Work Text:
Someone had put a sticking charm in the filing cabinet. Either that or something was jammed into the drawer’s tracking. It pissed her off. For a moment she just glared at the piece of office furniture, its bland, beige paint peeling at the corners. If she didn’t need the file that she just knew was in the recesses of the cabinet she would have set the entire damn thing on fire.
Heaving a sigh, Hermione let her body drop into her chair, the wheels squeaking under her minuscule weight. She’d been stuck in this office for years, slowly whittling away at the archaic legislation that wound around their society, choking it like a weed. At least they could have given her a fucking window. But no. That would make things pleasant for her and she was fairly certain that was against the rules somewhere. The thought made her scowl.
She leaned back and blew a wayward curl from her face before narrowing her eyes at the filing cabinet once more. What the hell was she doing with her life? Her small office suddenly felt more oppressive, the fucking filing cabinet looming over her like a gargoyle. Insane. She was slowly going insane from the monotony that was Ministry life.
“This is the Swamp of Sadness,” she muttered to herself, her face pulling into a mask of horror. “Fuck.”
She was vaguely aware of the rapping of knuckles against the doorframe. “Um. Ms. Granger?”
“Yes?” she asked, her gaze still fixed on the filing cabinet. There was a patch of rust on the middle drawer.
“I’ve got your tea. Black with two sugars.”
Tea. No one ever brought her tea, she never even asked for tea. Besides, only interns went around collecting drink orders and delivering them and she’d always considered that a waste of manpower. She finally swiveled around to stare up at Scorpius Malfoy: department intern and glorified waiter.
Hermione smiled. “Thank you, Scorpius,” she said, motioning to a small space on the top of her desk. There were veritable towers of files to put away, and she had every intention of doing so once the damn cabinet became unstuck.
Scorpius was the spitting image of his father, which was disconcerting at first glance. At least, she thought as she began to part the sea of papers and office supplies to make a path to the steaming paper cup, he had his mother’s disposition. Astoria Malfoy was sweetness personified and to this day Hermione couldn’t help but wonder just how Draco had managed to win her over.
“Sit,” she told him as she pulled her cup towards her, careful not to slosh any tea over the edge. “Well, sit if you can find somewhere to sit. Move whatever you need to and we’ll pretend that I have some sort of system for all of this nonsense.
He let out a soft chuckle before perching himself on the edge of the one other chair in her office. There was a smallish file box behind him and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was digging into his back. But he didn’t move it, and she didn’t say anything.
Sitting up in her chair, she stared down at her tea and let out a sigh as she felt her spine pop. There was an iridescent layer swirling over the top of the dark amber liquid and she had a sneaking suspicion that the tea was not only over-steeped but over-sugared.
“Ms. Granger.”
“Hmm?” she took a sip of her drink. It was hot liquid sugar.
He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat as though he was nervous. The blond hair and pointed features that distinctly identified him as a Malfoy, his sudden sheepish demeanor, however, did not. Hermione couldn’t help but feel a tinge of concern as she regarded him, her brow arched.
“I’ve read all of your legislation,” he said, the words rushing out of him like a torrent. “And all of it comes across as succinct and compassionate without a single ounce of wiggle room for anything even remotely resembling a loophole. It’s bloody brilliant.”
Up until that moment, she never thought that Malfoy’s could blush - clearly, he’d received that trait from his mother. She took another sip of her tea flavored liquid sugar and let herself sink back in her chair. This kid got it, she realized then. He looked past the pureblood ideologies that no doubt would have been drilled into him in another era and saw what she was trying to do.”
“Thank you, Scorpius. I don’t believe that anyone has ever referred to my legislation as bloody brilliant before. Mostly I’m just told that it’s a bloody pain in the arse,” she said, her mouth curling up into a smirk that would have made his father proud.
It occurred to her then that perhaps the faulty filing cabinet and the mountain range of parchment that crowded her office was actually worth it. That the next generation had a damn good shot at finishing what she’d started, their antiquated grandparents be damned. She was certain there would be a plethora of Malfoys rolling in their graves at the thought alone. That alone was vindication enough for her.
“Do you happen to be any good with sticking charms or file cabinet maintenance? Not that that is even remotely important in regards to the exclusive internship I’m about to offer you.”
The smile he gave her was genuine, albeit briefly, before it morphed into a near-perfect imitation of his father.
“Paid internship.”
“So long as you never fix my tea for me again, yes.”