I don't own any of these characters. I also have done very indepth research of the ministry each department exists. I hope you enjoy the beginning of my story. I plan that each chapter should be about 1500-2000 words. I also hope that all of those who read these chapters and the entirety of the story when I am done I hope that you review. I need your feed back. Thank you. MDM
It was raining. The fog clustered the streets and the wind mightily played with the umbrellas that semi protected the busy muggles rushing in the early morning. He had wanted to walk for some reason. He didn't have to, surely Floo would have done the trick but walking… He never walked to work. Certainly he wouldn't even think of it in this weather. He fought with his umbrella, the wind nipping at it in gusts. Trying to pull it from his hands and take off with it. What was he thinking? Had his notion of common sense simply disintegrated with the bottle of fire whiskey he had willingly ingested not a night ago? He hated walking. Walking was… muggle. Why be primitive when you can be progressive? He had two more blocks to go. If he ran into an alley he could simply disapparate to the visitor's entrance. But no, his long legs kept striding. He felt the soles of his dress shoes become soggier; his black muggle slacks were soaked to the knee, and his cream colored fringe of hair had gone from straight to wavy. He swiped the curtain of hair with one movement up his hand out of his line of sight.
His blazer was ever so slightly beginning to take on water as a strong gust blew his umbrella to the side. He shook his head. He'd had gone daft it would seem, he ran his free hand through his cream locks and cleared his throat pursuing his soaking trip to work. He rushed across the street in tandem with at least forty other strangers. The streets of muggle London were unusually busy for a day such as this; he wondered where everyone had to go.
Each heel he heard click on the side walk was determined and almost rushed. Maybe they all had a communal want to completely sodden their work clothes and drudge through the twenty fifth day of torrential down pour of the century. Even for bloody England it was more than enough, surely the next week boats would be the choice transport for the city that never quits working. As he rounded the corner of Adelaide Street, he saw it. The crimson shine of a perfect warm and dry phone box, he quickened his pace and marched towards the suddenly empty street. It was absolutely barren from a living thing, except for the black cat hiding under an awning shielding from the chill water. The cement quickly turned into cobble stone and finally he reached out and opened the red door to the phone box.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please, state your business." A dull female voice called out to him.
"Draco Malfoy, Auror." He said calmly, his voice was clear, soft and deep.
"Next Level: Atrium." The monotonous voice rang out into the small phone box. He shifted his weight as the slight jolt of the lift slowly moving downwards into the ground.
"Have a good day." The female voice hummed as he stepped on the black marble floors. He took his ashen wand from his right inside pocket of his blazer. He merely flicked and his creamy hair revered into its natural straight manner tucked neatly out of his face. With another flick his wet clothes were replaced with long, jet black wizarding robes. He folded his umbrella and it quickly disappeared into thin air. He shook his wrist lightly and his briefcase appeared. He looked out to the masses that called themselves Ministry workers; he shook his head and pressed in through the crowd towards the lifts.
He walked quickly, eyeing the centre lift. That was his destination. His eyes drifted to waving hand already in the line up for one of the gold plated lifts. It was short young woman in lavender ministry robes. Her dark brown hair flowed naturally wavy just below her shoulders, a thick curtain of straight bangs covered her forehead and fell just long of the height of her eyebrows. There was a smile on her rosy lips.
"Pansy." He nodded at her as she made room for him in the line.
"Draco. Thought I saw you getting out of the visitor's entrance. Why on dear Merlin's grave would you walk on such a day?" She asked mildly giggling at him.
"Well, you know me and my ideas, Pans." Draco said trying to alleviate the subject from the simple lift chatter. The line quickly dissipated and allowed the two now fully conversing friends to enter into the golden lifts. Pansy pushed a button labeled "5".
"What did you get up to this weekend? We missed you at the Saturday night dinner." Pansy fished lightly. Shit. Draco thought inwardly. He had promised her he'd make an appearance but by the time Saturday had rolled around he had himself thoroughly talked out of the matter. Rather then dinning with old friends and significant new ones, he had spent the weekend trying to fix up the Manor's gardens. He sighed slightly.
