If there was one thing Michael disliked most about working in the Ministry, it was the noise. There was constant busyness everywhere, which resulted in a painful bustling drone that seemed to permeate the entire building, like a hive full of buzzing worker bees. Sometimes, Michael just needed silence. He sat at his desk and listened to the tittering secretaries, the grumbling of the old-timers who never seemed to leave the break room, the banging of doors and the clicking of heels and, the worst, the lilting sound of the woman's voice in the lift, and felt like screaming.

Michael, it might be noted, was not particularly fond of people.



After three months at the Ministry, however, he finally found a reprieve. On the eighth floor was the Atrium. The main corridor was the designated entry and exit area for those Flooing in by fireplace, and in the center of it all was of course the great golden statue of Harry Potter and his closest friends, who, as the saviors of the wizarding world had replaced the statue of the "magical brethren," but just to the left of the security stand was a door, and beyond the door was what Michael considered the true Atrium. There was a smaller, simpler gurgling fountain, a ceiling full of skylights, comfortable benches, and some potted plants. It was a peaceful place, and had apparently been magically sealed so the hustle and bustle of the main Atrium did not intrude. Michael liked to take the Prophet, and the International Daily Report, up there, to think quietly. Sometimes he stayed long enough to do both crosswords. Sometimes he merely watched the fountain.

As the months passed, he realized he'd been spending an awful lot of time with another man who worked at the Ministry, and also appeared to find solace in the Atrium. He'd looked vaguely familiar to Michael, and when he'd finally introduced himself as Cormac McLaggen, Michael remembered why. He'd been a year ahead of him at Hogwarts, and in Gryffindor. He had a reputation for being slick and arrogant, and proud of his rather illustrious family. He was handsome, and had a reputation for being something of a playboy.

But Michael found he actually got along surprisingly well with Cormac, and meeting him in the Atrium had become something of a tradition over time. This morning, as he wandered into the small, peaceful room, he smiled to see that Cormac was already there, seated on a bench with his belongings neatly stacked beside him, apparently engrossed in whatever he was reading.

Looking up from his book, Cormac smiled and waved him over in greeting. He was relieved to see Michael there. An annoying witch had been trying to chat him up and it was all he could do to not hex her to stop the incessant chatter. "Hey," he said, setting his book down, his voice full of relief. "How have you been? Has your morning been as loud as mine?" He rolled his eyes towards the witch sitting on his right.

Michael glanced at her, and wrinkled his nose. A girl like that should realize she had no chance with Cormac McLaggen, he thought--a cruel thought, but nonetheless, a true one. He settled onto other end of the bench, placing himself firmly between the annoying witch and Cormac, and returned the greeting.

"I've been all right. Had a bit of an...interesting encounter with a co-worker the other day," Michael admitted. There was something about Cormac's easy manner and casual smile that made it almost impossible not to confide in him. "And this morning was as hectic as ever. Some high-priority medical file from India arrived yesterday morning, and apparently today I am to make it my business to get it over to St. Mungo's, in English, by noon." Michael checked his watch, and grinned broadly. "As you can see, I am well on my way!" he laughed, opening the Prophet to the crossword page, and whipping out an Erasable Quill.

"How's your day been so far, aside from the occasional, er, admirer throwing herself at you?" Michael asked, not really bothering to keep his voice down. He could practically feel the witch stiffen behind him, but didn't much care. "For that matter, how's your week been? I haven't seen you in a bit."

"My morning has been long, my week's been longer. I've been to more meetings than should be legal, and managed to, at long last, clear a space on my desk-I can almost see down to the wood. It's not much, but it's progress." He grinned. "I really could've used an empty spot on my desk yesterday afternoon." He shook his head as if forcing himself to clear his mind of something he rather wanted to relive. "I'd actually like to hear about your 'interesting encounter' the other day, though. It wouldn't have involved a ravishing beauty name Su, would it?" Cormac waggled an eyebrow.

Michael rolled his eyes. Cormac had apparently a lot of trouble with the concept of a female friend; apparently he had only one, a Gryffindor named Katie Bell who had been in his year back at Hogwarts. However, the majority of women were merely playthings for Cormac--his comment about needing more desk space was most likely a lewd allusion to a not-uncommon sexual encounter in his office--and so he tended to have difficulty understanding why Michael was, in fact, something of a loner, and not all that skilled, when it came to women--and that, furthermore, Su Li was only a friend.

Until Tuesday, that is. Apparently, Tuesday had changed things.

"I don't know how you figure these things out," Michael said, loosening his tie a little, and smiling with embarrassment, "but yes. It would." His thoughts flickered briefly to the sharp sensation of staggering backwards into Su's office door, and the warm rush of heat that had flooded his body--something like a mixture of both deep desire and utter confusion. Unbeknownst to him, the replaying of these thoughts brought something akin to a blush to his pale cheeks, and his eyes brightened noticeably.

"Ah, mate." Cormac clapped Michael on the back and grinned. "It really was only a matter of time." From what he knew of Michael, he understood him to be somewhat conservative where the ladies were concerned. He knew Michael liked the ladies, he didn't doubt that, he just wondered at times where his priorities were.

"Am I correct in assuming it was Su who made the first move?" Cormac asked. He couldn't imagine it any other way. "Er-was there a move, right? Please, tell me there was a move."

Silence.

"My encounters with women are hardly the equivalents of yours," Michael began, after having turned decidedly red. "We flirted. She, er, made an unusually brazen remark about kissing me. And I..." He groaned, feeling incredibly juvenile. "I fled."

