WHO YOU'D BE TODAY

CHAPTER ONE: DRINKIN' DARK WHISKEY

Drinkin' dark whiskey,
Tellin' white lies.
One leads to another
On a Saturday night.
Don't ya cross your heart,
Unless you hope to die.
Drinkin' dark whiskey,
Tellin' white lies.

Well, the first drop burns,
But the second one goes down smooth.
Then that old black label
Get a hold of you.
It loosens your tongue
But it never tells the truth.

Three years had past since the end of the Second War. Without a doubt everyone agreed that the world had changed, especially Great Britain. There was argument though. Had the world changed for the better or for the worse?

Those who said that the world changed for the better were the Purebloods and supporters of the Dark Lord. Throughout his entire campaign these people were by his side agreeing that Muggles and Muggleborn witches and wizards were second class citizens. When the Dark Lord beckoned for them to come to his side, they obliged. Some in fear of their lives and others who had malicious minds agreed fully with his ideas and thoughts.

On the other hand those who thought that the world changed for the worse were the Order of the Phoenix, the Muggles, and those who did not chose a side. They wanted the end of Voldemort's cruel campaign of terrorizing Muggles and killing those who opposed him. Therefore, despite the dark side winning, the Order was still contemplating scenarios on how to destroy Voldemort. So far they had yet to find any brilliant ideas.

However the Order of the Phoenix had two spies. One that everybody knew quite well, yet the Dark Lord had not done anything with this spy; therefore the Order allowed him to keep his spy status, except that he no longer achieved any truly useful information.

On the other hand, the other spy was very useful. His own father was the Dark Lord's very own, personal right hand man, and he, the father, was training his son to take over his position as soon as he fell because during war and strife it was not known exactly if one would truly live through the night. And because he, Lucius Malfoy was a very well known Death Eater, death attempts were tried daily, however none had succeeded yet, or so the wizarding and Muggle communities believed.

Yet was the key word, since his father happened to be on death's row, mused a blond haired man about the age of twenty-one. He was sitting on a stool in a very dark, dingy pub waiting for a sign of his informant who happened to be twenty-three minutes and fifteen seconds. He only knew this because he had a highly sophisticated watch that timed everything down to micro seconds, even though he could not comprehend what microseconds suggested. Therefore he usually ignored that part and concentrated on the parts that he could understand.

Like minutes and seconds. Plus hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades and centuries; but he personally hoped that he would not have to wait past a half-hour. But if his lord required it, he would do it to his up most displeasure.

Calling over a serving girl, he ordered indifferently, "A shot of whiskey."

The girl, a short dirty blonde haired, nodded her head, and started to walk away at a rather brisk pace. He was curious to why she walked away so fast, but his question was soon answered when she arrived mere seconds' later out of breath.

"Here is your drink, sir," she said politely. She bowed her head and he looked at her uniform. On her left shoulder was a large, solid red I.

"Muggleborn or a Muggle," he murmured to himself while the girl finished her bow and bolted out of his sight. He did not care though. He was thinking about the large letter on girl's uniform. Glancing at his own letter, he nearly swore. No wonder the poor girl had been frightened out of her wits because she had to serve him; he was wearing the badge of a respected Voldemort supporter.

He tore the badge off of his own shirt, and stuffed it into one of his pant's pockets. How could he have been so foolish? This was not a Dark Lord supporting pub; when he had first entered he had clearly seen the Phoenix at the entrance, but once inside the building and sitting down he had forgotten completely about his own badge because he was more concerned more about the complete imbecile that he considered a valuable ally even though throughout their years at Hogwarts they had fought like cats and dogs.

Not that it meant that things had not changed over the course of the past three years; they tried to remain somewhat civil in each other's company. However now that their beloved referee was missing, they behaved civilly towards each other in the hopes that between their combined efforts they would find her faster.

This philosophy had not been working to his displeasure. He still had no idea where she was, and he hoped that in the past month, his acquaintance found at least some sort of useful information. Not only did he and his acquaintance want to find her, but so did the Dark Lord because she happened to either know or had a valuable possession of his. Therefore the Dark Lord wanted her, either dead or alive, but preferably alive.

He took a long guzzle of his whiskey, and looked at his watch. He had now been waiting for twenty-nine and forty-six seconds.

Growling in the back of his throat, he asked, "Where are you Potter?"