"Sorry, Pans. I got caught up in my rejuvenation process." Draco watch Pansy only nod as a response.
"Level Five: Department of International Magical Cooperation." The same monotonous female voice that had called out in the phone box called to the lifts once again. Draco and Pansy burst out on to the black Marble floors of a quiet corridor. They walked in silence. Pansy started towards a black door in the black brick wall. The gold plate read "Pansy Parkinson: Presiding British Seat for the Confederation of Wizards." She stopped in front of it and she looked towards Draco's figure heading further into the corridor.
"Next Saturday, Draco." Pansy called to him, he stopped and pivoted to face her. He only nodded producing a small smile and watched her walk into her office. He started back towards the end of the hall and turned left. He open a large black door with his name plate. "Draco Malfoy: Head Prosecutor for the Wizenmagot."
Hermione rushed through the fireplace out into the black marble splendor of the Atrium. She looked at her watch and picked up her pace towards the lifts. The lines had diminished significantly. The morning rush nullified translation: she was late. She hated Monday mornings. They made the normally type A, stereotypical Hogwarts bookworm, slowly descend into Ron Weasley territory. She rushed into the lift pressing the 'two button.'
"Oi' hold the lift!" A very familiar voice called to her. Speak of the devil himself. Ron Weasley strolled in, his face brightening acknowledging one of his best friends as his lift mate. "Hermione, what are you doing here?" Ron asked as he stuffed the last bit of his bagel and cream cheese in his mouth.
"I work here." She said chuckling at her friend's face which reminded her some what of a hamster loading food into its cheeks.
"I know that. It's just I never see you. Your always leagues ahead of me by now. Hey, I got it! You're late. Hermione Granger: late for work." Ron covered his mouth in mock fear. Hermione punched him in the arm, and pushed 'Seven' for Ron.
"I hate Mondays." Hermione admitted to him looking down at her muggle work suit, she pulled out her wand from her briefcase. With a quick flick, gone were the muggle clothes and there were the long billowing robes of a member of the Wizenmagot. The lift doors closed and started to slowly descend.
"Hmmm… I tend to agree with you. The weekends seem to grow shorter. Speaking of weekend where were you on Saturday?" Ron said and absentmindedly brushed crumbs off his wizarding robes.
"Oh, I owled and said I couldn't make it." Hermione said calmly putting her wand back in her briefcase.
"Yeah, I know but I thought you had promised me you'd finally make it." Ron said looking at her seriously.
"Level Seven: Department of Magical Games and Sports." The obnoxious female voice rang out into the lift. The golden doors slid open Ron walked out but turned around. Hermione chuckled, the corridor was a mess, brooms, quidditch posters, and she could even see a snitch annoying a secretary.
"Hermione, next week." Ron said firmly but added a quick nod and a smile.
"Yes, I promise I will be there." Hermione said with a large smile, she waved quickly and just before the lift door closed Ron started to walk forward into the jungle that was his department. Hermione felt the lift jerk downwards; she hadn't expected that Ron would be so understanding. Each week for almost the last couple of months he had made her promise that she would come. He said it was important for her to come. People had missed her. At first she would just say that work was overwhelming but that was when she was new to her position. Now she had become very accustomed to everyday routine. She even found herself enjoying the job, she was doing something that slowly one by one was making a difference. Well of course it was no SPEW but she worked hard to keep the 'scum' off the streets as Kingsley so lovingly put it when he offered her the position. She was no Auror and each day she thanked Merlin that she wasn't. Harry loved it but it was too much for Hermione.
"Level One: Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Level One is for the administration and offices of the Wizengamot. Auror Department is on Level Two."
The repetitive female voice droned. Hermione walked through the opening of the lift on to the grey marble corridor. Her long black robes billowed behind her as she quickly headed for her office down the hall. Her large mahogany door was the vessel of home for and as she reached for the door knob she read the name plate and smiled inwardly. It read "Sitting member of the Wizengamot, Hermione Granger; Order of Merlin: First Class."
Thank you for reading please review. MDM