Warnings: fat shaming, mention of the porn industry, slut shaming, non-graphic discussion of previous suicide attempt

Chapter 9

Great fans of overhanging willow trees crashed against the roof as we drew up at Erastus Parkinson's newly painted blue and white boathouse. Hayfields rose pale and silver towards a dark clump of beech trees, surrounding a large russet house, which was flanked by stables, sweeping lawns, and well-kept fruit and vegetable gardens.

"Goodness, how glamorous," said Lavender, standing on the shore and tugging a comb through her tangled hair. "I hope we don't look too scruffy."

I certainly didn't. I wore a pale blue shirt over my black shorts, and the heat had brought a pink glow to the suntan in my cheeks.

"Erastus Parkinson's a frightfully big noise, isn't he?" said Lavender.

"Well, he makes a lot of noise," I said, admiring my reflection in the boathouse window.

"It'll be so useful for Harry to meet him," said Lavender.

"Oh he's right out of Harry's league."

"Never mind," said Harry equably. "I may pick up a few tips."

We walked up the slope, past hedges dense and creamy with elder flowers and hogweed, and passed through the Muggle-Repelling Charms. Under huge flat-bottomed trees, sleek Abraxans switched their tails deep in the buttercups. We came to a stile. Michael went over first, and helped Lavender and then me. For a second I let myself rest in his arms.

We let ourselves in through a wrought iron gate, walking across unblemished green lawns, past huge herbaceous borders luxuriating in the heat.

"These are Gwendolyn's pride and joy," I said. "The only bed she enjoys is a flowerbed."

"Is she nice?" said Lavender.

"Well, let's say I prefer Erastus. She's a perfectly bloody mother-in-law to poor Leonidas."

At that moment, several assorted crups poured, tails wagging and barking, out of the French windows, followed at a leisurely pace by Erastus Parkinson. He was a tall man, who had grown much better looking in middle age, when his hair had turned from a muddy brown to a uniform silver grey. This suited his rather florid complexion which had been heightened, year by year, by repeated exposure to equal quantities of golf-course air and good whisky.

Beneath the piggy eyes, the nose was straight, the mouth firm. Dark blue robes, worn over his trousers concealed a middle-aged spread. Generally he looked professional and impressive.

"Hello, chaps," he said in his booming voice, shaking me by the hand. "Gwendolyn's down at the pool." He was always more friendly to me when she was out of earshot.

"This is Lavender Brown and Michael Corner," I said.

"Nice to see you," said Erastus, giving them the big on-off smile that gave him such a reputation for having charm in the city. "You've certainly picked the right weather."

Suddenly he saw Harry who had lingered behind to talk to the crups. For a minute Erastus looked incredulous, then his face lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Why Harry," he bellowed. "You do pop up in the most unexpected places. What the hell are you doing here?"

"Cruising down the river on a Sunday afternoon," said Harry. "I must say it's a nice place you've got here, Erastus."

"Well, well, well, I didn't realise you were going to see it so soon." Erastus now seemed terribly pleased with everything. "Fancy you meeting up with this lot. Now I expect you'd like a drink. Come down to the pool. Gwendolyn's been so looking forward to meeting you."

"You know each other?" said Lavender, looking delighted. "What a coincidence; you never said so, Harry."

"No one asked me," he said.

"Is this all of you?" asked Erastus. "I thought you mentioned some tiresome little parvenu who needed putting in his place, Draco?"

"That was probably me," Harry bit off drily. If I'd had a knife handy, I'd certainly have plunged it into him. I moved away, kicking a defenceless-looking petunia when no one was looking.

The enormous pool, always kept at 25 degrees, lay in an old walled garden, overgrown with clematis, ancient pink roses and swathes of honeysuckle. At one end, in a summerhouse, Erastus had built a bar. Gwendolyn Parkinson, a fifteen stone do-gooder, most of it muscle, and a pug nose, lay under a green and white striped umbrella, writing letters. She glanced up coldly as we approached. She always looks at me as though I were a pair of ill-fitting shoes that refused to be charmed bigger. As is often the case, the people who married into the Parkinson-Malfoy clan were the ones who felt the family rivalry most strongly. The violent jealousy Gwendolyn had always displayed towards my mother was now transferred to me and intensified by the resentment she felt towards Leonidas.

