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kate04
Author of 13 Stories |
Full Summary: Draco Malfoy is sexy, rich, power-hungry and callous...or so everyone thinks. Hermione Granger is bright, beautiful, engaging and predictable...or is she? Can two people, with two seemingly different lives, find their happily ever after in each other? Or are fairy tales just too good to be true? Dramione. Please read and review.
A/N: Hey y’all. I hope you’re going to like this new story I’ve started. I know it has a lot of potential and I really hope you’ll stick around and see it through. I’m not going to say much right now, but let you get through the first chapter and let me know what you think. Thanks guys.
Kate
Disclaimer: This goes for the whole story – I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. I own only the plot line of this story. I do not make money from this story or any of my other stories. My only payment is your reviews. Thank you.
O.N.E
Hermione Granger glanced at the small silver and diamond watch on her wrist, scowled slightly and went back to tapping her carefully manicured nails on the table. Any other day of the week she wouldn’t have minded the quiet wait for her best friend to arrive, but today was different. Today she was in a hurry. Hermione glanced at her watch again, huffed and went back to her tapping.
Any person sitting around her in the small Muggle café would have no idea that Hermione Granger was different from them. They could never know, with a simple glance or the most intense scrutiny that she had grown up not knowing a thing about magic. They could never imagine what it was for her to find out at the tender age of eleven that she was a witch. No one would be able to know that she had spent six years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at the top of her class. They wouldn’t be able to tell that she had spent a year living in a tent and searching for Horcruxes just to help bring an end to Voldemort’s reign of power, so that magical and non-magical people could live in peace. They couldn’t know that she had been dubbed “the brains” of the Golden Trio or that she had gone back to Hogwarts for her seventh and final year a new person, but still the brightest witch of her age. It would be impossible to tell, by looking at her in this Muggle place, that Hermione Granger was more famous in the wizarding world than any celebrity was in the Muggle world.
No, no one sitting in the café in Muggle London would know that about Hermione just by glancing at her. However, what they would see is a beautiful woman. It had been a long ten years since the Second War had ended and Hermione had grown up; not only emotionally, which would have been inevitable, but physically as well. No longer did her chocolate brown hair frizz into a rat’s nest without even the slightest hint of humidity in the air, but fell in soft, curly layers down the middle of her back. Her dark eyes had softened over the years, but still held a sharpness that confirmed she was scrutinizing every little thing around her. Her smile was soft and warm, showing the whiteness of her perfect teeth; a bright contrast to her dark, tanned complexion. The year after the war ended, Hermione grew two inches and now stands at an even five foot seven. The additional height removed the last lingering inches of baby fat from her body and gave her the curves any woman would kill for.
Hermione had amazing fashion sense: Witch Weekly even had a reoccurring section based solely on the best outfits she had worn that previous month. Today Hermione looked cool in a crisp, white button-down shirt, tucked into a pair of dark blue jeans. She wore black leather pointy-toed boots on her feet and her black leather jacket was sitting on the back of her chair. The jewelry she wore was simple, yet elegant: the silver watch on her wrist, a small diamond hung from a thin silver chain around her neck and diamond studs in her ears. She wore little makeup, but what she did wear accented her best features. A light brown color on her eyelids pulled out the amber flecks in her eyes and the dark mascara made her lashes look long, full and perfectly curled. Finally a light pink gloss made her luscious lips look full and pouty. She was a sight for sore eyes.
However, the best part about Hermione is this: by looking at her one would assume she was snobbish and unapproachable, but this is far from the truth. She is kind, warm and outgoing, and completely unassuming of her looks. Though, in the wizarding world, she could be found on the covers of magazines and on all the gossip shows, Hermione seemed completely taken aback by it...confused even. When given a complement about her looks, she would smile and simply say, “Thank you, but I think you’re exaggerating.” And she would truly believe they were.
And even now she was immune to the stares she was getting from a table of young men to her right. Though, Hermione was finding it had to concentrate on anything at the moment – with the exception that her best friend was fifteen minutes late.
Taking a break from her finger tapping, Hermione reached out her hand and picked up her glass of water. As she sipped, her eyes never left the front door of the café. The moment her glass hit the table again the door opened and Ginny Potter walked through it.
