A/N
Hello and welcome to part 3, or Chapter 2, as it will be rather confusingly known. Read the first two parts first if you haven't already. A huge thank you if you reviewed, and an exhortation to review this time if you didn't. Disclaimer ... look, it's all hers, okay? I don't like it but that's the way it goes.
Chapter 2. In which the party gets underway, some old friends arrive, we find out what has been going on at Hogwarts, and Draco meets a mysterious stranger.
From his vantage point in the bushes beside the back patio, Draco could clearly see everything that was going on inside the house. He was surprised to learn that Hermione and Harry appeared to be throwing some sort of party, for more and more people kept arriving. They were standing round in the living room, drinking glasses of what looked like mulled mead, and making merry. There appeared to be no sign of Harry, although Hermione was circulating with a bowl of peanuts. He slowed down the action with his omnioculars to get a better view. There was Neville Longbottom, or at least, someone who looked very much like him, arm in arm with Ginny Weasley, of all people! Draco was disgusted. Even though they were both from pureblood families, Draco thought Neville would have had better taste, the Weasley clan was growing at an exponential rate these days, and was now so large it had its own quarterly newsletter. In the corner, seated by the fire was someone who looked like a very elderly version of Albus Dumbledore, talking animatedly and waving his cane at a younger man with dark hair, whom Draco thought he recognised. There was a large black dog dozing by the fire.
Draco was filled with an elated feeling. He had finally seen her. It had taken a while, but he had clapped eyes on her again. It must have been seven or eight years. She really hadn't changed much at all, though her hair was different. He smiled to himself.
A rustling in the bushes behind him disturbed his reverie. Quick as a flash, his wand was out.
"Lumos," he whispered. The wand's light cast an eerie glow through the undergrowth. Whatever had surprised him scuttled away, unseen. It was probably a badger, or maybe a gnome. All the same, Draco thought, perhaps I shouldn't outstay my welcome. It was not unlike Draco to get spooked easily ... some of the things he had seen and done would make an auror hide under the bedclothes with a torch. However for all his failings, he was not a stupid man, and he knew full well that he was not the world's most popular wizard either, and likely less popular still with the people in the house. There would be questions, most likely awkward ones, should he be caught. He had seen plenty, he knew where she lived, and surely that was enough for one night. It was time to go. He waved his wand again.
There was a rush of air, and a popping noise as he rearranged himself. The man crouched in the bushes vanished. For a second all was silent and still. Then a small, white ferret burst out of the shrubbery, streaking for all it was worth away from the house.
* * * * * * * * * * *
"What the hell was that?" asked Remus Lupin, staring out of the window, wine glass in hand.
"What was it?" Dumbledore asked.
"You didn't see it?"
"My eyes are failing," reminded Dumbledore, tapping his cane on the floor.
"Someone was rustling the bushes," said Remus, staring harder, trying to get a fix on whatever it was, "I think there's someone in the garden."
He was almost tempted to go out and look, but never got his chance, for he was waylaid by Hermione carrying a tray of canapés.
"Thank you dear," he said, restocking his plate, "Albus old fruit, canapé?"
"Whatever would I want one of those for?" Dumbledore exclaimed, "It isn't raining!"
Remus bent down nearer to the old Professor's ear, "No sir, a canapé. Something to eat."
"Something to eat? Don't mind if I do," his eyes flitted eagerly across the proffered plate, and he stretched out his bony fingers to take one of the cocktail sausages, "Thank you Harry my boy."
"I'm Hermione Professor."
"That's right Harry," said Dumbledore, "and the Weasley boy, where's he?"
"Ron isn't here yet Professor," said Hermione in her loud, speaking to deaf people voice, "I'll let you know when he arrives."
"Thank you Harry, now run along, and whatever you do, stay in Gryffindor Tower tonight."
"Yes Professor," said Hermione, "I'll do that," she smiled at Remus.
"He was never quite the same after he lost the Hogwarts job," Remus confided sadly, "I think he knew his time was up."
"It's probably for the best," said Hermione, "how is he these days?"
"He won't tell me," said Remus, "and I'm in and out every day. His arthritis has been playing him up again."
