Some Things Change

Draco avoided Hermione for the next week.

She didn’t understand it, but she suspected it was because of his childish antics regarding the owl attack. She was, admittedly, a little disappointed in him. It would have been nice if he’d been able to prove his maturity by dealing with it with a little more aplomb. But at the same time, she was glad to see his perfect mask slip a little. It gave her a little relief, knowing he had flaws.

It was all too easy to forget that, given his impeccable appearance.

However, she could not tell him this, and he continued to go out of his way to stay out of hers.

Hermione had finally been able to master Flooing again, so it was almost easy to forget that her magic had essentially abandoned her, now that she could get to work without injury. Not much of her job needed magic, though she noticed it was a little more difficult to get owls to send her missives, so she took to giving them entire doughnuts as payment, instead of normal small owl treats.

Being Muggle-born, it was a little easier to adapt to life without magic. No one else seemed to be experiencing it, except when Draco had briefly mentioned it, so she tried to ignore it in the hopes that it would go away. She tried researching a little on what could cause such a thing, but there was a myriad of possibilities, and she simply didn’t have the time to troubleshoot them right now.

Families had to be fed, after all. Elves freed, and so on.

Hermione had tried cornering Draco in his office to feel out exactly what was going on with him. This cold shoulder was a little excessive just because he had embarrassed himself in front of her. Not like he hadn’t done it before, she recalled. A bloody nose and quivering lip above her wand in third year at Hogwarts was proof of that.

But he’d merely continued writing, barely acknowledging her presence. He’d been polite, but would not answer her about why he was avoiding her. He denied it, and asked if there was anything else. In a fit of pique, and distinctly recalling how she’d almost attacked him the week before in her own office, Hermione stomped out gracelessly.

Two can play this game.

Draco was a little disturbed. He had this feeling; more than a feeling, it was a feeling. And it was telling him to back off Hermione Granger. He couldn’t explain it—it was like two parts of himself were battling. Half of him wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and snog the living daylights out of her, and this half of him also cringed at his callous treatment of her. But the other half was telling him to stay away. No reasons given, and when he examined himself, he found absolutely no motive for this change of heart. He still wanted her, desperately even.

But Draco had a hard time ignoring his hunches. They usually steered him straight, and drastic things often happened when he ignored them. But this was different than his conscience, which often wormed itself into his head in his father’s polished drawl, as annoying and disconcerting as that was. This was more like a feeling deep in his bones. And it wasn’t just that he felt like he should stay away, but that the time wasn’t right. He had this odd sense that he just needed to give them both some space, and then everything would be okay.

This fact that his intuition told him it was only a matter of time was the only reason he listened to the compulsion at all, since he was certain he couldn’t and had no desire to avoid Hermione forever.

So he would give them a little break, for whatever reason, and hope she wouldn’t grow to hate him in the interim. It couldn’t hurt to humour his hunch for a few days, after all.

Draco gave a long-suffering sigh and dropped his head into his hands. His head ached, and he decided he would just go home for the day. He wasn’t getting any work done anyway.

There was no reason for him to be in her office. He’d thought up a decent excuse while he was in the elevator, but it escaped him now. All he could think about was her delicate, ink-stained fingers grasping the quill in a death grip, marking the page with angry slashes. All he could smell was her unique scent intoxicating him. All he could hear was her soft breathing, which escaped in huffs when she came across another apparently angering segment of the parchment.

She finally noticed his presence and started in her chair.

“Mr. Malfoy! I’m so sorry, were you waiting long?” She gestured for him to come in, and he stepped inside her office, closing the door behind him. She had the office all to herself for the time being, her officemate having taken a few too many unauthorized sick days. Normally she luxuriated in the privacy, but now with Lucius Malfoy standing in front of her desk, she felt a fleeting need for a witness… or alibi.

“Not at all, I only just arrived.”

She nodded, and he sat in the chair before her desk. He leaned his walking cane against the desk, and she held back a smirk. Only Lucius Malfoy could pull off such an ostentatious show of pomp, but pull it off he did.

Shaking her head to clear it of such thoughts, she smiled patiently at the man in question, waiting for him to make his reasons for his presence known.

The silence stretched on. Lucius seemed to be looking into her very soul, but Hermione could not look away. She was struck by how different his eyes were from Draco’s. Draco’s were a light, cement grey, flecked with darker streaks. Lucius’ were a slate grey with no relief, no flecks or anything. Just impenetrable grey.

“Miss Granger, I have a client…” Lucius paused, unable to believe his own presumption, using the same excuse on Hermione that he used on his son the last week as an excuse to talk to him about Hermione. Nevertheless, he continued, “…who would like to make some substantial donations to various charities, but does not have time to do individual research. Do you think you could—?”

“—put a donation package together? I’d be happy to! How much is he looking to donate? Does he have any particular interests? Is he interested in Magical Creatures, or perhaps a Muggle-born scholarship fund or something of that nature?”

As she was speaking, Hermione was throwing pamphlets and flyers together in a heap on her desk. When she was finished, she began to sort them by category, making comments on them with magical Post-its, and stapling and clipping everything together.

Lucius marvelled at the difference between her approach and Draco’s, who had calmly created a package of only a few choice materials.

“I’m not sure of his interest, so perhaps a bit of everything?” he encouraged.

She nodded distractedly, and pulled a few more papers from her desk drawers. Once the package was complete, and at least four times the size of Draco’s, Lucius realized his time with her was coming to a close.

He wasn’t entirely certain of his own intentions, but he suspected the Slytherin Death Eater part of himself was holding the father’s head under water for the time being.

