Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than the story line . All rights belong to J.K. Rowling

Chapter Eight

Harry sighed as he entered his apartment building to make his way up to his flat. He shut the outer door behind him and turned to walk to the lift when he noticed the only other occupant in the foyer with him. It was one of the young hoodlums that had been with Draco Malfoy at Xavier Blott's house that morning. The thug rose from the chair he was sitting in and flicked a faggot butt into a potted palm. He thrust his hand into the opening of his coat as he made his way towards Harry.

"Well, well," the hood started. "If it ain't the Devil himself. The boss wants to talk to you."

"What about?" Harry asked wearily.

"What do you care, shamus?" the thug replied with a sneer. "Just keep your nose clean. Let the boss do all the thinking and ask the questions."

Harry dropped his hand into his side pocket. "I'm too tired to talk. Too tired to think, actually, but if you think I'm too tired to refuse to take orders from Draco Malfoy – try getting the fuck out of here before I hex that good ear off."

The thug thought for a moment. He was a large, simple looking man, and the effort he put into considering Harry's words was almost comical. "A comedian, huh?"

"Yeah, I'm going to die laughing in about a minute," Harry remarked dryly.

The goon looked baffled. "But you ain't got no wand," he said. "Or have you forgot about this morning?"

"That was this morning you overgrown baboon," Harry growled. "I'm not always unarmed."

The thug stared at Harry for a while longer, then he waved his hand airily. "Alright, hot shot! You win, but don't let it go to your head, see?" He moved towards the door. "You'll hear from us."

"Too late will be too soon," Harry murmured. He watched the hooligan exit and cross the street. Harry watched him until he disappeared and then, his lip twisted in contempt, he crossed to the lift and headed up to his flat.

He entered his flat and snapped on a light, tossing his hat on the bed. He took his wand from his pocket and set it on the table beneath the lamp. Crossing to a bookcase, he pulled a bottle of gin from one of the shelves and headed for the kitchen to get a glass.

He poured himself a double shot and sat at the kitchen table and took a pull off of it. As he set the glass down on the table the phone rang. He got up with a sigh and answered it.

"Potter," he said simply.

"So you're tough tonight," came the aristocratic drawl of Draco Malfoy.

"Sleepy too. What can I do for you Mr. Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"Auror's over there – you know where, did you keep me out of it?"

"What do you think?" Harry replied.

"Listen, flatfoot, I'm nice to be nice to," Malfory snarked.

"You listen," Harry barked. "Maybe you'll hear my teeth chattering."

Malfoy laughed. "Did you – or didn't you?"

"I did," Harry responded. "I don't know why, but I did."

"Thanks, who gunned him?"

"Somebody you've never heard of, let it go at that," Harry replied, already tiring of the conversation.

"If that's on the level," Draco drawled, "someday, I may be able to do you a favor."

"You can now," Harry muttered. "Hang up and let me go to bed." He let out a loud yawn.

Malfoy laughed again. "You're looking for Malcolm Baddock, aren't you?"

"Everybody seems to think I am," Harry replied, "but I'm not."

"If you were, I could give you an idea," Malfoy said. "Drive up to the club and see me, any time."

"Thanks."

"Be seeing you then, Potter," Draco said. The line went dead. Harry put the receiver down slowly and sat for a moment in thoughtful contemplation. He pulled out a faggot and put it to his lips and lit a match. The phone started to ring. He swished out the match and stared at the phone. He pulled a dish cloth out of the sink and threw it over the phone, muffling it. He rose and threw the fag unlit onto the table and began to loosen his tie. He walked off as the phone kept ringing. With a wave of his hand the light shut off, leaving the room in darkness as the phone continued to ring.

*0*0*

Harry found himself in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Bureau of Missing Persons, sitting at the desk of a Captain Arthur Weasley. He was a tall thin, balding man with lightly graying red hair. He had the look of a tired bureaucrat, and Harry hoped that he wouldn't give him too much of a hard time. He was frankly tiring of the treatment he had been getting on this case.

Weasley spent a lot of time looking over Harry's credentials. "Private Investigator, eh? Work with Muggles much?" he asked, his voice rising in hope. He deflated somewhat at Harry's shrug. "What can I do for you today?"

"I'm working for General Mark Greengrass. Robards knows him." Harry responded.

"I know who he is too," Weasley said. "Did Robards send you here?"

"Isn't your information available to anyone, unless it's a homicide matter?" Harry asked.

"Did Robards send you here?" Captain Weasley repeated.

"No."

"Did he know you were coming?" he asked.

Harry paused for a moment and pulled out a fag. "Mind if I smoke?" he asked.

"Go ahead," Weasley replied.

"Thanks," Harry said as he lit up.

"What do you want?" Weasley asked.

"I want to know what became of a man named Malcolm Baddock, who used to work for General Greengrass," Harry replied.

"I don't know where he is," Weasley said. "He disappeared one day and never reappeared."

"Will you give me what you have got on him?" Harry asked.

