The First Week

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you're worried for me, Granger."

Hermione flinched and hastily hid behind the nearest pillar she could find. She heard Draco release a huge sigh, followed by the unmistakable screeching of the chair, and his footsteps. Before she could completely dash out of the Muggle restaurant, Draco already found where she was hiding.

"O-oh, hi, Draco, what a coincidence, right? I didn't know you were also in this restaurant today."

"Cut the crap, Granger," Draco said with an amused smirk. "I saw you skulking around even before I got here. Now I know there's a reason why you weren't sorted in Slytherin."

"Besides the fact that I'm Muggle-born and your Founder hated people like me?" she asked with an innocent smile.

Draco sighed, but she was able to catch how his lips quirked up a bit in an almost smile. "What are you doing here, Granger?" he then asked, crossing his arms across his chest.

"It's lunch time," Hermione reasoned out. "Isn't it perfectly normal for me to spend my lunch break in this... this..." She gestured at the restaurant she surely hadn't been in before and spied the closest meal from her. "- this... sandwich place."

He was smirking down at her, still looking completely amused. "Yes, and you and I both know that you don't like sandwiches," he pointed out.

Hermione made a face, also quite surprised that Draco remembered this particular quirk of hers, before saying, "Fine, all right, I was following you."

"Because?"

She heaved a huge sigh and frowned. "Because nothing," she said. "I saw you come here and followed without thinking."

Draco merely lifted an eyebrow and Hermione knew she had no other choice but to concede and tell the truth.

"Ugh, fine, I was worried," she said, refusing to looking into Draco's eyes. Her cheeks reddened a little in embarrassment, not quite sure why she felt self-conscious with her confession. "I heard from some people that McLaggen was giving you a hard time and well, since I have some free time of my own, I decided to check up on you today. But then, I saw you eating happily on that table and debated whether to approach you or not. I also wondered if I should buy some sandwich or not, because gods, I hate eating them and – why are you smirking?"

If it were possible, his smirk widened, and Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"You knew I was following you so you chose this restaurant just to rile me up," she hissed in accusation.

"Probably," he said with a nonchalant shrug.

"You sneaky bastard," Hermione growled, her cheeks reddening more in annoyance.

A full blown grin appeared on his face, catching her quite off guard. "There's a salad place across from here," he said, then walked out of the restaurant, leaving a dumbfounded Hermione behind. She was only shaken away from her reverie when Draco had completely walked out the door, and she immediately followed suit.

"I hate you," she lamely said, prompting him to chuckle in response. Hermione felt a little bummed out she was caught spying on him. In addition, she was actually quite hungry and her Auror work for today had been stressful and tiring. All in all, it wasn't a good time to prank Hermione Granger.

Such thoughts were momentarily forgotten when they finally entered the restaurant and Hermione's hunger consumed her. She immediately ordered a Caesar salad, paid for her meal, and searched for Draco amongst the crowd. She spied him at one of the secluded corners and approached, annoyed that he still had that stupid smirk on his face.

"I was bloody worried for you, but then I realized it was stupid of me, because you're still acting as your usual self, bloody bastard," she greeted with the annoyed frown still on her face.

"Three curses in a sentence, Granger," Draco said, his eyes twinkling in amusement. "Rose will have a fit if she heard her mother talking like that."

Hermione merely sighed and deflated on her seat, annoyed and tired at the same time that Draco was being difficult today. It just backed up her worry that something was definitely wrong and he most likely wouldn't share what he was feeling right now.

"Would it really kill you if you tell me what's wrong?" she softly asked.

The smirk on his face fell into a frown. Before he could answer, their food arrived and they ate in silence.

As she ate, Hermione recalled hearing from one of her colleagues how McLaggen was treating Draco on his very first week in the ministry. Normally, she didn't engage in any gossip, most especially in her workplace, but she was quite worried of the blond. She really wanted to check up on him, but the Lestrange case had swamped her for the week. Hence, she settled on gossiping with her workmates, even if it made her terribly ill inside.

According to her sources, McLaggen had given Draco most of the menial desk jobs of the department. Hermione knew Draco would have hated that, remembering all his woes of working on the Malfoy business on his chair, in his study, busy with all the paperwork his company demanded. Of course, as a newbie, she knew it was perfectly normal to work on these menial jobs instead. But then, when she heard that the paperwork had him work overtime for the past seven days, Hermione became worried.

Peering at Draco right now, she fully saw how exhausted he was. The dark bags under his eyes were prominent, his high cheekbones a little sallow and grey. He was everything a sleep-deprived employee looked like and Hermione silently cursed Henrik McLaggen for being such an arse. She secretly added cursing Cormac because he was annoying, too, and Hermione still didn't like him one bit.

