"What," asked Tracy Higgins, as he wrinkled a slightly over-sunned (no need to wonder what he'd done after my file thieving essentially gave him a half day yesterday) nose, "is it?"

"What is it?" I asked, incredulous. "What is it!" I gave him my best 'you can't be serious look' which he returned with what I assume was his best 'of course I am.' "'It,' I'll have you know, is the latest in laptop processing, and the most powerful notebook galleons can buy!"

"Oh."

I started to tell him about how I'd had special order it from the States, and how lucky he was that I had. I started to tell him how it was a wizarding special, with magic-compatible software, and a power adapter specially designed to feed off the energy of a simple lumos spell. I started to, but then I noticed the glazed look in his eyes. Immediately cut myself off.

He was hopeless.

"It's a muggle thing.," I said with a gargantuan sigh.

"Oh!" that perked him up, "technology! I see. You know, we had to install a telephone in the office after Mr. Malfoy made a few muggle acquisitions."

"Figures," I grumbled.

"Huh?"

"Well, it's just that I had to listen to that 'muggle hater' garbage of his for seven years, and now he's buying stock in muggle companies. I suppose greed is equal opportunity, isn't it?"

"Well, business, as they say, is business, and right now, it's about time I got on with mine. In that spirit, I'm afraid I'm going to have to request that you return those files of mine."

"That's what I've been trying to show you," I said, moving him behind his (for once) uncluttered desk, and urging him into the chair with a firm hand on his shoulder, and I set the shiny new laptop on the desk before him. "It's all," I maneuvered myself so that I was standing behind his chair, and reached over his shoulders to flip the notebook open, "in," I double clicked on an icon that said 'personnel database,' "here!" I finished triumphantly as the screen shot up with information on various Malfoy international employees.

"You mean you've transfigured them?"

"Oh, if only it were that easy." I shook my head, "no, I was up half the night doing data entry."

"That seems like an awfully lot of work. Couldn't you just. . . you know. . . use a spell, or something. These things can't be that complicated. Maybe a transcribing spell?"

I straightened, and tried not to sound offended that anyone would question my ability to research appropriate spells, (if there had been a good one to do the work, I would have found it! And indeed, I had used magic. An acceleration spell. How else was I to have typed so fast?) when I replied, "no, there was not a 'transcription' spell that would have worked. They all require that the spell be used on parchment, and none have been adapted to use with a keyboard. Some things just have to be done the muggle way.

"The benefits," I continued, brightening, "however, far outweigh the initial inconvenience."

"Really?" he sounded a bit skeptical, so I set out to prove it to him.

"Sure, okay, you've already seen the personnel files, but let me demonstrate this in action."

I leaned over again, and cracked my knuckles, before setting about typing again, "okay, within this database, you can pull up, and review (or change) any Malfoy Int. employee that's attached to your department." I demonstrated this by searching my name, "see, Gage, Gatting, Getty, Gottard, ah, here I am, Granger, Hermione. A double click of the mouse, and viola, you can view my personal profile, my talents and skills (you'll notice that organization is one of them) my past job experience, whether or not I'm currently assigned, and watch this," I pulled up another program, "I have a list of all the companies Malfoy owns, and all the positions they have. Now when one of those needs filling, you simply type in the job," I demonstrated this by entering 'dragon keeper,' "and pull up a list of all qualified, unassigned temps."

Here I felt the need to point out that I wasn't on said list, but Mr. Higgins was growing excited now.

"That's amazing! Oh, wow, Miss Granger, that's going to cut my workload in half!"

He insisted that I stick around for a little while longer, and help acquaint him with his new machine (and agree to come by later and give him more lessons) and by the time I left, I'd managed to show him how to use the WWN (that's World Wizarding Net… maintained by muggleborns, and wizard Muggophiles who considered themselves technology experts, and even managed to get him set up with an email account. Sexywiz482 @ wands.org (me: are you absolutely sure? Him: oh, yes!)

It takes all kinds.