Weasley rang a bell. The door opened and a middle aged woman entered. "Get me the file on Malcolm Baddock," he said to her. The woman exited. Weasley pulled out a charred old pipe and dug tobacco dottle deliberately from it. He pulled out a pouch to fill it when the secretary came back in a set an official file on his desk. He put the pipe down, put on a pair of glasses and opened the file.

"He disappeared on the sixteenth of September. No one reported it. We got into it by finding the car. It was the chauffeur's day off, so nobody at the Greengrass estate saw Baddock take the car out of the garage. We found the car four days later in a garage belonging to a ritzy bungalow court in Notting Hill. The garage man reported it to the thefts office; said it didn't belong there. We couldn't find who it belonged to."

"And of course Draco Malfoy's wife couldn't tell you, because she had disappeared as well," Harry muttered.

Weasley glared at him for a moment. "If you knew so much already, why did you come to me?"

"Sorry," Harry apologized. "Go ahead."

"So you've been talking some to General Greengrass about Baddock."

"Why not?" Harry asked. "You just said that nobody has accused anybody of a crime yet."

"Yes," Weasley admitted. "Mrs. Malfoy was gone too, disappeared within two days of the day that Baddock's car was left in the garage."

"What are the angles?" Harry asked.

"Mrs. Malfoy lived in the flat that the garage belonged to. Baddock was known to carry a lot of galleons, fifteen grand worth at all times…"

"Yes, I'd heard that," Harry said.

"It doesn't seem to have been any secret that Baddock fancied Malfoy's wife," Weasley commented.

"So it looks like they went off together," Harry said absently.

"Baddock had fifteen grand in cash with him. Mrs. Malfoy had some gems, and a car of her own – making two cars available. Everything disappeared but one of the cars."

"What did she look like?" Harry asked. "Have you a photograph?"

"No," Weasley said. "She was a platinum blonde. She probably shan't be now, though."

"What was she before she married Malfoy?"

"One hot mamma," Weasley said with a sigh.

"Maybe she isn't anything now," Harry mused. "Maybe neither of them are."

"You're thinking of Draco Malfoy," Weasley said. "You're wrong. Malfoy's a business man, and a good one. Jealousy's a luxury – murdering for it, at least – that a man like Draco Malfoy knows he can't afford."

"So, as far as you're concerned," Harry said, "Malfoy is out of it?"

"Malfoy is out," Weasley stated. "And, until something more turns up, so are we…"

Harry rose from his seat. "And so am I, it looks like," he said. "There's no law on my book either that says a man with fifteen grand can't run off with a woman he fancies." He shook Captain Weasley's hand and turned to the door. "Thanks," he said.

"Not at all," he older man said as he closed the file. "Give my best to Robards."

"I will," Harry replied with a snicker. He exited the office, making his way to an apparition point.

*0*0*

Harry apparated back to his car and got in with a smile. He really did love his car. As he drove off a mini cooper pulled out behind him. After a few moments Harry spotted the car in his rear-view and a sardonic smile formed on his face. He made sure to keep the mini in sight. He went back to his office in Greenwich.

He walked in, finding Filch waiting for him. He closed the door and faced the aged butler. "Good morning, Filch," he said.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," Filch said as he rose.

"How's the General this morning?" Harry asked.

"Not so well, sir," Filch said. "I – ah…"

"Yeah?" Harry asked. "What's on your mind?"

"I read the Daily Prophet to him this morning," Filch said. "From – ah – certain items we assumed that your investigation is now complete."

"Yes," Harry replied, "as far as Blott is concerned anyway. I didn't shoot him, though."

"Quite so, sir," Filch said.

"I guess you've come for the debris," Harry said.

"The debris, sir?" Filch asked.

Harry crossed to the other door. "This way."

The entered Harry's inner office. Harry went over to the desk and took out a bunch of papers. He evened them and put them in an envelope. "There you are, three notes, and the card." He handed them to Filch.

"Thank you sir," Filch said steadily. "Mrs. Belby tried several to ring you last night…"

"I know," Harry replied. "I was busy getting ignoring it."

"Quite so, sir," Filch said as he put the envelope into his breast pocket. He drew out a check. "The General instructed me to hand this to you." He handed it to Harry. "Will it be satisfactory?"

Harry glanced at it, then folded it and put it in his own pocket. "Five hundred? Quite," he said.

"And we may now consider the entire incident closed?" Filch asked. He seemed curiously insistent.

"Sure," Harry said easily. "Tight as a high security vault at Gringott's."

"Thank you, sir," Filch said. "We all appreciate it. When the General is feeling better, he shall thank you himself."

"Fine," Harry said with a smile. "I'll come out and drink some more of your brandy, maybe with champagne."

"I'll see to it that some is properly iced," Filch replied as he moved to depart. Harry watched his back as the elderly man left. He pulled out the check and opened it slowly. He looked at it in speculation. "Completely closed," he mused, "completely closed…"

He got up and put the check into his wallet. Moving over to the phone he dialed a number he had looked up earlier in the day.

"Hello… let me speak to Draco Malfoy," he said into the phone. "Sure, tell Draco that Harry Potter's on the line. I'll wait…" He tapped his foot to a nameless tune as he waited. "Hello, Draco. I want to see you. I'll drive up tonight… thanks."

