For the first time in my life, I'm glad the weekend is finally over. As I make my way to the Aurors' Office, my eyes are constantly on the lookout for a head of white-blond hair standing out amongst the masses of black, brown and dirty blonde, but I don't see it. Maybe Draco is already at his desk. My heart hammers in my chest at the thought of seeing him again. What am I going to say?

Friday night, I Apparated home after he stormed out of the club and left me alone in the churchyard. A meaningless shag with some random bloke no longer seemed appealing, not after I had come so close to taking Draco home with me. I stayed in for the rest of the weekend, taking an occasional break from moping to rub one off while thinking about him sprawled out naked on my bed. If only I hadn't rushed him, I'd still have hope for making that picture a reality.

No, scratch that. I still have hope. It's just going to take more persistence than I originally thought.

I pause in front of the door to our office, mentally rehearsing a list of different things I could say, depending on his mood. It probably won't help, though—I'll still get tongue-tied at the sight of him and start babbling like an idiot.

I take a deep breath and turn the doorknob.

Damn. He's not here yet.

There's a sinking feeling in my stomach as I consider the possibility that he might not show up for work today. I know that he can't avoid me forever; but still, the thought of not seeing him for yet another day makes me want to go home and crawl back into bed, miserable.

As I walk over to my desk, I notice two paper airplanes hovering above it. I grab one of them and unfold it.

Harry,

We need to talk. Meet Ron and me for lunch in the cafeteria.

Hermione

I crumple the note with a sigh and toss it into the wastebasket. Ron must have told Hermione that I went out with Draco. Now she's going to give me a lecture about not dating people I work with.

As I am sitting down in my chair, the second airplane darts back and forth impatiently. I snatch it out of the air and unfold it, too.

Potter,

I've gone to check out a new lead regarding the Brown case. Time was of essence, so I didn't want to waste it waiting for you to finally show up. Don't worry, though, I can handle it on my own.

DM

I glance at the clock. What does he mean, 'finally show up?' I'm actually three minutes early today. Well, I guess that's what I get for being late every day. Still, he shouldn't be trying to solve cases without me. I know I haven't been much help lately, as my mind can't seem to function properly when Draco is around, but he's not supposed to be going off on his own. What if he needs backup? If something goes wrong, we'll both be in for it.

I smooth out the creases in the note, thinking about Draco's pristine fingertips folding the paper. A shiver runs through me as I imagine them touching me. Reluctantly, I push the note to the corner of my desk and turn my attention to the stacks of papers in front of me. This is the part of my job that I hate.

Minutes drag by like hours as I busy myself with the tedious task of filling out paperwork. By the time the clock strikes twelve, Draco still hasn't returned, so I finish up what I'm doing and go to meet Hermione and Ron for lunch.

While I wait in the queue to order, I spot them having an animated conversation at a table in the corner of the canteen. Once I've paid and received my bowl of tomato soup, I go join them. Hermione starts yelling at me when I'm still a few feet away from the table, starling me.

"What did you do to Malfoy?"

Startled, I jerk back, and some of my soup spills over onto the plate beneath it. I set it down carefully.

"I didn't do anything to him!" I suck my soup-covered thumb into my mouth, glaring at Ron for telling Hermione about my date with Draco. He shrugs and looks down at the floor.

"Well, if his behaviour this morning is any indication, you must have done something."

"Why, what did he do?" I ask, dipping bread into my soup.

Ron scoots his chair closer and leans toward me. "When he came in today, he went straight to Robards's office. Hermione overheard him saying he needs a new partner because he can't work with you. When Robards refused, Malfoy stormed out and shut himself in his office." He pauses to take a bite of his roll. "That's when the lead supposedly came in. Malfoy all but ran out. We tried to tell him he should wait for you, but he came up with every excuse in the world as to why that wasn't a good idea."

The soup doesn't look appetising anymore, so I push the plate away. "He's trying to avoid me."

"As if that wasn't obvious," Hermione says. "The question is: Why is he avoiding you?"

I sigh and lean back in my chair. "Our date didn't end well Friday night. We were getting along all right until we started dancing. Then things heated up and he ran out. He said he didn't want to be another name for me to cross off of my list."

Hermione stares at the table, shaking her head. "I told you before that wasn't a good idea to date within the workplace."

"What about you and Ron?" I ask defensively.

"That's different. Ron and I were a couple before we started working together."

I can see her logic, but it doesn't appeal to me, not if it means Draco is off-limits. "It isn't entirely my fault. If Draco didn't guard his virginity like a teenage girl, everything would be fine."

"He has a point," says Ron.

The aroma of cooked tomatoes and basil makes my stomach grumble, but just as I pull the plate closer again, another paper airplane stops right in front of my face.

"What's with these today?" I ask, unfolding it impatiently.

My heart stops beating as I read Robards's note.

"What's wrong, mate?" Ron asks.

"Draco's hurt. He's been brought to St. Mungo's." I push back my chair and stand up.

"What happened?" Hermione asks, trying to keep up with me as I rush out of the cafeteria. "What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know."