Hi guys! A new fic has appeared. Fear not if you are following Unsuitable Employment, or any of my other work, nothing is abandoned. A plot bunny or two have been lingering for a while…

Ernest Tuttlewitt's vivid and gaudy sleeveless jumper encased and disguised a very dull man. It was knitted for him by Mrs. Tuttlewitt and was part of an endless stream of new and increasingly hideous sweaters and cardigans she seemed to produce at the rate of knots. Hermione rolled her eyes at his stories. She had rapidly mastered the art of mentally drifting to another place as he regaled her with tales of his wife's knitting, and their riveting evenings spent in the company of a 5000 piece jigsaw and steaming, endless mugs of cocoa, before they tucked up under matching floral bedspreads in their cosy, twin beds, the lights out by nine thirty. Still, as bosses went, he was a decent soul. Kind eyes with a dull glow seemed enormous through his thick jam-jar spectacles and his thin lips smiled back at her with a genuine paternal warmth. His hair was a work of art, over-long strands slicked down into an intricate thatch in a fruitless attempt to conceal the wide expanse of scalp that now gleamed through the gaps. Though small in stature, he was almost as wide as he was tall, a situation he blamed firmly on Mrs. Tuttlewitt's delicious cakes and pies. A generous man, he often made concerted attempts to feed up Hermione, sharing his supply of baked goodies and insisting she came for dinner and had a hearty meal as often as she liked. He was difficult to dislike, but hard to be enthused by.

As a new employee at the Ministry of Magic, Hermione had been placed in the Department for the Procurement of Dark Objects for the last six months. It sounded considerably more dangerous and glamorous than the reality. Most days were spent doing endless cataloguing, making lists and checking inventories. Occasionally Hermione would be sent to collect something, though never unaccompanied. Ernest was a cautious man, but always seemed to exaggerate the risk. She had fought in Dumbledore's Army as a schoolgirl. It hardly seemed likely she would flee, screaming in terror when confronted by a possessed teapot requiring collection from a village in North Yorkshire. A fresh report of a troublesome object would come in, she would insist she was up to the task alone, but Ernest would already be pulling on his cloak and cap, attempting to look serious and grave, despite the glimpses of lurid, neon wool that peeped out from beneath the outer layer of clothing.

"Come on my dear girl, we have work to do. It's a dangerous job, but someone's got to do it," he would say every time without fail, filled with a jolly sense of thrill.

In truth, Ernest was a lovely man, as dull as dishwater, but an avid collector and bursting with knowledge. Hermione contented herself that however boring it was, it wasn't forever and at least she would learn something, if she could only manage to stay awake as he talked endlessly about mundane objects imbued with occult powers. Occasionally, very occasionally he would tell her about something truly sinister. His perky voice would sink to a low and hushed tone. Those times he did hold her attention. She had expected a department run to tackle dark objects to be like that all day every day. Haunted crockery and endless reports and needless paperwork were more typical of her daily duties. Sometimes she embraced a calm and settled life, but there were days when she longed for some excitement, and for something, anything to happen.

It was a hot day. The hottest on record and London slowly baked under the blazing mid-August sun. Even the usually cool alleyways of the wizarding parts of the city were not immune to the soaring temperatures. Sunbeams cut through the streets like lasers, forcing witches and wizards to scramble for shade and shelter. The wisest had forsaken work and sought sanctuary in the Leaky Cauldron and were enjoying cooling glasses of butterbeer. The most sensible Muggles had done very much the same and the streets were virtually deserted.

Hermione had arrived at the Ministry, undeterred by the weather, and found it unusually quiet. The usually bustling corridors were devoid of life. It seemed even the machine of governance was not immune to the disruption of a heatwave. She was grateful for its cool darkness and made her way to the department. Entering the office, huffing and muttering about the temperature, she discovered the usually jovial Ernest crumpled in the corner, his face turning from crimson to purple as he clutched at his throat and fought for air.

"Mr. Tuttlewitt!"

He gasped and choked, unable to form words, his eyes starting to bulge at the lack of oxygen. His arm flapped and she hoped he was trying to point to something useful. She looked around. His office was organised chaos. There were piles of books and objects heaped on every available surface, some obviously magical, others seemingly innocuous. It was useless.

