On a dusty evening, Knockturn Alley outside of Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary was still and quiet before its door blasted open. Three figures cloaked in black stepped out, two bulky and one thin. Six eyes peeked out of three masks: black, blue, and grey. The two hulks flanks the thin, grey-eyed figure. They began to walk briskly down the street.
The blue-eyed man cackled. "Mulpepper - you'd think he'd get used to us robbing his arse by now. Merlin. I thought he was going to shit himself."
The black-eyed man sighed. "Reign it in, Avery. The man already fears us - no need to intimidate him further."
"What? I was just having a bit o' fun," Avery snickered. He playfully elbowed the ribs of the thinner one, who tensed and didn't reply.
The black-eyed man turned to the thinner one. "You've got what you need to make the pain potions, boy?" The grey-eyed figure nodded. "Good - Carrow will be relieved. I only wish Snape was still around to brew for us, or at least died until after he'd brought you up to speed."
Neither of the bulkier men noticed the gloved hands of grey-eyes clench momentarily into fists. Shutters to the residences above the shops slammed as the three walked past.
"What say you to a drink, Mulciber? Duck into the Leaky Cauldron, for old times' sake?" said Avery, swinging his meaty arms casually.
Mulciber shook his head. "No. We've got to get this one back to Headquarters so he can brew. Carrow's in pain - "
"Aw, he's just putting up a fuss. Come on, just a half-hour and we're out of there. Let's have us a shot of firewhiskey, on me."
Mulciber seemed to consider this. "Very well, one shot and maybe a butterbeer," he conceded. "But let's make it quick."
They headed to Diagon Alley, turning the corner at the run-down Quality Quidditch Supplies. The grey-eyed Death Eater stole a moment to gaze at the freshly clipped, gleaming brooms while the other two weren't looking. He followed them past the darkened shops.
As they approached the brick back wall of the Leaky Cauldron, they crossed paths with a group of five hooded figures in white robes. From their necks hung silver hand-shaped medallions. As they passed, one, an elderly man, looked up at them. Noticing them, he cast an ugly glare.
Avery stopped short and gripped the wand at his side. "What the fuck are you staring at, arsehole?"
The man's craggy face twitched into a deadened expression of defeat, and he lowered his gaze. He and the other hooded figures quickened their pace.
"That's right," Avery sneered, brandishing his wand and twirling it in his fingers. "Just because you're a damn monk doesn't make you less of a wandless Mudblood. You're lucky I let you live."
"Really, Avery, shut it," said Mulciber, taking his shoulder. "Come inside and buy me a drink."
Avery tugged his shoulder free from Mulciber's grasp. He jabbed his wand towards his mask, which evaporated in a silvery cloud to reveal a bearded scowl. Then he made a sucking noise and spat after the elderly man. "Omnia scum."
Mulciber tapped the brick in a pattern with his wand, opened the door to the Leaky Cauldron, and finally succeeded in coaxing Avery inside. The grey-eyed Death Eater took a furtive moment to turn his mask toward the retreating, white-robed figures before stepping in after them.
As the three men entered, a hush fell over the already somber crowd of the Leaky Cauldron. Patrons dared glances in the Death Eaters' direction before returning quickly to their drinks. Avery smirked and sauntered up to a table where two silver-haired men were seated. He glared at them until they stood up and moved to the bar without a word. Avery nodded, self-satisfied, before sitting down and spreading out his thick limbs. Mulciber dissolved his own mask to reveal a face with sharp cheekbones, a strong chin, and black eyes as he took his seat beside Avery.
The thin Death Eater took the chair facing them. Over Mulciber's shoulder, he could see the patrons seated at the bar as Tom the bartender worried his eyebrows and took the two silver-haired men's orders. Next to one of the men, a young lady gazed over her shoulder at him. The grey-eyed Death Eater had expected her to hurriedly turn her back to him once she'd realized he had caught her staring; she didn't. In fact, she shot him a rather impudent, dark look. Finally, she turned away. His grey eyes affixed to her back.
"Take off your mask and drink with us, Malfoy."
The third Death Eater was startled to discover that, in the time that he'd been staring at the girl, the other two had already ordered and received their drinks. They each held a shot-glass of firewhiskey poised in one hand and a butterbeer in the other. They'd ordered the same for him.
Avery pointed a wand between Draco's eyes. He flinched - his mask blew away like silver dust, revealing a pointed face that may have been handsome if not for its haunted, agitated look. The shadows under each dull, grey eye were nearly black. The other two men looked at him expectantly, shot glasses held high. Without expression, Draco lifted his as well; all three threw the whiskey down their throats. It tore through Draco's insides, making him cough. Avery pounded him on the back and guffawed.
As Avery and Mulciber began talking over business matters, Draco's attention drifted back to the woman at the bar. There was something so familiar in the look she had given him, in the way she moved, but he couldn't place her. Her hair was long and sandy-colored. Her facial features were nondescript, besides the unusually bright eyes. She was not a great beauty, yet she made his heart pound.
He interrupted Avery and Mulciber as they praised the General yet again - something about his perfecting a wand-weakening potion - with a little cough. When they caught his gaze, he forced a mischievous smile.
"Would you excuse me, gentlemen?" he said silkily. "There's a lady at the bar I'd like to, ah, get to know." He nodded toward the sandy blond head.
Avery and Mulciber turned to gaze at the curve of her waist and hips. Mulciber smirked, and Avery winked. "Go get her, boy-o."
With one last dashing smile, Draco took his beer and rose from the table. Avery punched him playfully on the shoulder. He stepped past him and approached the bar just as the patron sitting to the woman's right closed out his tab and left. Draco took the vacated seat.
It didn't escape his notice that the woman seemed to immediately recoil from him. The scowl he had seen before returned to her face as she took another sip of her butterbeer, her gaze glued to the bar. He noticed that her slender hand shook; she turned slightly away, as if wanting to pretend he didn't exist.
Draco cleared his throat before saying cautiously, "Hello, miss. Have we met?"
She coughed, but otherwise continued to ignore him.
He clenched his jaw and peeked back at his two partners. They weren't watching. Draco scooted his stool closer to the woman, close enough that their thighs were touching. She froze; he heard her breath quicken, saw her eyes dart about. He leaned close until his breath brushed her ear.
"I don't know if you heard my question."
She swallowed and closed her eyes. He noticed the little blonde hairs on her neck standing on end. He darted another glance back at Avery and Mulciber. Avery was grinning at him luridly. His heartbeat quickened.
Her right hand was wrapped tightly around her mug; her left was clenched in her lap. Draco slowly reached over and hovered his hand over her thigh; she stiffened her legs and grit her teeth as she watched his hand close around her wrist.
"I will ask you one more time," Draco whispered into her ear. "Do you know me?"
She took a deep breath before turning to face him, surprisingly defiant. "No," she said, her voice deep and much firmer than her quivering hands would predict.
Her bright eyes widened as Draco's wand jabbed her rib. His mouth, next to her ear once again, was in a snarl.
"Where the fuck have you been all this time, Potter?"
