Disclaimer: I do not own any of the original characters or elements of J. K. Rowling's Harry Potter. Anything written here is purely for entertainment and will not be making any profit.

Fated To Pretend

Summary: Draco sits alone, musing the pitfalls of his master plan to obtain the woman of his dreams. If only his dream were to become a reality. Part of a Word Of The Day challenge: 'ill-gotten'. One-shot. So fluffy.

Main Characters: Draco Malfoy.

Rating: T (for safety)

Warnings: If you thought candyfloss was sweet...

Genre: Romance. Hurt/Comfort. Family. FLUFF.

~ Fated To Pretend ~

'Ill-Gotten'

Draco Malfoy sat gazing blankly into the fire before him, as he raised his glass of Firewhiskey to his lips once more.

He knew he should feel some remorse, some kind of guilt over his actions. But right now, the only emotion coursing through his body was a bitter disappointment that his plan had not quite come followed its desired path.

She was supposed to realise the truth, end her relationship with that incompetent twazzock, and run straight into his open and eager arms.

Of course, knowing her as he did, he should have recognised that his scheme would never run smoothly. And so, here he was, sat alone in his house, steadily draining a bottle of Ogden's finest and feeling mightily sorry for himself.

Shadows flickered across the walls of the unlit lounge he had slumped as he cast a dazed eye across the large room of his Georgian townhouse. He had inherited the property when he became of age, but in the uproar of the Dark Lord's reign such petty things as inheritance seemed trivial.

He hadn't taken up his birthright until he turned twenty-two, and felt it was an appropriate time to move out his family home. He had built a successful career within the Ministry's Department of Magical Law Enforcement, preferring to work within the administration rather than tackling crimes head on, like Potter and his band of merry wand-wavers. Draco had experienced quite enough in the way of clashes and brawls in his lifetime, and was surprised to find he in fact quite enjoyed a more academic approach to matters.

And that was how he had met her.

She, of course, had been high up in a managerial position, though no-one could doubt that had far more to do with her hard work and determination than with people bowing down to her because of her name.

He had been apprehensive at first, anxious that she would easily slip back in to the sour acquaintance they had endured throughout their school years. He couldn't have been more wrong.

Upon entering the department on his first day, she had looked up, cast a brief smile in his direction and greeted him with a short 'Malfoy', and a simple nod of the head. And for that, he was eternally grateful.

She hadn't judged him or assumed he would be lazy and inept at his job, as many had. She had treated him as any other member of the team and worked him just as hard. And when her second in command had moved to another department she had given him a respectable recommendation, resulting in his swift promotion as her deputy.

So he found himself working closely with a woman he had once tormented, not that anyone would have known from observing the two of them. As a surprise to himself above anyone else, he had found that he rather liked spending time with her, and certainly wished he could spend much more with her outside of the office.

One night, when they had been working late on a new case, he had asked her to join him for dinner. Her eyes had sparked with what he so desperately hoped was disappointment as she explained that she had already made plans for the evening. Draco distinctly remembered the feeling of his heart dropping through his stomach when she revealed that her boyfriend had planned on cooking them dinner at home.

He had packed up rather quickly and left for his own empty house after that.

Unable to leave his emotions unsatisfied, Draco had started to dig deeper on her boyfriend, he hated to think of the term, Terry Boot. Unsurprisingly his former classmate was a Ravenclaw, and had trained as a Healer after graduating from Hogwarts, having retaken his N.E.W.T.s alongside her.

Swirling the amber liquid around his glass, watching the light of the fire casting prisms through his drink, Draco smiled as he remembered insisting on accompanying his mother to St. Mungo's for an annual check up, so he could catch a glimpse of the man that had supposedly won his love's heart.

His father had caught his eye several times that day with a bemused smile, undoubtedly aware that Draco had hired a private investigator in an attempt to find some dirt on Boot to expose him with, especially as he had used Malfoy money to do so.

Sitting in the large, open Reception area of the newly refurbished Hospital, he had eventually spied the man approaching the front desk and chatting to a couple of trainee Mediwitches. Nothing seemed amiss until Boot had touched one young woman's arm affectionately, familiarly, before leaning in close to whisper in her ear. The blush that lit up her face and the shrill giggle that could be heard from where Draco was sat, half hidden, suggested that he was not conferring with her on the latest cure for Spattergroit.

And so Draco had taken matters into his own hands, charming one of the reception desk witches so his regular visits to the Hospital to spy on Boot wouldn't seem out of place. Unfortunately, the woman had become rather clingy and seemed under some illusion that she was in a relationship with the youngest Malfoy, so he had eventually needed to abandon that plan.

His colleague had seemed rather amused as he relayed his woes to her at her own insistence, although he was careful to omit from his tale the fact that he was stalking her lover.