"Right here," came a voice from behind him. He turned around slowly to see a man around his own age. He had black hair with a lightning shape scar on his forehead. His eyes were startlingly green, and his right arm was in a cast which looked years old.

The man, Potter, grinned sheepishly, "Sorry Malfoy, but I got a little tied up back there."

The blonde haired man, Malfoy, raised an eyebrow, so Potter decided to elaborate. "My fan club."

"Right," replied Malfoy,"I'm supposed to believe that one. Potter, I have more of a fan club than you'll ever have."

Before Potter replied, he went to sit down across the table from Malfoy then called over one of the serving girls. Unlike the one that served Malfoy, she was not the least bit frightened of Potter, but that was probably because he was proudly bearing the sign of the Phoenix on the back of his shirt.

"Hello, sir," she said, "What can I get for you today?"

"What he has," Potter replied, pointing at Malfoy's drink.

"Ah," she laughed. "So you are a whiskey drinker too?"

"Looks like I am today," grinned Potter.

"Well okay, I'll be back in minutes!" She waved flirtatiously and walked away. Potter watched with a slight smile upon his lips, meanwhile Malfoy frowned.

"What would Ginny say is she had seen you?"

"Hm?" asked Potter still watching the retreating girl's figure.

Sighing in annoyance, Malfoy asked again, "What would your girlfriend say is she saw you like this?"

Potter wrinkled his brow. "You mean my girlfriend?"

When Malfoy nodded his head, Potter sighed. "She wouldn't say anything," Malfoy raised an eyebrow, and Potter elaborated. "She would kill me then resurrect me, only to kill me again."

Malfoy made a fake sound of pity, and Potter glared at him. "Well, at least I have a girlfriend, unlike you Malfoy."

It was then Malfoy's turn to glare at Potter. "You know perfectly well that my girlfriend happens to be gone for a while."

Potter smirked, and leaned over the table so that he was closer to Malfoy. Whispering, he said, "You know perfectly well that she isn't gone for a little while, Malfoy. She is missing. You understand what the means don't you?"

"It means the same as gone, doesn't it?" replied Malfoy.

"No," said Potter. "Missing means that nobody knows her location, that she could be as good as dead and nobody would know."

"But you don't believe that she is dead, do you?" asked Draco. Potter shrugged and the serving girl arrived with his drink. Once the drink was set down on the table, Potter took a good guzzle out of it, and then rubbed the arm that was in the cast.

Forgetting about the original subject, Malfoy asked, "Potter, does that arm still bother you?"

Sighing, he replied, "Yeah, it still does, especially on rainy days."

"Then I guess in your luck," said Malfoy, "because it is raining today!"

Potter scowled at his companion. "At least it is not as bad as it was though. The Med witch though says that I'll never have use of it again."

"And that's bad how?" asked Malfoy knowing perfectly well what the answer would be.

Like always, Potter replied, "This is my wand arm, and if I don't have use of it-"

"You'll never be able to destroy the Dark Lord like you were destined to," finished Malfoy. "Yeah, yeah, I've heard it before."

"Then why did you ask?"

"Because I felt like it," replied Malfoy crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat. He watched Potter's puzzled expression in amusement, until finally Potter asked, "You were just trying to get the topic off of her again, weren't you?"

Malfoy sighed. "Guilty as charged," he admitted.

Potter gave a half grin, and said, "Well then I guess this is your lucky day then!"

"How?" asked Malfoy. "Unless you found her, then my day is awful."

Frowning slightly, Potter said, "I've not found her per se, but I think that I know where she is located."

Malfoy sat up straight, and asked urgently, "Where is she located, then?"

"Well let's go through the world," said Potter smirking. When Malfoy grumbled a few curse words, Potter's smirk increased if that was possible.

"So where do we begin," asked Malfoy annoyed.

"Well home is always best."

"Then get on with it."

"Fine," said Potter drawing out a map of the world. Pointing his left index finger at the tiny dot that represented the city of London, he said, "We are here."

"I knew that."

"Well just checking to see if you had any geography skills." Potter then circled his index finger around Great Britain and Ireland. "Voldemort has control over all these lands."

"No kidding," murmured Malfoy. "But I don't see how that helps."

"Just wait and see," said Potter. He moved his finger towards mainland Europe. "He has control all over this area,-" Moving his finger towards the Mediterranean Sea, he finished, "Except for these islands in the Mediterranean Sea."

