As Much As I Ever Could {dramione}

Chapter 1

"I'm in love."

"Mm." Hermione shuffled a few papers on her desk. Where were those reports?

Draco sighed dramatically. "Really, Granger."

"No, no, I'm listening-- pass me those papers please, yes, no, those, yes-- you're in love."

She really had no time for this. While she usually didn't mind Malfoy's occasional visit to her office, she was due to a meeting that she was presenting for in just under 20 minutes.

"This is a very serious matter and I wish you would treat it as such," he pressed two fingers atop her stack of envelopes to hold them in place, "this is my future bride we're considering here. The next Mrs. Malfoy. The woman who will carry my seed--"

" Please," Hermione groaned, her mouth puckering at the vile picture he was starting to form. "Spare me."

She sighed and leaned back against her chair, folding her arms in front of her. "You have ten minutes, starting now."

He matched her position, taking his hand from her desk and giving her a smug, pleased look. " Thank you. As I was saying, I've found a potential wife."

"Hm. And does she know she's been decided as the future Malfoy matriarch?"

"Well, not exactly. We've haven't actually spoken much--"

"Ah, so it's going well then?"

"I'm serious, Granger," he practically growled and Hermione's eyebrows raised at his genuinely serious tone. It was not one Malfoy often used. Sarcastic, smug, even sometimes playful. But never serious.

"Sorry," she deflated. "I'm sorry. Tell me about her then?"

Hermione's eyes flickered sideways to check the tiny clock on her desk. Perfect, she still had some time for Malfoy to exhaust his monologue and make it to the meeting on time.

"... and she's funny. Well, I think she's funny. She's either told a very funny joke or she made quite an offensive statement..."

Hermione wondered if she should change her shoes before the meeting. Did navy blue and black clash?

"... plus I don't mind arithmancy, it's not my favorite of course, but she..."

Maybe she should put her hair up. That was professional. Hair up? Hair down.

"What did you say her name was?" Hermione cut in.

Malfoy sighed, obviously perturbed that she had not been listening intently enough. " Olivia. Olivia Johanson."

Hermione blinked, her neck recoiling back in shock. "Fourth floor Olivia Johanson?"

"The one."

"Blonde, tiny? Has that weird tooth in the front, Olivia Johanson?"

"Watch what you say about my bride, Granger," he grumbled, wiggling a finger in her direction. "You should be the last to talk about unfortunate teeth."

Hermione subconsciously licked her top row of teeth to ensure they were still all perfectly straight. And then another thought occurred to her. " Muggleborn Olivia Johanson?"

Malfoy threw his hands up, his face the picture of relief. "Welcome to the conversation, Granger."

She ignored him. "You want to make a Muggleborn the next Mrs. Malfoy?"
"I do."

"And you don't think your father will return from hell if you do?"

"Cheeky."

Hermione leaned forward, her hands braced in front of her. "Seriously Malfoy, you think you'll get a Muggleborn to marry you?"