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Scenario Four: The Department of Magical Law Enforcement

This is ridiculous!, Draco thought indignantly as he ducked behind what was probably Potter's desk.

He was entitled to have an opinion! So what if he thought Weasley had no style and absolutely no taste in clothes? So what if he had said it out loud with a sneer on his face?

Weasley really needed to grow up!

Draco considered it a must to be always well-dressed, no matter the occasion. He knew which garments were required for particular events, he knew how to match, he knew what looked good on him and he certainly knew how to flaunt it!

Even though he would spend no more than fifteen minutes at the Ministry before Flooing home – the time necessary to hand Potter some documents about Death Eaters still on the run – he had made sure to wear his best black robes, Italian cut and made of the finest silk, knowing he ought to look presentable at all times.

How dare other wizards (and witches, for that matter!) look like they had just got out of bed?

Honestly, did Weasley really expect anyone to take him seriously while wearing that hideous baggy shirt, that appalling yellow tie and those awful brown trousers? Goodness gracious, the sight was so ghastly it made him want to retch!

He couldn't for the life of him remember how mere words had escalated into a duel but he knew it was all Weasley's fault! Weasley and that uncontrollable temper of his!

There was now a truce of sorts between himself and Potter, both casting aside childish behaviour to engage in civility and respectfulness. Potter was somewhat tolerable, in fact, now that they didn't spend their time fighting and insulting each other whenever they met.

But Weasley was an entirely different story. The redhead still hated him and resented him in a way that was almost childish. He just refused to let the past go! Merlin, the man was an absolute moron!

And now Draco was stuck behind a desk, sending jinxes and hexes and dodging other jinxes and hexes! This is ridiculous!, he thought again. Sparks of colour flew everywhere and he was sure their combined spells were destroying the entire office.

He had had enough of this nonsense and decided to launch a wall of fire so he could make his escape.

"Oh, my!" shrieked someone.

Draco was so startled by the shrill sound that he pointed his wand in the general direction of the voice just as the spell left his lips.

"Incendio!"

A flash from his wand and something blue went up in flames.

"AAAH!"

Draco gasped in horror when he saw a witch screaming whilst her robes burned. Thinking fast, he yelled, "Aguamenti!"

The blonde witch was suddenly drenched with water and began shivering like a kitten left out in the rain.

Her hair was completely wet and covering most of her face but he could make out two brilliant pools of blue staring back at him, wide from astonishment. And what was left of her robes – wait, what?

Holy Mother of Merlin, he thought and gulped as his eyes took in the sight of her legs.

Her robes had burned up to mid-thigh, leaving a wide expanse of creamy flesh exposed to his gaze. Her skin looked so soft that his fingers twitched with the urge to touch it.

Draco looked into her azure eyes again and suppressed a sigh, the only words coming to his mind being 'Bloody hell'.

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Astoria was in shock. Her previously well-coiffed hair was now sopping wet and plastered to her face, her new robes were sticking uncomfortably to her body and she couldn't stop shivering.

She turned red when she realized her legs were fully on show and she wanted nothing more than to run away, but her body refused to cooperate and so she remained frozen on the spot, feeling like a complete idiot.

She stared sadly at what remained of her robes, bought only yesterday with her first paycheck. Even her royal blue Marie Antoinette shoes, the only birthday present given by Daphne that she had really liked, were scorched.

Her despair turned to fury. Her outfit was ruined! Yes, she could mend everything with magic and make it look like nothing had happened but that was not the point! Who did that wizard think he was, going around destroying other people's clothes? And offices too!

Just as she was about to give him a piece of her mind, she heard Harry Potter's voice.

"I heard a scream! What –" Harry lost his voice as he stared incredulously at the state of his and Ron's office. What on earth had happened in here?

Ron looked dishevelled and had his wand drawn out. Malfoy also had his wand in hand but his robes were immaculate as always and he kept staring at Astoria Greengrass, seemingly moonstruck. Miss Greengrass looked like she had been through both a fire and a hurricane and the flames in her eyes would burn anyone alive had she that power.

"What –" he began again but didn't even know what he wanted to say, and turned to Miss Greengrass for an explanation.

All she did was point an accusing and perfectly manicured finger at Malfoy, a murderous gleam in her bright blue eyes.

Harry didn't know what was weirder: the fury emanating from the normally calm and friendly Miss Greengrass or the stupid, lovesick expression on Malfoy's face.

Draco wasn't quite sure what hit him: his throat felt dry, there was an unfamiliar warmth on his cheeks and he couldn't stop gawking at the blonde witch.

What was worse, not one single intelligent thought came to him; his brain had ceased functioning and forming complete sentences seemed to be impossible.

"I…um…hello," he stammered, his eyes fixed on her angry yet beautiful face, trying in desperation not to look at her legs, though he wanted nothing more than to be able to stare at those gorgeous legs all day long.

In response she said "Urgh!" and stomped out of the room.

"Who was that?" he wondered out loud, completely entranced.

"Astoria Greengrass. She works in the Department of International Magical Cooperation," said Potter.

"Oh."

Draco jumped when Potter suddenly started yelling.

"For goodness' sakes, Malfoy! Get that stupid look off your face! She's not a Veela!"

Draco sneered in response but then a thought came to him: "Is she single?"

Potter smacked his forehead in exasperation and Draco felt that this gesture was entirely too dramatic.

Weasley, who had been uncharacteristically silent up to that point – he wasn't crushing on Astoria too, was he? He'd kill the bastard! –, snorted and said, "Psh, as if she'd go out with you! I'm sure she would have turned you down even if you hadn't burned her robes!"

Draco glared at him but at once started planning his strategy to woo the lovely Astoria Greengrass. After all, he had been in Slytherin. Ambition and cunning had to count for something, right?

"Good day, gentlemen," he said and strode to the door, his lips curving into a smirk.

"What? You can't leave! Look what you did to our office!" exclaimed Potter.

Why was the man such a nag? And to think just a while ago he found him tolerable! Draco shook his head and ignored the outraged yells of the two Aurors as he walked out.

He found the nearest fireplace and went home by Floo, startling his parents when he ran all the way to the library after saying a quick hello. He scanned the bookshelves and grinned when he found the book he wanted.

Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches.

A/N: In case you're wondering, Astoria is about 20 years old here. I assume Draco had to grovel for some time before earning her forgiveness ;)