Selene, a newly appointed secretary, sat at her desk in the ministry of magic, her shoulder-length brown hair winding itself into tight curls as she lazily flicked her wand back and forth around her head. It is perhaps this activity which was responsible for a rather unexpected guest entering our protagonist's office unannounced. That, or the fact that ever since she had started working there, she did not seem to be able to concentrate terribly hard on her work. Either way, the subsequent activities proved to be rather scandalous to say the least.

There was a loud knock at the door, and without waiting for an answer a short and plumpish man walked in, an air of braggadocio fuelling his strident march into the office; an air, however, which was hastily deflated when his eyes met with the owner of the office. The plump man stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide.

"WHAT?" screamed the owner of the office, his blue eyes boring through his white-blond hair which lay shambolic around his face. The intruder mumbled something of an apology and backed out of the room unceremoniously.

Lucius Malfoy looked down at the dishevelled woman beneath him, lying supine on his desk. Her once immaculate hair had fallen into tangly disarray around her face. Opening her eyes she looked up at the blond man who, still breathing heavily, deftly lifted himself off the desk and walked to the window, rearranging his cape as he went.

The woman, who could not have been more than nineteen, sat up and began smoothing her hair in a somewhat futile attempt at decorum. She had been in love with Malfoy for almost two months now and, after swearing to keep her virtue until her wedding night, she now saw, standing by the window, the reason she had not. However, she had not anticipated that the event would be disrupted by such an unwelcome intrusion.

She began to panic. "If he speaks to anyone!" she whispered as she began to do up her skirts, but before she could continue he was by her side.

He stroked her cheek and whispered into her hair, "Was it not worth it?" as he began to wind her hair around his fingers.

She relaxed into him. "Though I admit, I hardly noticed him come in..." she began to smile, "I hope that we will not be subject to such interruptions when we are married."

He wound her hair further round his hand and pulled her face towards his, "I couldn't possibly tolerate such a thing," he said, releasing her and walking now to the door. As it opened automatically, Nanaea saw her cue and rose from the desk. She kissed Malfoy's cheek as she left and he smiled, raising his chin and watching her as she continued down the corridor.

Closing the door with a flick of his hand, Malfoy turned back to his desk. Shocked, though never letting so much as a flicker show, he stopped as he saw a woman sitting at his desk. She did not look at him, but proceeded to take a long silver pin out of her hair, letting loose a thick swathe of ebony which fell about her shoulders.

Malfoy fixed her in his sights, and, squaring his broad shoulders said, "I'm sorry but my window for desk sex has been filled quite amply already this afternoon, I don't think I will be requiring your services." He pulled the woman out of his chair unceremoniously and proceeded to sit down.

"Oh don't worry darling," the lady continued languorously, "It won't take that long..." She wandered around his desk, and adding as an afterthought, "It never does... "

With that, Malfoy stood up and marched over to her, "You bait me, Bella, only because you wish me to punish you..." The corners of his mouth turned ever so slightly as he watched her, trying to anticipate her next move.

She turned away from him. "If you mean to tell me that your meeting with Miss mud-blood Nanaea went further than anticipated, then I shall have nothing but disgust for you."

Malfoy went back to his desk and began shuffling papers, "Despite your objections, which I have no doubt are not founded solely on her parentage, it may surprise you to know that there is something so refreshing about a sexual encounter which is not... how shall I say this... so... rehearsed?"

The lady flushed and stabbed her hair pin into the desk, inches from Malfoy's hand.

"Ah," he said, leaning back, "Not so nonchalant after all are we?"

Bellatrix stiffened. "If you really have nothing better to do than play with mud-bloods... maybe you aren't as important as I thought..."

She stopped suddenly as Malfoy grabbed her hand, "You don't think it repels me that her mother is..." His lip curled up as if he were too disgusted to actually say the word. "It's sport, my darling Bella," he let go of her hand, "Nothing more." He returned to his papers.

Bellatrix jumped on to his desk, pulling him close to her by his collar. "If I didn't know any better my dear boy, I'd say you were getting soft." Kissing him deeply on his mouth she slipped her hand between his legs. "Oh... my mistake.."

She grinned, running her hands up his stomach and across his chest. "Anyway," she stated abruptly, pulling her hand from his robes and sliding back over the desk, "I too have more important engagements than you... Paris actually. The French are so much more... Well, actually that's just it.. . they are so much more... in every aspect... if you see what I mean."

She walked to the fireplace as Malfoy once again leapt from his desk and seized her in an iron grip. He pushed her up against the wall, slid his hand down her body and firmly between her legs. She inhaled sharply. Feeling every part of her skin start to tremble, she shut her eyes, and he touched her, pushing her harder against the wall...

"The French are... what were you saying?" he said, kissing her neck, then stopping he turned away, "I won't keep you."

Bellatrix recovered herself and, eyes blazing, shouted back at him. "It's always games with you, Malfoy... maybe you should grow up," she snapped, quivering with frustration, her usually cool and self-assured exterior vanishing in a second as she stepped into the fire grate and was gone.

Malfoy returned to his desk. Maybe you should grow up, the words lingered around him annoyingly. He was twenty-four years old, he should be free to obey the whims of youth, something which had not been so easy during his own ascetic upbringing. He could picture his father's contempt for his now rather hedonistic life style. And yet it was the memory of his father which made him feel uneasy... or rather the need to produce an heir of his own and carry on the prestigious Malfoy lineage. His thoughts, however, vanished in a heartbeat when, once again that afternoon, there was a loud knock on his door. This time, however, the door remained fastened.

"Come in," he called, leaning back into his chair. The same little fat man walked in, flustering as he did, and not quite meeting Malfoy's eye. Lucius Malfoy was a relatively new employee at the ministry and yet the combined forces of his esteemed heritage, and the glacially impervious demeanour he possessed, made him a formidable figure. Already he commanded more influence in the ministry than anyone of his age, and often more than those who had been there a great deal longer. The little man shifted on his feet.

"Lucius, I was talking to a mutual acquaintance this morning and it appears he has some information which I believe will be invaluable to you. He... er, wouldn't tell me what exactly... either way I told him to meet you at the winter ball this evening.. you are going are you not?" The man's question hung in the air as Malfoy looked into his eyes.

"What do you care of my affairs? ...And why could this 'acquaintance' not tell me this himself?" Malfoy was in no mood to humour this man, whom he saw as nothing but an irritant on the welcome repose Bellatrix' absence had given him.

The short man fidgeted again, "Let's just say, Lucius, that he made it impossible for me to refuse." With that, the man was gone. Malfoy let out a bored sigh and muttered a charm into a blue sphere which lay upon his desk.

"Selene, get my tailor in here as soon as possible will you? I have a ball to attend."