One-Way Ticket

Chapter 24: What Really Happened Part II

The inside of the casino was very dark, and Draco didn't particularly see very much of it, for his new friend led him directly to the bar, where they were served whisky on ice by an elderly bartender who seemed to know his new friend very well, and gave of the air of having seen too many things to have a further care in the world. It was sharp and rich on his tongue as Draco tipped it back, observing his friend who did the same.

"You ever had these before?" asked his new friend, he had a very smooth and rich voice, one that seemed to invite conversation.

"All the time," said Draco, tipping another back, and it was indeed an expensive brand he'd had before at least once at his place. He could tell his new friend seemed to take that into account for Draco didn't grimace at the sharp burn as much as perhaps a complete first-timer would, "You drink a lot?"

"My second wife would say I have a problem," said his friend, before roaring with laughter, Draco followed his lead, guessing that the punchline was the second wife part, and maybe he didn't really have one - just a series of drunken girls on one night stands perhaps.

"I'll treat you to a better one. My tab," said his friend, waving the bartender over, a wonderfully dark green drink appeared, "You've got to try something you haven't before tonight. Anyways, I'm Alfredo. Alfredo Magnificado. And you are?" he asked, the hand he offered for Draco to shake punctured his thoughts at the ridiculous name. He shook hands before he lost the window of time where it was impolite to wait further to do so. Perhaps it was because he was a muggle and Draco still had some unfamiliarities with muggles, that the name didn't ring an alarm bell so much. Perhaps muggles really did have those names. What would he know.

"Edward, Edward Cromwell," said Draco, resulting to an old name he would pretend to be as a kid. It was inspired from the old English kings and queens in the 1600s that apparently the Malfoys used to run into and use magic to somehow trick them into obtaining surrounding land nearby, adding to the Malfoy wealth. His parents had told him of this section of the family history, though obviously instructed him to keep quiet, and he would look at the faces that were more amicable with the Malfoys during their descendants time decorated around the family tree in the family tapestry, and fancied a king a nice profession. When Crabbe and Goyle were over as kids, they'd sometimes pick characters to be conquering the land and Draco would pretend to be King Cromwell. In hindsight it was actually a muggle he was pretending, but somehow the king aspect seemed to make it cool back then and it just seemed like royalty to him, and not anything else, oh to be that young and innocent of all prejudice...

If Alfred gave a slight twitch of his ears or raise of his eyebrows at that, Draco wasn't sure if it was his imagination or not, as he continued sipping the drink. Alfred motioned for a top-up. It was pleasant, but strong, and indeed something he hadn't tried before.

"So what are you here for?" asked Alfred, sipping some more of his drink.

"A new job and trying to sell an old car," said Draco, knowing full well if he mentioned just the car he would be seen as someone to con things out of, truthfully, he wouldn't mind discussing options on how to get rid of it. As great as it was, he was aware that he couldn't keep the car when he returned to Hogwarts and something would have to be done about it eventually, "What business are you doing here?"

"The usual, I'm always around these areas. It's none of your business exactly what it is though. I'm a...magician of sorts. But that's an art in itself too," said Alfred, sipping his drink with a grin, "I had a friend that had a car he wanted to get rid of..."

A magician? He didn't know what that was, but it had the same ending as a dental technician, that he'd heard before, so it sounded like a formal job of sorts. One Draco didn't think was worth questioning.

And just like that, Alfredo spun tales upon tales of his exploits. Calling back stories of his friends, who seemed to get into amazing things, selling secondhand cars like it was nothing and wrangling a surprisingly good deal out of someone who just miraculously wanted to have that particular car off his hands, winning big at casinos, the great game, the 'big night' that had been looked forward to for a long time, catching wind of a new drug dealer that just arrived in town who miraculously had just a little to spare, not enough to get caught, but enough to have fun, of hidden secrets, beautiful women. The stories went on, each with a new twist, and Draco was finding them particularly interesting and enjoying the slights of tongue from his friend, even if at the back of his mind, he knew most of them were probably fucking bullshit. Alfredo was the first person he heard real tales from, or the closest to real tales, about exploits in the muggle world, and although it wasn't what he planned on doing, it was interesting, afterall, his three friends Alfred, Henry and Lidge were teenagers at most, and whatever tales they had more or less toed those restrictions.

It was nice and Alfredo seemed to keep talking, with great grandeur and penchant for telling stories, Draco had the vague idea he wasn't expecting any real input from him and he was going to be treated to a nice series of stories so he lapped it up and laughed or smiled at all the right moments.

