Biting the Hand that Feeds You
A Harry Potter fic by Andrew Joshua Talon
Disclaimer: This is a non profit fan based parody. Harry Potter is the property of J. K. Rowling and Time Warner. Please support the official release.
Written with Scriviner...
Snape sat behind his desk, eyes narrowed as his fingers ran down the lists of figures and compared them against the stack of receipts.
He startled when the fireplace's flames blazed green.
"Severus?" A voice called through the green flames, "It's Narcissa. May I come through? We need to speak."
Snape glared at the flames. He was annoyed by the interruption, but not annoyed enough to be rude… or at least be any ruder than normal.
He squared the receipts and rose to his feet. He called back, "Do come through, Narcissa."
Narcissa Malfoy burst out of the green flames, the explosive forward motion, easily turned into a graceful stride that had her halfway across the room with a gracious smile. "Good evening, Severus."
"And to you, Narcissa." Snape said formally, taking her proffered hand and bending over it briefly enough to appease the social niceties.
Narcissa looked out one of the dirty windows to catch sight of the filthy muggle street at dusk. There were tired, filthy men and women walking the streets. The factory's swing shift had just let out and people would be making their way home for dinner.
"Cokesworth. It has been an age." She murmured softly.
Snape looked out the window himself and sneered, "You've done well to stay away from this town. It is a blight upon the world."
"Yet you keep coming back to it," She said gently, "Every summer."
"This is my house," Snape replied stiffly. "No one else would have it and it can be nowhere but here."
"I suppose there is that," She admitted.
"Given the circumstances of your previous visit," Snape said with unusual delicacy, "I suppose it is not surprising that you would choose to avoid coming back here."
She gave him a wan smile, "Giving up my son, no matter that he was a squib was never such a simple thing."
When he made no comment, but she continued on, "Did you know that the Master has said that our Squib children are to be welcomed into the Death Eaters?"
Snape stared at her, "He… what?"
She nodded. "He met with Bellatrix's squib son. A purveyor of muggle delicacies who managed to impress the master with an instinctive grasp of complex magical theory. Or so Lucius informs me."
"Truly, we live in strange days," Snape intoned solemnly.
"Lucius appears to be busy handling damage control and making sure Bella doesn't smother the poor boy… man, now, I suppose." Narcissa replied.
"I do not envy him the task," Snape replied darkly.
"I suppose you can expect a few more of us that you helped will be calling upon you to help track down their wayward children." Narcissa replied, turning away from the window and moving closer to the fire, seeking to warm herself once more.
Snape sighed, "Bad enough that I had to make the arrangements to have those children taken in by the local orphanage, I can't imagine that they would have expected me to keep track of the mewling brats as well, did they?"
"You are one of the few loyal to the cause with such close ties to the muggle world." Narcissa replied.
Snape sneered, "I was the only person they knew who had any sort of muggle ties. Most of the pureblood couldn't be bothered to learn about this world." He paused and added, "No offense meant."
"Well, times are changing," Narcissa said with a smile, "Look at the situation with Draco."
"Indeed." Snape sighed, "Much as I enjoy your company, Narcissa, I do have a full evening of paperwork to attend to. How can I help you?"
"Straight to business," Narcissa said, her smile flicking away to an expression of concern, "I need to know, Severus… how is Draco doing?"
Snape seemed vaguely puzzled by the question, "To the best of my knowledge, the boy has been owling Malfoy manor every night. Surely his letters would give you a better gauge for his state. He has been reasonably satisfactory so far."
"He's been in your care, Severus." She said firmly, "Surely you can give his mother a better report of how he has been." Narcissa pressed. "Do you, for instance, know why he would ask for me to send him all of the childhood clothing he's outgrown?"
Snape blinked, "Ah. That explains the uniforms, then."
"Uniforms?" Narcissa asked in confusion.
"His," Snape cast about looking for an appropriate word, "Employees in our business venture. I was wondering how he had dressed all of them so similarly and yet hadn't asked for any additional budget."
"But with his old childhood clothes?" Narcissa continued, "Is he employing house elves? Or Goblins? Midgets?"
