"What do you want?"
Draco quirked an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair. "Want?"
She scowled at him and pulled an envelope out of her bag, throwing it venomously down on his desk. The force caused the flap to open, and several pictures slid out.
They featured Granger's extremely recognizable face involved in a scene that would, even conservatively, be termed an orgy.
She wasn't engaged in anything illegal, but the very existence of the photos was career-ruining in a culture as fastidiously conservative as the British Ministry of Magic.
Draco only glanced at them for a few moments before looking back up at her.
Her cheeks were stained scarlet as she glared at him. "I assumed this envelope was from you—given that you're the only one who continues to see the need to interfere and try to destroy everything I do." Her voice was shaking and slightly choked. Her teeth were bared, and she looked nearly feral. "So—obviously: you. What do you want?"
Draco leaned back and gave her a hard smile. "Now, now, Granger, think of how much weaker an opponent you'd be if I hadn't been here all these years, going to all the trouble of bringing all your legislative loopholes and vulnerabilities to your attention."
His smile grew razor-sharp, and he laced his fingers together, resting his chin on the knuckles. "I must admit I was beginning to question whether I'd ever manage to knock you low enough that you'd finally come crawling into my office. However, even Muggles know the higher the climb, the longer the fall. It just goes to show that none of us are perfect—not even you."
His eyes peeled away from her, and he reached down to pick up one of the photos. He stared at it for several seconds while Granger seethed.
"Since we're here—alone—I have to ask," he finally said without looking away from the photo. "What on earth possessed you to do something this idiotic?" He glanced up at her. "You've had your eyes on the Minister's seat since before you graduated. You had to have known this kind of—indulgence had the potential to destroy all your dreams in a manner both permanent and spectacular."
He tsked and shook his head before flashing one of the photos at her. She immediately averted her eyes.
Granger's cheeks were stained red but the rest of her face was steadily growing whiter and whiter.
Her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before she swallowed visibly. "It wasn't my idea," she finally said in a strained voice.
Draco snorted. He was tempted to roll his eyes and assure her that that much abundantly obvious, but instead he waited to hear her try to explain it.
"It was—it was—" She looked as though she were on the verge of fainting in front of him. "He—he said I treated my job like it mattered more than our relationship. That I—always based my decisions on it, rather than him. It was—it was supposed to—" her throat bobbed, "to spice things up. I didn't know it was going to be—like that. He promised it was very discreet."
Draco snorted again and glanced at the date on the back of the photo. "Anything Pucey knows about does not fall anywhere in the realm of discreet. You should have asked me," he leered over the photo at her. "I could recommend several places that take the privacy of their clientele seriously—if this is your kind of thing."
His eyes slid over her, and then flicked back to the photos on his desk.
Her chest was heaving sharply. "What do you want, Malfoy?"
He cocked his head slowly to the side, laying the photo down and tracing his fingertips lightly over it. "Come now, Granger, put that oversized brain of yours to work. What do you think I want?"
