Greetings and thank you for visiting this story.

This may be familiar to some of you. If anyone is reading Personal Assistance on AO3, there will be familiar ideas and themes, though they will branch off a little. I wasn't allowed to post that here because it is written in the second person and so I have done a bit of a rewrite and changed it up for sharing here. Though you are more than welcome to read both, please don't shout at me if you find them similar!

I hope you enjoy it and would love to hear your thoughts and comments, so please leave a review if you can. It is always appreciated.

Though it is early in the story, I traditionally apologise to Jason Isaacs (lovely, adorable man that he is), so as always, sorry love!

There will be smut, lots and lots of smut, but I am going to make you wait first!

I own nothing except a filthy mind.

Happy reading, Vin x

Hermione stopped just outside the heavy, ornate office door, running her fingertips over the family crest embellished into the ancient wood that felt a thousand years old with a mix of curiosity and disdain. Clenching her fist, she stopped and hovered millimetres from the door, building herself up to knock and announce her presence. Deep down she didn't know why she was here at all. She needed a job, that much was true. After the war she felt lost. At some point she knew she needed to go back and finish her NEWTS. She knew she would settle into something permanent eventually. The Ministry had already written to her offering her numerous posts. Hermione Granger was a young woman in demand and that was part of the problem. She felt the heavy weight of expectation on her shoulders and bitter pangs of resentment that a golden part of her youth had been lost in the fight. She had never been frivolous or foolish. It occurred to her she was neither of those things at eleven years of age.

When the dust settled, she had travelled; she wanted to go anywhere, everywhere and nowhere. She had spent time in Eastern Europe studying vampires and dragons. Still studying. She had lived in South America and learnt about exotic potion ingredients from the wizarding community deep within the rainforest. Even in her efforts to be carefree she still found purpose and learning. Going off and finding herself, whatever that meant had turned into a purposeful educational tour. Now she was home, she was in need of both something to do and there was of course the more pressing issue of making a living. Even the young and the reckless needed to eat.

The advert had been non-descript. Personal Assistant Required. It had asked for basic secretarial skills, efficiency, professionalism and most importantly stressed no prior experience was required. It paid surprisingly well. She had wondered if it was too good to be true. The application was sent by owl to a box number. It struck her as strange. She was right. The invitation to interview came. It was curt and to the point, simply a time and a date and signed one Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione froze at that name, it conjured memories she hoped were fading into the past and freshly stamped their imprint on her mind. She had boiled with rage. How dare he carry on as if nothing had happened? He had no right to go on with his life after what he had done. No wonder it didn't say who the employer was. Nobody in their right mind would work for him. She reeled at the bare-faced cheek of the man to even dare to offer her an interview. And yet, here she was. It was stubbornness of the highest order, if he thought he could make her hide and cower from him, he was utterly mistaken. No, she had decided to attend and make him regret his decision. He would not toy with her.

The urge to crumple up the reply and burn it immediately had been strong.

"Ginny, what should I do?" she had asked her friend.

"I wouldn't go near it, or him. I can't understand why you would. After everything that happened. No good can come of it."

She was probably right, but outrage and bloody determination swelled within Hermione. It always had.

"The nerve of the man, to invite me to a job interview!"

Ginny sighed; she knew there would be no dissuading her. She had learnt long ago that once Hermione Granger had made her mind up, that was that.

"I'll show him, he probably expects me to run away and hide, but I won't, Ginny. I didn't then and I certainly won't now."

Her arms were crossed over her chest.

"Ron was asking after you," Ginny offered gingerly.

Another deep sigh. Hermione and Ron had drifted apart after the war. She adored him with all her heart, but something told her that under other circumstances, perhaps if their childhoods had been more, for want of a better expression, normal, they would never have been thrown together. They were very different people. Still her affection for him was warm.

"I hope he's well." Guilt dug at her ribs. Three inseparable friends now seemed distant and apart. "How's Harry? I haven't seen him for an age."

Ginny's face lit up. "He's fine, he's doing well at the Ministry and…"

"You know that's not what I mean."

