Welcome To Hell, Here Is Your Accordion

A/N: I deleted the older version of this story and started again. Sorry. I think I've got a better idea of where this might go now. First of all, there will definitely be SLASH. It will also be considerably longer and darker than originally planned. This is AU, and non magic. That's about all for now, if you read the other version you'll probably notice that this is very different. Enjoy!

All characters belong to J.K Rowling. Go her.

Chapter 1 - Bookshop

Draco Malfoy hated feeling stupid or childish. Even as a child, he had demanded that he be treated as an adult. Of course, when he told his parents that he was to be treated as such, they obliged, willing to give their little prince anything he wanted. For a few weeks, Draco found that they respected his opinion more, allowed him to do things they might not have previously and let him plan out his life for himself. Unfortunately for Draco, he managed to catch a very nasty cold from staying outside in the rain for too long and was subsequently diagnosed with a chest infection. After he returned from the hospital, recovered, he entered his room to find a large pile of medical bills planted neatly on his desk.

Shortly afterwards, Draco relinquished his status as an adult and his parents returned to their regular treatment of their little prince. As much as he detested it, he could see that there were definitely a few advantages to being treated like a child. However, all through his teenage years, he was the boy who hated musicals, as they made him feel embarrassed, and failed maths tests rather than admitting that he didn't understand the concepts and just might need a tutor. Yes, it remained that Draco hated being treated like a child, as it made him feel astronomically stupid.

So, when he was innocently going about his weekend and received an invitation to the circus, Draco was not impressed.

"Come on, Draco! It'll be fun." Pansy whined. He curled his lip at the sound.

"No. It's the circus. That's for kids." he spat, hoping his friend would pick up on his displeasure. Unfortunately, she didn't.

"Not this one! Well, it is, but it's also advertised as gay friendly." Draco rolled his eyes at this, knowing that gay friendly didn't always equate to sophisticated; the latter being his only prerequisite.

"So?"

"Oh come on, Draco!" Pansy sounded exasperated. He knew that to be a bad sign. She would stop arguing soon, and just act as though he were coming. Then, later, she would find some sneaky way of making sure he did.

"I'm not going. Why are you so interested? You've always been more inclined to stay away from the openly gay events," Pansy was silent for a moment. Draco, knowing the girl almost inside out, was sure she was blushing furiously. There was no other explanation for her silence. "You're seeing someone!" he cried. "Who is it? Why wasn't I the first to know?"

"Oh, don't be daft. I was the first to know. She was the second. If I were you, I'd feel flattered at third." Draco rolled his eyes and the smirked into the telephone, ignoring her horrible attempt to steer the conversation back to Draco.

"So you are seeing someone then? Who is she? Or is it a he?" he teased.

"Of course it's a she, you prat. Her name is Hermione." Pansy snapped back.

"And what does Hermione have to do with this fag-tastic circus spectacular?" he drawled.

"She's in it. If you must know." Silence.

"She's in it. So, you're dating the bearded lady or something." Draco was getting sick of this, but it did amuse him slightly to make Pansy annoyed.

"Actually, she does Spanish web. She's amazing." Pansy sounded slightly dreamy at that, ignoring his insult. Draco decided it would be a good time to change the topic.

"Pansy, as much as I'd love to listen to you fantasize about your girlfriend, I do have a lot of work to do. Find someone else to take you to the circus. If you're lucky, they might even get you a lollipop." He prepared to hang up, but Pansy had already started talking again.

"Sorry, Draco. I already told Hermione that you were coming. She's dying to meet my 'cranky, gay best friend'. I'll come pick you up next Tuesday. Ciao!" Pansy sounded smug, then hung up.

Draco cursed. He really didn't want to go. She hadn't even told him what time it was. He picked a book off his desk and threw it at the shelf opposite him. Feeling guilty, he immediately stood up, rushed to pick the book up and placed it neatly back on the shelf so a customer could find it.

Looking around the shop, he knew it wasn't exactly the perfect picture of order and cleanliness, but it was all his. He had bought the house, renovated the bottom level so it resembled a shop, taken the top floor as his bedroom and living room and opened for business. That was about six years ago. He had hastily dropped out of university when he realized that his father wasn't about to start talking to him again, whether he was a lawyer or a doctor; the fact remained that Lucius Malfoy's son was still gay, and that was the problem. Draco sighed, looking at the small rainbow sticker in the window and then over at the 'Gay and Lesbian' shelf, the words taunting him. He had planned on his father never knowing. Of course, the only way that would have been possible were if Draco and Lucius were the only two people on earth.

Nonetheless, he had kept it secret from the time he was thirteen years old and had only just realized it himself to when he was seventeen, and had foolishly let himself be caught with a boyfriend in the greenhouse. The boyfriend had been Zacharias Smith, who, despite not being quite as wealthy as Draco, knew how to sneer just as effectively. In fact, Zacharias knew everything, and didn't hesitate to demonstrate the fact. He had been Draco's first serious boyfriend. They had met through Pansy, who had known Draco since the start of high school. After the greenhouse incident, Draco had been thrown out of the house by his homophobic father and Zacharias had declared him too cumbersome to date. Draco had then gone to stay with Pansy for the next year while he started studying law and got a job to save up for his own flat or house. Needless to say, he knew Pansy very well.