"And that has anything to do with her how?" asked Malfoy looking up into Potter's eyes. His eyes were giving away nothing, so he took a deep breath and asked again. "What does the Mediterranean Sea have to do with Hermione?"

"Everything," said Potter after taking another hit from his whiskey.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, trying to indicate for Potter to elaborate which he finally did after a few minutes of silence.

"Just two days ago there was a fight in Turkey, you know what I'm talking about don't you?" Malfoy nodded his head. He remembered that particular fight. It had been on the beach near the Dardanelles. The cold weather did not stop either side from fighting the hardest, and he had ended up starting the fight with the Death Eaters, but throughout the tough fight, he managed to find a place with the Order. Luckily for him none of the Death Eaters saw his change of heart. If they had, he would have had a lot of explaining to do.

After the fight, the Death Eaters disappeared; it had been their worst defeat in a year, and the Order had scored the beach for survivors. Because he was a spy, Malfoy did not help with the clean up, but left to catch up with his fellow Death Eaters so that they would continue to be ignorant of his true loyalties.

"Well," said Potter, "while I was scoring the beach with Ron, we happened to discover an unconscious man on the beach"

"So?" asked Malfoy completely confused as to where this was leading.

"This man happened to be a Muggle-"

"And a Muggle wouldn't be fighting against the Death Eaters or with them," mused Malfoy rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Yes," said Potter. "Ron and I thought it was unusual so we woke him up and asked where he came from."

"And what did he say?"

"He said that he came from an island."

"Which island?" asked Malfoy annoyed? "Do you realize how many islands there are in the Mediterranean Sea?"

Potter sighed. "I know perfectly well that there are many islands, so I asked the man if he could give us a better idea of the location."

"What did he say?"

"He said that where he came from it was peaceful. No fighting, no war, no Voldemort."

Malfoy cringed at hearing the Dark Lord's name. "Could you not say his name?"

Potter shrugged, and muttered, "Sorry." He took another chug of his whiskey, and put down the glass. "After we had that little bit of information, Ron and I did some research."

Interrupting, Malfoy gasped, "You and Weasely did research? I'm thoroughly impressed. I must tell Hermione as soon as I see her."

Scowling, Potter replied, "You go do that, but anyways I've done research before, even without her help."

"Sure I believe you," said Malfoy mockingly. "But that is off topic. I want to know what you discovered."

"Well," said Potter. "I looked at all the islands in the Mediterranean Sea, and all of them except two are controlled by Voldemort."

"That's a given," replied Malfoy. "These days the Dark Lord controls everything." Then he stopped, and looked at Potter suspiciously, "Did you say all but two are controlled by him?"

When Potter nodded his head, he asked, "Which two?"

"One of the tiny Aegean Sea islands and..." Potter did not finish. "It wouldn't matter anyways if I told you the second one. Nobody has seen or heard of it in ages and it is probable that it has been destroyed in the course of the years."

"I don't care if it was destroyed or not, just tell me the name of the island!" said Malfoy irate.

Potter looked down at his whiskey sheepishly. Slowly he said, "The Island is Crete."

" Crete?" asked Malfoy perplexed. "Isn't that one of the larger Mediterranean Sea islands?"

Potter nodded his head, Malfoy asked, "Then how could it not be under the control of the Dark Lord?"

Shrugging Potter said, "I don't know, that's why I said it might be destroyed, but with further research-"

"You did more research? Hermione will be very impressed."

Potter scowled, "Yes, I did more research. Anyways like I was saying before you interrupted me again-"

"I didn't interrupt you!" cried Malfoy indignant.

"Well you just did," huffed Potter. "Like I was saying, I found a weather report that showed the way the wind was blowing and the wind current for earlier that day. The longer I researched; I realized that there was a connection between Crete and the man."

"And it is?" said Malfoy trying to prod Potter into telling him more.

Taking a deep breath, Potter said, "And it is a perfect match up. The man came from Crete, and it has to be where she is."

Malfoy sighed. "Aren't you making too much of an assumption Potter? She's probably not there."

"But there is a chance that she is," argued Potter. "And if there is that chance, I want her back."

"And so do I," stated Malfoy. "But if she isn't, would you want to deal with all of the heartbreak again?"

Potter fell silent for a few seconds. He took a sip from his whiskey, and sat in a thoughtful posture. Finally after a few more uncomfortable, in Malfoy's perspective, seconds, he said, "I think we should take that chance." Then pointedly he stated, "And your Lord would wish it."

