Desk Job

Chapter Three- King Pin Chicken For All
Chapter Track: Five Days by Tricky

Blaise Zabini had known Draco Malfoy since they were little kids. She knew to expect sarcasm, cynicism, and even the occasional temper tantrum- although now at twenty years of age Draco had thankfully given up the habit of kicking people's shins to get his way. But despite their friendship nothing could have prepared Blaise for the consequences of rooming with the youngest member of the Malfoy clan. An early morning incident was enough to convince Blaise she'd need to shop around for a patience potion... And it was only the second day since he'd arrived.

"Wha-?" Blaise mumbled in a groggy morning voice and opened her eyes. A very out-of-place aroma had dragged her from her slumber. Blaise rolled over to face what a few hours before would have been a sleeping Draco and promptly sat up with a jerk.

"Draco!" she yelled angrily, pressing her palm against her forehead to quell the oncoming head rush.

Draco ceremoniously stepped out of the bathroom and leaned against the door post wearing a dark hotel housecoat, arms crossed over his chest, his toothbrush in his mouth and a look on his face suggesting she had very rudely interrupted him.

"What," Blaise said, pointing to the bed where a bucket of extremely greasy-looking pieces of fried chicken stained the red sheets with oil and God knows what else. Blaise could see what looked like a white bowling pin printed on the bucket, but she had no desire to touch it to see the rest of the logo. "What is that doing on the bed?"

Draco pulled the toothbrush out of his mouth, unconsciously hitting the wall paper with flecks of freshmint.

"It's breakfast," he answered simply. "You're toaster is still broken."

"Ugh." Blaise fell back in bed, causing the bucket to tip over and spill it's grimy contents onto the sheets. "Did you have to put it right beside my head while I was sleeping?"

Draco shrugged. "I find the smell rather soothing. Anyway, help yourself. I already had six pieces."

Draco retreated to the bathroom while Blaise fought the urge to throw up. She got out of bed with a sigh and walked over to her closet.

"Why are you up so early, anyway?" she called to Draco, raising her voice over the sound of running water from the sink.

"I couldn't sleep," Draco replied, sticking his head through the doorway again. Blaise was amused to see his chin half- covered with shaving cream. "Besides," he added, casting her a dark look. "It's not as if I exhausted myself last night."

Blaise frowned into her closet.

"How can one person be so selfish?" Blaise wondered aloud as she pulled a set of robes from her closet.

"I don't know," Draco said peevishly. "Let's ask her."

Blaise scoffed and strode over to the bathroom. She leaned against the door post and stared at Draco. He didn't look at her, but frowned at his reflection in the mirror and picked up his razor. Blaise watched him ignore her in silence for a few minutes. Draco was very good at pretending people aren't there, and it really burned her up sometimes. But Blaise would be damned to let him know it.

"Maddicott wants to question me again about the murder," Blaise told him indifferently, looking at her nails.

"Who cares? You weren't even there." Draco made a long stroke down his chin and glanced at Blaise. "Were you?"

"No, I wasn't," she snapped, angry that he would even suggest that. "God. Fuck you."

Blaise could tell by the way Draco's mouth was working that he was more than annoyed.

"He doesn't even have a right to be mad," Blaise thought, watching him shave. "I had a lot on my mind last night, and all he can think about is-- chicken. That fucking chicken is all over the bed. Maybe the maid will clean it up. God, what a mess this all is-"

Blaise had begun to play with her long crimson hair, lost in thought. Draco watched her gaze rove along the tiled floor. Draco hadn't neglected to notice the flattering silk pajamas Blaise wore, or the way the eye makeup that she had failed to wash off the night before had darkened around her eyes in the most enticing way, giving her an almost sinister appearance. Blaise lifted her eyes to his, aware that she had his full attention, and smiled. Draco averted his eyes but it was too late. He had lost the first match of the day.
Blaise gently took the razor from his hand and, her body leaning against his shoulder, slowly ran it over a spot that he'd missed.

"No matter what, Malfoy," Blaise said quietly into his ear in a mock sweet tone. "I'll always be close to your heart, won't I?"

Draco smirked as she brought the razor down his throat.

"And even closer to my jugular."

