I really loved writing the first chapter to this and so, I hope you don't mind, but I am going to add another chapter.
And maybe another after this one. We shall see how it goes! I have never written a fic in this style and am rather enjoying it more than I anticipated.
I hope you enjoy! Until next time...
-Lizzie
Sunday 1st January, 20:48pm
Malfoy Manor
Malfoy,
I have decided to owl you in response to the messages that you left on my telephone early this morning and then again this afternoon. I assure you that there is no need to fret. We all manage to get ourselves into a little bit of a rut every once in a while. I must admit that I was a little taken aback at your graphic appraisal of my appearance and a little offended at those truly crude remarks. But alas, you have apologised and the said apology is accepted by all means. There will be no payment needed.
I shall see you at the office at 7:00, with what I presume to be, how did you so beautifully put it? Ah, yes. A 'fresh start'.
See you tomorrow.
Hermione.
Monday 2nd January, 06:59am
Malfoy Incorporated HQ
He sits, tap, tap, tapping his nails against his desk. It's Winter, yet, there is a thin layer of perspiration coating his forehead.
*PING*
::NEW MESSAGE FROM: Blaise Zabini::
Ah. An instant message.
Computers were so very interesting. A brilliant invention from the muggles, he thought, and a brilliant source of communication for his company. Great input from Granger there...
Granger.
He sighs.
*CLICK*
Blaise: Still got a hangover I see...
He looks up from his desk, out of the floor length glass window of his office and across the building to where, surely enough, best friend and life-long prick Blaise Zabini is sitting at his computer, smirking widely from his own office.
The gesture is returned with that of a middle finger thrust in the Italian's direction.
Blaise: Oh, meow! Someone's woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning haven't they?
Me: Fuck off, Blaise, you insufferable twat.
Blaise: Go that well, did it?
Me: Excuse me?
Blaise: The Granger thing...that frankly brilliant masterpiece that you left on her answer machine?
...
Me: Fuck off, Blaise.
Blaise: Thought so.
Me: Haven't you got work to be doing?
Blaise: Of course. This is much more amusing, though. Coffee?
Me: That's one of Granger's jobs.
Blaise: I know. Just in time!
Fuck.
He looks to the entrance and surely enough, there she is. He looks at Blaise who waggles his eyebrows.
The gesture is returned with that of a middle finger thrust in the Italian's direction.
Blaise: You really need to lighten up...
Me: And you need to fuck off.
Blaise: Yes sir, right away sir.
Me: Twat.
::Blaise Zabini is typing::
He sighs.
How many times must he tell him to get lost before it sinks in?
*CLICK*
::You are now logged out of IM::
Ah. That's better.
There's a clonk to the left and he nearly leaps out've his office chair.
Granger.
She bends down and sets both his coffee and daily croissant on the table.
As always he's compelled to look down her shirt and finds that she has not (as he expected) worn a shirt that covers her completely.
How odd.
He manages to keep his eyes averted for the rest of the awkward occurrence.
She smiles.
He nods in thanks.
She leaves.
He slumps into his chair and lets out a rather long sigh of relief.
*PING*
::YOU HAVE (1) NEW MESSAGE IN YOUR INBOX::
*CLICK*
TO: DRACO MALFOY
FROM: BLAISE ZABINI
That went well... ;)
...
What an imbecile.
He looks up and back across the room where, of course! He should've guessed! The bloke is smirking away...
The gesture is returned with that of a middle finger thrust in the Italian's direction.
Please review! :)