"We're doing just fine," Ginny beamed.

Hermione was truly happy for them, but even that brought its own reminders. She rarely saw Harry now. She knew he wouldn't approve of her storming down to Malfoy's office and making him squirm. He would advise her to let it go and not everything needed to be a moral stand. Still she was adamant.

Now here she was, doing all she could to conceal her nerves outside the door of Lucius Malfoy's prestigious offices.

"Come on, Hermione, you can do this, you can," she barely whispered to herself.

Before she could knock, a voice boomed from behind the door.

"Enter."

It startled her. He couldn't possibly have heard her, in fact she had gone out of her way to charm her heels beforehand so they hadn't clacked against the cold marble floor, and she had approached as stealthily as she could. Deep down, she already knew long before she arrived for the interview, she would need at least a moment to compose herself before she confronted Malfoy.

She made him wait. Clearing her throat, she took a moment to steel herself, smoothed down her skirt and tried to pat down any stray or out of place hair. Hermione had every intention of showing him that he couldn't rattle her. She would prove her point and leave. She was determined to look good while she did it. She had selected a high-waisted black pencil skirt that sat just below the knee and a plain white shirt, tucked in and done up enough to avoid any flesh on display. The desired look was professional. It was what he had asked for, he couldn't insult her for that.

There had been rumours about what he was like to work for. Essie Blott had told her the story of a young woman who had turned up for an interview in full robes only to be sent away teary-eyed as 'a dishevelled bat flapping around the office' was identified as reason enough not to employ her. Hermione thought it a lucky escape, though that was little consolation to that poor girl at the time. She meant business.

Despite her determination, her hand still shook a little as she turned the handle and entered. Unable to force herself to make eye contact she quickly absorbed the details of the room. Luxurious mahogany shelves filled with heavy, dusty accounting books lined the walls, along with the paintings of five generations of Malfoy patriarchs glowering down at her. A grand fireplace of pale marble adorned the chimney breast and a vast leather-topped desk dominated the centre of the room. It was the occupant of the grandiose wing-backed chair behind it that was the most intimidating feature of the room. She could feel his eyes boring into her. Searing hatred coursed through her body. Hermione repressed it as best she could. The urge to scream at him and launch into an angry tirade was strong. She resisted. It would only amuse him. Instead she would play him at his own game.

Lucius Malfoy flicked through the papers in front of him and she instantly recognised her own application. There was an uncomfortable silence, punctuated only by the ticking of an ostentatious, ormolu carriage clock on the fireplace. She remained silent, watching and waiting.

The last time she had seen him he was a broken and dishevelled man. The Lucius of old sat before her, his hair immaculate, dressed in black, his cane close at hand. She studied him intently. The air of superiority had returned, along with his snobbish sneer.

"Take a seat," he commanded, his voice monotone and his face expressionless as he waved his hand and a chair slid back to bid her sit on the opposite side of the desk.

His arrogance and ignorance enraged her, but there was something else. It wasn't fear, but she couldn't put her finger on the feeling she had deep in the pit of her stomach. If she was nervous, she would do her best not to show it. She wasn't here to give him that satisfaction. Her thumping heartbeat, that had fallen into a steady rhythm with the clock was now beating faster and reverberated in her ears. Each time he paused from his reading for a second, she considered speaking and each time she thought better of it. The eyes of the paintings continued to silently appraise her.

Finally, he raised his head slowly and spoke.

"Miss Granger, what a pleasure to see you again. I have to say I was most surprised to receive your application."

"Not as surprised as I was, I can assure you. I had no idea you were the employer."

Lucius starred at her blankly.

"I see you are yet to complete your education."

"My education was somewhat interrupted. You may recall the Battle of Hogwarts. At my school. You were there. On the losing side."

"I understand your grievances, Miss Granger."

Lucius' tone never shifted. Her rage could no longer be contained.

"Grievances! Grievances, why you conceited, ignorant…"

"And yet, Miss Granger you are here, in my offices, attending an interview I invited you to. Might I ask why? If you simply wish to express your dislike of me, you could have declined by owl and done so in writing."

