A/N - Written for the Musical Heart Valentine's Day Challenge on Granger Enchanted.

Prompt - "You were meant for me," he whispered and wrapped his long elegant fingers in her mass of curly hair. "And I was meant for you, Granger, the quicker you come to accept it, the happier we'll all be."

Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.

Thank you to Indyanna and Head-In-Disarray for the beta work.

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He noticed the difference on Monday.

Had it been anyone else, he wouldn't have stared insanely at them trying to figure out the trigger that caused their change in behaviour. He found himself trying to focus all of his attention in not looking at her, rather than the task at hand. She had always been fascinating to some degree, but even he had to admit that his actions were bordering on that of a stalker.

While he sat stoically in place, focusing all of his mental energy on this one meeting, his partner sat to the left of him, distracted. To any other observer, she was a full participant in the day's proceedings. But Draco could see it in her eyes. Her mind was elsewhere. There were moments -when he spoke- her eyes would glaze over with a hidden memory and she would smile. Smile. Like it was the most normal thing in the world. And it irritated him to no end. He loathed it when people didn't pay attention to him, especially her.

He decided the moment had come to talk about it when they left the meeting room and headed towards the elevator.

"I would prefer if you paid attention at the next meeting."

Her head snapped up quickly, her curls bobbing distractedly beside him. "Are you hinting at something, Malfoy?"

"Not at all," he said smiling sarcastically. "I was just saying that I understand how difficult it is to keep one's mind on business, but I would prefer if more of an effort was made."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously at him. "In case you have forgotten, the main pitch was done by me."

"And in case you have forgotten, you were silent when they asked questions."

"You handled it fine."

"I know that," he replied snappily, causing her to roll her eyes at him. "I'm simply saying that it would have been nice to have some support."

"Believe me, if you couldn't handle it I would have jumped right in." She smiled sarcastically as she stepped into the already opened elevator and pressed the button to the next floor.

"Next time, don't space out."

She rolled her eyes again before she looked at him in exasperation. "Remind me again why I decided to work with you?"

Without a conscious thought, he raised his free hand immediately to stop the elevator door from closing. A small part of him revelled in how her eyes widened in surprise. A few moments passed before he suddenly realized that not only were they simply staring at each other, but an elderly couple were watching them in blatant interest.

"I'd rather not," he said softly.

Stepping back, he let the elevator door close, trying to block out that one moment of weakness he promised himself never to give in to.

His interest was piqued on Tuesday.

They were in Muggle London; a place he could never get used to. Everywhere he looked there would always be something 'electronic', as she called it. They had just finished one of the follow up meetings with a Muggle client when a beeping sound drew his attention to her. She pulled out one of those contraptions that she only used when they were away from the wizarding world; one that seemed to be spell-o-taped to the ear of nearly every Muggle who passed him by. She glanced at it briefly and smiled. It was the same smile he saw whenever she thought of something fondly. And it irked him.

"Something funny?" he snapped unnecessarily.

She looked up distractedly. "What?"

"You're grinning." A complete exaggeration, her lips barely quirked. But still, he noticed.

She eyed him almost curiously as she placed the annoying thing back into her pocket. "Why are you so interested in what I do all of a sudden?"

"I'm not," he responded automatically.

"Yes, you are," she said in that annoyingly logical tone of hers. "And you've been snapping at me for no reason."

The denial was on the tip of his tongue; instead, he decided to try something different. "I don't understand why you're so defensive."

She looked at him in frustration. "Anyone would be defensive if they were being criticized for no reason."

"I'm not criticizing."

"It sure feels like it."

He chose that moment to stare her down. "Well, you're delusional."

"Glad you think so," she mumbled bitterly. "And as much as I love arguing with you, someone's expecting me."

He stepped in front of her slightly so that she would have to lean her head back to look at him. One thing he always liked was to make her look up at him. "Don't forget, we have a presentation to finish by Friday."

She smiled almost mockingly at him. "In all the years that you've known me, Malfoy, have I ever forgotten anything?"

He found himself unable to answer her. When she simply raised her eyebrow at him, he complied and stepped away, giving her ample room to leave him standing alone on the streets of Muggle London.

