All characters belong to JKR

Summary: Hermione Granger is running for Minister of Magic, and she thought it was going to be an easy win...until Draco Malfoy decided to put his hat in the ring. Now, she not only has to deal with reporters and photographers, following her every move, but she also has to deal with a stupid idiot named Draco Malfoy.

She really, really hates him sometimes...and why in the world does he keep telling her he loves her? This will be either the dream job of Hermione's life, or a complete nightmare.

Runner-up Best D/Hr Riddikulus at the New Library Awards! Thanks to all who voted!


A Very Special Election


AnneM Oliver


Chapter 1- Hermione really hates Draco Malfoy

Hermione Granger, scholar, war hero, hard worker, respected member of the Ministry of Magic, was a very serious woman. She was currently walking with Harry Potter, down the corridor on sublevel three of the Ministry, heading for her office.

"I thoroughly hate that man!" Hermione shouted, slinging her office door open and kicking her shoes off her feet. She walked around to her desk and put her head down on her arms. "I hate him, hate him, hate him!" she said, banging her fists up and down on the desk.

Her assistant looked confused for a moment, until Harry Potter walked in the office. "She's ranting about Draco Malfoy," Harry explained.

"Of course, I should have known," her assistant said with a smile. She walked up to Hermione and said, "Don't forget, you have to go to St. Mungo's later, for the dedication to the children's ward."

"Fine, I remember," she said, waving the woman away with her hands.

Harry picked up the current issue of the Daily Prophet and said, "I'd like to know where they come up with this rubbish." On the front page was an article about Draco Malfoy, and the fact that he had just donated two million galleons to a war orphans college fund. The problem was that Hermione had worked hard to raise one million galleons for the same charity. She had worked for weeks, soliciting funds, raising money with silent auctions, a marathon, and other things, and the night before she was to present them with the check, Draco Malfoy offered them two million galleons, from his own money! Now if she offered them her money, it would seem that she was copying him, and also, the fact that his donation was a million more than hers, would belittle her offer considerably.

"Hermione, you know, your offer will still help the charity significantly. I know its rotten luck that Draco took your glory, but you had to know this would be a dirty election the minute you decided to run against him for Minister of Magic."

Hermione took the paper from Harry's hand and threw it in the fireplace. "If I didn't run, he would be your new Minister. Would you like that, Mr. Potter? I really do hate him."

"I know you do, Granger," said a voice from the doorway. "Is she very angry?" he asked Harry.

"Let's put it this way, Malfoy, enter at your own risk," Harry said. He turned to Hermione and said, "Shall I stay?"

"No, I don't want any witnesses," she said.

Harry smiled, patted her cheek, and turned to Draco. "It's your funeral, Malfoy. See you later, Hermione."

Hermione sat at her desk and looked up at Draco. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to come and see if we could arrange a little debate, you and I, to be hosted by the Daily Prophet, you know, your views against the right views, mine. Let the constituents see both candidates, so they can make a valued opinion on who they want as the next Minister of Magic." He sat in a chair by her desk and put his feet on the corner.

She walked over, pushed his feet off and said, "Get out of my office!"

"This is an office? Really? I thought it was a cubbyhole. So, about our debate," he asked.

"No," she said. She pulled on his arm, to make him leave her chair. He hit her hand away.

"Stop touching me, Granger," he laughed. "I might get your germs."

"Hello, Mudblood in the room." She waved her hand in front of his face.

"I meant your uptight, liberal germs. I like Mudbloods now, at least, if I'm asked that question by the media, I do," he laughed. She glared at him. He stood up. "Come now, are you still upset that my rather large donation overshadowed your little paltry donation?"

"My donation was one million galleons, and you must have had a spy or something to know which charity we were going to present it. You're despicable, and I truly hate you," she said.

"You can still give them your money, unless you were just doing it for show, and not out of the goodness of your heart," he offered.

He was right. She would have to do that. "You're right."

"Goodness, where's the media when you need them! I'll never hear you say that one again. Our debate is next weekend, at the Milton Hotel Ballroom. I'll have my campaign manager owl you the time and the guidelines," he said, standing to leave.

"I'm not debating you," she said. She sat back in her seat.

"You concede already? Splendid. Then may I take you out for a victory lunch? Your treat?" he asked.

She stood up, stomped her foot like a five year old, and pointed at her door. "Leave my office!"

He smiled again and said, "See you later, Granger." He started to leave, but turned back around and said, "Oh, and by the way, even if you really do hate me, which I really don't think you do, I really do love you." He turned back around and laughed as he exited her office. She picked up one of her shoes from the floor, leaned out her office doorway, and chucked it right at his head. He turned in time to catch the blasted thing, and yelled out, "Seeker's reflexes, remember?" He tossed the shoe in the air, caught it again, and took it with him in the lifts, still laughing for all he was worth, which was a lot.

She slammed her office door so hard that the glass in the door shattered into hundreds of pieces.

She didn't care what anyone said, she really did hate him.

Hermione worked late into the night. She was undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, Percy Weasley, who because of health reasons had to retired in a few months. The Ministry decided to hold a special election to see who would replace him. For the longest time, there were no candidates, so the Minister and his cabinet decided just to name a replacement. They immediately thought of Hermione. She had worked hard for the Ministry for the last six years. She had her degree in law. She was young, that much was true, but she was dedicated and honest, two things that were often hard to come by.

On the eve of their announcement, Draco Malfoy, president and CEO of Malfoy Global Incorporated, made his plans clear that he intended to run for the position. Everyone in the Ministry, as well as most of the public, was shocked by his announcement.

