Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters are copyrighted to J. K. Rowling. I do not own the characters in this story.
A/N: Please R&R
CHAPTER THREE
That morning, Draco had donned a baby sweater and dressy black pants. He looked confident and professional without seeming over-serious. Hopefully this was a look some muggle company would be willing to hire.
Draco set out, aimlessly wandering the early morning streets and scrutinizing the stores as he passed. He saw a tiny little second-hand store, a noisy pet shop, and a toy store thronged with small children. Such vulgar places, all of them. A Malfoy was better than this; a Malfoy would never work in such wretched little stores.
After another half-hour of slow walking, Draco found himself on a busy London street standing outside of the Leaky Cauldron. He had unconsciously led himself to the only place in London where he felt he belonged.
"Draco, what are you doing?" he muttered softly to himself in a chastising tone. "Suck it up and apply somewhere. Nothing's ever going to be good enough at this rate."
Resolutely, Draco marched down the block and into a cheerful red and blue shop called Gadgets Extreme.
"I'd like to apply for a job," he announced airily to the sales clerk.
"I'm the manager, I do the hiring." A lady in her thirties stepped over to him. "Here's the application," and she handed over a white form.
"We specialize in CD players," she informed him. "Selling and repairing. Are you familiar with the workings of the major brands?"
Huh? CD players? What the hell are those? Draco thought, looking around the store for the first time. It was filled with black and silver contraption. He had no idea what they were.
"Nevermind." Draco shoved the empty application back at the manager and rushed ungracefully from the store.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. You should have known, he berated himself angrily. He couldn't apply at a store that sold stuff only muggles used. He didn't know what any of it was.
Draco stormed down the street with a deep scowl. Cheerful signs in every store mocked him. "Vacuums Half-Off!", "100 Types of Press-On Nails!", "Name Brand Computers!", "Smallest Ever Camcorders!", "A Magical Wizard World!"
Draco stopped dead in his tracks. What the hell? A Magical Wizard World?
He was staring at the entrance of a muggle shop decorated with a ridiculous looking cardboard cutout of a long-bearded old man wearing blue robes decorated with silver stars. So tacky.
As Draco looked through the large windows of the shop, he wanted to laugh. The glowing candles and fabric-draped walls made him think of the make-me- puke trying-too-hard overly-mystical decorations of Trewlaney's classroom back at Hogwarts.
"Muggles," he muttered to himself. "What idiots."
Still, the store seemed to be some kind of dessert and coffee shop. And those were things Draco knew about. Espresso and latte, pie and eclair, those items were common ground to muggles and wizards. With a new burst of enthusiasm, Draco decided that this would be a good place to apply.
"Don't act like an idiot this time," he quietly ordered himself as he walked inside- and gaped liked a moron.
Harry Potter- Harry Potter- the fucking Boy Who Lived of all people- was standing there gapping back at him.
Harry desperately attempted to regain his composure.
Malfoy! This is it. My cover's blown, he thought ruefully. Malfoy will tell them I'm a wizard and they'll fire me and – No. Surely not even Malfoy would be idiot enough to tell a room full of muggles that there were wizards amoung him. He'll probably just tell the Daily Prophet. Which amounts to the same thing. Either way, I'm screwed.
Harry watched dumbly as his nemesis strode irately across the room and stopped inches in front of him.
"What are you doing here?" Malfoy hissed with venom.
"I work here," Harry replied, trying to keep his voice even.
"Working in this dump, Potter?" Malfoy drawled. "How the mighty have fallen."
Harry shot him a dirty look. "Well, what are you doing here, Malfoy?"
The blond sneered and opened his mouth to respond. But he seemed to think better of answering because he hastily slammed his mouth shut and glared at the boy in front of him.
Malfoy's unexpected silence filled Harry with new confidence.
"Well?" he prodded. "Why are you here?"
"Mind your own business, Potter. I can be here if I want."
"Actually, no. I'm the manager here. And if you don't intend to buy anything, I'll have to ask you to leave."
