Part 2

The London flat was on the forth floor of a large building with a lift that was broke down. By the time Ron got up the stairs he felt as though he were going to pass out. He rang the bell twice, paused, than rang it again.

"Hold up!" came a voice from somewhere in the middle of the flat. Moments later Ron heard the click of three locks. "You had better have a lot of money on you," the voice said as the door swung open.

Draco looked at Ron with mild disgust. "Oh. It's just you." He clutched his towel tight around his waist and stalked back into the bathroom, his wet hair dripping down his back and on the floor. He emerged a minute later, barefoot and shirtless, in a pair of worn jeans. Ron noticed a large white scar on his left shoulder. "Are you out already? You were just here three days ago. I know you can't afford this."

"I don't need any Drugs. Well, I do, but...Draco, can I crash on your couch for a couple nights...or forever?"

Draco laughed at the insane idea of him actually doing a Weasley a favor. Despite what they had gone through, old grudges still pushed their way into his mind. "What's wrong? Your mum finally kick you out?"

"Sort of." Ron groaned and collapsed on the couch in the middle of the room. "Please?"

"Sure, Weasley." Family grudges weren't that important anymore. "But don't go digging your nose where it doesn't belong. I find out you've been taking free samples, you're out of here."

"Got it."

"Okay." He walked over to the kitchen and pulled two beers out of the refrigerator. "Here." He tossed one to Ron, which he caught clumsily. "So, you finally decide to make that jump into the real world."

"The Muggle world, you mean."

Draco waved him away. "Whatever."

"Not so bad, is it?"

Draco grinned wryly. "Sometimes I wish I'd taken Muggle studies."

"Wouldn't of helped much though, would it? Cocaine, heroin, marijuana? They didn't teach that stuff."

"Maybe, but do you know how long it took me to realize that CD's make music? And using my computer? I'm still figuring that one out."

"You've got a computer?"

"Yeah." The doorbell rang. "Hold that thought." Draco got up and answered the door.

It was a man in his early thirties, grizzled and dirty. "Give me as much as you can for this." He shoved a couple of worn notes into Draco's hand.

Draco took the money and left the room, returning a few moments later with a small plastic bag holding s miniscule amount of white powder. The man clawed it out of Draco's hand greedily, and rushed away down the hall.

Ron was staring when Malfoy turned back to him. "That's going to be you some day," he said seriously.

"No it won't."

"You're stupid."

"Hey Malfoy, you're the one dealing this stuff. You're hurting other people. I'm just hurting myself. And that's how I like it."

Draco had only heard one word. "Never, ever use that name," he hissed. "I hear it once more from your lips, and you will regret it like you have regretted nothing else in your entire life."

"Sorry," he muttered. "I forgot."

"You bloody well better not forget again. I have one name." He stressed the word. "One." He turned and marched out of the room, leaving Ron staring at the wall.

Draco slammed his bedroom door and collapsed on his bed. Maybe Ron, almost but never a friend, could forget, but he never would. Draco would remember it all.

It was his father's fault that he had ended up in the shabby muggle flat. Said that he was an important part of the Dark Lord's plan. He hadn't known any better. Had thought of it as a chance to prove he wasn't some useless brat.

Despite the tightened security during their seventh year at Hogwarts, the Dark Lord had managed to get into the forbidden forest. For two reasons. To kill Harry Potter, and to render Dumbledore powerless against him, forced to watch as Voldemort destroyed the wizarding world.

It was Draco's job to lure Harry into the woods, then get out before he was noticed missing. It worked well enough, except Ron and Hermione followed.

As punishment for the error he was bestowed the same fate as the other three. Their powers were stripped from them, and Draco ran into the woods. Dumbledore appeared right after that, but it was too late for Harry. Draco had watched from the trees as Voldemort performed Avada Kedavra on Harry, the Headmaster arriving as his body dropped to the ground. That was plenty for Draco. He ran after that, and never bothered to know how the Dark Lord was finally defeated.

Feeling betrayed by his own, and neither wizard nor muggle, he forgot his last name and retreated to London, where he began a work dishonest and illegal. Though he lived as a muggle, and most of his customers were such, he still dipped into the lowest parts of wizard culture. He felt that he were as close to rock bottom as he could get.

he thought to himself superiorly, He hauled himself off of the bed and started rummaging around in his closet, pulling out clothing.