“How is Draco?” He asked casually. “I went to his office but he wasn’t there.” This much was true; Lucius had stopped by his son’s office with the intent of taking him to lunch.

“Actually, he went home early today. Other than that, I’m not sure how he is—fine, I suppose.”

“You’re not sure? Are you two not…?” He waved his hand in the international gesture for ‘you know what I mean.’

Hermione glanced up at Lucius once she finished writing one final note. He looked genuinely interested, but she sensed an ulterior motive. She scoffed: with someone like the elder Malfoy, she doubted there were primary motives at all.

“Well, no, we’re not…” she repeated his gesture. “We were, I thought, but now…”

Lucius gave himself a minute to be sorry for his son in case he was unhappy with the break up, but rallied himself immediately. He’d told himself he’d ask Draco before he made a move in such a situation, but… maybe just a lunch?

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said warmly, and she smiled her thanks. She got up to hand him the package and see him the short distance to the door. He allowed her, but as she reached for the doorknob, he took her wrist and held it.

“Miss Granger, I wonder if you’d like to have lunch with me today. I had a lunch meeting, but it was put off, and I find myself famished.”

Hermione was shocked; Lucius never gave her any impression… or maybe he had, and she was too thick to notice. It had been known to happen; she wasn’t very in tune to the intentions of men. And even though she’d been seeing his son, Hermione didn’t feel as awkward about it as she thought she should. Lucius was incredibly handsome, and was always so polite to her… and Draco was being such a dick lately….

She bestowed a bright smile on him, and Lucius’ breath was stolen. “I’d like that. I usually eat in the Ministry cafeteria around one.”

Lucius smiled patronizingly, and said, “I’ll be here at ten to one, then.” And we shall not be eating in the cafeteria, he added mentally.

He left a slightly dazed Hermione in his wake.

True to his word, Lucius arrived exactly on time. Hermione had had time to think about what made her agree to his invitation, but the more she considered it, the less she understood. She really liked Draco… the kiss they shared had really lit her on fire. And more than that, she’d thought they’d had a connection.

But apparently she’d been wrong, if his treatment of her lately was anything to go by. It was possible the kiss wasn’t as good for him, or maybe he just wanted to be friends.

Hermione sensed that wasn’t the problem, but she couldn’t help feel slighted, and being scorned played a major part in her acceptance of Lucius’ invitation.

He stood in the doorway of her office, and smiled at her. “Ready?”

“Sure.” She grabbed her purse. Lucius offered her his arm, and she hesitated a moment before taking it. He led her out of the building, and before she could ask where they were heading, Lucius gripped her in a tight hold, and they Disapparated.


Lucius looked around himself. He still had Hermione in is arms, and made no move to release her, until she squirmed a bit and he had no choice.

“Where are we, Mr. Malfoy?” Hermione didn’t recognize the street or stores.

“Please, call me Lucius,” he said distractedly. It was possible something had gone wrong. Not likely… just possible.

“And, well, I don’t exactly know.”

Hermione stared. “How can you not know, you Apparated us!”

“Yes, I did. But I meant to take us outside Guilleme’s, a French restaurant in the High Wizarding Quarter. Not… wherever we are!” He chuckled, sounding a little exasperated. “This is rather embarrassing.”

Hermione felt a sinking feeling. Whatever was affected her and Draco had also affected Lucius. What is going on here?

Lucius took her into his arms again, and Hermione felt a shock when his hand graced the bare skin of the nape of her neck. His hand was warm and slightly softer than Draco’s. Merlin, comparisons are not to be made!

They Apparated back to the Ministry, arriving not at the Apparation point, but almost half the street down. Neither made any comment on the strangeness of the occurrences, but Hermione could tell Lucius was unsettled.

“I apologize, Hermione. Would you mind eating in the… cafeteria?” The word took on a derisive slant, and she suspected he’d rather go hungry. But she was intrigued by him, and wouldn’t let him off the hook that easily.

“Yes, let’s.” And so they did.

Lunch was an interesting affair. Lucius retrieved food for both of them, sandwiches and salads, and Hermione sat at a bistro table toward the far end of the open space. She took in all the astonished faces that watched Lucius crossing the distance, red food tray in hand. She hid her snicker behind her hand at his highly held head and indignant glare, and he placed the tray on their table and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Hermione asked, since he didn’t look like he intended to.

“I haven’t decided.” Oh, for goodness’ sake! Another pouter.

Hermione tucked in. She was starving, and the sandwich actually looked really good. After she took a few bites, Lucius reached for his and ate it with nary a scowl. They spoke a little about Ministry policy, and Hermione had to contain herself before she mentioned the budget fiasco. She knew it wasn’t his fault, but she found it hard to resist pestering him about it. They also spoke about trivial things, and had an easy conversation.

Lucius was very congenial, and walked her back to her office. Hermione had been quite surprised to discover they had a lot in common, and she quite enjoyed spending time with him. He wasn’t bad to look at, either, as her brain consistently reminded her.

At her office, he took one of her hands in his, and raised it to his lips. He brushed a kiss softly against her knuckles, and Hermione could help the flush that spread over her cheeks. She hastily looked away. He raised an eyebrow at her reaction.

“Thank you for allowing me to take you out. I’d really enjoy doing it again, maybe for dinner?”

Hermione nodded. “Maybe dinner.”

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Author's Note: Thank you reading! I hope everyone is enjoying the build-up. This chapter is dedicated to my faithful reviewers, VoraciousReader, Alina, and angeles. Thank you!

And thanks, of course, to my awesome beta, kazfeist!