"No, actually," Snape seemed vaguely amused, "Children. Muggle children, in fact. His… senior employees… have long experience with coercing the local guttersnipes into doing work for them."
Narcissa's eyebrows raised. "Correct me if I've misunderstood… but it almost sounds like you just said that my son has persuaded the local bullies to abuse the neighborhood children into doing work for him." She frowned, "For both of you."
"When put that way, I admit it does sound rather sinister… and pathetic."
She sighed, "It… is about what I've learned to expect from Draco, I suppose-"
"Much as it amazes me to admit this," Snape interrupted her, "He actually does seem to have taken to his work with a will."
"That part surprised me as well, Severus." Narcissa admitted, "I was quite willing to allow him this indulgence as a vacation from the last intensive round of matchmaking, but I hardly expected him to last three days among the muggles, much less the three weeks he has been away from home."
"He does seem to have taken a shine to it," Snape agreed, glancing back to his desk. He stalked over and pulled up a scroll of parchment, "Here. Read this and tell me what you think of it."
Narcissa unrolled the scroll and read through the cramped, precise letters. "This is Draco's handwriting," She said, almost accusingly.
"Indeed," Snape agreed mildly.
"This is… this is a business plan." Narcissa continued, not sure what to make of it.
"Yes."
She frowned as she read more. "This… is clearly written out. Spells out the problem in every aspect and the necessary steps to tackle each item, point by point."
Snape made a noncommittal noise and nodded. "Did you notice anything else about it?"
She looked up from the paper, staring at Snape. Her eyes were glittering with tears on the verge of being shed, "There… there are no assumptions of superiority in the handling of the issues. There's no automatic assumption of potential problems immediately being addressed by throwing money at the problem… well, there is step eight, but the money is… it's not being assumed that the money will magically appear at need."
"Quite so."
She shook her head. "There is no way dear Draco wrote this." Narcissa said sharply, "He must have copied this from somewhere."
"Oh, the format, certainly. But the content is entirely his."
"I admit the presentation of the problem and the solutions for each of these points seem absurdly simple and straightforward. I suppose perhaps Draco could have thought of these," Narcissa admitted hesitantly.
"The proposed solutions are actually quite clever. The application of those workarounds are simplistic, yes, but the actual reasoning behind them shows true thought," Snape shook his head, "I find myself amazed."
"How did you manage this, Severus?" Narcissa asked quietly, rerolling the scroll. "Have we made such a huge mistake in ignoring the Muggle world when it can inflict this kind of transformation on Draco in such a short amount of time?"
Snape shrugged eloquently, "Who knows?" He gestured to the desk, "I know this one other thing for certain."
"Yes?"
"The receipts. Your son's spending on the work we're doing. Everything tallies up perfectly. No skimming off the top, not even when I could just as easily miss it. The numbers he is presenting me with match up closely enough to what his proposal calls for. I suspect he'll be ready for stage two within the next day or so."
"Where is he?" Narcissa asked.
"There's a nearby fish and chips shop that's letting him use one of their back booths as an office." Snape replied.
"Not working here?" She asked in surprise.
"I am not having an army of underage miscreants, hooligans and hellions tramping through my peace and quiet." Snape sneered, "I get enough of that during the school year."
"I must see him," Narcissa said suddenly as she reached a decision, "I need to see Draco for myself, Severus."
"Well, I haven't been out in a few days." He sighed then looked at her thoughtfully, "There's some spare coats in the hall closet that should fit you."
Narcissa glanced down at her elegant dress, "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" She asked sharply.
"You're too well dressed for this neighborhood." Snape replied absently. "I, for one, would not wish to have to deal with any muggers."
"Oh. That would be troublesome."
"It certainly would be," Snape replied blandly. "For the muggers."
The two stepped out into the street a few minutes later. The factory workers spotted them and to Snape's surprise and befuddlement, everyone seemed to be steering clear of them.
In one or two instances, when he'd met the eye of one of the men, the man in question would inevitably tip his hat or touch his forehead respectfully and murmur, "Godfather."
Narcissa blinked in surprise at this and glanced at him, "What is that about?"
He glowered, "I do not know, but I would bet the Malfoy fortune that it is somehow your son's fault."