"What happened? Can you tell me?"

He managed no more than a gargled sound. Panic set in.

"Think, think," she said to herself, desperately scanning the cluttered room for a clue. There was nothing. In a room littered with dark magical objects it could be anything.

Uncertain of what else to do she loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt, trying to help him breathe. It made no difference. Crouching down beside him, she managing to help him to sit up and offered comfort. Awkwardly she tried to peer into his mouth. His airway seemed clear and there was nothing obvious preventing him from breathing. Hermione concluded it must be magical in nature.

"Please, Mr. Tuttlewitt, please try to breathe while I work this out."

She acted out deep puffing breaths, instantly reminding of herself of a midwife giving advice to a mother-to-be, mid-labour. She felt both ridiculous and useless. Hermione considered running for help, but she was reluctant to leave the casualty unattended.

"Help, help."

There was no response. The Ministry corridors remained virtually empty, most of its staff put off by the searing heat outside had taken leave for the day.

"Please, anybody. Help!"

Her desperate wail was met with silence. Mr. Tuttlewitt wheezed desperately, beginning to turn blue.

Suddenly, a voice rang out from behind her.

"Missio."

It was icy cold, harsh and sneering. The spell bellowed out from the doorway. It seemed to come from nowhere. Whoever it was had said the right thing at the right moment and she watched as the oxygen flooded Ernest's lungs and his colouring instantly began to return to his regular shade of whiteish grey.

Initially startled by the voice, now Hermione breathed out almost as deeply in relief as her suffocating head of department had done. Her attention turned to the good Samaritan at the door. That voice seemed distantly familiar. Her head snapped around, her wide, grateful smile curling rapidly into a disgruntled frown. An imposing figure filled the door, dressed head to toe in black, his wand still drawn from his cane, pointing directly at her, blond hair tumbling over his shoulder, his lips twisted into a scornful grimace. She looked up at him, her mouth falling open in shock as the last person she had expected to see in the doorway of her place of work stared back hard at her.

"Lucius Malfoy."

"The very same."

"Mr. Malfoy," Ernest rasped, now scrambling to his feet and offering a trembling hand to the visitor. "I am indebted to you. Thank the Gods you turned up when you did. I thought I was a goner."

Hermione looked at Lucius accusingly.

Malfoy huffed and rolled his eyes, sliding his wand back into the cane theatrically and reluctantly shaking the fingertips of Mr. Tuttlewitt's now sweaty hand with a look of horror and disdain.

"This is Hermione Granger, my assistant." Tuttlewitt said, his eyes flitting between Hermione and Lucius nervously, his voice still a hoarse croak.

"I am already… acquainted… with Miss Granger."

"Did you do this, Malfoy?" she spat at him.

"Yes, of course. I came here with the nefarious intention of murdering your superior, Mr. Tuttlewitt; I had a sudden attack of guilt, stepped in and single-handedly saved the man's life, a feat you seemed unable to accomplish without my intervention."

He grinned smugly.

Hermione sucked on her cheeks and felt her fist clenching with barely contained rage at his demeanour, still as snooty and arrogant as ever, despite everything he had done.

"Then what happened?"

"A simple constriction hex, I believe it emanated from that…thing."

He pointed at the sausage-shaped, stuffed tube of fabric on the floor.

"The draft excluder?"

"So, it seems. Whatever…that is."

"It's a Muggle device, designed to stop cold air getting in under doors. It's the heat you see, draws these things out, wakes them up, as it were. I must remember to deal with that properly. Missio will get shot of it for now, but without a sealing charm it'll be back at it in no time." Ernest seemed pleased he could at least offer some knowledge on the subject and dusted himself down, tugging and straightening his dreadful jumper and smoothing down the wayward wisps of hair that had fallen over his face during the drama.

Lucius raised an eyebrow and casually kicked the offending article away.

"Evidently nothing to do with me, Miss Granger."

"It's hardly unreasonable of me to be suspicious of you."