"Hello Draco," she said. "You're looking very fit."

Her voice had that carrying quality developed by years of strenuous exercise bawling out crups, and terrorising charity committees. Drawing close I could see the talcum powder caked between her huge breasts, and smell the pong of the cologne she always used.

I introduced Lavender and Michael. Erastus had dropped behind, showing the new diving boards to Harry.

"I've never seen such a beautiful pool," raved Lavender. "And your herbaceous borders are out of this world. How on earth do you grow flowers like that? My fiancé and I have just got a house with a tiny garden. We're so excited."

Gwendolyn looked slightly more amiable; her face completely defrosted when Erastus came up and said, "Darling, isn't this extraordinary? Guess who's on the boat with them - Harry Potter."

"Oh, I've heard so much about you."

"And Draco's been telling us lots about you, Mrs Parkinson," said Harry, taking her hand.

Gwendolyn shot me a venomous look, then turned, smiling, back to Harry.

"My dear, you must call me Gwendolyn. I gather you and Erastus have been doing a lot of business together."

"Well, yes," said Harry, the lousy sycophant, still holding her hand. "We hope to. I must say you've done this pool beautifully."

"Well what's everyone going to have to drink?" said Erastus, rubbing his hands.

Lavender put an awful flowered tea cosy of a swimming capon her head. "I'd love to have a swim first," she said.

I sat down on the edge of the pool. One of the Parkinson crups, sensing my ill-humour, wandered, panting, over to me and shoved a cold nose in my hand. The crups had always been the only nice people in the house.

My temper had not improved half an hour later. Everyone had swum and Harry, having totally captivated Gwendolyn Parkinson, had been taken off to the house to talk business with Erastus. Erastus, having learnt from Harry that Michael worked in publishing, had invited him to inspect the library which dripped with priceless first editions that no one had ever read. Lavender was still gambolling round in the shallow end like a pink Erumpent, rescuing ladybirds from drowning. I was left with Gwendolyn.

"Where's Pansy?" I said.

"She's gone off to lunch with some friends - the Connolly-Smythes. Leonidas finds them boring. We were rather surprised he couldn't make it this weekend. You'd think after three weeks in the Far..."

"He was exhausted by the trip," I said. "It's his first weekend home. I expect he had a lot of things to catch up on."

"Erastus thought it rather odd he used pressure of work as an excuse," said Gwendolyn. "He must confine all his industry to the weekends."

"What do you mean?" I said sharply.

Gwendolyn wrote the address of some society matron on the envelope in her controlled, schoolgirl hand. Then she said, "Leonidas doesn't seem to understand that office hours run more or less from 9.30am to 5.30pm with one hour for lunch. He shouldn't spend quite so long every day pouring drinks down men like Ludovic Bagman. He is hardly likely to be making a huge potions order."

Despite the white heat of the day I suddenly felt as though ice cold water was being dripped down my neck. What on earth was Leo up to? If gossip about him meeting Bagman had reached Erastus and Gwendolyn, what the hell was going on? This didn't sound like it had been a one off? And Bagman wasn't exactly Leo's type so I doubted they were shagging.

"Leo does most of his deals over lunchtime drinks," I protested.

At that moment Lavender joined us. "Are you talking about Leonidas?" she said, ripping off her petalled swimming cap. "I always did think he was the most glamorous man ever - after Michael that is."

Gwendolyn gave a wintry smile.

"I gather from Dray that Pansy is divine too," said Lavender, still sucking up. She hadn't gathered that from me! "But I can't believe you've got married daughters, you look so young."

Gwendolyn patted her sculptured blue curls. "I'm going to be a grandmother soon."