"Well, you made me so welcome in your house, I felt it only right I experienced your hospitality in your place of business. Besides, I wanted to know," she spat angrily.

"Know what?"

Lucius was still as calm and patient as when she had entered the room. Nothing she said appeared to rattle him at all. Hermione was beginning to regret this. The clock ticked, filling the silence and pressuring her to answer.

"How you escaped a lifetime in Azkaban, for starters."

Lucius eyed her coldly. Her voice began to crack.

"How you live with yourself. I wanted to know if you are the least bit sorry for what you did."

Tears welled and she fought them as hard as she could.

"Miss Granger, I co-operated fully with all investigations and was acquitted of any wrong-doing."

He was matter of fact about it. It was the worst kept secret in the wizarding world that he had informed on every death eater and sympathiser in a bid to save his own skin.

"Typical," she said through gritted teeth.

"I live with myself because I must. It may have escaped your notice that I am estranged from my wife and son. I live with no-one else."

She scanned his face for a trace of emotion. If there was any he hid it well. Even she could concede at least he had lost something though it seemed a small price to pay for his misdeeds.

"Finally, I have invited you here to this interview, have I not, Miss Granger? I had no obligation to. I will allow you to draw your own conclusions."

Anger spiked in her again.

"So, I am here out of pity?"

Lucius rolled his eyes and breathed in deeply through his nose.

"No, Miss Granger. You are here because you are the most competent and capable applicant. I admit in the past, my…prejudices, may have barred you from consideration. I invited you here because you are a worthy candidate and if you have completed your interview of me, I do have questions."

Hermione was open-mouthed. She had shuffled in her seat, willing herself to get up and storm out. She didn't. Instead she sat bolt upright in her seat and composed herself. If Malfoy wanted to interview her, she would let him. She scanned his face, his crystal blue eyes twinkled in the light from the open fire. She had never looked closely at him before. He wasn't an unattractive man on the surface. It was something she had never noticed, and it occurred to her she had never looked at him as simply that: a man. Lucius had been the father of her tormentor and nemesis at school, a cruel bully and a death eater. Now she found herself studying his face. It weakened her resolve. Her mouth had dried, and she licked her lips and found herself starring at his.

Rumour had it he was a gifted legilimens, judging by the look on his face, that may well have been true. Conscious of the inappropriateness of her own thoughts, she lifted her gaze, only to be met with piercing and disarming blue eyes boring deeply into her soul from the other side of the desk, forcing a sharp intake of breath. Hermione licked her lips again.

"I wonder," he said with more than a hint of wickedness, "do I make you nervous?"

"Not at all," she replied confidently. Hermione didn't feel nervous, but there was something unsettling about sitting there now, with him.

"Your mouth appears dry. Do you need water?"

Hermione swallowed. A glass of water sounded wonderful, she refused it, unwilling to show a hint of weakness. "No thank you, I'm fine."

"Good," he said sharply. "What do you imagine qualifies you to act as my personal assistant?"

The interview had begun very suddenly. She thought for a minute. There was something both repulsive and fascinating about the idea. Hermione considered her answer. His eyes pressed her to hurry up and respond.

"I am more than capable of thinking for myself, as well as following instructions with care and precision. I am hard-working and conscientious. I'm a fast-learner, well organised and…"

Lucius looked bored. It broke her train of thought.

"But you are inefficient," Lucius said curtly.

Hermione looked bewildered; nobody had ever called her that before. Though she despised herself for it, it bruised her ego. There was an indignant tone to her reply she failed to mask.

"How so?"

"Your letter is a handwritten, wordy tome, Miss Granger. This is repetitive secretarial work for the most part. A simple, generic CV comprising of your qualifications, skills and experiences would have sufficed."

"Then I am not at all inefficient at all."

Lucius' eyebrow shot up.

"As a personal assistant, the emphasis is on the personal touch. Going above and beyond the ordinary is the job of a good assistant, whether it to be to win over a difficult client, or to meet the needs of their employer."