In the interest of maintaining acceptable levels of productivity, however, I did not teach him about computer solitaire.

All in all, a time consuming process, but worth it.

How else was I supposed to get the personnel files for Ridgeback Ranch (files I hadn't even gotten the chance to read yet) copied over to my computer, and tucked safely into my carrying case as I apparated to work?

Too bad the whole thing made me late.

Imagine. Me. . . late!

I suppose I should have been thankful when no one noticed, but what I found when I appeared was far from a comfort.

I knew right away that the saboteur had struck again. The yard was full of the sound of pounding foot steps, as wizards darted all around me, chasing. . . were those goats! I squinted, and rubbed my eyes, then looked again. Yes definitely goats.

To punctuate this, one black kid was strutted in front of me on his four long, spindly legs, with an official looking document hanging out of his bearded mouth. What was going on?

I took the opportunity to grab the first person to walk by. It happened to be a young boy, about 16, maybe, and dressed in casual robes. He was striding past, and looking purposeful when I reached out and closed my fist over the first thing it came into contact with: the swinging horse shoe pendant that hung from a chain on the boys neck.

He realized I'd made my grab a moment to late, and his forward momentum carried him through, until he jerked against the metal I held. I ignored his strangles sound as he throttled himself. "Pardon me, but you wouldn't mind telling me what the bloody hell is going on!"

The boy rubbed his neck, and glared at me for a moment, before recognition sunk in. "Oh," he said, his eyes softening slightly, "Miss Granger, is that right?" I nodded, "I'm sorry I didn't recognize your immediately, but, well, the last time I saw you, you weren't nearly so. . . um. . . lively."

I felt this sudden urge to massage my temples.

"That was terribly exciting! Oh, if you'd died, it would have been our first fatality in the history of Ridgeback." I scowled, "n-not," he continued, with a nervous stammer, "that I'd, you know, want for you to have died… it just would have been terribly exciting, that's all."

Quit while you're behind, kid.

Instead I said, "speaking of excitement, what's going on here? And why are there goats everywhere?"

"This? Nowhere near as dangerous. Someone just forgot to lock the goat pen. Now What happened the other day... wow!"

This time I really did massage my temples.

"It's too bad Mr Malfoy showed up right away to take you off, though. A lot of the boys wondered about that, they reckon you've got a thing with him."

My lip curled disdainfully at the thought of me having any sort of. . .thing with Draco Malfoy. "What, is there a betting pool, or something?" I asked a bit more violently than necessary.

The boy retreated a step, and gulped.

So they did have a betting pool.

Focus, Granger. "So, someone forgot to lock the pen, eh?"

He breathed a sigh of relief that I'd chose to just drop it, "Yeah, I think it was Wood who did last night's feeding. He's going to be in so much trouble once they're all rounded up again. Oh, I can't wait to see—"

"Bo!" came Cletis' voice from around a corner, "hurry up, and get your want. I wan't you to help Rich finish roundin' up these last few stragglers." A moment later, the body to which the that voice belonged rounded the corner, and he gave me that easy smile of his, when he saw who it was.

"Why, Miss Granger, feelin' better, I hope?"

"Much, thank you, this young gentlemen was just telling me about the Goat Liberation front that seems to be based here."

"Was he? Well, he should have been helpin' instead a yappin'. His voice stern as the boy flinched and hurriedly took his leave. "Bo's a good kid, he just likes to talk a bit to much. Sort of like…" his eyes clouded over for a moment, and I could see he was reliving a painful memory. "Well, it doesn't matter, anyway," he said, his vision clearing instantly, as he brought the present into focus. "so. . . goats. I'm sure Bo already told you about it. Stupid things got out of their pens, and somehow managed to get into the office, where the little bastards proceeded to eat the medical records of only the most temperamental and dangerous dragons on the ranch. So now, of course, We gotta call the vet in to examine 'em all. It's really a big hassle."

"Wait, but goats? Why do you even have goats?"

