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    Dislaimer: Nothing but the plot is mine. :)

    As I always feel about alomost every chapter I write, I'm not sure about this one. I hope you like it. Please R&R; I'd love to know what you think!

    Chapter One

      Blaise Zabini wandered down the corridor, looking from office door to office door, trying to find office 7b. The secretary downstairs told Blaise that Mr. Malfoy was busy, as he has only started the new job a week before, but she sent him upstairs anyway. The corridor, which was proclaimed to be in the Department of Magical Games and Sports according to a shining silver sign, was immaculate. Blaise found office 7b fairly easily, despite his throbbing head.

      The door read Mr Draco Malfoy. Underneath stated that he was the junior head of the department. Opposite the door were several white chairs, which reminded Blaise of a hospital. Or a mental institute. Every so often, the desolate atmosphere of the corridor was interrupted by a passing Ministry worker, or a visitor. An elderly woman, with drooping eyes, took the seat next to Blaise for a moment before leaving hurriedly. Blaise didn’t even notice she was there until she asked softly, “Do you know the time, dear?” Blaise didn’t gesture to the large clock in front of the two of them.  

      Blaise wrung his hands, edgily waiting for the door to open. Blaise’s nails dug into his palms, drawing blood. Blaise winced slightly; momentarily surprised that he could still feel pain. He couldn’t feel anything else. Blaise half-heartily tore his hands apart. As the clock ticked like a drum, Blaise took his eyes away from it for a brief moment to inspect his nails. Fresh blood lined the tips, grinning at him maliciously.

      A young woman, with flaming red hair trailing down her back, drifted past him. She paused, glancing at the clock and at the office numbers. Blaise recognized her; she was in the year below him at Hogwarts. She murmured something, taking the seat next to Blaise that the old woman had left. The woman was pregnant; her blouse seemed uncomfortably tight around her stomach area. She kept looking at Blaise, seemingly pondering something. She left when the man, whose office was next to Draco’s, emerged. She didn’t seem very happy with him as she stormed into his office uninvited.

      Blaise’s dark eyes returned to the clock face. Each tick, full of spite, seemed to rip at his skin. Blaise blinked; his eyes were dry and bloodshot. He hadn’t slept in three nights. He hadn’t eaten either; he was unsure if he could stomach anything right now and -

      Finally, the clock chimed. Blaise jumped up, his rutted shoulders suddenly making some sort of movement. He stared eagerly at the door, his hands shaking. The door opened slowly, taunting him, as the light from behind the door leaked through the crack. Blaise bounced his knee in anticipation.

      “Blaise,” Draco Malfoy smirked, leaning on the doorframe. He nodded at his friend, amicably; but any courtesy the nod held was stripped by that idle smirk.

      A tall, slim woman stood behind Draco. Her hair was blonde, contrasting heavily to her mousy-brown roots. Her crimson lipstick was smudged, her cheeks flushed and she hastily did up the last few buttons on her ruffled blouse. Her collar was askew, revealing a blood-red bra strap. She hurried brushed past Draco and Blaise, her long nails clutching onto a tacky handbag.

      Blaise, almost forgetting the reason why he was here, raised his eyebrows at his friend. Draco smirked and, with a shrug, said easily, “Step into my office.”

      Blaise followed Draco into the office, taking the seat in front of the desk that Draco offered him. Draco Malfoy, sitting in the more comfortable-looking chair behind the desk, looked at him with mild interest. Blaise looked to his feet, his eyes travelling across the floor to the bin in the corner.

      “Merlin,” Blaise raised his eyebrows at Draco, who shrugged again. Inside the bin were several lacy knickers; one of which was blood-red, “Same woman?”

      Draco lazily drawled, “Of course not.” His eyes glinted mischievously, “Dear Pansy,” he said sardonically, “Is away with her father. I don’t think I should be expected to be celibate.” Draco smirked, waiting for Blaise to laugh. He said nothing. Draco rolled his eyes, gesturing towards the exhausted-looking man, who rubbed his eyes wearingly, “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, Blaise.

      Blaise looked up, his eyes catching Draco’s. Neither of the two looked away. Draco let a blonde hair fall lightly onto his cheek.