Their work relationship continued as just that, although he took pride in knowing her coffee order by heart and buying them both lunch on days when they were particularly snowed under and stuck in the office all day.

But he so wished for more. He wanted to be able to take her to the grandest restaurant for dinner every night, or stay in and cook for her if she wanted. He wished that bringing her the required caffeine boost and muffin in the mornings without her asking, meant as much to her as it did to him. And above all, he wanted to Floo back to their home in the evenings with her, hold her in his arms and call her his own.

He had just about given up all hope, not willing to cause her unhappiness or experience the bitter sting of rejection by laying his heart on the table for her and complicating their steady friendship, when his best friends managed to drag him out to dinner.

They had headed to a relatively new and up-market establishment just off central Diagon Alley, and one that was a firm favourite of Draco's already. As he began his meal with Pansy and Blaise in Polgara's Kitchen, his gaze had wandered around the restaurant whilst Pansy blithered on about her upcoming wedding arrangements.

His eyes had eventually caught sight of what looked suspiciously like the object of his stalking for the past few months, being ushered into a private booth at the back of the large room. Draco abruptly excused himself from the table, feigning a need to relieve himself, and made his way through the tables in the general direction of the bathroom, taking care to stroll past the booths.

He nearly doubled back, partly in joy, when he discovered that it was in fact Terry Boot and none other than his Mediwitch friend holding hands across the table.

The meal with his friends was considerably more enjoyable as he formulated his plan in the back of his mind.

That night he had sat up, much as he was now, devising a way to let her know that her boyfriend was not the caring and generous man she assumed him to be. He had worked out exactly how he would broach the subject, the very inflection of each syllable as he broke the news to her, precisely when he would move in to embrace her as she wept, selecting a shirt he wouldn't mind having stained with mascara tears.

Of course, his careful plotting had all gone straight out the window when he'd walked in the next morning, clutching her medium caramel latte and apple and honey muffin, as her stunning smile of greeting had weakened his knees.

In fact, he'd simply blurted out what he had seen the night before as she had taken the lid off her coffee to let it cool before drinking. Nevertheless, he was more than ready to comfort her in her hour of need.

What he hadn't been prepared for, however, was the smile and the shake of her head as she told him she was perfectly aware that he had taken his trainee out for dinner last night. It was only when she had referred to Boot's 'friend' as a promising young Mediwizard, that he realised she hadn't caught on that her boyfriend had been with a woman.

On further explanation and clarification that Alex could also be a girl's name, she had simply laughed off his claim, refusing to believe her boyfriend was anything but loyal and monogamous.

When she didn't return from her lunch break, after having popped home for some case notes she'd been working on the night before, Draco became anxious. He had waited until she was an hour late, before sending an owl out to find her, wherever she might be, and a memo to the Minister to see if she was in a meeting he hadn't heard about. When the owl came back without an answer and Shacklebolt replied that he hadn't seen her all day, he really began to worry.

Gritting his teeth and swallowing his pride, Draco wrote a short note to her closest friend and colleague, briskly asking for a swift response. The memo back was even shorter: a simple 'no, bugger off.'

Heading out into the corridor where he could pace freely without obstacle rather than the cramped office they shared, he ran his hands through his hair, his anxiety increasing by the minute. He debated going over to her place when he realised he had no idea where she lived, so that put flooing out of the question.

Leaning against the wall and thoroughly out of ideas, Draco looked up to see a familiar face heading towards the office door. As she barged past him, he couldn't help but question what the woman thought she was doing – she didn't even work at the Ministry for pity's sake, she was a journalist for the Daily Prophet.

When she replied that she was in fact a Quidditch correspondent and would have very little in the way to report on her friend's 'boring, law enforcement drivel', he was a little stumped for a witty response.

He managed to pull himself together in time to stop her leaving with an armful of files without question, when she grudgingly explained that his workmate had made an unfortunate discovery this afternoon and would otherwise be engaged with wine and ice cream for the foreseeable future.

Having spent enough time around Pansy Parkinson and her string of boyfriends, he was aware this meant relationship troubles, but she would answer no further, simply explaining that he may be working alone the next day, and stomping out through the office door.

Leaning back in his chair, Draco couldn't decide whether this was a good or bad development. Surely this meant that she was now single, that he could finally make his move. Alternatively, he didn't know how she was or where she was. And he was most certainly not going to stoop so low as to ask her friends.

He leaned forward and rested his forehead on the now half empty desk. Deciding that with his superior gone, he was now in charge, he proceeded to reward himself with the rest of the day off.

In a somewhat troubled mood, he had met Blaise in the Leaky Cauldron for an afternoon drink and eventually relayed his dilemma. His friend, having never settled down or been one for relationships at all, wasn't entirely helpful with advice and couldn't see why Draco was clamouring to be tied down to one woman.