On Wednesday, he got irritated.

It had absolutely nothing to do with the bouquet of roses she received. He wasn't that petty. Being a Malfoy ensured that that very quality was struck from his blood. Still, his secretary was annoyingly slow, his employees were unusually incompetent, and no one seemed to realize what he wanted when he wanted it. It was finally Hermione who stormed into his office in a right rage. And this too, didn't improve his mood.

"What is going on with you?"

He didn't look up from the pile of papers that littered his desk. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"No?" She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "Every time I ask someone to send you a document, they keep making excuses."

"Your point?" He asked in a bored tone.

"My point is that they all say the same thing. That you're in a foul mood."

He snorted before raising his head and acknowledging her presence properly. "I am not in a foul mood."

"Really?" she asked sarcastically. "Then why haven't you being replying any of my memos?"

He looked back down at the stack of papers before him. "They didn't seem urgent."

"Not even when they were marked as 'urgent' in bold red letters?" she snapped, her voice rising with every word.

He looked at her coolly. "No."

She looked ready to snap in anger, but instead, she took a deep breath and said through gritted teeth, "Get it together. I can't run this firm by myself. If you have a problem, deal with it and move on. Don't take out your anger on the people who work for us."

She turned to leave when he finally spoke. "I'm sorry that I don't get flowers to keep me in a good mood," he muttered bitterly.

Hermione turned around to stare at him disbelief. "Is that what all of this is about? The fact that I got flowers and you didn't?" He looked at her defiantly. "I know that she's our client, but Mrs. Summerson mostly dealt with me. It makes sense for her to send me flowers. Next time, don't get so worked up over the gratefulness of a client. It's not a competition." With that parting comment she left, practically slamming the door in her wake.

The fact that everything seemed to be going well after that was an utter coincidence.

He started to question things on Thursday.

Even after the little blow out the day before, he started noticing how she would always make excuses to stay in the same room with him. Whenever he spoke to her, her eyes would widen like a doe's and she would flee immediately. Besides the fact that this was hurting their 'equal partnership' image towards the employees, he found that the way she treated him was hugely unsettling. He could admit to himself that he had first coined the terms where they were to interact whenever it was necessary. But seeing her take this to the next level and avoid him was definitely bothersome. Part of him felt the urge to call her on it, while a larger, more logical part demanded he keep his mouth shut. He decided to follow the more Slytherin impulse within him, which was to take her assistant out for dinner and quiz her. If the woman wasn't such a giggling bint, he might have actually enjoyed himself.

"I meant to ask you, how is working for Ms. Granger? Does she treat you well?"

The girl grinned honestly. "Yes. She's very considerate and kind."

"That's good to hear," he said flippantly. "Many people usually use their assistants to do their personal work. I'm glad that she doesn't make you run personal errands or take her personal calls."

The girl shifted uncomfortably before looking at him cautiously through lowered lashes. "Well... She has asked me to take a few of her personal calls sometimes..."

"Oh?" He took a casual bite of his meal and smiled.

She returned it, visibly relaxing in wake of his behaviour. "I guess that is to be expected."

"It is." He nodded. "Parents are an important part of our lives and we should never refuse a call from them."

She blushed, and he couldn't help but raise a curious eyebrow. "Parents are not the only ones who call her," she mumbled more to herself as she took a quick sip of her drink.

Draco smiled before changing the subject easily. While she spoke of her future aspirations, and how much she loved working at his firm, Draco concentrated on keeping the cutlery light in his hands. The urge to tighten his grip and use the utensils in short, sharp strokes was oddly overwhelming.

He had his first glance of why she had been avoiding him on Friday.

The benefit they had organized was coming along splendidly and he couldn't help but notice how she still kept her primary need to avoid him unusually strong. He was never the type to be ignored or stay ignored; which was why he did everything in his power to ensure that he was around no matter where she was or what she was doing. It took her a while, but she finally gave in to the pressure and confronted him by dragging him away from the rest of her team.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm going over the plans for tomorrow night."

Her eyes narrowed. "That would be fine, if it weren't for the tiny fact that this is my project. Step back and let me do my job."

