The Bodyguard
(Rated PG-13 for coarse language, sexual references and mature themes)

Hello and welcome to my fanfiction - The Bodyguard This is the story of high-ranking ministry official Hermione Granger and her hired help (the bodyguard) Draco Malfoy. If you've ever seen the real life version of this story with the same name, you'll find it painfully clear that I've never seen the film, and that this story basically only has the same name as the movie (but even I know that Hermione Granger wouldn't ever pick singing over a ministry job).

Disclaimer: While I have no proper one, I'll give it a shot ... The characters Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy and all other people, things, etc affiliated with the world of Harry Potter do not belong to me, but to J.K. Rowling. I am making no profits from this story. Shows like Hack and other mentioned ones do not belong to me either, but to their creators, etc. Do not sue me. I own nothing (except for Tammy Harding - she's mine).

Summary: She was the successful, intelligent and influencal Ministry official. He was the trust-funded, but un-employed, handsome playboy. But when Draco Malfoy is hired as Hermione Granger's bodyguard, it's amazing that two people so different (with the hatred of each other to prove it) could fit together so perfectly in the jigsaw puzzle of life.

(I really am sorry if some of the information here is not accurate to the books ... let's just play make-believe and think that it is for the sake of the story)
So, without further ado ...

Chapter 1
- The Pedantic and The Playboy
Hermione Granger walked into the Ministry of Magic that morning with an extra spring in her step. To most people, work was merely a prison where the only means of survival were lunch breaks and gossiping (if you were a girl) or perving on the hotter workers (obviously if you were a guy). But to Hermione Granger, work wasn't that. To her, work was a fulfiling and valuing experience that ensured a difference to the world if enough work and hard labour was put in.

Hermione pressed the up button on the elevator as she hummed a Weird Sisters tune to herself.

Securing a job at the Ministry of Magic was like a dream come true - it gave Hermione a far more better chance at changing the world for the better. And, of course, the fact that she was getting paid a large sum of money for her work was irrelevant.
The elevator door opened and Hermione stepped in, her sensible work heels clacking on the tiled floor. As she did, four pale violet paper planes zoomed into the elevator and hovered around the elevator light as Hermione pressed the number for her level (two - Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters and Wizengamot Administration Service.

Hermione's job was at the Auror Headquarters, where her best friend Harry Potter worked as well. What she basically did was assign cases to the Aurors based on their abilities, experience and their suitability range. She was the one who, on happier notes, promoted people or congratulated them on a good case result. Sadly, she was also the one who had to scold those who did poorly, or even worse, fire them. She was the one who was calling the shots.

The elevator dinged and opened it's doors to level five (Department of International Magical Co-operation) and four people walked in, each greeting Hermione with a "Hello, Miss Granger!" or a "Morning, Miss Granger!". Hermione smiled in return and continued humming quietly to herself as the elevator continued to stop at all the levels until she reached her own. By this time, all other occupants were gone and Hermione was alone. She stepped out of the elevator and went for her office.

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement level was a busy one - paper planes were zooming around, people were buzzing with talk and there was laughing somewhere in the background, even though work had only just started. When she entred the room, the noise quietened down a little bit, and people resumed working.

Hermione was a woman of 24. When she had left Hogwarts seven years earlier, she had intended on being the Ministress of Magic. That would have worked if you ignored that fact that in order to be the Ministress, Hermione had to work for two years in an area where she had no previous experience in. Of course, none of the hard cases were assigned to her, but she did have to do the easy ones.

Hermione had chosen the Department of Magical Transportation and had spent two years of her life improving the Floo network and helping people in the Apparation Test Centre. Whilst she was promised a future there as a 'rising young talent whose groundbreaking thinking has kept Floo grates unbelievably devoid of any grime', Hermione went to work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and stayed there ever since. Sure, it really was crazy for her not to run for Ministress, but Hermione had always convinced herself at the end of the year that the next year would be the last. Now, she had been in the business for 5 years and was already at the head of it.

As Hermione walked along the tiled path until she reached the door marked 'President of Auror Headquaters - Hermione Granger', different Aurors tipped their hats or their wigs at her, some following her because they had accomplished yet another case.
It had taken her quite some time to get to where she was, occupation wise. Whilst some of the longer working office workers claimed that Hermione was one of the hardest working and quickest rising people on the level ever, Hermione seemed stressed that she wasn't THE hardest or THE quickest. She went from a measley little secretary in the office to become the President of the entire Headquaters, like mentioned before. This, of course, would seem a fantastic leap already and would have made most people dizzy from feeding their ego so much. But to Hermione, her rank was something that could have been accomplished in three instead, of five, years. Maybe she was just pedantic .