The floo trip to the Longbottom estate was quick, and it left Ron and Luna outside in the warm summer sun brushing the soot off their robes. Ron frowned in curiosity, and looked around the hedge maze the fire had deposited them in.
"Huh? This the Longbottom estate?" Ron asked. Luna nodded.
"Oh yes. There are multiple floo entry points, which can be activated at random. And presumably, they are all heavily defended."
"Defended? How?" Ron asked, looking around. "By plants?"
The bushes rustled, before large, black thorns grew from their branches. Ron gulped as they increased in length, and he put himself in front of his wife protectively.
"I take it back, I take it back," Ron said quickly, and firmly. "Now call them off already!"
The spines stopped moving. Slowly, they receded into the foliage, leaving harmless greenery behind. Luna leaned over and looked at the bushes with her large eyes.
"I think they got the point," Luna commented. Ron snorted.
"Better them than us…"
Luna looked up at him, and then smiled. She snickered. She giggled. She finally began laughing uproariously, holding her stomach as tears streamed from her eyes. Ron gaped at her in astonishment… Before he laughed as well.
"B-Better… Them than us… Heeheehee!" Luna cackled.
"Y-Yeah! Hahahaha!" Ron agreed. They laughed for a time more, slowly petering out. Ron smiled lovingly at his wife, and she smiled back. Her bottlecap necklace shone in the sun, just like her hair. He took her hand and she squeezed him back.
"Shall we?" Asked Ron. Luna nodded.
"Let's."
- - - - -
The maze was not particularly difficult to get through. It seemed a few random turns took them right to the exit. Ron whistled as he looked up at the Longbottom manor, rising majestically in the summer sun before them. It was an old style castle, with towers that resembled gray saucers stacked up around a sink. The light gleamed off numerous windows, shining across a beautiful landscape within the wards.
"Damn… Now that's a house!" Ron said cheerfully.
"I wonder why Neville never invited us over," Luna mused. "Those towers look like ideal Shandor cylinders."
"Shandor cylinders?" Ron asked his wife as they walked up the hill to the castle. Luna nodded.
"Oh yes. They focus magical energy, in particular necromantic energies, for the purposes of opening portals to dark dimensions ruled by beings far too foul for mortal eyes to comprehend."
Ron stared at her. Luna stared back.
"... And you'd want to study that?" He asked. Luna smiled.
"I'd like to write an article on it," she said, wrapping her arms around Ron's. Ron allowed himself a silly grin as they reached the double doors. He knocked the great door knocker, which boomed seemingly for miles around. The doors slowly opened, creaking theatrically. Ron looked around the dark inside of the manor, and saw no sign of anything living.
"Er… Hello?" Ron called.
"Echo… Echo… echo," Luna contributed. Ron sighed, and rubbed the back of his head.
"I guess we go in."
"Yes," Luna said.
They stayed put for a few moments. Luna looked at her husband.
"Ronald?"
"Hm?"
"You said we should go in."
"I did?" Ron asked, trying to look surprised. Luna nodded.
"Yes, I distinctly heard you say 'I guess we go in.'"
"... Well, I guess I did, yes," Ron coughed, looking at the ominous hallway ahead. Still they did not move.
"... Are we going to go in?" Luna asked. Ron nodded.
"Oh! Yes! Sure! I mean… Did ya mean, like, right now?"
"It was implied, but perhaps it went over your head," Luna commented. "That does tend to happen a great deal, dear."
"Oh, fine," Ron sighed. He started into the Longbottom manor, Luna at his side. As soon as they were past the threshold, the doors slammed shut with a bang. Ron gulped, and looked at Luna with a nervous smile. He cleared his throat. The long hall magnified this small noise to terrifying levels, and above them stained glass portraits watched in eerie silence.
"Oi, Neville!" He called. "Neville? It's me, Ron! And Luna too! You remember Luna, right?"
Once again, only his echoes replied. Ron grimaced. Luna piped up next.
"If you are home, you're doing a wonderful job of establishing a frightening atmosphere."
Torches flared to life along the stone walls. Ron yelped. Luna nodded.
"Yes, see that is exactly what I am talking about," Luna said cheerfully.