Growling from the back of his throat, Malfoy said, "You just had to mention him, didn't you?"

Smugly, Potter agreed, "Yes I did."

Malfoy leaned back in his chair. "Well I suppose you are right, Potter. This way we'll be killing two birds with one stone. I please my lord, as you so eloquently put it, and we'll find her."

"Which we've been planning for the last three years, unless I'm mistaken."

"No, you're right. It has been three years," he replied solemnly. "Three bloody long years... Probably the longest in my life." He took the last swig of his whiskey. "Well Potter, I should be going."

"As should I," agreed Potter. The two companions stood up simultaneously, and Potter began to walk towards the door. Malfoy however stood still and ended up being in his way.

"Are you sure?" he asked softly as Potter tried to move around him. "Because I don't want to be disappointed again."

Potter smiled sadly. "Neither do I, Malfoy. But we're going to have to take this chance because if we don't, we'll never find her."

Opening his mouth to reply, he suddenly shut it, and allowed Potter to walk around his chair. He watched him as he placed a rather large tip onto the table, and silently disappeared out of the pub, mostly likely through a secret door that only he would know about since Potter was the World's Savior.

For the rest of the hour he remained seated in the pub, gulping down large portions of the alcoholic drink until he felt the pain numbing in his chest. Malfoy stood up when the waitress walked over to his table, and requested, "Sir, it's closing time."

"Right," he mumbled drunkenly, swinging back and forth on his own two legs. It was time that he went to see the Dark Lord, to tell him about the news. In fact, if he was lucky, the Dark Lord would command him to go there himself, and he would be able to immediately see here.

But that was only if she was there; thus, Potter better be praying for his life that he was not lying, or even fabricating the truth about the gravity of the situation, or else Malfoy would be furious.

He swaggered out of the pub, into the street. Ignoring the strange looks as he tore his badge out of his pocket, and placed it on the front of his shirt, Malfoy Apparated to the Dark Lord's lair without a second thought.

Once he found himself in the receiving vestibule of the cave, he started to walk towards the entrance, but a lumbering presence stopped him.

"You aren't allowed in there, Sir," the large, lumbering presence sneered. "The Dark Lord requests no one's presence." He crossed his arms across his chest, trying to look threatening. If Malfoy had been anyone else, he would have been frightened, but after seeing the man's badge, he immediately knew that he held a higher rank, and did not have to listen to the guard.

"Goyle, it is Malfoy, thus, let me pass," he commanded, walking straight ahead, after placing a well performed Sofoces Charm on the man, since Malfoy figured he had been inconsiderately rude.

After giving Goyle a swift kick towards the ribs, Malfoy went to the door, using the secret password which was a sacrificial ritual the Dark Lord required all of his allies to use before speaking with him.

Cutting his finger along the edge of a nearby sharp rock, Malfoy put the spot of blood onto the bright ruby that represented the eye of a snake. Once he did that, the snake withered pain, and slithered towards the invisible knob, opening the door, thus allowing Malfoy into the room.

He walked into the room silently, seeing that the Dark Lord was currently pouring over volumes of texts, obviously in search of something of great importance. Squinting his eyes slightly, Malfoy noticed the book the Dark Lord was reading was named, The Most Influential Witches and Wizards Ten Years Before the Millenium by Liesel O'Brien.

"Can you believe this, Draco?" the Dark Lord asked, pointing at page number 483. "I'm ranked at number four! The absurdity of only being considered at only fourth! I would have at least expected to be in the top three, if not number one! But four?" The Dark Lord turned around to face Malfoy, and asked, "Say, should I kill this esteemed Liesel O'Brien for her questionable ranking, Draco?"

"Do as you please, my Lord," replied Malfoy, bowing down slightly, but immediately had to catch himself since he almost fell over. "For my opinion does not matter, because I'm merely a servant at your service."

Luckily, the Dark Lord had not seen his stumble, for currently he was waving his wand, casting a silent spell. Out of thin air appeared a bottle of wine and two china glasses. The Dark Lord poured two glasses, and beckoned for Malfoy to come over.

"Sit down Draco," he beckoned towards a plush seat that suddenly appeared from nowhere. He handed Malfoy a glass of wine, the stated, "Now, Draco, I take your opinion very seriously, just like your esteemed father who was so unfortunately caught and killed during you last year at Hogwarts."

