Chapter 8.
Russian Draco
SH Case Files
Official Name of Group: Sedate Heart
Informal Name: SH
Leader(s): Riddle. Full name unknown. Possible other heads unknown.
Headquarters: Unknown
Confirmed Activities: Drug and Human Trafficking; Drug Production; Government Infiltration
Area of Activity: Mainly United Kingdom and Western Europe
There wasn't much else noteworthy. When they said they had nothing, they really meant they had next to nothing. Draco stared at the tiny bit of information on his computer monitor. He was the newest member of the unit and he wasn't supposed to be involved in the SH case, unless the chief Inspector instructed him otherwise.
But Draco had found access to the files through a colleague's login while said colleague was at lunch. It didn't help much though. He already knew pretty much everything he'd read. Sedate Heart was a ubiquitous topic of conversation at the office, during meetings, even during coffee and smoking breaks.
What is the connection? Draco pushed his mind to find something, a link in the lines written on the screen. What connects SH and Harry? What does he have to do with it?
Harry himself had been unable to say what exactly Riddle wanted with him. And Draco recalled a passage in Cho Chang's diary in which she stated that she didn't understand what Harry was doing there, in the place where she lived, wherever that was. Had she worked for Riddle too? It seemed most probable. And she had been a prostitute.
So the 'Human Trafficking' part in the file was probably related to prostitution. But from Cho Chang's writing, Draco could tell she had been British. She hadn't been an eastern European or Russian girl. How had she gotten involved? Had she been forced into this like Harry? She had seemed far from happy in her diary, and the fact that she'd died of drugs was kind of an obvious indication of misery.
Draco's stomach clenched. He couldn't deny he felt sorry for her. He'd known and heard of many cases with prostitutes involved, young girls dying in the filth of the streets. But none of them had felt as close as Cho Chang. She had been with Harry all this time, she had known him, had probably seen him change. And she knew the new Harry best. She would've known how to handle him.
Maybe Hermione would know too. Grey-eyes mused. Maybe he should finally involve the two others…
"Malfoy!" Someone boomed behind him. Draco almost fell off his chair as he scrambled to his feet. His boss, Chief Inspector Moody was limping towards him. He had been injured in a major intervention about a decade before, but the bullet wound to his leg had never entirely healed.
"Yes, Chief Moody!" Draco called back, making sure to angle his body in front of his screen, even if he thought Moody was way too far to be able to read it, he didn't want to take risks for the old man had keen eyesight.
"Where is everyone?" Chief Moody barked.
"Uh…it's lunchtime, sir." Draco answered uneasily as he kept his place in front of his screen. He didn't want to make Moody think he was insulting his intelligence.
"Lunch!" Moody exclaimed. "But it's only…" his voice died away as he glanced at the clock on the wall of the main office space. "Right." He grumbled finally. He turned his back to Draco and slammed the door to his office.
Draco chuckled, partly to relieve his fear of being found out using a co-worker's login, and partly because he thought his boss funny sometimes. It was as if there was never any off-time for him. He called up employees after work, at night, during holidays or personal vacations… Even when they were sick, they were not safe from his barking phone calls, as he still refused to use e-mail properly. He didn't trust the internet. "The worst things are the ones that make you feel safe." He always told everyone.
But at least Draco thought he might have scored a good point by being present at the office while not many others were. As long as Moody didn't know the reason of course.
The newest officer plopped back down on his chair and swiftly closed his colleague's account before anyone else could see what he was doing. The worst thing was that the risk hadn't yielded anything. He was none the wiser about Sedate Heart. Either the Special Police Force really knew nothing, or they were keeping the most vital information in higher ranks. But this was the main office, and Moody was the highest placed… If anyone knew, he would.
But it was out of the question for Draco to simply walk in and ask. It wasn't his place, it was incredibly rude and unprofessional, he would probably get in trouble for hacking a colleague's account, he could be thrown out, or suspended, and then he would get zero information.
The tall blonde sighed as he stretched his legs, which were tangling in the cables under his desk. It really was a small desk.
This path is leading nowhere. He thought. And after staring at his screen for fifteen minutes, and at the clock for another ten he suddenly sprang up. Fuck it, I'm taking a lunch break.
But the break from work, and the evening, and even the next weekend did not help him find a solution. He was too busy with work that was given to him, or with worrying over Harry, wondering where he might be, what he might be doing. He really wanted to get him out, but he knew that the key to a clean retrieval was to cut off the bond that existed between him and the organisation. He had to find the reason why Harry was involved.