Dumbledore was taking tiny bites out of the sausage.
"Seen Hagrid?" Hermione asked, changing the subject.
Remus nodded, "Last time I saw him, he was having a peaceful enough retirement. He's aimless though, can't seem to find anything to occupy himself. I wouldn't be surprised if he starts breeding dragons again."
Hermione shuddered at the thought. She checked her watch again. Harry's absence was starting to worry her. His hand on the grandfather clock in the hall still pointed to Travelling, and Hermione had given it a sharp kick just to make sure it hadn't stopped again.
"Should Harry be here soon?" asked Remus, "I've something I want to give him."
"He should have been here an hour ago," said Hermione, "I'm worried about him. He's got the kids too."
Remus popped another canapé whole into his mouth, "I bet they'll have some stories to tell," he said, between chews.
"I know they will," said Hermione, "we've been getting owls non stop this term. Snape says they've done this, Snape says they've done that."
"Snape has been having a hard term," said Remus, "he still wants my job you see," one of Dumbledore's last acts as headmaster had been to re-appoint Remus as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.
"What else has been happening?" asked Hermione.
"Not a lot," Remus munched, "I'm sure William will tell you everything. He's kept us all on our toes you know, always up in my office on some trivial whatnot."
"I'm ever so sorry," blushed Hermione, "I'll have words with him."
"Don't bother," said Remus, "he's usually in on Snape's insistence, and it's always nice to see a new generation carrying the noble names of the Marauders into the future."
Hermione didn't approve of this at all, but she kept quiet, and smiled at Remus.
"Of course," Remus went on, "I can't punish the boy. I'm practically a relation."
"Don't feel you have to try and avoid it," said Hermione, who was now of the belief that William Potter was getting away with murder somewhere. To be fair after all, most of the times Harry and Ron had been in trouble with Snape, it had been mostly their fault. She would most certainly be having words with William when he got home. She detached herself from Remus, and circulated amongst the assembled company. Most of them had arrived by now. There were the Longbottoms, Ginny and Neville, Neville having come straight from his work, Remus and Dumbledore, obviously, Fred and George, Percy and Patricia and their teenage daughter Georgina, Mr and Mrs Weasley, and Hermione's own parents, who were standing in a corner by the undecorated Christmas tree, looking a little perturbed at the presence of all these strange people in robes. Sirius was there somewhere too, though Hermione couldn't see him.
There was the sound of car tyres crunching on gravel outside. Fred peered out of the window. A sleek, black Ford Mondeo had drawn up outside. Fred turned to Hermione.
"What car does Harry drive?" he asked.
"I think it's a BMW," said Hermione, "why?"
"That won't be him then," said Fred, "some car just arrived."
"Probably Ron if it isn't Harry," said Hermione, "let me see," she peered out of the window. Trunks were being unloaded from the boot of the car by shadowy figures.. Hermione caught a glimpse of Hedwig's ruffled feathers.
"That's Harry all right," said Hermione, "he must have borrowed a ministry car."
She ran out to the hall to open the front door. William's face was illuminated by the porch light as he struggled towards her, dragging his heavy school trunk.
"What's going on? What's with all the cars?" were his first words to her. Hermione enveloped her son in a bear hug. She had still not become used to having to send him off on the Hogwarts Express every term ... it was still a wrench, and she felt tears welling up in her eyes.
"Mmp, mm choking me!" squeaked William.
"So good to see you," whispered Hermione. She held the boy at arm's length, and surveyed him, "What happened to your glasses?"
"They got sat on," said William, "it's nothing."
"You should have got them repaired," said Hermione.
"It's nothing, honestly," protested William, "I'm fine, since you asked."
"Sorry love, it's just, I'm so pleased to see you again," she paused, "what have you done with your father?"
William looked around, "He's helping Andy and Mary with their trunks."
"It's good to know," said Hermione, craning to get a better view. Harry was carrying Mary's trunk for her, straining visibly at the effort.
"Good day?" she called.
Harry dropped the trunk on the front step, "Nah, it was pants," he said, "kiss please," Hermione obliged, releasing William. The Weasleys pushed past and disappeared into the house with him.
"How are they?" she asked.