Sitting down in her squashy arm chair and pulling it towards the table, Hermione called in the first of the people that wanted to see her.

"Morning, Hermies," Hermione's secretary, and consequently one of her best friends, Tammy Harding, said as she walked in. Tammy was probably the only one in the entire office aside from Harry that was allowed to call her 'Hermies' anywhere.

"Hey, Tam," Hermione smiled as she grabbed a pen and started doing some of that evil filing.

"Alrighty ... Today you have Gary Tanner who has just completed his mission in Bristol, Leonie Manny who caught Pendle Oates in Oxford (I deeply suggest you promote the dear), Harry who's 'decided to waltz in because he felt like it' and Maria Gobs - she's just finished her Auror training and needs her first case." Tammy rolled off the list from her clipboard to Hermione, who was non-pulsed about all the extra filing she had to do, now that cases had been finished and there was another person joining the squad. And, of course, there was Harry - who she often referred to as her rock; the one who would keep her grounded and unable to throw her squashy arm chair or a person out of the window when she was stressed if Tammy wasn't around.

"Ok, send in Gary." Hermione said as Tammy unclipped the sheet she was previously reading off of and setting it onto Hermione's desk.

"In a minute!" Tammy said, drawing a chair and leaning across the desk. "Guess what happened to Mark and I last night!" Hermione giggled girlishly, but remembered her place.

"Not now, Tammy ... maybe during the lunch break." Hermione said, with her ever growing self-discipline. Tammy, however, didn't appear to have heard.

"Well we had a couple of drinks at the Hogshead--"

"Tammy! That's a shady place; it's simply crawling with --" Hermione interrupted Tammy, obviously forgetting her work pact.

"I know, I know, Hermies!" Tammy said in a 'Yes, I know, mother' tone. "But Mark and I went there anyway and we talked heaps and we had all these butterbeers ... I lost count how many. Anyway, we have SO much in common and we get along really well."

"That's great, Tam!" Hermione said, her work pact striking her again. "Listen, it would be even greater if you could tell me during the lunch bre--"

"And then, we went back to my place and I have to tell you, Hermione, Mark does the best-"

"TAMMY!" Hermione said rather sternly. Tammy stopped jabbering and started turning a bit red.

"Oh, right, Gary Tanner, yes ..." Tammy gave Hermione a weak smile which was quickly replaced with a cheeky grin that was their secret sign for discussing things later. Hermione returned it and wiped it off when Gary entered the room.

"Good morning, Mr Tanner." Hermione said, wheeling backwards in her arm chair to the filing cabinet to retrieve Gary's file.

"Good morning to you too, Miss Granger." Gary said. Hermione's fingers danced along the top of the files until it reached the one marked 'Tanner, Gary Eunice'. She pulled it out and put it on the table, shutting the filing cabinet and rolling back towards the desk.

"Tell me, how did the mission go?" Hermione asked. She got out a piece of paper from the file that was marked '6893472 (Pultzer, Wally) - Bristol, 03/09/04'. Hermione then got her favourite quill from her desk and waited for the details of the mission.

"I got him, Miss Granger!" Gary said proudly. Hermione beamed.

"Wonderful, Mr Tanner!" Hermione extended her hand over the table and Gary shook it.
"Thank you, thank you." Gary's smile matched Hermione's. She saw her quill pausing at the 'Details' section of the paper and decided to continue. "As you know, I had been following the suspect for quite some time, until I decided that action was imminent. After a quick struggle in the suspect's Bristol apartment in Horver Street, in which only a few but deadly spells were fired, I managed to detain the suspect and bring him into the eyes of the law." Gary spoke slower than usual, so Hermione could get it all down. When she set the quill down, Hermione once again extended her hand over the table and Gary once again shook it.

"This is quite fantastic, Mr Tanner!" Hermione smiled again and, with Gary watching quite happily, wrote '03/10/04' under the heading that read 'Captured'. "You should now be aware that you have one more case to go until you are promoted! Good luck to you, indeed, not that you seem to need it anymore!"

After assigning Gary to another case, Hermione put away his file and then called in Leonie Manny, who had also completed her case and received a promotion. Hermione assigned Leonie another case as well, and by this time she was in a higher spirit than before.

"Harry!" Hermione called. The door opened and the scruffy head wizard walked in and shut the door.