It wasn't bad really.

Except for the growing rage that seemed to rise within him. While he was listening to Alfredo, his mind was flashing to the muggle world and back to the wizarding world. Perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps it was the alias of Edward Cromwell he was taking, which he was bitterly reminded of with every 'Edward, as I was saying...' from Alfredo that seemed to pull him back, but a part of him resented the wizarding world and longed for the freedom of the muggle world.

Yes, in the wizarding world he was rich. Yes, he had riches beyond his wildest dreams, and he supposed he never noticed just how much galleons was in his family's bank vault, that seemed disposable at his reach - nothing, no toy, no event, no tool, that he ever wanted seemed to cost too much, and yes he had fame and his family name was enough to strike respect in the hearts of many well-adjusted people who knew the wizarding world politics but...he lacked the freedom to do what he wanted. He couldn't get any job he wanted, he couldn't marry any woman he wanted, he couldn't live any lifestyle he wanted, and he couldn't be friends with any person he wanted, and if he did...it would be seen as betrayal...betraying age-held battle lines or long-held virtues, it would be seen as betraying his family, who worked so long and hard, all for it to go to waste with what he did. He would never have that freedom to be as he was or do as he wanted to, in the muggle world, that he did in the wizarding world. And...suddenly things flashed in Draco's eye. Being allowed to do what he wanted to do, with just his parents support. If the pureblood pathway was to do a job, any job, and do it well, or pick out any life and his parents would support him. Any wife. Suddenly his mind flashed of Hermione. Happy images of her in their younger years at Hogwarts, the sun beaming down on her head of bushy curls, that gleam of excitement and wonder in her eye, oh as if she wasn't enthralled and entranced by the castle. Of walking through the Hogwarts corridors; sunshine and laughter in the fresh chilly air, of long conversations and fingers laced together, of studying together (she was one of the few students who matched him in how seriously they took their studies, or he, her), of going on little dates and talking to her, actually talking to her, about her real thoughts or opinions on little things. Of actually being allowed to fall in love with...a girl who cared about her studies, as Draco did when he began Hogwarts per his parents requests, but actually found in Slytherin a fair amount didn't care about studies as much as they had their purebloodedness, or just quite frankly weren't interested in it, and there was some overlap there. A girl who was classy and had a respect for manners, someone who...in another world perhaps they could have been together. Maybe, in a way, they were perfect for each other...

Perhaps if all the blood politics didn't exist, and Draco was simply a normal student, he would have walked into Hogwarts, seen Hermione was the ideal girlfriend from the start and waltzed her away before anyone else even had a chance. Perhaps...and suddenly he saw it. This summer holidays, the trip, seemed to show him all the positives and complexities about the muggle world, and the freedom of choices beyond familial snares, as well as the subtle, but present, good points of Hermione. Her patience, her explanations, her care, the banterous conversations they had back and forth...perhaps...the broken portkey functioned as a one-way-ticket to another world, another reality, in more ways than one, that once seen, could not be unseen...

Draco was pulled out of his thoughts by a dark shape looming over him. "Wanna fight?" Alfredo had gotten up, a steely glint in his eye, Draco followed a little unsteadily, suddenly aware of how much he drank and the effects truly beginning to weigh down on him. "There's an old game we used to play. Don't really know a man til you fight them. First fight to see who's the real boss," he said, squaring up his knuckles and cracking them, "But I give you a chance. Lots of times the little blokes come out on top. I'm excited to see where this is going to go," he finished, beginning to jump on his toes a little bit.

The bartender began to move some glasses out of the way without even batting an eye, whistling a merry tune as he polished the insides of...how many glasses had Draco drank and watched the bartender now scrub dry after washing?

"Alright," Draco said, figuring that if the bartender did that it meant it was a fairly common thing and others rose to the challenge - he didn't want to look stupid after all, "Give me your best hit," he said, getting into a stance as well.

"On three," said Alfredo, "one...two...three-"

He started of with a light punch, Draco was able to block, his blood pumping through his veins, heart racing, he gave an upper to Alfredo's cheek. It seemed to catch him of guard and he stumbled back slightly, close to losing his centre of balance, perhaps this wouldn't be too bad...