"Not bad," said Harry, "Will isn't talking to me. Something I said."
"Did he want to stop for a burger?" asked Hermione.
Harry nodded, "Just as you predicted."
"You can't get them at Hogwarts," said Hermione, "I told you he'd miss them."
"Vile things," said Harry, "is everyone here? There are loads of cars outside."
Ever since the floo powder crisis, wizards all over the country had been reduced to using muggle transport, meaning many of them had been forced to learn to drive, a task at which they had not proved very adept. Ron had failed his driving test twice, the first time for hitting the kerb whilst reversing round a corner, and the second time for losing his temper and transfiguring the examiner into a small rabbit. Mr Weasley, on the other had taken to it like a duck to water, and was restoring a vintage Austin Healey in his back garden.
"We're just waiting for Ron and Fleur," said Hermione, "then we can start decorating the tree."
"Good, I've got some new stuff up my sleeve that the kids will love," said Harry.
They were interrupted by a cough. William was standing in the doorway to the living room, arms folded.
"What's up?" asked Harry.
"Mum, what's Professor Lupin doing in our living room?"
* * * * * * * * * * *
The door to the public bar of the Dog and Drainpipe swung open, admitting a gust of cold air, and a tall man with a limp. This did not disturb the muggle patrons, who were drinking heavily.
Draco swaggered over to the bar, trying hard not to look like he was doing anything other than having a casual drink. He took a stool at the bar.
"What'll be your pleasure young sir?" the barman asked.
"What's very strong?" asked Draco, uneasily shifting his weight on the stool ... he was unfamiliar with muggle pubs.
"You not from around here?" asked the barman.
Draco shook his head.
"Down from London?"
He nodded.
"You want to try our local brew. It's an acquired taste mind."
"I'll try one of those please," said Draco.
The barman shrugged, and set to drawing the pint. He observed Draco with some interest. In his long black travelling cloak, with red silk lining, he looked like he had got lost on his way to a Dracula convention, and his hair was frankly unearthly. He couldn't work out if he'd just overdone the bleach or what.
Draco, meanwhile, was running through the events of the evening in his mind. He had found Hermione at last. It was a major triumph. True, he had turned tail and fled at the slightest disturbance, but he contented himself in the knowledge that his father hadn't been around to witness the display of cowardice. Draco could plainly remember how cowardice had been dealt with in his childhood.
"Probably why I'm warped," he muttered under his breath.
"Say what?" said the barman, handing him his drink.
"Oh, nothing," said Draco.
"Please yourself."
Draco gave a start as he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked round, slowly. The hand gripping his shoulder belonged to a man in black hooded robes, at least, Draco assumed it was a man.
"Draco Malfoy?" the voice came. It sounded like chalk scraping on slate.
Draco nodded.
"I'd like a word with you."
Draco turned back to the barman, but he was frozen, in the middle of pouring a shot of whisky for a customer. The liquid was also frozen, caught in mid pour. Looking round the pub, Draco saw no movement at all. The patrons were all caught in mid action ... some reading papers, some throwing darts at the board on the wall, another watching the football game on TV. Even the players on screen had stopped moving, caught in the act of celebrating a goal. It was the ultimate slow motion replay.
"A simple trick," the voice said, "we can talk undisturbed."
"What have you done to them?" whispered Draco.
"I have merely ... slowed down time. They will have no memory of this. Now Draco, I have a proposition for you."
Draco tried to pick up his pint glass, but it was stuck to the bar top, "What do you want?"
"We have met before," said the stranger, "though perhaps you don't recognise me now."
"I don't recognise you at all," said Draco.
"But I recognised you straight away. You have changed, since last we met."
"I have no recollection," said Draco.
"Then you were a broken man, rejected by the world you thought had betrayed you, ready to end it all."
Draco felt uneasy. Was it possible he was talking about the bridge? That had been one of the darkest moments of his life.
"Who are you?" he breathed.
"My name is not important. There are many," the man went on, "who would not dare speak it."
Draco froze. Despite all the perverse values his father had tried to instil within him, a chill of fear swept up his spine.
"Not..."
