Draught
"Let's have a little chat - Girl to girl!"
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"That sword is meant to be in my vault in Gringotts. How did you get it? What else did you and your friends take from my vault?"
"I didn't take anything…. Please… I didn't take anything… "
Draco ripped himself out of the dream covered in a layer of sweat as Granger's piercing screams still rang in his ears. He slid out of his silk sheets into his dark room and fumbled at his desk drawer.
"Fuck… FUCK! Lumos."
He grabbed his wand from his bedside table. With the light he returned to his desk and found what he had been rummaging for. A silver dagger with an intricate handle carved into the shape of a snake.
Without a second thought, he brought the blade down to his now faded Dark Mark and made three, long, angry cuts. He ground his teeth and bit back a pained growl. He moved to his shoulder blades and pressed as hard as he could to make four cuts per shoulder. With shaking hands, he dropped the blade to the dark hardwood floor, barely concealing the blood that sprayed off it.
Flashes of his aunt's hands and dagger dripping with Granger's blood overtook his vision. "Fuck OFF!" He yelled at the memory.
He eyed the potions cabinet at the other end of his room, considering a Draught of Dreamless Sleep. He shook his head and walked towards his bed. He didn't want to go down that road again.
Draco lay back in his bed and silently cursed at the pain of soft silk rubbing against his open wounds. He deserved this. He deserved worse. He reminded himself of that every time he did this.
"Nox."
"Morning, Drake! How'd ye sleep last night?"
"What do you want?" Draco muttered behind his morning cup of tea.
Theodore Nott threw himself down on one of the large, black leather seats in Draco's office. "I take that as not well. Hurry up and down that tea, ye need to be on your best behaviour. We're meeting with Ms. Parkinson in fifteen."
"Ah, bollocks, I forgot about that," Draco gulped the rest of his black tea. "Let's go." He stood from his desk and grabbed a folio under a pile of loose parchment.
"Ye're bleeding through, mate. Change the shirt or heal up," Theo gestured to the little specks of blood seeping through Draco's blue oxford.
Theo was Draco's best friend because he didn't ask questions and didn't lecture him about his vices.
With a grunt, he pulled off his shirt, facing Theo to not expose his shoulder blades and pulled on a black oxford from his desk drawer. He wasn't ready to heal them yet.
"Salazar's rod, man! Get a tan or something! Ye're blinding me!" Theo's hand blocked his view of Draco's torso.
"If you keep checking me out, I'll report you to Human Resources," Draco chuckled.
"If ye keep undressing and trying to seduce me instead of meeting with clients, I will report ye to the Board of Directors," Theo jabbed as he gracefully leaped off the chair and opened Draco's office door.
"Gentlemen, thank you for meeting with me. Have a seat," Pansy Parkinson was already in the boardroom when they arrived.
"Good morning, Ms Parkinson." Draco greeted their guest. He and Theo sat opposite her and her assistant. "How can we help you?"
"As you know, the Department of Law and Regulation has grown substantially since the war and as a result, we're able to train Aurors in more avenues of magic beyond charms and hexes," started Pansy.
"Yes, I actually saw one of your Aurors last night. Potter, just came back from Cairo and heard he got roughed up. Might want to up the training on defensive spells," Draco smirked as he opened his folio.
Pansy's face remained unphased and professionally cool, "I do not interact with Mr. Potter often enough to comment. Regardless, our aim is to train Aurors to be able to brew potions on location and provide medical aid to those in need."
"So they sent our bestie to get them a good deal on supplies?" chortled Theo.
"The Minister is willing to offer a four million Galleon deal for transportable supplies and a handful of your staff members to train our senior Aurors," Pansy continued, ignoring Theo.
Draco resumed a blank stare. "Ten million."
"Six," Pansy countered.
"Nine and we get the rights to be the Ministry's sole potion supplier," Draco returned.
"Mr. Malfoy, I understand a fair price is your goal, but think of what we're aiming to do here. If we can train all our Aurors to provide medical aid to victims or even the Dark Wizards they're hunting, they can obtain more information and can save more lives than we ever did in school," She paused to let the verbal lashing sink in, "Five and a half and Malfoy Industries gets sole rights." She sat back in her seat slightly. She knew she had won.
