Last chapter! W00t, W00t!

Thanks to y'all that stuck with me, through my...disappearances...? *ducks from flying objects*

Anyway, love y'all to bits.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. 'Nuff said.

"Next."

The witches voice is flat, bored, and it marches down the line between disinterested and condescending. It matches perfectly with it's surroundings, the waiting room at the Ministry's Department of Development hiring office.

Dolores Umbridge gets up as fast as possible from the cheaply made, plastic chair. Obviously a muggle product, thinks Dolores contemptuously, wincing as her pink skirt peels away from the sweaty, vinyl seat with a nasty squelching sound.

Dolores adjusts her black velvet bow with as much dignity as she can muster, and steps up to the desk.

"Name?" The witch's nametag reads 'Jenina'. Her hair is messily swept back- young people, these days, thinks Dolores, frowning at Jenina's unkempt looks- and she wears loose, light blue robes.

"Dolores Jane Umbridge," she says haughtily, or as haughtily as she can be, given the situation.

"Do you have an appointment?" Jenina picks at her nails, which are painted a blinding shade of orange, and doodles on the daybook. She has places to go, people to see. Now is just a beginning, a steppingstone, a means to the end. Dolores feels a twinge of jealousy. She remembers when she had her whole life ahead of her; it was a long time ago indeed.

"Alright. Go ahead. Third door on the left, then take a right and you've got the room."

Dolores smiles coldly at Jenina- it is in her nature, after all, to get her way through a twisted sort of kindness- but inside, her blood boils and freezes and her mind is blurred with anger. How many times had she been on the other side of the desk- interviewing for one low-level job or another, simpering at the miserable filth that came groveling, bowing and scraping to get some miserable position.

And now it is she, bowing and scraping and groveling.

The thought makes her stop in her tracks. A lesser woman, perhaps, would have cried.

But no Dolores Umbridge. If she had cried, she would not have had what she had.

And she will have it all again.

She swears it to herself in the corridor of the Ministry's hiring office, as the peeling paint and chipped finish on the floor bear witness.

For when other's cry, Dolores plans for revenge.

Reviewreviewreviewreveiwreviewreviewreviewreveiw.. .

REVIEW!

(please?)

(All around Reviews of the Story would be much appreciated, in addition to feedback on this last chapter.)