The elevator doors slid open and I smoothed down my skirt. Briefcase in one hand, coffee in the other, I marched down the hallway. And was greeted by stares. They ranged from astonished to disgusted to even admirative. I wonder what was stuck up their asses?
I reached my office and shut the door. I almost jumped 5 feet in the air and spit out my coffee when I saw Fudge sitting in my chair, with a disgusted look on his face.
"Er, good morning, minister," I stammered. My, don't you look constipated this morning.
"My morning isn't so good anymore," he growled. He got up and paced back and forth.
"What do you call this?" he chucked a newspaper at me. An article, perhaps, darling boss? "Snogging - my - brother ..." His face turned redder with each word.
by Rita Skeeter
Hogwarts graduate and secretary of Minister of Magic Hermione Granger shows her wild side. In an attempt to get attention in Andria's on the night of February 25, Granger sat on the lap of the Minister's brother, Phidallius Fudge. She then proceded to snog Fudge senseless, even with his protests.
The article went on to describe how I was "planning the stunt for days". I was in utter shock.
"This is not the kind of attention I'm hoping for!" Fudge bellowed.
"Minister - I - " Calm your stupid ass down.
"How do you explain this?!"
I could not stop staring at the picture she published. Hey, it really did look like I was snogging him. But I didn't do it. Right. When I woke up this morning, I didn't remember a freaking thing. Only entering Andria's...
"Minister... I ... didn't... snog your brother... I don't see how big of a deal it is anyway..." I said faintly, still looking at Phidallius Fudge waving his arms around in the picture.
"Aha! So now you admit you did!" Fudge now had a weird expression on his face, a mixture between triumph and anger. "Do you have any idea how embarassing this is?" his voice was now above a whisper. "How would you like your assistant snogging your brother on the front page of the daily prophet, especially when you're the Minister of effing magic?"
"I swear sir, it's not as it seems, I would never - "
"It's too late now, Miss Granger." He looked tired now. "You wouldn't understand, but, I'm going to have to let you go."
omgwtf?! What's the big deal anyway? The bastard's overreacting! But let me go? As in fire me? No. Effing. Way.
"But Minister... can't I - "
"I'm sorry, Hermione." He handed me a box and left, shutting the door behind him. Everyone was staring now. I gave them my most ferocious stare and even bared my teeth before they finally turned around. But they still occasionaly snuck peeks at me.
Great! Wonderful. Apparently I had a smooching session with Phidallius Fudge, which made Cornelius Fudge eat something rotten and decide to fire me. Now I am unemployed. Woohoo. I threw my posessions into the box - random pictures, notebooks, and pretty models of magical creatures I had bought in Diagon Alley. Was I drunk or something? In my right mind, I would never smooch some random - and old, ech - man. Especially my boss' brother. Hah. I never drink alcohol anyway.
I sadly finished packing my stuff. Maybe I could try to talk to Fudge...but he was talking to someone and looked like he couldn't be bothered. He didn't look like he was in the best of moods, either. I would wait for him to cool down, I decided, and come back later.
I balanced my box on my hip and picked up my briefcase, managing to get out of my office. Not looking at anyone, I just reached the elevator when someone grabbed my arm.
"Let me help you."
I looked up. Marvin Medly. Possibly one of the most annoying guys ever to work at the ministry. Okay, he follows me. I sit down to eat, and he's in the chair next to me the next second. I go to get coffee, and he's always there, ready to talk more about his cats. Perhaps I would be flattered in other cases, but Marvin - he's so... short? He has these boring brown eyes, pale skin, and strange poofy hair.
"Er, thanks," I said, handing him my box. The elevator dinged and we stepped in.
"Bertha died yesterday," Marvin began morosely.
"I'm so sad for you..." I said quietly. I really was. Marvin wasn't my best friend, but Bertha, his oldest cat, was really special to him. He had her since she was born.
"Yeah, well... she lived a nice life," Marvin choked. He kept rubbing his eyes, trying not to cry or something, and I stood there like an idiot, not knowing how to comfort a grieving cat-lover. So I gingerly patted his back, and he began to sob. Alarmed, I stopped patting him, and he suddenly engulfed me in a huge bear hug. With my box, too. It was awkward.
The elevator doors opened, and people were staring at us - Marvin wouldn't let go.
"Shh... shh... Marvin... let go... we're - here - " I tried to pry him off me.
"Oh!" He promptly let go, flushed, and wiped his eyes.
"Er, I think I'll floo home," I said, holding my arms out for my box. He didn't seem to understand, and took it as an invitation for a hug. Uh. I chuckled nervously, pried him off me again, and grabbed my box, and ran. "Thanks so much!" I called over my shoulder.
Marvin beamed. "Dinner sometime?" he yelled after me.
"Uh, dunno," I called back nervously, waiting in line for the fireplaces.
"Great! I'll owl you." With that he turned around and went back in the elevator.
Okay then.
Within a few minutes, I was back at my flat. Throwing everything onto the floor, I flopped myself down on the leather sofa. The expensive, Stoneridge leather sofa. The thought of Stoneridge made me think of Malfoy. He was the head, wasn't he? But how did I know? I haven't kept in touch with the git when we left Hogwarts. Oh well. I probably read it somewhere.
I need to get my job back. Or get another job. Either one. Tomorrow, I would do it. But now - now I just needed to sleep. The throbbing headache from the morning returned again, as if from a hangover or something.
Alright! I'm done again. No clue when I'll keep writing, but whatev. My head hurts. Meh.