On Tuesday morning, Draco lay asleep on one of the sofa's in the break room in the office. He'd worked late the night before, and then had taken advantage of the fact that everyone was gone to use his colleague's account again, searching for other criminals that might be affiliated to Sedate Heart, that might yield information that had not yet been linked to the evasive organisation.
But nothing was to be found. Excepting the drug itself, which was more and more prominent on the streets, there was no sign of SH activity among the smaller criminals known to Draco. Still at the very spring of his career, he could not have gathered enough knowledge to find important links.
It had been past four in the morning when he'd been able to fall asleep, and at almost seven he was still snoozing peacefully with his legs falling off the couch. That is, until suddenly his cell-phone lit up the dark room, for the sun had not yet made its appearance, and the phone's vibrations against the wooden coffee table resonated loudly. Draco sprang awake, momentarily disoriented at not finding himself in his bed, then gathered his spirits quickly enough to pick up.
"Draco Malfoy." He spoke into the phone, forgetting to look who it was first in his haste.
"It's just me." Ron's voice answered in a bewildered tone. "Why'd you speak like I'm your boss?"
"Sorry, long night." Draco mumbled. "What do you want?"
"A heartfelt 'how do you do' would be nice."
"Sod off."
"Blimey," Ron complained, "did you get any sleep at all?"
"Not much, and I'm busy. So could you tell me what you want a little quicker?" Draco snarled.
"It's seven in the morning!" Ron protested. "How busy can you be?"
"Very, and you better prepare cause it's going to happen to you too. And why in the world do you call me at this hour?"
"I've got physical training all day and I'll be too tired afterwards to put up with you."
"And this couldn't wait until tomorrow?" Draco began to lose his patience. He grimaced as he caught a blurry reflection of himself in the shiny coffee machine. He looked terrible.
"Hermione and I try to reach you all the time! It's like you live in a cave these days!"
"If my office is a cave then you're right."
"You got that much work?" Ron sounded perplexed.
"Yes! So could you state your goddamn business already!"
"Blimey! I'm never calling you so early again! I'll let Hermione get the full load!"
"WEASLEY!"
"Yeah yeah, all right all right! It's my mum and Hermione's mum's birthday soon, and they're celebrating it together. To try to forget how old they are they're organising this grand party and everyone's invited. You coming?"
"When?"
"Three weeks."
"I'll think about it." And Draco hung up before Ron could complain about needing the answer soon or about not knowing what presents to get or anything else.
The small space was very quiet for a few minutes while the blonde held his head between his hands. Then the first two colleagues entered the room for their morning coffee, chattering about an office affair that was going on. So Draco took his things and disappeared to the bathroom to wash his face and fix himself up a little. He'd only slept at the office once before and he hadn't thought of bringing a toothbrush or other. Water and hand soap would have to do.
He walked back out, thinking about Ron and Hermione's mums birthday party. No matter how polite he wanted to be, he had difficulty facing them. It only reminded him that his own mother was dead now. Was this how Harry had felt when confronted with Narcissa?
Family, Draco mused. No matter how many friends you have, you can still miss family. He thought about Severa Snape, who was the only one left he could call 'family'. He didn't have much contact with her anymore, but she had been quite close to his mother. More than cousins, they had been more like sisters. She certainly felt like his aunt. A very severe and unpleasant one, but still…
Harry's uncle and aunt! Draco suddenly felt like slapping his forehead. His uncle, Harry had said that Riddle had helped his uncle get out of trouble. If going through SH wasn't producing any results, surely Harry's uncle should show some kind of connection to Riddle. Maybe it would clear up Harry's connection too. How had he not thought of that? It was so obvious!
Draco made a quarter turn and headed to the stairs. People were streaming into work and the lift was constantly occupied, so Draco jumped down three stairs at a time to reach the first floor. Since Harry's uncle had been saved by Riddle, he was most probably not in their current database. Draco would not find him through his colleague's account. But a trace of him should be somewhere in the general criminal archives.
"Roger!" The young and eager inspector rushed into an office on the first floor. But the desk in front of him was empty. For a moment his heart sank as he reminded himself it was still early, but then the said Roger, a man in his late forties with a grey beard and a tired look in his eyes, came shuffling through the door with a cup of tea clasped in his hand. "Thank god you're already in!" Draco exclaimed.
"What's biting your nails, Malfoy?" The man said. Roger, like Draco, had trouble with his morning mood. And when he was in a bad mood, he refused to address anyone by their first name, which he usually did with Draco. The blonde ignored the sullen tone and joined the man to his desk, firmly planting both his palms on the desktop.