"Morning, Hermies." Harry said cheerfully, cheekily winking at her. He knew how much it made her laugh when he did it. Indeed, she did laugh and Harry smiled.

"Morning, Harry," Hermione said, kicking off her shoes - something she did whenever she was in a good mood. "What's up?"

"Oh, nothing much actually," Harry said, shrugging. "I just felt like talking." Hermione frowned. Whenever Harry said that, she knew that something was wrong in his life - most probably the one which included love.

"It seems that I should be asking what's up with Olivia." Olivia was Harry's latest - a saucy little minx that reminded Hermione strongly of Tammy. Olivia was a sort of man-eater wrapped in a cute and innocent exterior, and it seemed that Harry had succumbed. Harry sighed and then leaned back in her chair.

"Things aren't good." He said, taking off his now wire rimmed glasses and rubbing his eyes with his right hand.

"You broke up, didn't you?" Hermione asked, running her hand through her less frizzy brown hair.

"Yeah," Harry said, sighing as he put his glasses back on.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione let out a sigh as well before going over to her best friend and then hugging him.

"Yeah." was his response. Hermione's mind sprang to her own painful memory, but she pushed it away, convincing herself that she shouldn't be thinking of -

"There's plenty more fish in the sea." She reassured Harry soothingly in a bid to stop her train of thought. To that, Harry laughed harshly.

"If so, then I'm the fishing line without the bait." he remarked as Hermione stopped hugging him.

"Oh c'mon, Harry! If you carry on with this attitude, then you're never going to get a girl!" Hermione said as she flopped back down into her chair.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious." Harry replied dryly. Hermione winced.

"Sorry, Harry, but you really did need to know the truth. And that's the truth." Hermione said in her defence.

"No, I'm sorry. I bit your head off because Olivia left me for Oliver." Harry said. Hermione sniggered and Harry frowned at her. "That's not funny, Hermione."

"No, you're right." Hermione let out a nervous laugh and even Harry brightened up a little bit. "But it IS funny!"

"Yeah," Harry said weakly. He didn't appear to find it amusing though, because his face drooped back down.

"Look, Harry, why don't you get back to work? I find that when I'm going through a bad break-up, work is the answer." Hermione suggested, sighing.

"Hermione!" Harry moaned. "I have a bleeding heart here and spilling all my emotions to you, but you're telling me to do work!" "I'm sorry, Harry, but I'm also your boss as well as your best friend." Hermione said. "Evil overlord..." Harry muttered as he stood up. "What was that, Harry dear?" Hermione asked in a high-pitched, English voice.

"Nothing, Hermies!" Harry said in a matching tone. Hermione smiled to herself and then Harry walked out of the office, letting in Maria Gobs.

"Hello, Miss Gobs." Hermione greeted, offering Maria a seat before sitting down in her own.

"Actually, it's Mrs Gobs." Maria said meekly.

"Ahh, congratulations!" Hermione said jovially. "How long have you been married?"

"Three months."

"Oh, newlyweds!" Hermione exclaimed. At the mention of the word 'newlyweds', Hermione's mind sprang immediately to the muggle television show which featured that blonde singing poppette and her husband. With any luck, Maria wouldn't be spending time confusing tuna with chicken whilst a potential mass murderer would be escaping.

"Yes, things are going quite well." Maria said, fiddling with her hands a little bit.

"Mmm." Hermione pulled out Maria's file and wrote some things down. She unclipped a separate piece of paper and presented it to Maria. "Would you please fill out this survey about the Auror training program? We need your comments and thoughts to improve it."

"Oh; of course!" Maria said, pulling out her own quill.

As Maria started the survey, Hermione shuffled around with some other files, pretending to look like she was busy. In reality, she was thinking about Maria's status.
Work, education and the continuing thirst for knowledge overpowered Hermione's life, and so she never really had much of a love life, aside from Viktor and, well, the other one. When she graduated from Hogwarts, she had promised herself that she would find a man and a commitment by the time she was 30, so she could play then work and then play and work for the rest of her life. Of course, work was demanding as usual and Hermione found herself sitting in the middle of her apartment with take away Chinese food and a reality show on the T.V instead of showing cleavage and wearing heels in the clubbing scene. It felt very Bridget Jones.

Hermione's mind wondered over to the real relationships she ever had. Viktor was of course one of them. They had broken up in Hermione's seventh year because she found that she had to choose either a relationship or her education. She, being Hermione, obviously chose her education. Viktor understood; which was good. They still exchanged letters, with Hermione's perfect handwriting and Viktor's struggling English. But things were still good between them.

