It was just another day at the Ministry of Magic. Other than being unusually hot and stifling in the building, things were going on as usual, running on routine and slightly behind schedule – like usual.

Then, slowly, the sun crept up to its highest spot in the sky, and the dreaded (and highly anticipated) "hour" began. The lunch hour.

Tonks tried to elbow her way through the thick crowd of people, but even after making herself slightly slimmer, she knew there was no chance. With a sigh, she resigned herself to trudging along behind the tall man in front of her. Unfortunately, the crowd extended a good hundred people in front of that, and she knew they were going to be stuck for at least ten minutes.

She tapped her foot, slowly growing impatient. No one seemed to be moving at all!

What kind of a zoo was it? The Ministry of Magic was supposed to contain Wizarding society's best, most pragmatic, logical Witches and Wizards! However, it seemed that no one knew how to unclog the backlog of people in the corridor between the Auror office and the cafeteria.

She considered a few options, because her stomach was beginning to rumble and she had a meeting directly after her allotted hour for lunch. She could either: forcibly push her way through the throngs of people – and risk her life, for it was easy to get pushed down and possibly trampled in the masses of people. Or she could, of course, use her Metamorphagus skills to shrink down… but then she might get stepped on. She wasn't allowed, by law, to use magic to transport herself within the Ministry.

"Oi, hurry up!" A voice behind her rang out, audible even over the general murmur of the crowd.

Someone shouted back, "Shut it. It's moving, it's moving!"

There was a decidedly loud, "Hrmph," but there was no answering call. Tonks felt her hair go through a few shades of red, but tried to keep a calm head. When she was sure it had turned back to its usual delightful shade, Tonks looked to the person stuck behind her.

Inwardly, she groaned, but she had already made eye contact and it seemed rude to ignore him. "Oh, hello, Dawlish."

He nodded at her, "Hello to you, too."

An awkward silence filled with some jostling filled the air as the group of people slowly began shuffling forward.

"Hmm… looks like it's clearing up a bit," he commented, running a hand through his very short grey hair. Tonks tried to suppress a giggle at the sight; it seemed that he had gotten into the habit as a younger man, and still couldn't stop, even with no hair to run fingers through. Her chuckle was hastily covered up by an obviously fake coughing attack. Dawlish seemed to flush a little, and looked down to the floor.

"Yes," she said after she recovered. "I do hope it does soon, else I'll have to resort to an Unforgiveable or something… I'm famished!"

Dawlish chuckled, wagging a finger at her jokingly, "Now, Tonks, don't think that just because we work together, you can threaten such things."

She joined his laugher, if only to avoid silence. "Yes, well – oh! Yes, finally!" She let out a whoop at the sight of space in front of her, stepping forward eagerly to fill it. Looking over her shoulder slightly, she said, "Now there are only a few hundred more steps to go. What fun, huh?"

Dawlish nodded back at her, shaking his head in mirth.

The line progressed that way for a few more minutes, seeming to thin out slowly.

Right near the door, Dawlish appeared by her side again, "Hello again!" He said. "Thank Merlin we're here. The smell has been making me feel hungrier than I am, and… oh, I hope they have some of those delicious sandwiches."

Tonks rolled her eyes, but nodded along. "I agree," she said. "I'm tempted to trip the people in front of us – jinx them, maybe – because I feel so hungry."

Dawlish gestured to her, and Tonks obediently tilted her ear to his lips, so that he could tell her something. "I suspect none of these people – many are from the Magical Creature Care and Safety wing – have gone through the training we have, if you know what I mean."

Tonks grinned at him, imagining the many curses they'd learned about in the years of being Aurors. The Aurors themselves had trained to fight the curses, but common civilians – and Magical Creature Care and Safety workers – hadn't. "Hilarious," she confessed. "Unfortunately, it would be immoral to exploit their weaknesses. Fun, but immoral."

Dawlish shrugged, and then pointed. "There! A spot in the line. Run!"

Tonks rushed forward, stepping into the line. She let out a sigh of relief, finally entering the cafeteria with less than twenty minutes left from the original hour. She grabbed a tray and looked around the room, looking for the food. When her eyes landed on the oily, greasy, brown-coloured mush they considered food, she had half a mind to turn tail and walk right out.

A growl from her stomach reminded her that running out was no option, and she reluctantly asked for the least-fatty of the food options. Even that soaked through the plain brown bag they packed it in momentarily.

Tonks began eating after all but kicking someone out of a spot ("I have Auror business soon and need to eat," never failed to work). She had just taken her first bite of the food – which, in all honesty, tasted only marginally better than cardboard – when Dawlish sat down beside her.

He nodded at her tray, "Disgusting, what they serve us, isn't it?"

Mouth full of food she really didn't want to swallow, she nodded. "Yes," she managed.

"See? The most fun things in life are either immoral, illegal, or they make you fat."

"Fun things?" Tonks swallowed slowly, and then shook her head in disgust. "Eating this slop," she pointed at the food. "Is not fun."

Dawlish laughed then got up. "Sadly, neither is work, which we need to get back to in less than five minutes."

Tonks groaned, got up, and groaned again at the size of the line out of the cafeteria. She threw her things into the garbage, unable to eat anymore and fearing for her digestive tract, she raised her head and pushed through the crowd.

Once she arrived in her office, feeling much better after escaping the claustrophobic feeling of the corridors, she began smiling uncontrollably. "Who knows," she said. "Immoral things might just grow on me."

Then, she caught sight of the paperwork she had to fill out and dropped her head on her desk with a thump. Yes, it was just another day at the Ministry.

This was written for the The Quidditch European Cup Competition, round two, by middleofsomewhere. I had the setting "Ministry of Magic" and the prompt: "The most fun things in life are either immoral, illegal, or they make you fat." –Anonymous. Go check out my teammates WentToManderleyAgain, kitty132383, and annaisadinosaur. Go Wigtown Wanderers!