are?” He queried.



“None of your business.”



Milk chocolate and steely silver eyes clashed.



“My money is funding this very expensive venture so I want to know why my lead is cutting out during valuable time that could be spent researching and working. Why?” His voice matched the hardness of his eyes.



Too weary to argue any further, Hermione shook her head at the man’s audacity. “Contrary to whatever you may think, I do have a life. And despite your obviously low opinion of me, not all men happened to agree with your poor assessment of me. If you must know, I have a lunch date on Wednesday and a dinner date on Friday evening.”



Draco’s eye twitched. “Who?”



“Excuse me?”



“You heard me, Granger? Who? Who are you having lunch with and who are meeting for dinner?”



“None of . . .” She fumed but was cut off when Draco strode towards her, gripped her upper arms and with a little shake said in a demanding whisper, “Tell. Me. Who. NOW!”



“Adrian Pucey.” She blurted out under his commanding posture and tone. Her eyes widened in disbelief that she’d given in as she struggled in his grasp. Damn his voice!



He dropped his hands from her arms but didn’t move away from her. Several seconds passed as his mercurial eyes roved over her face and neck. A slow, warm flush crept slowly up Hermione’s body.



The stillness in the room became stifling.



Clearing her throat, Hermione softly whispered, “I-I’d like to go now, please.” She could feel a cold sliver of fear seep into her bones as Draco stood there silent and predatory, a demon carved in stone as he continued to study her.



Silently, he turned from her, wandlessly opened the door and walked out of the room. Hermione dashed after him through the hallways, the portraits and paintings mysteriously vacant. They entered the same blue room she’d arrived in earlier, she mumbled a quick ‘thanks’ to Draco before taking a pinch of Floo powder. His voice stopped her in mid-throw.



“Granger . . .”



Glancing over her shoulder, she stared at him dry-mouthed.



He smirked, “Nice shoes.” He turned and walked out leaving her alone in the sitting room.



Completely flummoxed and not at all understanding what had just transpired between the two of them. Hermione Floo’d directly to her flat, closed the connection to Malfoy Manor and pulled out her wand to enable strong security wards. Her heart was beating so rapidly she felt as if it would burst from her chest. She fought for control over her breathing and trembling.



A restless and sleepless evening stretched out before her.



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Wow, so what is up with Draco??



Here is a link to the Dolce & Gabbana little beauty: http://www.denvermagazine.com/files/Dolce-Gabbana-Neiman-Marcus.gif