Diamond in the Rough

She sipped her tea and briefly looked over the front page of the Daily Prophet. The ministry seemed to be debating a marriage law to offset the alarming rate of squibs being born to pureblood couples and assuage the decline of the general magical population since the ending of the second war. She assumed that the ministry would encourage purebloods to marry both half bloods and muggle borns. The debate had been going on for what seemed like years and had truly become a hot topic over the last six months. Hermione also assumed the ministry would not be so foolish as to actually force marriages, perhaps just on the pureblood side. Given some of the attitudes, she had had to contend with, force most certainly would be needed to push the purebloods to consider marrying outside of their bloodlines. Not finishing the article, she pushed the paper aside to continue research on the latest project she had received from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

She had let herself settle into an obscure part of the ministry. She was responsible for extended research of case files the department considered pursuing and/or had taken. Surrounded by dusty tomes and parchments filed away in the underbelly of the ministry, Hermione spent her days pulling up ancient rulings and filings in support of the cases she’d been asked to provide additional research on.

She generally saw very few people in her day-to-day work so therefore she didn’t spend a whole lot of her time really caring about how she looked. She’d pull her curly brown hair up into a messy bun, often securing it with a couple of quills to keep it out of her face. The tomes she worked with were so dusty that more often than not she had dust spread across her nose, cheeks and on her robes by the end of the day. Her life was quiet, cerebrally challenging, and she liked it that way. She was slowly burying herself into anonymity which was a welcome relief given all the hubbub she, Harry, and Ron had to endure at the end of the second war.

Tiring of being in the constant spotlight, she longed for the ability to fade into the background, which she had done reasonably well over the last 6 years. Harry and Ron had gone on into the auror program. Harry married Ginny; they had their first child, James and were expecting their second child in about four months. Ron and she had fizzled out, dating heavily for about a year when she had gotten remarkably cold feet when it came to a permanent arrangement. Hermione couldn’t do it, she loved Ron but she knew she wasn’t in love with Ron. Several years after they had broken up Ron had ended up meeting up with Lavender Brown and sparks flew, they soon married and were now living close to Harry and Ginny.

Hermione would see them from time to time if she was not working during the weekends. Though lately, she had begun to make excuses to avoid their weekend family dinners. She loved her friends but was getting tired of suggestions of blind dates, or worse they had taken it upon themselves to invite single “friends” for those dinners. She had begun to feel an ache of loneliness that she wasn’t quite willing to acknowledge in the warm, domestic surroundings. After dinner, Harry would hold James and Ginny in his arms. Ron and Lavender were still wrapped in their honeymoon glow. She was happy for her friends but was becoming increasingly more uncomfortable. What mattered to them now were not the same priorities she held for herself.

She looked around her small, little office piled high with texts and parchments. She was comfortable, she finally had found her little piece of sanctuary and this law could potentially blow it all up. Picking up the Daily Prophet again, she perused the article once more. She knew this marriage law debate had actually been going on since the war ended. Truth be told, she really believed all it would ever come to would be just that a debate. If this law ever came to pass, she would consider playing the war hero card to ensure she had an exception to something so ridiculous. The last thing she needed was to have some pureblood, half blood or any kind of blooded husband underfoot.

Sighing, she tossed the paper aside and began stuffing her briefcase with her latest research project she snapped it shut and headed to the ministry floos. It was fairly late and the ministry building was almost empty as she walked through the atrium. Maybe she wouldn’t even be considered for this law. After all, she was barely noticed at work, maybe she would be barely noticed as eligible for this law if it came to pass. It might be a good idea to set up a meeting with Kingsley, as the Minister of Magic, he definitely pulled weight, it might be time to pull some of her trump cards to ensure she had no disruptions or upheavals in her nice, quiet life.

She briskly walked to one of the giant floos, when the handle on her briefcase broke, spilling her paperwork across the smooth expanse of marble floor. Sighing she began picking up papers here and there and knelt down to stack it back up again, when two highly polished black boots stepped up to her. Her eyes ran up the boots, framed by black, silk trousers, to an exceptionally fine black woolen cape held together by a green and silver entwined snake insignia. White blond hair spilled luxuriously across very broad shoulders. A faint sneer lifted the corner of beautifully shaped lips and she found herself staring into very cold grey eyes.

“Miss Granger, isn’t it?” Lucius Malfoy looked down his nose at her.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Hermione said woodenly. Damn it, of all people she had to run into. She picked up her remaining papers more quickly trying not to be so aware of him. He exuded power and raw masculinity. He commanded attention just by stepping into a room. She just wanted to head home, get a nice big cup of hot tea and sink into a deliciously scented bubble bath.

