Some Things Change

Hermione didn’t usually blush over her dreams. After all, they were perfectly natural, and she was used to her brain taking ideas and running away with them, even while asleep.

This dream, however, was particularly lascivious.

It involved not one, but both demanding, delicious, and— in her dream—degenerate Malfoy men. She had to shake her head at the intensity of the dream. She’d never even had the inkling that one man wouldn’t be enough; in fact, her somewhat poor self-esteem sometimes informed her that she was the one who wouldn’t be enough for a man.

So she filed that dream away for a rainy day and got dressed for work. She usually enjoyed analyzing her dreams, getting a perverse pleasure in deciphering exactly what her overactive imagination was implying.

This time, she tried to forget about it.

And she had more important things to deal with, anyway. Like the fact that her Floo was going haywire and dropping her off too early, so she had to walk to the Ministry from a neighbouring building. Very frustrating. Her Apparating seemed to be failing her as well, not Splinching her thank goodness, but leaving her feeling very ill, like she had travelled overseas and not just across town.

Maybe she was coming down with some sort of wizarding ‘flu. It bore thinking about, but not now.

Now, it was time to work.

She and Draco had a presentation for the Liberation of House Elves group today in front of the Ministry’s budgeting committee. They had to have nearly every dollar approved before they could spend any of it, despite the fact that their overall budget had already been set. The Ministry didn’t like to see too much money going to any particular cause, and wanted it spread fairly evenly, because Merlin forefend they’d actually get anything of merit done with their money.

Hermione had the charts and spreadsheets ready, though she knew Draco would only scoff at her and tell her the committee only needed the department’s assurance that they would not blow their budget in the first week of the quarter. Hermione would not relent, however, and informed Draco in turn that change began at home, et cetera, until he agreed to help her pitch.

Having been accused of predictability a few times in her life, Hermione could recognize it in others immediately, and Draco always caved when she lectured him for any more than three minutes straight. She could set her watch by it.

And like clockwork, one hundred and eighty two seconds in, Draco sighed heavily and reached for her portfolio, telling her he would read the section on the lasting impact of slavery on other comparative species in history.

Hermione smiled demurely and handed it over.

Draco was his usual professional self, reading her work like he’d written it himself, answering questions and fielding responses like he’d done it all his life, never losing his cool, never stalling or stuttering.

When Hermione stood up to finish the presentation, she noticed Lucius Malfoy sneak in through the far door and take a seat at the table. He was on the budgeting committee, but rarely showed up to these meetings as only two members had to be there, with a third needed only in case of deadlock (which never happened). The decision had to be unanimous, and they rarely wasted their time quibbling.

Lucius looked at Hermione with an interested look on his face, raising an eyebrow when she stammered. Feeling the heat rise in her face, she tried to find her place. Why was he looking at her like that? Didn’t he know the effect he had on people?

On her?

She couldn’t help but recall the dream she’d had last night, and with that thought in mind, she totally stalled.

Draco had noticed his father’s entrance and Hermione’s immediate descent into incoherence. Well, that’s interesting, he noted to himself as he stood up to continue the presentation flawlessly. Hermione sat down, looking at her hands, and Draco glanced at his father questioningly, wondering what exactly had turned his spitfire into a shrinking violet. His father only gazed back impassively, the smallest of smiles playing on his lips.

Their budget was immediately vetoed and reworked. Draco couldn’t help feeling sorry for Hermione, since her efforts were mostly for show. The committee usually overruled their decisions and put into place their own, regardless of how well-researched the attempt was. Only half the money they’d asked for was to be allotted to the Liberation of House Elves. Lucius did not attempt to overrule, just as Draco knew he wouldn’t. He wished Hermione would stop wasting her time trying to get the senior members to change, and spend it more wisely.

Hermione flew out of the board room while Draco was collecting their papers. He didn’t notice Lucius smoothly exit after her.

“Miss Granger, a word?”

“Unfair,” she immediately retorted, walking briskly to the elevators.

“Pardon me?” he queried, catching up to her and stopping her with a hand on her elbow.

“You wanted a word; I gave you the first one that came to mind. Unfair. I work so hard to get my voice heard, and it never means anything.” She looked extremely upset, and Lucius was suddenly glad it was common knowledge that the Malfoy house elves were freed.

“We are not having this discussion again,” Lucius stated, fighting the urge to groan. “It is just not feasible to dump such a large percentage of your budget into one project. You had to know it wouldn’t be approved.”

“No, I didn’t! I thought that all my evidence, research, and passion would make a difference this time! Call me naïve, foolish, I don’t care. Someone has to try, or nothing will ever change.”