"I can hear your brain, you know," he pointed out after a few minutes of silence.

Hermione flinched in surprise, then sheepishly looked at Draco. "Yes, well, Harry and Ron used to tell me that my brain talks too loud," she said.

Instead of smiling, Draco sighed and leaned back on his chair. "Granger, I'm really fine," he finally said. "There are, admittedly, some minor inconveniences but they're nothing compared working under the Dark Lord. Although, McLaggen is a close second."

She knew she shouldn't smile at his bad joke, but Draco wore a lazy smirk on his face and she couldn't help herself. "I don't think the people in the Ministry would say what you are experiencing are 'minor inconveniences', Draco," she pointed out.

"I didn't know you engage in workplace gossip."

Hermione lightly blushed at his comment and glowered. "If it's the only way I can know how you are doing during your first week, then I'd gladly engage in them," she snapped back.

"You have more pressing matters to attend to than... than worry about me," he said, complete with an eye roll. "I'm grown up. I can take care of yourself. I don't need you to mother me, Mother."

"Merlin, Draco, why can't you just accept that some people are going to start worrying about you?" she asked in exasperation. "You're my friend. Let me worry about you."

His jaw tightened as something flashed in his eyes. Hermione was slightly taken aback at the sudden emotions on his face she could not decipher at all. But then, they were gone quite soon and she was once again staring back at the stoic expression of Draco Malfoy.

Hermione sighed. If only he would start opening up a little bit more, maybe things would be better for him.

And her, since she was such a worrywart and she bloody well hated it.

"McLaggen's being a git," he grumbled, shifting his gaze away from Hermione. "He works me like a bloody house-elf. If the Avada becomes legalized, he'd be the first one to receive mine."

Hermione smiled despite his morbid promise. "There you go, that's a start," she encouraged.

Draco scowled and looked back at her, this time with a light tinge on both of his cheeks. "That's the only thing you can out get from me, Granger," he snarled. "Now, go back to work before your department head finds out you've been slacking off because of me and gives me a hard time, too."

"Okay, but not before I invite you over for dinner tonight," she hopefully asked. It was honestly an impulsive thing to ask, and Hermione mentally cursed herself because she had to go home extra early to prepare more dinner for later.

That same expression on Draco's face appeared once more. This time, he was unsuccessful to hide behind his perfectly crafted mask and instead looked anywhere but her. Hermione didn't understand why he suddenly looked flustered with her request when she had always been asking him over, and he would always agree without any hesitation.

"Apologies, but I can't come over tonight," he replied. "I have some Malfoy business to attend to with Zabini."

"Oh," she said, confused with the sudden disappointment she felt. "Okay."

Draco nodded his head and stared right back at her. Her eyes widened a little at all the emotions on his face and watched as the blond promptly stood up from his seat.

"I have to go," he said. "McLaggen will kill me if he discovered I extended my lunch time."

He left without any further goodbyes, and Hermione was left staring at his retreating back in complete, utter confusion.

__________

Head buried under piles and piles of documents, Draco was starting to really understand that working for the ministry was a stupid thing to do.

McLaggen was extra harsh to him on his very first week in the ministry and Draco had an inkling Hermione backing him up with his acceptance had worsened McLaggen's impression of him. His coworkers had steered clear off him ever since his first day, which was perfectly fine with him because he wasn't really interested in socializing with them. One downside to his isolation was the fact that his job usually was slower because his coworkers weren't being too cooperative and prioritizing his papers.

'Which is okay,' Draco told himself a hundred times that week. 'Totally okay.'

The only person he had some semblance of communication with was McLaggen's twitchy assistant, Reggie Jones, and mostly it was because McLaggen had always sent him to give Draco more work.

Simply put, everything was a total disaster and he hated himself he didn't listen to his best friend.

Speaking of him, Draco still hadn't forgiven Theo for saying those blasted words to him the last time he dropped by in his house. He mentally cursed himself, remembering how he acted oddly when Granger joined him for lunch yesterday. The whole ordeal was cringe-worthy and he congratulated himself he merely broke down by the end of their lunch break.

Theo had really gotten into his head. When Hermione said she wanted to worry for him as a friend... when she invited him to another dinner in her flat... It was all too much for his poor heart and he knew he had to leave before he started to do stupid things.

Like profess that he may or may not have loved her ever since Hogwarts.

"Fuck you, Nott," Draco growled, voice still muffled by all the mountain of papers on his desk. His first week in the ministry was too stressful already and he didn't need an added stress such as feelings as of the moment.

