I sighed, and glanced up from the summary sheet on the table in front of me. Steely grey eyes bored into mine from across the table and a sneer wormed its way onto my face. I diverted my attention to my fingernails. They needed re-doing. I made a mental note get Christina to book someone to come into the office and do them for me. I know I sound like a girl, but I take pride in my appearance. I get my hair cut every three weeks, a vintage barber gives me the closest shave this side of the midlands every Friday and I get a manicure every month. The reason behind the latter is that when closing cases, your hands play a vital part. You talk with your hands throughout the trial, the meetings, everything... and at the end you shake, whether the outcome's good or bad. These days' people judge you on the strength of that handshake, and how your hands look.
"Have you thought over my proposal?" The cool, calculating voice of Draco Malfoy echoed around the conference room.
"Yes, I have." My father replied, hands clasped together in front of him. "And I'm going to accept it."
My head snapped up so fast I think I broke a bone.
"You're what?" I asked, at exactly the same time as Malfoy Junior did.
"I'm accepting the offer, Albus. It's in the companies best interest, as well as this families." I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms and setting my now angry stare on a knot in the wood.
"The same can be said for us, Scorpius." I heard Malfoy say. "I'm tired of this feud, as is Mr Potter, and we both agree that it isn't healthy for our families to be surrounded by this negative atmosphere."
"Whatever." I heard the younger mutter. "I don't get how it would work though."
"How so?" I heard my father ask.
"Because our companies ethics morals, ethics, whatever you want to call it, are the complete opposite of theirs." I sighed. "You, father, have a hero complex and take on every bloody sob story you're presented with, whether it's a celebrity or a homeless person or anywhere in-between." I carried on despite his protests. "Whereas Malfoy never does probono cases, and only helps the person with enough cash to make it worthwhile. Sure, you both do high profile cases, but more often than not you'd be on opposite sides of the courtroom. That's what you're famous for. 'Evans' is the sympathiser, ruthless yet always for justice, and 'Malfoy' is famous for being cold and calculating, defending the rich and famous whether right or wrong. So it wouldn't work without a shit tonne of changes." I lifted my head, staring around the room lazily. "Obviously."
"And that's where you two come in." I turned to look at the older blonde.
"Excuse me?" I cocked a brow.
"You and Scorpius. You're going to take over the company after your father and I retire. You're going to be in charge of making sure everything runs smoothly, that the transition is effective and harmonious." He smirked lightly, eyes identical to those of his son locked on mine.
"And how, pray tell, would we do that?" I asked, leaning on the table, head propped up on my fist, and my fingers drumming lightly against the wooden surface.
He shrugged, a rare sight, leaning back in his chair. "That's for you two to figure out, being the budding leaders that you are."
"It's impossible, father." His son spat, fists clenched and resting on the table top. "Why can't you just accept that and get over the idea?"
"It was 'impossible' for me to salvage this company and this professional relationship after what your grandfather did, Scorpius, yet here I am." He retorted, leaning forward in his chair, eyes glinting and his previously cool exterior evaporating before my eyes.
"What did he do?" I asked, suddenly curious. The two aristocrats set steely gazed on me. "I mean if we're going to be working together, Mr Malfoy, it might be important..." I trailed off, smirking at the pair of them.
"Call me Draco." He said, smoothing his hair. "And my father, he lied to clients, stole from my company as well as yours, and caused irreparable damage."
"He stole from his own company?" I asked, blinking in confusion. "And ours? How'd he manage that?"
"He took money from the client, more than needed, and stored it in offshore accounts. He'd then deliberately lose cases and make it seem like he'd tried his hardest so the client would come back to him, paying him more to 'do his best' again. And... And He was close, in business terms, to your grandparents." He tugged at his collar. "Would uh, would you prefer to tell this part, Harry?" It was strange, both seeing him this uncomfortable and hearing my fathers name leaving his previous rivals lips.
I heard my father exhale through his nose. "He was a charismatic, smooth talking man, and my parents trusted him with a lot business wise. Lord knows why, common courtesy I suppose. They gave him access cards to the building after he gave the same for his company to them. "For emergencies, I'd want you there", he said. But he came in one night when he knew they were out of town and made copies of all the bank details that were held in the safe in the main office. He took millions, and when my parents heard they started back here immediately. That was the night they were killed. They cut through an alley to get here faster, Tom Riddle noted their posh evening clothes and followed, mugging and killing them. I was 13 at the time."
I stared at my father, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. He'd never told me the full story of how my grandparents on his side died. I'd never asked, assuming it was too painful for him to recall. I knew they'd been murdered, killed during a mugging gone wrong, but that was it. I never knew the finer details; I never knew the name of their killer... And now I knew it all, and the reason he never spoke of it. It was because his job, the thing he loved to do, was linked to their deaths in a way no man could ever forget.
"And yet you trust him?" I asked quietly.
"Yes." He replied, eyes shining a little. "And I'm asking you to do the same."
