Snow pattered against the glass pane of a window at Malfoy Manor, the relentless whirring of the wind outside made Draco Malfoy glad he could just floo into the Ministry for work that morning. There was nothing he hated more than winter; it was beautiful and ice-cold, much like many things in Draco's life - or perhaps just like his life itself.

Entering the dining room, Draco found that the table was completely unoccupied. Breakfast had been served by the house-elves but neither of the two plates that were left for use were touched. Stifling a groan, Draco pulled out his chair and sat down before calling out to his twelve year old son.

"Scorpius!"

The waves of his voice carried out through the desolate house, echoing back in his ears. A house-elf by name of Banksy appeared in front of the table, blinking it's wide eyes rapidly. "Does Master need Banksy to summon Mr. Scorpius?"

Draco sighed. "Yes, Banksy. I would appreciate that very much." The house-elf nodded and vanished into a thin cloud of smoke. Draco reached for the fruit bowl, his appetite had dwindled since. The house was so quiet that Draco could hear his own steady breathing loud in his ears. Polishing an apple, he bit into it and decided it would have to do for breakfast this morning.

Then Scorpius shuffled into the dining room, head hung so that the top of his sleek, white-blonde hair was completely visible. "You called me, father?" he mumbled.

"Speak up when you talk to me," Draco ordered and Scorpius lifted his head obediently. "How many times must I tell you that breakfast will be eaten at 9am sharp and no later?"

Scorpius let out a breath. "I wasn't hungry."

"I don't care. Take a seat and join me for breakfast." Draco took another bite out of his apple while his son pulled out the chair farthest from him, sitting down with exaggerated movements before moving pancakes and fruit slices into his plate. "I just don't understand you. Is it not fair that I should expect the courtesy of my son having breakfast with me each morning? Or have I gotten too old for you?"

"None of that," Scorpius said quietly and then cleared his throat, sending a sideways glance at Draco. "I just think nine is a bit too early for breakfast."

Draco ignored the comment and threw the finished apple core into a waste basket before rising to his feet. "I'll be off to work. I expect you to spend your morning studying for the Charms test you have after the holidays conclude." Scorpius didn't look too pleased with that. Draco shrugged on his black trench coat. "If you would like to leave the house for any reason, contact me through the floo first . . . and if you don't, I shall know."

"Yes, father," Scorpius said and Draco nodded at him.

"Have a good day."

XX

Like most winter mornings, the Ministry's atmosphere was dull. Employees were rushing around but their faces were worn out and diminished. Draco nodded at those who greeted him with less-than-enthusiastic 'good morning's, because it was not, in matter of speaking, a 'good' morning. A snow storm seemed to be impending and the howling wind outside was an explicit augury of that.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco stopped when he heard his name being called and turned around for the owner of the voice. A scrawny blonde woman scurried over to him, a folder tucked underneath one arm and a steaming cup of liquid in the other. "Marie, good morning," Draco said, sounding like a Muggle's broken record. His tongue had gotten so used to saying it without meaning.

Marie Aberdeen, Draco's secretary, smiled, nodding her head. "Good morning to you too. I have the records you asked me to copies of. They're right here." She lifted a shoulder as a gesture to the folder under her arm. Draco understood and plucked the beige folder from her, flipping through the many records organized safely inside.

"All A through to Z?" Draco asked with a cocked eyebrow. Marie nodded. "Damn, Marie. How long did you spend?"

"Oh, it didn't take long," Marie breathed but Draco could easily see through her. She stretched out the steaming cup to him. "I also got this for you . . . Black tea. You said you liked it last time."

Draco pursed his lips and took the cup from her. "I did, didn't I? I just didn't expect you to remember that." The warmth of the cup spread throughout his palm and within an instant, he felt his shoulders relax and his features brighten slightly.

Marie shrugged. "It was nothing. I was down by the cafe and I thought I'd get you something." She tucked a piece of her wispy blonde hair behind her ear and turned around.

