Draco casually straightened his lapels after the Ministry toilet deposited him in the lobby. Ministry wizards and witches flooded past him on all sides, all pressing toward the golden gated elevators to be lifted up and away towards their dreary offices. The tall, blonde man squared his shoulders as he began to stroll in the same direction as the crowd, bracing himself for the day ahead of him. Not only did he have to deal with the Magical Permit office to clear some red tape that was holding back his latest business venture, it was very likely he was going to run into people who weren't his biggest fans. Besides the fact that he was commonly known as, Draco Malfoy: Former Deatheater, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were now prominent figures here at the ministry, working in the Auror Office and Magical Creatures Office respectively. Sources said Granger was angling to run for Minister of Magic in the next election cycle which was audacious considering she was a Muggle-born with no previous experience sitting on the Wizengamot.

He grimaced as he was pressed into a tightly packed elevator and the previously straightened lapels became ruffled again. The man next to him cleared his throat awkwardly and when he turned to look, Draco found himself pressed up against Ron Weaseley himself who looked horrified and had his gaze glued to the golden gate before them. Draco did the same as more and more people filtered out of the elevator until only a handful remained. And, of course, only himself and Ron Weaseley got off on the 7th Floor. The tension only became more awkward as they both continued down the same hallway, taking all the same turns. Draco had a moment of clarity as he remembered Ron was also a business owner and was probably headed to the permit office as well.

"How is business?" Draco nearly jumped as Ron broke the silence as they both came to a stop outside the door to the permit office.

"I-uh, It's been busy. Curse-breaking has been in high demand since…"

He trailed off as he realized how his current business was so deeply tied to the war that had made them enemies in the first place.

"And the Joke Shop?"

"Not quite as… necessary… as curse breaking. But the students at Hogwarts keep the doors open."

"I can't imagine that these people make it easy for you to sell your kind of products," Draco smirked as he gestured to the door before them. Ron laughed.

"Well, Hermione helps with that…" He smiled mischievously and Draco felt a smile creep to his lips, thinking of the bushy-haired goody-good of Hogwarts using her Ministry position to bend the rules for her… boyfriend? Fiance?

"Well, I guess we better get to it…" Draco trailed off reaching for the door handle and pushing it open. "After you."

When they stepped up to the counter the woman behind it looked frazzled as she shuffled through massive and disheveled piles of paper. It was several beats before she even acknowledged their presence. When she did, it was only with a millisecond glance at their faces before she continued her paper shuffling.

"You gentlemen will have to forgive me, we are slammed here at the office today. There's been an incident… It may be best if you come back another time."

"I'm sorry, Gina." The girl paused at the mention of her name and she smiled genuinely at the familiar freckled face.

"Ronny! It's you! I'm so sorry. We've just been slammed today with this incident with the illegal dragon eggs…"

"The… what?" Ron looked startled.

"Yes, some shop in Wales has been selling illegal dragon eggs but they produced a permit from our office that had to have been forged but now our whole department is running around trying to figure out how in the hell…"

"Have you seen Hermione about this?" Ron's brow was furrowed in clear concern. The woman, Gina, looked at him with wide eyes.

"Oh, Ronny, you really haven't heard about this. It's a little more complicated than illegal dragon eggs."

"Complicated?" Draco drawled. The woman glanced over at him a moment before returning her gaze to Ron.

"Yes, you see, some of the egg hatched and well…"

"A MUGGLE IS IN ST. MUNGO'S BEING TREATED FOR DRAGON FIRE BURNS. HOW DID THIS SLIP THROUGH THE CRACKS?"

A door on the other side of the room swung open and a livid Hermione Granger pushed into the room. She was in a professional set of robes but strands of hair were poking up and out from her bun like a crazed halo around her head and her cheeks were flushed a dark red.

"I just spent an hour trying to iron this out with the Minister and the Muggle Minister and the media is going to have a field day…" Her anger diffused a bit as she spotted Ron and it turned to confusion as she saw Draco at his side. She walked over to Ron, embracing him as he murmured comforting and calming words to her. When she looked quizzically at Draco he took a step back.

"I think I will just go. I was here to work on a permit I needed for a new project but the office is clearly swamped and it's not urgent so… I'll just be going."

"It was, nice, to see you Draco." Hermione intoned, not quite genuine.

"Good luck with your Dragon problem." He gave a slight nod to the couple slipping out of the office and back down the hall. His nerves were like live wires just from having spent time around people who once despised him and from the clear chaos flowing around the Ministry today. It wasn't even noon and he felt like he needed a drink.

