(This takes place shortly after the Juniors join the Liar's Department)

"Why the fuck are we down here?" Draco asked, his nose wrinkling in dismay.

"To get a desk for our new associates," Harry said flatly, looking around the narrow, dimly lit hallway at the back of the Ministry's atrium.

Draco rolled his eyes, "Allow me to elucidate, why are we down here? This seems like a job Asbestos could have handled."

"Hermione said it would keep us busy. And then Asbestos flipped us off and took her break," Harry said. He pulled Draco to a stop in front of the supply closet labelled Furniture.

Harry thought he heard what sounded like a faint giggle coming from behind the door, "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Draco asked.

"Hear the- that noise-

Draco ignored him, "Allow me to further further elucidate-"

"Draco."

"-Why are we, down here?" Draco said.

"I already answered that, Draco," Harry said.

"I mean, our Juniors ought to be in charge of this sort of menial work," Draco pointed out.

Harry sighed, "Hermione is doing some sort of 'orientation' with them."

"We didn't have an orientation. I didn't have an orientation," Draco said.

"You were given this job especially to fail; what's your point?" Harry said, grabbing the doorknob and pulling it open with a slow and ominous creak.

"It doesn't seem fair, is all," Draco said.

Harry narrowed his eyes, "Do you want to go through an orientation presentation? It had a packet. Hermione made a packet."

"No. Obviously," Draco said. He waved his hand into the darkened room with annoyance, "I think the lighting charm is broken."

"Genius. Figure that out yourself?" Harry asked.

"Shut up," Draco said with a frown, "What I'm saying is, we didn't have any sort of instructions, and we did fine."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"We did!" Draco insisted. "I think learning on the job is rather essential for the Liar's Department."

"Is it now?" Harry said with flat sarcasm.

Which Draco apparently didn't pick up on, "Yes. It's the sort of job that requires innovation and quick thinking-"

"Bull-shitting."

Draco glared at him.

"Our job is being really fucking good at bull-shitting our way out of situations," Harry said.

Draco nodded emphatically, "Which is why we don't need an orientation."

"Or a packet."

"Or a packet," Draco agreed, "That might very well end up scaring the Juniors off all on its own."

Since Draco wasn't fishing out his wand to fix the lighting charm, Harry reluctantly pulled out his own, "You think so?" he asked sarcastically.

"I would assume one of the appeals of a job such as our is the lack of strict rules and protocols," Draco said.

"You making it up as you go along isn't what I would call a selling point," Harry said. "Lumos," he flicked the lighting charm up into the ceiling. The long, pseudo-florescent charms in the ceiling flickered ominously and went out again.

There was a whisper of noise in the brief moment of light, and then it was gone.

Harry frowned, "Unfortunately, The Liar's Department is a real department now. That means it has paperwork."

"Ew," Draco said, nose wrinkling.

"Ew? You don't even do the paperwork. You have Asbestos fill everything out," Harry said.

He cast a stronger Lumos Maxima at the ceiling. The lighting charm briefly glowed brighter than the sun, then gave a rather startling pop that made them both jump, and went out again.

"Brilliant charmwork," Draco said, "Flitwick would be proud."

"You fix it, then," Harry snapped.

There was another loud pop and fizzle from the ceiling. They both took a step back. The lights finally flickered on, casting a weak and yellowish pall over the room.

"There! I fixed it," Harry said.

Draco raised an eyebrow, "Is that what you call what just happened?"

"Shut up, and help me find a desk so we can get out of here," Harry said, stepping into the room.

"Just grab something," Draco said, staying right where he was.

Harry looked around at the stacks of chairs and desks reaching up to the ceiling, "Most of these are in bad shape. We have to find one that can still hold enough magic to be repaired or transfigured."

"What is it with magical institutions holding on to fucking everything? This is garbage. It should have been vanished ages ago," Draco said with disgust.

"New desks cost money," Harry said, prodding a desk leg with the end of his wand.

There was another faint whisper high-pitched and childlike. Harry shuddered, the hair standing up on the back of his neck.

"Well, the only reason the Ministry doesn't have money is currently in prison so-"

"Did you hear that?" Harry asked.

