A/N: Thanks for following this story.
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters, only the storyline.
Malfoy Files Chapter 11
This wasn't going to be easy. Despite what I had told Emile, Bryce hated me. For a while Bryce and I had an arraignment. It had ended badly, with her wanting more than I could offer her. She was fun and we had good times, but there was no way it could ever had been more. I knew the address on the parchment; it was a deserted warehouse.
I apparated to the, supposedly deserted, warehouse. It was situated in a small magical community just outside northern London.
I moved quickly from underneath the bewitched street-torches and moved into the shadows by the entrance to the warehouse. I opened the door as quietly as possible moved into the darkness. I couldn't see anything but didn't want to risk a light tipping off Bryce. I gave myself a few minutes for my eyes to adjust eventually making out shapes and forms. I could hear rats somewhere in the darkness searching for food.
Eventually a thin yellow sliver of light came out from beneath a side door. I walked as quietly as I could to the door and listened for sounds. I heard nothing so I decided to open the door.
The door was only partially opened when a jet of red light and sparks hit the door from inside.
I pushed the door open the rest of the way and dived into the light landing behind a crate.
"Emma hold up it's me," I called out. The top of the crate I was behind splintered from another spell.
"Dammit, Emms it's me, Draco," I yelled out louder.
"I know," came the reply as more of the crate, I was behind, disintegrated.
"Will you, fucking stop," I yelled crouching while I prepared to make a dash to another crate. "I'm here to help you."
I could hear her moving forward. "Toss out your wand," she commanded.
I thought about it for a few seconds then tossed my wand a few feet away from me.
"I am gonna stand up now," I said. "I would appreciate not getting hexed." I slowly stood up and saw Emma standing about 10 feet away with her wand pointing at my chest.
"I'm not making any promises. What do you want?" she snapped.
Emma looked pretty much like I remembered brown hair, large doe eyes that could fool you into thinking their owner was innocent.
"I said it already, I am here to help, and judging by your hair trigger and twitchyness I would say you could use it." I said moving in front of, and leaning on the crate. In the better light I noticed she was scared and looked like she hadn't been sleeping or bathing. Her cheek was cut and bruised.
"What the hell happened to you?" I asked reaching towards her face. She turned away her face away from me.
"That bloody dagger and book happened," she snapped. "Was supposed to be a simple turn over. Wish I'd never taken that damn job." She took a seat at the small table in the middle of the room. "Turns out not all the people you meet while breaking the law are honest," she smiled sadly.
"Who knew?" I said, taking the seat across from her. "I take you weren't compensated the way you expected."
"Good assumption," she said standing and looking out a filthy window.
"I need to know who hired you?" I said.
"Just like that? I am supposed to roll over on my clients, burn what's left of my rep cause the great Draco Malfoy asks me to?" she said raising her voice.
"Emma...," I started to interrupt.
"Don't!" she yelled. "You don't get to come to me and ask favors! You just don't. You want something you pay for it like everyone else."
"Okay," I said not arguing. "What do you want?"
"Gold is always good," she said. "Five hundred galleons should be enough to get me lost."
"It's that bad?"
"You have no idea what these people are like. They're Muggles for the most part but they're like the scary ones. You know Hitler, Stalin, Captain Kangaroo," she said, "real twisted types."
"What did they want with dead magic and ancient rituals?"
"Didn't ask; didn't care," Emma remarked sitting back down.
"Okay I can pay you the gold, but I have to know who hired you and how you got in contact with them."
Emma pulled a cell phone from her pocket. "I said they were Muggles right?"
"Tell me exactly what happened," I pushed.
"Well after I got the book and dagger they decided that it would be best if they just killed me and took the merchandise without paying," she smirked. "This wasn't my first trip to the market so when I turned over the book and dagger I had a Portkey ready. I also kept some insurance." She reached in her pocket and pulled out a handful of papers.
"Are those...?" I started to ask.
"Pages from the book," she said, nodding. "I figured I could trade them for my life if I had to, but they just doubled their efforts to kill me instead."
"Tell you what," I said holding her eyes. "I'll pay you double what you asked, and see you out of town. You just give me the papers and the name of your contact."
"I don't have a name," She said, reaching into her pocket producing a cell phone. "This is prepaid and the only number programed in it is my contact. Big Muggle guy, looks like one of their soldiers."
She slid the papers and the phone over to me.
She got a strange look in her eyes bordering on nostalgia. "I thought I would be dead before we..."
Two things happened next. The window to the outside shattered and Emma's chest exploded. I felt something akin to a hot poker being shoved into my shoulder. The only reason I lived was reflexes. I rolled with the momentum and scrambled to my wand that was still where I had dropped it.
'Emma. Stop it!' I chided myself. I didn't have time to think about her. I felt something wet running down my back I couldn't move my left arm. I fixed a destination into my head and turned, gritting against the pain, hoping my concentration was high enough.
-ooo-
I always found it funny the way the subconscious works. I appeared on the font steps of the Firepit at one in the morning, bleeding from a shattered shoulder. I wondered what it said about me that the one place I fixed into my mind to be safe was a bar.
I woke up out of a fog with the white light stabbing my eyes. I looked over and saw Blaise sitting, asleep in a chair with a copy of Quidditch Weekly open in his lap.
"Hey," my throat was sore and raw.
Blaise cracked one eye open. "Do you mind? Some of us are trying to sleep over here,"
"Sorry," I said, trying to move to a sitting position. The pain wasn't as bad as I thought it would be but it still caused me to wince. "How long was I out?"
"Four days. The healers said it was touch and go for a bit. How, the bloody hell, did you end up shot by a Muggle weapon?" he asked.
"Long story. So my family know?" I asked.
"You don't remember anything?" Blaise asked me leaning forward.
"It's all kind of fuzzy. I remember bleeding all over Willy but that's about it."
"Well you were messed up," he said. "You gave me a bunch of papers, a Muggle cell phone, an address to a warehouse and told me not to tell anyone but Auror Phillips." I nodded letting the gravity of my situation sink in. "Of course Gertie found you," he smirked. "I think that witch is part bloodhound."
I smiled. I could always count on Gertie. I stared off into space and thought about Emma.
"You know that girl's death isn't your fault, right?" Blaise said standing up.
I wasn't shocked he had been aware of what was going on.
"Why does it feel like it is?" I asked.
"Cause you're suffering from a bad case of Potteritis," he smirked. "Not everything is your damn fault."
I nodded still thinking about Emma.
"Well, I got a business to run," he said, walking to the door. "I'll let Gertie know, your lazy ass is awake. Come get your stuff at the bar when they let you out."
I nodded and he left.
I leaned back and closed my eyes. I could still see Emma's face right before she was killed. Normally I didn't believe in revenge, as it lowers your life expectancy, but this was different, very very different.