Draco smirked to hide his grimace, she was good. He stood and stuck his hand out across the table, "You have a deal, Ms. Parkinson. Have the lawyers confer and send the papers to my office. Speaking of which, would you care to join us?" He gestured out the boardroom doors.
"Yes, thank you." She rose from her seat to follow the two men out. Before stepping out of the room she turned back to her assistant. "Richard, send the minutes to my office, the Minister's and Mr. Malfoy's. I will be back after lunch."
Pansy shut the door behind her as she let herself into Draco's office. "You fucking arsehole! You knew I needed a lower bid on that deal. Give me a coffee!"
Theo gave a hearty laugh, "Pans, ye got a great deal! If ye wanted something better, Shacklebolt should've known better than to send Drake's oldest friend to do the negotiations."
Draco handed Pansy her coffee and a tumbler of scotch to Theo before sipping on his own. "I've got to hand it to you Pansy, using my fucked up psyche about Hogwarts against me as a negotiation tactic was very devious. Snape would've been proud."
Pansy smiled back at him and clinked his tumbler with her mug. "I thought you might appreciate that. I'm a good politician for a reason. By the way, thanks for drinking in front of me, tossers."
"Piss off, Pansy, ye've said before we could. If it's bothering ye we can just slam it back now, I wouldn't mind an early afternoon buzz," replied Theo.
"No, it's fine, I just want to win one today and make you two feel bad," Pansy angrily scoffed. "Now, what was that about seeing Potter last night?"
Draco swallowed the spiced amber liquid. "Yeah, I was out with Neville and Luna when the Golden Trio showed up and barged in on our dinner. Like I said, Potter looks like hell. As if he's been getting the shite beaten out of him for months. Weasley is getting a gut and is carrying on the Weasley tradition by filling the world with more gingers."
"Vane is pregnant again? Next thing ye know her hair will turn red and she'll start knitting everyone minging sweaters and caps," Theo chortled.
"What of Granger?" Pansy pressed.
"Hm?" Draco took a long sip from his glass, not wanting to dwell long on Granger. She shows up after how many bloody years and the nightmares instantly start back up. The flashes and cutting he could handle, but now he can't even fucking sleep.
"Granger. Is she still a bushy-haired swot?" Theo probed.
"I don't know, she didn't really talk much. Not at all, really," Draco answered, filling his tumbler to appear nonchalant. "No more bushy hair though."
"'Didn't talk much?' Granger? Are ye kidding me? How is that even possible?" Theo asked incredulously.
"The war fucked people up in different ways," Pansy answered solemnly.
The tumbler Draco was holding suddenly felt like it weighed a tonne. He put it down and out of his sight. They knew better than to drink in front of Pansy, Draco especially, having been there for most of her lowest moments. She'd been sober for three years now, but still. Why make it harder for her? That reminded him. "Do you need a refill on your Draught of Peace, Pansy?"
"Yeah, it couldn't hurt. Thanks, Drake," She gave him a tight smile.
"Well now that the mood is nice and cheery. Pansy, want to get lunch with us? It's on Malfoy Industries." Theo followed Draco's lead and put aside the tumbler.
"Alright, but only because he's paying and I'm not a cheap date." Pansy gathered her robe and headed for the Floo.
There was a knock on Draco's office door.
"What is it? I'm about to leave for lunch," Draco called annoyed, briefly lifting the Muffliato charm.
"It's me, Draco. I just wanted to make sure we're still on for my place tonight. I'm taking off early for the day."
"Yeah. You can open the door, Neville," Draco sighed, impatient with Neville's politeness.
Neville hobbled in on a black cane and greeted Pansy and Theo with a nod and smile. "Okay, come round at seven. Luna is going over to Hermione's so we'll have the study to ourselves."
"Right, sounds good." Draco noticed Pansy eyeing the cane.
"Do ye want to come to lunch with us?" Theo asked.
"Oh, no that's alright, I'm going to visit my parents, thank you though," Neville smiled and shuffled out the door.
Once the three were seated at, what Draco expected was the most expensive restaurant Pansy could think of, Pansy finally asked the question that was obiovusly weighing on her mind.
"What's with Longbottom's cane? I didn't know he was that badly injured in the war."