Draco Malfoy had been nothing but a media-seeking playboy who was not known for his judicious side, or for his care of politics. He would rather open a nightclub, than pass a law, but the Ministry had no choice but to open the election, and hold the special election after all.

In the beginning, Hermione was not even going to run. While she was flattered by the fact that they wanted to name her Percy's successor, she was going to turn them down anyway. She felt she was ready for a change in careers. She was almost 29 years old, on the eve of 30, and she didn't want to wilt away, grow old if you may, in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic. However, just the thought of Draco Malfoy winning and becoming Minister of Magic if no one ran against him, made Hermione's blood boil.

They had never been friends. They hated each other in school, where, by the way, Hermione was always number one and he was somewhere in the middle. It was not that he wasn't smart, he just didn't care, which in Hermione's mind was ten times worse. Then, at University, Hermione majored in Magical Law, while Draco majored in partying. In fact, he probably got his PHD in that blasted subject. Their paths barely ever crossed, so Hermione paid him no mind until that day….oh, that fateful, awful, dreadful, terrible day.


It was Graduation Day, and Hermione was graduating top of her class, with a degree in Magical Law, and another in Muggle Relations. She was set to give a speech at their graduation. All of her friends were present, Harry and Ron, who had both already graduated from Auror training, Ginny, who was married to Neville now, and expecting their first baby, her mother and father, her boyfriend, Anthony Goldstein, and every single one of the Weasleys. Yes, life was fine, and they were all so proud.

Then it happened, and it was all Draco Malfoy's fault, and Hermione would someday make him rue the day that he crossed Hermione Granger.

It was a few moments before she was to take the podium. She had her speech memorized, (she must have practiced it a hundred times) but still, she was going over her note cards, one by one, practicing her speech, in silent hushed whispers, when she heard a noise behind her.

She turned, startled, and there he was. Draco Malfoy, graduation gown on, haphazard, a bottle of firewhiskey in one hand, and a stupid rose in the other.

"Hey, Granger," he said. "Happy Graduation." He walked up to her and handed her the rose. She threw it on the ground.

"What are you doing back here? You should be out there with the other graduates," she said. She turned away from him and looked back at her note cards.

"What are you doing back here, Granger?" he asked, amused.

"I'm getting ready to give my graduation speech, moron," she retorted. She turned to face him again and said, "Are you drunk?"

"Why?" he asked. "Do you care if I am?"

"NO," she almost shouted. She turned away from him. He took her arm and turned her back around.

"Don't touch me," she seethed.

He pointed his finger at her chest, and then touched her shoulder, her arm, her face, and her head. She flinched and hit his finger away. He kept saying, "touch, touch, touch, touch." He laughed.

"You are drunk," she said, pushing him so hard that he fell over. "Its graduation, Malfoy, why are you drunk?"

"Its graduation, Granger, why aren't you?" he asked back. He sat on the ground and brought the bottle back up to his mouth. She bent over, took the bottle from him, and smashed it against the wall.

"Get back out there, and graduate like a normal person," she said, as she tried to help him to stand.

As he stood, leaning against the wall, his arm around her shoulder, he said, "You aren't as ugly as I recall."

"Gee, thanks," she said scathingly. She let go off him and he staggered.

He said, "You have a whole parade out there to see you graduate, don't you Granger. Yep, the Mudblood has half the hall filled with her supporters."

She looked away from him and said, "Don't call me Mudblood, you stupid blueblood." She turned back to look at him and said, "You must have people out there."

"Nope, not a one," he said. He looked down at the broken bottle and he picked it up. "Why did you have to do that, Granger?" he asked, holding up the broken remains. "It was my only friend."

"That's your own fault," she said. She climbed the stairs behind the stage, and waited anxiously for the Dean to call her name.

"Ouch," Malfoy said from behind her.

She turned around and saw that he had cut his finger, rather badly. It was dripping blood. He held it up, laughed, and said, "Look, Mudblood, my blood is red, and you thought it was blue." He looked woozy, and then said, "I feel kind of funny, Granger. I don't think I like blood very much," and he slunk back down on the ground, his usually pallor more green than pale.

"…And now we give you, Hermione Jean Granger." Hermione heard the Dean say.

"Malfoy?" Hermione looked back at him. He was sinking lower, and he looked up at her.

"I feel sick," he said.

The applause from the crowd was dying down and the Dean said her name again. She started to climb the stairs, as the applause started again, but looked back down at him. He looked up at her and said two words, "Help me."

She bit her bottom lip, ran back down the stairs and said, "Malfoy, just stay right here, let me give my speech, and then I promise, I'll take you home."

As she started back up the stairs, one of her professors ran down off the stage, came backstage, and said, "Come on, Miss Granger, everyone is waiting for you."

She started through the curtain, but looked back at him. He looked up in her eyes and said, "Please help me, Hermione."

He called her Hermione, and she had a distinct feeling he meant he needed more than just help with his nausea, or cut finger, or alcoholic stupor. He meant he needed 'help'.

She had worked so hard for this day, and even if she did turn around and help him, he wouldn't be grateful, and he would never say thank-you, hell, he probably was so drunk he wouldn't even remember. And her friends and family were waiting for her, and she had worked on her speech for three weeks, and, and, well, damn him to bloody hell.

Should Hermione give the professor her speech, and ask him to deliver it and give her apologies, and then go and help the stupid prat? Or should she tell Malfoy to wait until after her speech, and then she would aid him whatever way she could.

Whichever she picked could affect her for the rest of her life, so she knew she had to pick wisely, and she only had a moment to decide.