She felt smugly satisfied with her response, as if she had regained the upper hand. Lucius paused, sucking in his cheeks slightly. His eyes narrowed.

"And you believe you can, meet my needs?"

Hermione ignored the way his voice curled around that word. She liked to have an answer for everything.

"Yes. I believe I can. I would not have wasted your valuable time with my application if I didn't."

He observed her for a moment, drawing out the pause to his own advantage. Hermione fought the urge to fill the silence. It felt like a victory at first. Lucius studied the paper in front of him. The clock still ticked out its beats. Occasionally he would glance up at her. It was unsettling, but she refused to speak first. Hermione felt her triumph waning.

Finally, he spoke.

"Excellent. Then I shall eagerly await your best efforts. I will arrange your contract immediately and expect you to start on Monday. Be prepared, Miss Granger. I expect you to arrive early and be prepared to work late. Our… history, shall we say, does not grant you a free pass. I expect you to work hard."

Hermione's eyes widened. Perhaps this game had gone too far. She had meant to come here and embarrass him, teach him a lesson. She expected a scene. At no point did she imagine he would offer her the job. She struggled to know quite what to say.

"I…well…"

"Cat got your tongue?"

The remark would normally have infuriated her and been dispatched with a sharp retort. At this moment in time she barely knew her own name.

"I don't know quite what to say."

"Unprepared, Miss Granger? Perhaps I should reconsider my offer. If you are not up to the task, I do have other people to see. I will quite understand if you feel unable to fulfil the role."

It was sheer manipulation. Hermione knew it and yet she walked right into the trap. He understood her arrogance and competitive nature only too well.

"Not at all. I accept and look forward to working with you."

Stunned at her own decision, Hermione pulled herself to her feet and extended her hand towards him. Lucius was slow to reciprocate. Eventually he rose to his feet and shook her hand. His grip was firm, and his thumb brushed the back of her knuckles. Hermione watched its movements across the back of her hand but did nothing to stop it. She allowed it. There was a soft, yet possessiveness to that touch. Their eyes met. Though she held his gaze and did not flinch, she found her mouth dry again. Eventually, he slowly withdrew his hand, leaving her with a peculiar feeling of loss. She shook it off quickly.

She had never envisaged the morning playing out as it had. It seemed important now, as if humanising Lucius Malfoy would be some form of catharsis. Her own pride told her she would do an impressive job. Perhaps it might educate him about the value and virtue of those he deemed inferior by birth. There was something else, something she could neither identify, nor acknowledge. It bubbled away beneath the surface, unnamed and unrecognisable from the way even the mention of his name had made her feel before now.

"Well, thank you, Mr Malfoy. Words I never imagined myself saying."

She tried to break the tension. It sounded clumsy and awkward.

"Welcome to my employ, words I'm sure you understand I never imagined myself saying either. Good day."

He signalled towards the door and showed her out.

"As an aside, Miss Granger. I find, Mr Malfoy unpleasant to my ears. It sounds rather…muggle. I should much prefer you to address me as Sir."

Hermione balked a little at the idea. It was so typically him, pretentious and hierarchical.

"Very well," the look of disgust flashed over her features, "Sir," she added through gritted teeth.

Hermione turned to leave. He stopped her again.

"One final thing. My business is my business. I assure you while nothing untoward goes on here and my dealings are absolutely legitimate, I do not wish to be the subject of idle gossip, nor have my trading disrupted by careless chatter. I trust you can be discreet."

"Of course. Discretion is my middle name."

"An unfortunate choice on the part of your parents."

Hermione rolled her eyes. She walked into that and cursed herself for saying it. Once the heavy door closed, she breathed out a deep sigh of relief. She had no idea what she was doing, no idea how to explain this to anyone else. It was a challenge. Nothing more. On the walk home, she repeated that to herself over and over again. She would prove her point and once she was indispensable, she would resign. Noble aspirations aside, it was a job and she needed one desperately. It rolled over in her mind and she was surprised to find herself at her own front door.

The interview was done.

Monday morning was another matter entirely.