The man evidently knew what he was about to say, for he chuckled, "No," he said, "not him. I see your years in Azkaban have not changed you. You always were a suspicious little ferret."
"What do you know about ferrets?" hissed Draco.
"There is very little of your life that I do not know Draco. When first you drew breath ... I was there, when you went to school ... I was there, all your humiliations, all your triumphs ... I was always there Draco. I was even there ... when you killed that muggle."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Come now Draco. Cowardice is not a desirable trait in a Malfoy. It sullies the bloodline, and I would not like to see that happen."
"What do you want with me?" Draco whispered.
"It is simple. You have ... information I need, I have ... things that you do."
"What things?"
"Weren't you always hungry for influence? Isn't that why you befriended Crabbe and Goyle?"
"I may have been. But I moved on."
"Come now Draco. What a man wants and feels in his heart can never change. However much he may deny it. I always knew that, and look at me, I was destroyed, I was a broken man, rejected by my family, just like you. But I found one who could give me the power I lusted for, one who had given it to me before, and would give it me again."
Draco shivered in his grip.
"Now, I take it we can do business Draco. It is simple. I want you to deliver one to me."
"One what?"
"Just one person. I want him ... to make me complete. You, I feel, can get close to him. You know him. In turn, I can satisfy your need for power."
"Who?" asked Draco.
"You may remember him, you were at school together. You could say he was your nemesis, the Moriarty to your Holmes, the Lex Luthor to your Superman."
"Potter?"
"No, not he," the man went on.
A/N That's it. Ha! I cliff hangered you all! In the next chapter. Will Hermione's dinner be well received? Where the hell are Ron and Fleur? What has happened to the other Potter child? And whom does the mysterious stranger want delivered to him? What is more, will Draco agree to help? I disclaimed already but I'll do it again, this is all JK's, apart from William, Andy and Mary, who belong to me. The mysterious stranger might belong to me too, I'm giving nothing away. If you have enjoyed this part, please review with your ideas for exactly where this could go, as well as ideas for a better title than Redemption, which I now think sucks. It's always a pleasure to find out what people think, and I'll take into account all your views. 'Till next time!
Hello and welcome to part 3, or Chapter 2, as it will be rather confusingly known. Read the first two parts first if you haven't already. A huge thank you if you reviewed, and an exhortation to review this time if you didn't. Disclaimer ... look, it's all hers, okay? I don't like it but that's the way it goes.
Chapter 2. In which the party gets underway, some old friends arrive, we find out what has been going on at Hogwarts, and Draco meets a mysterious stranger.
From his vantage point in the bushes beside the back patio, Draco could clearly see everything that was going on inside the house. He was surprised to learn that Hermione and Harry appeared to be throwing some sort of party, for more and more people kept arriving. They were standing round in the living room, drinking glasses of what looked like mulled mead, and making merry. There appeared to be no sign of Harry, although Hermione was circulating with a bowl of peanuts. He slowed down the action with his omnioculars to get a better view. There was Neville Longbottom, or at least, someone who looked very much like him, arm in arm with Ginny Weasley, of all people! Draco was disgusted. Even though they were both from pureblood families, Draco thought Neville would have had better taste, the Weasley clan was growing at an exponential rate these days, and was now so large it had its own quarterly newsletter. In the corner, seated by the fire was someone who looked like a very elderly version of Albus Dumbledore, talking animatedly and waving his cane at a younger man with dark hair, whom Draco thought he recognised. There was a large black dog dozing by the fire.
Draco was filled with an elated feeling. He had finally seen her. It had taken a while, but he had clapped eyes on her again. It must have been seven or eight years. She really hadn't changed much at all, though her hair was different. He smiled to himself.
A rustling in the bushes behind him disturbed his reverie. Quick as a flash, his wand was out.
"Lumos," he whispered. The wand's light cast an eerie glow through the undergrowth. Whatever had surprised him scuttled away, unseen. It was probably a badger, or maybe a gnome. All the same, Draco thought, perhaps I shouldn't outstay my welcome. It was not unlike Draco to get spooked easily ... some of the things he had seen and done would make an auror hide under the bedclothes with a torch. However for all his failings, he was not a stupid man, and he knew full well that he was not the world's most popular wizard either, and likely less popular still with the people in the house. There would be questions, most likely awkward ones, should he be caught. He had seen plenty, he knew where she lived, and surely that was enough for one night. It was time to go. He waved his wand again.
