Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Empire	By : waymay & Alcoholic_Rootbeer Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 12290 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the characters written in this story; everything belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling. I don't make any profit from these stories!

Chapter List
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A/N: I just want to say thank you so much for all the kind reviews and hopefully answered some of the questions you have in this chapter. :) Once again, thank you Mr. Benzedrine for helping me with the chapter and pitching ideas and proofing! You're amazing and bouncing ideas off you is always super fun! :D Hope you all enjoy this chapter~ Until next time.
Morning arrived slowly for Draco; mostly because of his epic hangover and mysterious wounds, but also partly due to the letter he received in the middle of the night. At some point during the evening, Draco managed to get in some form of sleep. And when he woke up, panick struck him as he scurried off his bed, ignoring the throbbing pain on the sides of his head, searching for the letter he received. He'd dreamt it was just a dream and another chance of redeeming the Malfoy name gone. Of course, it's what he gets for getting himself drunk and hungover. He was still excited over it -to think someone, after all the fiasco, was still interested in helping him achieve his goals. It made his head spin like the alcohol from last night's festivities.
Draco stood in front of the mirror while adjusting his emerald green satin tie. He fashioned a light grey button up and a slate grey suit. Silver eyes reflected back at him as he continued to look over his clothing of choice. The suit was cut to precision (nothing less of Malfoy standards), bold across the shoulders, with gentle lines around the waist. Draco tugged on his button up, pulling out the cuffs of his shirt, making sure they were showing.
Back in Hogwarts, Draco would often wear his hair slicked back with his mother's favorite hair salve. Looking back at old photographs,he cringed as he realized that the salve made his hair appear oily. Thankfully, he'd somehow managed to gather a sense of fashion in his adult years. He still wore his hair longer on top, though he combed it upwards and a bit to the side instead of back, while keeping the sides shorter, reduced to a long stubble, to accentuate his high cheek bones.
He made his way over towards the dining table in another room, re-reading, for what felt like the thousandth time, the letter, making sure it truly said what it said -that it wasn't merely a figment of his imagination. His heart would skip a beat each time he finished reading the letter. At the table sat a steaming hot coffee, freshly brewed by the employees, and next to it, an empty potion vial with the label, 'Cure-All,' assumingly to get rid of his hangover from the previous night. His broken nose was fixed and black eye removed using the Bruise Removal Paste he (discreetly) purchased at the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. As much as he'd hate to admit it, the thing worked wonders.
Draco nodded to himself in approval as he straightened his posture and tidied up the seat of his attire. While he made a point to dress nicely on a day-to-day basis, he was not often seen in a business suit. In fact, the only times where he remembered having to wear one was at the Yule Ball and the trial post-War. Regardless of the event, Draco in a suit was, definitely, a sight to be seen.
While he looked calm on the outside, his heart beated a mile a minute -drinking coffee sure didn't do much to ease his nerves. He took a deep sigh and held his right hand out. "Hi -Draco Malfoy. Please to mee- No..." He shook his head, drying his clammy palms on his suit pants, and then stuck his hand out once more, "Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. It's my plea-" He groaned, throwing his head back, "I'm trying too hard. This should be easy!"
He paced back and forth, muttering to himself, "Deep breaths. Just stay calm and be your charming self." He tried to remind himself if this one didn't work out, there would still be plenty others that would be interested in working with him -it was just the matter of finding the right partner.
Draco looked at the clock. Wait, what? It's only two in the afternoon? Why did he get dressed so early?
Although Hermione stayed up late writing the letter to Malfoy, she was still able to make it into work on time, unlike the Weasley brothers, who always found an excuse for their tardiness. Since there was a minor disaster in the office yesterday, Hermione made sure to work extra hard. And when she did manage to find time to take a break and run into her git of an ex-boyfriend, she purposefully sent a glare at him -secretly hoping to burn a hole through that thick skull of his.
Ron, despite his usual obliviousness, kept clear of the witch all day. He didn't have to look at her to know she was wishing him bad juju. It was the smart thing to do; George warned him not to mess with the wrath that was Hermione, since Ron would often forget what it was like.
Her wand buzzed, snapping her out of concentration. Hermione looked up and tapped her wand, something she charmed several years back, and a near hologram-like apparition faded out from the tip, blinking "5:30," indicating the current time. She tapped it once more to turn it off.
Hermione sighed. Just thirty more minutes before she was to meet up with her future partner. Maybe it was from the lack of sleep last night, but she was nervous. She'd been nervous all day, though she kept herself busy.
She gathered up her paperwork, stacking them neatly into a pile before sliding it all into her bag. Another sigh escaped her lips as she tried hard not to give into her jitters. "Everything will work out," she gave herself a pep talk as she made her way over to the fireplace across the room, "You're Hermione Granger! There's nothing you can't do." Reaching for the woven bag that was sitting on top of the shelf above the fireplace, she grabbed a handful of fine powder and tossed them into the roaring fire. The once red flames changed into an emerald green, indicating that it was safe to travel. She stepped in and cleared her throat, "Three Broomsticks!"
It was a quarter till 6. The last four hours nearly crawled by; each minute passed slowly as if Draco's heart was making laps around time. It'd been some while since Draco felt this anxious meeting someone. It was weird, but, for some reason, this felt like the right partner, though he had no Earthly idea who it might be.
He looked down at the note in his hand. It was another letter sent to him by his soon-to-be partner. Being interested and not wanting to lose an opportunity on another partnership, Draco immediately responded (as soon as he was well enough, of course), asking how he would recognize them if he was given no name. The reply was simply, "You'll know when you see me." Perhaps he'd met this person before. The thought both thrilled and terrified him. What if this was someone out for blood? No, he reminded himself. This was a potential business partner, and he ought not to worry himself with such trivial thoughts. Regardless of whether the meeting turned successful or not, curiosity definitely got the best of him. Now, he only prayed it wasn't some cruel joke just to get his hopes up.
