Draco Malfoy (muddied) wrote in afic, @ 2010-12-23 06:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | !completed, character: draco malfoy, character: hermione granger, player: deb, x player: joan |
Who: Draco and Hermione
When: Thursday, 23 December 2005
Where: the accounting offices
What: Draco needs to meet his new accountant
Rating: PG
Status: completed
“Good afternoon, Mr. Dentremonte,” the receptionist greeted Draco with a smile. “I’m so pleased that you were able to come in this afternoon. You know Mr. Smith is sorry to shift your account, but he’s quite certain you’ll be pleased with the replacement. If you’ll go on down to the third office on the left?”
Draco smiled tightly. He had spent far too much time in the Muggle world in recent years. He could navigate the Tube, handle their money, and had even come to enjoy films. But every time he had to find a way to trust another one, it made his skin crawl. “Thank you, Maggie.”
As he walked away, he wondered if she ever suspected that there were something different about him. He dressed the part, in neat trousers and dress shoes, a jumper and a coat completing the ensemble. He had his identity set, with the help of Amelia. He had been using this particular accounting firm to handle his Muggle finances for years now, ever since he had started funneling his funds into the Muggle world to save them from the Ministry. But he would never feel as if he were a Muggle. He would always feel alien in this world.
He didn’t look at the nameplate as he rapped sharply on the door of the office that Maggie had directed him to.
Hermione Granger, on the other hand, had been born into a muggle’s world. She knew exactly how to use all their technology, how to dress like them. And yet, she felt just as alien from these people as she did from the purists in the magical community. They had no idea that she was a war survivor, they all assumed she was just the new accountant with a funny first name. And that was what she was for them, not knowing that she’d gotten the job through magical means. Means that Hermione was still deeply ashamed of.
But she sat in her office nonetheless, fidgeting in the deep plum blouse and tan skirt that didn’t quiet go together. Her frizzy brown hair was in a very simple pony tail, no makeup on her cheeks as she kept writing numbers down by hand, ignoring the world around her on a whole. She had a small office, but it was pretty enough with light blue walls and clean, pale office furniture. Her desk had a macbook and ledgers on it, two nice chairs sitting across from her. Behind her was a wall of books she had nothing to do with, most a little dusty. And somehow, her cat’s hair had still managed to get onto them.
She looked up at her next appointment came in. It was like time stopped for two seconds. She registered that it was Draco Malfoy almost in the same moment she reached for her wand, closing her door with wordless magic, and pointing the long device right between his eyes, lips going thin in an eerie likeness to McGonagall.
He might not have killed Dumbledore, but he was one of them.
“What are you doing here? You do realize that Harry has the entire power of the auror department behind him, don’t you?”
Oh, how absolutely lovely, to have to deal with both Potter and Granger in one week. Would the Weasel be left wrapped under his Christmas tree to complete the trio? Now that was a disturbing thought. Draco huffed a long suffering sigh. “May I suggest that if you intend to discuss things of a nature not intended for this office that you may wish to ensure our privacy first? I’d hate to have several years of identity building crushed by your fit of temper, Granger.”
A lazy smile quirked then, as he added, “Not to mention that if you attack as you seem to intend, the Ministry will have to investigate, and our tarnished treasure would lose more of her shine. Now, as my Christmas holiday has been interrupted by this meeting, which Maggie assured me was urgent, and I do have someplace else I need to be by tomorrow, do you think we could possibly discuss the business at hand?” One eyebrow arched as Draco ignored the wand and slid into the waiting chair with lazy grace.
Hermione wasn’t sure if she was impressed with Draco, of if she wanted to slap him. Either option seemed viable, and she knew from past experience that hitting Draco was a really very good idea. Hermione sat down slowly, her wand still clenched in her hand as she looked at Draco and felt her nose wrinkle a bit.
“You, have a muggle bank account?” she asked, cocking a brow and finding it hard to believe that Draco Malfoy, even a fallen Draco, was really going to ‘lower’ himself to muggle money. She drew up his files on the computer, trying not to snort at the name. “Dentremonte? Really? Do people really fall for you as... a writer?” she asked, her spreadsheets more than telling about the life of Draco Malfoy.
“Dentremonte,” he confirmed, giving the name the proper French pronunciation. “There wasn’t a name that meant between a rock and a hard place so between mountains had to suffice,” he added dryly. In truth, he’d drawn the name from Amelia, of course, but the meaning of it amused him as well. “And yes, I have a Muggle bank account, and have had such for a number of years now, long before Dentremonte began to publish. If you’ll look, you’ll note it was established early in the year 2000.”