***

Ron was watching the television when Draco entered the living room. "I never actually sat down and watched, one of these things," Ron said to him, keeping his eyes glued to the screen. "It's pretty neat."

"You're strange." Draco picked up a pack of cigarettes off the coffee table. "Half in the muggle world, half in the wizard."

Ron looked over at Draco, staring at his outfit. "I'm strange? You're the one wearing leather trousers."

"I'm hitting the bar."

"I could get laggered up." He clearly wanted to go.

Draco looked pained. "I'm going to regret this decision very soon. Yes, you can come."

"Great. We can take my car."

They walked through the parking deck below the building, stopping in front of Ron's car. Draco took one look at it. "We'll take my car."

The Neon Room wasn't very big and fairly crowded. When Draco and Ron entered they were immediately hit with the sound of a cat dying. "Bollocks. I forgot it was karaoke night. Ah well." He marched Ron over to a pair of empty bar stools.

One of the bar tenders, a young woman with curly red hair and a generous chest, came over to them. "Hey handsome," she said, leaning over the bar and kissing Draco on the cheek. "You were supposed to come by last night."

He shrugged. "Got distracted." She frowned at him. "Tonight, I promise." He changed the subject. "Deirdre, this is Ron, an old school chum of mine. Sort of. He's bumming on my couch for a couple of weeks."

She smiled in Ron's direction. "So what can I get you boys?"

"Just a beer," Draco said.

"The highest proof you've got," was Ron's reply. Draco stared at him as Deirdre bustled off. "Hey, my mum took my Drugs. Gotta use some other method to pass out."

"If you do, I'll dump you in an alley way. I'm not hauling your carcass back with me."

Ron shrugged. "Fair enough."

"That stuff is already turning your brain, you know that? I mean, by all accounts you should have tried to kill me by now."

Ron looked at Draco seriously. "Desperate times." He shrugged. "I could say the same of you."

Draco smiled as Deirdre returned with their drinks. He lifted his beer bottle in a mock toast. "Desperate measures." Ron didn't return the smile.

"What are you boys being so serious about?" Deirdre teased, leaning on the bar.

"The past, luv," Draco replied, raising his bottle towards her. "To desperation."

"You're a sad lot," she replied.

Ron nodded as he picked up his shot glass, which held a dark, slightly green tinted liquid. "You have no idea." He tilted back his head and downed it in one swallow. Immediately he began coughing. "What the hell did you just give me?" he exclaimed hoarsely.

Deirdre laughed. "You'll have to ask Draco. It's of his invention. Made one for me one night, and I knew I had to serve it. He won't share the recipe. Just wants to squeeze more money out of my sister and I. It's called the Death Potion."

Ron looked at Draco, alarmed. "Relax," Draco hissed, leaning towards him. "It's just a butter beer base with a little--a lot--of kick. Muggles love the stuff." Ron gaped. "It's fine, really."

"Gimme another," Ron said after consideration. Deirdre laughed, and moved to the other side of the bar. "You could get thrown into Azkaban for this. The Misuse of Magic Office would have your head on a silver platter."

"I'm hardly noticeable. It's not as though I use actual magic...."

Ron looked down at his feet. "Right."

Deirdre came back with a second round, and by the third, Ron was on the stage singing as off-pitched as any of the other patrons. "This-this next song," he slurred into the microphone, "is for Myrtle, the only person who ever gives a fuck about me." He only knew the chorus. "I don't want, anybody else. When I think about you I touch myself...."

Draco and Deirdre watched with amusement. "Your friend is completely rat-arsed!"

"I picked out the song for him," Draco bragged.

"Who's Myrtle?"

"Who knows. I don't think I want to."

"You should take him home before he does something even more stupid. My shift ends in an hour." She touched his arm. "I'll be by in a bit."

"Fine," Draco agreed. "Put his drinks on my tab. I doubt the poor bastard's got two pounds to rub together." He kissed her briefly, then went off to collect Ron.

**************

*A/N 2: heehee. drugdealer!Draco. Don't 'cha love it? Next chapter, Draco plays with his chemistry set, and we venture into the depths of Knockturn Alley.