There was a rush of air, and a popping noise as he rearranged himself. The man crouched in the bushes vanished. For a second all was silent and still. Then a small, white ferret burst out of the shrubbery, streaking for all it was worth away from the house.
* * * * * * * * * * *
"What the hell was that?" asked Remus Lupin, staring out of the window, wine glass in hand.
"What was it?" Dumbledore asked.
"You didn't see it?"
"My eyes are failing," reminded Dumbledore, tapping his cane on the floor.
"Someone was rustling the bushes," said Remus, staring harder, trying to get a fix on whatever it was, "I think there's someone in the garden."
He was almost tempted to go out and look, but never got his chance, for he was waylaid by Hermione carrying a tray of canapés.
"Thank you dear," he said, restocking his plate, "Albus old fruit, canapé?"
"Whatever would I want one of those for?" Dumbledore exclaimed, "It isn't raining!"
Remus bent down nearer to the old Professor's ear, "No sir, a canapé. Something to eat."
"Something to eat? Don't mind if I do," his eyes flitted eagerly across the proffered plate, and he stretched out his bony fingers to take one of the cocktail sausages, "Thank you Harry my boy."
"I'm Hermione Professor."
"That's right Harry," said Dumbledore, "and the Weasley boy, where's he?"
"Ron isn't here yet Professor," said Hermione in her loud, speaking to deaf people voice, "I'll let you know when he arrives."
"Thank you Harry, now run along, and whatever you do, stay in Gryffindor Tower tonight."
"Yes Professor," said Hermione, "I'll do that," she smiled at Remus.
"He was never quite the same after he lost the Hogwarts job," Remus confided sadly, "I think he knew his time was up."
"It's probably for the best," said Hermione, "how is he these days?"
"He won't tell me," said Remus, "and I'm in and out every day. His arthritis has been playing him up again."
Dumbledore was taking tiny bites out of the sausage.
"Seen Hagrid?" Hermione asked, changing the subject.
Remus nodded, "Last time I saw him, he was having a peaceful enough retirement. He's aimless though, can't seem to find anything to occupy himself. I wouldn't be surprised if he starts breeding dragons again."
Hermione shuddered at the thought. She checked her watch again. Harry's absence was starting to worry her. His hand on the grandfather clock in the hall still pointed to Travelling, and Hermione had given it a sharp kick just to make sure it hadn't stopped again.
"Should Harry be here soon?" asked Remus, "I've something I want to give him."
"He should have been here an hour ago," said Hermione, "I'm worried about him. He's got the kids too."
Remus popped another canapé whole into his mouth, "I bet they'll have some stories to tell," he said, between chews.
"I know they will," said Hermione, "we've been getting owls non stop this term. Snape says they've done this, Snape says they've done that."
"Snape has been having a hard term," said Remus, "he still wants my job you see," one of Dumbledore's last acts as headmaster had been to re-appoint Remus as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.
"What else has been happening?" asked Hermione.
"Not a lot," Remus munched, "I'm sure William will tell you everything. He's kept us all on our toes you know, always up in my office on some trivial whatnot."
"I'm ever so sorry," blushed Hermione, "I'll have words with him."
"Don't bother," said Remus, "he's usually in on Snape's insistence, and it's always nice to see a new generation carrying the noble names of the Marauders into the future."
Hermione didn't approve of this at all, but she kept quiet, and smiled at Remus.
"Of course," Remus went on, "I can't punish the boy. I'm practically a relation."
"Don't feel you have to try and avoid it," said Hermione, who was now of the belief that William Potter was getting away with murder somewhere. To be fair after all, most of the times Harry and Ron had been in trouble with Snape, it had been mostly their fault. She would most certainly be having words with William when he got home. She detached herself from Remus, and circulated amongst the assembled company. Most of them had arrived by now. There were the Longbottoms, Ginny and Neville, Neville having come straight from his work, Remus and Dumbledore, obviously, Fred and George, Percy and Patricia and their teenage daughter Georgina, Mr and Mrs Weasley, and Hermione's own parents, who were standing in a corner by the undecorated Christmas tree, looking a little perturbed at the presence of all these strange people in robes. Sirius was there somewhere too, though Hermione couldn't see him.