"-they ought to just buy some new ones," Draco went on.

"No, really, did you hear that just now?" Harry insisted.

"Hear what?" Draco said, annoyed.

"The creepy child whispers?" Harry asked.

"Don't be ridiculous," Draco scoffed.

The stacks of desks creaked and there was a whisper followed by a string of giggles from around the room.

Draco's eyes widened, "Ah. I see."

Harry quickly retreated back out into the hallway with Draco. "What the fuck?" he said under his breath.

Draco took out his wand and held it out, "Incind-"

Harry grabbed Draco's wrist and pushed his hand down before he could finish the enchantment.

"Hey!" Draco protested.

"We're in the Ministry," Harry said, "You can't fucking burn it down."

"I wasn't going to," Draco said indignantly. "Just this room."

Harry gave him a look.

"I would have put it out before it spread any further," Draco said.

Harry simply increased the incredulity of the look.

"Unlike some people, I did expectational charm-work in school," Draco said haughtily.

"Oh, fuck off," Harry said.

"come. come. here," the faint childlike voice whispered from inside.

"Do you have a better idea?" Draco asked.

"No-" Harry started reluctantly and then noticed a large manilla envelope stuck to the back of the door and pulled out the yellowing piece of parchment inside.

"What's that?" Draco asked, leaning over his shoulder.

"What to do when your furniture is lightly haunted," Harry read out loud. "Lightly haunted?" he repeated, "How can something be lightly haunted?"

"Well, when people of a magical sort use something for long enough, it can start to develop a sort of... sentience," Draco said.

"Like Hogwarts?" Harry said.

"Yes, or a number of any old wizarding homes," Draco said.

"I don't remember ever hearing Hogwarts talk," Harry said.

Draco hesitated and then admitted, "Talking is quite unusual. Early 'light haunting' usually begins with automatic repeated actions, a door opening before you that has been charmed open for decades, a fireplace igniting when you step into the room. That sort of thing. It takes a hundred years or so before the house becomes something- well clever is a strong word but for lack of a better one- clever."

"Why do you think a desk-"

"Or chair," Draco said.

"-or chair, would start talking then?" Harry asked.

"I assume it happened the same way it would with a more 'normal' light haunting," Draco said.

"Someone charmed their desk to talk so much it stuck," Harry said flatly.

"Seems as likely as anything," Draco said, "At least there's probably only one desk-

"or chair," Harry said.

"-that's haunted," Draco finished, ignoring him.

"That's lightly haunted," Harry said flatly. "And if we pick the wrong one?"

"time to work. papers. papers due. come," the high-pitched voice beckoned.

Harry and Draco both leaned away from the doorway.

"Merlin, that voice creeps me the hell out," Harry said.

"We cannot pick the wrong one. Keep reading," Draco said, tapping the paper.

"What to do in the case of light haunting in your work environment,'" Harry read.

"Sounds promising," Draco said.

"Shut up," Harry said and read on, "Has your work furniture begun talking?-"

"Yes."

"-moving?"

"I fucking hope not."

"-or showing other signs of sentience?" Harry read.

"Yes, obviously? Why else would someone be reading this," Draco said.

Harry rolled his eyes and continued, "If so, Ministry regulations recommend speaking with a friend, co-worker, superior or councillor. While new and sometimes unnerving, talking through a new situation can help to alleviate any anxieties you may be having."

Draco laughed.

Harry shook his head and read on, "If doing so does not relieve mental anxieties about the recent sentience of your furniture, try communicating to the object itself about how its actions are affecting you." Harry narrowed his eyes, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"It appears to be completely serious," Draco said.

"There are instructions on how to apply for mental health counselling-"

"You would think it would be far easier to just request a new desk. One that doesn't talk," Draco said.

"I think that would be a waste of Ministry resources," Harry said, skimming more of the document.

"And getting mental health counselling isn't?" Draco said.

"No, you have to schedule that on your own time," Harry said.

"What?"

Harry gave him a look, "You think I would've made it this long without some sort of counselling?"

"No, not that," Draco said impatiently, "They made you schedule counselling yourself, during your free time, while you were working as auror?"

"It was during my training years mostly," Harry said. "The training is actually longer hours because of the research papers and the studying, and spell-practise."

