Ravenclaw HoH, Round 10, Additional, St. Patrick's Day, WC: 1016

Draco and Hermione, law-assistants for the Ministry, are on temporary move to MACUSA, New York.

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I've been in New York for six months. Six weird, odd, Draco-Malfoy-filled months, working at MACUSA for some age-old legislation that needs to be revamped. Honestly, when Kingsley suggested that we go to America, I was intrigued. These talks aren't exactly fun, but they're useful - rather, they will be. Even though Malfoy, Kingsley and I all talked about this in preparation to going, none of us ever thought it was going to be this level of complicated - or that it was going to last such a long time.

And here we are mid-March, barely even a third of the way done. MACUSA aren't particularly fond of talking with us, but that's mainly because they don't agree with rewriting their old laws, even if said laws that are no longer applicable. Draco is bored, so he goes out every night, talks to people in the street, and it's like his boredom has somehow made him a moderately nicer person. He manages to surprise me often enough. Like today for example.

I'm already at work, Draco is usually late (he turns up for the important meetings which is a blessing - I am usually one of the first people in), and the doors to the elevator are sliding open.

Honest to god, I could cry with laughter.

Lemme paint the scene a little.

Draco Malfoy loves his Slytherin clan. He enjoys his own ambition, his leadership, and his crass behaviour. I know that he wouldn't change anything about himself. But his family have never dressed to support Slytherin. By this, I mean that they don't dress in green. Mostly, they wear black - or white, but essentially they live without the colourful clothing that inhabits my wardrobe. But here is Malfoy, walking towards me with that supercilious gait, wearing a completely green suit.

It's awful. The blazer and trousers are a dark green, almost shimmery in quality. But his shirt is the worst. Lime green. Just why. Malfoy who is so cool and casual and usually dresses pretty well, in a vibrant greet suit. It contrasts poorly with the brightly lit office area we are in - complete with gold decoration and light-blue walls. I don't know who was the interior designed, but it's a hash job for sure.

"What in Merlin's name are you wearing?" I ask, laughing at him. He looks unconcerned, hands in his pockets and messenger bag slung over his shoulders. Even in green, he looks confident. He probably doesn't care that he looks even so slightly idiotic. "And why are you wearing that? Ran out of charcoal suits?"

"You're joking, Granger. You're wearing green too," he notes, grinning and sliding into the seat adjacent to mine and pulling a stack of files from his bag. He sets them out in the usual disorganised way that always gets on my nerves. Of course, Malfoy pays no mind to it, draws out his quil and begins to make rash notes on a spare bit of parchment that had been lying on my side of the desk.

I glance down at the skirt I put on today. It's a soft silk one I bought last week - only affordable because of the sale. I hadn't thought about it, hadn't thought about the date or anything. Just wanted a splash of colour for a similarly boring day as the last.

"Not unusually," I comment. I often wear more than just the monochrome of Malfoy's choosing.

He smirks at me. "It's St. Patty's Day."

"Who?"

"St. Patrick, you dunce," Malfoy laughs, shaking his head. Is that glitter in his hair? Can't be. "You know, the green holiday. I'm part Irish, if you didn't know. Top of the mornin to ya, and all that." His attempt at the accent is ludicrous. "You're coming out with me tonight." It's not a question.

"Nope," I answer.

"Yes," he says, dragging himself closer on the wheels of his roller-chair. I roll my eyes at him. "Just this once. St. Patrick's is the wildest, most wonderful party New York has to offer. Booze, girls, guys," he winks at me, "and more entertainment than you can dream of. Irish beer, dancing... Come on, Hermione, you'd love it."

I shake my head. "Not sure I agree with that, Draco. Given that I strongly dislike clubs and I'm not looking for a man right now."

"So, look for a lady, I don't care, just come out."

"Will you stop badgering me if I go out with you just this once?"

"Yes."

"Great. Count me in."

I almost regret it the moment the words spill from my lips. However, I don't get the opportunity as Madame Checkerton announces her presence with a stalking group of Aurors behind her and a grim expression painting her face. That means trouble. Malfoy and I share a glance, and then we stand up to greet her. The President of MACUSA, Checkerton, is vigilant with her timings, and she hates to wait for anyone but herself.

She's a bitch, basically. She's the reason we've been here six months, rather than six days.

The horrible day that today is turns into some sort of green, magical wonderland of St. Patrick's hilarity. Not only does Checkerton fall on her arse a couple of times, but birds poop on the shoulders of the Aurors and anyone who has been cruel. It's a miracle, somewhat.

Finally, it's all over, and Draco is dragging me outdoors with him, waving to strangers on the street, donning an altogether new personality for the festivities. He seems to carry this wild spirit with him, and suddenly we're drinking together, making new friends, and having the time of our lives. I know Malfoy likes to make a joke, but I had no idea that he was so much Merlin-damning fun.

I have never had so much to drink in my entire life.

Never have I even been so drawn to the fun, to the action everywhere.

I can also say, with no word of a lie, that I have never had quite so much fun.

The extraordinarily disgusting hangover is actually worth it, for once.

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Thanks for reading!