There was the sound of car tyres crunching on gravel outside. Fred peered out of the window. A sleek, black Ford Mondeo had drawn up outside. Fred turned to Hermione.
"What car does Harry drive?" he asked.
"I think it's a BMW," said Hermione, "why?"
"That won't be him then," said Fred, "some car just arrived."
"Probably Ron if it isn't Harry," said Hermione, "let me see," she peered out of the window. Trunks were being unloaded from the boot of the car by shadowy figures.. Hermione caught a glimpse of Hedwig's ruffled feathers.
"That's Harry all right," said Hermione, "he must have borrowed a ministry car."
She ran out to the hall to open the front door. William's face was illuminated by the porch light as he struggled towards her, dragging his heavy school trunk.
"What's going on? What's with all the cars?" were his first words to her. Hermione enveloped her son in a bear hug. She had still not become used to having to send him off on the Hogwarts Express every term ... it was still a wrench, and she felt tears welling up in her eyes.
"Mmp, mm choking me!" squeaked William.
"So good to see you," whispered Hermione. She held the boy at arm's length, and surveyed him, "What happened to your glasses?"
"They got sat on," said William, "it's nothing."
"You should have got them repaired," said Hermione.
"It's nothing, honestly," protested William, "I'm fine, since you asked."
"Sorry love, it's just, I'm so pleased to see you again," she paused, "what have you done with your father?"
William looked around, "He's helping Andy and Mary with their trunks."
"It's good to know," said Hermione, craning to get a better view. Harry was carrying Mary's trunk for her, straining visibly at the effort.
"Good day?" she called.
Harry dropped the trunk on the front step, "Nah, it was pants," he said, "kiss please," Hermione obliged, releasing William. The Weasleys pushed past and disappeared into the house with him.
"How are they?" she asked.
"Not bad," said Harry, "Will isn't talking to me. Something I said."
"Did he want to stop for a burger?" asked Hermione.
Harry nodded, "Just as you predicted."
"You can't get them at Hogwarts," said Hermione, "I told you he'd miss them."
"Vile things," said Harry, "is everyone here? There are loads of cars outside."
Ever since the floo powder crisis, wizards all over the country had been reduced to using muggle transport, meaning many of them had been forced to learn to drive, a task at which they had not proved very adept. Ron had failed his driving test twice, the first time for hitting the kerb whilst reversing round a corner, and the second time for losing his temper and transfiguring the examiner into a small rabbit. Mr Weasley, on the other had taken to it like a duck to water, and was restoring a vintage Austin Healey in his back garden.
"We're just waiting for Ron and Fleur," said Hermione, "then we can start decorating the tree."
"Good, I've got some new stuff up my sleeve that the kids will love," said Harry.
They were interrupted by a cough. William was standing in the doorway to the living room, arms folded.
"What's up?" asked Harry.
"Mum, what's Professor Lupin doing in our living room?"
* * * * * * * * * * *
The door to the public bar of the Dog and Drainpipe swung open, admitting a gust of cold air, and a tall man with a limp. This did not disturb the muggle patrons, who were drinking heavily.
Draco swaggered over to the bar, trying hard not to look like he was doing anything other than having a casual drink. He took a stool at the bar.
"What'll be your pleasure young sir?" the barman asked.
"What's very strong?" asked Draco, uneasily shifting his weight on the stool ... he was unfamiliar with muggle pubs.
"You not from around here?" asked the barman.
Draco shook his head.
"Down from London?"
He nodded.
"You want to try our local brew. It's an acquired taste mind."
"I'll try one of those please," said Draco.
The barman shrugged, and set to drawing the pint. He observed Draco with some interest. In his long black travelling cloak, with red silk lining, he looked like he had got lost on his way to a Dracula convention, and his hair was frankly unearthly. He couldn't work out if he'd just overdone the bleach or what.
