It was growing damn near unbearable.

Everywhere he turned, Michael saw her. She was flouncing past his office in a short skirt, or giggling with the freckly undersecretary from the Transportation department, or eating lunch with a host of handsome young men surrounding her. She would wink at him, and he'd feel the urge to kiss her, right on the spot. If she even so much as spoke to him, he couldn't seem to keep the growl out of his voice when he responded. He felt as though his instincts were completely aflame, and being entirely repressed. As a boy at Hogwarts, he'd experienced something like this when professors were nearby, but he was a grown man now, and the feelings were intensified. It didn't help that he felt the entire situation a terrible injustice; grown adults were not supposed to suffer like this. Relationships were not supposed to be clandestine. When he left the office and saw a pretty blonde girl, fresh from Hogwarts and now working for the Ministry, kiss her boyfriend on the street, he was furious. The secrecy, born out of the need for propriety, was killing him.



It was Michael's lunch break, and he'd just seen Su come back from hers, dressed in a tartan skirt that did wonders for her legs, and a blouse that was low-cut and flattering. She'd waved at him through his open office door, but then gone on straight to her desk and back to work. He could hardly go disturb her; she'd just had off and was probably busy. Michael forced himself to leave, taking the stairs instead of the lift, so he could try and clear his head. He wandered across each level, not meeting anybody's eye as he frowned at the floor, his mind racing.

"Michael?"

He looked up. Somehow, he'd ended up standing in front of Cormac's office. He hadn't even realized how quickly he'd taken the stairs, or paced across every Ministry corridor. Caught in the act of complete instability, Michael reddened, and loosened his tie.

"Hullo, there," he said. His voice sounded like a frog's croak. Cormac was going to be suspicious at once.

Just then Hildi came rushing in. "Mr. McLaggen, I'm so sorry. I tried to stop him, but it was like he didn't even hear me," she said.

Grinning, Cormac answered, "It's all right, Hildi. Mr. Corner's welcome anytime."

Hildi left the office, closing the door behind her.

Immediately walking to his side table, Cormac pulled out his crystal decanter of Brandy and poured two glasses. He waved Michael into a seat and set a glass in front of him. He settled himself in his own chair and said, "Speak."

Michael took the proffered glass at once, and took a large swallow, with a slight grimace. His eyes watered, and he took a moment to blink before he looked across the desk at Cormac, who was peering at him carefully.

"I can't do it mate," said Michael hoarsely. "She's everywhere."

He took another swallow, and spilled some of his drink; he wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. Shaking his head, Michael could only open his mouth, but not form the words. Finally, he managed to add, "It's driving me mad."

"She's everywhere? Su? She is?" His face had gone from confused to concerned to amused. "You shagged her. Didn't you?"

Michael dropped his head into his hands, and ran his fingers through his hair. The pressure on his scalp felt wonderful; every part of his body was tense.

"Yes. On the sofa in my flat. While she was still wearing this sexy little plaid skirt. On Wednesday night of last week. After discussing how we were going to keep our relationship at the office 'professional.' And then waking up together the next morning on the sofa, and having to head to work separately." Michael groaned, and kept his eyes on the floor.

Cormac smirked. A short plaid skirt and nothing else. I could tolerate that. "Plaid skirt, really?"

Michael's head jerked up.

"Ahem. Sorry. But really, how was she?"

"Amazing," Michael replied, matter-of-factly. Then his face drooped. "But since then I can't get her off the brain. And Cormac, mate, she's everywhere. Flirting with stupid Gibbons from the Transportation department, and shimmying around in these tight little blouses, and I feel like I'm going to go mad. All I want to do is grab her, and I can't. I swore it'd be strictly professional here at the office."

Eyes wide, it took Cormac a moment to come back to his senses. "Okay, mate. First, why'd you swear to such a barmy thing?" He shook his head. "Maybe if you shagged her good while at work it would fix the problem?"

Michael rolled his eyes. "I swore to it because that's what decent men do," he replied. "And because I wanted very badly to get laid that night, and I knew that meant promising to keep my hands to myself when within ten feet of Ministry headquarters." He shuddered slightly at Cormac's second statement. "Don't put thoughts like that into my head. I won't be able to help myself, I swear."

"That's your problem. Stop swearing. Stop being so damned honorable. Shag her silly or get over it. And that's where my expertise ends," he said. He took a long drink and set the glass down, watching Michael.

"And you're supposed to be the Gryffindor," Michael retorted. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Cormac, you can't even begin to imagine how good the sex was. Or how amazingly gorgeous this woman is without clothes. Or what a miracle it is that she's willing to put up with me. We went Halloween costume shopping this weekend--oh, don't roll your eyes at me! The point is, I don't want to fuck this up. And if I make a pass at her at work, that's what I'll be doing. But if I keep on like this..." He trailed off ominously, aware of his melodramatic tone but feeling incapable of any other sentiment at the moment.

"I was a Gryffindor, wasn't I? Still trying to figure that one out." He paused. "Wait a second. You just said you went Halloween costume shopping in the same breath you describe her naked form?" He shook his head and smirked. "You're whipped. Beyond whipped. You've been chained, mate."

Michael groaned loudly, and reached for Cormac's glass of brandy, which he finished in one gulp. "I know. I know!" He massaged his temples and scowled. "I like taking care of women. I like doting on them, and catering to them, and giving them pleasure, and being a gentleman." He'd almost forgotten Cormac was there as he spoke, rattling away mechanically. "But there must be some fine line. I don't want to be chained, for Merlin's sake! If I ever turn into some woman's plaything, Cormac, put me out of my misery, would you?"

Cormac laughed. "I'll try to let you know before you become ensnared, how about that?"

"If it hasn't already happened," Michael muttered, and he shook his head from side to side.



{Summary: Michael vents about his sexual frustration, and Cormac thanks his lucky stars he's not in Michael's place. }