"...You're the saviour of the bloody-fucking wizarding world," Draco said.

"Yeah, well, you've still got to do the training, though," Harry said.

Draco sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I wasn't- That wasn't the point, Potter."

Harry turned the paper over to read the back, "Apparently, we can contact Wizarding Resources as the absolute last possible recourse, but it's not 'encouraged'."

"Bureaucracy is the worst thing mankind has ever invented," Draco said.

"I agree," Harry muttered. "...Oh..." he narrowed his eyes.

"What is it? Something useful?" Draco asked.

Harry silently shook his head and pointed to the bottom of the page. It had been signed by Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to Sir Salas Suirup, Wizengamont Member, Head of Office Supplies and Acquisition.

They both stared at it in silent horror.

"She must have worked for Fart-taster before becoming the senior undersecretary to Minister Fudge," Harry said faintly. "Birds of a feather flock together." 

"Carrion, I'd guess," Draco said.

Harry snorted faintly.

"use. write. hurry... hurry... deadlines coming," the faint voice called from inside, it's high pitched whine starting to sound more and more familiar. "...must meet deadlines...."

Harry shuddered.

"Merlin, I hate that woman," Draco said.

"You seemed pretty chummy at the time."

Draco frowned, "She hit you."

"Oh. And that was crossing the line, was it?" Harry said bitterly.

"Beyond." Draco said.

"And here I thought it was when she scarred my hand," Harry said.

"What?" Draco said in alarm.

Harry held up his hand, where the scarred line of 'I must not tell lies' was faded but still clearly visible.

"Umbridge did that?" Draco said, taking Harry's hand and brushing his thumb over the back of Harry's hand.

"I thought you knew. And that's why you never asked," Harry said.

"No. I didn't know."Draco said, looking distracted, "Your life is depressing. I prefer to learn about it slowly for the good of my own mental health."

Harry rolled his eyes, "You're such a dick."

"She used a blood quill?" Draco asked.

"I don't remember?" Harry said, "What are you-"

"They say it's impossible to break out of Azkaban; do you suppose the opposite is true?" Draco said.

"You're not breaking into Azkaban," Harry said.

"Of course not. I'm not mad," Draco looked offended. "Asbestos!"

"Draco."

"I know your break is over, Asbestos," Draco said.

A few more seconds passed before Asbestos appeared in the hallway with them.

"Draco-"

"What?" Asbestos said irritably.

"Could you get into Azkaban?" Draco asked.

"Yes?" Asbestos said as someone might say, Obviously.

"You're not having Asbestos break into Azkaban," Harry said sternly.

"Of course not," Draco said, putting an arm around Harry's shoulders, "Don't worry your pretty little head about it."

"I mean it," Harry said.

"But hypothetically," Draco said lightly, "if a cursed blood quill happened to make its way into Umbridge's cell, what would you like it to compel her to write?"

"Draco, no," Harry said.

"Lightly cursed?" Draco said.

Harry frowned.

"Very lightly cursed?" Draco suggested.

"There's no such thing as lightly cursed," Harry said.

"hem, hem. hurry. deadlines." the voice from inside the room interrupted.

Both Harry and Draco looked at the door and then back at each other.

"What took you so long?" Hermione demanded, hands on her hips as Harry and Draco came back into the Liar's Department office.

"Well-" Harry started.

"And why do you smell like smoke?" Hermione asked, her noise wrinkling.

"We had to take a small detour," Harry said.

"To see to a bonfire-" Draco said, holding a large plush shark under his arm.

"To Ikea," Harry said loudly, hoping Hermione hadn't heard Draco.

Hermione sighed and grimaced, looking like she regretted even asking, "And why were you at Ikea?"

Harry took a small box out of his pocket and resized it into the large flat-pack desk from Ikea. "To get a desk, like you asked."

"I didn't mean-" Hermione started.

"And have lunch," Draco said, "The meatballs are quite passable."

Harry patted his hand against the cardboard, "Don't you worry; we'll have this put together in no time."

(....I forgot that Draco isn't supposed to use magic outside his house... Maybe Hermione got him special permission? idk sorry, can't change it now, that part was too funny)