Looking at her frazzled and seven months pregnant best friend, all of Hermione’s frustration left her and she stood up to pull Ginny into a crushing hug as she approached the table. A smile on her face she pulled back and exclaimed, “You are positively glowing.”
Ginny smiled, rolled her eyes and patted her protruding belly. “Glowing? Don’t you mean to say growing?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye despite the sarcasm laced in her question.
Hermione waited, a smile on her lips, as she watched Ginny ease into her chair, a soft sigh escaping her lips once she was settled. Hermione then sat down across from her. “No, I mean to say glowing. I know you may not feel it,” she said, pushing a second glass of water towards her friend who accepted it greatly, “but you look radiant. Pregnancy agrees with you.”
Ginny set down her glass after taking a large gulp of water and smacking her lips said, “I’m not so sure about that. If it agreed with me so much I wouldn’t be as sick as I’ve been.” Hermione nodded her head. She knew that Ginny had been struggling with horrible morning sickness since the beginning of her pregnancy and was unable to eat almost anything without it coming back up within a matter of minutes. She had even been hospitalized once for dehydration after spending nearly twenty-four hours on the floor in front of the toilet. Hermione could remember just how scared she had been for Ginny, and that fear had been mirrored in the face of Ginny’s husband, Harry. Those thirty-six hours at St. Mungo’s had been excruciating.
“But anyway,” Ginny said, waving her hand dismissively and breaking Hermione of her train of thought, “I feel better today than I have in a long time, so hopefully it’s finally going away.”
Hermione smiled. “That’s excellent news.”
Ginny nodded. “Yes, it is. And I apologize for being late. I needed to go to Gringott’s before I came to meet you. And wouldn’t you know there was a line a kilometer long. You’d think we were headed into one of those Muggle recessions the way people are taking their money out of that place.”
“We will if they don’t stop,” Hermione said, a frown furrowing her brow. “People just don’t understand finances Gin. When you sell off your stock and pull your money from your banks, you’re not helping to improve the financial situation or the unemployment rate; you’re only making it worse. If people would just wait it out and sit back and relax, all of this would blow over in a matter of months. People just need to get a financial advisor. It’s worth it in the end.”
Hermione knew a lot about finances; so much, in fact, that she had become a financial advisor after she had finished her schooling at Hogwarts. She was good with numbers and she was smart, which was exactly what a financial advisor needed to be. She worked for a small company in Diagon Alley called KR Consulting. It was run by a wizard named KR Reynolds. KR was a giant of a man, standing tall at six foot seven, and he was solid muscle. He had a hard, chiseled face and a loud, booming voice. Many people feared KR when they were in his presence, but the truth was he was an oversized teddy bear – harmless – and Hermione loved him like a father.
“And it’s okay that you were late. I understand. I just have an appointment scheduled for two o’clock and you know I’m not one to be late,” Hermione said, uncrossing and re-crossing her legs under the table, causing the table of men at her right to start drooling.
Ginny glanced at the golden watch on her wrist and laughed, “That’s not for another ninety minutes.”
“I know,” Hermione replied with a large smile. “But I haven’t seen you in how long now? I just wanted to make sure we had plenty of time to talk.”
Ginny chuckled and rubbed her belly. “We have plenty of time.”
“As you can see here Mr. Malfoy, the company’s stock has plummeted over the past few months. The wizarding world has somehow gone off balance and now feels that, in addition to the market falling, that our galleon is losing value. They’re selling off all their investments, taking their money from the banks and eventually could throw us into a depression,” the ferrety little wizard squeaked.
Draco removed his hands from his face and glared at the wizard, who stopped talking at once. “And of course the galleon isn’t losing value at all. We have laws that protect that from happening do we not?” The small wizard cringed at Draco’s tone of voice, but nodded his head. “Then what the bloody hell is everyone’s problem?”
“M-M-Mr. Malfoy, sir,” the wizard stammered, “I think people are just ignorant to our laws. Even though they are of magical blood, very few understand the history of our world, including how the value of the galleon cannot decrease.”
Draco pushed back from his desk and stood up quickly, pacing behind it. The wizard crouched back as if Draco would strike him. Instead Draco huffed and said, “Get out Mr. Breel. I need some time to myself.”
