She stood nervously at the door in front of her. Her black skirt reached slightly above her knees when standing. She had carefully picked out a tight top that cut low, showing the curve of her breasts. Astoria pressed her hands against her sides in an effort to keep from fidgeting. Today she had an interview with Thomas Herring, the Head of the Magical Trade office. He was a known womanizer, and although Astoria had little experience with men in any form, she knew enough to dress the part. At twenty-three it would seem that she would exude more confidence, but the opposite was in fact true. Astoria had had her childhood ripped away by a war, left an orphan, a sister wanted by the Ministry and she'd never learned much about the world before she had been cruelly thrown to its grasping, greedy hands.
The door opened and a man in his early thirties motioned for her to come in. Astoria walked in quietly, making sure to keep a sweet yet demure smile on her lips. At least what she thought was demure. Thomas was an average guy with light, short brown hair and a mischievous smile. He offered her a chair, and Astoria sat down, careful crossing her legs at the ankles. He started with the usual questions, asked about her interests, etc. She caught his eyes glance at her legs, and she used that to her advantage. She made the slightest movement in her chair, which slid her skirt slightly higher. She smiled to herself, as his eyes darted back down.
"So Miss Greengrass, what do you feel you could bring to this office?" His smile was reassuring, making Astoria feel more comfortable.
"I'm ambitious. I feel as if my drive for excellence gives me an edge. Anything done should be done with precision and promptly." She inwardly groaned, she sounded like a robot. However, it wasn't her words that he was focused on. Astoria took a deep breath, causing her pale breasts to rise and fall sharply. His eyes darkened and he laid down his paperwork.
"I don't usually do this so quickly, but I feel that you are a right match to this office. Welcome aboard Miss Greengrass." He stretched his hand out toward her.
Astoria stared at his hand, shocked for a brief second. She had not really expected to get the position. She reached out and took his outstretched hand, giving it a firm shake. "Thank You, Mr. Herring."
"Please call me Thomas. I'm your supervisor not your grandfather. Mr. Herring makes me sound like an eighty-year-old man." He gave her a small wink, and Astoria smiled warmly back at him. He motioned for her to follow him, and they headed into a room with several cubicles that was connected to his office. There was a small cubicle off to its own at the front of the room.
"This is your desk. Each day there will be an itinerary there. I will need you to make sure all my appointments and paperwork are in order. Any meetings I have will also be listed. Other than that, it's really cake work." He gave her a warm smile, his eyes swiftly glancing over her. It made her slightly uncomfortable but she needed this. No, her sister did.
He called out for a 'Romilda', and a woman stepped forward. She had long, wavy black hair, and wore heels that could be used as spears if needed. She walked, no marched, toward them. Thomas turned to Astoria, this is Romilda Vane, she's the department secretary. She will be sending things up to you, and you send them to me. I'm sure she won't mind showing you the ropes." He gave Astoria a gentle touch on her upper arm before walking back to his office.
After his door shut, a loud Humpf! Came from behind her. "I see that he's already threw eyes on you too."
Astoria did not reply. She remembered Romilda from school. She had been a few years ahead of Astoria, and if her memory served correctly, had a penchant for love potions. Astoria contemplated making a comment about tasteless harpies, but she needed allies not enemies.
"I'm sure he's just rather friendly."
Romilda rolled her eyes, "Sure, friendly if you like." She pointed a well-manicured hand down the hall. "You might as well just look around for yourself, there's not much to be shown."
Astoria watched her walk off, swaying her hips. It irked her that women like Romilda Vane made an exerted effort to sexualize themselves, when frankly men were happy to stick it in any available hole.
She took a turn about the room, looking at the portraits moving on the walls, and the endless amount of ferns everywhere. There seemed to be a loud amount of chattering, people laughing and moving about. The atmosphere was definitely more laid back then she had expected. She was not paying attention to where she was going, when she ran into a solid figure causing her to bounce backwards. She lost her balance, and her feet came out from under her. A hand reached out and snatched her, stopping her embarrassing meeting with the floor. She turned to thank her rescuer, when her eyes slowly looked up into his steely, grey ones. Astoria bit back a small gasp.
"Malfoy?"
He looked down at her, his eyes widening. "Astoria?"
He removed his hand from her arm, and took a step back.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice sharp.
"I work here."
"Uh, yes, of course, that's obvious." She refused to meet his eyes. The last time she had seen or spoken to him was five years ago. She had been eighteen, and found herself in a local pub. Draco had been there as well. He was twenty and so drunk he could barely stand. He had taken her to a back room, and touched her in ways that she hadn't been before. Although she wanted more, he had stopped abruptly and said something incoherent about 'tainting purity' and had left her in that broom closet. Shortly after that her parents had begged his father and mother for help, and they had not responded. The Aurors had hunted down her father, and killed him in a fight. Her mother had been left to survive in a world she couldn't. The last Astoria had heard she had been killed, while selling her body for money on some grimy backstreet.