"No, perhaps not and it is not unreasonable of me to have expected one of the brightest witches of her age to be able to identify and disarm something so simple and yet we find ourselves here."

Lucius smirked. Hermione gritted her teeth. Ernest Tuttlewitt still looked a little dazed and shell shocked. He rubbed at his neck. The invisible assailant had left behind deep red marks as if a boa constrictor had been coiled there. There was an awkward silence. Ernest grew dizzy, his initial burst of energy from the influx of oxygen rapidly beginning to fade.

"I must sit down, if you don't mind. I'm still a little lightheaded."

"Of course, you must." Hermione pulled out his chair and cleared it of books and unfinished paperwork, ushering him into his seat. "Let me get you some water." She watched Malfoy closely as she poured it, her eyes fixed on his, daring him to do or say anything out of line. He returned her gaze, unmoved and looking almost bemused that he had riled her so easily.

Ernest sipped his water, still shaken by his ordeal. "Thanks ever so much for coming, Mr. Malfoy and the hero of the hour, I honestly can't thank you enough."

"Not at all, I only did what any wizard, or indeed witch, would have done faced with the same situation. It was merely a flick of my wand and single word."

He shot a glance at Hermione and she scowled back at his condescending tone. Lucius was enjoying seeming her squirm and seizing the opportunity to gloat.

"So, what are you doing here, Malfoy? It still seems convenient, you just turning up like that, just at the very moment the head of a Ministry department collapses to the ground as a result of dark magic. I've been here for months without a single mishap. Funny that, isn't it? Do you often just wander into the Ministry unannounced?"

"As someone more astute may have gathered, I am here at the invitation of your supervisor, Mr Tuttlewitt. As it happens, I have assisted him with more challenging and the very darkest of objects in recent years."

"That makes perfect sense. Takes one to know one. I find it hard to believe they even let Death Eaters cross the threshold. I hope they keep you well away from other departments, though I seem to remember you know your way around some of them already. Prophecies, for example."

"Former Death Eater. If you don't mind. I should remind you I am a fully reformed and rehabilitated man."

"Leopard. Spots."

Hermione snorted and folded her arms across her chest defensively.

"Now, now," Mr. Tuttlewitt intervened. "Let's leave the past where it belongs. And in all fairness, Mr. Malfoy has been a great help to me with some difficult matters. Do you have any news, on the…the thing…we spoke about?"

"What thing? And you never mentioned him before or a thing." Hermione's ears pricked up. She had no idea Malfoy had any dealings with the Ministry at all, let alone with potentially dangerous objects.

"Well, I…well you see. It was thought best…we did think about saying something, but with your pasts and all, well…"

"We? You talked about me, behind my back, to him?"

"No. Well I suppose so. I mean I just wanted to do what was best for you. I thought you might get upset and well…um…it's done now, but with the best intentions." Ernest was wringing his hands and keeping his eyes fixed on them.

Lucius huffed impatiently.

"It was decided that your obvious prejudices would be counterproductive, Miss Granger, and since you are only a mere assistant, it was not necessary for you to be privy to the details of my involvement."

Fury rose within her.

"My prejudices. How dare you? How bloody dare you? My prejudices? Coming from you."

If her accusation had an any impact on him, he didn't show it. He still smiled wickedly.

"As you can see, Tuttlewitt, my reservations about Miss Granger are confirmed."

She opened her mouth to speak again. Lucius turned his attention to Ernest.

"Shall we get on with dealing with the matter in hand, this is an unnecessary diversion, though I worry I may not be able to speak as freely as I would like."

Hermione seethed silently.

"Please, go on Mr. Malfoy. I think the cat is definitely out of the bag."

"The object we discussed has been located. It is buried beyond the city in a woodland area. My sources tell me it has been concealed there for some time and while it is, to be best of my knowledge, undisturbed I understand it is not a great distance from Muggle dwellings. I fear in the hands of the untrained and uneducated the device has the capacity to cause a good deal of harm to them and others."

