Chapter 4

A/N: Hello again everyone! I'm sorry this wasn't sent out earlier, but my computer got really screwed up.

Thank you for reviewing me! Good fortune upon Helen, hermioneandron, and canadianvamp!

Let's be quick this time: I don't own anything, don't read if your not allowed (I hereby put responsibility on you), South Park reference, at least on per chapter, and this fic has lots of bad, scheming, people. Have fun!

Oh yeah, and the first part of this chapter was inspired by the book Skinny Dip, by Carl Hiassin(sp?), which was excellent.

DVD Extra

A Misplaced Comma Joke For Grammar Geeks Like Me:

A panda walks into a restaurant. He orders a sandwich, eats it, then draws a gun and fires two shots into the air.

"Why?" asks the confused waiter, as the panda makes for the exit. The panda produces a poorly punctuated wildlife manual and tosses it over his shoulder. "I'm a panda," he says "Look it up."

The waiter turns to the relevant entry and, sure enough, finds an explanation.

"Panda. Large black and white bear-like mammal, native to China. Eats, shoots, and leaves."

"I swear, baby, it's never happened to me before..."

Draco and Christie were sitting side by side on his desk. They were both looking down at little Draco, who was...sleeping. Oddly enough, while neither wore underwear, they both wore shirts. If someone were to burst in on them, it would be an interesting scene.

"Well you know, it happens to all men at a certain age. I remember this one, only 40..." She trailed off, realizing that this might not be an appropriate time for that particular anecdote.

"Christie, I'm 28."

"Really?? Whoa, dude!" Draco glared at her and she fell silent.

But not for long. "Well, maybe it's all that stress that's going on, not just with the campaign, but with your divorce and everything, too."

"Are you suggesting that I had an I had an emotional attachment to my wife?"

She shrugged. "Wellllll... Maybe you just need a good night's sleep,"

Draco sighed and said maybe she was right. As a result, he went home grumpy and sexually frustrated.

Could my day get any worse?

Karen Coston was the HR Director at the Ministry of Magic. She was a skinny, well dressed black woman who was in a constant fight with the higher-ups about equality for women in the workplace. Her arguments were not unjustified. About 69 of Ministry workers were men, and of the women, 75 were in positions which required a desk more than a wand. For a long time, no one paid much attention to this, but now, after Voldemort's defeat, there wasn't a larger issue looming over the wizarding world. New issues of quality of life popped up everywhere, and women's right's was looking promising. Ginny had figured Karen as her best bet for a job.

"I need money, badly. So I need a job, badly." said Ginny

Karen looked at her, not unreceptive, but confused. "Why not ask your husband?"

Ginny knew she should choose her words carefully. "Harry is a stupid, cheating, bastard who doesn't deserve to walk this earth. May he burn in Hell, while I quickly rise through the ranks of the Ministry and go on to lead a happy life filled with money and cabana boys."

"What?" said Karen.

"I'm leaving my husband."

"Well, good for you! Let's see what I can find you." Karen knew that there was a time to ask questions, and this wasn't it. If Ginny wanted to leave her husband in search of actual happiness, as so many other wives refused to do, more power to her. She walked over to a large filing cabinet and got an apparently empty file folder out. She tapped it once with her wand, and a huge stack of papers appeared. "As you can see, we have a lot of open places. What kind of work experience do you have?"

"None...No, wait, I used to organize books at the school library."

"Uh-huh...Special skills?"

"I can cook and clean...I'm a fast reader."

Karen tapped the papers again, and the pile shrunk drastically. There were only about 8 papers left. "This is no good." she said. "These are all secretarial jobs."

"Which one pays the most?"

Karen flipped through the papers. "You're not gonna like this."

"It can't be that bad, can it?"

"Not if you're only interested in the money. Draco Malfoy is paying about 15,000 more than all of the other offers combined."

"Your shitting me."

Karen sighed. "I know you hate him, but if you need quick spending money..."

"Why does he pay so much?"

"Like most politicians, Malfoy's not known for doing his own work."

"I thought that was what he prided himself in... his aides are famous for well-placed gossip about his self dedication and overtime."

Karen snorted. "Right. But no one suspects the secretary. He gives everything to her, and it's her job to either do the work, or organize it and give it to someone else. It's not entirely uncommon. I used to do it, back during the Fudge/Sundae election. I was on Sundae's side, of course."

Ginny smiled. "That's the first time I've ever heard you admit to being on the losing side of anything."

"Well, look where Fudge got us."

"Very true. It's weird," she mused, "with this being only the second election after Fudge, how quickly we've forgotten about Voldemort. And now we have the press eating up the battle between the Weasely's and the Malfoy's. Was it so long ago that we were thankful to still even have democratic government, after the casualties and corruption?"

"It's been a long time since that was over."

"Four years?" Ginny cocked an eyebrow.

"It's human nature to forget things like this. If we didn't forget, how could we move on?"

"You're right, I guess. Whatever. I can't stand to talk about the past for too long. I really don't need all that money to work for a Malfoy. Wasn't my brother hiring a while ago?"

"Got filled about 3 weeks ago. Some little chit named Christie."

Ginny perked up real fast. Not only was it possible, it was actually the most logical solution. Someone Ron worked with would be someone Harry would have met. Karen noticed her interest.

"You know her?"

"My husband's whore."