He glanced at his watch. 9.15. It was only fifteen minutes before he planned to close the shop. He liked to stay open late on Fridays and Saturdays; there were lots of customers at that time of night and his bookshop was fairly well known; it was even in a few travel guide books.

He picked up a book off the desk and began to read, not really taking notice of the words on the page; he'd read it before. Before long, he became fairly absorbed in the book and forgot completely about closing the store. Draco sat there, unaware of the people breaking bottles in the street, the bus hurtling past and screeching around the corner and the small figure darting into the shop. To be fair, by this point Draco had fallen asleep on the desk, the lamp providing a small pool of light in which his head rested. The effect was something like a halo.

The figure looked at Draco for a moment, most likely trying to determine how likely he was to wake up. Satisfied, he quietly found the light switch and flicked off the main lights. If the man at the desk was fast asleep, then he wouldn't notice the sudden change in lighting conditions. He might stir, but he wouldn't wake. If he did wake up, it would be much better for the figure to escape in darkness, as then the man wouldn't see their face.

The figure darted to the back of the store, briefly gaining a shadow as he passed the lamp near the desk, giving him away as male. He began to hastily scan the titles of the books on one of the shelves with the aid of a mobile phone.

Every now and then, he glanced up at the man asleep on the desk to check that he was, in fact, asleep on the desk. He groaned softly as he realized that the book he was looking for was not on that particular shelf. He moved over to the next shelf and held his phone up to the titles, fighting very hard not to laugh as he realized he had stumbled on the erotica section. He tiptoed over to another bookshelf. This was the science section. The figure smiled. This was what he was looking for. He scanned the titles, becoming quite good at doing so quickly, and plucked a shabby brown book on black holes out from in amongst the other books. He was certain it was the right one.

Hugging it to his chest, he moved around to the next shelf, briefly looking back at the sleeping shop owner. He was hesitant to stay in the shop, as he had what he needed, but it was so inviting. He smiled as he shone a light on an elegantly written sign, reading 'Gay and Lesbian'. He looked at the man at the desk once more, and glanced towards the window, where a small rainbow sticker declared the shop's friendliness towards the GLBT community, deciding that the man was, at the very least, bisexual. The figure made a mental note; that information might come in handy later.

From what he had been told, the bookshop held various valuable books that he thought he might need. Some were genuinely valuable, such as the scientific one in his arms, and others would be most valuable to him, as they say: one man's trash is another man's treasure. He sighed as loudly as he could afford. He would have liked to get everything he needed in just one trip, but hadn't been told what else he was looking for looked like yet. He knew that it was quite likely that someone was playing games, but he intended to win this fair and square, just in case.

He slowly made his way to the front of the shop, looking at the man at the desk, praying he wouldn't wake up. The next part, it seemed to the figure, happened as if in slow motion. The man moved, turning his head on to it's side. The figure stopped, staring at the owner's face. If he were to wake up now, the figure was in trouble. He started to walk faster towards the front door. The man at the desk moved one of his arms across the desk in a sweeping motion, still asleep, but managing to knock several books, a plate and a pair of scissors onto the floor. The result was musically quite interesting, and also absolutely disastrous.

"Fuck," the figure whispered, frozen in place, watching as the man's eyelids flickered open confusedly. He didn't notice the book on black holes fall to the ground.

Draco woke with a start, acutely aware of the pain in his head from falling asleep at the desk as well as the crash of the things that had previously been happily sitting on his desk falling to the floor. He had drowsily noticed the quiet thud and whispered curse from somewhere at the back of the store, but was yet to assign those noises meaning.

He squinted at his watch, trying to make out the time in the dark. He swung the lamp closer towards himself and jolted, realizing it was almost midnight. He then looked up sharply, eyes narrowing at the lights overhead. Vaguely, he recalled them being switched on earlier. His eyes widened and he swung his head back towards the back of the store, piecing together the whisper, the thud and the lights.

One might have found the situation amusing, both men froze in place, staring at each other, but for the men in the room, it was simply terrifying. Draco cleared his throat.

"Who's there?" he said, grimacing at the fear in his voice. He stood up, swinging the lamp towards the back of the store. The light didn't reach the intruder, unfortunately.

The figure was petrified. He had no idea what to do. Getting caught hadn't been part of the game. The owner, who proved to be a very tall, blond man, was looking directly at him now.

The figure moved further back. His back hit something and he stopped. He felt around behind himself, trying to work out what it was he'd walked into. It was slightly round, large and cold. He drew his hands away in shock. Reaching back again, he turned around and squinted at the object. He could just make out a handle at the top. It looked like a very large spray bottle. Fat lot of use that was, he thought to himself.

