Overture {Dramione}

Masquerade

Masquerade!
Run and hide -
But a face will
Still pursue you!

Malfoy was in a mood. An exceptionally bad one.

From the moment Hermione arrived and stepped off the lift into his loft office, it was quite apparent that his goal for the day was to make it as impossible for Hermione to get any work done as possible. He was one entire ball of rolling eyes, huffs, and snide comments.

Hermione's fist had gradually tightened around the quill as the minutes ticked by. Every dismissal of her ideas had put the writing utensil in jeopardy of snapping. She was writing notes furiously as he lounged casually in his chair, twirling his wand through his fingers.

He peeked over her shoulder at her paper. "No, no. That won't do, Granger."

The quill was holding on for dear life in her white knuckles. She reread her notes carefully.

"What's wrong with this?" Hermione huffed indignantly.

Draco snatched the parchment from the table and held it out in front of him as if reading an unfolded newspaper.

"T his reversal of the wolfsbane protection law has been a gross misuse of power and negligence on the part of the Ministry board and apothecary union," he read aloud, quirking an eyebrow over the top of the page at her. "You're not one for flattery, are you?"

Hermione snatched the paper back, smoothing out the edges with a sneer on her face. "I don't feel the need to flatter those who don't deserve flattery, Malfoy. That's a Slytherin trait."

Draco tutted, crossing his hands and folding them over his chest. "See, that's your problem. Getting what you want through means beyond honesty and integrity is not exclusively Slytherin."

Hermione snorted.

"I'm not suggesting threatening bodily harm. I'm saying that a little charm, a little schmoozing goes a long way. Especially with men like Poole and the other self-righteous bastards-- excuse my language, Granger-- on the board. Do you think they'd even entertain an appeal when it's based on insults to their character?"

Hermione tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, her tail tucking between her legs. He was right, of course. It was why she accepted his help in the first place. She was one for direct attack. Strategy built on action.

Malfoy knew the dance. Fluid steps and distracting footwork that got him exactly what he wanted while making his dance partner think they've gotten what they want too.

"So I have to kiss their arse is what you're saying?"

"You could call it that," he shrugged. "Or you could call it giving a little to take a lot. Here."

He stood suddenly, gesturing for her to do the same. With furrowed brows she complied, watching as he directed her to take his seat behind the desk. She did so, the wide-back leather chair that seemed to barely accommodate his shoulders and tall stature seemed to completely envelope her.

Draco stood in front of the desk, his palms down on the surface in a wide stance as he leaned forward. "We meet with the board in three weeks time. If you want to be ready, if you want them to even entertain us, you have to learn to speak their language. I'm going to reenter the room and when I do, I want you to pretend I'm a member of the board."

"Wait, but--" Hermione began to say, but he was already gone. She sighed, crossing her legs nervously in front of her.

A knock sounded and Hermione rolled her eyes. "Come in?"