"I need you to pull a file. No wait…" Draco added hastily. "Two files."
"It depends from where."
"The general archives."
"There are many sections you don't have permission for."
"If I give you the names you can tell me if I have access or not?"
The grey-bearded man gave a slight nod of the head and took a sip from his cup. Draco knew to wait for Roger to put his cup down before going further. If he rushed Roger at this time of day, it would not work in his favour. However, once Roger took his notepad to write down the names, Draco found himself struggling to remember Harry's uncle's name. What had it been? What was the name he'd asked for when he'd gone to the neighbours right after Harry's disappearance?
He knew it had resembled Harry's cousin's name: Dudley. Hermione certainly remembers. Draco thought, but knew he couldn't ask her without raising suspicion, and he wasn't sure yet if he wanted to tell his two friends. Would Harry even want it?
"I haven't got all day, Malfoy." Roger grumbled with his pen hovering over his notepad.
"Yeah, yeah, give me a second." The blonde impatiently paced the cramped office while rubbing his forehead, hoping to rub out the memories.
Dudley…Duckley…Dummy…Blurry…Durry…Dur…Dursley! Vernon Dursley! That's what the neighbours had told him, back in the day when they'd gossiped to him about the Dursley's situation and sudden moving away.
Draco spelled the name to Roger. "And the second name?" Roger sipped his tea again.
"Potter, Harry."
A teenager, wrapped in wool. A teenager walking along awkwardly. A teenager stumbling over cold and wet branches lining the streets. A teenager walking along alone.
"Do you have it?" Draco asked the moment he walked through the door for the fourth time that week.
"Do you have my lemon tart?" Roger sipped his afternoon tea in a disinterested manner.
The blonde man laid a delicate baker's box on the desk. "Complete with meringue topping." He added with an impatient sigh.
"I expect you want something in return?" Roger eyed the box with desire.
"That's what I just asked, you bearded baboon!"
"Did no one teach you to respect your elders?" Roger complained with a sly smile. Draco knew Roger was just having fun. So he replied with a smile.
"No foolish ones."
Roger inhaled the air around a crack in the box. "Hmmm, what heavenly odour. Smells sweeter than my wife's…"
"TOO much information." Draco hastily cut him off before he began picturing scenes in his head he would have nightmares about.
"Bet all your girlfriends smell like this." Roger chuckled as he pulled two files from his desk drawer and laid them next to the box.
Draco regarded them with even more desire than Roger had regarded his box, but didn't pick them up yet. "You remember what I asked?"
"I didn't tell a soul." Roger assured him. "Of course, I can't hide the fact that I pulled them, so if anyone ever wants to view the originals they will see that copies have been made. But these were quite low profile so I don't think that will happen anytime soon."
"Thanks Roger. I owe you." Draco snatched the files away, tucked them under his arm and walked out the door.
"You owe me a treacle tart and a box of chocolates!" Roger called after him.
"I won't forget." Draco threw over his shoulder as he began ascending the stairs, too impatient to take the lift again. He turned around a corner on the third floor, a meeting room he knew to be empty at this time. He needed some quiet space to look over this. He didn't want to be caught with it. He'd have too much to explain.
Let this hold some information, please! He prayed to nothing or no one in particular before opening the first file: Vernon Dursley's file. Harry's was the one that he was most curious about, so he saved it for last.
He recognised the picture immediately. He'd seen that face regularly when he was a child. That burly double chin, those red and puffy cheeks, those small black eyes and that ridiculous moustache. He found him even more ugly now that he knew what he'd done. There were a few parking tickets, speeding tickets, late taxes, suspicion of tax fraud…and at the very end, a mention of charges from a drilling company that had since gone bankrupt. It stated that Vernon Dursley had stolen from the company. But whether it was a material or monetary matter was not said. The only thing more was that the charges had been dropped shortly after they'd been made.
There was nothing more on the criminal record, but there were civil records included in the file too. Draco had asked for it. But on a first glance, he found nothing out of the ordinary. This would take more work to check out.
The blonde moved on to the second, much more interesting file.
Draco gasped once he opened the flap of the file. Two green eyes were staring back at him. They were black and white copies, but he knew the exact shade of those eyes. It was a school picture of Harry when he was about thirteen years old. He was wearing his St-James uniform. The old Harry came back to life in Draco's mind more than ever.