Harry was shocked as Malfoy turned on his heel, apparently intending to carry out Harry's request. But as the blond passed through the doors, Harry again realized that Malfoy was probably intending to sell him out to the highest bidding wizard newspaper.
"Malfoy! Wait!" Harry hurried to catch up with the retreating blond, reaching him just outside the store.
"Look, Malfoy," he said nervously, "are you uh planning on telling anyone you saw me here today?"
"And admit a Malfoy dirtied his shoe with the filth of a muggle establishment?" Draco sneered.
Harry was stumped. His rival made a good point. Malfoys did not wander around muggle neighborhoods for any reason. I wonder what he's up to, Harry thought.
"Alright," Harry said slowly. "I'll make a deal with you. I won't tell anyone that you 'dirtied yourself with a muggle establishment' as you say, if you don't tell anyone that you ever saw me here."
"You don't want anyone to know that you're here?" Malfoy asked with surprised smirk.
Harry nervously countered, "I don't. But you can't tell them I work here without admitting you were here too."
Malfoy responded with a wicked little I-have-a-plan sneer. Harry could tell he was carefully putting the pieces of a plot together in his head.
"You said you're the manager, right?"
Harry nervously had to agree that he was.
"Great," Malfoy said triumphantly. "I won't let anyone know where you work, but I'll tell you what I want in exchange."
Harry sighed. Malfoy could ask for almost anything and Harry would carry through. He just wasn't ready to give up this pleasant little retreat from the wizard world. Although he didn't know how pleasant life would continue to be with Malfoy blackmailing him.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry growled. He'd decide what to do when he heard Malfoy's offer.
"A job."
"What?" Harry asked incredulously.
"You heard me," Malfoy snapped. "Look, Potter, I'm in this stupid muggle hellhole for the same reason you are- I need to hide from the magical world for awhile. That means I need muggle money. And you're going to give me a way to get it. Because if I'm going done, you sure as hell are coming with me."
Harry was still suspicious. "What are you hiding from?"
"Are you going to give me a job?" Malfoy countered.
Harry felt the balance of power shift back to himself. Malfoy seemed more desperate to remain hidden than he did. So Harry still had some leverage in this situation.
"I'll give you the job if you tell me what you're running from," Harry said. "But otherwise, no. If you're fleeing to muggle London for a job, then this is something big. I deserve to know what you're running from, what you did that I'm letting you hide from."
"I didn't do anything," Malfoy raged. "And you have no right to ask about my life. I don't owe you anything!"
"If you did something bad - if you're some kind of fugitive – and you want me to help you escape justice then you do owe me. I have a right to know what you did that I'm letting you escape justice from!"
Harry realized he was shouting and silently ordered himself to calm down. Even though he was outside Merlin's, if he got any louder his employees inside would be able to hear this fight. Draco seemed to have the same idea about privacy because he lowered his voice as he responded.
"Look, Potter, I really haven't done anything wrong. Just give me the damn job."
"Just tell me, Malfoy," Harry responded calmly. He could see his opponent was weakening.
"Fine," Malfoy snapped, but he didn't volunteer anything further.
Harry waited patiently as the defeated boy in front of him worked up the resolve to speak.
"My father broke out of Azkaban," Malfoy began.
Harry's eyes opened wide with shock. "What? How?"
"I don't know," Malfoy snapped. "It's not important. The point is, he did it. He's out. And he's building up an army to take over where You-Know- Who left off. He wants to take over the world, and he asked me to help him. He said if I refused, he'd come after me with his 'army' and 'destroy' me. But I refused anyway. And now I have to hide because I don't know who the hell he could have ordered to come after me. So I'm stuck here, in stupid muggle London, so I don't accidentally run into my darling father's army of assassins."
"Oh," Harry said stupidly.
"Yeah-'Oh'," Draco mocked snidely. "I'm being hunted by a dark wizard who plans to kill me and then take over the world with his army of faithful minions. Do you have any idea what I'm going through?"
