Unfortunate Events

Event Four: Miserable Mill

"My door was open?" She never left her door open.

"Well, it was unlocked, but let's not haggle over semantics."

She didn't leave her door unlocked either. The snake broke in!

Whipping out her wand, Hermione walked over to him, pointing it under his throat. There was no Ron or Harry to save him now. But unlike the Buckbeak incident in third year when Malfoy was reduced to a quivering mess, the boy didn't even react. Just brushed her wand to the side, looking up at her with an infuriating calm.

"Really, Hermione? I lived under the same roof as Voldemort. And as much as you pretend to be a harpy, I know you don't have it in you to harm a house-elf, let alone your very first boyfriend."

This was bordering on ridiculous. Sure, she should have expected to run into Malfoy at some point during her life; wizarding Britain was large, but not that large. But four times in two weeks. "Are you stalking me?" she said.

"Good morning to you too."

Shoving Malfoy's feet to the floor, she began brushing the surface of her desk with her hands. "Did anyone see you come in?" she asked, trying to keep her voice down.

"Relax. There's no point in hiding anymore." He waved his own copy of the Daily Prophet in the air. "The secret's out."

Hermione tore the paper away, smacking Malfoy on the arm. "This isn't funny! Now get out of my chair."

Malfoy wouldn't budge, so she yanked on his arm, succeeding only in being pulled into his lap. She tried scrambling up, but he wouldn't release her. "You realize I only do this because it riles you up. If you would just stop, maybe even ask nicely, I would let you go."

Before she could respond, a series of knocks came at her door. "Granger, are you in there? And what's this mess outside your door?" The voice was gravelly, like there was a frog stuck in the man's throat. It sounded like...

Malfoy looked about to speak, so Hermione slapped one hand over his mouth, while the other she used to place a finger on her lips. It was a universally accepted symbol for "Be quiet, you idiot" but somehow Malfoy had missed that particular memo.

"Come in," he said.

Malfoy finally let go. From the way Hermione leapt out of his lap, one would think she was sitting on a bed of hot coals.

A short, round man with a bushy red beard waddled into her office, holding his own copy of the Daily Prophet. Wayne Scholes, head of her department, a.k.a. worst boss in the world and bane of her existence. Well, after the prat sitting in her chair. "Granger, what's this nonsense about—Oy, what's this? I don't pay you to fraternize with your boyfriend."

"Not at all, Mr. Scholes." Draco stood up and walked towards her boss, extending his arm for a handshake, which Hermione noticed was not returned. "I was just here on a matter of business."

Scholes cleared his throat, tucking the paper under his arm. "I suppose I have you to thank for the recent influx of donations our department has received."

Malfoy opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the loud throat clearing of Mr. Scholes. "Hmmmm. Hmmmergh." He sounded like a bullfrog. Hermione tried not to gag as he finally managed to dislodge the phlegm from his throat and hock it into her rubbish bin. Malfoy, she noticed, didn't even seem to be affected. No doubt he was desensitized by growing up with Crabbe and Goyle.

"I'm afraid I can't take any credit for that, sir. Much as Rita Skeeter thinks I was responsible, it was Miss Granger who convinced the investors to donate to your worthy cause."