"Good day then." She said it as brusquely as possible, and brushed by him, her eyes threatening to tear up. If his fucking family had helped hers like they had helped Theodore Nott or so many others, her parents might still be here. Perhaps it was unfair to blame him for his father's choices, but it helped to hate him too. She found herself in the lavatory, in front of a mirror. She fought back her tears, refusing to allow herself that weakness. She was here to help her sister. Why, she asked herself? She couldn't say. Maybe it was because loyalty meant something to her, even if it went unreciprocated. She grabbed a paper towel and blotted her eyes. It suddenly dawned on her if Malfoy worked here she would have to deal with seeing his face every day.
Get a grip, she said to herself. She was here to gain information, and Draco Malfoy had nothing to do that. She could simply treat him with cold civility and move along. Taking a deep breath, she turned around and headed back toward her office.
A few weeks had passed by. Actually make that the few longest, drawn-out, agonizing weeks Draco had yet to experience. Every day in that office was another day spent in hell. However, there must be a merciful God, because he had only to deal with Granger twice. He stayed to himself, not really mingling with anyone. In all honesty, he didn't care too know these people. He just wanted to get through this unholy ordeal as painlessly as possible, which at present seemed unlikely. He felt a set of eyes on him, Draco glanced up and barely caught Astoria looking at him. He wasn't sure why she found reasons to continually give him glares across the room. The intensity of hatred that beamed from her green eyes, was unnerving. He couldn't recall a reason for her to direct such dislike toward him, but he really couldn't distract himself with the issues of some little girl.
He was flipping a small note over and over between his fingers. He had received it by owl early this morning. It had simply stated that he was to be at Borgin and Burke's at 11:30. Draco was contemplating whether to tell Granger or simply go. He finally decided on the former, worried that if the Minister found out his father would suffer. Even if it was nothing more than a simple meeting.
His hand paused before the door, finally he knocked hoping the little mudblood wouldn't answer. His hopes were dashed with the faint "Come in." from within the office. He opened the door, closing it behind him with a loud slam.
Hermione looked up to see who it was, frowning as her eyes rested on him. "May I help you, Malfoy?"
Malfoy bit his tongue to keep from saying something cheeky to her. He held up the note and flung it at her across her desk. "Apparently I've been invited to a nice little rendezvous Granger."
Hermione briefly looked at it, placing it at the edge of her desk. "Good. So go to it and do what Kingsley told you to." She spoke curtly, and went back to reading the book in front of her.
Draco cleared his throat and gave a twisted grin. "Care to join Granger? You could be the sacrifice to the memory of the Dark Lord!"
Hermione gave him a go to hell glance, before dismissing him with a wave of her hand. "No, Malfoy I do believe I'll leave you sewer rats to your menial plotting and scheming."
Draco dropped his grin. He took a couple of strides toward her. His eyes fell on her leather bound book. "Forever the bookworm I see."
"Always the meddling prick?"
Draco gave a short laugh, his fingers snaking out to jerk up the book from underneath her face. Hermione jumped up, her arms reaching out, hands grasping at it. Draco read the title and raised his eyebrow at her. "Jane Eyre?"
Hermione gave him a dirty glare, narrowing her eyes at him. "Since when I have my reading habits interested you?"
"They don't. I'm merely intrigued by what would distract the almighty Granger from her pressing work load." He gave a pointed glance at the stack of paper work, threatening to teeter off.
Draco threw it back down onto the desk, barely missing her hideous marigold pot. "Whatever suits that frizzy head of yours."
Her brown eyes flared up, and she tightened her fists at her side. "Really Malfoy? Are we still at childish insults. Surely you can manage something more original."
"Like meddling prick perhaps?"
Her reddening face made him smile. He perched himself on the edge of the desk, his fingertips plucking a petal off her marigolds. "These are almost as ugly as Weasley. Almost." He turned his head sideways at her, "How are you and Weasleby exactly? I haven't' heard much about him these days."
Her heels clipped the ground as she stomped back around to the other side. "My affairs are none of your business Malfoy. Get out."
"So you're having an affair on him?"
Hermione growled at him, her face becoming more red. "No you fucking idiot. I'm quite happy, and I wouldn't step out. I, fortunately, am not the heartless individual you are. Why exactly are we having this conversation?"