One eyebrow arched again. “Do you doubt that I have a gift with language, Granger? Sales for Dentremonte’s first book were excellent, and the pre-order for the second, which will be out soon, lead me to believe it shall be quite successful as well.” He leaned forward, elbows against the desk, gaze intent as he leaned into her space. “I’m certain I could manage a personalized autographed copy for you, if you’d like.”
Draco wondered as he watched her work exactly how detailed his files were, in particular with regards to the flow of moneys between this account and the magical world. He knew the payments for his Wiggleschwarm nom de plume also flowed into this account. Not to mention the details of his arrangements in case of his demise, leaving everything to Alyssa. His jaw tightened as he realized that Granger, of all people, was holding the reigns to his family’s financial future. “This is not to be discussed outside this office,” he told her curtly.
Hermione chewed the inside of her cheek as Draco acted like this was perfectly normal, every fiber of her being demanding that she put Draco into a full body stiffening hex and call on Ron or Harry. But instead she sat and looked at the files, finding his money easily and seeing just how well the man was doing. “Your affairs seem to be in order, but my predecessor has retired from the firm. I will be taking over your funds, unless you would like to request a replacement,” she said, swallowing down a million comments about ‘and now, saying that I’m a mudblood will not fly with my employer when he asks why’.
But Hermione soon spotted a few holes in the counting, making her frown and turn back to Draco. “I seem to be missing a file about spending in November. I’ll be right back,” she said, standing, finding that she was quiet unable to help herself. “I just need to ferret it out of storage. I’ve left some documents I’ll need signed.”
Draco held out his hand in silent request for the documents to look through. His gray eyes were a storm of irritation as he watched her, chill in his reaction to the despised childhood nickname. “I never thought I’d see you in anything less than perfect order,” he spoke sharply. “I suppose I can be patient, but I do hope that this sort of delay is not what I shall have to look forward to in the future.” Because of course she would continue to handle his account; he was aware he had little choice, unless he wished to change firms. And he knew that Obliviating her was not an option; they’d take his wand for such an overt act.
“Go, find what you need.” He waved her away. “It will give me a moment to read through these.”
Being waved away was not something that Hermione Jean Granger enjoyed at all, but she gave a wide smile and muttered ‘of course not,’ taking her time in getting her files and coming back. She’d only recently been given Draco’s account, and this job hardly held her heart. But she returned in good time, despite herself, sitting back down and signing her own name. Things were sealed, final initials made before Hermione was forced to hand over a business card with her name and work number.
“Well, I suppose that’s it, unless you had any questions or requests,” she said, not sure if she didn’t want to alert Harry still. She knew that she’d be handing over a file of his financials to her roommates anyways. Perhaps it was an old grudge speaking more than anything, but Hermione still didn’t trust Draco further than she could throw him.
Draco watched while Hermione worked efficiently, and realized once again that she had his grudging admiration. She had always been bright, which was one thing that irked him so much, that she was Muggleborn and had been as brilliant as she was. He went through the paperwork as she did, for the moment setting aside the question of who she was in favor of what it was they were doing, so that the work could be done, and he could go back to Paris tonight. He had promised Alys and Amelia both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, and plans had already been upset enough that he had to leave earlier than planned on the latter, as well as this trip here. He would not disappoint again.
But he did have a question, a slow smirk tilting up his mouth on one side as he regarded her. “What, exactly, are you doing here? It seems quite a far distance for you to have fallen, trésor.”
Hermione wanted to wipe that smirk off of his face then and there, rolling her eyes a bit as she signed a document and handed it over to him. Her desk had a lovely bunch of flowers on them, a card for ‘R’ hanging within sight of both of them. Hermione sudden wishes it wasn’t there- she didn’t want Draco to know it was Ron, to mock her favorite part of that holiday season: Ron’s gift.
“I know that reading the newspaper must take away from your belief that the world surrounds you Draco, but I’m not actually a treasure anymore,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “It’s hard to find work when you’re an ST, as you have clearly learned, Dentremonte,” she finally admitted, allowing several beats between comments. She wanted to hit him. It had felt very good the first time around, and it was probably the best Christmas gift she could get Harry.
Draco’s expression never changed, a soft snort of laughter underlining the lazy smirk. “I’m aware of your status. I’m also aware that the Ministry are a bunch of idiots who can’t manage themselves, let alone Britain as a whole, nor can they recognize what they have in their hands. I suspect much of our world would be willing to find a way to have you on their payroll, even if it couldn’t be publicly. And this doesn’t leave you much time to lead a rebellion, does it?” One eyebrow arched again. He well remembered their fifth year, and how Hermione, Potter, and the Weasel had created their little army. Not to mention that she seemed to have been fighting the entire time he had known her. “I highly doubt you’ve stopped fighting the war now.”
He shifted in his seat, relaxing in a chair that had obviously never been meant for comfort. “Strange, isn’t it, to think that you and I have been branded by the same false freedom?”