His nose wrinkled at the very mention of the word Muggle. Hermione continued to observe him as he spoke, noting him choosing his words carefully and repressing the urge to launch into an angry tirade about how she was certain he couldn't give two hoots about harm coming to anyone beyond his narrow definition of the right sort of wizard. Suspicion and dislike rose within her and formed a tight knot in her stomach. She had felt that before, but in very different circumstances and associated it with a very different set of feelings. Hermione repressed it and focused her attention on poor Ernest, though she had underestimated him and his ability to keep this from her had come as a surprise. He looked worried. He never looked worried, even when he was theatrically overplaying the danger of possessed coat stands and hexed wardrobes, he never looked concerned enough to convince her there was any serious peril involved. It occurred to her that there must be far darker items in circulation and that he must have dealt with them. Ernest must have done those things on his own. Outrage at being side-lined gave way to an overwhelming sense that in his own way he was being noble and protecting a young witch charged to his care. It was a sweet gesture, if a little old fashioned and entirely unnecessary.

"We should go and collect it immediately. Waste no time. The longer it remains there, the greater the danger. I need to get that thing out of commission."

There was a steely determination to Ernest Tuttlewitt, Hermione had never seen before. She looked at him, still weakened, beads of sweat standing on his brow. Occasionally he would reach to his neck. Dark, purple bruises had begun to develop. The intolerable heat had done little to aid his recovery and it had now seeped into the usually shielded walls of the Ministry. He was in no fit state to do anything, let alone head out and search the woods in the blistering sunshine.

"You're not up to it. Not after this morning. I'll go," Hermione insisted.

Ernest looked dubious.

"Please. Let me. You should rest. In fact, you shouldn't even be here, go home and rest properly."

"It's not something to be trifled with. It must be handled correctly. An experienced hand is needed. I think I should be the one to go."

"Voldemort's Horcruxes experienced enough for you?"

Ernest sighed. He knew Hermione had probably encountered far more true dangers in her far fewer years than he ever had. He also knew she was probably stronger and braver than he could ever hope to be, yet as the more senior and time-served manager he felt it was his duty. Not only that, Ernest Tuttlewitt was a father. He imagined throwing his own child into the path of malevolent forces and shuddered at the idea.

"I'm not sure you are ready to go it alone, perhaps in a few months."

"It's always in a few months. I am ready. More than ready. You know I am."

He still looked uncertain, if a little torn. It was Lucius, who had silently observed the exchange with great amusement who cast the deciding vote.

"Please, let the girl try. If it is comforting to you, I am more than willing to accompany her and assist in recovering the device."

"I don't think so…"

"Hear him out," Ernest waved his hand to quiet her. "I think that's a wonderful solution. Very good of you, Mr. Malfoy. I would appreciate it. Much as I would like to soldier on, I'm probably not up to the task and it can't wait."

"You want me to go with him?"

"Yes, Hermione. He is well versed in the Dark Arts and an accomplished wizard. I would rest easier knowing you are not alone."

"Oh, he's accomplished in the Dark Arts. That evil snake probably wants it for himself. I am not going anywhere with him. I'd be far safer doing this by myself."

Lucius repressed an evil chuckle.

"Perhaps, I should wait outside while you discuss the matter and deal with insubordination within your department. I wouldn't wish to be the cause of distress, or indeed further your embarrassment. It is unclear to me who runs this department. And, Miss Granger, your prejudices appear to extend to our reptilian friends. How disappointing."

Lucius tutted and Hermione thought her head might explode.

"I run this department. Absolutely. Hermione, I insist you do not undertake this alone. One of us will be accompanying you. I will let you choose."

She glanced between them. Ernest looked ill and weak. Guilt stabbed at her heart. Lucius waited with icy determination. There was no choice to make.

"Fine. Come on then Malfoy, let's get this over and done with as quickly as possible."

"The correct choice under the circumstances." Lucius looked self-satisfied and rather pleased with himself. "Shall, we? I fear we have wasted enough time already debating the practicalities of the task."

She bit her tongue. It was pointless trying to argue or reason with him. The less she said and the sooner it was over the better. Malfoy had already stormed out into the hallway.

"Hermione," Ernest said gripping her hand. "Stay safe, for me, please. I'd never forgive myself if…if"

"I'll be fine. Promise. Trust me."