***

Hermione Granger made her way through the desks, noise, and people that made up the busy floor of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement. He coworkers met her with oddly strained expressions before they silently lowered their heads to their work, and whispers followed her as she past. Maybe I should have stayed home, she thought.
Hermione walked past an empty desk and opened the door to the glassed-in laboratory. A number of wizards in white lab coats were occupied with test tubes filled with brightly colored potions, others used complex spells and incantations on evidence, and others sat on high metal chairs, eating lunch. Hermione spied a young, lanky wizard with bulky black glasses studying some charts on the side of the room. She approached him and lightly tapped him on the shoulder.

"Pollocks?"

Pollocks jumped and dropped his charts. He turned around, his eyes round.

"O-oh," he said, looking more than a little disappointed. "It's just you, Hermione. I- I thought it was somebody else, um, back again."

"Blaise?" Hermione didn't bother to hide the contempt in her voice.

Pollocks looked at the floor sheepishly then stooped down to collect his charts.

"You- you're not allowed in here," he said from the floor.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Did you tell that to Blaise, too?"

Pollocks straightened up, placing the charts on the table. He pushed up his glasses and said,

"D-do you want something, Hermione?"

Hermione took a deep breath.

"I know you collected the evidence from Mr. Noonan's office yesterday, and I want to know what you've got so far. Now, I know you're not suppose to discuss it with any outsiders but I'm practically involved, Pollocks, so don't give me that look. Please."

Pollocks shook his head.

"I-I hardly know anything," he said nervously, staring at the ground. "A-all I do is take pictures... they won't even let me near the more complicated equipment." Pollocks shot a look at the other lab technicians, and Hermione could've sworn he was pouting. She decided to take a different, less agreeable approach.

"Listen, you," she snarled. An older lab tech looked at her as he past and Hermione lowered her voice. "I want to know why Mr. Noonan was killed and I wasn't, so you'd better tell me, right? "

Pollocks only stared at her for a moment, his eyes wide with surprise and- ahh, hurt. Hermione felt awful. Then the boy slinked over to a large file cabinet, returned hastily a minute later and handed her a yellow envelope. Hermione opened the flap and pulled out a half a dozen black and white wizard photos. Each one was of different things found in the office, a toppled chair, a singed window curtain... Hermione swallowed hard. Mr. Noonan's body, sprawled out on the floor, inches away from where she had been lying...

Suddenly Hermione's stomach gave a jolt as a memory from that evening surfaced.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said. Then he raised his wand... wait, was it a wand? Of course, yes. The voice had definitely been male, but- Hermione struggled to hold onto the images but they were already slipping away.

"H-Hermione?" Pollocks' hesitating voice was a long way from the murderer's. Hermione glanced at the pictures again.

"Hermione, if-if you remember anything-"

Hermione raised her eyebrows, daring Pollocks to finish. The boy brace himself.

"It's not your job, Hermione. You- you have to tell Maddicott if you remember something."

"Yeah, sure," Hermione lied. She shook her head as if to clear it. "Now tell me what you know."

Pollocks looked around the lab.

"I-I told you I don't know very much," he began quickly. "Mr. Noonan was killed by the Avada Kedavra curse. Maybe before, maybe after you walked in on the murderer. It's like I told Blaise this morning, we don't have an accurate account of-"

"Wait," Hermione stopped him in disbelief. "Blaise Zabini? You were talking to Blaise Zabini about the case? Why would she care?"

Pollocks looked miserable. He stared at the ground and ran a hand along the counter uneasily. Hermione tossed the envelope back onto the counter and turned around.

"Thanks," she muttered, and left.

***

"I have never been this bored in my entire life," Draco thought, sitting at his desk facing the glassed-in lab. "Oh wait, yes I have. Yesterday, when I sat here for three God-awful hours."

Draco Malfoy had been at work for only an hour and already he was ready to transfigure his desk into a bed and sleep until lunch. Draco didn't even think anyone else would notice. All the other people on the floor were running around like ants, each with their own specially assigned task, their own important work to do that involved sending owls, meeting people, filling out extensive paper work and making deadlines.

"Maybe I shouldn't complain," he thought sarcastically. "It looks like I have it pretty easy."

Nonetheless, Draco considered taking a little walk to be no more productive than what he had been doing at his desk- that is to say, nothing- so he left it to familiarize himself with the environment, and maybe drop in on Blaise a little later.

An interesting- looking fellow in a cubicle a few paces away from Draco's desk was half-sitting, half- standing, as if neither was important enough to interrupt the letter he was frantically writing. Mildly curious, Draco casually peered over the short man's shoulder at the owl.

"Whatcha doing?" Draco asked loudly.

