Inside, Professor Malfoy is marking essays, and muttering uncomplimentary things under his breath, and his office hours are not right now, so no one should be knocking at his door, let alone twice. The other professors know he prefers firecalls to personal visits when he's trying to get through his stacks of essays, who is that?

"If that's someone wanting me to look over an essay, it might be better to change your mind," he calls, letting the forbidding irritation leak into his voice. He stands abruptly, tossing his quill in the direction of the inkwell and not even watching as it sails over to land in it (every time, a gift from Scorpius from that joke shop Albus' uncles look after), and he whips his teaching robes back on in a billow of black before wrenching the door open. "Oh." That isn't a student. "Al's Mum." ...no. A pained expression crosses his face as he hears the nonsense he's just said. "Ginny. What are you doing here?"