"Oh," Cletis said, in a slightly sheepish voice, that was only more endearing for his bulk, "I forgot you didn't make it to feedin' time. Well, Most of the adult dragons prefer live prey, so. . ."

I cringed, "a bit morbid, isn't it?"

"Well, I suppose, but it's got to be done."

"Hm. . . so, why didn't the wards go off when the pen was opened?"

"No wards on the goat pen. No one thinks of them as dangerous, but boy, did they prove me wrong." He gave me a little smile, "you're awfully interested, aren't you?"

I debated momentarily about whether or not I should tell Cletis about my suspicions, but decided almost instantly to keep it under my hat. At the moment, I only had suspicions. And besides, I hadn't exactly ruled Cletis out as a suspect.

"Just curious."

*

*

*

I was working with Rich again, and he was, once again, speaking to me in that instructor voice of his. I watched the back of his head as we walked between the hatchery, where we'd just been tending the dragonlings, and the goat pen, where we were preparing for the evening feedings.

Rich was my type of man. Tall, maybe even taller than Cletis, broad, muscular shoulders, light brown hair that was shorn short. His features were even, and on the rugged side. Not delicate and fine. I wasn't interested in delicate, fine, facial features. Really.

Rich talked on, about the importance of being aware, and alert, and double-checking everything.

I enjoyed the view.

Or I tried to at least.

I really did.

But for some reason, my mind kept slipping back to a pair of defter hands. To a much shorter, more lightly built frame, and I cursed my sex-deprived mind. The only reason I couldn't stop thinking about it, was that, well, that stupid dream was the closest thing I'd had to sex since I'd left Magnus over a month ago. I must be getting desperate. For god sake, what was I doing? Ogling a co-worker, just so I could rid my mind of some stupid little dirty dream about Malfoy.

Nine out of ten erotic dreams aren't even about sex anyway. It could have been about my desire to be, I don't know, free of him. Or how I feel like I'm trapped in his stupid little game. Or, you know, how I want him dead, or something. Perfectly valid things for me to be feeling about Malfoy.

"But what about the tenth."

"Excuse me?" Rich turned to face me, I hadn't even noticed we'd reached the goat pen.

"I, er, I said. . ." think, 'Mione, "the tint. . . what about the tint? The wood here, it's not the same that you use on the dragon enclosures, it's a different tint."

He grinned, "that's very observant of you," he seemed pleasantly surprised. So was I. "No, we use ash on the dragon enclosures, for it's magical properties, but there's no need to take such precautions with the goats. Wouldn't do any good anyway, goat's aren't magical, can't be harmed by ash, you know."

"Of course," I returned his grin, "how very clever, use ash's natural abilities to weaken magical beasts against the dragons. I suppose the ash fences, combined with your wards make it nearly impossible for one of them to get loose." Unless, of course, some one let them loose.

I filed this little tidbit of information away for further reference, I'd mull it over a bit more when I was on my couch, with a steaming tea cup in one hand, and a personnel file in the other.

I heard a *pop* over my shoulder and got that sense of impending doom that let me know it was Malfoy. I told myself it was ridiculous, that there was no way I could tell it was him. So, I turned around to find myself staring into the very last pair of eyes I wanted to see.

"What?" I said, with even more rancor than usual, after spending a sleepless evening alternately working on Temporary Services database, and convincing myself that it was perfectly natural for me to be dreaming about my enemy, my tormenter and my boss, his mere presence annoyed me.

He drew himself up to his full height, (definitely too short for my tastes, I reasserted) and glared down his nose at me.

"We need to talk."

"Oh, for god sakes, Malfoy, between your harassing me, and shagging your bimbos, where do you find time to run this company?"

His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, and he took me by the arm. "Excuse us," he told Rich in an ice water voice, then he pulled me aside.

"What is your problem?" he hissed the moment we were out of earshot from Rich.

"Well, the short answer to that question would be 'you.'"

"I don't get it Granger, just yesterday, you were saying how sorry you were to have jumped to the wrong conclusions, now you're acting like you've just caught me shagging your mum, or something."

