AN: I want to apologize for my delays. Final term papers and all that nonsense. Also a bit of writer's block. But I decided enough is enough and I owe you at least a weekly update. Thank you to my lovely readers and reviewers, as always.
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Chapter Nine: In Which Things get Slightly Better
One thing Draco had not missed about England was the unbearable climate. 'Was it always so gray?' he wondered to himself as he stared out the window of the hotel room. 'Did it always rain this much?' Having spent the last six years in one of the sunniest spots on earth, Draco had lost his pale pallor.
"So do you want to tell me about the tension between you and the principals?" Steve's voice came from behind Draco. He stiffened a little bit, not knowing how much to tell Steve.
"What tension?" Draco said blithely.
Steve snorted and waved a hand. "Please. The guy was totally gobsmacked to see you and Goldilocks acts like she wants to rip your throat out."
"I don't – wait, gobsmacked? Where did you pick that up?" Draco questioned, vastly amused at his American friend's use of British colloquiums.
"Uh, some girl at the club last night kept saying it. And your British talk is contagious," Steve sniffed. "You're avoiding the question."
"We went to school together, before I came to America," Draco said. "Boarding school, for seven years, and we didn't exactly get along." 'More like, I was a prick and harassed them all the time,' he though privately, although he certainly didn't plan on sharing that with Steve.
"Well, shit," Steve snickered. "You know, it's no wonder you haven't gotten laid in like six years; you go around pissing off the hottest chicks."
"Weasley?" Draco said incredulously. "A hot chick? Have you lost your mind?"
"Have you lost yours?" Steve cried. "Just check her out at work today, I'll bet you fifty bucks that you'll agree with me."
"But-she's not even a natural blonde," Draco protested, before realizing how odd that made him sound.
Steve shrugged. "Hey, half the world isn't. Doesn't mean she's not hot though. I'd definitely do her." As Steve walked away to take a shower and get dressed to go into the office, Draco frowned. Something about his insensitive, pudgy partner buggering the Weasley girl – Ginny – annoyed him. 'You just see her as the innocent school girl she was six years ago,' he thought. 'That's why it's weird to see her and Steve together.'
Steve was singing "Smack my Bitch Up" in the shower again, Draco noticed a second later.
'No, it's just weird because she wouldn't be found dead with a guy like Steve,' Draco snorted, and then thought nothing more of Ginny Weasley until he and Steve arrived at work several hours later.
Draco had a serious epiphany upon arriving at the Yorke Ramsay office building.
"You're never driving again, you arsehole," he snarled, clawing his way out of the rental car. "You're a bloody menace to the road!"
"Oh shut up," Steve sulked. "It's not like you know how to drive, you bastard."
"Yes, but at least I can tell the left side of the road from the right side, Keller!"
"Yes, well, at least if we crash, they don't have to buy us coffins, they can just bury us in the car," Steve sniffed.
Draco had to admit that the cars in Britain were smaller than the ones in America, but Steve's perspective did very little to improve his mood. "No. I'm driving back to the hotel, OR we'll take a cab," he said seriously, meaning every word. "And I will knock you over the head and stuff you in the trunk if you try to argue with me." He was only half-joking.
While Steve grumbled about pushy bastards who didn't even own a car wanting to drive, Draco thought about his relationship with Steve. When he had met Steve, he didn't have any roots down, really. Draco had been accustomed to a subtle, carefully sculpted set of rules of interaction; Steve was so overwhelming that he just forced himself in.
He had been offensive, crude, and intolerable at first, but he had offered a good opportunity, and Draco has learned how to look for the slightest opportunity. After a while, he became resigned to working with the Muggle oaf, and then, very slowly, he began to enjoy the American's company. It had taken about a year for Draco to crack a smile in front of Steve.
"So Janine broke up with me," the fat man was saying. Draco listened with one ear as he continued making his chart. "There goes a great screw."
"I'm sorry," Draco said blankly, not looking up.
"I just don't know what I did wrong!" Steve groaned, beginning to pace. "She wanted romance, and I gave her romance, I just-"
"Can you shut up? I'm working on some stats here," Draco interrupted.
"No, I have to get this off my chest."
Draco sighed, pushing away from the desk and looking impatiently at his partner. "And once you get this sodding nonsense off your chest, as you put it, we can resume working?"
"Yes."
Draco rubbed his temples, trying to maintain his composure with the idiot. "Alright, let's hear it then."
"Well, it was our six month anniversary, and she wanted to do something special, go out or something, I don't know."
"Where did you take her?" Draco asked.
"Oh man, there's this great place in Berkeley called the Smoke House that has the best hot dogs and milk shakes," Steve enthused, almost drooling.
"And what time was your reservation?" Draco asked.