Suddenly the fight flipped and Alfredo charged at Draco with three mean left hooks that left his cheek bones bruised and his eyes watering, and it seemed Alfredo was holding back, for he suddenly executed a series of sharp, sudden, painful moves, with pain sizzling and ricocheting all throughout Draco's body, as he was flipped upside down and landed on the floor. The room blurred, a lightness, whether from all the drinks or the fight, left him feeling like he was losing reality, and although he didn't pass out, he knew he was disencumbered from steadily processing reality for that moment, as he felt his hearing buzz and a tall dark shape kick him over and cuss at him. "First rule of not being a wanker," said the man, his voice dropping low and gravelly in a sneer, "is to not accept a fight after drinks you've had you shit. It's not a fair fight you loser. And that's just the first of a long line of things you need to learn if you want to be half as successful as I am," and with that the dark shape left.

The bartender offered Draco a mint and lemon water. He was about to accept when...a familiar buzz sounded in his pocket. He placed an arm out on the counter and shifted his weight there, trying to catch his breath as he answered. That damn Alfredo, and it wasn't even a stupid rule - what did his father say - it's not a fair duel if you were served drinks you never had before it, but why hadn't be noticed it in the muggle setting? Maybe it was the new muggle drinks, or the casino environment, or the fact that it was a fight not a duel, but either way, he focused his thoughts on sounding nonchalant as he pressed the answer button.

"Draco?" Hermione hissed into the receiver. Merlin's beard, had it really been several hours, and she'd finished dinner already? "What are you doing? Have you got settled in yet? Have they given you the hotel key and everything? There's a small black rectangular box you have to scan the barcode through-"

"Yes. Everything's fine. You don't worry. I've got everything settled in now," said Draco, trying to imagine what he would sound like if he did have everything settled, getting the hotel key, finding his room, unlocking the door...

"Have you unlocked your room to check that it works? And put your bags underneath the bed? It's the safest place for valuables in case of a theft. Oh you don't have bags. Best to sleep with your wallet underneath your pillow then. Charge your cellphone also, there's ports near the ground on the wall. Have you found them yet?"

"Yes. Yes. No need to worry. Everything's fine and settled here," said Draco, slightly irritated by the amount of questions he was expected to answer. His phone started cracking up, the casino had even worse reception than the lobby, he turned and tried to head back to the lobby.

The bartender watched him with a wordless shrug as he then cleared the lemon and mint water.

"Where are you? You're not in the hotel room are you? What's your room key? Repeat it to me?" Hermione's voice came over the phone. Draco almost tripped on a rug on the floor, his eyes taking a while to adjust to the sudden brightness of the hotel lobby.

"Uh, it's uh. It's a silver one," he managed to say, "a big intricate silver one. Lots of notches."

A pause.

"Where are you right now? Are you alright?" came Hermione's response not a moment longer.

"What makes you think that? You have no clue to say that," said Draco, now slightly defensive. It didn't help that the effects of the alcohol were really starting to kick in as well as the pain, and not in a way that detracted from it. He would most likely be hungover the next morning.

"Oh my god. Are you alright?"

A headache and sudden lurch of nausea threatened him, he placed a hand on the table with flowers on top to steady himself, and was relieved to feel the grumble of his stomach. Relief flooding through, momentarily drowning out the pain, oh good, it was only hunger pangs. It had been a while since he'd last eaten.

"I should be. I've never felt more alright than right now." Suddenly he felt a little okay. He was just hungry, he just needed to sober up a bunch, and maybe possibly make the biggest confession of his life to Hermione, and then...the muggle utopia and all the days left of the summer holidays loomed out before him in his mind's eye, of returning to Hogwarts as a couple...a wave of giddiness from being slightly drunk took over.

"You don't sound okay? Please don't space out on me..."

"I won't. I have more to live for. Whatever happens I won't lose my mind, and I'll be back. I swear," he said, a mix of drunk and confounded. Almost as if on cue, his phone had died.

"Drat," he cursed, having a bad feeling about Hermione's reaction.

Meanwhile...

"550, sweet," said Alfredo, turning over Draco's wallet that had been so easy to pull once that shitty bloke had fallen on the ground, writhing pathetically after the fight. It was so easy, what he did, and there was a new sucker born every day, as well as a billion other tricks up his sleeve. A grin split his teeth, it was the same story each time and Edward was no different, if that was even this fucker's name...they had a habit of lying, each new sucker who thought they could outsmart him...

"Hey what's this...a car he's trying to get rid of but no car license..." his eyes lit up.

Author's Note: Thank you so much for the two reviews on last chapter! It's so encouraging to see a response after such a long time and that there's still interest in this story! Please review, all thoughts would be absolutely appreciated and loved. Hope y'all doing well and have a good day/night after reading this~~

-WhymsicalBell