When he sidled up in front of the elevator he began to relax as the ride down would be much calmer than the one heading up. There wasn't anyone else waiting beside him. He strode inside, pressed the button for the lobby and felt his hammering heartbeat slow as his anxiety ebbed inside the empty space. But, before the doors could close all the way, a slender female hand slid between them and they popped back open. The woman who entered and stood silently beside him was an unfamiliar face. She certainly hadn't gone to Hogwarts, at least not while he was there. But she looked about the same age as him and he thought she must be a daughter of one of the more traditional families who still chose to homeschool. Some wizarding families believed Hogwarts was too modern and progressive and didn't acknowledge the roots of witchcraft with Samhain and Beltane and the other Sabats. She was tall and brunette with her hair pulled into a low, neat bun and wearing what must have been very high-fashion robes. They were tightly fitted and they were very short and worn over a set of business trousers, a lace top and sky high heels. Her face was in a tight frown and her hands ticked in and out of curled fists. She was clearly in a similar mood to the rest of the ministry employees he had seen thus far. And, Draco didn't know why, but, he felt compelled to try and cheer her up.

"Rough day?" The woman through him a severe glance and then spit out a choppy, humorless guffaw. He smiled slightly at her. "Yeah, I've heard."

"I'm ready for a drink, to say the least."

"Already? It's not even noon!" He exclaimed in mock indignation.

"And I've dealt with enough this morning that it might as well be five. Know any good pubs near here?"

Draco smiled genuinely.

"Do I?"

Draco sat across the table from this woman he had met in the elevator, Eliza, and studied her face. She let every emotion flit across her face like she wanted it to tell the story of her thoughts. The whole way down Diagon Alley she had looked around in amazement, and now, sitting in a pub that's been here for years, she looked around at the decor curiously. She even sipped at her Butterbeer and seemed astonished at the taste.

"You're not from around here, are you?"

A sly, foam-covered grin covered her face as she shook her head.

"But you are British."

She giggled.

"Very much so."

He pursed his lips and furrowed his brows.

"A puzzle."

"Mmmm." She responded vaguely as she sipped her hot butterbeer again and turned her gaze out the large window they sat next to. For a long moment, they both watched shoppers bustling by, their breath clouding in the cold air. Most of them were bundled in large, voluptuous robes that flowed around their knees in the winter wind and with ruffled collars that bunched all the way up around their ears.

"Interesting fashion choices." She murmured.

"I think most of them would say the same about you." Draco nodded at her very contemporary set of robes.

"At least mine look reminiscent of the current century." She prodded without taking her eyes off the window she asked, "So what business did you have at the ministry this morning."

"None, really. Since I left without anything getting done." Eliza glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. "That Dragon scandal. It tied up the permit office. I needed to file some paperwork for a new project my business is pursuing."

"And your business is?"

"Curse-breaking." Her eyes widened and she looked impressed.

"How interesting." This time, her gaze did not spring back to the window. Instead of the hordes of people flowing past outside, she chose to study him. "Draco. Draco Malfoy."

He didn't know how to respond to her sudden and shrewd inspection so he staid quiet.

"You're quite important if I'm not mistaken."

"Depends on how you define importance."

"Old money, old power, old titles."

"And some newer ones." He rubbed at his left sleeve.

"Mmmm," She took another sip of Butterbeer. "Yes, that too."

He looked down and stared at the ice in his glass of whiskey as he swirled it around and around.

"You're an awful date, you know that?"

He looked up at her perplexed.

"Encouraging alcoholism by taking me to a pub at 11am, telling me I'm a puzzle," She rolled her eyes. "And then circling the conversation around to something dark and depressing. Didn't you ever learn to flirt?"

He stared at her with empty eyes.

"No. I was busy helping the Dark Lord rise."

"There you go again." She smiled as she said it. "Who would have thought I'd be this attracted to such a Byronic hero?"

He straightened and looked up at her with bewildered eyes.

"That's called flirting." She teased.

"You're so good at it. It's almost like you didn't spend your teenage years fighting a war."

"I didn't." She took another sip.

"Because you were…"

"Snogging boys underneath the bleachers." She smirked, "You know, at my muggle high school."

He continued to stare at her, his brow furrowed.

"I, you're…"

"Eliza Hampden," She extended a hand across the table for him to shake. "Muggle Prime Minister of the United Kingdom."

"Prime Minister?" Draco gaped.

"Youngest in over 200 years." She said cheerfully.

"And you thought my Curse-Breaking business was impressive?"

"Well, naturally. You won't see me breaking any curses anytime soon."

Draco nearly snorted the sip of whiskey he had been taking and felt the burn in his nostrils.

"No, I suppose I won't." Draco looked around desperately, completely uncomfortable with the turn this conversation had taken. Eliza chuckled and when he turned back to her, she was staring out the window again.

"I'm not sure which bothers you more, that I'm a Muggle or that I'm Prime Minister, but please, don't spare my feelings. You can leave if you'd like."

"No, I-I don't want to leave. It's just- It's not every day you sit down with a Prime Minister and also, you're a… Muggle." He finished lamely.

"I'm guessing you don't have much experience with those." Her lips curled faintly at the corners.

Draco gaped again, feeling like a fish, knowing that this was that flirting again. But he wasn't sure how to respond to her double entendre.

"I could help with that." She winked and he swallowed over a lump in his throat.