Hello friends! Please enjoy my new fanfic. I had an older one uploaded under this user name called "Ruin". My heart wasn't in that one anymore, but this story has a very similar premises, but better (I hope).

Also, I own know of this fantasy world, sadly.

Happy reading.

Draco Malfoy wondered if it was possible to die from sheer lack of mental stimulation. He thought it must have been as he could swear that he felt his brain leaking from his ears.

You see, Draco Malfoy was a paper pusher. A Ministry paper pusher.

The large oak desk in his small office was littered with reports. This time of year was particularly busy for the Ministry as it was the end of their fiscal year and employees were rushing to get reports filed and approved. That's where he came in, at least for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He stretched his limbs carefully, mindful to not knock over any files over. A heavy sigh escaped his lips and he rubbed his temples, pushing deeply into his own skin. Another hour and he was free to go, back to his quiet cottage to spend the night in peace and solidarity. Just as the thought filled him with some semblance of joy, his door creaked open and a draft sent his papers ruffling.

A ginger head poked its way through the crack in the door.

"Uh, Malfoy?"

"Can I help you with something, Weasley?" The annoyance in his voice was evident and he had to physically stop himself from groaning. Ron Weasley took his question as an invitation to enter the tight space. His lanky body took up more room than Draco was comfortable with and he smelled faintly of stale coffee. He shoved his hands into his robe pockets before he spoke.

"I need that report I submitted last week. The one on Dolohov," Ron asserted with a touch of too much superiority for Draco's tastes. "Kingsley's been breathing down my neck and I can't afford to hand this one in late."

"Your incompetence is not my problem, Weasel. It'll be done when it's done," Draco drawled, shrugging his shoulders and leaning back into his chair.

"Listen, you git, I need the stupid report so if you –"

"And while we're on the topic of incompetence, do me a favour and invest in a spell check quill, yeah? Your spelling is horrendous."

"Whatever, Malfoy," Ron said, rolling his eyes, but the blush that spread across his cheeks betrayed his embarrassment. "Just have it on my desk by Monday."

He backed awkwardly out of the room, his sleeve almost getting caught in his rush to shut the door behind him. Draco took out his wand and gave it a slight wave, a thick folder flying out from under a larger pile. He had finish the Dolohov report two days ago, but someone needed to humble Weasley and it may as well be him. He was learning to enjoy the little pleasures in life. He set the folder to send itself on Monday afternoon and put the report out of mind. Another wave of his wand and his briefcase was packed. He gave his office a last visual sweep and headed out for an early weekend. After that encounter, Draco felt as though he had earned it.

The journey down to the apparition point was uneventful. He gave a few curt nods to some familiar faces and waved halfheartedly to Theodore Nott, but mostly he kept to himself. He caught a glimpse of Potter and Weasley making their way down to the Floo network and Weasley still looked like he was in a sour mood. A tinge of satisfaction settled within Draco by the time he reached his destination. He stepped into the designated area and disappeared with a crack.

Paper pushing complete.

"You look awful."

"Thanks, Pansy. Pleasure to see you too," he deadpanned to the woman already seated at the table. He slipped into his seat in front of her, slumping down.

"I'm just saying, Draco. You look like shit. You'd do well with some sleep," Pansy suggested, her pert nose scrunching up as she took in his appearance. "And a hair cut."

Draco didn't think himself haggard. It was just busy at work and he didn't have time to worry about his hair, which was very close to brushing his collarbone. He knew his eyes must have looked sunken and dull, dark circles permanently etched into his pale skin. At least his clothes were impeccable. Pressed grey slacks and a tailored white button down, clean and smart. Besides, there was no one to impress at the Ministry. There was a reason they had stuck him in a glorified broom closet and buried him under a pile of papers.

"I'm busy, you know that. I'll let you rip into my looks next week when I have more time to deal with it, yeah?" he asked her, only half joking. He really could use a hair cut.

The waitress stopped at their table to take their order. She was pretty, with bright blue eyes that lingered for a moment too long on Draco. Pansy looked irritated and cleared her throat loudly to capture the girl's attention. "I'll have the quinoa salad with the lemon vinaigrette. "

"Yes, ma'am," the girl replied nervously. She turned to Draco once again and beamed. "And for you, sir?"

"The steak. Medium rare," he ordered, handing the waitress his menu.

"And do bring another bottle of sparkling water when you've finish ogling my friend," simpered Pansy. She handed back her menu with a smile and watched as the girl squeaked and hurried off towards the kitchen. "It is so hard to find good customer service these days."

"Was that really necessary, Pans? She's probably going to spit in your food now," Draco pointed out.

"She won't if she knows what's good for her. I don't know how you stand it anyways, all the staring, it's a complete invasion of privacy," continued Pansy on her tirade.

"She wasn't staring, she was admiring," clarified Draco. "It's a nice change from the usual contempt filled glares, really."

"Touché," agreed Pansy, picking up her glass and downing her water. The next fifteen minutes passed without much incidence. The conversation was light and flowed easily from topic to topic, although Pansy had a habit of carrying most of it. Draco was used to her boisterous personality, they had, after all, been friends for years. If he really thought about it Pansy was one of the only true friends he had left other than Blaise. It was no surprise how quickly people scattered and turned their back on him once the war came to an end. But Pansy had stayed along with Blaise, both damaged in their own right, their worldviews shaken to the core. They were just kids forced to turn on everything they had ever known and somehow they had all come out the other side relatively unscathed.

When the food arrived – delivered notably by a different waitress – Pansy brokered a change of subject, a determined look in her eye. "May I ask you something?" she started as she neatly refolded the napkin in her lap.