After realising he'd been staring at the picture for longer than he'd intended, Draco moved on. Surprisingly, there was no criminal record in this one. Only a civil one.
Born the 31st of July 18 years previously in the west country. Parents, Lily and James Potter were brutally murdered on the same day when he was seven.
Draco's heart contracted again. He wondered if he'd have to pull the files of the parents too, if he could face to read the autopsies of his best friend's loved ones. And again, if Harry knew, what would he say?
The blonde turned to the second page, which was also the last one. For a moment he thought to go back to Roger and ask for the rest, until he read what was written: Harry James Potter had emigrated to Russia some years ago to live with family, and had also taken on the Russian nationality. No longer a UK citizen, the file had been ended there. Harry was no longer England's problem.
What the bloody hell… Draco's mouth opened slightly in astonishment. Russia? It might sound credible, since Harry had been learning Russian at school and had been very enthusiastic about it. But he'd never mentioned the reason behind it, and certainly not that it was because he had distant family in that country.
Even allowing for the fact that he might have distant family there, and that he no longer wanted to live with his uncle and aunt here, the story was clearly false. Harry was here, in England. And he'd told a very different story.
This emigration business was false, a lie. It could only have been to make Harry disappear off the map. But emigration didn't happen just like that. It had to have left a trail. The English government must have needed all kinds of proof…
As soon as Draco had finished his work for the day, he went home. Throwing the files down on his salon table he poured himself a drink and plopped down on his couch. He had to finish his drink first and take more than a few deep breaths. Then he took out his laptop, looked up a few phone numbers, and dialled on his cell-phone. This was going to cost a little.
"Здравствуйте, С кем я говорю?" (Hello, who is this?)A woman's voice asked on the other side of the line. This wasn't what Draco had expected. He'd called an official department of the government relating to immigration. Why did the woman ask who he was?
"I'm Draco Malfoy." Draco replied in the best native Russian accent he could manage. Luckily, he still used Russian regularly for work. He hadn't lost the fluency he'd learned as a child with Severa Snape. The woman would know by his name that he wasn't Russian, but at least she might think he had Russian roots or family, which was true. He had, through Severa.
The blonde glanced at the clock and realised why he hadn't reached the department. It was late in the evening in England, which meant it was night in Moscow. He must be talking to the personal secretary of the functionary he was trying to reach.
"Чем я могу вам помочь?" (What can I do for you?)The woman finally asked politely, apparently satisfied by his level of fluency.
"I want to talk to Boris." Draco said in heavy, more informal Russian. He wanted to come across as someone who knew the said functionary very well. It was easier to get favours this way.
The secretary didn't bend so easily, but apparently her boss was still awake, doing god knows what, and Draco managed to persuade her to pass him through.
"What do you want?" Grunted a very heavy voice. It was more intimidating than Draco had anticipated, but he held fast.
"Hey Boris, how are you these days?" Draco tried to charm his way in. This functionary must know so many people and been bribed so many times (or so Draco expected and hoped) that he didn't even know anymore who he knew and who he didn't.
"Who's this? I'm busy!"
"Come on Boris, you owe me more than that. Don't you remember?"
"I don't. What the fuck do you want?"
Ah, Russian was so rich in swear words, it sometimes made Draco jealous he couldn't do the same in English.
"I have questions about your immigration policy, and I'd like a list of all the people that emigrated during a certain year."
"Why would someone from the UK be interested in that?"
Of course, he must've tracked where I'm calling from by now.
"Listen, my brother." Draco grimaced, using those expressions might be a bit risky. "Just lend me your secretary for a few minutes, I'm sure she can look it up in a second."
"Are you British government?"
Damnit! Draco swore in his head. How had he guessed? Were they that suspicious? Draco went with the flow of the conversation.
"As a matter of fact, yes, I am. And we would very much appreciate your cooperation." He said politely, throwing it in for diplomacy.
"Go fuck yourselves." The line broke off.
Well… Draco stared at his phone, then at his laptop, then at his phone again. Looks like I'm going to Russia.
Since I've said thank you so many times you're probably thinking "God! Aoiika stop it already!" So just to change for a bit, to make things more interesting, I will say the exact opposite of what I think. I don't thank you at all, I hate you!
It sounds a little too weird for me. I'll stick to the usual then.
I have been absent for a long, long time. The ups and downs of life don't take all your plans and projects into account, they just happen and then you have to drop many things to get busy with others. But I hope most of you didn't forget me in the meantime, and that you're still interested in the story.
And huge thanks to Fireaquilafor the nice message :D
Aoiika
xx
