It was a familiar dance, one she could perform in her sleep. Each time it began in the exact same manner and ended the exact same way - with Hermione winning. She would stand to her feet, drop the outer robes that all Ministry officials wore to the floor, and slowly, but deliberately cross the room to where Rabastan was seated behind his desk. The anticipation he felt in her torturous journey across the carpet almost always had him primed and ready before she'd even touched him.