The wizard jumped violently and spun around.

"Wha- who?"

"I'm Draco Malfoy," Draco forced his face into a big, phony smile and shook the wizard's hand. "I'm new here. What are you up to today?"

"Umm," the wizard looked confused. "I, well, the usual, I guess."

Draco stretched his smile even wider. It was quite painful, actually.

"Humor me with specifics."

"I'm investigating a double murder in which the main suspect has just fled to a chocolate factory and transfigured herself into a drop of chocolate. I have to write an owl asking permission for the guys there to seize the factory and modify the Muggles. So if you'll excuse me-"

"Would you still eat the chocolate," Draco asked as the man sat down at his desk. "I mean, even if the murderer was swimming around in it as a tiny drop? Wouldn't that be horribly cruel to the Muggles, to have them eating that nasty murderer chocolate and not even know it? Not that I'm a Muggle rights activist or anything, but-"

"PLEASE," the man snapped. "Please, I have a lot of work to do, so if you don't mind..."

"So can I come along?" Draco continued in the same drawling tone. "I've never seen a chocolate factory before, and I'm kind of hungry-"

"Arrgh!" the man exclaimed before Disapparating with a pop.

Draco smirked and looked at the man's personal items on the desk for a few minutes. There were framed photos of an old woman Draco presumed to be the man's mother, one of an ugly spotted poodle, and another photo of an attractive witch that looked suspiciously like it came with the frame.

"How wonderfully depressing," he mused.

Draco stepped out of the cubicle and was almost trampled by a fat wizard in brown robes.

"Who the fuck are you?" The speaker, or spitter, to be more precise, was Maddicott, in all his balding glory.

"Draco Malfoy," Draco reminded the man impatiently. "You hired me yesterday... never told me what my job was..."

"Malfoy," Maddicott made a very nasty grimace. "What are you doing away from your desk?"

"I was going to the bathroom," Draco lied.

"Then stop snooping around other people's property and go," Maddicott growled.

"Right here?"

"No!" Maddicott was getting very angry. His bald scalp was starting to shine. Draco could tell this conversation could escalate faster than Maddicott's blood pressure, so he decided to wrap it up.

"It was really something to talk to you, sir," Draco said quickly as he walked away. "We'll have to whatever later, see you."

Draco made his way over to the main office and entered the reception room without knocking. He had obviously caught Blaise off guard, because as the door opened she hastily swung her dark green boots down from the desk, knocking over a pile of papers and dropping the thick fashion magazine she had been reading.

"Draco, you worthless git," Blaise said breathlessly. "I thought it was Maddicott."

"Hm." Draco closed the door behind him. "What does it take to put a locking charm on this door? Two murders?" He laughed dryly and Blaise used magic to collect her papers from the floor.

"Ha ha," Blaise said flatly. "If only we could all be as care free as Draco and crack jokes all day."

Draco collapsed in a white leather waiting chair.

"Why, is it just me or is it a little bitter in here?"

"Sarcasm is just one of the many services we offer," Blaise said slyly, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs. She smiled devilishly. "You can have fun imagining the others."

Draco got out of his chair and slowly walked over to Blaise's desk. He leaned over it and kissed Blaise, running a hand through her hair. Suddenly Draco opened his eyes and saw something that made him pull away from Blaise in horror.

It was the face of Hermione Granger, with her ever bushy brown hair forming a cloud around her head and thick brows lowered in a disapproving scowl.

"Holy shit!"

Draco could now see that about ten framed photos of Hermione Granger's head lined the wall behind Blaise's desk. How he didn't notice them before, Draco couldn't say. Maybe there was something different with her teeth.

"-Fuck, damn, crap," Draco wiped his mouth on the back of his hand furiously.

"You weren't kissing her, you know," Blaise said icily, tapping her quill on the desk.

"Who in perfect sanity would hang up ten of the same photo of Granger?" Draco made a face as he said her name. "And for what diabolical reason?"

"Besides torture," Blaise answered coolly. "Those are the employees of the month for the past nine- there are nine pictures, learn to count- months. I've tried to get them out of here but apparently it's tradition that they should ugly-up the reception room."

"She works here?" Draco was furious. "And Potter works a few floors down? Let me guess, Weasley is the janitor and they team up to fight evil by night, hmm? The Terrific Trio? The Smarmed ones?"

"Draco, don't shout," Blaise glanced towards the office door of the late Mr. Noonan. "I have something for you..."