"Luna, that's not helping!" Ron squeaked. Luna frowned at her husband.
"How do you know? It may in fact be helping a great deal. Our situation hasn't really changed, has it?"
Before Ron could answer, a huge mass smashed through one of the huge stained glass windows. Ron yelped and yanked Luna behind him as it crashed into the ornate marble floor in front of them. The mass writhed and twisted and then screamed, numerous mouths opening up.
"Oh Merlin, oh Merlin, oh God," Ron muttered as the huge plant thing began to stand up. "I'm never eating a salad again! Never, never, never-!"
"YAAAAAHHHH!" Bellowed a voice above. Ron and Luna looked up and saw the figure of a youn man falling through the broken stained glass, a sword in his hands. The monster looked up and screeched, but too late-The boy struck it in half with the blade. Upon contact with the enchanted steel, the monster burst into flames. It shrieked and desperately waved tendrils and branches, but in the end fell apart into a sizzling heap. Ron gaped at the mess… And his eyes got wider when he saw the tall boy who stood up from between the two halves, panting in exertion.
"Haa… Haa… Haa…" Neville Longbottom turned and smiled. "Oh, hey Ron! Hey Luna!"
"Hello Neville," Luna said, in her usual non-plussed manner. "I see you've been busy this summer."
"Ah, yeah," Neville said, rubbing the back of his head. "Sorry I couldn't come to the door. My Gran's out and I had to deal with this… Oh, hang on." He stuck the blade into a mass on the floor, and lifted it up. He took a bite, and grimaced. "Ugh… Still not properly cooked."
"Neville?" Ron managed. "Wha… What the bloody hell is that?"
"Oh!" Neville grinned. "It's why you're here, right? Stuff for your shop?"
"And what, you expect us to sell… Monsters?" Ron asked in disbelieff. Neville shook his head.
"No… Food!"
Ginny stepped off the Knight Bus in a bad temper. Well, no worse than the one she had when she'd gotten on.
The day had been… strange. And irksome. There had been Dean, for starters. What should have been just a bit more harmless fun had turned into an hour long discussion with bullet points for why he thought they should break up. In the end it had boiled down to precisely the reason why she'd been enjoying it in the first place: It wasn't anything serious.
And he'd wanted more. But she didn't. So… that had been that.
She'd already lied to her mother earlier that day claiming to not be feeling well specifically so she could sneak away early to meet with Dean, but… she should've just gone to breakfast.
She'd ended up coming home right after the argument, hoping for a chance to talk to someone. Except everyone was gone. Hermione had run off because some other girl was putting the moves on Harry. Something that Ginny might have felt a tiny stab of jealousy over, but she did her best to let it go.
Then Ron and Luna were also gone. Ron would've been the last person she'd want to discuss her lovelife with, but Luna, for all her eccentricities would be capable of devastating insight and she was always good at being distracting. Except they'd been sent on some errand to the Longbottoms Estate by their mother.
Mum hadn't been home, because her note explained that she was going to visit the twins, seeing as their store had become the main means of selling off their muggle-bought material and the products of their garden. So the twins were out as well.
And her father was at work.
With her eldest brothers already moved out and on their own, there really hadn't been anyone at the Burrow to speak to.
Everyone had something to do. Something important. Something for the family.
Except her.
So she'd gone for a walk.
The walk had turned into a ride as she'd flagged the Knight Bus and asked the driver to take her to someplace where she wouldn't likely meet any Wizards.
On reflection, she probably should have been pickier about her destination, since she certainly did not expect to be dropped off at Cokesworth.
She looked around at the setting sun, only just barely visible through the overcast sky. She eyed it warily as the streets started to fill with rough, working class men who seemed to be eyeing her.
She blushed, realizing she hadn't changed out of the rather less than conservative short skirt and leather jacket she'd worn for her date with Dean. She didn't really fit in with the neighborhood. As much as she wanted to get some space, she would have prefered somewhere that looked… less seedy.
She was already looking for an appropriate private spot to summon the Knight Bus from, but the growing press of workers heading home for the day wouldn't seem to leave her alone.
She was growing more and more panicked just the rain began to fall down.