"He wasn't. I don't know why he has to use it, it's only sometimes. One day, he'll come in walking fine then the next, he'll be stumbling around with that cane," Draco shrugged. He wasn't concerned about Neville. It hadn't affected his work and Neville hadn't brought it up the numerous times they'd been alone together researching. He also had Lovegood and she could handle that stuff better than Draco could, anyway.
Theo was deep in thought. Draco had noticed the way the man looked at Neville, he wasn't an idiot. "But if you don't mind, Theo, could you keep an eye on him? Sounds like Lovegood is busy with Granger, so just make sure he's performing well at work, yeah?"
Theo picked up his menu and blindly read it. "Yeh, no problem."
Hermione walked to the shop to pick up a bottle of gin for her dinner with Luna. It was sure to be a fine evening, but having a little alcohol in her system wouldn't hurt her patience. It was half five and the streets were busy in Muggle London. The coat she wore had sleeves long enough so she could easily conceal her wand, ready in hand. Her eyes watched the many faces that passed her on the walk and in the cars that passed by.
She felt a prickle up her neck. She was being watched. There shouldn't be a reason for it, she was dressed in Muggle clothing and blended well into the crowd. Even still, the feeling was static igniting her adrenaline. She checked over her left shoulder for any signs of a tail. Nothing. Her pulse didn't subside.
She crossed the busy street to go to the slightly more expensive shop. She glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone followed. Nothing. She rolled her neck and stepped over the threshold. Gin and a box of biscuits in hand, she disappeared behind the shop to Apparate. Instead of going to her flat, she went to the alley next to her boxing gym.
Hermione stood in the alley, leaned against the wall, watching people walk past unaware of her presence. She studied each bypassing face, looking for any similarities to the men who attacked her. After twenty minutes of waiting, she glanced at her watch. She quietly cursed, Luna was meant to be at hers in ten minutes. She looked out at the thinning crowd once more before Apparating home.
The several large gulps of the gin she'd pounded back caused her to cough and sputter. She walked back into the sitting room and sighed as she straightened the throw pillows on her navy blue sectional sofa for the third time. She knew Luna had owled her about having dinner plans to be polite but Hermione didn't feel like entertaining tonight. She tried to brush her off but she had a feeling the woman would show up regardless.
Right on cue, Luna stepped out of the Floo. "Hello Hermione, I brought some vegan macaroni casserole. It's quite good, I've been researching Muggle cuisine as of late."
"Hi Luna," she barely repressed her disappointed sigh at Luna's appearance. "It looks lovely. Thank you for bringing dinner. Come in, I'll serve us."
Luna slowly made her way through the living room to the small dining room. Hermione went to the kitchen to plate the delicious smelling food.
Luna called from the dining room, "How are your parents, Hermione? I didn't see any pictures of them in the living room."
Hermione ground her back teeth and gripped the serving spoon tightly. She called back in as casual a tone as she could manage, "I wouldn't know; last I heard they were still in Australia." What a lovely way to start the evening. Hermione brought the plates into the dining room and set them down with a little too much force.
"I'm sorry to hear that. It must be very difficult for you with Harry being gone so often and Ron being busy with his family." Luna stared dreamily at Hermione, not touching her food.
Hermione sat across from the other woman and shovelled a forkful of the casserole into her mouth and shrugged. "I suppose. I don't really have time to think about it. I'm quite busy."
Luna continued to stare at Hermione while she ate.
Hermione shifted uncomfortably but focused on her food. Why can't she just eat?
"Draco Malfoy is quite handsome now, wouldn't you say?"
Hermione inhaled in shock and choked on her macaroni. She coughed as Luna handed her the gin she had brought to the table. Taking a swig from the bottle, Hermione composed herself and her breathing.
"Malfoy? Are you kidding? I didn't notice, he still stinks of that particular brand of prick. I was happy to see you and Neville more."
Luna took the bottle back and had a sip. "No you weren't, but that's okay. You wanted to spend the evening with Ron and Harry. Draco is very well-read and doesn't snivel as much as he did in school. In his own way too, he's quite charming." Luna finally took her first bite of casserole.