Karen snorted. "It would be. That girl is N-O-T-O-R-I-O-U-S."

It took Ginny a moment to realize that Karen had spelled 'notorious'. She smirked and shook her head. "Women like that are the reason women like us are taken for granted."

The other woman nodded understandingly. "If I had breasts like that, I'd be getting paid much more than I am. And you can bet Hermione wasn't too happy about Ron's choice, either."

"I'd imagine. Look, the money's really just tiding me over until I can get me a big fat alimony check once a month. There are more important things in a job, I see that now. Which one puts me closest to the Whore?"

"Well, of course when they rebuilt the Ministry after Voldemort, they chose a pyramid."

"Yeah, all the stuff about the top point of the pyramid being where mere man can touch the sky."

"Right, but the Ministry is also organized within the pyramid, the theory being that, the higher up you are, the less of you there are. So all the people who work here are put on the floor with their peers. Their bosses are on the floor above them, and their underlings are on the floor below them. As key advisers to the current Minister, your brother, Malfoy, and the 11 other cabinet members would be on the second to top floor, 239. Floors 238-227 are Aurours and all the other DADA departments, 226-115 are the various other departments, and 114-103 are the people like me who are working for the ministry, but not in matters of actual magic." She scowled. "You know, Human Resources, PR, lawyers, etc."

"What about the rest?" said Ginny, who had carefully kept herself sheltered from the Ministry so that she could use ignorance as her excuse to avoid as many of Ron's publicity stunts as possible, because she thought her brother was stupid to run for Minister in the first place, and that he actually had more power where he was.

"Floor One is reception, which is where you go to get to your job. You give your ID, they give you a portkey, and after about 30 seconds you're at your desk. The rest is middle management Hell. Once you go in, you never come out, they say. Thousands of poor, lost souls who go in hoping for career advancement and recognition, then slowly realize that they're lucky if they live another day and become bitter and jaded, seeing that they chose the wrong path to claw their way to the top."

"So the secretaries have their own floor?"

"Actually, the secretaries are the only exemption from this system. Because they work so closely and constantly from their boss, they're put just outside the office. The offices up top are arranged right next to each other, so the secretaries are practically on top of each other."

"So it would be exceptionally easy for me to spill hot coffee on her cashmere sweater?"

"Almost uncreatively easy."

"Oh, I'll be creative alright. Give me the Malfoy job."

"I know you hate him, but this is an opportunity that I'm giving you because Christie's job should have been mine. Do not let me down. Do whatever you have to, just make sure she get's hers. I'll be in touch, and I want to hear all about your progress."

Ginny nodded. She knew that at this point the boss wasn't going to make a difference. She was going to be working in close quarters with the bitch responsible for her divorce, she was going to make her regret she'd ever been born, and if that involved Draco Malfoy, so be it.

"Dominic! It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Much too long. Where have you been, Blaise? I've been contacting you, and hearing only silence."

Blaise waved his hand dismissively. "I've been busy."

"For five years?"

"Well, you know how it can get."

"Yes, I do. You've been so busy sticking your head up Malfoy's ass that you forgot to pay mine. You owe me two million galleons. Where are they?"

"That's where my latest business proposition comes in."

"No."

"Hear me out. I have a plan where everybody wins."

"Any other man would kill you where you stand."

"I need outside help. Malfoy's got his eye on me."

"Smart man."

"Smart enough to screw all of us over!" said Blaise, trying to weasel his way on to the man's better side.

He failed. "How dare you?" his companion hissed. "After five years of publicly separating yourself from the Cause, you expect to waltz back in like nothing's changed? You're working for the reason I can't be seen in public! You're helping give the man who sold out his parents for amnesty get even more power! You're no more one of us then he is!"

"I want you to help me get him elected."

"You didn't just say that."

"He's making me his second! If he were to get elected, then mysteriously die, I could bring us back!"

"You're saying that if you were Minister, you would further our purpose as opposed to your own."

"Yes, but he'd have to be elected first. You have the contacts, you could make it happen. When I'm Minister, I'll reward you beyond your wildest dreams."

"Surprisingly, I find that hard to believe. Goodbye, Blaise. Don't ever try and contact me again. I'll warn the others. Don't try them either."

"No! Wait! You don't want to pass this up!" But the man had already disappeared. Blaise sighed. It was no use trying to contact anymore of the scattered dark supporters. They knew too well the only cause he'd ever support was his own. That was alright though. There were other people he could manipulate to his need.

"Hey, sweetie...Whatcha doin'?" said Ron. Hermione was looking at a huge spell book. A cauldron beside her was emitting pungent smelling steam, colored deep scarlet.

"We dropped another point in the polls today, Ron. We need a major surge, quickly. So I'm preparing a conception potion."

"What?!"

"There's nothing the public likes better than a pregnant woman." said Hermione. "It gives them affirmation in their own lives."

"Hermione, I really don't think-"

The potion stopped steaming and began to send out green bubbles. "Good, it's ready." she said. "Give me your wedding ring"

Ron shook his head, looking very afraid.

Hermione sighed. "Come on, Ron. Don't you want kids?"

"Sure, eventually!"

"We need the popularity!"

"But I don't want a kid! I'm not ready!"

"Yes you do! You're just underestimating your emotional maturity!"

"No, I don't want kids right now."

"Yes you do."

"No, I really don't."

"Give me your ring Ron!"

"No!"