The other person was referred to as 'the other one' in Hermione's mind. But when she, Harry, Tammy or anybody for that matter talked about him, they called him Ron, like everybody should have. Hermione and Ron dated in seventh year, but it had sadly lasted for only a few weeks before they called it quits. They had taken a risk by going out with each other, because not only was Harry alienated (he couldn't get a single girl in that year) but because they knew that it might jeopardise their friendship. And, when they broke up, the two of them found themselves distancing from one another. At the end of the seventh year, Ron had run off with no idea on what he was doing; God only knows where he is. He left without saying goodbye and so Hermione dug that memory a hole in her mind and buried it there. True to her word, she covered herself in work and thought of nothing else. These days, when she found out about somebody breaking up (like Harry), or going out on a date (like Tammy), or somebody getting married (like Maria) she remembered that incident. She even found herself remembering as she was eating her Chinese take away on home whilst she watching that blonde poppette and her husband, and she felt utterly alone.

"Miss Granger?" Maria interrupted Hermione's train of thought with a whisper of a voice.

"Hm? Oh, right, yes Miss - Mrs Gobs?" Hermione asked.

"I've finished the survey." Maria gave the paper back to Hermione.

"Thank you. One moment, please." Hermione got up and started searching for the box marked 'Surveys', even though she knew exactly where it was. Her mind kept wondering back onto Viktor and Ron ... She mused to herself that it was the first time she had thought Ron's name in such a long time.

Oh, this was going to be a long day.


"Draco!" a voice rang out in the elaborate halls of the Malfoy Manor.

Draco Malfoy, the 25 year-old male equivalent of Paris Hilton, stirred in his sleep. The previous night, Draco had (once again) flung himself into partying hard with his usual group of partygoers. He had gone from club to club, drink to drink and especially girl to girl. And (once again) he had gotten smashed and went to another girl's apartment. This morning after, as per usual, was no different to any other one. There was yet again a throbbing headache (nothing a quick pepper-up potion couldn't fix, as he was well aware now), tousled hair and hatred of light of any source.

"Draco!" the voice repeated. Draco groaned and his arm flew out of the blanket in an attempt to smash his magical alarm clock, even though that wasn't making the noise.

"DRACO!" the voice rang out again and there was a dull CLUNK as Draco's alarm clock dropped to the floor. There was a sound of flung open curtains and sunlight filtered into the room.

Draco moaned in hangover frustration, and his arm went for the lamp.

"Oh, Draco!" the owner of the intrusive voice was apparently Narcissa Malfoy, who was staring intently out of the window. "How can you sleep in today?"
Narcissa was a tall woman with a willowy figure. She adored covering herself in silk when she was at home; and in Italian silk when she was going somewhere special. She was the sort of person who was elegant all of the time, and you could tell just by looking at her. Narcissa's attitude to her son's consistent partying was also elegant in the way that she wasn't about to jump into a headband/tube top and start partying and drinking heavily. But even though her attitude was elegant, it was also carefree in the way that when Draco came home smashed (it was always a case of when, not if), she acted like she was just Draco's friend and gave him hangover tips and everything. She wasn't a lecturing mother type, but more of a nagger, and that was probably why Draco was able to get away with such an exuberant lifestyle as soon as he got away from all the nagging.

"Wah?" Draco groaned in a heavily groggy voice.

"Don't sleep in, Draco!" Narcissa said in an un-maternal tone as she grabbed Draco's covers and pulled them off of him.

"Mum!" Draco sat up from his bed, red eyed, scruffy haired and croaky voiced.

"Oh don't complain to me, Draco!" Narcissa said frostily. "Besides, today is a wonderful day. Look at all those clouds and that glorious sunshine." It was actually quite rare of Narcissa to compliment anything as being 'wonderful' or 'glorious', but Draco ignored it.

"Oh, I'm sure it is, mother," Draco said dryly. "But I think that I'll look at 'those clouds and that glorious sunshine' later, when I'm not in the mood to kill somebody." Narcissa hmphed and then sat herself down onto the chair next to Draco's bed.

Draco thought privately to himself that his mother would have sprang up immediately if she knew what kind of things he had done on that chair with people .

"So how was last night?" She asked him, playing with the material of the armrests. She wondered why they were so chaffed, and made a mental note to hire somebody to repair it.

"Aww, Mum!" Draco rubbed his eyes and then fell back into bed.

"What? A mother can't ask her son how something went?" Narcissa shot back sharply.