I stared at him for a minute before nodding. "Okay. For you, I will."
We were sat in silence for a few minutes before my phone rang.
"Christina, my sweet angel, please tell me that Mr Fletcher's in my office waiting." I said, checking my watch.
"Unfortunately." She replied dryly. "He was staring at my tits the entire time he was talking to me."
"I've told you time and time again, they are a fabulous pair. God must've smiled upon you the day you hit puberty." My father choked on his drink, whirling around and staring at me with wide eyes. I merely shrugged. Her tut brought me back to the conversation. "You know it's true. Anyway, did he bring the contract with him?"
"Yes, he did. I'd hurry though, Albus, he's eyeing up your collection."
My eyes widened involuntarily, "I'm trusting you to make sure he keeps his hands off my balls, angel. You know I'd never forgive you if something happened to them." Another look from my father. I mouthed 'footballs' at him and he nodded, and proceeded to explain this to the confused, and in Juniors case flushed, looking Malfoy & Co.
"Of course, sweetie. Hurry though, I know you're discussing the merger, but this needs doing quickly. And I'm not saying that to defend my endowment."
"Of course. Stay peachy." I said, grinning as she laughed before hanging up. I stood, re doing the middle button of my suit jacket. "If you'll excuse me, I've got a job to get back to. The most recent Fletcher case is being closed today." My father nodded, smiling lightly. "Draco, Junior." I smirked at the low growl that escaped the son as I spoke. "I guess I'll be seeing you soon. I hope, for both our sakes, that it doesn't fuck up too horrifically."
With that I left the room, navigating my way though white washed hallways and glass walled offices. I exhaled heavily, running a hand through my hair. I prayed that Fletcher wouldn't cause too much trouble. But that was like asking for the resurrection.
He had a knack for pissing people off, and routinely caused trouble when he came to the firm, which in itself was a common occurrence. He was a family friend though, so of course father felt he owed him, and never charged him a penny. In recent months, he'd been referred to me rather than father. I now knew that the reason behind that was the merger, which was now in full effect.
I felt a low growl in my throat at the thought of it. I didn't want it to happen, and the only reason I hadn't flat out rejected it was the look of hope in my father's eyes. God damn him and his optimism. I knew it wouldn't work, and funnily enough so did Scorpius.
The growl grew louder at the thought of working with the brat. We'd gone to school together, same year, same tutor, and same classes... And we'd fought non-stop from start to finish.
My entire family hated his, and I'd followed in their footsteps and made no effort to be nice to the blonde. I felt horrible for doing it the first time. It'd seemed that he'd actually wanted to be friends if the look of shock and hurt on his eleven year old face when I sneered at his attempt to befriend me and asked why, exactly, I should be friends with a member of the infamous Malfoy family, known for practically shitting on those they deemed lower than themselves, son of the most heartless lawyer in England was anything to go by.
But the guilt soon vanished when after a second he sneered back, his eyes flashing and steely cold, and told me that he didn't really want to be friends with the son of Harry Potter, the most self-righteous prick on the face of the planet, who'd willing married into a most likely incestuous family of piss poor ginger freaks who probably used him for his money all along. I'd stared him down before muttering one last insult and turning on my heel, stalking to the back of the classroom and taking my seat.
It just got worse from there. Everything became a challenge, to be the best in the class, to be best at sport, to get on well with all the teachers, to be the best. End of. This resulted in sabotaging the others work, picking fights after test results came in and, more often than not, cheating in sport. Just little things like fixing the cricket ball and slide tackling in football, shoving in basketball and kicking in rugby. We never inflicted anything more than bloody noses, broken bones or a minor concussion on the other, and the majority came from sport so it wasn't investigated that thoroughly. We never got caught, ever. We'd get detentions for talking in class and the rest of it, but they never pinned the injuries of one on the other and I guess that's why our relationship is the way it is now. We were never told to leave the other alone, so we never have.
But it all ended when we went our separate ways for college and Uni. He went to Oxford and I to Cambridge, and then we transferred into our fathers firms. We, or certainly I, never thought in a million years that I'd end up working with him. I thought I'd left him behind in Year 11 on the last day of school, with a middle finger and a call of "have a shit life, Malfoy!".
But no, apparently fate thought otherwise.
I sighed, massaging my temples as I arrived at my office. I could see Fletcher eyeing up my cabinet of memorabilia and my pace quickened.
"Don't even think about it, Mundungus." I said coolly as I entered, taking a place behind my desk. "Paper work?"
"Yeah. Right here." He hurried over, dumping the pile of papers on my desk. I sighed, flicking through them and giving them the once over before signing the last page.
"Just do it right this time, okay?"
He nodded, "Got it, boss."
I nodded in reply, and he got the hint, swiftly leaving my office and disappearing down the hall. I leant back in my chair and closed my eyes, feeling the seed of a migraine setting down roots behind my eyeballs.
This was going to be a long year…