Hermione took a smaller bite, fearing for her life that Luna may tell her Romilda's next child would be a Hippogriff. She felt her temper rise slightly at Luna's tiptoeing. "Why are you telling me this, Luna?"
"They're traits I've noticed in him since he and Neville have become friends. I imagine you've been wondering why we were out to dinner with him."
"Yes, I was. Are they really friends? They couldn't be further opposites in school," Hermione asked.
"They get on quite famously, actually. As Neville said, when he left his post as Professor of Herbology at Hogwarts, Draco offered him a job the next day to run the Herbology sector for his Potions Unit. Now he's head of the entire Unit. I suppose he had been wanting to hire Neville since he took over Malfoy Industries but Headmistress McGonagall beat him to it," Luna explained.
"Why would Neville leave Hogwarts? I thought that would've been his dream job," Hermione wondered out loud.
Luna didn't respond for some time. She dreamily stared off into the kitchen as she had a couple of forkfuls of casserole.
During the silence, Hermione took the time to consider the grown-up Malfoy she had met. His face had filled out from being pointy, to angular and defined. His complexion and hair were still alarmingly pale. Although, he changed from his slicked-back hairstyle in favour of a shorter, perfectly tousled look. She snorted to herself, that seemed on point for a Malfoy, even his seemingly messy hair was fussy. Malfoy also seemed to have grown a bit since she last saw him at his trials and his build wasn't as lanky anymore. Now that she thought about it, Malfoy had always been somewhat attractive in a repulsive, arrogant, racist fucker sort of way.
Hermione jumped slightly when Luna finally spoke. "War is a curious thing, don't you think? It can physically and mentally manifest itself in people for so long. No matter how we distract ourselves, it's always there."
Hermione chased thoughts of Malfoy away and mulled over Luna's doctrine. Of course, Neville left because of the war. How could anyone stand to be there acting as if everything was normal? Especially after what Neville endured during his seventh year. Hermione swallowed the thought with some gin before she fell into a hole that she had masterfully filled over the years.
"I like that painting. What is it?" Luna asked, pointing across the dining room to her living room.
"It's a copy of Sarah Siddons as the Tragic Muse by a Muggle artist, Joshua Reynolds. She played the heroine of a very famous Muggle play called Macbeth. He painted her in the image of Melpoméne. The Greek Muse of Tragedy."
Neville and Luna's Floo opened straight into their study. Draco arrived promptly at seven to see Neville already sitting in one of two large, overstuffed chairs with a pile of books next to him.
"Hi, Draco!" Neville looked up from his book excitedly. "I found an entry about a plant that could be used to heighten one's Legilimency. This could be what we've been looking for! Finally non-responsive victims could communicate with their Healers." Neville was frantically scribbling notes as his idea flowed.
Draco gave Neville a tight smile, "I'll try to find something to brew with it." He grabbed two books from Neville's stack, removed his suit jacket and sat in the vacant chair. He cleared his throat and hesitantly asked, "How was seeing your parents?"
Neville's eyes darkened as he continued to stare at the parchment beneath his now still quill. "It was fine. I went for a run afterwards to help me think of these new research avenues."
Draco scoffed, "A run? How the fuck did you go for a run when you could barely make it into my office this afternoon?"
"Why all the questions? You're not usually one to be so nosey. Are you going to read or not?" Neville snapped.
Draco had to control the shock that threatened to bloom across his face. Neville never snapped. Well, maybe he didn't, Draco couldn't be sure because he had never enquired about anything in Neville's life before. There was no need to, they normally sat in silence and studied. But his discussion with Pansy and Theo got him curious about the cane as well. "Alright, alright. Relax." Draco took a beat before changing the subject. "What's that plant called?"
"Ayahuasca. Also known as yagé. It's okay… Sorry, I shouldn't have yelled. Sorry." Neville blushed as he pulled his book back into his lap.
"Ayahuasca… Why does that sound familiar?"
Neville snorted, "Because Muggles use it to get high."
Two hours passed in comfortable silence before the Floo roared to life and Luna stepped out with an empty casserole dish.
Neville's eyes lit up. "Hello, Love. How did Hermione like the casserole?"