After a lengthy discussion of the pros and cons of being in a steady relationship with one person, Draco eventually came to the realisation that Blaise was not going to be of any help in the matter at all. And Merlin forbid he seek Pansy out for her opinion, the woman was all about romance and passion with her nuptials on the horizon.

So he settled on spending the evening with his parents. Although not a troll on earth could convince him to confide in them, he would at least have company.

The next day at work proved to be quiet. Every set of footsteps outside the door had him sat up straight and staring at the door, but she never entered.

He worked right through to the end of the day and past the general departure time, in the vain hope that she might show up to collect files and thank him for bringing her to her senses, then confess her deep love for him and beg him to take her right there on the table...

He shook himself from his daydream, deciding it was definitely time to be heading home.

Although, his house was not a home. Not to him. Sure, he lived in the beautiful Georgian building, but it was so big and empty, with no one to fill it but himself. He felt lonely. And truly, he didn't feel like he could call the place a home until he could fill the rooms with his own family. And he wished for nothing more than just that – his own family.

He mulled over the thoughts drifting across his weary mind as he waited for the lift, surprising himself with his own honesty. He supposed he had never thought of his solitude as such before. And he had certainly never admitted that he wanted a family, a wife to take his name and children to run through the house, to swim in the pool and to paint the walls with sticky fingers.

He smiled to himself, sure that it was the prospect of turning thirty in a few short years time that had got him so broody. If his mother had had her way, he would have been married off at eighteen and a father not much later. But he had wanted to wait, to build his own career so he could support such a future for himself. And, still being frank with himself, to fall in love with someone before marrying her.

He arrived home, flooing into his ground floor fireplace and heading towards the kitchen. He set about preparing himself a meal, still a little resentful that one of the Ministry's stipulations for himself and his mother's avoidance of a term in Azkaban was to release their house elves. Still, it won him points with her.

As he set the pan to cook on the hob, he gazed out through the french doors of the dining room and into the wide garden – a rarity in central London. He considered what it would be like to have a couple of small Malfoys running about out there - he supposed he would have to remove some of the decking and put in grass, so they could have a swing set, or maybe a slide to play on.

He wondered whether they would prefer owls from a young age, or perhaps a cat. As he began to speculate as to whether his potential wife would be happy to continue the family tradition of constellation names, the smell of burning brought him back to his senses as he hurried back to the stove to salvage his dinner.

Upon entering the office the next day, he was more than surprised to find his supervisor sat at her desk, as if everything was perfectly normal. He hadn't been expecting her, and as such had neglected to bring her morning drink with him. She, however, didn't seem worried, beaming at him before continuing to read through the notes he had left strewn across the desk in his dazed state of departure the night before.

They continued to work in an amiable silence broken only to ask for a file or when passing a folder. By noon, Draco could take it no more. She seemed a little shocked at his abrupt questioning of her, but didn't seem as though she hadn't been expecting it.

She sketched out the main events of the past few days for him: She had returned home for her notes to find Terry and the definitely female Alex otherwise occupied on their sofa, evidently not anticipating her arrival. She had very nearly hexed off Terry's most treasured possession in the heat of her anger, before blasting apart the coffee table and apparating to her friends' house.

From there, she had been quite overcome with emotion and had been greatly comforted and calmed down, and reasoned that she perhaps needed space from Terry. They insisted that she stay, and had even gone as far as collecting work from the office that she needed to continue.

At this point, Draco interjected that he was familiar with this part of the story, as she smirked and assured him she had been assured of the great help that he was. He rolled his eyes and gestured that she continue on, a bubble of hope forming in his chest.

She then proceeded to explain that Terry had come to see her that night, insisting that they talk about what had happened. She had agreed to meet with him the next day, explaining her absence, and they both spoke honestly and openly about their feelings.

Draco felt his stomach drop once more as she went on to describe how they decided to put the whole sorry mess behind them and move forwards together, remaining as a couple.

He couldn't believe it. This fiercely independent and courageous Gryffindor was taking back a man that had cheated on her, labelling it as a 'sorry mess'? That wasn't right.

He went as far as asking if she wouldn't mind submitting to tests to check for Obliviation or being influenced by Amortentia, when she snapped at him that it had in fact been her decision that they stay together. Their voices raised as they barked back and forth on her ridiculous judgment, with Draco deliberating aloud as to why such a talented witch could possibly reduce herself to being content with such a sham of relationship.

Her bellowed reply stunned him as she screeched back that she was never going to find anything better, or be worth more than that. His laughter of incredulity had perhaps not been the best response, and she had clearly not taken it as disbelief at her assessment of self-worth.