Draco gave a nonchalant shrug, "You're fun to rile up Granger. You almost look sexy, almost." He laughed loudly as she started an incoherent mumbling rant toward him. He held his hands up. "I come in peace. I'm just here to save you from the shitty material you're reading."
"And what would you know of reading material? Besides your extensive porn collection?"
He slid off the desk, put his hands on either side of it and leaned closer to her. "I don't need porn Granger. I do well on my own. Besides it dulls the imagination." He gestured at her book, "Pride and Prejudice is a better read in my opinion, but certainly enjoy your little orphan book if you please." His face leaned in even closer as he reached underneath her to grab a marigold. "I think I'll take one of these to put on my desk." He inhaled deeply of it. "Yes, it will remind me that life could be worse. I could be a plant stuck in this," he gestured around the office, "with you all day. Everyday."
"If you have nothing more to contribute then get out."
"Oh Granger," his voice went silky soft, "I always have something to contribute."
Draco winked at as he turned around and headed toward the door. He gave a little wave with his fingers as he went out the door. If he had to be here, he wanted it to be entertaining. It was purely enjoyable to watch Granger get flustered, however immature it may be.
Hermione plopped down in her armchair, her face still red. She wasn't sure why she allowed that bastard to aggravate her. She hated him, and his snarky behavior. Her mouth twitched almost smiling at his reference to Pride and Prejudice. Draco Malfoy read muggle literature, interesting certainly. She instant felt annoyed at his mention of Ron. Things were complicated at home. They had been arguing more lately, over the simplest things at that. It seemed Ron was growing more distant and the harder she tried the more it came unglued. She pulled her book back out, ignoring the pile of papers she needed to go through. If it was just for a while, she wanted to have a small escape from the troubles plaguing her.
A small mouse scurried across the floor, it's little squeaks clearly audible in the abandoned building. The inches of dust covered everything. Draco's footprints were easy to follow. Theodore started up the old steps that groaned and creaked under each step. He found Draco sitting with his back turned to the doorway.
"It's not exactly smart to not face an open entrance you know."
Draco turned with a start, his hand clenched around his wand. He breathed a sigh of relief at Theodore's smirk. "You got invited out too?"
Theodore nodded. He walked forward and pulled out a chair that was barely holding itself up. He sat down cautiously, unsure if anything in this dilapidated building was safe.
"How long have you been waiting?"
Draco shrugged not really sure. "30, maybe 45 minutes." He absently picked at a thread that was dangling wildly from his cloak. A loud cracking sound sent both men to their feet. There was a whirl around them, with multiple cracking and popping echoing around the room.
Draco and Theodore found themselves circled by a small group of witches and wizards draped in black cloaks. They had simple, black masks on with what looked like a small phoenix in the top corner of each one. Draco gripped his wand tightly, unsure of what to expect. He glanced at Theodore who was doing the same, his eyes constantly shifting between each member.
"Good evening Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Nott."
The male voice came out calm and indiscernible. There was no way Draco nor Theodore could recognize it.
Draco nodded toward the figure who spoke.
The man stepped forward, he was tall and that is all Draco could say to describe him. He kept his arms at his side, his black cloak occasionally shifting with his breathing.
"I don't see a point to frivolous conversation or niceties. I believe we should just get on with our mutual interests wouldn't you agree?"
Draco gave Theodore a quick glance before Theodore answered. "And what exactly are those interests?"
"We," the figure motioned about the room, "are here to right the wrongs in this world. However, one cannot do that without substantial support, both financially and intelligence wise. We need both."
He stepped forward, his boots scraping along the floor as he stood a few inches from them. "It has recently been made aware that you managed to acquire a position within the Ministry. We're not concerned with the how or why. We already know. We believe that this would be beneficial to us."
The man paused for a brief second, his breathing hardly audible. Draco wasn't sure if he was alive or dead. "Any information you can supply will be much appreciated." He turned around and began to strode away until Theodore called after him.
"How are we supposed to contact you with anything?"
The man did not turn around. "You will be contacted periodically by one of us. If you have anything valuable you may pass it on then."
Draco was about to broach the subject of finances when another figure, a woman with a breathy whisper spoke. "There is an account in a Bulgarian bank. All money transactions will be through them. That's all either of you need to know at this time."
The sound of cracking rang through the room, the cloaked figures disappearing in rapid succession of each other. At last there was only the two young men left, the dust stirred up choking them. "What the hell was that?"
Theodore ignored Draco's question. His mind was racing, the realization dawning on both of them that this wasn't the same as last time. This organization was different, less forthcoming and forebodingly more sinister.
The unnerved men left behind the old store front, its sign hanging precariously by a small nail. The once busy store was dead and rotting. Draco had a dark feeling that he and Theodore may not be far behind it in its fate.