"How exciting," shrieked Lavender. "You didn't tell me Leonidas wasgoing to be a daddy, Dray."

"No, my other daughter," said Gwendolyn. "She only got married in March, but they don't believe in waiting, unlike Leonidas and Pansy who've been married two years."

"Oh that's not long," said Lavender, soothingly. "I know she'll get pregnant soon."

"She might," said Gwendolyn, "if Leonidas spent more time at home."

I reddened and was about to contradict her, when Lavender said, "Violet only got married in March? Then you must be an expert on weddings. I bet it waslovely."

"It was rather a success. Poor Erastus had to sell a farm to pay for it. Perhaps you saw the photographs in the Daily Prophet?"

"I believe I did," lied Lavender.

And they were off: soft furnishings and quilts, cast iron casseroles, and 'weren't lots of little bridesmaids in pretty frocks much sweeter than grown up ones.' Lavender really ought to put a sock in it.

"Violet's husband, Adrian, is an absolute charmer," Gwendolyn was saying, "we like him so very much. They spent their honeymoon in the Seychelles."

The bitch! Merlin how I wanted to hold her underneath her horrible, chlorinated, aquamarine water, until her great magenta face turned purple.

I watched the Red Admirals burying their faces in the buddleia. I wished Michael would tear himself away from the first editions. A great wave of loneliness swept over me.

"If you're in a hurry for a wedding dress," said Gwendolyn, "I've got a little woman who can run up things awfully quickly. Shall I send her an owl?"

I knew she was only handing out largesse to Lavender like nuts at Christmas to emphasise her disapproval of me.

"Would you mind if I washed my hair, Gwendolyn?" I said, getting to my feet. "I've brought my own shampoo."

"Of course not; help yourself. Use my bedroom; there are plenty of towels in the airing cupboard."

'And the Draught of Living Death in the taps', I muttered, walking towards the house, feeling her hatred boring into my back. She was probably glad of an excuse to question Lavender about me and Harry. As I crossed the lawn I deliberately didn't look into the library to see if I could see Michael.

Suddenly a voice with a slightly creepy tone said, "Hello, Draco." I gave a shudder of revulsion as I looked up into the coarse, sensual face of Thorfinn Rowle, porn-king and multimillionaire.

"What are you doing here?" I said, not bothering to keep the hostility out of my voice.

"Staying here." So this was the old admirer Erastus had mentioned. "Let me monopolise you for a minute," he said, taking my arm. I felt his fingers, warm and sweaty, enveloping it. I moved away, but his grip tightened. "Come and look at Gwendolyn's rose-garden," he said. "I gather it's quite exceptional."

I could see the line on his forehead where the Tanning potion ended and the pewter grey hair began. He was a man who seldom ventured out of doors. His eyes were so dark the pupils were indistinguishable from the iris, and always looked so deeply and knowingly into mine, I felt he knew exactly the colour my pants were. He wore a black shirt and silver paisley scarf which blended perfectly with the pewter hair. I supposed he was handsome in a brutal, self-conscious way, but I could never look at him without realising what a really evil man he was. I was surprised Gwendolyn allowed him into the house. Inflation makes strange bedfellows.

As well as owning strip clubs and half the porn magazines in London, he also produced a prestigious semi-pornographic magazine called Hedonist which ran features by intellectuals alongside wizarding photographs of naked boys with dark suntans cavorting on fur rugs.For a number of years now he had been chasing me in a leisurely fashion, offering me larger and larger sums to be photographed. I always refused him. I didn't fancy being just another centrefold with a staple through my midriff. I felt towards him that contempt with which one regards a bath rail in a hotel bathroom, convinced one will never be old and frail enough to need it.

I stopped to admire a purple rose. Thorfinn admired my figure, which, in its sopping wet swimming trunks, left nothing to the imagination. He moved as close to me as he could, whilst just avoiding pressing up against my wet shorts, "When are you going to come and pose for me?" he leered at me.

"I'm not. I don't need the bread."