Malfoy took a sip of the wine, and suddenly his eyes felt heavy. He nodded his head, as the Dark Lord continued, "Now, your father had wonderful ideas about the perfect world. In fact, the Badge System was his idea, which by the way I think was quite marvelous. Don't you agree, Draco?"

"Yes, my Lord," he replied dutifully.

"The Badge System spreads fear throughout the world, does it not? And to make things even better, no one can make a counterfeit badge, all thanks to the wondrous Mudblood who we shall not mention," sneered the Dark Lord. He guzzled his glass of wine, and picked up the snake that had been sleeping at his feet. Stroking the snake's scales, the Dark Lord asked, "Now, I know I said I wouldn't speak of her, but have you any news of her whereabouts Draco? It is necessary that I know what she knows, because Draco, she knows something that I need to know. Or else, we won't know if we actually won the war."

"But, my Lord, we won the war three years ago," stated Malfoy.

"Then why are we still fighting?" asked the Dark Lord. When Malfoy did not reply, he answered, "Because the incongruible Order of the Phoenix still thinks they have a chance to beat me eventually, but I'll tell you this boy, it's all in vain." He poured himself another glass of wine, and took a sip delicately. Looking over the top of the glass, he said, "I'm never going to lose this power."

Malfoy nodded his head in agreement, even though in his drunken state he was protest furiously inside his head. "Yes, my Lord. You shall always have power."

"That is right my boy," the Dark Lord said, nodding his head. "But even I won't be able to live forever. That is why, if you tell me any information about that Mudblood Hermione Granger, I shall make you my successor."

Immediately Malfoy was taken aback, "Successor?"

"Yes, my successor," said the Dark Lord. "Now, what do you know?"

"An acquaintance of mine who does not know my true position told me about a Mediterranean island," began Malfoy. The Dark Lord attention piqued interest, as he continued, "This person said that this island, Crete, had simply disappeared off the face of the planet, and this person suspects that war refugees might be hiding on said island."

" Crete?" repeated the Dark Lord, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I've never thought about it much before. I suppose it is possible that she and others might be there."

Malfoy nodded his head, waiting for the Dark Lord's answer, and finally he said, "Draco, I give you my permission to take an expedition of Death Eaters to Crete, and if you find the Mudblood, preferable alive, bring her back here immediately."

Standing up immediately, Malfoy went to the exit, almost tripping over his own feet, but caught himself before he could fall. He turned around, "I'll leave immediately for Crete, by your permission of course, my Lord."

"Go Draco," the Dark Lord waved indolently, "But may I suggest that you lay off on liquor for a while. It is necessary that you are in top physical and mental conditions if you are to succeed."

"Yes my Lord," replied Malfoy, bowing, and he stumbled out of the Dark Lord's lair and into the vestibule where Goyle still laid, unconscious.

Muttering the counter curse silently, Goyle's eyes popped open, and he muttered dumbly, "What happened?" His stomach growled, and he took out a fat slab of chocolate from his back pocket that was thoroughly melted. As Goyle was about to put the piece into his mouth, Malfoy snatched it away.

"I have a proposition for you, Goyle," he sneered. "Which will require you to listen, not feed on gruesome pieces of food that are not fit for a person of your status?" Thus, Malfoy threw the slab of chocolate onto the dirt floor and squashed it with the tip of toes.

Looking mournfully at the chocolate, Goyle asked, "Why did you do that Draco?"

Malfoy sighed in exasperation, "I demand that you find a group of six willing Death Eater who want to go on a short excursion to an island."

"For vacation?" asked Goyle hopefully.

"No!" snapped Malfoy. "To follow the Dark Lord's commands of course. He wants a group to find Crete and invade the island." Goyle gave Malfoy a blank look, and finally he snapped, "Just do it! You don't need to know any more!"

Malfoy crossed his arms and Apparated out of the room, not caring that Goyle was still looking at him blankly. Frankly, he did not care for he was tired, and needed to sleep off the large amounts of alcohol he had consumed throughout the evening.

When he appeared in his living room, he immediately walked to his bedroom. He did not bother taking off his clothes, instead, he just fell onto the bed, and promptly fell asleep, not caring what would happen the next day, or even two, or one year, or for the rest of his life.

He just wanted to sleep, and forget about his life. After all, it was not easy to tell little white lies to the two most powerful men in the country, if not the world.

A/N

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of Who You'd Be Today. Remember, I don't own Harry Potter, or the song. Thanks for reading, and I would appreciate it if you review.

Verbeia