"Mister Malfoy, are you slacking off?"

The blond inhaled deep through his nostrils before peeling away the papers from his head. Then, as calmly as he could, he looked at his boss and lightly shook his head. "Of course not, Mister McLaggen," he said. "That wouldn't look well in my record now, would it?"

Beardy narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously, and Draco half-expected that he would point his fat finger at his direction and accuse him of fixing another Vanishing Cabinet in his department to bring in his non-existent Death Eater friends.

"Meeting room. Now." He then left without another word and Draco was honestly disappointed there were no accusations that happened.

Sighing, he gathered some pertinent files into his hands and walked to the meeting room. He ignored the gawking and sat on his designated seat, cramped between a large man who occasionally breathes through his mouth (an accidental curse had permanently damaged his nostrils) and a woman in her early thirties who kept on fidgeting, mostly because of the anxiety of sitting beside an Ex-Death Eater. Draco had creatively christened them as Mouth Breather and Fidgety without even bothering to learn their names.

The meeting commenced and McLaggen yammered on and on about the usual department successes and failures for the last month and Draco found himself zoning out three fourths of the time. All he could deduce was that McLaggen was a proud man and he blamed all the mishaps his department had undergone for the past month to his employees. Draco had been sneering at him for hours, wondering why this buffoon was sorted in Gryffindor at his obvious lack of loyalty, but then again he didn't have enough brains to be sorted into Ravenclaw or ambition to be in Slytherin. Hufflepuff was definitely off the table because this man was nowhere near friendly.

McLaggen had stopped talking and was now glowering at him. Draco, with a jolt, wondered if he had talked out loud, also noticing how everybody was looking at him, too.

"Mister Malfoy," McLaggen called. "Do I need to repeat myself or do you not plan on presenting your proposal anymore?"

"Right," Draco said with a sigh, mentally cursing himself for being caught zoning out. He then immediately stood up from his seat and took McLaggen's spot. His boss was still glaring at him, which he pointedly ignored, and instead looked at his other colleagues.

Clearing his throat, he started. "I reviewed our finances for last month and noticed that the Department is spending too much on international travel," he started.

"I don't think that's surprising seeing we are the DIMC," Mouth Breather joked, prompting the other members to chuckle under their breaths. McLaggen's eyes lit up in amusement and smirked at Draco.

The blond tried his best not to roll his eyes and continued. "Of course," he said. "But I also reviewed the means of travel and noticed that our members opted to use International Portkeys most of the time." He brandished out his wand and waved it in front, projecting a pie chart of his presentation. "International Portkeys cost almost five galleons per travel and" – he waved his wand again, with a new bar graph projected – "since our department usually has 500 international travels yearly, International Portkey-ing will roughly cost us about 2,500 galleons a year."

"And?" McLaggen prodded. "I'm sure as the Malfoy heir that amount is just a smidge for you, Mister Malfoy."

Draco breathed through his nose and forced a small smirk on his face. "Of course," he said. "And perhaps the reason why my vault continues to flourish with riches may be because I know how to spend smartly."

McLaggen's beard twitched and Draco mentally cursed his stupid, stupid mouth once more. "What are you insinuating, boy?" he barked. The whole meeting room had gone deathly quiet as they all expectantly looked at Draco for his reply.

"What I'm insinuating is that International Portkey-ing is quite an expensive means of travel," he calmly responded, his eyes never leaving McLaggen's. "Which is why I'm suggesting that we build more fireplaces that will solely be for International Floo for travels and consequently visits from members of foreign ministries."

Everybody started talking at once, mostly protesting his idea, and McLaggen had started laughing quite loudly at his expense.

"International Floo?" his boss snorted, wiping away some tears of mirth from his eyes. "Are you out of your mind? Do you know how much it's building costs or do you need to do some computations first?"

Draco glared, waving his wand again, to project his plans on International Floo and how it would save the finance of this department. "Yes, I know, that it will be expensive to build these fireplaces," he said, his voice a tad louder to be heard amidst all the protests, "but in the long run, they would be handier and cheaper compared to constantly applying for International Portkeys. We have to apply for these portkeys a month prior to our supposed travels since it requires advance and complex magic. But, they do not consider the possibility of any cancellations of travels or extension of any dates. Doing these will also cost additional money, at least five galleons or so, and based on our travels last month" – he waved his wand again, a projected number now above the meeting table – "this department had roughly spent 10,000 galleons for all international travels, cancelled or not."

The noise had died down and Draco smirked at how dumbstruck everybody was.