Mr. Breel did not need to be asked twice. He got up from his chair hurriedly and backed out of the room, lest Draco decide to throw some hex at him on the way out. Once the door had clicked shut, Draco pointed his wand at the door and muttered a locking and silencing spell. He dropped his wand back on the desk and let out a frustrated yell. He fell back into his seat and ran his hands through his hair, causing the already messy hair to stand up even straighter and messier.
In the years since leaving Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy had hardly changed a bit...or at least to the naked eye he hadn’t. He stood only an inch taller than he had in school, making him a nice six foot three. His shoulders were slightly broader than they had been and his body more muscular, but for the most part he looked the same. The most that had changed was how he wore his hair. He no longer slicked it back the way his mother had loved it, causing him to look horribly like a vampire, but now it was a little shorter, messier and slightly darker than it had been. He may be ten years older than he had been then, but he wasn’t about to start looking it.
To this day Draco still enjoyed the color black. He looked good in it and he knew it. And even though he worked the one color more than anyone else he knew, he still made it look good. Today he was wearing a black sports jacket over a black t-shirt and black, plain-front trousers. His black snake-skin shoes and platinum wristwatch were the flashiest part of his apparel.
Though Draco looked to be the same person he was ten years ago, and people still feared him as the son of a head Death Eater, he had made some vast improvements in himself. For instance, blood status no longer meant anything to Draco. He had even dated a Muggle for six months about two years ago and had found her to be completely engaging, smart and, not to mention, an exquisite shag.
It hadn’t worked out, however, because Draco hadn’t been in love with her; though not because of who she was, but because he hadn’t felt anything more than friendship for her. When she had uttered those three fateful words, he had confessed that he did not harbor those same emotions for her and broke it off. Since then he’d been setup with a few more Muggle women, including a cousin of Blaise’s. He had found all of them to be far too annoying to handle for more than one night, and had not continued the “relationships.” Although none of them worked out, it was a proven point that blood status was no longer an issue with Draco and this was only one of the many enhancements he’d made to himself.
Draco ran his hands through his hair again, groaned and hit a button on the intercom on his desk.
“Y-y-yes Mr. Malfoy?” Mr. Breel’s squeaky voice came over the intercom.
Draco pressed down the button again and said sharply, “I’d like to see you in my office.” In less than thirty seconds Mr. Breel was standing at the front of Draco’s desk looking forlorn. “I’m very sorry Mr. Breel, but this just isn’t working.” Mr. Breel’s face sunk even more and it made Draco feel horrible but, “It isn’t personal Mr. Breel. It’s business.” The little wizard nodded his head. “I need someone with more experience than you. It’s not that you’re a horrible financial advisor. You’re just not fit for this particular job.” Mr. Breel continued to nod his head. Draco sighed. “If at any time you need a recommendation letter from me, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
A small smile appeared on Mr. Breel’s face, though it didn’t touch his eyes. “Thank you Mr. Malfoy. I’ll be cleaning out my desk then?”
Draco simply nodded and Mr. Breel walked out of the office a little more sluggishly than before. When the door had closed behind him again, Draco ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He had now hired and fired three financial advisors in six weeks. He pressed the button on his intercom again.
“Yes Mr. Malfoy?” a sexy, seductive female voice said through the tiny black box.
“Amber,” he clipped, “Call Mr. Zabini and tell him I need to see him this afternoon if at all possible. Also, I need you to do a little research for me. Find me a list of the top financial advisors in the wizarding and Muggle worlds. I want it on my desk in thirty minutes or it’s your job.”
The cool voice came back, “Right away Mr. Malfoy,” although Draco barely heard it. He was now consumed in his own thoughts. He stood up from his desk and walked over to the large window of his office that overlooked Diagon Alley. Since the end of the Second War, Diagon Alley had taken on a whole new look. It was no longer only little mum and pop shops, but also huge buildings that offered the wizarding world all services needed to live an easy lifestyle. Draco was simply a part of that.
At the end of the war, Draco’s parents were both charged and convicted as Death Eaters and sentenced to life in Azkaban. Draco couldn’t have been more pleased. Though, in the end, they had seemed to care more about him than He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the damage had already been done. Draco held no respect for his family.
