Wednesday was the day that Draco hated most of all. It meant pointless meetings that he would have to sit through with the other Heads of Departments with no promise of a break or even a snack. Wednesday was the day created by Hell itself, placed strategically in the middle of the week, with two miserable days to follow until the weekend. Draco wasn't even a Head - he was an assistant. Although, that also meant that he was next in line, so soon enough, these meetings might actually mean something to him. However, now was too soon, so for now, it was best to just drift off during meetings.
On this particular Wednesday, Draco felt particularly shackled in his meeting. He yearned to go outside, to sit in the sun instead of this artificial rain in the window. When the meeting was finally, finally over, he took off quickly, going to the lift to finish the rest of his duties so that he could quit for the rest of the day. As he waited for the lift to come, Draco drummed his fingers against his pockets impatiently. When it finally showed, the first thing he noticed was exactly who was on the lift. Ron Weasley meant nothing to him - he didn't even deserve a mere glimpse - but Hermione Granger saved him from a permanent suite in Azkaban. He didn't have to like her, but he most certainly owed it to her to be cordial.
Looking between the two, Draco knew that it was awkward between Weasley and Granger. Smirking, he realized that distracting Granger from that awful redhead may have been a good thing at the moment. "Granger," he greeted pleasantly, stepping onto the lift, between the two of them.
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