"Blimey, even a Malfoy heir like me knew it is quite a lot," Draco said, directing these words to McLaggen, who bristled on his seat. "Although building fireplaces for International Floo Network may cost us more than a 10,000 galleons, their usage per travel will merely cost at least two galleons, roughly amounting to 1,000 galleons a year. Cancellation of travels or moving to a later date will of course cost nothing because you just simply don't waste any floo powder."

Draco felt like puffing out his chest when Fidgety was trying her very best not to smile at his comment.

"The American, French, and Japanese Ministries of Magic have already started transitioning to the use of International Floo Network more than Portkey-ing and their expenses had been decreased ever since," Draco added for finality.

"I see," McLaggen said, absentmindedly rubbing his bloated belly. "But, I'm sure you are quite aware that International Floo has a high incidence of mishap more than Portkey-ing, what with its vast connections and such. We don't want or members accidentally travelling to Asia when they merely need to go to France now, do we?"

Draco nodded his head, having thought of this problem beforehand. "I'm quite aware of that, yes," he said. "But, as what I've said, International Floo had already been promoted in America, France, and Japan and spellcasters were able to develop a spell that will ensure the safe, correct travel of our ambassadors. We may either just hire these said spellcasters or train our own."

Before McLaggen could answer, the door had opened and in came a frazzled Hermione Granger. "I'm sorry for being late, there was an emergency," the brunette said. She sat down on one of the farthest chairs in the table and smiled at Draco. "Please continue."

Draco stared at her, surprised that no one was batting an eye at the fact that Hermione Granger, a bloody Auror, was in their meeting. "W-what are you doing here?" he asked, scowling partly because he was caught off-guard with her presence and partly because he bloody stuttered.

Hermione lifted an eyebrow. "Well," she started, "as ministry employees that require a ton of travelling internationally, our department head thought it would be best if he sends representatives to DIMC meetings to discuss any international matters that the Aurors may be facing as of the moment."

She made perfect sense, but it still frustrated him that nobody had even told him that. 'Oh right, of course,' he mentally thought. 'I have no friends here.'

"If you don't have any more questions, Mister Malfoy, I hope you continue soon," Hermione said with a cheeky smile on her face. "Some of us are also needed outside this meeting room."

This time, Draco did not even bother suppressing his eye roll. He deliberately ignored the affronted gasps of his other colleagues and how Granger's smile widened.

"As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted," Draco said through gritted teeth, shooting a glare at Hermione's way, "to ensure the correct designation of the International Floo Network, we may hire some spellcasters or train our own."

"And who would train these people if we chose that option?" McLaggen asked. "Wouldn't we still hire spellcasters to train these people?"

Draco nodded his head. "Yes, but then I thought it will be more cost-efficient if we have our own spellcasters," he explained.

"A convention for Modern International Floo Network will be held in Japan next month," Hermione suddenly piped in, browsing through a set of documents on the table. "I did some of my own research and part of their program include training spellcasters for proper and safe travel. I'm sure if your department will be able to secure a spot in this convention, some of your members may already be certified spellcasters."

"I was getting to that, but yes," Draco snapped, glaring darkly at Hermione.

"If, of course, your proposal gets approved in the first place," McLaggen interjected.

Draco frowned at his boss, actually quite confident already that they would push through with his plans.

"Sir," the blond said, "I still believe this is a brilliant plan. We have other programs that need a bigger budget."

"This department had worked splendidly with just the use of International Portkey in the past, Malfoy," his beardy boss replied. "I'm not quite sure we are ready to transition to solely using International Floo."

Draco sighed and had to restrain the urge of running his hand through his hair. "But it is -"

"Your thirty minutes is up," McLaggen said. "Try pitching your idea on the next meeting again." He then looked at the other people in the room and said, "Santiago, come on right up here so we can discuss something more worthwhile, like our Christmas party."

His eyes almost bulged out of his sockets, feeling pure indignation, as Santiago, the Fidgety lady that sat beside him, stood up from her chair and strode in front. Draco, knowing he couldn't do anything anymore, stiffly walked out from his place towards his chair.

"Frankly, Mister McLaggen, I think your department's financial status is more pressing than a... Christmas party, yes?" Hermione sweetly asked, a small smile on her face, as she looked at Draco's boss.

The blond looked at Hermione with narrowed eyes, but the auror was too busy staring at McLaggen, who was starting to get a little uncomfortable on his seat.

"Why, yes of course, Miss Granger," his boss spluttered, "but I think switching to International Floo and building more fireplaces is more troublesome than using the good ol' fashioned International Portkey."

"The DIMC had been asking for an increase in budget for renovations of certain rooms in this department but have always been denied," Hermione said. "Don't you think your expenditures have something to do with it?"