He was right. I knew he was right. I was being irrational.

The knowledge made me queasy.

"Well, get on with it then," I prompted.

"Granger, what's this about an unapproved expense you're trying to charge to me?"

"Oh, that… it was a necessity. For the office, you know"

"It was 584 galleons! What did you buy, a small country?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Malfoy, you can't get a small country for that price."

"What did you buy woman?"

"Come on, Malfoy, it was 584 galleons, as you pointed out. Nothing. Chump change to a guy like you. If the reimbursement hadn't had my name on it, you'd never have read it at all."

He smirked, "perhaps, but the fact of the matter is that I have noticed, and I want to know where my money is going."

"I bought Tracy Higgins a laptop."

"A what?"

*

*

*

I set the kettle on to boil, and placed my notebook on the table, opening it up so that I could work while I waited for my tea.

Black screen. Huh?

I checked the battery, and made sure it was firmly seated. Still nothing. Hm… with a sigh, I took the power cord out and plugged it into the wall. Not so much as a flicker.

Oh no.

It was broken. Oh god! My files! What was I going to do? It had the Ridgeback personnel files on it, and I absolutely needed them.

This was just great. I mean, I didn't even have the hardcopies anymore, having returned them. . . hello, there's an idea. A swish and flick later, and I was standing in the middle of the darkened office of 28 Blunderbus ln.

"Lumos," I whispered, and my wand flared to life, casting a bluish light all through the room.

Was I a bit nervous about my breaking and entering? Not really. I was over to the file cabinet in a flash, and opened it with another flick of my wand.

"Ridgeback. . . Ridgeback. . . Ridge—"

"Ah-ha!" and the lights flickered on over me.

Whirled to find myself staring into a burly chest. My eyes traveled upward until they came to rest upon a familiar face.

"Goyle!?"

"M. . . er, Miss Granger?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm on Draco's security staff. Registered a break in here tonight. . .I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to detain you. The boss is going to want to speak with you about this."

Detain me! What a waste of time. I wasn't worried about what Malfoy would do to me, but I really needed those files. . . and there was no way Goyle was going to let me finish looking for them. He might have been thick, but he wasn't that thick. What to do, what to do. . . of course!

He didn't notice me reaching into my pocket with one hand, as he took me by the other, and a click later, my put-outer had plunged the room into darkness. It took only a moment for me to return to the file cabinet, retrieve what I hoped was the right file, stuff it under my shirt, and be back in Goyle's grip by the time the lights came back up.

He was looking puzzled. "Strange," he mumbled.

"Mm-hm. . . now, let's get going, shall we?"

*

*

*

okay, guys, firstly, I'd like to say thank for the wealth of support you're all giving this fic. It's really terrific.

Anyway, I just wanted to take a minute to talk about my love/hate relationship with the first person. When I was first planning this story, I knew right away that I wanted it to be first person. I'd never done a lengthy piece in that perspective, but I absolutely loved the way you could really get into a person's head with it, like you just can't do otherwise. Unfortunately, what I love is what I hate, because, in a first person, there's really no such thing as objective observation. It's all looking through tinted glass. Malfoy is ugly because Hermione hates him. Rich is her type because she needs some one other than her boss to be her type. You don't know the color of Cletis's eyes because she never noticed. You can't even trust her views of herself, since, like everyone else, she's prone to self-deception, and quite often thinks one thing while meaning another.

Maddening, I tell you.

It also means that there's no story when Hermione isn't there and conscious, which is why, unfortunately, I can't write about Malfoy and his little musings, and what exactly happened at Ridgeback after Hermione's accident (sorry, Kou Shu'n) . It would break the perspective, and alter the feel of the fic.

On the subject of writing my Hermione/Malfoy scenes, well, it isn't that I think they're bad. . . I generally like the way that they turn out, it's just that I spend hours coming up with witty one-liners that I just have to use, and getting them all to fit nicely is a pain.

Well, that's enough for now. . . as usual, I love getting reviews, tell me what you think. . .