He smiled humourlessly. "I'm not hindering anything."

"No," she said through gritted teeth. "But you are making it look like I'm incompetent in front of my staff."

Before he could say anything further, her assistant poked her head into the conference room. "Ms. Granger? Your three o' clock is here to see you." If the woman hadn't blushed and Hermione hadn't glanced at him worriedly, he wouldn't have been interested. As it was, their behaviour was curious.

"I'll be there in a minute, Carol," Hermione said smiling before turning a glare his way. "Stay away from my project." Narrowing her eyes further to show that she meant business, she stormed out. Draco waited a minute before he followed her.

He walked casually, almost aimlessly as he kept his eyes on her form as she headed towards the lobby. He stayed a safe distance away, keeping a stern face so that the people he passed wouldn't mistake his demeanor and shout out a greeting. When she finally stopped to greet a man, he hid himself quickly behind a wall that was close enough to see their faces. He squinted at them, noting how she smiled brilliantly as she looked up at him. The man was dark haired and tall; and Draco felt the childish urge to go stand beside him to decide who was taller.

"They make a cute couple, don't they?"

Draco jumped in surprise, his heart beating incessantly before his eyes landed on Hermione's assistant who stood next to him with a wide smile. She held out a clip board and a quill. "I need your signature."

Glaring at her, he grabbed the form and signed forcefully, barely glancing at the form itself.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," she said chirpily before sauntering away.

Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath to stifle the dread that was rising within him. He knew her voice had carried, and the logical move would be to keep his back to the people he had been spying on and leave. Save his dignity. But he just had to know if she noticed. One glance over his shoulder proved that he was right.

He nodded a silent greeting before he turned his back on his partner's surprised face. Storming back to his office, he cursed the bloody assistant and started thinking of elaborate plans to fire her without breaking the agreement that Hermione just had to create to protect all of their employees.

On Saturday, his resolve finally snapped.

It took seeing her with him while she was hosting the event for him to finally admit that he wasn't as comfortable with this as he had hoped. He found himself distracted by the little things this unwanted guest did. He made her laugh easily, conversed well with those she introduced him to, and kept her glass full at all times. His attentiveness was sickening. It finally took a kiss on her cheek for Draco to forget what the event was planned for and place himself in her presence.

"How romantic," he drawled as he took a sip of the firewhisky in his hand, "an attentive date for Valentine's Day. Aren't you lucky?"

Hermione rolled her eyes before quickly searching the room for her date. "Maybe you should leave before my date comes back with my drink."

He smirked cockily at her. "Why? Didn't you tell him about me?"

The blank look she gave him chilled his blood. "What is there to tell?"

Draco fought the urge to twist his lips into a sneer, painfully aware that they were at a formal benefit with clients celebrating the pink and red holiday. "The last time I checked, you and I were never only Partners." He leaned towards her, confident in his ability to make her aware of him. "You've probably seen more of my bed that anyone else."

She held his gaze boldly, her eyes brilliantly hazel. "You made your choice." He winced at the coldness of her tone. "And now you must live with it."

"I didn't have a choice," he hissed. "They were going to cut me off, and we needed the start up capital."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief, her eyes glazing over with un-shed tears. "You could have stood up for me, but you didn't." She shrugged. "You said we had to be platonic to get your parent's money. Now that we are, I suggest you let me do my job. You've got what you want, enjoy it."

It took everything in him not to grab her arm to stop her. Instead he watched her leave, gulping down the rest of the amber liquid in one smooth twitch of his head. The drink was a welcome burn as it made its way down his throat, but he found it insufficient nonetheless. With a determination that he usually left for business he made his way to the bar. They were bound to have something stronger that he needed; something that could distract him.

It was Sunday morning when he finally appeared partly sloshed in front of Hermione's apartment door.

The party had ended two hours before, and he had spent the last one hundred and twenty minutes contemplating his life choices with a refilling glass of firewhisky. At moments like that, he had to pity Muggles who had no idea of the existence of magic that could make their lives invariably easier.

