Reviews: 4 | Table of Contents | - Text Size +
Draco Malfoy leaned back into his chair, an expensive mahogany antique with dark green velvet padding and silver trimmings that had been there for generations. The desk it was placed behind was equally impressive, complemented by the ornate lamp and fine quills. Solid gold paperweights scattered on its polished surface screamed wealth and prosperity. Unfortunately, the papers pinned under them, did not. In fact, they did quite the opposite. Draco Malfoy ran a hand through his fine silky hair, biting his lip angrily, brow creased in a frown as his eyes scanned the page. Upon reading the document his face turned from unhealthy grey pallor, to rosy pink, to deepest crimson in such rapid succession that it would have shamed Vernon Dursley.
“HOPKINS!” he bellowed, kicking back his chair with an ear-splitting scraping noise. There was a sound of scurrying feet in the hallway followed by a slight creak as the door was inched open. A little man wearing a white pinstriped suit and a monocle peeked out from behind it. “WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!” hollered Draco again, glaring angrily at the new comer, “AND WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO HOPKINS!” he sputtered, looming ominously over his imposing desk. The little man let out something that resembled a terrified squeak, visibly shrinking into his ridiculously shiny shoes.
“M… Mr. Malfoy,” he stuttered, trying not to look at his livid boss, “Mr. Hopkins…left…h…he…he said that…” the little man gulped and glanced up at Draco, immediately regretting it at the infuriated expression on his face, “he…he said that…”
“What did Mr. Hopkins say, little man,” he whispered, with such intense menace that the unfortunate employee backed up into the door,
“He…well…suffices to say that we have called in a new accountant as Mr Hopkins will no longer be working for you,” he managed at last, cowering,
“Ah…Mr. Hopkins…left… did he?” whispered Draco, in a deceptively calm tone. The man nodded slightly, eyes glued to his boss. “Hmmm…” Draco scratched his chin thoughtfully, glancing back down at the paper on his desk. He looked back up at the little man, taking deep calming breaths, trying to suppress his anger. Admittedly, he hadn’t been trying that hard. “WHY THAT STINKING, FUCKED UP, UNGRATEFUL, SLEAZY, BASTARDLY, IGNORANT, USELESS, DICK-HEADED, MORONIC SON OF A-” The little man didn’t wait to hear the rest of the speech as he had already flung himself behind the reassuringly solid door, just as the afore-mentioned gold paperweight hit it with a resounding thunk.
Back in his office Draco Malfoy slumped back into his reassuringly expensive chair and grabbed a bottle of reassuringly expensive whiskey. Glaring angrily at the seemingly innocent paper he had received earlier that morning from the bank. He popped the cork on the reassuringly expensive bottle and poured a generous amount into a reassuringly expensive glass, knocking it back and flinching slightly as it hit is throat. He savoured the taste of wealth as he swilled it around in his mouth and swallowed it, memorizing every flavour, taking in the sight of all his possessions around him. He downed the rest of his glass and poured another, the amber liquid sloshing over the rim of the beaker. How had it come to this? he thought through a drunken haze.
He, Draco Malfoy, who had inherited all of the considerable Malfoy fortune, was completely and utterly, stony broke.
~*~
Ginny Weasley sat at her desk in the small office, chewing absently at her sandwich, and scanning over the sheet of figures before her, brushing the crumbs off the thin parchment. She had started work as an accountant at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, making sure her flamboyant brothers didn’t overspend on their more daring products, but had eventually joined an accounting company, hoping for better pay. She supposed it was slightly ironic that a Weasley of all people should become an accountant. She inked a few numbers at the bottom of the sheet and filed it away in one of the many cabinets cluttering up her office. A knock on the door made her swivel round in her chair. She gulped down the last few bites of her sandwich and absently flicked her wand at the door, which opened accordingly. Cait, a colleague and friend who worked in the neighbouring office, popped her head around the door, smiling brightly at her. Ginny smiled back,
“Hey Gin, you got a new customer. Boss wants you to sort him out. Apparently he’s ‘stony broke’. You got an appointment at half two. Here, take a Portkey,” she said, tossing a cloth-covered object at her. She caught it one handed,
“Thanks Cait,” she said, stowing the Portkey in a drawer. “Did he say who it was?”
“Nope, but I didn’t like the look on his face. He seemed to think it was really funny…” she grinned, waved goodbye, and carefully closed the door behind her. Ginny grimaced. She knew what the boss’s twisted sense of humour was like. Last time she’d seen the boss laugh was when Dave from third floor had given a dragon keeper with some questionable motives bad advice on investing in Ridgebacks and had Portkey’d back with his head on fire and a baby dragon attached to his calf by the teeth. She scowled slightly, swearing that if it was anything like that she would sue him senseless. She glanced at her watch, and realising it was already twenty-five past, she flipped open the draw and pulled out the cloth-covered object, easing the fabric off it to reveal the company’s standard pewter hoop Portkey. She stood up, carefully smoothing down her suit and pulling her smouldering red hair into a neat bun and fixing it with an elegant ivory clip. She checked her reflection in the mirror one last time before clasping the Portkey. She was hurled through the swirling twisting vortex and slammed unceremoniously into the floor. She wondered dazedly why the hell she bothered to smooth her suit in the first place. She stood up slowly, thankful for the carpet, which was luxuriously soft, and out of habit brushed the imaginary dust off her suit, and smoothed down her hair. She glanced around her, taking in her plush surroundings until her eyes finally fell on her customer.