She reached for one remaining parchment when his cane came down hard on top of it. She barely had enough time to pull her hand out of the way. Shocked, she looked up at him incredously, “Mr. Malfoy?”

“You work here, do you not?” It wasn’t really a question. “What do you do here exactly?” He looked so very tall as he continued to look down his nose at her. The smarmy bastard was on the ministry board of directors. She was continually amazed at his ability to land on his feet without a blemish to his reputation. As much as she disliked him, she could not afford to anger him given his position within the ministry. She liked what she did, no one bothered her and she could research to her heart’s content. The last thing she wanted to do was call attention to herself. “I work as one of the independent researchers for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Sir,” adding the sir belatedly.

Silently she was hoping he would get bored, remember that she was beneath his notice, and continue onto where ever he had been headed. He looked at her for a long few minutes. “Indeed,” he said, as he lifted his cane from the parchment. She quickly pulled it towards her and pulled twine around her stack of parchments, securing them tightly. Standing up she tucked them under one arm and her broken briefcase under her other arm. Feeling his eyes heavily upon her, distinctly uncomfortable, she moved away from him and quickly walked towards the floo. “Mr. Malfoy,” she nodded her head towards him and was gone in a rush of green smoke.

He stared long and hard at where she had stood. She had changed somewhat in her appearance, now looking much more womanly than he remembered. She still had that outrageous disarray of golden brown curls and eyes the color of caramels, surrounded by sooty, thick lashes. Her face no longer held the plumpness of youth; she had high cheekbones and delicate features. She was tiny, coming up to the top of his chest, although her robes completely obscured her body from view, they were a disaster of course and had he actually seen quills in her hair? She had smudges of dirt across her cheek and the side of her nose. Given her appearance, he half expected her to say she worked for the Department of Janitorial Services if he didn’t know better.

He knew that the marriage law would pass; he’d been in many of the decision-making meetings himself. He also knew that having been a widower for the last four years, he was subject to that law as well. He had already run the matrimonial matching test using his blood and magical signature to determine which eligible female he would be saddled with. He was shocked when her name rose up above the official list of eligible witches.

At first, he was appalled having remembered the little girl from Flourish and Blotts who had absolutely no respect for her betters. Then with Slytherin hindsight he also recalled she had bested his son in every class at Hogwarts, graduating with the highest marks seen in half a century and had been a much loved war hero being instrumental in the defeat of Voldemort. This could definitely work to his advantage. He’d worked very hard to overcome ministry sentiment in regards to his regrettable past partnerships and alliances. He could still command attention but did not hold the same level of political influence he once had. She could help him regain his position and possibly better his previous standing.

He knew she had made herself virtually invisible over the last several years. Her research work was impeccable but she certainly was not vying for promotional opportunities. She also did not take advantage of her war heroine status to better position herself politically. He was intrigued; he wasn’t sure what motivated her. Something he could normally read in people after a few minutes in their company or perusing their personnel file. It took only a few glasses of fire whiskey to have his son begin to reminisce about her while in school and the many escapades she had gotten into. Snape still complained about her being the biggest know it all he’d hope to never meet again. He claimed she had been almost pathological in her need to showcase her knowledge.

After reviewing all the various advantages he could attain if he was tied to the little muggleborn, he decided no effort would be needed on his part to change the outcome of the matrimonial matching test. He began watching her. She came in very early and left very late, usually her face buried in either parchment or tomes. She seemed oblivious to the world around her, trying to blend in to the very woodwork. He’d been waiting for an opportunity to interact with her; stealing up to her after he’d spelled her briefcase to break had been ideal.

He smiled evilly to himself; she was probably unaware that the new marriage law had been passed this very afternoon, given her tendency for reclusivity. She seemed to favor burying herself in ancient tomes rather than current events. It had taken quite a bit of effort and money on his behalf, tomorrow she would receive an owl indicating the time of her appointment with the Department of Matrimonial Matches where she would be instructed to provide a few drops of her blood and her magical signature.

Undoubtedly, she would be surprised and possibly horrified; he smiled to himself, to find herself matched to him. After the war had ended, she made her feelings in regards to him perfectly clear when she petitioned the ministry to not allow prior death eaters to be admitted to the ministry board of directors. She had gone as far as having gathered 100 signatures in support of her petition. Poor little mite must have been tremendously disappointed when all her hard work was for nothing. Money still held power for the political. Her idealism must have been blown to the four winds. She was a diamond in the rough although she might not be aware of that. He was a Malfoy and if he were to be forced to besmirch his bloodline he would do it with only the very best.