Disclaimer: They haven't become mine since the last chapter. Oh, well.
A/N: Wondering who's who in this story? Stick around. :)
Chapter 2: Next Stop, Hogsmeade
Upon leaving the Leaky Cauldron, Draco headed immediately for the Apparition point. It was still the most efficient mode of travel, even with the heavy regulations. Apparating directly into or out of a Wizarding or semi-Wizarding village was expressly forbidden, as it had been for the last fifteen years. There were Apparition points outside of each village from which one had to walk or fly to enter the village proper.
Draco Apparated to a place about a half-hour's walk from Hogsmeade and cast a quick cooling charm. It had been a mild summer so far, but the sun was bright, and he didn't want to ruin the impression he would make by arriving drenched in sweat. Besides, it was unbecoming for someone of his (all right, former) stature to look like he'd been out hauling heavy loads.
Draco enjoyed the leisurely stroll, taking time to plan his course of action. He had more or less decided that this would be his Big One, probably his last time as the Vanishing Salesman. He'd started this venture some ten years prior, mostly out of boredom.
After the war, his family wasn't exactly welcomed in their community. His parents, after smooth-talking their way out of Azkaban (something, if Draco recalled correctly, about his mother and doing a life-saving turn for the Damned Boy Who Wouldn't Just Die Already), decided they needed to improve their reputation. Thus began a series of investments and charitable giving designed to cause the wizarding world to look more favourably upon the Malfoy name.
Meanwhile, Draco had drifted a bit. He hadn't been entirely certain what to do with his adult life. Along with his year-mates, he had been excused from N.E.W.T.s. Most of the others had been given offers for work, some of them immediately. Potter and the Weasel had been all over the papers because they'd been allowed to accelerate their Auror training. But not much was open to Draco.
He had tried out for professional Quidditch, but he hadn't made it. No one had said it, but he knew it had nothing to do with his skill. Disappointed, he returned home and fell into the role of keeping records for his parents' charities.
After several years of this, he grew bored. Blaise Zabini, who was nearly always up to something, made him an offer he couldn't refuse. They went into 'business' together, making a bit of money with their con games.
The thrill was invigorating. Draco had kept it up, even after Blaise retired. Last Draco knew, Blaise had settled down, but he wasn't sure where because Blaise had been determined to make a clean break. It didn't really matter; Draco was happy to keep pushing the limits of what he could get away with.
Draco entered the business district of Hogsmeade. It was much as he had remembered it, though he hadn't been there for over fifteen years. He couldn't shake the slightly sick feeling in his stomach as his eyes scanned the familiar buildings. Even though his ban had been lifted, and he was safely hidden by the glamour, it still made him shudder to think what Rosemerta might do if she knew who he was.
Draco sought out the Hog's Head. He had been pleased to learn that old Aberforth had retired. The man had been more than a little creepy, and Draco was certain that he would be no more welcome in Aberforth's company than in Rosmerta's.
The pub was now fully accommodating, like the Leaky Cauldron. He was impressed with the work that had been done to the place. With confidence, he stepped inside.
Draco approached the bar, looking for the proprietor. He hadn't heard who had taken over after Aberforth sold the place. When Draco saw who it was, he was momentarily taken off guard. There, reclining behind the bar, feet propped up and the Prophet in hand, was Blaise Zabini. Draco smiled to himself. Oh, this was far too easy.
He pulled out his wand and wordlessly bound and gagged Blaise. Quickly, Draco hauled Blaise into the kitchen behind the bar and shut the door. Once inside, he released the spells.
"What the hell?" Blaise, mouth now free, yelled.
"Shut up!" Draco hissed. "Blaise, it's me, Draco."
Blaise appeared to be struggling between rage and incredulity. He settled on rage and lunged at Draco, who held him off easily with a muttered spell.
"Stop fighting; you're making it worse," Draco told him calmly.
Blaise, panting and flushed with anger, glared at him. "I don't know what you're playing at, but this is one sick joke," he said at last.
"No joke, I promise. It's really me."
"If you're Draco, then you'll know the code name of the last product we sold together," Blaise said, folding his arms across his chest.
"Of course. 'Wet whiskers'."
Blaise's eyes widened in shock, his mouth dropping open. After a pause, he launched himself at Draco, grabbing him in a fierce bear hug. Laughing, he shouted, "It is you!"
Draco motioned for him to be quiet. "No one else is to know it's me, got it? I'm here for the big one this time, the one that will let me retire in peace."
"You? Retire? That'll be the day. What will you do, go back to Mummy and Daddy, and file their parchments again?"
"Never you mind about that. For now, all I need is for you to keep quiet about who I really am. And maybe a couple other things as well."
Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"
Draco shook his head. "Not here. Somewhere we can talk?"