The men around her began moving faster, ducking under what awnings could be found and the stoops of anonymous row housing. Others didn't seem to care and if anything seemed to be cleaner for the rain.
Ginny, however, not wishing for her already slightly abbreviated outfit to slip entirely into 'indecent' territory by being soaked, so she ducked into the first open shop she could find. A fish and chips shop that by the look of things had seen better days. Its shingle didn't even have any words on it. Just a stylized picture of a fish and a potato.
Well, she assumed it was a potato. The black speckled brown blob on the shingle could've been anything.
The place was in need of a lot of repairs, the chairs and tables being liberally dinged and scratched. Most of it wobbly and possibly on its last legs, but there was little dust or clutter in the place.
The long, wooden counter had several wooden stools and the proprietor of the place stood close by. He was an older gentleman with a balding head of salt and pepper hair and a bushy moustache that stretched into muttonchops. On the counter was a mechanical cash register that had seen better years… perhaps even better decades. Next to the register was a small rack filled with bags of potato crisps.
It wasn't a brand she recognized. If anything they almost looked home-made. The bags were plastic resealable baggies with little plastic stickers showing a stylized crown and a logo that spelled out: "Prince's Perfect Potato Crisps".
He gave her a vague little smile as though his eyes weren't quite focusing correctly. "Hello, there, miss."
She returned the smile, her nerves still keyed up and made worse by her scare out on the street. "Um… ah… could I…" She looked up at the blackboard behind him that served as a menu and hurriedly did the math in her head. She had just enough muggle money that she could probably get something. At least it would give her somewhere to wait out the rain.
"A regular meal?" She finished, picking the cheapest item. A soda and a meal of fish and chips. Her time with Dean, if nothing else, had given her enough experience with muggle 'fast food' places that she could order without embarrassing herself. .
He nodded still looking slightly to one side of her, "Sure, thing, miss. Let me just get the fryer frying."
She took a seat at the counter, realizing that the stools were probably in the best shape of all the furniture there. She shook her hair out to see if that would help with its dampness, but it was slicked down on her head from the rain and there wasn't all that much she could do with it.
The man glanced over his shoulder at her, "You don't look like a local, miss."
"I'm… I'm not. I was just in the neighborhood," She answered.
He nodded, then inclined his head towards the back of the shop, "Hope you don't mind. There's goin' to be a meetin' real soon in the back there. Might get a tiny bit rowdy, but they're usually well-behaved."
"Oh." Ginny half-rose, appreciating the excuse, "Should I go then?"
"Nah," The old man laughed, "They're small. They don't really take up much room."
At that point a few children ran into the store and hurried past, waving at the proprietor. Ginny's eyes adapted to the dimmer light and she realized that there was already a crowd of children clustered around a booth in the back.
The proprietor called after them, "No running! You aren't late!"
Ginny blinked, "Children?"
The old man's face split into a wide grin, "Mr. Prince's little helpers. He's a clever fellow for putting those idle little hands to such good work."
"Oh." Ginny said, as though she understood the explanation, "Mr. Prince?"
"Fellow who sells these." He grabbed one of the bags and offered it to Ginny. "Have one on the house with your food." He laughed, "Best I've ever had. Family recipe, or so I heard tell."
She accepted the bag and set it to one side. She still didn't have much of an appetite.
The old man nodded and gestured to the back of the store, "Well, I don't think that's really his name. I don't think he's told anyone his real name, but we had to call him something. I think he's been living over at Eileen Prince's boy's place. That's his Godfather, or so I hear. Anyway, that's when everyone started calling him Mr. Prince. All the kids more than anyone else."
"Oh," Ginny said, glancing into the back of the store. It was darker back there, but once the last few kids had shown up a light had been flicked on by someone.
The man? Boy? He only seemed to be a few years older than her at most. He was impeccably dressed in a black suit with a green tie that was obviously chosen to accentuate his eye color.
In a bad light, Ginny thought the boy could pass for Draco Malfoy. There was mostly a resemblance from the color of the hair and a bit of the shape of the face, but otherwise the boy was taller than Draco and his hair wasn't as desperately silky smoothly styled as Draco's was. There was also none of the sneering, condescending arrogance that was always on Draco's face. Instead there was a searing intensity to this man's eyes. A man with a mission. Ginny wondered if he was some kind of religious zealot.
