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"I hope you don't mean yourself!"
~Hermione Granger
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"You're supposed to add the Asphodel first!" 

"No, it says so in the book that the- oh."

Hermione ducked her head to hide the embarrassed flush that was creeping onto her face. Draco muttered furiously beside her, pounding the pestle so loudly that Hermione was sure the whole of Diagon Alley could hear him. It was her second day at work, and it was no better than her first.

Mr. Blak had set Draco to supervise Hermione in brewing Extract of Aconite, because Hermione had made the mistake of saying that she hadn't ever had a go at it before. So now she was stuck with a very irritated and a very irritating Malfoy.

"You're over boiling it!" He snatched the stirrer from Hermione and began stirring himself, turning the flame down.

"Just because I said I haven't brewn it before doesn't mean I can't do it myself!" Hermione said angrily, snatching the stirrer back from him, splashing some hot potion onto the front of his apron. 

"Tell that to Mr. Blak!" He dumped the contents of the mortar into the cauldron and slammed the mortar down. 

"Stop being so harsh!" Hermione was steadily losing her patience. 

"Stop stirring it that way, it's supposed to be slower!"

Hermione thought he was enjoying the fact that he could lord over her for the time being. 

She would give anything to bonk him over the head with a cauldron. Or she could just knock herself in the head with it and pass out for a few hours.

"Watch out!"

Hermione didn't have time to duck. Hearing Mr. Blak's shouted warning, Draco had quickly gotten out of the way of what looked like a Fanged Frisbee. 

Hermione wasn't so lucky. It hit her head with a loud and painful thwack and latched onto her hair. Its jaws clamped around clumps of her hair, and began gnawing on her scalp quite painfully.

"Get it off!" She tried to grab it, but it kept moving so that her hands couldn't get a strong grip. She already had hair fall issues, and this wasn't really helping.

"No I think it enhances the way you look," Draco was looking at her struggle, not bothering to hide how amused he was.

Hermione heard Mr. Blak leave the apothecary, yelling as he went, "IF I SEE ANOTHER RUDDY WEASLEY PRODUCT NEAR MY APOTHECARY- YOU, BOY, ARE NOT GETTING THAT BACK!"

Hermione grabbed her wand and pointed it at her head, "Immobulus."

The frisbee stopped moving, and Hermione pulled it out of her hair, wincing. As if reluctant to let go of her even in its immobile state, it uprooted several of Hermione's hairs. 

"No, no, put it back on, you look better that way," Draco was thumping his fist on the desk, shaking with laughter. 

Hermione tossed the frisbee at him, having lost all self control. It caught him square in the face. 

"OW!" He looked incredulously at her, with a hand clamped over his nose, "That hurt, you annoying-"

"Oh, I'm a annoying?" Hermione was now struggling with putting her hair back into its slightly decent state. 

"It could have bitten my nose off!" He said defiantly.

"Too bad it didn't," Hermione grabbed the frisbee and went to the front to deposit it on Mr. Blak's table. 

"You've ruined the potion, congratulations," Draco said when she got back. He was trying to pry out the stirrer from what looked like road tar. It looked worse than all the mess-ups Ron had ever made in Potions class.

"You're insufferable," she vanished the potion, and arranged all the ingredients in order again, "And I don't need your help this time."

"Have fun presenting your road tar to Mr. Blak," Draco spat, then stormed off to continue his own work of equally distributing a flagon of some healing potion into flasks.

Hermione rolled her sleeves up.

She'd show him, just wait and watch. She'd present an Extract of Aconite better than his. That would show him...yes…

Two hours later, Hermione walked briskly past a fuming Draco carrying vials of Extract of Aconite that were so perfect, Mr. Blak had said it was the best he had ever seen anyone make. 

"Bet you enjoyed that, didn't you, Granger?" Draco questioned in a satirical fashion. 

"I did, actually," Hermione nodded, "I proved you wrong."

"And that's why you're so happy?" He raised his eyebrows. 

"Yes, and also because I managed to brew it better than you," she said snidely. 

He didn't speak with her for the rest of the day, and made a particularly exuberant show of his lunch while Hermione left to eat her bagel and salad. 

At around three in the afternoon, Mr. Blak came to the back with a disgruntled look on his face,  "Malfoy."

Draco looked up from the Salamander scales he was pickling. 

"Miss Greengrass is here to see you," Mr. Blak said, spitting the words out disdainfully, "She insists on seeing you right now, and will not leave when I ask her to."

Hermione watched the expressions on Draco's face. He looked resigned. He placed his knife down on the table and took his apron off. 

"If she asks you to leave work early, I won't allow it!" Mr. Blak said threateningly to his retreating figure, then followed him to the front.

Hermione didn't bother with even stealing a glance at Astoria Greengrass. She knew her as the snooty, blond haired Slytherin a year below her. Hermione had no reason to want to see her. 

As she worked on cutting up some Dittany, she caught snatches of their conversation. 

"But Draco, you spend more time here than with me."

"I work here, Astoria."

Hermione couldn't help but smirk at how smoothly he said the words. 

"Blaise and Pans wanted to see us-"

"I'll meet them over the weekend. You can go if you want."

There was a moment of conversation which Hermione couldn't really hear. Their voices were lowered.

"I love you. See you at home."

The words, although kind and affectionate, were said with a certain forced air that made Hermione think that he didn't completely mean what he said. 

It was common knowledge that pureblood families often forced their children into arranged marriages. It wouldn't be a surprise if this was one such arrangement.

In the stained glass panels of the back door, she caught sight of the reflection of Astoria and Draco engaged in a short kiss. 

When Draco walked back to his work, his expression was unreadable. 

For a moment, Hermione thought she felt pity for him. Or maybe it was for Astoria. Surely, they both deserved more than just pretentious love?

Hermione didn't allow the thoughts to linger in her mind for much longer after that, because she knew that soon these thoughts would lead to her wanting to be compassionate toward him.

And she would not let that happen any time soon. 

Darkness fell outside. The crowds of Diagon Alley thinned to the drinkers and the drunk. A fitful rain began pattering on the roof, and clouds obscured the last dwindling rays of sunlight. 

"Good night, Mr. Blak," Hermione waved to him as she walked past. 

Draco brushed past her to the door. 

Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, "You're going to walk outside when it's raining?"

"Yes, why is that a problem?" He asked splenetically, looking at her from over his shoulder.

Hermione's nostrils flared, "Forget I ever asked." Hadn't she just promised to herself that she would not get compassionate with him?

"With pleasure." 

With that, he disappeared into the now thunderous downpour, turning left and walking smartly up the cobbled street. 

Leave it to Hermione and her overly kind mind to make her look like a complete idiot. 

Whatever. Stupid generous thought process.

Hermione calmed herself down and apparated home.