"All right, fine. How about we discuss this in my office? I can fill you in on things there," Blaise said. "Business is usually slow this time of day, so we shouldn't be interrupted. But I don't have long, as there's no one to manage things down here. My wife won't be home again for a few days."
Draco nodded and followed Blaise back out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He had to admit, this was opportune. He hadn't expected to run into anyone he knew, let alone the one person who might be of use to him. He decided not to waste his chance. Knowing Blaise, there was quite a lot he could do for Draco.
Once inside the office, Blaise began setting out glasses and pouring drinks. Draco watched him in silence, considering. Something occurred to him.
"Why won't your wife be home for a few days?" he asked suspiciously.
Without turning around from the cupboard, Blaise said, "Ginny's a professional Quidditch player. She's away most of the time."
Draco nearly choked. There was only one Ginny he knew. Oh, dear God.
"Please tell me you didn't marry the Weaselette," he said.
Blaise plunked down a plate of biscuits and a pot of tea before flinging himself into the chair opposite Draco. "Don't call her that."
Oh, Lord.
"You did, didn't you?"
Blaise shrugged. "I got to know her. She's not the same person we knew in school. Hell, I'm not the same. I will thank you to stop speaking of Ginny so rudely."
Draco rolled his eyes, but he nodded. For the sake of the help he would have to forgo if he wasn't polite, of course.
"So you married Ginny Weasley. Wasn't she supposed to marry Potter and make lots of little ginger babies?"
Blaise burst out laughing. "Draco, do you ever read the papers? There's a very good reason Potter didn't marry her. I can't believe you missed that."
Draco snorted. He had expressly avoided reading most of what was in the papers over the last fifteen years. Too much of it was about Potter, dead people, Potter, his family's disgrace, and Potter. He didn't really care to know what sorts of things the Conquering Hero did in his spare time.
"Well, believe it. I don't read the papers." Draco took a tentative sip of tea.
"Potter didn't marry Ginny because he's not into women."
This time, Draco did choke, spewing tea across Blaise's table. When he finished his coughing fit, he growled in frustration at his overreaction. Big deal; so Potter was gay. Whatever.
He glanced up at Blaise, ready to apologise for making a mess. He immediately regretted it. Blaise was smirking.
"Thought that might get your attention."
"Git," Draco said.
Blaise laughed outright. "You asked."
"I did not!" Draco huffed. This was not going as he had intended. "Forget Potter. Can we get to more important things, please? Like how you're going to help me while I'm here?"
Blaise shrugged. "Fine. What do you need me to do?"
"First of all, you need to make sure you don't blow my cover. I'm going by the name of Todd Hadley, and I'm selling flight school."
"That's a new one," Blaise commented.
"Yes. Got the idea from a catalogue, actually, from an ad for stunt brooms."
"Ah, yeah, that's coming back in style these days. What else do you need?"
"I need an angle, a reason they want to sign their kid up and buy a broomstick and a uniform."
"You don't have one yet? That's bad form, mate."
"No," Draco said, annoyed that Blaise was questioning his judgement. "I've taken to that the last few years. It always works better when you feel out the villagers, see what's going on in their lives. Makes it personal."
"Well, you may be out of luck then. It's pretty quiet around here in the summer."
Draco pondered. "Maybe that's part of it, then. Don't the kids get bored?"
"Nah. They do pretty well for themselves. Some of the older ones like to organise games. Last week, a bunch of them were playing a Muggle sport called 'football'. It didn't look too interesting, but they seemed content."
"Ugh, Muggle sports?" Draco wrinkled his nose. "I could use that, I suppose. Too much free time leads to experimenting with Muggle activities."
"Maybe, but you'll be hard-pressed to get the villagers to see that kicking a ball around a field is going to lead them into perdition." He sighed heavily. "Muggle games aren't really the problem, anyway."
"So there is a problem."
Blaise leaned back, tipped his head toward the ceiling, and closed his eyes. He stayed that way for several minutes. He didn't seem sure how to continue. At last, he opened his eyes, looked at Draco, and said, "Hogsmeade hasn't been the same since the War."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Care to explain?"
"It's a tomb, except when Hogwarts is in session and the students come here. A lot of people left because they thought they'd be safer somewhere else. Those that are left still don't trust anyone." Blaise frowned. "There's no life here."
"Well, that's a start." Draco nodded thoughtfully. "Who do I need to convince first?"
"I think maybe you should check out the Sliver Quill. The proprietor is just the person you're looking for. He's also the person with the most local influence." Blaise sniggered. "Just don't say I didn't warn you."
Draco sighed. "Fine. Take me into town and introduce me."
"Oh, trust me. You won't need me for that. But do give him my regards."
Draco really didn't like to smug look on Blaise's face.