"Would it make a difference if I said no?" Draco sighed.

"Quite right. Well." She took a deep breath and locked her green eyes onto his, "Draco Malfoy, look me in the eyes and tell me the truth. Is Blaise proposing to me in Milan next week?"

"How should I know," scoffed Draco. "Do you really think Blaise and I sit around and chat about your relationship all day?"

Truth is, that's exactly what they did. Not by any choice of his. Every other word out of Blaise's mouth was Pansy this and Pansy that and I miss Pans. His eyes glazed over every time he spoke of her. Draco supposed that's what being in love felt like; all consuming and utterly mind numbing. And of course he knew that Blaise was proposing, he had been the one to set him up to the jeweller that crafted the ring. A deep beautifully cut emerald stone flanked by two smaller diamonds. He had only watched Blaise open and close the box a hundred times since it had been finished.

"I know for a fact that you and Blaise have met a total of six times this month, that's two more than usual," Pansy pressed on, pointing her fork at him.

"Merlin, woman!" he chuckled. "Do you have a tracking spell on him? You sound insane."

Pansy raised a perfectly plucked brow and smirked. "I will neither confirm nor deny that accusation, but your defensive nature tells me all I need to know."

"You really are certifiable, remember that when you spend the next week griping over whether or not its going to happen," Draco said, shaking his head and turning his attention back to his half finished steak.

"Darling, you know me better than that," admonished Pansy. "Why would I need to gripe when I can find out exactly what I want by asking the right questions?"

"You missed your calling as an inquisitor, truly."

"Anyways," she sighed. "Do me a favour and keep next summer open, I'm thinking of having a July wedding."

"Sure, Pans. I'll make sure to clear my ridiculously busy schedule, desk work takes up my weekends all the time" he agreed sarcastically. Pansy chewed thoughtfully on the last bite of her salad, regarding him with what he thought was an expression of pity.

"Still no luck on the promotion front?" she asked.

Draco shook his head. For the last six months, rumours had been floating around the Department of Magical Law Enforcement that Cormac McLaggen was leaving his job as an auror to pursue a position with Gringotts Bank. This left his position of auror wide open with no foreseeable plans of succession as far as Draco was concerned. But it was a pipe dream, or at least it was for him.

"To be honest with you, I haven't even asked," he admitted. "So they don't even know I'm interested."

Pansy rolled her eyes and frowned at him. "Come on, Draco. This isn't like you. You would have never let an opportunity like this pass you by. Where's that Draco? The Draco who would go after exactly what he wants?"

"That Draco ceased to exist four years ago."

"Don't be so dramatic," she said, exasperated. She waved a hand in his direction and settled it on his arm in what he assumed was supposed to be a comforting gesture. Instead, he felt slightly peeved, her perfect manicure digging into his arm and her gaze levelled and insistent.

He pulled his arm back and rubbed his forearm unconsciously, careful not to pull up his sleeve. "I'm serious. If it wasn't for golden boy Potter I'd probably be shut away in Azkaban."

"Bless his heart, he truly is useful for something," Pansy said, semi-mockingly, but lacking her once practiced malice. "Why don't you talk to him then? Surely he can pull some strings for you, surpass chain of command-"

"Now I really know you're crazy," chuckled Draco. "I'd rather spend a night with Millicent than ask Potter for a favour."

"How rude. Millicent is perfect lovely. If a little rough around the edges…" she finished off the last part under her breath. "Isn't being an auror important to you? Or do you prefer to die a perfectly ordinary death in that broom closet they dare to call an office?"

He didn't answer. Of course it was important to him. And of course he didn't want to waste away at his desk job. But if there were two things that Draco was familiar with it was loyalty and a sense of duty. The only two things keeping him from daring to ask for handouts or favours. This is just the way it had to be, a mediocre life with a mediocre job, remaining as invisible as possible until he faded from living memory.

"Your silence is absolutely deafening," said Pansy sarcastically. "Listen, you've paid your debt, Draco – far longer than we've paid ours. You were just a child. Let it go. Everyone else has! I hate to break it to you, but no one gives a shit what happens to you, so you may as well start living."

"You know," he answered thoughtfully, "I can name a few people who would still love to take a swing."

"Add me to the list. You're insufferable. I don't know how your dear mother puts up with such a brooding child," she mused.

"And I don't know how yours puts up with such a pushy witch."

"Who do you think I inherited it from?" she said with a grin.

"Touché," Draco conceded, a nod in her direction.

"Promise me you'll think about it," finished Pansy. "I think it would be a good exercise in character for you. Merlin knows you need some of that. Besides, as the best man at my wedding you'll have many expenses, so the pay raise would be wonderful."

"Well in that case, I'll schedule tea with Potter tomorrow," Draco deadpanned.

"Wonderful, I knew you'd see it my way eventually. All you needed was a little bit of perspective," she said as she tossed some galleons onto the table and got up, smoothing out the wrinkles from her pale pick skirt. "Anyways, I'll see you when I get back from Milan, most likely laden with a particular piece of jewelry."

"I'll be waiting with bated breath," he said, also rising from the table and contributing to the galleons. He walked outside with Pansy, passing the ogling waitress, her eyes now downcast. He scowled. Pansy always did know how to ruin the fun in her own special way. He gave her one final hug and a quick kiss on her forehead before he apparated from Diagon Alley.

Mercifully homebound.

Hope you all enjoyed that little intro chapter! Please leave a review and feel free to PM me with any questions or suggestions. I will be back soon with an update. Next up: our fave bookworm!