She squeezed his hand and headed for the door, stopping once more.

"Mr. Tuttlewitt."

"Yes, my dear."

"Go home."

He nodded back at her and wondered how such a wise head sat upon such young shoulders.

"Come along, girl," Lucius barked from the corridor.

Hermione inhaled deeply and shook her head. Today was going to be a severe test of her patience.

Lucius had not paused and was already halfway down the hallway. Hermione upped her speed to catch up to him. He gave her a fleeting sideways glance and continued at the same pace.

"I hope you aren't planning on trying anything. Don't think I'm fooled by you turning over a new leaf. I'll be watching your every move."

His eyes remained fixed ahead.

A loudspeaker crackled into life before he could answer. A monotone voice announced made its announcement.

"Due to atmospheric conditions, please be aware that the flue network is currently down. Please also note that due to the extreme temperatures, all Ministry employees are required to refrain from apparating and disapparating as your safety cannot be guaranteed. The Ministry will take no responsibility for any accidents, mishaps or untimely deaths as a result of unsanctioned travel during this time. Thank you for your co-operation."

Three increasingly higher pitched bongs signalled the end of the message.

Hermione let out a groan.

"What are we going to do? We can't not travel. Maybe I can ask for some dispensation. It is an emergency."

"Since I am not a Ministry employee, no such limitations apply. Perhaps I may have to complete the task alone."

"Absolutely not! There is no way you are going without me. I'll go straight to the top if I have to."

"Hmm abusing your connections, I'm certain you would be the first to criticise me if I had suggested such a thing. I imagined you would be opposed to nepotism."

"Fine, I'll go through the proper channels, then."

"Ah, the bureaucratic red tape could take days for your enquiry even to be acknowledged."

She sighed. It pained her to concede he was probably right.

"Whatever will you do? Will the saintly Hermione Granger resort to rule breaking? How exciting."

Lucius was revelling in the bind she found herself in.

"We'll have to fly."

Lucius balked at the suggestion.

"Take a broom? With clear skies above the most populous Muggle city in the country in the middle of the day? We are most certain to be seen. I have no idea how you explain that to your superiors once our images are splashed across the front pages of their newspapers. Besides, I haven't ridden a broom since I was a boy."

Hermione tried and failed to repress laughter at the thought of Lucius flapping and clinging on for dear life.

"Is something amusing you?"

"No, I just struggle to imagine you were ever a boy. That's all."

He looked irritated. She felt a surge of glee.

"Well," he said impatiently. "What do you intend to do?"

"Why is it all down to me? You're hardly full of suggestions. Are you being difficult for the sake of it?"

"Not at all, quite the contrary. Since I am still able to apparate at will, the difficulty is all yours. Finding a solution to your own predicament seems appropriate."

"Fine," she snapped. "We have one alternative left."

The was loathed to mention it. She had no choice.

"I have a car."

"A car? You expect me to travel in a Muggle vehicle, operated by you?"

"You told me to find a solution. I did."

Hermione started off down the corridor.

"Are you coming or not?" she barked back at him without turning her head.

Indignant and displeased, Lucius followed after her. The idea horrified him, yet Hermione Granger did not. He quietly admired her determination and spirit. Mudblood or otherwise, she was certainly bright and resourceful. He observed her moving down the corridor, now very much a young woman she was not displeasing to the eye. Lucius found himself studying the shape of her, he found her light on her feet and she moved with surprising grace. The ungainly, frizzy-haired little girl he had first encountered in Diagon Alley no longer existed. Lucius banished such thoughts from his mind and consoled himself with the idea that travelling across London and out into the countryside in one of those horrendous metal contraptions, progressing slowly along Muggle roads, out amongst them, would be enough to crush any feelings of warmth very quickly indeed.

Thanks for reading!

If you liked this, you might like my other Lumione fic Unsuitable Employment.

I would love to hear your thoughts on the first chapter. This could be a naughty short (about 3 chapters) but I also have an idea for a bit more (and possibly a body swap fic. What do you guys think? All reviews are welcomed and adored!

Vin x