Lucius led her to the elevators, and pressed the button for her. They stepped in together, his hand on her elbow remaining. He turned her to him once the elevator doors closed.

“Hermione, believe me, I appreciate your…passion. But baby steps, all right? We’re all just cogs in the Ministry machine, after all, and all your bosses have bosses to answer to. Everyone has a pet project that gets shot down. Believe me.”

Hermione looked at him, surprised. What was his project? she wondered. She realized she knew nothing about him, the new him. And she thought that maybe she’d been harsh in her assessment of him. After all, she’d changed her mind about Draco; that had only taken five years. Maybe the ice around Lucius could afford to melt a little.

Her smile was small, but she said, “Sometimes a pet project becomes a life mission, and it will always hurt to see one’s baby shot down.” Her voice was small, but convicted; he knew he’d hear the same lecture on slavery in the next quarter, without fail, and he smiled at the thought.

“There’s always the Werewolf Emancipation Project,” he reminded her, smiling ever so slightly. She laughed and got off on her floor. She turned around to thank him through the closing doors, but the intense look on his face startled her. He seemed to notice her looking at him, and immediately replaced his cool mask. He only nodded his head, and let the doors fall closed as he continued to his floor.


The rest of the week went by unremarkably. Draco was taking her out for Chinese in Muggle London that Friday, and she was looking forward to their familiar banter. She was thankful that he kept their working relationship professional, other than inviting himself into her office without invitation. However, she was beginning to suspect that it was an affront that he afforded everyone, not just her. It was possible that it never even occurred to him to knock.

That was how their fight began.

“Draco Malfoy, remove yourself from my office immediately,” she ordered, having been imposed upon too many times that day, and taking it out on him.

He raised his hands in mock surrender, which he knew she absolutely hated, and backed away slowly. He didn’t leave, however. Hermione rose from her desk and walked to him in a way she hoped was intimidating.

It wasn’t.

Draco could help but smile at the tiny brunette trying to be tough. Her eyes narrowed, and he realized his mistake immediately.

No one laughed at Hermione Granger.

All the frustration, all the annoyances, all the times her projects were denied, all the anger at their budget rose to the surface and Hermione lunged at him, embracing her Muggle heritage and leaving her wand sheathed.

The Pureblood never saw it coming.

She pushed at his chest, and he fell against her office wall. She was on him immediately, pounding him hard with her fists and even catching his cheek when she realized her fists against his chest were ineffectual. Draco managed to grab one wrist, but the other flailed wildly and caught him across the side of the head.

“Holy hell, Granger, get a hold of yourself!” he shouted desperately, unwilling to admit this vixen was actually causing him pain, but unable to deny the ringing in his left ear.

She seemed to immediately calm at the sound of his voice, and he was able to grab her other wrist. He turned her so it was her back against the wall instead of his. Breathing heavily, he looked into her flushed and angry face, not relinquishing his grip on her wrists for all the world.

Hermione closed her eyes, completely ashamed of her outburst. She knew she would lose her job over this, and couldn’t believe she could be so selfish. She would even lose his friendship, and that hurt almost as much.

“Draco…I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to… attack you. I don’t mind that you don’t knock, I promise.”

Draco was astounded to hear that the reason for her brutal assault on his person was do to his familiar way of entering her office. Holy shit, he thought; what happens when I actually leave my underwear on her bedroom floor, or forget to turn the kitchen light off at night? Not really understanding why his thoughts immediately went to the domestic, he loosened his grip on her.

“Okay… you attacked me because I forgot to knock?”

She looked away, tears welling in her eyes, more out of frustration than sadness.

“Granger, I’m going to let you go now, but you have to promise not to kill me. I see you have a letter opener on your desk, and I just don’t want to die like that.”

She laughed in spite of herself, and promised that if she did kill him, it would be with more dignity. He let her go without stepping back from her. They both seemed to become aware of their nearness at the same time, Hermione staring at his chest before looking up into his silver gaze; Draco inhaling the scent of her hair, and nearly caressing her face when her whiskey eyes met his.

They only looked at one another, both unsure of what was passing between them, but both knowing they enjoyed it. Draco put one hand on her neck and jaw, and she leaned slightly into his hold. He bent his head as she raised hers, and their lips were centimetres apart.

Your first kiss should not be in an office, Draco. His father’s voice was inside his head, and he pulled back from Hermione, his breath coming fast and hard. Okay, let’s hope that never happens again, he thought as he opened her office door. Hermione looked bereft but slightly relieved.

“I promise to knock from now on, Granger. You have my word.” He slipped out of her office, closing the door behind her. He fell heavily into his office chair, just as she sank into hers. Both wondered what would happen next.