He was sent reeling when an exasperated throw of her arms into the air had given him a clear line of sight of her left hand.

He was down the corridor and in a lift heading for the Atrium when the suffocating panic finally allowed him to breathe, the image of the pathetic ring ingrained into his memory.

She had agreed to marry the fool.

His world felt as though it was crashing down around him.

He had stumbled out of the fireplace into his living room by the time he realised that he had left everything in the office, including his wand. He collapsed onto a plush sofa and for the first time since the hideous war years ago, he let out a few small tears.

He couldn't be sure how long he had stayed that way, with an arm flung across his face, hiding the wet, salty tracks from the world, not that any could see him at that moment. The sun was beginning to set when he eventually rose, the need to relieve himself becoming too urgent, before staggering back to the still lit fire, firewhiskey bottle in hand.

Draco rubbed his eyes at his recollection of the past few days, draining the last of his glass and bitterly knocking the empty bottle to the ground. He leant his head against the high-backed chair, the alcohol making his lids heavy as his eyes slowly closed, wishing he had never taken the damned job in the first place.

The cool sensation on his forehead was welcomed by Draco as he steadily came to his senses, the feeling of soft fingers brushing his dishevelled fringe from his eyes appreciate.

He slowly blinked his eyes, and certain the sight before him could only be a dream, he looked deep into the eyes of the woman kneeling before him. The woman he loved.

'Hermione.' He croaked, his voice rough from the afternoon's generous helpings of firewhiskey. He closed his eyes again, resting his head against the back of the chair, just her name brought a heaviness to his chest and a lump to her throat.

'Hermione.' He repeated. 'If only you knew.'

'If only you'd told me.' His imagination whispered back, the image in front of him remaining as he opened his eyes once more.

'You would never understand. You would never feel the same.' He told his dream woman. His honesty no longer surprised him, after his own self-revelations not two days prior.

'You're so wrong.' Dream Hermione smiled at him. Draco wondered why his subconscious was treating him so cruelly.

She reached up to stroke his warm forehead once more, as he closed his eyes at her touch and groaned.

'What's wrong?' She asked, as her fingers swept down his cheek and along his jawline.

'I wish...' He began, his voice breaking slightly. He swallowed before starting again. 'I wish this, us, could be real. I wish you were mine...' He broke off, unsure if he could go any further and begging his mind to let him wake from this torture.

She placed her hand over his, her fingers caressing his own.

Her cool and gentle fingers.

Her fingers that felt far too real for a dream.

He gasped, his eyes flying open as he studied the form before him.

'Gr... Granger?' He stammered.

She smiled again, as she pulled him forwards, leaning her own forehead against his.

'You are the biggest idiot I know, Draco Lucius Malfoy.' And she tilted her face to press her lips against his.

'A dream? You thought she was a dream?' Blaise Zabini burst into laughter, the food on the fork held halfway to his mouth slipping to the plate below.

'I've got to say, Malfoy, I've heard a lot of stupid things in my time, but this probably tops it all.' Harry Potter wheezed out around his own guffaws.

Even his wife, Ginny Potter, sat with her head in her hands, trying to stifle her own giggles, as Pansy Parkinson went ahead and let the tears of laughter roll down her face openly. Ron Weasley was the only one that remained fairly unperturbed, more concerned with second helpings of the Malfoy-Granger home-cooked food instead.

Draco turned to look down at Hermione, sat next to him at the dining room table, a blush tinting his cheekbones as he grinned at her.

She reached up to brush his fringe out of his eyes, and familiar action and one that he loved, as she kissed his cheek.

'Well I thought it was romantic.' She murmured, her eyes lit with a passion he now knew well.

'Later.' He whispered in her ear, drawing back to wink at her, knowing they had all the time in the world.

A/N: I SINCERELY APOLOGISE FOR THE SICKLY SWEET CLICHÉD FLUFF OVERLOAD. Especially at the end. I tried rewriting. Apparently I'm not getting enough sugar in my diet at the moment.

I wasn't sure how I was going to post this, whether as a multi-chapter or just a one-shot, but seeing as later chapters would be mighty short, I thought I might as well stick it all together in one 4k+ story on its own. I have an enormous respect for you if you have made it this far.

There was a point to her name not being mentioned until the end. I can't remember it now. Sorry.

Right now, I'm procrastinating immensely. So here's the obligatory 'please review' part, it would be nice to know what you think if you have a chance. And here's the 'read my other stories please' part. The title is from MGMT's 'Time To Pretend', referring to Hermione's relationship with Terry. Remaining with him would fate her to a lifetime of a pretended relationship. Ok, so I think I've covered all my bases. So I should go and write my presentation.

Thanks,

SimpsonSortia