(585): Any interest in drunk sledding later? If not, any interest in driving me to the hospital later?
"Sledding"
The festive atmosphere had penetrated even the most serious of Departments in the British Ministry of Magic, with small floating bells soaring through the corridors, pestering the memos that were still working by jingling and blocking their routes. Hermione Granger was seated at her desk, her cubicle sparingly decorated with a sprig of holly and a thin rope of red and gold tinsel, working diligently on a pile of forms for her supervisor.
Attendance was low, only three others were in the office with her – Justin Finch-Fletchly an old year-mate from Hogwarts, an ancient wizard who'd been with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures probably since its inception, and a slightly older woman by the name of Maude who liked to complain about her daughter's husband – so the area was quiet, punctured only on occasion by a singing memo or the tinkering bells that played carols until somebody lost their cool and hexed them.
A punctilious employee of the Ministry, Hermione had managed to put all festive thoughts out of her mind; she wasn't worried about gifts (everything had been bought already), lunch and dinner were set (the turkey was plenty large enough to feed all it needed to, the cranberry sauce was made, and Molly was in charge of the pudding they'd be consuming after dinner), and she certainly wasn't thinking about a certain brown haired man with hazel eyes that she could lose hers-
Hermione shook her head.
Concentrate, she scolded herself lightly. There's time enough for daydreaming after work – not that you'll have to then, she reminded herself with a naughty little smirk.
No, Hermione Granger definitely wasn't thinking about the dashing former Slytherin with magic hands and a voice that ran like silk over her senses. Not even a little bit.
Unfortunately, while she was busy not thinking of Adrian Pucey, a bright white ethereal shape bounded in through the doors of the department – a fox Patronus that she recognised all too well.
"Any interest in drunk sledding later? If not, any interest in driving me to the hospital later?"
The fox conveyed the message in the smooth voice of its caster before fading into nothingness, and Hermione fought the urge to bash her head on the desk. It seemed that no matter how hard she tried to not think about Adrian, he was always able to force himself into her mind. And it was always with something completely unbelievable. Like now.
She looked up to see Justin smiling amusedly at her from over his cubicle wall.
"So," the former Hufflepuff asked cheekily, "Drunk-sledding, eh, Hermione? Better make sure you aren't caught by the police- your record would be ruined."
His only answer was a scowl, but the man just laughed and went back to his work, no doubt eavesdropping to hear her reply.
Casting the Patronus spell for herself, the familiar otter frolicked in the air around her fondly, Hermione informed it, "Tell this to Adrian Pucey: No, I will not be partaking in drunk sledding, and if you dismember yourself in anyway whilst participating yourself, you won't be getting a certain special something from me on Christmas morning – just a bit of forewarning for you, Adrian."
By the time the otter completed its message and disappeared, Adrian had changed his mind, Apparated home to the flat he shared with Hermione, and had prepared two steaming hots mugs of cocoa with shortbread at the side.
It's nearly Christmas! I wish all you dear readers a fabulous Saturday (whether you be celebrating Christmas or not) and a Happy New Year.
Please, Read and Review like a Responsible Reader.