"You never know," he said. "Nothing's gilt-edged any more. Not even your beautiful hair. Straightening potions cost money."

"It's natural," I snapped.

"I hear Parkinson-Malfoy are in a spot of bother," he went on. I could feel his hot breath on my shoulder.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, why does everyone keep telling me this? Of course they're all right. They've been all right for over fifty years."

Thorfinn splayed his fingers out and caressed my rib cage. It gave me that horrible squirming feeling of degradation. I imagined the hundreds of boys and the millions of grubby naked pictures those fingers had flicked over. I moved off sharply and buried my face in a dark red rose. He lit a cigar with a beautiful manicured hand, holding it between finger and thumb. I could feel him watching me.

"Why don't you stop staring?"

"It's good luck to look at a Malfoy." He'd made that joke a hundred times before. "You're a very beautiful boy, Draco, but not a very bright one. I'll pay you eight thousand galleons for one photographic session. Why don't we have dinner next week and discuss it? And that wouldn't be the end, you know. I could give you everything you want."

"Well, I certainly don't want you," I said, turning and walking back. "And if people saw the goods displayed so blatantly across your gatefold, they might not be interested in purchasing them anymore."

Thorfinn smiled the knowing smile of a crafty old animal. "I'll get you in the end, baby, and by then it'll be on my terms. You wait and see. By the way, what's Harry Potter doing closeted with Erastus?"

"He's spending the weekend with us on the boat."

Thorfinn laughed. "So he's your latest. No wonder you're not interested in bread at the moment."

I looked towards the house, the wisteria above the library was nearly over and shedding its petals in an amethyst carpet over the lawn. Out of the library window I caught sight of Michael watching us. I turned and smiled warmly at Thorfinn.

"There's a beautiful girl down at the pool, talking to Gwendolyn. Why don't you go and sign her up instead of me?" I patted him on the cheek, and ran laughing into the house.

Gwendolyn Parkinson must have got the most sexless bedroom in the world, with its eau de nil walls, sea green carpet, and utterly smooth flowered counterpane tucked neatly under the pillows so they lay like a great sausage across the top of the bed. On the chest of drawers stood large framed photographs of Pansy and Violet, looking mistily glamorous in pearls, though you could still see their matching pug noses.

There was also a large photograph of Adrian, Violet's husband, and one of Violet and Adrian on their wedding day, knee deep in little bridesmaids in pretty frocks, but not even a tiny snap of Leonidas, who was a hundred times more handsome than the whole lot put together. I was tempted to take the picture of him out of my wallet and stick it on top of Adrian's smug, smiling, square-jawed face, but it wouldn't have done Leo any good.

I felt so much better after I'd had a bath to relax, then a shower to wash my hair and have a wank. I imagined Michael and me finally fucking, and laughing over humiliating Lavender and infuriating Harry.

Combingmy wet hair, and using liberal amounts of Sleekeazy, I looked out of the window. I could see two twinks - the kind who bend over whenever a man approaches, and believe that porn is 'empowering' - wearing white short shorts, and about a hundredweight each of Tanning potions, prancing across the lawn. They must have been brought down by Thorfinn. He always carried a spare. Suddenly Michael came out of the door leading to the swimming pool and walked past the slappers without even noticing them. They, on the other hand, swivelled round, gazing at him in wonder, watching him avidly as he loped with lazy animal grace towards the house. I can't say I blamed them.

'Bring me my beau of burning gold', I murmured, as, wrapped only in a huge fluffy blue towel, I curled up on the floor to dry my hair with a second towel. I didn't wait long. There was a quick step outside, and a knock on the door.

"Come in," I said huskily.

He closed the door behind him. I let the towel slip slightly, a little sneak preview of a forthcoming attraction.

"Why are you here?" I said. "I'm amazed you could tear yourself away from those first editions."

"You're why I'm here," he said. "Who was that repulsive man you were talking to?"

My heart sang. It had worked. "Thorfinn Rowle. I've known him for years."

"How well?" I went on drying my hair. "How well?" persisted Michael. "Oh for Merlin's sake, stop doing that with the towel."

