Hermione hasn't seen Draco in years, and she's glad. Even if she helped save his sorry ass from Azkaban, it doesn't mean she likes him. She hasn't forgotten all the years of torment. And then he walks into her office unannounced and offers her a job better than any she could ever dream of. But there's a catch - it's for Malfoy Industries, for Draco himself. Unable to pass up the opportunity, Hermione accepts, and her whole world is turned upside down.

"Malfoy?" she asked, the irritation in her voice quite evident. What is Merlin's name was Draco Malfoy doing in front of her apartment at midnight? She approached him in order to get a better look at him. She was quite sure that he was thoroughly drunk; she could smell the alcohol emanating from him from meters away. Of course there were other telltale signs. His posture was slouched and unsteady. His clothes were rumpled and unkempt. His hair was disheveled. Those piercing grey eyes of his were dilated. Yes, he was quite drunk. Tom must have just kicked him out of the Leaky Cauldron. The question was... Why the bloody hell was he in front of her apartment? "Granger!" he drawled. He hiccuped directly after. Oh, yes, he was just as smooth as he had been back in Hogwarts. How attractive. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here?" "I 'unno," he stammered, his brow furrowing in confusion. He was absolutely sloshed. "Figured I'd find a quick shag before work t'morrow." "Sod off, Malfoy. You're a drunken prat... Let's go," Hermione grumbled, wrapping an arm around his waist. She took his arm and laid it across her shoulders. She started off towards the stairs at the back of Flourish and Blotts that led to her apartment. "Gettin' a little frisky there, aren' you, Granger," Malfoy drawled, a smirk spreading across his lips. "Only in your dreams, Malfoy." "I wouldn't dream about fucking a mudblood," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. A/N//: I do not own Harry Potter. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling. Further description following.