It was Cormac's turn to groan. "When you say 'I fled', what exactly do you mean? Tell me you didn't run away." He wracked his brain for any alternate meanings of the word fled. "Dear Merlin, you ran, didn't you?"

"But you have to understand," Michael added hurriedly. "We've been friends for something like twelve or thirteen years. Nothing but. Never even the inkling of a crush. I certainly never fancied her. She never fancied me--I think." He paused at that one, thought about it, and then shook his head decisively. "And now we've worked together for quite some time, as only friends, just friends. So this...thing...whatever it was...was very sudden. Very unsettling." Michael ruffled his hair with a nervous hand, and grinned slightly. "To be perfectly honest, I didn't know what to do. Can you blame me for getting out of there as soon as I could?"

"No, I guess I can't. Of course, I would have handled the situation a tad...differently." Cormac looked at Michael. "What are you going to do now?" he asked.

"I haven't got a clue," Michael admitted. "I've been avoiding her like mad, and I get the impression she might be avoiding me. I'd hate for this to spoil things...I suppose I'll owl her sometime later today?"

He sounded fairly uncertain, but it was also clear he didn't want to talk about it anymore. Discussing his now-bizarre relationship with Su was certainly not on Michael's list of favorite things to do. Instead, he pulled out the gossip section of the Prophet, raised a rakish eyebrow, and tapped it smartly.

"But apparently I'm not the only one," he said with a laugh, pointing at the headline--New Chaser Seeks Fame And Fortune! "I couldn't help but read it, what with that handsome picture of you smiling at me from the page. Is it true you took Alicia Spinnet out for--how did they put it? A night of 'drunken delight and sexual adventures?' Is she the girl who made herself cozy on your desk yesterday?" Michael gave Cormac a lewd wink.

"Drunken delight and sexual adventures, my arse. She kicked me out after a goodnight kiss, practically...and last night she had me over for biscuits and yoga, tempted me by bending into all sorts of inviting shapes, and then told me she was sleepy." Cormac sighed. "Now tell me, are you sure you shouldn't have been an Auror with your interrogation skills?"

Michael looked at Cormac, puzzled. Since when did any of Cormac's attempts at conquest fail?

"Don't change the subject," he joked, laughing a little, still slightly in disbelief. "I'd make the worst bloody Auror in the world." He paused, and furrowed his brow. "You are pulling my leg, right?" he asked. "Did Alicia Spinnet really turn you down?"

"She said to had to get up early the next morning to go teach yoga to a bunch of sprogs. And then when I asked her why she was crawling all over me if she wanted me to go, she got all-" Cormac adopted a falsetto voice, "'I want you to respect me'. So of course then I had to do the 'Of course I respect you, love' routine. Really, quite tiring."

Michael nodded. Even in his limited experience with women, he, too, had had to pull that age-old routine. Cho, in particular, had been very concerned about Michael respecting her. And it wasn't that he hadn't. She had been older than he was, and she'd been smart, and athletic, and beautiful. It was just that Michael hadn't been able to understand why respecting her did not align with putting his hands up her shirt. And perhaps, if she was feeling generous, up her skirt. But apparently, sex and respect did not combine very well.

Sex. Michael suddenly remembered something.

"So wait--" Michael looked at Cormac slightly askance, as he put two and two together. "If Alicia wasn't the girl you mentioned clearing your desk off for--then who was?" He grinned at that, shaking his head slightly at Cormac's promiscuity. That man had more fun than anyone else Michael knew, whether or not Alicia Spinnet was too much of a prude to do anything with him.

"Ah, yes, about that, interrogator extraordinaire, I knew you'd put that together," Cormac said and shrugged. "The desk clearing happened with Pansy. Parkinson." He looked at Michael to gauge his reaction.

Pansy Parkinson. Michael pressed his lips together and nodded, in an evaluative way. He'd seen her more than once in Diagon Alley over the past few years, and, come to think of it, he'd seen her at the Ministry yesterday--looking slightly flushed and more than a little annoyed. She was as good-looking now as she had been at Hogwarts, though still as haughty-looking as ever, too.

"Well done, mate," was finally all Michael could think of to say, and a broad grin swept across his face. He leaned back against the bench, and, against his better judgement, had to ask--"How was she?"

Cormac dropped his head into his hands and groaned. "Wish I knew. If you can believe that. She had just taken off my shirt when I got attacked by an inter-departmental memo. It actually drew blood, the damn thing. I had to rush off to a meeting, and as you can imagine, Pansy was not at all amused."

"Ouch." Michael winced, and patted his friend's back sympathetically. Sounds like Cormac had been almost as unlucky as Michael this particular week--which he was sure meant Cormac would make up for it on the weekend. Michael, on the other hand, was bound to spend his weekend translating and interpreting, even on his off hours, and daydreaming about Su...

Realizing that they'd been chatting in the Atrium for much longer than usual--the witch to his right had left at least a half hour ago--Michael glanced at his watch, and his eyes popped open.

"Merlin's beard, I've got less than an hour to get that medical treatise over to St. Mungo's!" Michael gasped. He swore loudly, and then grinned at Cormac apologetically, standing and gathering his things. "I've got to run, mate, but hey, don't look so down. I'm sure you'll spend the weekend holed up with some more than accommodating bird--maybe Alicia will give you another shot, yeah?"

As he headed for the door, Michael paused, and called over his shoulder, "And if you're doing anything particularly amusing this weekend, shoot me an owl, will you? Goodness knows I've never got anything to do!"

Cormac grinned. He really needed to get Michael laid, the sooner the better. "Sounds good. And a word of advice: Find Su." He winked and began gathering up his things.


{Summary: Michael and Cormac have guy talk in the Ministry's Atrium.}