So, I wrote this last night at 3 a.m. on my sugar high, woke up this morning, and decided to publish it. So don't blame me, blame the caffeine-induced insomnia. Thanks to all my reviewers, and to my Biology teacher, for being extra awesome and not giving us weekend homework.

And please excuse me if some of the music I mention in the story isn't right with the time, I'll try my best to keep up with it. Just remember, this story takes place a few years after the Battle at Hogwarts.

Disclaimer: Hold on, let me check...nope, nope, definitely not J.K. Rowling. Sorry to disappoint. Now read and review.

Everyone had annoying habits. Ginny liked to tell Harry about his in great detail. "And I nearly snapped my neck in two. What a fright it gave me, when my feet whooshed out from under me. Thought I was a goner!" she said with too much enjoyment when talking about her alleged near death experience. And she loved to tell the bloody story to every bloody person possible. And honestly, who didn't stack their papers on the floor because their desk was too crowded? Besides, it was his at-home-office, and everything was organized. Really. It wasn't his fault the woman couldn't watch where she was stepping.

Besides, Ginny had more than her far share of less-than-desirable qualities. For instance, thinking that every bloody room in the house she walked into needed the light to be kept on for the rest of the week. Their electric bill would have cleared half of his Gringott's account in a month flat, had they hadn't regularly obliviated that pesky little man that came knocking at the door whenever they didn't pay within 6 months. Muggles.

But Harry quickly realized he did not firmly grasp the concept of "pet peeves" until he became an Auror.

"Ms. Stark, I would just like to thank you and the rest of the Aurors so much for arresting my ex-neighbor, Phil. I was always so worried letting the children go out and play, and I just knew something was wrong with that man since he moved in 8 years ago. He had that awful shirt, and you can tell a great amount about a person by their clothing preferences, you know..." Kimberly insisted upon reading every letter and memo she recieved. Every. Single. Bloody. Letter.

"Do you have to read every sentence out loud?" Ron snapped, Kimberly didn't even glance up. Apparently, yes, every sentence must be read. As well as reading the reply as she wrote it out.

"I quite agree with you, Mrs. Wimbly. For instance, my co worker is wearing this ahem, loud patterned shirt today, as well as black socks and brown shoes," Harry checked Ron's footwear. Black socks, brown shoes, horrible tropical patterned shirt; sweet Merlin where had Hermione been while Ron was getting dressed this morning? She needed to monitor him more closely. "The shirt clearly yells out for attention, which he desperately craves, and the clashing of the socks and shoes speak of a horrible condition in which oxygen doesn't flow to his brain properly. It's quite sad, really. Poor bloke can't do much of anything right, honestly..." Ron's wand hand had been twitching quite spectacularly.

Norman Guizot wasn't as sneaking and purposeful in his annoying-ness as Kimberly, who all around knew very well what she was doing and did it with an evil flourish, which made it worse. "I'm really sorry Harry," his thumbs were twiddling together nervously as he bit his lip, watching as Harry patiently waved his wand at the break room table, muttering cleaning spells, "it won't happen again, I swear,". Oh, but it will Harry had thought, simply nodding in a "that's quite alright!" sort of way. The problem was, Norman insisted on not using a coaster. Not just once. But every time he got a drink. Which was every five minutes. Harry commonly found half-empty cans and bottles littered about, in a trail from the break room to Norman's desk, scattered on every available surface in between. All leaving behind this unholy dark ring that no magic known to wizard could get out, making Harry's eye twitch almost to the point of no return every time he passed one. Which was every five minutes.

But Astoria had to take the cake. "Can you please turn it down?" Norman looked over at her desk. She blinked innocently.

"What?" sneaky as Salazar himself, she was, her little hand darting out to turn the volume knob up.

"CAN-YOU-TURN-THE-MUSIC-DOWN?" Astoria's eyes narrowed dangerously. Harry cursed the day she had found the battered Muggle radio.

"What the bloody hell is this?" Ron whined. Astoria scoffed.

"Britney Spears. Can't you feel the emotions in the song?" No. No, the only emotion Harry could feel was worry for his poor ears.

"I can't take it Harry. I can't. Fix it," Ron demanded, hands tugging at his flaming red hair, as if to clog his ears with the stuff to drown out the shrill singing blaring from Astoria's desk. She was humming along, the wench.

"I don't want to intrude or anything, and she's really quite nice really, it's just, well, I can't concentration. But I mean, she can still play it," Norman was fiddling with his tie, flustered, "just..a tad...less..loud would be nice,".

"I'm going to throttle her," Harry appreciated Kimberly's directness. Violent, but direct none the less. "And that's a problem. Because she's one of the only people in the whole Ministry who I can stand. Just not when that blasted radio's on!"

Harry's golden solution came in a bout of inspiration brought on by butterbeer and lack of sleep. There was a recently emptied spare room in their department now, and he had been planning on having all of them write exactly why they each deserved it as their office. But if he just had them vote...

"Astoria," Kimberly answered immediately. "Under normal circumstances I would have said myself, of course," she explained smoothly, "but this is a grave situation Harry, and you can't refuse such as obvious solution.

"That bloody radio!" Ron demanded. "and I guess Astoria will just follow the thing in there, so it'll officially be her office.." he mused to himself.

"I-I think Astoria. I mean, not that Kimberly doesn't deserve it, Merlin no, it's just, well..." Norman grinned sheepishly.

So as Harry had just announced the news to a bored-looking and mildly suspicious Astoria, who was busy moving her things into it, he strode into the break room, grinning broadly. Until he saw something sitting at the table that wiped the grin off his face. "Malfoy?" Draco's eyes snapped up to meet Harry's.

"Oh Potter. Fancy seeing you here," he drawled. Harry blinked.

"Fancy meeting me here? Malfoy, this is my department!"

"And?" Draco stared at him as if had gone mad, running his fingers through his platinum hair. It unnerved Harry. Draco Malfoy was an Unspeakable, working on..well, that's the thing. Harry didn't know what he was working on, what he did, where he was at. He had only seen Malfoy in passing, and in Witch Weekly, when Ginny showed him one of the articles ("Oh, look Harry! Says here Draco Malfoy is the number one most eligible bachelor of the year!" "Look, says Draco Malfoy is giving half his inheritance to the poor! Look how marvelous!" alas, another pet peeve his wife was very aware of) And that was just fine.

"Why are you here?" Malfoy opened his mouth to answer, the beginnings of a sneer etching itself onto his face, but didn't get the chance to.

"Draco! Wait, Harry?" Harry whirled around to face Astoria, whose eyes were wide as saucers. "What are you doing here?" she asked ,still looking at Harry.

"Why does everyone keep asking me that? This is my department! My break room!" Harry snapped. They both stared at him now.

"Well I guess I'll be going to finish straightening up my new office now..." Astoria was backing away slowly, as if he would snap and start throwing curses everywhere. "Harry," she nodded. "Draco," a nod, a-wait, was that a smile? Not a sneer, but a smile? Directed towards Malfoy? No, no, trick of the light, Harry told himself. Must be.

"I'll be leaving as well. Potter," Malfoy gave him a curt nod, "Astoria," was it just Harry, or did he say Astoria's name with a little too much...feeling? And now Malfoy was giving Astoria a smile in return! The world had gone mad! It had-no no, the lights again.

"Someone needs to hurry up and fix the bloody lights," Harry muttered, staring at the ceiling.

Reviews,anyone?