Author's Notes: I'd like to thank Hannah Loves Lupin, Disco Inferno1, xo.A.m.o.r.e.t.t.e.xo, Persephoniii and Indeffinate for your review for chapter fourteen. I'm thrilled you're all enjoying the story, and I always appreciate your support and comments.
Additionally, I must warn you that once again, this chapter hasn't been checked for mistakes. My usual beta is very busy at the moment, and I was just too eager to get this chapter posted. Therefore, please ignore any spelling or grammatical errors you may spot throughout.
Chapter Fifteen: Caught Out.
Morrigan muttered a string of curse words – that could make even the most foul mouthed of people blush – as she hurriedly stepped out of the fireplace that connected her home in Ireland to the Ministry of Magic.
The young woman's black hair streamed behind her like a banner, as she raced across the auditorium to her destination.
After failing to hear her magical alarm clock go off, and then having a disaster while cooking breakfast that morning, Morrigan was now running late for her meeting with Penelope Clearwater, head of the 'Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes'.
The young witch had been hoping to inquire about vacancies in the aforementioned department, but now felt her chances were ruined due to her tardiness.
As she stepped into the golden doored elevator, and headed up to the third floor, Morrigan preyed she didn't run into any more problems before her meeting.
Thankfully, the fates were smiling down upon her, as the raven-haired witch reached Penelope Clearwater's office without further incident.
After taking a deep breath, and straightening her appearance, Morrigan knocked briskly on the heavy oak door.
"Come in," a soft, feminine voice rang out.
Stepping into the office, the young woman surveyed the room. Exactly opposite the door was a large window that looked out onto the bustling streets of Muggle London. In front of the window, was a large, highly polished mahogany desk. Seating in a massive, leather backed chair in front of the desk was a woman who appeared to be in her early twenties – she has long curly hair brown hair, chocolate colored eyes, and a slightly pointed face.
"Good morning, I'm Penelope Clearwater," the other woman greeted. "I assume you're Morrigan O'Brien?"
"Yes, Ma'am. Firstly, can I say how very sorry I am for my tardiness," returned Morrigan with a sheepish smile. "And that I'm very grateful for you agreeing to meet with me today."
"We're always on the look-out for new employees in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes," informed Penelope, before adding, "Especially ones with qualifications like your own."
"Thank you," replied Morrigan bashfully, taking a seat on the chair opposite Penelope.
"So, what is it that I can do for you today, Miss O'Brien?" inquired the other woman.
"Please, call me Morrigan," insisted the raven-haired witch. "Well, as I've just taken up residence in Ireland – after growing up in Florence, Italy – I was hoping to find employment with the Ministry of Magic. I noticed that your department only deals with magical accidents caused by spells going wrong, and that you don't have a squad of witches and wizards to deal with catastrophes caused by the mis-informed taking of potions."
"I see," said Penelope, looking down to a piece of parchment in front of her. "I agree the Ministry is lacking in their aptitude to deal with potion induced problems. However, St. Mungo's has a very fine department for treatment of Potion and Plant Poisoning. Maybe it would be better if you were to inquire there about vacancies?"
"I did consider that. However, I felt that maybe St. Mungo's was best suited to solving possibly fatal and health-effecting issues. I thought it would be a waist of everyone's time if Medi-wizards were called out for a case of a child simply swallowing some something they shouldn't have, and turning their ears green and that it might be more appropriate for a specifically trained witch or wizard from the Ministry to attend to such problems."
"Yes, I see you point there, Morrigan and I assume you have a suggestion to remedy this situation?" inquired the head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.
"Yes, as it happens, I do," informed Morrigan. "What I propose is, that you hire me for your department, as a skilled Potions maker, who would be available on-call, to offer the appropriate antidote for any non-life threatening or heath effecting Potions that may have been accidentally consumed. As you will see from the letter I sent you last week, I obtained top-grades in my Potions examinations at Rome's 'Accademia di Magia'. Additionally, I also have high marks in Charms and Herbology."
Penelope surveyed the piece of parchment in front of her, which contained the letter Morrigan had sent the week before, along with a list of her examination grades and references from her previous professors at the Accademia di Magia. Then, she turned to the raven-haired witch with a broad smile.