"Not in that context." Draco replied, undeterred by her tone.

"Fine, fine. Did you have fun yesterday?" Narcissa rephrased, rolling her eyes. Draco grew suspicious ... after all, his mother usually never asked him about, well, anything unless it concerned purchases or anything superficial in which she came out the winner.

"Yeah, everything was great." Draco said. He actually wasn't sure if it had been a good night or not. All he remembered were nice tasting apple martinis and a sensational blonde girl called Candy.

"Good, good." Narcissa said, as if she didn't really care or wasn't listening. There was an awkward silence.

"Is there anything interesting that I should know about, mother?" Draco asked after a few minutes.

"Oh, no." Narcissa said in an extremely fake tone. Then she sighed. "Actually, there is ONE thing ..."

"What would that be?" Draco asked. He had a bad feeling about this. The same feeling that popped up whenever he felt like he was going to be told something that he didn't want to hear.

"I was reading the Daily Prophet one day and I saw an enquiry about a job there. They want a bodyguard for one of their officials, and I thought how wonderful it would be if you were to go for it." Narcissa said, continuing to pick at the material. Intuition: 1, Situation: 0.

"Get a job?" Draco asked. Narcissa nodded.

"It's just because you're so strong and nicely built, so you would make a fantastic bodyguard." Narcissa offered. Flattery was always the way for Malfoys, but this time what she said was true.

Draco had played Quidditch for a good three years professionally, but had stopped when he was booted off his team, following a scandal involving him, his coach, a bed and a wide selection of animals. Anyway, over that course of three years and his continual playing during school, Draco managed to build himself quite a physique and he had plenty of muscles, but not in the scarily obvious way of those body building people, but not in the extremely subtle way of dweebs with Hogwarts: A History, Compressed Version in their front t-shirt pocket. He was also a good six foot four last time he had checked, and his hair was now never gelled and kept in a sort of organised mess (but not at the moment because right now it was a tangled disaster zone). Not that his physical detail mattered much if he was going to be a bodyguard where the job mainly required muscles, height and a good physique.

"I don't want a job, mother." Draco said, and Narcissa scowled.

"There are lots of things in life that we don't want, Draco, and working is one of them. But unfortunately, we have to work, and you are no exception to that group." Narcissa snapped.

"I didn't have to work before." Draco replied in his crappy defence.

"Things change." Narcissa said coldly. Draco sighed and then Narcissa carried on with the details about the job. "What happens is that once you get the job, you'll have to follow the person everywhere except for the bathroom, where you will stand outside of their cubicle. You are to protect the person by any means, but the course of action taken must be appropriate for the situation. And finally, you are to live with your client until your duties are ful--"

"Excuse me?" Draco intercepted, hoping that his hearing was going after all that party music.

"Do not interrupt you mother!" Narcissa said. She sighed again. "What is it?"

"Did you say that I had to live with the client?" Draco asked in disbelief.

"Yes." Narcissa replied. She blinked. "Was that so hard to understand?"

"Why would I have to live with them?" Draco asked angrily. "What if they live in a dingy
apartment and don't have chefs or even proper food or entertainment? What should I do then?"

"You'll live with them!" Narcissa insisted. "Draco, however will you be able to enter the world if you have no survival skills? Even though you are a Malfoy and you will always be treated like one, you have to learn in case anything bad happens."

The keywords 'you are a Malfoy and you will always be treated like one' rang in his mind. Instantly, he knew that his mother had managed to bribe the Ministry into accepting him into the job. That; or she had good connections. Then again, she was Narcissa Malfoy, so she would have and had both done. He couldn't fight it now, and he knew that his mother only told him about this job because this was his warning on not to be late on his first day of work. Ever.

"When does this job start?" Draco sighed.

"I knew you'd accept, Draco!" Narcissa said, smiling ever so slightly. "It starts tomorrow at seven a.m." Draco blinked. He was never much of a morning person, and seven a.m. was considered as the unnatural hour. Seven a.m. was the stake to the vampire heart; the failed album to the artist and the 10.30pm slot to the T.V. show.

"I can't get up then." Draco said blandly. He had already planned another night of partying for tonight, and Dumbledore would be wriggling his naked butt in front of the entire student body of Hogwarts before Draco got up at seven a.m. the next morning.

"Draco!" Narcissa snapped. "This is your first ever job ... of course you have to be on time!"

"Not when it's seven a.m." Draco shot back. Narcissa sighed wearily.