"Reservation? What the fuck do you need a reservation for at a drive-through hot dog joint?" Steve scoffed. Draco was shocked.
"You took her to fast-food for your anniversary?"
"Hey, it's damn good food, better than most of those froo-froo places."
"What was she wearing?" Draco asked pointedly, foreseeing where this was going.
"Uh, a black dress."
"Was her hair up or down?"
"Up, I think."
"Was
she wearing make-up?"
"Yeah, she looked really good-oh."
"Yes, oh," Draco said. "So she got all dolled up to have a night on the town, a night of romance, and you took her to some run down greasy shack and didn't even let her out of the car. Anything else I should know about?"
"Well, yes." Here, Steve shifted, and Draco became more interested. Steve was never uncomfortable, whatever he was hiding ought to be good.
"I stopped at the florist and bought her roses after dinner," Steve said. "They do it in the movies, you know?" Draco nodded, encouraging Steve to continue.
"Anyway, so I buy her the flowers and hide them in the back seat. We're driving back home, when I notice she's sniffing more than usual, and when we stop at the next light, she looked at me and, well,"
"Spit it out!" Draco fairly shouted.
"Her face was completely swollen and blotchy and I think I screamed. Then she screamed, and the cars were honking and I was stuck in the car with that face and she just yelled at me to take her to the hospital. Apparently she's deathly allergic to roses. As they were wheeling her in for emergency treatment on the gurney, she told me she never wanted to see me again."
Draco stared at Steve in silent disbelief before giving a genuine smile of amusement. Steve's jaw dropped at seeing his stoic partner unbend and Draco quickly stifled his expression, but it was too late. Steve had gotten a foot through the door, and he knew it.
It was not until a few minutes into the meeting with Yorke and Harry that Draco realized Ginny wasn't there. He wasn't sure if she was supposed to be, but judging by the shadows under Harry's eyes, something was wrong. Draco liked to think that he was good at reading Harry; he had spent seven years torturing him, after all.
He wondered if it would be appropriate for him to inquire after Ginny. 'Why the hell not?' he thought. 'It can only be a good thing if we get off to a proper start, and I might as well be the one to start it.'
The lunch hour once again found Harry and Draco alone in the break room.
"So, Harry, is Ginny alright? I noticed she wasn't in today."
Harry looked a little uncomfortable. "Er, you said my name."
Draco was confused. "What, Harry? Should I call you something else?"
"No, you just never called me by my first name before, it's a little odd to tell you the truth."
"Sorry," Draco apologized easily. "Americans are a little less formal, and I suppose I've forgotten how to be properly dignified."
Harry offered a small smile at this. "Well, to be honest, it's a personal family matter of hers, and I don't think she'd appreciate me spreading it about."
Draco nodded, not very surprised. "That's fair enough. Is it too personal for you to tell me how you ended up in the Muggle world?" Harry studied him, thinking about it.
"Well, Ginny and I kind of ran away together," Harry started slowly. Seeing the surprise in Draco's face, Harry shook his head frantically. "No, not like that. See, the Weasleys, well, everyone I guess, always thought we'd end up married. And we didn't want that."
"So you left, to get away from the pressure." Draco knew there had to be more to the story than that; the boy who defeated Lord Voldemort could hardly be frightened off by a bit of peer pressure. However, he decided not to push it. "What about Ron and Hermione?"
Harry shook his head a bit. "Sorry, you don't know how weird it is to hear you say their names like that. They got married, and I haven't spoken to them since we left. And Ron-" Harry stopped here, looking grim. "Well, let's just say I'm not in any particular hurry to go back." They sat in silence for a while before Harry pulled himself out of his thoughts. "Why did you go to America?"
Draco knew this question was bound to turn up, and he was ready for it. "Well, after my father was killed, my mother was put in Azkaban. There was very little chance that she would be let out, and so she asked me to help her." He found it difficult to think about his mother's final actions, but for reasons almost unknown to himself, he found that he wanted to tell Harry about his weakest moment. "She asked me to bring her poison, so she could take her own life."
Harry's eyes were wide, but he said nothing, for which Draco was grateful.
"After she was gone, I felt like I needed to get out, just go anywhere. It didn't help that as the last Malfoy, the Ministry was keeping close tabs on me. I resorted to Muggle transportation so they couldn't trace me. I went to America, San Francisco, to be exact."
"Why?" Harry asked. "I mean, I can see that you've changed, but back then, why would you leave all your money, your friends-"
"I didn't have anyone left." Draco's throat constricted. "They were all dead or in prison, and my money, the Manor, were just reminders of what I had lost. Anyway, I just needed to clear my head, so I ended up in America. I hadn't even been there a day when I was mugged. Snapped my wand, took all my ID and money. I was homeless for a long time before I started to get some little jobs. Eventually Steve found me, and here I am."