McLaggen's beard twitched again, but the smile on his face was unmistakable, if not a little unsettling. "International travel is quite expensive," he reasoned out. "DIMC cannot help spending if they need to do their job."

Hermione raised an eyebrow and leaned slightly forward, so she could fully look Henrik McLaggen in the eye. "Do you know why the Auror Department have wonderful toilets or swivelling chairs you coveted so much, Mister McLaggen?" she inquired, an innocent smile on her face. "A little bird told me that some speculated it's because The-Boy-Who-Lived and the Golden Girl are being given special treatment."

Draco knew if McLaggen's face wasn't covered with hair, he would be as red as a tomato right now.

"I think it is more of because our department knows how to spend wisely and not carelessly throw our money on some good, ol' fashioned things."

McLaggen was a spluttering mess and Draco kind of felt bad for him. Kind of.

"Oh, look at the time," Hermione said with a suddenly dazzling smile on her face. "I apologize but this Golden Girl needs to go back to work now. I hope to hear some progress on Mister Malfoy's brilliant plan. Good day to all of you."

Suffice to say, the room was reduced to silence even after Hermione was completely gone from the meeting room.

__________

"What the hell were you thinking?" Draco growled as he finally cornered Hermione in one of the break rooms in the ministry.

"Oh, and hello to you too, Draco," Hermione greeted with a pleasant smile on her face.

A low growl escaped from the blond's mouth, his hold on Hermione's arm tightening. "What the hell happened in that meeting?" he snapped.

"I just backed up your bloody ass," she replied, growing annoyed. "Why are you getting so worked up on this?"

"Granger," he grounded out, "I don't need you to fight my battles. I can do it on my own."

Hermione sighed and pulled her arm away. "I know that, Draco," she said. "But I seriously think your plan was brilliant and McLaggen was stupid enough to brush it away. I mean 10,000 galleons for International Portkey alone? No wonder their requests for renovations are being denied."

"Damn it, Granger, I knew it wouldn't be approved on my first try," he snapped, crossing his arms against his chest. "It is a huge deal. A huge change. Of course this would make McLaggen uncomfortable, which is why I will try to search for other means to convince him."

The witch frustratingly ran a hand through her hair and glared. "I've talked your plan over some of my auror colleagues and they thought it was brilliant," she said. "I just want McLaggen to know that your proposal may give him the swivelling chairs he bloody wanted."

"Yes, thank you for your heroic rescue, because now he hates me more than before and thinks I'm too cowardly to stand up for my own proposals." Draco had some sense of smugness when she withered with his words. "Now, I'm quite sure the International Floo Network wouldn't be realized in the near future. On a bloody brighter note, I got Mouth Breather for our annual Secret Santa and now I have to find a gift for him."

Hermione mouthed the nickname, but knew not to comment on it. Instead, she said, "I'm sorry, Draco. I wasn't thinking what the consequences would be with my action."

"You should be," he spat. "Bloody Gryffindor's always going headfirst in fights without thinking about it clearly."

"Oh Merlin, now I feel bad," she groaned. "I just... I got so mad when I saw McLaggen and my mouth wouldn't stop working." Remorse filtered on her face. "I think I need to talk to McLaggen and apologize for my behavior in the meeting this morning."

"Gods, Granger, I want you not to do anything anymore," Draco said, pining her with a glare. "I'll do something about this. I can handle this. Just... just don't come swooping in and rescuing the day."

In spite of herself, she lightly smiled. "I'm really sorry, Draco, for making this harder for you," she sincerely said, followed by a sigh. "I was... I was just really worried."

"You know how she'd do everything she could for the people she cared about."

Draco colored, Theo's words once again ringing in his ears, and he scowled. 'Not now, Theo,' he thought.

"So, am I off the hook?" she hopefully asked, a pretty smile on her face. Draco thought it was bloody unfair.

"If you start rescuing me from other office bullies, I'm going to stop going to your dinners all together," he warned, a serious glint in his eyes.

Hermione emitted a mock, hurt gasp and placed a hand over her heart. "Oh, Draco, that would be devastating," she said as she tried to fight a smile.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Quit it," he said, although missing the menacing tone he wanted to project.

She then fully grinned. "So, will you go to our dinner tonight this time?" she hopefully asked.

He debated whether to come, still quite unsettled with Theo's enlightening words. But, admittedly, he thought it was kind of her to back him up against his dastardly boss and well, he did miss Rose already so – "All right. But I can't stay long. I still have a mountain of paperwork to finish."

"Okay!" she exclaimed. "See you tonight, Draco!"