Besides which, Draco Malfoy would never possibly have allowed himself to wander about in a town like Cokesworth, without Crabbe and Goyle, much less having clearly muggle friends. Or even allowing himself to be found in a pokey, little fish and chips shop organizing children.
The man stood tall and proud, his entire manner seemed to command respect. Respect that was freely offered to him by the crowd of children surrounding him. Strangely enough the gaggle of children surrounding him ranging in age from eight to around thirteen or so, were all dressed about as well as he was. Suits and ties, all perfectly tailored for proper fit on almost two dozen children. Ginny knew enough about tailoring from her mother's efforts at teaching her to know that it took a lot of work to get outfits fitting perfectly like that, short of difficult-to-learn resizing charms. Since they all seemed to be muggles, that one didn't seem likely.
Whoever had chosen to dress the children like that had spent a lot of money. Especially when one considered that those children would still be growing. Suits fitted so perfectly couldn't be resized up, she thought. Meaning that at most, they'd be able to wear those perfect little suits for little more than a few months at most.
That was a lot of muggle money, she thought trying not to make any comparisons to Dean or his family.
Standing just a little behind the blonde were two large young men. One of them was bald, but stubble was beginning to grow out a bit on his head. The other, had a perfectly coiffed head of hair and a profusion of piercings clustered around his nose. These two in particular, while wearing the black suits with green ties also had sunglasses on despite full night having fallen and the generally miserable overcast conditions outside. The absurd comparisson to Draco rose up again, contrasting the two men on either side of the blonde man with Crabbe and Goyle.
The blonde had been speaking to the children the whole time and while they were noisily chatting among themselves, but there was a definite undercurrent of restraint and polite attention being given to the man who seemed to take it as a given.
The two men started going among the kids, collecting little baggies of crisps as well as money.
The chattering grew even more excited as the blonde pulled out a large white cardboard rectangle with some sort of diagram on it and gave it to the man with the piercings to hold.
"As you can all see here, we are closing in on our goal. We have perhaps another few weeks and we will most definitely have enough for everyone to join us on the trip to London." His voice was crisp, clear and very upper class.
There was a loud cheer.
"Assuming we reach our expected goals, all of you will remember that we are going to need permission from your parents to allow you to be included, does everyone remember?"
"Yes, sir!" The children called back.
"If anyone's parents are reluctant to provide permission, please let me know so either I, or Godfather," At the mention of 'Godfather' the other children seemed to shudder and quiet down, "Can persuade them otherwise." He continued, seemingly oblivious to the effect the statement had.
The man with the piercings leered down at the children, "'E's gonna make 'em an offer they can't refuse." He said sagely.
This seemed to bring up a small cheer from some of the children.
"Now," The blonde said soberly, his expression one of deep regret "There is one last item we need to deal with before everyone can head home."
This caused another loud stir among the children, but he silenced them by holding up his hand. "One of you has been misreporting the amount of money you have been getting for the sale of Prince's Perfect Potato Crisps."
That brought forth a shocked silence from all the children as suspicious glances began being passed around.
"I already know who's been doing it." He pointed to a smaller ten-year-old boy with light brown hair and an expression of absolute terror.
"William Flint," the blonde called out. "Come forward and face judgement for your crimes."
The boy called upon tried to start melting back into the crowd, but the children around him, including an adorable little blonde eight year old with her hair in pig-tails who kicked the boy sharply in the shin.
The bald man dragged the boy forward, forcing him to stand in front of the blonde. He wasn't that tall. Certainly not compared to his two bookends, but he was definitely taller than the cowering ten year old in front of him. but in that moment, he seemed to loom over the entire room.
"William… Wee Willy. William, William, William…" He intoned slowly, as though savoring the smaller boy's name. "When you first came to me, didn't we have a talk?" He gestured to the other children gathered around them, his voice forceful as he drawled through the rhetorical questions. "Didn't I speak to all of you? About having dreams. About meeting those dreams. About being able to get everything you wished for?"
There were nods from all around. The miserable William gave a resentful nod.