"Not as well as he would like," I said, but I arranged the towel across my shoulders.

He put his hands down, pulled me to my feet and kissed me passionately, his hands moving down to my pecs and over my hips to my arse. He was hard against me. Just for once, I thought, the millpond smoothness of Gwendolyn's flowered counterpane is going to be ruffled. Then suddenly Michael pushed me away and went over to the window.

It took him a few seconds to get himself under control. I picked up the towel. "No," he said. "For Merlin's sake leave your hair for a minute. Look, you must understand how crazy I am about you."

"You've got a funny way of showing it."

He knelt down beside me, took my face in his hands, began stroking it very gently, as though he wanted to memorise all the contours. "Lav doesn't deserve to be hurt; you know that as well as I do. Not now anyway, when Harry's around to fuck everything up as well. If you and I have got something going for us, and I believe we have, let's wait until we get back to London."

For a minute I looked mutinous. But I knew it wouldn't further my cause to tell him that part of the charm of hooking him would be to upset Lavender and Harry.

"It's only tonight and Monday to get through." he went on. "On Tuesday we go back to London and we can meet on Wednesday and decide what the hell to do about it. You're so important to me; I reckon it's worth waiting for."

I nodded, picking up his hand and planting a kiss in the palm. "All right, I'll try," I said.

With the tips of his fingers he traced a vein on the inside of my arm, down to the scar that ran across my wrist. "How did you get that?"

"With a Diffindo. The day Leonidas married Pansy. I felt the only person inthe world who really loved me was being taken away from me."

He bent his head and kissed the scar. "You do need looking after, don't you? Be brave and trust me, sweetheart. It isn't long to wait."

After he was gone I finished drying my hair, and went downstairs, experiencing a great and joyous calm. The road was clear now; there was nothing Harry could do.

Down at the pool the two tarts were swimming, holding their perfect hair high out of the water, encouraged by Harry, who was sitting on the edge talking to Erastus and Thorfinn, and drinking a Bloody Mary. He'd been swimming again and his thick black hair fell in wet tendrils on his scarred forehead.

"I certainly don't want yes-men around me anymore," said Erastus.

Harry glanced up at me. "'Yes' men aren't so bad,"

The three men looked at me. Together they made a nerve-wracking trio.

"I suppose we'd better go in a minute. Draco has so far refused to cook a single meal on board," said Harry. "So no doubt I'll be slaving over a hot tin opener again tonight. I really don't approve of being the house-elf."

Erastus, laughing heartily, smiled at Gwendolyn, coming through the gate, followed by Lavender and Michael, absolutely weighed down with loot from the vegetable garden.

"Look," Lavender's loud voice carried across the garden, "Isn't Gwendolyn angelic? We can have asparagus for supper tonight, and strawberries."

"At least we won't get scurvy," said Harry, smiling at Gwendolyn. "Thank you very much." He got up. "We must go."

"You'd better go and change darling," said Erastus. "I'll walk down to the boathouse with them. It'll give the crups a run. I won't be long."

He bustled into the house.

"Such a pity we're going out to supper," Gwendolyn said, kissing Lavender. "Do Floo me when you've got it installed in your new place. And I'll get Violet and Adrian to Floo you too. I know you'll get on."

"Goodbye, Draco." She gave me the usual chilly peck. "You must bring Ms Granger-Lovegood down one evening," she said to Harry. "I hear she's the most charming witch."

Erastus returned with the visitor's book. "You must all sign before you go."

He always does this so he can remember who to claim on expenses. I didn't dare look at Michael when Lavender signed them both under their new address.

"We won't be actually living there for a month or two," she said, beaming round.

Thorfinn abandoned us at the edge of the hayfields. He was not cut out for country walks. "Goodbye Draco," he said. "Think about what I've said. We can't go on not meeting like this."

"That man's a shit!" exclaimed Harry, as soon as we were out of earshot.

"I know," said Erastus, "but an extremely clever one."