I had been silent for three years when I walked into the Ministry building, the click-clack of my heels echoing in my ears. I was still trying to find a job, but apparently no one was hiring a mute girl. Mum had cried at first, but now she had sort of accepted it, though she frequently reminded me that she missed hearing me sing while I helped her in the kitchen. And I had learned my lesson about disrespect.
I walked up to the front desk, tapping the bell so the young woman who was furiously scribbling things on a piece of parchment would know I was there.
"How may I help you?" she said, not looking up. I politely tapped the bell again and pulled one of my many notebooks out of my pocket. Hi, I'm Ginny Weasley. Which floor is the Job Management office? I ripped out the page and placed it on top of her be-scribbled parchment. I saw her brow furrow as she quickly scanned the note.
"Ginny Weasley? Is that you?" She looked at me over the counter. I recognized her immediately as Hannah Abbot, former Hufflepuff in Ron's year. I smiled and gave a little nod. She looked curiously at me. "Can you..." she began, then motioned towards her mouth. I shook my head, my stick straight hair jiggling a bit, causing my bangs to fall into my eyes.. She smiled sympathetically. My own smile hardened a bit; I had never like pity, even when I could talk. I never accepted money when people heard my surname, never took the extra help people gave me just because of my economical status. No sir, sympathetic smiles were highly unwelcome in the silent life of Ginny Weasley.
She looked back down at her parchment and saw my note again. "Oh, Job Management is on Level 7." She nodded towards the lift, then went back to her parchment. I wished for the billionth time that I had my voice. I wanted to catch up with her, see how things were going with her and Neville (Hermione and my mother kept me up to date on the gossip). I wanted to talk about funny memories at Hogwarts, and the time we had run into each other in the hall and my wand had accidentally poked her and she turned into a frog. We hadn't been very close, but I desperately needed more friends, or at least, more contact.
I sighed and receded to the lift.
--
I knocked twice on the door with a shiny bronze plaque reading "Job Management".
It opened magically and a tall skinny balding man sat at the metal desk, looking bored and lazily doodling on official Ministry stationary. He looked up at me and grunted. I sat down in one of the plastic red chairs in front of his desk and set my notebook down.
"Hi. Name please."
I picked up a quill off his desk and wrote my name, then passed the paper to him. He glared at it momentarily, and then looked up.
"What kinda job do you want, lady?" he grumbled, his voice quite deep.
I added a word to my former note. Receptionist. I pushed the note towards him.
He grunted again and asked the million-dollar question. "You can't speak?" He spoke slowly with extra enunciation, as though I were slow.
I shook my head, and then scratched a message onto my notebook. I'm cursed, not dumb.
"That's gonna be an issue, capiche?"
I nodded fervently, then tapped the other note again, Receptionist Receptionist Receptionist. I thought myself overqualified, but due to my lack of speech, apparently I was way, way under qualified. So much for working my arse off during seventh year for those Hermione-esque N.E.W.T.s.
He opened up a drawer in his desk and pulled out a thin file labeled "Reception". Opening it, a couple neon pink sticky notes fell out and he let out his signature grunt as he picked them up off the floor. I laughed; at least, I did in all respects except the noise factor. I don't mean to sound conceited, but I missed the sound of my own laugh. It was beginning to fade from my mind. Meanwhile, the Job Management guy (of which the title Job Manager sounded much too big) was leafing through what appeared to be all six papers in the folder.
He pulled out a couple and skimmed over them. Without asking me, he picked up his telephone (for these handy Muggle devices had come into fashion recently- imagine being able to talk to people miles away! Now that's magic,) and dialed a number. Grunt. I heard the buzz of a voice but I couldn't make out words.
"Yeah, it's Craig from Job Management. You still need a receptionist?" The person on the other phone was chattering away. Bill looked more bored than I felt. "Yeah, should I send her over? Okay. Will do, ma'am. Oh and miss? There's somethin' a bit different 'bout this girl." He glanced up at me, probably wondering if I understood what he was saying. "She can't speak, ma'am." The lady on the phone jabbered away at this, and Craig hung up. He looked back at me. "Okay, lady. They got an opening for ya in the Department o' Magical Transportation, Level Six." I nodded a bit sharply in thanks and turned to leave, as quickly as possible. "Wait! Miss?" Craig called.
I spun on the ball of my foot. I cocked her head and pursed my lips, as if to say, "What?"
"You forgot your notebook."