He dimly wondered if there were any way that he could distract the blond. He could throw something at him, but that would only briefly draw his attention elsewhere, and when his attention turned back to the intruder, he was likely to get very angry. He could call someone and get them to cause some sort of commotion outside the store, but anyone who could do that was either asleep or too far away to get there in the short amount of time he needed them to. That would also give the shop owner some idea of what his voice sounded like, which would make him easier to identify later. He started to panic, wondering how disastrous exactly would it be if he were to set fire to the store. He paused, turning that thought over in his head.

Fire.

He gasped, turning back around to the enormous metal spray bottle. He grinned, however inappropriately, and reached out towards the object on the wall. With a surprising amount of strength, considering his size, he ripped the fire extinguisher of the wall and turned back around to the front of the store. The owner was now holding a book in his hand defensively, obviously worried by the loud noises coming from the back of the store.

The figure grasped the handle of the extinguisher and let fly. White smoke surrounded him as he ran towards the front of the store. He continued to spray it in all directions around him, blindly dashing in the direction of the exit. He could hear the owner shouting, but continued on his way, reaching the door and throwing the extinguisher back into the hazy shop. He exhaled and grinned, green eyes sparkling with exhilaration. He looked back at the shop once more, before taking off down the street and into the night, black hair dancing in the wind.

Draco rubbed at his eyes, opening more windows as he cursed and felt his way around the shop. He realized that he should have called the police as soon as he realized he wasn't alone. Somewhere in the back of his mind a small voice told him that they never call the police in novels, but he resolutely ignored it; he wasn't in a novel, and chances were he had just been robbed.

The store had mostly cleared now. He looked down at the fire extinguisher and grudgingly admitted to himself that it had been a classy way to escape, not to mention a stroke of genius. He made his way back to his desk and tiredly called the police. Hanging up, he was glad that the intruder hadn't set the store on fire.

He sat at his desk, looking at the shelves. There was no mess, everything just looked slightly dustier than usual. Draco shivered as the wind tore through the open windows. He stood up and made his way across the store to close them, when a small brown object caught his eye. He forgot about the windows and went to pick it up. It was too far away to have fallen off his desk, meaning that the intruder must have left it behind.

Turning it over in his hands, he noted that it was a rather shabby, second hand book on black holes. From the look of the price tag, it was also incredibly valuable. Questions filled his mind.

What was so special about this book, apart from the price? He had far more valuable books in the store, and there were cheaper books on black holes available.

What sort of thief leaves behind the item they intended to steal? Well, Draco thought, obviously a very bad one. He suspected that the intruder wasn't one who had made a habit of stealing things, which led him back to the first question.

A sharp knock at the door drew him away from his circular, futile line of questioning and back to the present. He opened the door to find himself face to face with a middle aged, tall, lean man with scraggly salt and pepper hair, sharp blue eyes, and a dark police uniform. Draco gulped. The inspector's eyes widened as they took in Draco's appearance, briefly flickering around the shop, then swinging back to Draco, still looking dumbstruck, much to Draco's confusion.

"Uh, hello. Come in," he said awkwardly to the older man, moving out of the way so that he could step into the shop. The man did so, gingerly, glancing once more at Draco's hair.

"Right," he said, looking around the shop and taking out a notepad. "Name?" he barked.

"Draco Malfoy." Not only did the inspector's eyes widen, but he visibly jumped this time.

"Malfoy. Right, what happened?" he asked, Draco's name sounding wrong on his lips.

Draco was slightly embarrassed, but told the man anyway. The man took notes, pen darting across the notepad as Draco tried to describe the intruder.

"Why didn't you turn the light on?" the man asked incredulously.

Draco did not take kindly to the man implying stupidity on his part. "I was behind my desk. I wasn't sure if the man was dangerous or not. The light switch was too far away," he explained angrily.

"And why didn't you call the police?"

Draco mumbled something under his breath, feeling heat rise on his cheeks.

"Pardon? Mr. Malfoy, this is serious. You need to answer the questions." the man chided.

Draco lifted his chin defiantly. "I was scared."

"Okay. Happens to the best of us. Is that the book you say he dropped?" The man pointed at the book in Draco's hand. Draco handed it to him and nodded. The inspector briefly looked over the cover, brow furrowed. He then opened the book and gasped, the book falling out of his hands and crashing to the ground for the second time that evening. Draco eyed him suspiciously. The man resembled a goldfish in that instant, opening and closing his mouth in the direction of the book on the floor.

"Excuse me Mr. Malfoy. I think that's all we'll be able to go over today. I'll get back to you. Um, let us know if anything is missing. Yes. Okay. Goodnight Mr. Malfoy," the inspector said hurriedly, dashing out of the shop, casting one more alarmed glance at Draco and the book on the floor. Draco watched him go, agreeing silently with the voice in the back of his head that this had been the most bizarre night of his life.

Picking the book up off the floor, he switched off the lights and walked up the stairs of the terrace, towards his bedroom. He threw the book on his bed, intending to examine it once he was safely tucked away under his many blankets. He took off his clothes and slid into the double bed, picking up the book.

He didn't make it past the first seven words on the inside cover before falling asleep, the bedside lamp still on. The words he had read were, however, burned into his memory, tucked away in case they were valuable at a later date.

If found, please return to Lily Evans.

A/N: Better? Worse? Help me out here!