      “I’ve done something stupid.”

      Draco’s eye-contact didn’t waver. Blaise looked away, wetting his lips. Draco waited, looking impatient.

      “What?” Draco rolled his eyes again, “You can’t have done anything that can’t be fixed,” Draco paused, “If you cheated on your wife, you can pay the girl you did it with to keep quiet.” Draco smirked and added, “Or girls, if you like it like that.”

      “I killed her.”

      Draco coughed, “You killed the girl you slept with?!”

      Blaise stood up, slamming his bleeding fist onto the desk, “NO! I fucking poisoned my wife.”

      Draco looked up at him, half-expecting Blaise to start laughing and announce the joke. When no such announcement came, Draco also stood, hastily brushing his hair from his eyes.

      “Seriously?” Draco held his breath, an unsure expression on his pointed features that somehow suited him.

      “No, I’m lying. My wife’s body is not currently in my attic,” Blaise hissed.

      Draco, a look of deadly awe on his face, raised his eyebrows, “I never thought you’d take after your mother, Blaise.” His tone was airy, but his eyes said differently, “Why’d you do it?”

      “It-” Blaise slumped down into the chair, a distressed look in his eyes, “It seemed like a good idea at the time. I was having dreams and… I didn’t – I don’t! – want my daughter to be fatherless, Draco!”

      “Now she’s motherless, you know that?” Draco sat on his desk. Blaise buried his face in his hands, “I don’t know if your wife would have killed you; she did remind me of your mother though.”

      Blaise nodded gravely. Draco paused thoughtfully.

      “No use crying over spilt blood,” Draco clapped his hands together, “What do you want me to do for you?” He added, with a snide tone to his drawl. Blaise looked up at his friend; he couldn’t say he was that surprised at Draco’s reaction – the man had very little compassion, and seemed to be without remorse most of the time.

      “I don’t know, I-”

      Suddenly, the office door opened. A woman, who was held an open case-file in one hand, strolled into the room. She didn’t look at the door, “Gary, could you take a-” The woman stopped in her tracks, her dark eyes looking from the file. Her jaw dropped animatingly. She widened her eyes; a look of anger was in them after the initial shock wore away.

      “Malfoy!?” She spat, brushing a bushy curl, that had fallen from her tight bun, behind her ear, “What are you doing in Gary’s office!?”

      Draco smirked, gesturing to the open door, “Welcome to my office. Shut the door, Granger; a draught is coming in.”

      “Granger-Weasley!” Hermione raised her left hand, showing a simple gold ring along with a small engagement ring on her ring-finger, “You took Gary’s job?!”

      “Gary got the sack, Hermione Granger-Weasley,” Draco said easily, “Can’t you afford a newspaper? Oh, that’s right; by the look of the tiny diamond on that ring, Weasley must have sold his house. How is the box?”

      Hermione was fuming, “You haven’t grown up yet, Draco Malfoy?” She said, sarcasm dripping from her lips. She looked over to the bin, noticing the underwear, “Oh Merlin.” She raised an eyebrow.

      “That’s what they said,” Draco smirked, getting to his feet. Blaise looked from one to the other, sitting up straight. Hermione looked at Blaise’s red eyes, a crease appearing in-between her eyebrows.

      “Are you okay?” She asked slowly, watching Blaise with intelligent eyes. Blaise looked away as Draco walked towards Hermione.

      “Mind your own business,” Draco said darkly, “And leave my office. I was having a nice day before I saw your face.”

      Hermione looked affronted, but not surprised. She left, slamming the door. Draco chuckled.

      “She is exactly the same.”

      “As are you,” Blaise added, “She doesn’t look as bushy as she used to...”

      Draco looked disgusted, “Don’t even imply that she’s attractive,” Draco paused, “And keep it in your pants, Blaise; you’ve only just poisoned your wife.”

      Blaise rubbed his temples tiredly, recalling their conversation before Granger-Weasley interrupted.

      “What do you want me to do for you?” Draco repeated, reading his mind. Blaise licked his lips.

      “My daughter is downstairs.”

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