"Very well, Morrigan. As it seems all of your qualifications are in order, I will speak to the Minister of Magic, and suggest to him your proposal," she informed. "If he feels your suggestion is feasible, and we have sufficient funding for it, I will write to you and we can discuss the idea further."
"Thank you, thank you very much for your time," replied the raven-haired witch, hardly able to suppress the grin that was creeping across her face. "I greatly appreciate you taking the time to see me and listen to my idea."
"It's been my pleasure, Morrigan. Hopefully, with the Minister's approval, I'll be seeing you again very soon," returned Penelope. "I hope the rest of your day is enjoyable."
"Thank you, you too," said Morrigan, rising from the seat and exiting the office.
She had a good feeling about the meeting, and was left feeling very hopeful by what Penelope Clearwater had just said to her. With any luck, the Minister of Magic would like her idea too, and she'd soon be finding herself in employment. Morrigan just preyed her trip to St. Mungo's, and inquiring on Draco's behalf about supplying potions to the hospital would go equally as well.
However, the raven-haired witch's good mood began to evaporate as she stepped into the elevator and walked straight into an all too familiar face.
"I'm so sorry," she apologized, looking up at the foreboding form of Lucius Malfoy.
The Slytherin patriarch looked at the young woman through narrowed eyes. Suddenly, comprehension dawned on the former Death Eater and his mouth curled into a sinister sneer.
"Morrigan O'Brien, isn't it?" he inquired, looking her up and down. "I seem to recall that you were unfortunate to bump into me once before and if I'm not mistaken I warned you on that occasion that if you ever did it again, I wouldn't be so forgiving."
The raven-haired witch gulped, as Lucius' cold grey eyes flashed dangerously and he took a step closer to her. When Morrigan had met Mr. Malfoy before, she had been startled by how similar he looked to Draco, and today was no different. However, the rather disturbing fact was, the former Death Eater now looked exactly like his son had, when Draco had angrily shown Morrigan his Dark Mark.
With her heart hammering inside her chest, the young woman took a step backwards, and found herself pushed up against the wall of the elevator. The lift was so small, she barely had room to move, and that situation was only made worse when Lucius advanced on her, and pressed his body against hers.
"However, you're fortunate, Miss O'Brien, as I've been hoping to run into you," he informed sinisterly, his hot breath hitting Morrigan's neck and making her shiver.
The young woman looked up into the former Death Eater's cold eyes, wondering what he could possibly want to speak to her about, and then the frightening realization hit her – Draco! Lucius had obviously found out his son was stopping with her, and now wanted to question Morrigan about it.
"Yes, I want to know why you're hiding my son away?" he inquired, as though he'd picked the very thought from the raven-haired witch's head.
"I... I'm not," Morrigan insisted, taking a deep, shuddering breath and trying to calm her nerves.
"Don't lie to me, you silly child," Lucius whispered sinisterly in her ear, his hands clamping down on her shoulders so that she couldn't escape. "It seems the two of you weren't as careful around Diagon Alley as you'd thought. I have information from three different eye-witnesses that you and my son have been spending a lot of time together, and that the last time he was seen, was in your company leaving the Leaky Cauldron with all his worldly possessions in his arms."
"We...I...I've..." the raven-haired witch stuttered in reply, hoping for a logical explanation to Lucius' accusations.
Thankfully, a distraction came, as the doors to the elevator clattered open and in stepped a young wizard with shocking red hair.
Lucius instantly jumped back, releasing Morrigan, as the unknown redhead looked at him through narrowed eyes.
"Weasley," Malfoy said curtly, hardly bothering to hide the disdain in his voice.
"Malfoy," Weasley returned with the same contempt. "Have you nothing better to do than bother innocent witches?"
The redhead then turned to Morrigan, concern etched in his blue eyes.
"He wasn't bothering you, was he Miss?" he inquired.
"No, no," Morrigan lied, just feeling relieved someone else had entered the lift.
"Well, if he does, be sure to report him to the Auror office," replied the man. "Just ask for Ron Weasley, and I'll be happy to deal with Malfoy personally."
"Erm, yeah, thanks," said the raven-haired witch, hurriedly stepping out of the lift.
With her heart still hammering in her chest, her knees week, and her palms sweating, Morrigan raced to the fire-place, and used the Floo Network to transport her to St. Mungo's.