"Ahhhhh! I've had enough of this floo network crap!" The illuminating blonde headed wizard shouted with a large element of aggravation in his voice. "It's a load of bloody bollocks is what it is, and frankly, I couldn't give a damn about any of it!" His complaining suddenly becoming serious. His tall frame was hunched over a cluttered desk, books and odd bits of paper were scattered haphazardly about his work space. The veins in the wizards hands flexed as his long fingers gripped the desks' edge. It was as if he was channelling his previously pent up frustration into attempting to crush the dark, glossy wood with his bare hands. Usually he would be embarrassed to be caught in the vulnerable state that he was in but in this moment in time he didn't care, as the whole room of witches and wizards stared at him cautiously. The room was a communal office, filled with neatly arranged desks, which were all of the same variety and colour. The walls were a dull beige and usually the room was filled with the sound of quills scratching furiously at crisp parchment as the monotonous employees carried out their work. Not now. A silence engulfed the room and every pair of eyes looked away from their work and had their stare trained on the angry expression of their colleague.
The wizard finally looked up from his desk and violently kicked his chair from beneath him as he rose to his usual, tall height. His face was pulled into a frown, his eyebrows knitted together and the skin tone of his face was an angered red colour, contradictory to his usually pale complexion. With his shoulders drawn together he turned to stride out of the room, when something on his messy desk caught his eye, a black, wooden sign sat at the front of his desk with his name and department engraved in gold lettering on it. 'Draco Malfoy, Department of Magical Transportation'. He stared at it from what seemed, to him, like a lifetime before he picked it up in his hands and hurled it at the opposite wall. It hit it with a satisfying clatter and workers lifted their heads from ducking in attempts to avoid the sign hitting them in the face. They were wearily looking at the part of the room where the sign had hit the wall. On the floor beneath the wall, the sign had shattered in two. After studying the sign the employees turned back to face the wizard, but found that Draco Malfoy had already left the room.
Draco stared at his reflection in the dirty mirror of the Ministry of Magic's public toilet. He had recently splashed his face with cool water in an attempt to sooth the flaring red colour of his face. Water droplets ran down his skin and into his hairline, dampening his signature, almost white locks. His black tie had been loosened and now hung limply against his white work shirt. He looked into his icy grey eyes and sighed heavily. He was sick to death of hearing about how the floo network in some insignificant wizarding family's house is down and needs repairing. He didn't care that a port key had sent a traveling witch to Iceland instead of Greenland. He certainly didn't give a damn about how a Ministry Official had gotten his idiotic self trapped in one of the toilets within the toilet network used to transport workers in and out of the Ministry. He hated his job and he hated it with a passion. Three years he'd worked here, three terribly boring and similar years he'd wasted his life in an office job that didn't even come close to satisfying his ambitious hunger. Draco craved to strive in his profession and this job was putting a cap on his abilities.
Despite Draco's hate towards his job he still remained grateful that he was even working here, scratch that, he was grateful he was even sane. He was grateful to none other than Harry Potter, his school enemy and rival. Of course the title of enemy no longer applied to either of the men as Harry had been the one who had saved his arse from Azkaban after the Battle at Hogwarts which ended the wizarding war and the rein of Voldemort. Draco had been young, a teenager and was pressured by his father into joining the side of the Death Eaters, Voldemort's followers. Draco wasn't ignorant enough to deny the fact that he had wanted to join them but when he had signed up he had no idea what they were really about. Thinking back on that dark time made a nervous shiver travel up Draco's hunched spine. When Voldemort had fallen the Death Eaters were rounded up one by one and sent to Azkaban. Lucky for Draco, Harry Potter had supported him and told the whole wizarding world that Draco Malfoy wasn't evil at all, only misguided. Draco himself had never killed anyone, never harmed anyone, never done anything criminal apart from try to please his father. His mother and he narrowly escaped prison sentences whilst his twisted father is currently in an uncomfortably small cell in Azkaban, ready to rot in there until the day he dies. Not that Draco cares, his father was a bastard anyway.
Draco stopped himself thinking about his father and forced himself to deal with the issue at hand. He released his grip of the white sink basin and began pacing back and forth between the tiled wall and the toilet cubicles. Should he quit? The option was painfully tempting but something was pulling him back. What would he do if he quit? His only passions in life were playing Quidditch and reading the numerous leather bound books that he surrounded himself in at his local wizarding library. He couldn't play Quidditch professionally, he was good but not that good and he certainly couldn't read all day for a living. All these factors told him that quitting wasn't an option at all but the idea of spending the rest of his life working in this God forsaken hell hole made him heave. He couldn't do it, there was no way that he would be able to write on another form authorising the use of a port key. He had to resign. There had to be another job out there for him, he was sure that given time the perfect opportunity would arise, it had to. So without giving himself another second to contemplate his decision any further, Draco left the bathroom and headed towards his boss' office.
A small, petite, middle aged witch sat behind her desk as Draco Malfoy burst through her office door. His features were consorted in determination and his assertive voice cut her off before she even opened her mouth. "Before you scold me on knocking on your door before entering, I would like to say one thing; I don't care. And before you tell me off for being disrespectful towards a superior member of staff I would also like to say; I don't care because I quit." and with that Draco Malfoy stormed out of the room and his boss was left speechless.