"You know," He took in the rest of the troop of children with his eyes, "You all know what it's like to want things and not be able to get it. I understand," His eyes burned with a passionate fervor. "I have things that I want that have been denied to me."
Those eyes focused on William to the exclusion of all else, "I want it so bad I can taste it. I could have tried to take it. To grab at something with shortcuts. With methods that would have gotten me in trouble. I certainly would have gotten what I wanted, but I wouldn't have been able to enjoy it."
He leaned in closer and all but hissed, "Tell me, Wee Willy? Do you think it was worth it? The rush you got from trying to steal from me… the pleasure of holding on to what did not belong to you… was that worth being trapped in this moment now? With me?"
"No," William squeaked in a tiny voice.
"I know what you want William. I know about the Super-blaster 5000 Watergun that calls to you. Begs you to take it in your hands and start shooting at your friends. Imagining all that screaming and fun."
William froze under the blonde's gaze.
"Godfather has taught me," The blonde continued, "that anything worth having must be earned. Do you think your Super-blaster would be worth anything to you if you'd bought it will wealth ill-gained from me?" The voice dropped once more into an intimate whisper that somehow still managed to carry, "Suppose you had gotten away with it. I had been less observant and you managed to sneak away the fruits of your deceit. Do you think you would have enjoyed it? With your conscience gnawing away at you. Tearing at you. Knowing that you tried to get to your dreams at the expense of everyone elses? How could you possibly look your friends," He gestured to encompass the children once more, "Knowing that you were the dirty little thief that took their dreams from them?"
The rest of the children looked positively murderous at this point, but what they might have done was interrupted when Wee Willy burst into tears and with a sudden motion lunged at the blonde's legs
The two larger men moved to grab the smaller boy, thinking it was some sort of attack, but the blonde negligently waved them back.
William clung to his legs, crying piteously and wailing apologies. Tears and snot staining the material. There was a momentary flash of… something across the blonde boy's face. Disgust and loathing, mingled with a sort of triumph, but it was smoothed away quickly and the blonde's expression had turned understanding.
"There, there, Wee Willy," He said, slightly awkwardly, patting at the boy's head which at that point was somewhere around his knees. "I just need you to understand that there will always be temptations to take shortcuts and get what you want entirely for yourself," He continued, "But alone you are vulnerable. Alone you couldn't earn what you're earning now. You," And now it was obvious he was addressing all the gathered children, "Are stronger together. With me leading you, there is nothing we cannot achieve."
This drew a small, ragged cheer from the children and fresh sobs of pitiful remorse from William.
The blonde gently, but firmly pried the boy away from his legs, another flash of distaste at the fading stains on his pants leg. The bald bodyguard looking fellow picked the smaller boy up by the collar of his little suit to bring him up to the blonde's eye level.
As though catching on quickly, the boy dug into his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins which were quickly dropped into the blonde's waiting hand, "I'm so sorry, sir!" The boy said around his sobs. "It won't ever happen again."
"Now, Wee Willy," He asked gently, "What have we learned?"
"To never try and cheat you out of your money?" Willy said uncertainly. "No matter how little?"
That seemed to startle the blonde for a moment before he continued on, "Well, actually, I was going to stress the importance of honesty, integrity and being a reliable worker, as well as the importance of thinking of others, but that lesson's a good one too." He sneered then made a curt gesture.
The bald man dropped Willy back down to the floor. The other children seemed to be avoiding looking at him.
The blonde man turned a grin on them, "Now, now. Willy's made restitution for his mistake. And now knows he should never try that again, right Wee Willy?"
"'es." Was the tiny answer from the terrified boy.
"What else did we forget to say, Willy?"
"'orry."
"Excellent. He's learned his lesson, everyone. So there's no need to keep being so cold to him," He continued, gesturing grandly, "He's part of our enterprise as well and shouldn't be excluded just because he made a mistake. I'm sure we will all make mistakes and we would all appreciate the chance to be forgiven, right?"
There were some uncertain nods from the children, but that seemed to be enough for the space that had opened around the smaller boy to close up.