"Your father and I have provided you with everything you could possibly want for your entire life. We gave you toys, brooms, clothes, house elves, your wand. Anything you wanted, you received without any argument. We even gave you life! And --"

"Mother, this is not a time for the birds and the bees talk." Draco interjected smoothly. Narcissa's mood shifted, and the topic of the argument did as well apparently.

"Not that you need it, Draco." she said simply. She stopped toying with the armrest material and then crossed her own arms before leaning back into her seat. "Tell me; do you not want this job because you don't want to give up your choice of lifestyle and consequently, girls?" Draco blinked. He was never one to be especially fond of his mother, so he wasn't one to suddenly say 'Yes mum, I don't want to work because all I want to do is shag girls all day and drink.' He would have said it to his friends without any trouble in the world, but to his mum it was different.

WAY different.

"Whatever do you mean, mother?" Draco asked, noticing that if his silence continued, then his mother would definitely get suspicious, even though she had evidently caught on already.

"Oh, Draco, don't play naïve with me!" Narcissa spat. "We both know what happens when you go out and don't come back for hours. You don't have to be as stupid as a mudblood to know what you do to keep yourself pre-occupied for so long."

"I have fun with my friends. We drink." Draco said simply. His mother's eyes glinted maliciously.

"So you like 'having fun' with more than one person, do you?" Narcissa snarled. Draco was immediately repulsed. There were some things that should never be discussed with a mother, no matter how close you were to them.

"That, mother, is none of your business." Draco said before he could stop himself. He knew that this would give his mother an impression that what she had accused him of doing was true. Narcissa's nostrils flared in triumph. Draco sighed this time and fell back limply onto his headboard. "Fine, I'll go to work tomorrow." Narcissa smirked superiorly.

"Wonderful, Draco." she said. "Now, when you are ready for the job, go to the Ministry, introduce yourself to the guard and tell them that you're the new bodyguard for the President of the Auror Headquaters. I'm sure that they'll show you to the office, and there you will meet your new boss."

"And my things?" Draco enquired in a defeated voice.

"Pack today, and then they will be sent to your boss's residence. Are there any more questions?" Narcissa asked. Draco shook his head and Narcissa rose out of her seat. She awkwardly set her hand on Draco's head in a very rare show of affection. "You're a good boy, Draco. Work hard." With that, she left the room.
Draco let out a big breath and then stared up at the ceiling. He found it both surprising and angering that a Malfoy, of all people, had to work in such a lowly job. He found it ironical that he would be working for the boss of the very corporation that had captured his father and shoved him into Azkaban. If his father knew, then he would obviously scowl or be filled with anger. That gave Draco a little comfort.

There was a knock on the door of Draco's room. Draco tensed, thinking that it was his mother and she was about to question him on his love life ... or sex life to be more accurate.

"Who is it?" Draco asked, making a fumbling noise to pretend that he was getting changed so he could at least send his mother away with a legitimate excuse.

"Drinky, Master Draco!" Draco sighed; it was only his house elf.

"Enter!" Draco's voice boomed. The door opened and the small figure of Drinky appeared.

"Drinky has Master Draco's letters." the house elf seemed scared of Draco as it approached and handed Draco the different envelopes.

"Leave." Draco said as he grabbed the letters. Drinky bowed his head and quickly exited the room.

Draco opened the first one half-heartedly. He was going to have to work. For the very first time in his entire life; so that he could make money. It was despicable.

Noticing that the first letter was an ad, Draco threw it aside angrily and then closed his eyes.

He had better get a letter soon announcing that Dumbledore had been arrested for incident exposure for wriggling his arse around Hogwarts.

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A/N: So there's the very first chapter; I hope that you enjoyed it! :) The second one is coming along quite well, so in the meantime ... REVIEW LIKE CRAZY PEOPLE! Every author loves reviews, and I'm ... just like the rest of them. )
I will give imaginary cupcakes and chocolate to those who do review as a reward. ;)

Your devoted fanfiction writer,
--Look at moiye, ploise!--

P.S. Here are a few thank you's .

J.K. Rowling ... the queen of the mighty "Harry Potter" empire. Without Jo, there would be no Harry Potter, and that's a very frightening thought indeed.

The writers of the T.V. show Hack. I hate the show, but I questioned myself over one particular episode one night and asked myself why a gorgeous late 20's-early 30's woman would ever fall in love with a grey haired, cab driver/ex-policeman. The words 'strong', 'protection' and, to a lesser extent, 'dangerous' struck me. And that small train of thought inspired this story. Thank you Hack :)