He pulled out a golden pocket-watch from his suit and flipped open the lid. 5:55. Might was well go in now.
With a deep breath, he pushed opened the door to the Three Broomsticks. Of all the places his potential patron picked, it was the one littered with Hogwarts students and professors. However, much to his surprise, the pub was empty, save one other person, and not even the server was present.
At least he wouldn't have issues picking his partner out of the sea of people that would usually be here.
The mysterious figure sat all the way at the other end of the shoppe, their back turned to him. They didn't even bother looking up when the door chimed open. As Draco stepped closer, he began to realize his potential partner was actually a woman. She had narrow shoulders and a slim frame -and from the looks of it, wide hips, too. Her hair was long and curly, and though the pub was dark, she looked to be a brunette. Hopefully, her face was as attractive as the rest of her body.
With newfound confidence, he straightened his back and squared his shoulders. Draco walked with resolve towards the figure, and when he finally approached her, he cleared his throat, grabbing her attention. "Good evening, Miss-" She turned around, and Malfoy froze, his jaw wide open as he stared at the woman before him. "Granger?"
Hermione turned to the voice that rose an octave higher at her name, somewhat entertained by the expression on his face, though he quickly replaced it with a cool facade. "Eve-"
Before she even had the opportunity to respond to Draco Malfoy, who she knew was in desperate need of help, he retorted to his own exclamation, "You must be at the wrong place. Hop on out of here, will you? I'm waiting on someone rather important, and I don't need to muck it all up by being seen with you."
Well, so much for a good impression and a can-do attitude.
"Actually," She stood from her seat, a wide smile planted across her face, "I was the one who contacted you!" She tried to maintain a positive demeanor, but she could feel herself trying too hard already. Keeping a neutral attitude towards Malfoy wasn't something she had ever attempted before, and she found it rather difficult. But if Harry could do it at his trial years back, she could do it now.
His brows furrowed as he continued to stare at her. "What?"
"Malf-no, Dra-, Mmm.. No, Malfoy, I can explain," Hermione stumbled over her words as she tried to figure out how to address him.
"No, there's no need for that." He threw his hand up to silence her. "This," he gestured between them, "Is, obviously, some practical joke." Humiliation written across his face, he turned away to leave the Three Broomsticks.
Hermione mustered up her courage quickly and planted her hands on her hips. "Draco Lucius Malfoy," she spoke sternly; it always worked on Ron and Harry. "You sit your fanny down. Now."
His nostrils flared at the sound of her using his full name, and his eyes widened, bewildered, at the fact she even had the galls to use it in this sort of situation. Malfoy stared at her, unmoving, as if he was calculating his next move. A silent war raged on between the two of them, and after another moment, he caved. "Fine -but you only have ten minutes. I don't want to be seen sitting next to you."
Hermione rolled her eyes, "Ten minutes won't be enough. We're discussing very important topics here. If ten minutes is all you gave your old partners, then I'm not surprised why they all gave up in the end." She straightened her robes, pulling lint balls off the fabric, "So, I've been reading in the papers, about your businesses-"
"-Is that why you want me here?" he sneered. "To sit me down and laugh in my face? Is that why you sent the letter?"
"I am not Ronald Weasley!" Draco snorted at the mention of his name, to which Hermione rolled her eyes."And If you let me finish, maybe you'll know that I'm not here to gloat, but to speak business with you." She could feel herself losing patience with the insolent man-child. She huffed, taking in a deep breath. Two minutes hadn't even passed, and the two of them were bickering like school children. "I don't know if you're aware, Malfoy, but I've been helping the Weasleys out with their joke shoppe-"
"Really?" He feigned a laugh. "The Hermione Granger -stooping so low as to help the weasels out with their store? What happened to the witch that wanted to 'change the world'? Are you doing it through snot-cicles and rubby o'chickens? How clever."
"Don't be a twat!" She slammed her hand down on the table. Instantly, she regretted it. "Look Malfoy-" Hermione sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Was it supposed to be so tiring dealing with him? "-I'm not here to rub anything in your face. I'm here as a businesswoman, and I'm here to help you create a successful line of products."
"Truly?" he asked, his tone disbelieving. "Alright then, prove it."
She blinked at him. "I'm here. What more proof do you require?"
Malfoy rubbed his chin, no doubt lost in his dubious thoughts. Then a wild smirk crept up the sides of his lips. "Refer to me as 'Malfoy-the-Magnificent.'"
"You… want me to… what?" Hermione's mouth fell open, flabbergasted.
"If you're serious about wanting to help me, you'll do it. If this is all some sort of ruse, I doubt you'd stoop yourself so low to keep the act up."
Though she was furious at his request, she had to admit, deep down, it was a fair argument he made. "I came to help you, remember? Business associates don't address themselves in such childish ways."
"Are you calling me childish? Which one of us works with snot blasters and charmed whoopee cushions?"
"Clearly, the one that works." She narrowed her eyes. "You should try it sometime."
He stared at her, eyebrows raised, and, yet again, their silent war ensued. Eventually, Hermione caved, not wanting to lose, but clearly trying to be the adult in the situation, and said,
"Shall we get to work, Malfoy-The-Magnificent?"
His smirk faltered a moment, clearly taken aback by her concedement at his request. He raised both of his eyebrows, nodded in appreciation, rubbed his chin, and smirked again. "Well then, Miss Granger. Proceed."
Hermione's face fell into a grin from ear-to-ear, and she placed her briefcase atop the table, shaking her mug of butterbeer in the process. "Thank you, Mister Malfoy. Let's begin!"
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