"But this is the only mistake he gets," The Blonde said darkly, sweeping that fierce gaze across the terrified children. Then his features lit up with a warm smile that… didn't quite seem to touch his eyes. After a moment the meeting broke up and the children began to file out. He called out after them, "Remember to go with your designated buddy! Does anyone need an umbrella?"
There were a chorus of no's from the children with a few of them raising up small folding umbrellas in a profusion of colors, sharply contrasting the black suits they wore.
"Off with you then," He said, dismissing the children entirely.
They waved to the proprietor as they passed by and a handful even shyly waved at Ginny.
She waved back, but her eyes were still on the blonde, who had slumped into the corner booth's seat and had allowed his head to rest on his crossed arms on the table. There was a disdainful, irritated mutter of, "Children," from the blonde. "I can see why Godfather always seems to hate teaching."
"You did great, sir." The bald man said. "Right gave me chills it did."
The man with the piercings sniffed, "Still think we shoulda smacked him around some. Best way to make sure the lesson sticks."
The blonde mumbled into the table, sighing as he did so, "If he tries that again, I might just let you."
Ginny just simply couldn't help but stare. There was definitely something very familiar about the blonde. The more she thought about how handsome and well-groomed he was... She'd never seen anyone with that sort of passionate intensity either. It was… very attractive.
She sighed and sank lower into the stool. Dean had only broken up with her just this morning and she was already checking out someone else. No wonder her family didn't bother to rely on her for anything. It probably was something wrong with her.
Everyone was busy trying to make sure the family made it through the crisis in good order. Everyone was doing their part, their mother was a stern task-mistress like that. But where did that leave her? No one had bothered to ask her to help. No one had expected her to do anything. Well, why would they bother. She'd been dating Dean. The attitude her mother had projected seemed to indicate that she expected once she'd been married off, that there really wouldn't be any need for her to do any work. Her husband would be expected to take care of her.
… except now she wasn't seeing anyone and there was no one to take care of her and she was just… around. Useless.
"He's awful good with kids, ain't he?" The proprietor asked her with an all-too-innocent grin.
She made a distracted noise that sounded like, "Mm-hmm."
"Bet he'd make someone good husband material." The proprietor continued on, still chatting innocently in a tone of, 'Why, I'm just making small talk here, no ulterior motives at all.'
She glanced back to the blonde man who had since straightened up and was chatting quietly with the two other men. He looked like he knew what he was doing. He certainly seemed to be someone who had taken charge of his life. Someone who would be going places.
She caught herself at that thought and sighed. And there she went again. Trying to attach herself to someone as her way of being 'useful'. No wonder her family didn't care what she did.
She slumped down, noticing belatedly that the proprietor had already put her soda, fish and chips in front of her. It certainly smelled appetizing, but she'd gotten curious about the mysterious Mr. Prince, so she reached for the bag of crisps and opened them.
She took a bite of one and blinked in surprise. It was delicious. Crisp, salty, perfectly seasoned.
That was really all she needed to realize that she was indeed hungry. She'd skipped breakfast and lunch. She fell to devouring the bag with a will, recrossing her legs to a more comfortable position as she did so.
She took another look and to her surprise found that he was looking at her. She hurriedly dabbed at her lips with one of the paper napkins that came with her meal to blot away the crumbs.
She noticed that he hadn't noticed that she was noticing him notice her. That was when she realized that what he had in fact been looking at were her legs coming out of her short skirt.
She sighed a little, but didn't mind so much. She smirked slightly and ran a finger up her outer thigh, the motion distracting him enough to make him realizing that he'd been caught.
His eyes immediately oriented up to look her in the face. Somehow managing to slightly linger as they swept up her body.
He seemed to be trying to play it cool, trying to glance away, although she caught his eyes darting back when she recrossed her legs once more, just to see what he'd do.
He blushed hotly and finally managed to tear his gaze away. She realized his two companions hadn't even bothered covering up their leering. He growled something at them, then delivered a pair of sharp blows to the backs of their heads which made them turn away finally.
She gave him a smile. A small direct one that said, "Okay, you got one free look. Now knock it off."
Then she turned back to her meal, now ready to devour it.
What she hadn't expected was that he'd be sitting on the stool next to hers a few minutes later, saying, "Hello."
Oh, this isn't going to end well. Either of these things.