"I can imagine," Harry said dryly.
Malfoy shot him a startled look, the dawn of his slow realization showing plainly on his face.
"I understand, Malfoy. I know how scared you must be."
"I'm not scared!" The blond protested heatedly.
Harry ignored him. "I'll hire you, you just have to never forget to act like a muggle at work."
"I won't forget. I'm not stupid, Potter."
Harry uneasily shot him an appeasing smile. "Right. Sorry. Come on inside and we'll fill out the paperwork."
Harry led the way into a back office where he pulled the job application out for Malfoy. The boy hunched over the paper silently for a minute before looking up uneasily.
"Yes?" asked Harry suspiciously.
"Do I need to write an address?" Malfoy indicated the section asking for his home address and phone number.
"Yeah. Why?"
"I don't really have one. I thought I'd just kinda, you know, move between hotels and stuff. Make it harder for my father to track me."
"Why don't you just buy a house and put unplottable wards on it?" Harry asked reasonably.
Malfoy scowled. "I don't know how to do that," he muttered.
Harry knew how difficult it must have been for his rival to make that confession. In an act of good will, he made his own small confession just to make Malfoy feel a little better.
"I don't actually know how to do it, either," he admitted. "It was actually Dumbledore who cast the spell for me on my apartment. It's really complicated but extremely powerful. It's the same spell that makes Hogwarts unplottable. And I'm sure I'm safe from anyone trying to trace me back home. There's no way anyone could break this spell."
"Well good for you, Potter," Malfoy muttered sarcastically. "I'm just so glad you're all safe and cozy back at home."
Oops. Harry had only made the unhappy blond feel even worse.
"I mean, I can get Dumbledore to cast the spell for you if you get an apartment," he offered.
"No!" Malfoy responded sharply. "I don't want him knowing I'm here. I don't want anyone knowing. That's part of the deal. You tell no one about me."
Grey eyes surveyed Harry maliciously. "You tell no one, okay? Not even the Weasel and the mudblood."
Harry winced at the cold nicknames, but reluctantly agreed. He knew that he could never convince his enemy of seven years to trust any of his friends to keep a vow of secrecy.
"Well, you still need an address," Harry said as he averted his eyes from the Slytherin's suspicious gaze.
"That's fine," Malfoy returned silkily. "It turns out I do have an address after all."
Harry was confused. "You said you were living in a hotel."
"Oh I was. But I very recently discovered a secure little location where I can hide away from anyone out to get me."
"Great," Harry said. "Where are you staying?"
"Your apartment."
A/N: Please R&R
CHAPTER THREE
That morning, Draco had donned a baby sweater and dressy black pants. He looked confident and professional without seeming over-serious. Hopefully this was a look some muggle company would be willing to hire.
Draco set out, aimlessly wandering the early morning streets and scrutinizing the stores as he passed. He saw a tiny little second-hand store, a noisy pet shop, and a toy store thronged with small children. Such vulgar places, all of them. A Malfoy was better than this; a Malfoy would never work in such wretched little stores.
After another half-hour of slow walking, Draco found himself on a busy London street standing outside of the Leaky Cauldron. He had unconsciously led himself to the only place in London where he felt he belonged.
"Draco, what are you doing?" he muttered softly to himself in a chastising tone. "Suck it up and apply somewhere. Nothing's ever going to be good enough at this rate."
Resolutely, Draco marched down the block and into a cheerful red and blue shop called Gadgets Extreme.
"I'd like to apply for a job," he announced airily to the sales clerk.
"I'm the manager, I do the hiring." A lady in her thirties stepped over to him. "Here's the application," and she handed over a white form.
"We specialize in CD players," she informed him. "Selling and repairing. Are you familiar with the workings of the major brands?"
Huh? CD players? What the hell are those? Draco thought, looking around the store for the first time. It was filled with black and silver contraption. He had no idea what they were.