Luna leaned down and kissed Neville on the cheek. "She enjoyed it very much. She asked for the recipe. Could you perhaps grow us a cashew tree? It would make it much easier to make all these vegan dishes. Hi Draco."
Draco curled his upper lip, "What's vegan?"
Luna sat on the arm of Neville's chair and dreamily stared at Draco, "It's a plant-based type of cuisine. No animals or animal by-products are used in the dish. It's quite a clever Muggle invention."
Draco looked back at his book and grunted indistinctly in response.
"It's really delicious, Draco. Maybe we'll have you round for dinner and make you something. I'll look into the tree, Luna. I think it's meant for a tropical environment so it may take awhile, but I'll see what I can do."
Still staring at the blond man, Luna squeezed Neville's hand in response. For the second time that evening, she startled one of her old classmates. "You should owl Hermione, Draco. I think you'd have plenty to talk about."
Draco slowly looked back up at Luna and sneered. "What the fuck could I possibly have to say? 'Hello Granger, sorry my deranged Aunt tortured you within an inch of your life in my family's home. Oh, and that I bombarded you with racial slurs every chance I got in school. Care for a spot of tea? Lovegood says we'd be good chums.'" He scoffed and shook his head at the ludicrous idea. She would probably try to curse him the second he got close enough.
"It would be a good icebreaker," Luna smiled and sashayed out of the room.
Draco watched her as if Looney Lovegood was finally off her rocker. "Honestly man, how have you been with that for years?"
"Oi, watch it," Neville warned. "Find any leads?"
"Goyle's set the bloody place on fire!"
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Draco's own scream woke him. He could feel the heat of the FiendFyre, he could still see the look on his childhood friend's face. He remembered Greg Goyle's screams as he fell to his undoubtedly painful death into the monster he had conjured. Draco's cuts were still bloody and angry, he scratched at them to open them back up. He rested his head in his hands and sobbed for his lost friend. He cried until he couldn't produce any more tears.
He picked himself up out of bed, battling the dangerous thoughts that were pulling him towards his potions cabinet. His feet were heavy on his walk to the kitchen, threatening to drag him back.
He'd bought this flat once he had access to his family's money after his trials because he had no desire to ever set foot in the Manor again. He shuddered at the threatening memories and pushed them away as he focused on downing ice-cold water. He drank deeply to chase away the heat of the FiendFyre. He refilled his cup and drank until his throat ached and his belly bulged slightly from the cold.
Narcissa still lived at the Manor, unable to leave what was once where she had a supposed happy family. Whenever Draco saw her it was at a restaurant or at his flat. He hadn't returned for Lucius' funeral. The bastard didn't deserve a burial plot, his body should have rotted in Azkaban where he died.
Fuming at his dreams, the betrayal of his father, the stubbornness of his mother, his aching need for a dreamless sleep, Draco punched the sleek tile backsplash. The slate grey tiles cracked under his fist. He wound up and punched again, continuing until he was through the plaster and his knuckles were mangled beyond recognition.
He slid his bare back down the cold black cabinets and ran his good hand through his hair. A few stray tears leaked absently down his face as he stared off into the ether, suddenly drained from his anger.
Draco woke, slumped on his kitchen floor, seemingly only a few moments after closing his eyes to an owl tapping at the window. Grunting at his sore back and coccyx, he stood and opened the window for the unfamiliar tawny bird. Around its leg was a tiny parchment.
Coffee? Wotcher. Diagon Alley.
H.
He let out a dark incredulous laugh. Lovegood dropped the hint to both of us. Draco replied in the affirmative; at least if she attacked him in public, he'd have witnesses on his side. He hoped. He jogged upstairs to shower and heal his wounds.
While toweling himself off Draco looked at himself in the mirror. He looked like shit. Dark bags under pink swollen eyes, stubble over his cheeks. Really, he looked like Lupin after one of his monthly transformations. He ran some product through his hair, shaved and cast a glamour charm on his face. Hopefully, that'll last or Granger's going to get a nasty surprise.
Once dressed in a dark grey two-piece suit with the top button of his white oxford undone, Draco stepped outside his front door to Apparate to Diagon Alley to find whatever Wotcher was.
A/N: Thanks for stopping by to read chapter two! I've decided to upload every other day, so hopefully, that'll keep you beasts sated!