The next morning, Draco Malfoy was up at the crack of dawn, knowing that he'd have to pay a visit to Pansy before the workday started. Not that she'd be there without it costing an explicit(ly minor) favor from him. And there would be another before the end of their conversation, Draco knew it as sure as he knew his last name. Whyever did women come up with this newfangled addiction to working? Not that Pansy was actually working, Draco thought, as he sauntered in the vague direction of her Department of Paperwork (at least Granger could theoretically be useful). No, Pansy Parkinson was a Manhunter, and always would be (except in the unlikely circumstance that she got hitched with someone possessive and controlling enough to keep her in line). Luckily, Draco Malfoy was one of the few people she counted as a friend. Slytherins had few enough of those as it was, so she was often enough as crucial to his plans as he was to hers. It wasn't even that he minded owing her a moderate favor, because he knew she was good for it. Not that she wouldn't take advantage, if he was fool enough to let his guard down. But she'd do it with a smile (not casual cruelty), and he'd learn from it.

Striding back from Pansy's office (and fervently hoping he didn't smell like her latest perfume), Draco Malfoy had a wonderful idea. As his feet set foot in Hermione Granger's office, he turned towards the door and put his cleverness to work. Smirking as he left, Draco Malfoy arranged the piles neatly on his desk. There were six, five towers, and one small, tidy pile in the center, facing outward. Rather elegantly sipping a stiff cup of strong black tea (no liquor before noontime), Draco awaited his boss, as perfectly composed as he could possibly make himself. After seven years with the Slytherins - and more with the Death Eaters, that was quite well indeed.

Minutes before nine o'clock, Draco Malfoy lifted his head off the runes he had been idly doodling. Oh, sure, they spelled something... but relatively unimportant. A brief message for Pansy, mainly to pass the time. He heard footsteps, and stilled himself to motionlessness, his hand unwavering in it's gentle grasp of the teacup. Two sets, he thought, wondering sharply who Granger had brought as backup. He needn't have spent the time pondering, as Ron Weasley's voice echoed down the halls, filled with unrepressed laughter. For a moment, Draco was nearly jealous. It had been a long time since he had been so free with his emotions.

And then they were at the door, and Ron was gently kissing Granger goodbye. Had Granger even noticed he was there? Draco wondered. Was this a normal practice? Was he to be accosted with such blatant displays of intimacy throughout the workday? At least Ron didn't work in the same department, that would be intolerable. The Malfoys, however tender in private, had always displayed better breeding than to be openly affectionate in public.

"You! YOU!" Granger caterwauled at Malfoy, as she stepped around Weasley - who seemed oddly more preoccupied with hiding than stopping his raving girlfriend. Maybe he had experience with her in these snits? "What did you do with my papers?!"

Wordlessly, Malfoy spread his hands, smirking only slightly as he lifted his eyebrows. "Sorted and collated, as you asked for."

"But! But I wanted them last night! You STOLE them! I came back, and they weren't here!" Down the hall, various minor heads were popping out of offices - though there did look to be a few actual employees juggling coffee and the latest Granger distraction as they hurried towards whatever meeting they were newly late for.

"You asked me to sort them, didn't you?" Malfoy couldn't quite keep the note of reproof out of his voice. "Why don't we take this into your office." Before you start shooting spells, not afterwards! "I think we're starting to draw a bit of a crowd." Besides, weren't dressing-downs best saved for private? particularly when they're coming from your own employee.

[a/n: I tried for a full chapter for Thursday, but it looks like it's going to be two. Draco's family was nearly Prussian in terms of "displays of affection", don't you think?

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