Her jaw dropped.
“Malfoy! Stony broke?”
And she burst out laughing.
~*~
“HOPKINS!” he bellowed, kicking back his chair with an ear-splitting scraping noise. There was a sound of scurrying feet in the hallway followed by a slight creak as the door was inched open. A little man wearing a white pinstriped suit and a monocle peeked out from behind it. “WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!” hollered Draco again, glaring angrily at the new comer, “AND WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO HOPKINS!” he sputtered, looming ominously over his imposing desk. The little man let out something that resembled a terrified squeak, visibly shrinking into his ridiculously shiny shoes.
“M… Mr. Malfoy,” he stuttered, trying not to look at his livid boss, “Mr. Hopkins…left…h…he…he said that…” the little man gulped and glanced up at Draco, immediately regretting it at the infuriated expression on his face, “he…he said that…”
“What did Mr. Hopkins say, little man,” he whispered, with such intense menace that the unfortunate employee backed up into the door,
“He…well…suffices to say that we have called in a new accountant as Mr Hopkins will no longer be working for you,” he managed at last, cowering,
“Ah…Mr. Hopkins…left… did he?” whispered Draco, in a deceptively calm tone. The man nodded slightly, eyes glued to his boss. “Hmmm…” Draco scratched his chin thoughtfully, glancing back down at the paper on his desk. He looked back up at the little man, taking deep calming breaths, trying to suppress his anger. Admittedly, he hadn’t been trying that hard. “WHY THAT STINKING, FUCKED UP, UNGRATEFUL, SLEAZY, BASTARDLY, IGNORANT, USELESS, DICK-HEADED, MORONIC SON OF A-” The little man didn’t wait to hear the rest of the speech as he had already flung himself behind the reassuringly solid door, just as the afore-mentioned gold paperweight hit it with a resounding thunk.
Back in his office Draco Malfoy slumped back into his reassuringly expensive chair and grabbed a bottle of reassuringly expensive whiskey. Glaring angrily at the seemingly innocent paper he had received earlier that morning from the bank. He popped the cork on the reassuringly expensive bottle and poured a generous amount into a reassuringly expensive glass, knocking it back and flinching slightly as it hit is throat. He savoured the taste of wealth as he swilled it around in his mouth and swallowed it, memorizing every flavour, taking in the sight of all his possessions around him. He downed the rest of his glass and poured another, the amber liquid sloshing over the rim of the beaker. How had it come to this? he thought through a drunken haze.
He, Draco Malfoy, who had inherited all of the considerable Malfoy fortune, was completely and utterly, stony broke.
~*~
Ginny Weasley sat at her desk in the small office, chewing absently at her sandwich, and scanning over the sheet of figures before her, brushing the crumbs off the thin parchment. She had started work as an accountant at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, making sure her flamboyant brothers didn’t overspend on their more daring products, but had eventually joined an accounting company, hoping for better pay. She supposed it was slightly ironic that a Weasley of all people should become an accountant. She inked a few numbers at the bottom of the sheet and filed it away in one of the many cabinets cluttering up her office. A knock on the door made her swivel round in her chair. She gulped down the last few bites of her sandwich and absently flicked her wand at the door, which opened accordingly. Cait, a colleague and friend who worked in the neighbouring office, popped her head around the door, smiling brightly at her. Ginny smiled back,
“Hey Gin, you got a new customer. Boss wants you to sort him out. Apparently he’s ‘stony broke’. You got an appointment at half two. Here, take a Portkey,” she said, tossing a cloth-covered object at her. She caught it one handed,
“Thanks Cait,” she said, stowing the Portkey in a drawer. “Did he say who it was?”
“Nope, but I didn’t like the look on his face. He seemed to think it was really funny…” she grinned, waved goodbye, and carefully closed the door behind her. Ginny grimaced. She knew what the boss’s twisted sense of humour was like. Last time she’d seen the boss laugh was when Dave from third floor had given a dragon keeper with some questionable motives bad advice on investing in Ridgebacks and had Portkey’d back with his head on fire and a baby dragon attached to his calf by the teeth. She scowled slightly, swearing that if it was anything like that she would sue him senseless. She glanced at her watch, and realising it was already twenty-five past, she flipped open the draw and pulled out the cloth-covered object, easing the fabric off it to reveal the company’s standard pewter hoop Portkey. She stood up, carefully smoothing down her suit and pulling her smouldering red hair into a neat bun and fixing it with an elegant ivory clip. She checked her reflection in the mirror one last time before clasping the Portkey. She was hurled through the swirling twisting vortex and slammed unceremoniously into the floor. She wondered dazedly why the hell she bothered to smooth her suit in the first place. She stood up slowly, thankful for the carpet, which was luxuriously soft, and out of habit brushed the imaginary dust off her suit, and smoothed down her hair. She glanced around her, taking in her plush surroundings until her eyes finally fell on her customer.
Her jaw dropped.
“Malfoy! Stony broke?”
And she burst out laughing.
~*~
To Be Continued.
Jewels is the author of 1 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 6 members. Members who liked Accountants also liked 395 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 6 members. Members who liked Accountants also liked 395 other stories.
Leave a Review