Dramione Drabbles: Organized Chaos part I Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Hermione laid her head on her folded arms and glared at the clock on her desk as if it had personally offended her. Five minutes. She had five more minutes until she could pack up her things and get the hell out of that stifling office. If Zabini didn’t get the air fixed soon she was going to turn in her resignation letter. There was a rapping sound behind her and a familiar voice floated in from the doorway. “Granger.” What had she done in her past life to deserve this? She turned and glared at the owner of the voice. “What do you want, Malfoy?” She asked, as scathing as possible. “Surely you have better things to do with your time than harass lowly paralegals.” He seemed to take in her appearance for a moment before he smirked. “Even royalty has to appear before peasants every once in awhile.” Did he really just- “You sure think highly of yourself, don’t you?” She sighed, eying the clock once more. “Though I suppose your little fan base upstairs does nothing to deflate that ego of yours, throwing themselves at your feet like they do.” He shrugged. “Why fight it when you can sit back and reap the rewards?” “Ugh, please spare me the visuals.” He made a small noise that sounded like a held in laugh. “While I do enjoy making you uncomfortable, I did come here for an actual reason.” He motioned to the files in his hand. “Oh, no.” she groaned. “No! I am leaving. Leaving, Malfoy.” “But Blaise told me –“ She shook her head fervently. “I don’t care if the minister for magic asked you to bring me that case file. I’m not about to spend another moment in this stuffy office. If you hadn’t noticed it's humid and hotter than Merlin's balls in here.” He did laugh then. “You know, I thought your hair looked a bit bushier than normal, but I thought I’d be a gentleman about it and not bring it up.” “Oh, shove off.” She hissed, grabbing what few things she needed and stuffing them in her purse. “I'm serious. I’m not staying here.” She was moving to shoo him away so she could shut her door but an outstretched arm across the threshold stopped her. “ Then why don’t we migrate to my office.” She raised a skeptical brow. “It's air conditioned.” He offered and then smiled coyly. “Not to mention we have a cappuccino machine.” She pondered this for a second, tapping her chin with a finger. “Is it important enough to warrant the over time?” She asked him. He nodded. “It's imperative that we get this done. Very important client. Inheritance dispute.” Oh, wonderful. Probably another pureblood spat over an estate. Why her? She eyed him expectantly. “Am I to assume you’d be helping me with this ‘oh so important' assignment?” “Of course.” He lead her into the hall and waited for her to lock up her office. “Besides, royalty can’t always sit by and let the peasants do all work.” They came upon the elevator hub. She pressed the arrow going up. “You’re going to be insufferable aren’t you?” “Most likely,” He shrugged, “Are you going to be this incorrigible the whole night?” She smirked. “Most likely.” The elevator dinged and he followed her inside. “Brilliant.”
