Unfortunate Events

Event Four: Miserable Mill

"I suppose you'll be wanting some kind of financial recognition for it, Granger?"

Why yes, as a matter of fact she did. She had earned it, practically killing herself with work the very instant she had been hired. But these weren't things she could very well say to her boss.

It turns out the man wasn't even expecting an answer.

"Very well, very well. I suppose we can also move you into Bob's corner office while we're at it. He decided to take the job in the Beast Division just this morning. We'll have you in his office by late afternoon."

Without another word, her boss shuffled out of the office.

"You don't have to thank me," Malfoy said. "Though it would be understandable if you did."

Hermione began pacing the office, wringing her hands, completely oblivious to the fact that Malfoy had once again claimed her chair.

"Thank you?! Thank you?! Why would I do that? My coworkers already dislike me. Now they're going to despise me," Hermione groaned.

Malfoy reclined his head against the back of her chair, staring up at her ceiling. "Do you ever stop?"

"Don't you get it, Malfoy? I haven't even been here three months and already I'm getting a promotion. Everyone already thinks I got this job because I'm Harry Potter's best friend. And now, now they'll think that I got this promotion because I'm your girlfriend."

"Who cares what they think?" A stray lock of blond hair fell in his eyes, and he blew it away. His devil-may-care attitude was beginning to grate on her nerves. She was going through a crisis, and he couldn't even get worked up enough to understand why she should be upset.

The anger, annoyance, and weariness were a lethal combination.

"I care," she wailed. She felt the tears threatening to spill over and quickly wiped them away.

"For someone who is considered the brightest witch of her generation, you sure are thick. If you haven't noticed, as far as the wizarding world is concerned, I'm persona non grata. The only reason I was able to get that Aurum lady to speak with you yesterday is because she is an old friend of my mother's. And no one thinks you've risen to your position here by hanging onto Potter's dress robes. If anything, it was the other way around. Potter's too stupid to find his way out of a bag."

Hermione sat down in the middle of the floor, eyes still watering. She wanted to stop crying, really she did. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not the coffee stain on her shirt, or the mess outside her door. Not the horrible lies printed in that stupid paper, or the boss who didn't respect or pay any attention to her hard work, only promoting her because he didn't want to look like he was mistreating Harry Potter's best friend. Not coworkers who whispered behind her back and looked down on her for her age. And certainly not Draco Malfoy witnessing her losing her mind. Merlin, this was so humiliating.

Ever since she had joined the ministry, she had worked herself into the ground, over-committing herself with project after project to prove that she didn't intend to coast on Harry's fame, that she really belonged here in spite of her age. She literally had no break since the end of the War. Mourning the loss of everyone who had died, finding her parents, dealing with the whole Ron situation, graduating from Hogwarts. And now, the week before her monthlies, it was all crashing down. Even her hormones were conspiring against her. She knew this breakdown had been coming for months. But it was supposed to happen within the privacy of her own flat, not in front of Malfoy! It was just too much to take. Hermione lay down on the ground, willing it to swallow her up.

"Bloody hell, what is the matter with you?" Malfoy walked over to her, and she started crying harder. "You're going to have to get up. I refuse to sit on the floor," he said.