Blaise shuffled around the papers that littered her desk until she found a small piece of parchment with a familiar black seal on it. She held it out to him.

"From daddy."

Draco took the letter and smirked.

"I bet it says, I'm terribly sorry to have kicked you out of your home, your mother and I miss the way you brighten up our day with your smile, please come home, and lets play catch in the yard later."

"If that's what Lucius wrote, I'll shave my head and become a nun," Blaise said, opening her magazine again.

Draco broke the seal on the paper and unfolded it. Inside was one line of his father's neat cursive.

"Draco, meet me for dinner at Duplessis'. Eight.
-Lucius"

"Well?" Blaise asked him a minute later. Draco folded the letter up again and placed it in his pocket. Blaise was trying not to look too interested, but Draco suddenly didn't have the energy to tease her.

"He wants to speak to me." Draco thought for one fleeting second to ask Blaise to come along, but the feeling passed and he turned to leave.

"Draco," Blaise called from her desk, her eyes still on the page of her magazine. "Do you want to have lunch later?"

"Yeah," Draco stopped in the doorway. "Where?"

***

The cafeteria at Ministry Headquarters was located on the second floor of the building. There were hundreds of long plastic tables with small stools attached to them, robbing a person of their right to sit as far or as close to the human being sitting next to them.

The noise was unbearable, and Draco almost too irritated to speak. Almost.

"Why do we have to eat in here?" he demanded.

Sitting across from him, Blaise was inspecting her fruit salad and didn't answer.

"I mean," Draco went on. "It's crowded, the soup of the day is actually the soup of yesterday, plus carrots, and it's so loud in here, I can't even hear myself gripe."

"I can hear you," Blaise said, picking a piece of banana out of her salad and tossing it onto the table.

Draco slouched over the table and looked sideways at the other side of the cafeteria.

"Isn't that the kid that came over to your flat the other day?" Draco asked, nodding towards a brown-haired boy sitting alone at one end of a long table.

"Yeah," Blaise answered breezily, flicking a slice of orange to her growing pile on the table. A lock of her hair dragged into her dish and she pulled it out, nose crinkled in disgust. "He's in love with me."

Draco looked at her disbelievingly.

"So was Professor Snape, but I bet you wouldn't feel to comfortable saying that."

"You laugh now," Blaise said, tossing out another banana piece. "But watch this, it's the saddest thing. HEY! POLLOCKS!"

Pollocks looked up from his lunch so fast Draco thought his neck had snapped.

"What are you doing?" Draco hissed as Blaise waved for the younger boy to come over. "I don't want to be seen sitting beside that idiot, everyone hates-"

Pollocks had raced over and he fell onto the stool beside Draco preceding the noisy clattering of his lunch tray and a wide grin on his face that wavered only a twitch when he glanced at Draco.

"-him," Draco finished, scowling.

"H-hello, Blaise," Pollocks said jovially.

"Hello, Pollocks," Blaise replied. "How has your day been?"

"O-okay, I guess," Pollocks told her, poking absently at his food with his fork. Draco folded his arms on the table and put his head down, wishing idly he were somewhere else, but not knowing exactly where.

"I was working on a new file this morning when Hermione Granger came over and talked to me. Then after I was told to clean all the five hundred milliliter graduated cylinders. That's not really my job, but I did it anyway- um- I-I, uh-"

As easily as Draco had tuned out of Rocket's boring monologue, he looked up again as the other boy faltered.

The cause of Pollocks' distraction was obvious. Blaise, who had taken almost every piece of fruit out of her salad, had begun to eat the only fruit left in the dish: the cherries. All the while Pollocks had been yammering on, Blaise had been savoring her lunch in the most overtly seductive way imaginable. Rolling them around in her mouth, pretending to actually be concentrating on what Rocket had to say. Draco was used to what would politely be called Blaise's "whiles," but the effect it had on the younger boy was very amusing to watch. Pollocks had stopped bothering to speak; his mouth now hung open and he hardly dared to blink.

"Lest he miss a second of this trashy noontime spectacle," Draco thought bitterly. Poor Blaise. She could have anybody she wants but doesn't want anyone. Not really, anyway. It was a strange thing, Blaise had seemed so popular with the older boys at Hogwarts. She didn't even look at Draco, and now, he was her only friend.

Draco smirked as he thought of the world's invisible justice system, but his grin quickly faded when he wondered what was in store for him.