Harry contemplated this in silence. Draco felt compelled to get through to Harry. He was struck by how long it had been since he could confide in someone, anyone.
"I wasn't happy, not for a long time. Can you imagine a Malfoy homeless, living without magic, and never having worked a day in his life? It was awful." Draco laughed dryly. "There were times when I almost threw myself into the Bay, but I thought about everyone else who died and I just couldn't give it all up like that." He checked the wall clock, which said they had five minutes before it was time to get back to work.
"Anyway, I just felt like we should get reacquainted," he said, running a hand through his hair.
"Thanks Mal-Draco." Harry said, extending a hand. "I appreciate it." The two men shook hands, and Draco felt lightened. He had made good progress with Harry today.
Apparently, the universe had decided that there was yet more progress to be made that day. Harry and Draco were walking out of the building discussing market strategies, when Harry broke off with a yelp.
"Bloody hell! My car!" The windows had been smashed, and one of the side mirrors was missing. Keyed in the blue paint were three words: SLAG, PONCE, SNITCH. Harry ran over, opening the door. It wasn't locked, as the handle had somehow been gouged out. Draco saw him remove a piece of paper and read it.
"Harry, what's going on? Who did this?" he asked angrily, surveying the damage. "Is that a letter?"
Harry shoved it into Draco's hand while he continued to rummage through the car, looking for clues. Draco read the note with rising trepidation.
Dearest Harry,
I know where you live, and I know where you work. Did you think you could get away so easily? I'll be watching you and your pretty little friend.
The note was not signed. Draco was shaken. 'Six years ago, this would have been an ordinary occurrence, but it seems like living with Muggles has put us both out of practice.' Harry's groan brought Draco back to reality.
"Well where do we even start with this?" Draco asked, trying to be calm.
"I don't know," Harry moaned, tugging at his hair. He seemed to be going into shock, Draco noted with alarm.
"Okay, let's think. Wizard or Muggle?"
"Muggle, probably," Harry said. "Gin and I haven't contacted any wizards in years."
"Is there anyone who you've managed to piss off lately?"
"No I don't- oh!" Harry gasped. "Shitbuggerpissingarsehole, I know who it is. We've got to go find Ginny." Draco was still a little surprised at his diatribe, but tried to refocus.
"Do you need a ride? You obviously can't drive that out of here," he said.
"Thanks. We need to go to the hospital on Kensborough." It was a tense drive to the hospital, and Draco was so caught up in thinking about Harry's car that he didn't even think to wonder why they were going to a hospital. It was only after they were walking inside and striding down a white corridor that smelled of antiseptic and lemon that Draco began to wonder why they were there.
Room 145 was small and dark, and Draco could make out a small figure surrounded by tubes and beeping machines.
"Harry?" a tired voice sounded from the corner. Both men turned to see Ginny getting up from an uncomfortable looking chair. "What are you doing here?" She hadn't spotted Draco, who was standing behind Harry, but when Harry moved forward to take Ginny's hand, she stiffened. "What is he doing here?" she hissed.
"Ginny, we have to go outside and talk," Harry said. Ginny followed him out, shooting a glare at the blond wizard, then crossed her arms.
"Harry, what were you-"
"He totaled our car." Harry burst out, tugging at his messy hair again.
"What?" Ginny screeched. She whirled on Draco and jabbed a finger to his chest. "You did what?"
"No, Gin, not Draco, Armando." Ginny deflated and looked back at Harry.
"Who?" she asked, crinkling her brow.
"The guy from last week," Harry muttered, looking down. "The date rape one."
Draco found it odd that Harry would talk about such things in front of him, even if Draco didn't understand everything. He cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the other two.
"Listen, I don't really know what's going on, but if there's anything I could do, let me know," Draco offered earnestly. He was met by a stony glare from Ginny. Harry saw Ginny's mouth open and hurriedly dragged her into the corner. Draco watched the two conversing, and was amused to see when Ginny sullenly nodded and scuffed her shoe on the ground.
'She looks just like the young girl I remember,' he thought fondly, before catching himself. 'Come off it, she's a grown woman who hates you. Try to remember that, and don't go making a git of yourself.'
"Thanks," Harry said, coming back over to Draco with Ginny trailing behind. "Um, if you could give us a ride home, we can work everything else out. But we need to stay here a little longer, to check Thom out of the hospital."
"Thom?" Draco inquired, thinking of the small person lying in the hospital bed.
"My son," Ginny spoke up, looking him in the eye. Draco was completely taken aback, but he knew better than to say anything or betray his feelings in his expression.
"I'm sorry," he said again, honestly. Ginny's eyes flew to meet his, searchingly, and then she nodded before going back into the room and gently shutting the door.
AN: Thanks for your patience and your love. Review please, or I'll never get through this week.