"Wait, Marie," said Draco and she quickly faced him, wondering if he needed anything - which he always did. "Could you do me a huge favor?"

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco brushed a hand through his mussed hair. "I'm trying to drop a case . . . There's way too many people working on it right now. And, you see, it's a bother writing up a formal request to the Head of the Department. I was wondering if you might find time to get the letter part down for me?"

"Oh, well . . . I could," Marie said, glancing around. "But isn't it illegal to forge your signature?"

"Marie!" Draco couldn't help allowing a loud laugh pass his lips. "I don't know how you can manage to be so quirky so early in the mornings . . . I like that. Anyway, just write the letter and bring it over to me, I'll sign."

Marie laughed nervously. "O-Of course . . . er - glad you liked my joke." Draco sent her a smile, taking a careful sip of his drink.

"Thank you so much, you're amazing. And so is this, by the way." He gestured to the cup and Marie nodded meekly. Draco made his way toward his own office. The hot tea easily soothed the tension in his muscles and Draco found himself feeling much lighter than he did just minutes ago.

"Draco!"

Just as he reached his office, the mention of his name caused him to stop in his tracks. Hermione Granger ambled towards him. If he had not belonged to an exhaustive history with her comprised of judgement and sacrifices, Draco might have ignored her under the pretense that he hadn't heard a thing.

Unfortunately, aside from being the most well-known and respected (and annoying) witch in Great Britain, she was also the Minister for Magic. And Draco couldn't possibly show attitude to the Minister for Magic now, could he?

In the politest tone he could muster, Draco said, "No, Granger. I am not coming to your New Year's event."

"Yes, you are, Draco Malfoy," Hermione stated, thrusting her hands upon her hips. "It's really important that you be there, Draco. I already told my associates that you've been invited."

Draco waved his hand in a dismissive manner. "Well, tell them something came up. I'm sure it's not a crime that I don't show up." Granger sighed, batting her eyelids desperately.

"But you and Harry are our most skilled Aurors, it'll be a great shame if you weren't at the event - which, by the way, is a Ministry hosted event."

"You say that like it's going to persuade me, Granger," said Draco, bored. "I have other things to do. I know how jolly and chirpy you lot get around holidays but seriously, New Year's comes every single year. It's not special."

"Gosh, Draco, you need to get out more," Granger murmured with a shake of her head. Draco sipped his tea to swallow the rude remark he was about to make about Granger's own social life (how many friends did she have? besides potter and weasley. exactly . . . if Draco's calculations were correct, that rounded up to exactly zero).

"Will Potter be there?" Draco asked.

Granger seemed to mistakenly take this as a sign that he was coming - which it wasn't. "Well, if you're there, he'll certainly oblige me." She breathed in deeply. "Besides, I only need you there to speak a bit about how crime rates are declining steadily . . . Just to calm our citizens down."

"Oh, too bad," Draco sighed. "I've made my decision pretty clear. Can I go?"

"Fine," Granger huffed. "Fuck you."

Draco couldn't help raising his eyebrows in a disinterested surprise at her language. "What?"

"And by the way, I'm not giving you the key to your new office."

This caught Draco's attention finally. "My new office?"

"Yes," she tilted her chin haughtily. "I asked Mr. Fletcher to clear out the extra office so you and Harry won't have to share one anymore." Wow. Draco thought. That was very thoughtful of her. Being holed up in a cramped, unventilated room with Potter was taking a toll on Draco's mental state.

"But," Granger continued. "Your rude behavior has caused me to change my mind. I think I'll give the office to Neville -"

"Fine, I'll go to your event," Draco finally gave in. A victorious smile spread across Granger's lips.

"You promise?"

"What are we, twelve?"

"Promise me you'll be there, Draco," Granger pushed. "I don't tolerate employees who break promises."

Draco breathed in and gave her a tight smile. "I promise I'll come to your New Year's event - can I have the key now?"

Granger chewed on her lip before grinning and flipped around, swaggering away. "There's no key. The office is open."