Draco, meanwhile, was running through the events of the evening in his mind. He had found Hermione at last. It was a major triumph. True, he had turned tail and fled at the slightest disturbance, but he contented himself in the knowledge that his father hadn't been around to witness the display of cowardice. Draco could plainly remember how cowardice had been dealt with in his childhood.
"Probably why I'm warped," he muttered under his breath.
"Say what?" said the barman, handing him his drink.
"Oh, nothing," said Draco.
"Please yourself."
Draco gave a start as he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked round, slowly. The hand gripping his shoulder belonged to a man in black hooded robes, at least, Draco assumed it was a man.
"Draco Malfoy?" the voice came. It sounded like chalk scraping on slate.
Draco nodded.
"I'd like a word with you."
Draco turned back to the barman, but he was frozen, in the middle of pouring a shot of whisky for a customer. The liquid was also frozen, caught in mid pour. Looking round the pub, Draco saw no movement at all. The patrons were all caught in mid action ... some reading papers, some throwing darts at the board on the wall, another watching the football game on TV. Even the players on screen had stopped moving, caught in the act of celebrating a goal. It was the ultimate slow motion replay.
"A simple trick," the voice said, "we can talk undisturbed."
"What have you done to them?" whispered Draco.
"I have merely ... slowed down time. They will have no memory of this. Now Draco, I have a proposition for you."
Draco tried to pick up his pint glass, but it was stuck to the bar top, "What do you want?"
"We have met before," said the stranger, "though perhaps you don't recognise me now."
"I don't recognise you at all," said Draco.
"But I recognised you straight away. You have changed, since last we met."
"I have no recollection," said Draco.
"Then you were a broken man, rejected by the world you thought had betrayed you, ready to end it all."
Draco felt uneasy. Was it possible he was talking about the bridge? That had been one of the darkest moments of his life.
"Who are you?" he breathed.
"My name is not important. There are many," the man went on, "who would not dare speak it."
Draco froze. Despite all the perverse values his father had tried to instil within him, a chill of fear swept up his spine.
"Not..."
The man evidently knew what he was about to say, for he chuckled, "No," he said, "not him. I see your years in Azkaban have not changed you. You always were a suspicious little ferret."
"What do you know about ferrets?" hissed Draco.
"There is very little of your life that I do not know Draco. When first you drew breath ... I was there, when you went to school ... I was there, all your humiliations, all your triumphs ... I was always there Draco. I was even there ... when you killed that muggle."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Come now Draco. Cowardice is not a desirable trait in a Malfoy. It sullies the bloodline, and I would not like to see that happen."
"What do you want with me?" Draco whispered.
"It is simple. You have ... information I need, I have ... things that you do."
"What things?"
"Weren't you always hungry for influence? Isn't that why you befriended Crabbe and Goyle?"
"I may have been. But I moved on."
"Come now Draco. What a man wants and feels in his heart can never change. However much he may deny it. I always knew that, and look at me, I was destroyed, I was a broken man, rejected by my family, just like you. But I found one who could give me the power I lusted for, one who had given it to me before, and would give it me again."
Draco shivered in his grip.
"Now, I take it we can do business Draco. It is simple. I want you to deliver one to me."
"One what?"
"Just one person. I want him ... to make me complete. You, I feel, can get close to him. You know him. In turn, I can satisfy your need for power."
"Who?" asked Draco.
"You may remember him, you were at school together. You could say he was your nemesis, the Moriarty to your Holmes, the Lex Luthor to your Superman."
"Potter?"
"No, not he," the man went on.
A/N That's it. Ha! I cliff hangered you all! In the next chapter. Will Hermione's dinner be well received? Where the hell are Ron and Fleur? What has happened to the other Potter child? And whom does the mysterious stranger want delivered to him? What is more, will Draco agree to help? I disclaimed already but I'll do it again, this is all JK's, apart from William, Andy and Mary, who belong to me. The mysterious stranger might belong to me too, I'm giving nothing away. If you have enjoyed this part, please review with your ideas for exactly where this could go, as well as ideas for a better title than Redemption, which I now think sucks. It's always a pleasure to find out what people think, and I'll take into account all your views. 'Till next time!