I snatched it, Craig grunted, and soon, I was safe inside of the lift.
"Level 6, Department of Magical Transportation," a cool female voice declared.
The ride ended all too soon.
I walked out onto the corridor, not knowing which office I was needed in. I walked to the first, marked Floo Regulation. The door was unlocked. The office was large, with paper strewn everywhere. There were maps marked with little green dots where I supposed the fireplaces of Floo-ing magic folk resided. An old witch looked up at me warmly and smiled.
"Are you looking for someone, dear?" Her voice was warm and her gray locks had little flecks of green Floo powder embedded in them.
I picked up my notebook, then looked about the tables for a quill. I found one next to an oblong object I supposed was used for allowing houses to Floo, but I had no idea how. I'm Ginny Weasley, the new receptionist. I showed her the note. I didn't tear it out; I was sure I would need it again before I went home.
The woman smiled at me, then kindly asked, "You're Arthur's girl?" I nodded. "Oh dear, we met when you were small. I'm Marian, Marian McDougal, an old friend of your father's." She smiled sympathetically, and I was about to write I don't need sympathy, thank you, but there was something in her eyes, a warmness that reminded me of the way my grandmother looked at me when I was little. I smiled back graciously and pointed back at new receptionist. "Oh, right across the hall, third door from the left. Broom Regulatory Control." I gave her a small hug and left.
The Broom Regulatory Control was quite large, with a small lobby area in the front and doors to several offices. I noticed the inside of the door was battered and dented as I closed it. There was an empty desk with numerous files and a sad looking office chair. I'd assume the former receptionist was a blond, with quite long hair, by the thin strands of clear hairs left on the chair. I wasn't sure if I was to just to sit down at the desk and work or wait for someone to show me around.
I decided I would knock on a door, but I wasn't quite sure which one. "Braking Charm Testing" "Flying Charm Testing" "Safety Charm Testing" and so on, until finally I reached one named "Management." It sounded promising, and the one most likely to not get my shoes dirty.
I knocked a couple times, and as with Job Management the door magically swung open. I had a feeling this would come in handy someday.
Sitting in a wide office with a mahogany desk and windows charmed to have a view of Big Ben (I always was surprised that the Ministry building was underground) sat none other than Draco Malfoy. He wore a white oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled past his elbows and a silky green tie. I suppose he never thought to wear anything but Hogwarts attire. He glanced up from the report he was reading and lazily took notice of me, then back at the paper.
"Finally, the new receptionist. It's about time, honestly," he said hotly, setting down the paper. He signed it, a green flourish. You'd never guess he was a Slytherin, really. I stared menacingly at him as he played with the bottom of his tie. "You got a name, then, or are we simply to call each other Boss and Receptionist. Though feel free to throw some adjectives in front of Boss." I looked up at him in a "Are you freaking serious?" way.
I shoved my notebook at him, pointing at the page I had showed to my dad's friend. I'm Ginny Weasley, the new receptionist.
He looked at it curiously, then back up at me. "Weasley? I swear, Job Management has a sick sense of humor." Especially if they hired you, I thought. How I longed for speech right now, I would have torn this boy apart.
"So can you talk?" he asked. I shook my head vigorously and folded my arms. "Great. Just dandy." He rolled his eyes in annoyance. It was better than pity, though I wouldn't have expected that out of my new employer. "Okay. So here's what you do. If people come to visit and I'm busy, write that down. If a worker complains, write that down. If something goes wrong and I'm not here, write that down. You catch my drift," he drawled, as if this was some rehearsed thing he was forced to say. Which it might have been, now that I think about it.
I pointed to myself and then at the door.
"You want to leave? Fine by me. They've got other receptionist jobs, I'm sure." He smirked. I pursed my lips and shook my head. I pointed again at myself and then back at the blasted door.
"You want to... go outside?" He was starting to lose his patient. Sodding Malfoys, I cursed in my head.
I motioned for the billionth time at myself and then opened the door to point at my desk.
"You know, we wouldn't have this problem if you were better at charades," he commented, raising a clear eyebrow. My nostrils flared and my jaw clenched. I picked up my notebook again and scribbled May I go to my desk now, my self-centered boss? I half-smiled at the casual raising of his eyebrows in disbelief.
I left before he answered, almost forgetting my notebook, and sat down at my desk.
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A/N Ah, first bits of D/G banter. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Oh and in the previous chapter: Lyutbishka, the gypsy woman's name, is a Romanian name meaning "love." FYI. :D
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