*0*0*

Harry walked into the club and checked his hat and coat with the girl. Malfoy's two goon-like bodyguards approached him.

"Hello," Harry said jauntily. "How's the intimidation business up here?"

"Better," the heavy set goon said blandly. "We don't have so many amateurs around."

"Not amateurs," Harry said, "just suckers, huh?"

The guard chose to ignore him. "This way." He motioned for Harry to follow him.

Harry was shown into an office which well furnished in a suave, restrained fashion. It screamed of money. Well, Draco Malfoy was rich, after all, Harry thought. Malfoy stood as Harry entered the room and offered his hand. Harry shook it, wondering what kind of reaction he would get if he leaned over and kissed it.

"Took you a long time to get here, didn't it?" Malfoy asked.

"I shouldn't be here now, except that you hinted you had something for me," Harry replied.

Malfoy turned to the liquor cabinet and fixed drinks. He handed one to Harry.

"Thanks," Harry said.

"What did you change your mind about?" Malfoy asked. "About what you're after, or just about admitting it?" Harry didn't answer.

Malfoy leaned against his desk, looking all the while like a pampered prince. "A friend of yours is outside playing the wheels. I hear she's doing well. Mrs. Belby…" Harry looked at him blandly. "I liked the way you handled that situation yesterday. You made me mad at first, but I see now that you knew what you were doing. You and I ought to get along."

Harry looked at him, saying nothing and took a sip of the drink. It was a highball.

"But," Malfoy drawled, "I like to pay my checks as I go along. How much do I owe you?"

"For what?" Harry asked, taken by surprise.

"Still cagey, huh?" Malfoy asked.

"Alright," Harry said, "how much have you got that I can use?"

Malfoy waved his hand in a graceful, easy gesture. "Oh, that. I heard you had all the information already."

"I don't know," Harry replied. "You didn't kill Baddock, did you?"

"No," Malfoy said easily. "So you think I did?"

"I came up here to ask you," Harry replied.

Malfoy stared at Harry. "You've got to be kidding."

"Yeah, I'm kidding," Harry said sarcastically. "I used to know Baddock. You haven't got the men for that work. And, while I think of it, don't send me any more punks. I might get nervous and curse one of them."

Malfoy lifted his glass and took a drink, staring at Harry as he did, trying to get a feeling for him. "You talk a good game, but I still think we can get along. Are you looking for Baddock, or not?"

"Blott was trying to blackmail General Greengrass," Harry said. "I finally figured out that at least half of the General's trouble was being afraid that Baddock might be behind it."

"I see," replied Malfoy, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Well, Greengrass can turn over now and go back to sleep. It was Blott's own racket. I like to know who rents anything from me, so I did some inquiring today myself. So, if it was just Blott you were after, whoever killed him washed you and Greengrass both up."

Harry set the glass down. "I guess that's what the General thinks too since he paid me off today." Malfoy picked up Harry's glass. "No thanks," Harry said, "no more."

"Another shan't hurt you," Malfoy said.

"No thanks."

Malfoy set the glass down. "I'm sorry about that," he drawled. "I wish Greengrass would hire you on a straight salary to keep these girls of his home at least a few nights a week," he said with a scowl. He drained his own glass and set it down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Harry found it an odd gesture from someone so obviously trying to affect an air of culture.

"They're plain trouble," Malfoy went on. "The older one's a pain in my arse around here. If she loses, she plunges, and I end up with a fist full of paper not even worth the ink on it. If she wins she takes my money home with her."

"Don't you get it back the next night?" Harry asked.

"She's spent it by then," Malfoy snorted.

"And then she's back on the cuff, eh?" Harry asked. "Mind if I look the joint over?"

"Go ahead," Malfoy said. He indicated a small door. "That comes out behind the tables."

"Thanks," Harry said, "but I'll go in with the other suckers. It'll look better that way."

"As you please," Malfoy said. "Call me Draco. We're friends after all…"

"Sure," Harry said as they shook hands.

"Maybe I can do you a real favor someday," Draco said soflty.

"Maybe," Harry replied. "There's just one thing puzzling me, Draco. You don't seem to be in much of a rush to find your wife. From what I hear she's not the kind of wife a guy wants to lose. Could it be you know where she is – with Baddock?"

"Look, soldier," Draco said, his voice deadly quiet, "what's between me and my wife is between us…"

"Alright," Harry said, "sorry." He went over to the door, then turned. "You don't have anyone tailing me in a mini cooper, do you?"

Draco started, a look of genuine surprise and puzzlement on his face. "No. A mini cooper? When?"

"Then it doesn't matter," Harry said. "If it isn't you, it's just an enemy. I can take care of him." He turned back to the door and left the room. Malfoy stared after him.

Author's Note: Sorry about the delay in posting. They say that life is what happens while you're busy making other plans. Let's just say that life happened this week and I didn't get a lot of writing done. I have been working on a number of my older stories, and I hope to get them to a point where I can post on them shortly. Thanks for being great readers.

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