I dropped my files on the Advisor to the Minister's desk, making him jump. "Serena!" he exclaimed. He eyed my stack of papers warily. "Couldn't you have sent these by plane?"
"I didn't want to fold them all," I stated. I winked. "And I needed an excuse to see you." Yeah, sure, Fudge. You wouldn't look at these damn things if I didn't shove them in your face. "Well, I got work. Bye now." I started walking out of the office.
"Wait, Serena," Fudge called.
I halted. His tone sounded work-related. I hated work-related things.
With a forced smile, I turned. Fudge had stood up and was approaching me with a file of his own. "The prisoners have been complaining about smoke."
I blinked. "Smoke?"
"Yes, your dementors have been smoking on the job, and the prisoners don't like it."
I stared at him. "It's Azkaban," I said flatly. "The prisoners don't like a lot of things."
Fudge grimaced. "We're trying to break their mental spirits, not give them lung cancer!" he said, sounding exasperated.
Wary, I flipped open the file. Oh God. It had bullet points. "What is this?" I cried.
"It's a suggested program Rita Skeeter came up with," Fudge stated. "Her readers really like it."
I rolled my eyes. "So now Rita Skeeter's got a soft spot for criminals, does she? When will she get a soft spot for my dementors?" I looked at the program a little closer. "No, no, no, I'm not doing this." I put it back in Fudge's arms.
"Serena, I don't want to make you do this, please just try it," he begged.
"You can't make me do anything," I replied. With a swing of my hips, I approached him, only stopping when we were chest to chest and I could fiddle with the ties of his robe. "You and I both know who wears the pants in this relationship, Cornelius," I murmured.
Fudge gently pulled away. "Just give it a go?" he pleaded.
I made a sour face. "Fine," I snapped, snatching the file from him. "But don't expect good things to come of this!" With a huff, I left his office.
*Oh Rita. Pissing people off since the 70s.*