He also pitied himself as he leaned against the door, his head on his arm while he pulled out his wand and muttered a tired, "Alohamora". When the door opened to his surprise, he stumbled in to the darkened room, bumping into something hard and knocking over something that made a loud clatter as it fell to the floor. He swore with a string of choice expletives as he grabbed his side and bent forward in pain. That really hurt.

"Draco?"

He looked up when the lights were turned on, shutting his eyes immediately to block out the blinding light. How he hated Muggle inventions.

"What are you doing here?"

He grunted as he stood straight with great difficulty, one thought penetrating his mind. "You didn't change the wards," he muttered.

Hermione stepped forward, placing her wand on the table he had bumped into. She had pulled it out for protection. Smart witch. "Malfoy," she began softly as she pulled her robe around her tighter, "what are you doing here?"

He chose to ignore her question and how she changed her greeting the moment she was less startled. "You didn't change the wards." He took deliberate steps closer to her, and was insanely glad when she started squirming under his intense gaze.

"I didn't expect you to break in."

"I didn't break in. I came to talk to you."

"You're drunk, and what you need to say should only be said at work." She placed a warm hand on his shoulder, nudging him gently backwards. "Go home, Malfoy."

The use of his family name stirred him into action. In one smooth movement, he shrugged out of her touch, wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him. Her gasp only caused him to smirk cockily down at her.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm getting you back," he said in an obvious tone before he lowered his head so that their lips were barely touching. "You were meant for me," he whispered and wrapped his long elegant fingers in her mass of curly hair. "And I was meant for you, Granger, the quicker you come to accept it, the happier we'll all be."

The moment her lips parted to speak, he kissed her; his very being responding to that simple touch. Her body immediately arched towards him before her hand made its way to his chest to push him back. She broke the kiss, and Draco instinctively followed her lips with his own only to be thwarted by her cheek when she turned her face away from him.

"You can't just come in here and expect things to be okay," she said shakily while her eyes rose to meet his. "You can't just expect me to forgive you."

The fact that she didn't fight to leave his arms, he took as a good sign. "I know." He placed his forehead lightly against hers, showing a level of affection that he never did while they were together. The next day, he would blame the consumption of copious amounts of firewhisky. "You can give me another chance," he muttered against her lips, as his fingers freed themselves from her curls and travelled tantalizingly slowly down the curve of her cheek to rest on the back of her neck, his thumb rubbing light circles against the column of her neck.

The feather light touch caused her eyes to close as she gave into the feeling of them. "I can't," she whispered shakily even as her lips moved even closer to his. "How do I know that you won't change your mind?"

"I never did," he said hoarsely against her skin even as his other hand moved to her lower back to trace her curves slowly. "I made the mistake, and now I want to right it."

She shook her head lightly. "I don't think I can trust you again."

Draco immediately pulled back. He never expected her to be so hurt. She was supposed to be the stronger one, the braver one. Hermione's eyes opened when she felt him pull away and he leaned forward to simply peck her lips with a light kiss. "I already spoke to the lawyers. Monday morning, we're transferring the money back."

She looked at him in barely hopeful confusion. "But you'll be cut off."

"Our clients are loyal, we'll survive."

The small hint of a smile grazed her lips. "Some might think what you're doing is romantic."

"Those people don't know me," he said with a smirk. "I'm not the romantic kind."

She looked at him with a grim expression. "Are you sure about this?"

"No," he said without hesitation. "Will you give me another chance?"

"It will take more than a grand gesture."

He smirked. "I don't know of any woman who would have said that."

"I'm not any woman." Hermione said softly even as she rose onto her toes and pecked him lightly on the corner of his lips. "It's late." She untangled herself out of his reluctant arms. "You should sleep here tonight. If you Apparate you might splinch yourself." Lifting her wand, she closed the front door with a silent spell before she eyed him strictly. "Don't expect anything, though."

"Of course," he said as gentlemanly as possible even as she gave him pillows and a blanket so he could sleep comfortably on the couch.

She kissed him on the cheek one last time before going to bed. A kiss that he tried to move to her lips unsuccessfully. That night, Draco slept happily even though his back ached from being forced to inhabit an insanely uncomfortable couch. There's no better feeling than knowing that at the end, he might not have lost the girl after all.