However, he was profiting greatly for being the only Malfoy left. Using the family money and name, Draco had started a company called Dragon Flying. Dragon Flying produces the world’s fastest racing brooms, as well as lesser grade models for all ages and flying experiences. It just so happens that the DF-6000, clocked at zero to eighty in two point seven seconds – and Dragon Flying’s most expensive broom, was used by all the professional Quidditch teams. Dragon Flying was also a major sponsor for the Quidditch World Cup, supplying each athlete with two DF-6000’s. Draco had been making money hand over fist in the last five years because of his parents’ wealth finally being put to good use, and he didn’t feel at all sorry about them not being around to see it.
Draco absentmindedly scratched at his left forearm through his sports jacket. Yes, the Mark was there, though it was barely visible anymore. Draco had been forced by his parents to take the Mark even before You-Know-Who had given him the awful job of killing Dumbledore. From what Draco understood, the Mark would never be as bright as the other Death Eaters’ because he had been forced into it. However, it didn’t make him feel any better about it.
Draco heard a loud roar to his right and turned to see the fireplace in his office burn bright green and Blaise Zabini step out of it.
“Draco, how are you?” Blaise asked stepping forward to grasp Draco’s outstretched hand.
“Not well,” Draco replied, gesturing for Blaise to have a seat in front of his desk and then crossing to his chair behind his desk and sitting. “I trust you’ve heard the new news that has turned the wizarding world upside down?”
“The galleon losing value?” he asked. Draco nodded in response. Blaise answered solemnly, “I have, though I don’t know if there’s much we can do about it I’m afraid.” He cocked his head slightly in amusement. “You don’t look at all happy. Are your stocks plummeting like the rest of ours now?” Blaise’s company, Zabini Labs, was the wizarding world’s largest supplier of pain relieving potions to hospitals, doctor’s offices and markets. His shareholders had been selling off their stock in bucketfuls for the past three months straight and Blaise had actually had to layoff one quarter of his staff.
Draco huffed, “It seems I am.” Unable to sit any longer, he pushed back from his desk and started pacing behind it again. “Doesn’t anyone understand finances anymore? It seems everyone is so caught up in the Muggle world that they’re starting to behave like them, causing recessions and shit. I don’t understand it.”
Blaise was examining his nails while Draco ranted. He sighed, “Yes, it seems people have become ignorant to our ways once again.” He looked up at the pacing Draco. “I heard you fired Mr. Breel.”
Draco rolled his eyes and continued to pace. “Amber can’t keep anything a secret from you, can she?”
Blaise chuckled, “It seems that she can’t.” He held up his hands in surrender when Draco shot him an annoyed glare. “I’m sorry, what can I do? I just have that ambiance about me. I reek of it.”
“You reek alright,” Draco muttered and then turned to Blaise. “What does Pansy think of all that bullshit you just fed me?”
Blaise chuckled again. “She doesn’t care much as long as I come home to her and I bring home galleons while I’m at it.” He went back to examining his nails. “So anyway, you’re in the market for a new financial advisor I take it?”
“I am,” he said. “What’s the word?”
Blaise was about to respond, but Amber took that moment to walk through the door, a large piece of parchment in her hand. “Mr. Malfoy,” she said as her tall, thin, blond frame walked through the door and seductively made her way to Draco’s desk. She turned her attention to Blaise and sashayed her hips more. “Mr. Zabini.” Draco watched Blaise wink and nod, causing Amber to trip slightly. Draco rolled his eyes and yanked the parchment from Amber’s hand.
“Thank you Amber,” he said dismissively. Amber nodded and then tried to recover her blunder by running a hand over Blaise’s shoulder as she walked out. Blaise chuckled as the door closed behind her.
“She’s something else,” he said, amusement in his eyes.
Draco was busy looking at the parchment in his hand. “KR Consulting,” he muttered.
Blaise stood from his seat and strode to the fireplace. He dropped floo powder in and the fireplace burned bright green again. Before stepping inside, he turned to Draco, “KR Reynolds is a financial genius. He’ll be able to help you.” Then he turned and walked into the flames.
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