"Nevermind." Draco shoved the empty application back at the manager and rushed ungracefully from the store.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. You should have known, he berated himself angrily. He couldn't apply at a store that sold stuff only muggles used. He didn't know what any of it was.
Draco stormed down the street with a deep scowl. Cheerful signs in every store mocked him. "Vacuums Half-Off!", "100 Types of Press-On Nails!", "Name Brand Computers!", "Smallest Ever Camcorders!", "A Magical Wizard World!"
Draco stopped dead in his tracks. What the hell? A Magical Wizard World?
He was staring at the entrance of a muggle shop decorated with a ridiculous looking cardboard cutout of a long-bearded old man wearing blue robes decorated with silver stars. So tacky.
As Draco looked through the large windows of the shop, he wanted to laugh. The glowing candles and fabric-draped walls made him think of the make-me- puke trying-too-hard overly-mystical decorations of Trewlaney's classroom back at Hogwarts.
"Muggles," he muttered to himself. "What idiots."
Still, the store seemed to be some kind of dessert and coffee shop. And those were things Draco knew about. Espresso and latte, pie and eclair, those items were common ground to muggles and wizards. With a new burst of enthusiasm, Draco decided that this would be a good place to apply.
"Don't act like an idiot this time," he quietly ordered himself as he walked inside- and gaped liked a moron.
Harry Potter- Harry Potter- the fucking Boy Who Lived of all people- was standing there gapping back at him.
Harry desperately attempted to regain his composure.
Malfoy! This is it. My cover's blown, he thought ruefully. Malfoy will tell them I'm a wizard and they'll fire me and – No. Surely not even Malfoy would be idiot enough to tell a room full of muggles that there were wizards amoung him. He'll probably just tell the Daily Prophet. Which amounts to the same thing. Either way, I'm screwed.
Harry watched dumbly as his nemesis strode irately across the room and stopped inches in front of him.
"What are you doing here?" Malfoy hissed with venom.
"I work here," Harry replied, trying to keep his voice even.
"Working in this dump, Potter?" Malfoy drawled. "How the mighty have fallen."
Harry shot him a dirty look. "Well, what are you doing here, Malfoy?"
The blond sneered and opened his mouth to respond. But he seemed to think better of answering because he hastily slammed his mouth shut and glared at the boy in front of him.
Malfoy's unexpected silence filled Harry with new confidence.
"Well?" he prodded. "Why are you here?"
"Mind your own business, Potter. I can be here if I want."
"Actually, no. I'm the manager here. And if you don't intend to buy anything, I'll have to ask you to leave."
Harry was shocked as Malfoy turned on his heel, apparently intending to carry out Harry's request. But as the blond passed through the doors, Harry again realized that Malfoy was probably intending to sell him out to the highest bidding wizard newspaper.
"Malfoy! Wait!" Harry hurried to catch up with the retreating blond, reaching him just outside the store.
"Look, Malfoy," he said nervously, "are you uh planning on telling anyone you saw me here today?"
"And admit a Malfoy dirtied his shoe with the filth of a muggle establishment?" Draco sneered.
Harry was stumped. His rival made a good point. Malfoys did not wander around muggle neighborhoods for any reason. I wonder what he's up to, Harry thought.
"Alright," Harry said slowly. "I'll make a deal with you. I won't tell anyone that you 'dirtied yourself with a muggle establishment' as you say, if you don't tell anyone that you ever saw me here."
"You don't want anyone to know that you're here?" Malfoy asked with surprised smirk.
Harry nervously countered, "I don't. But you can't tell them I work here without admitting you were here too."
Malfoy responded with a wicked little I-have-a-plan sneer. Harry could tell he was carefully putting the pieces of a plot together in his head.
"You said you're the manager, right?"
Harry nervously had to agree that he was.
"Great," Malfoy said triumphantly. "I won't let anyone know where you work, but I'll tell you what I want in exchange."
Harry sighed. Malfoy could ask for almost anything and Harry would carry through. He just wasn't ready to give up this pleasant little retreat from the wizard world. Although he didn't know how pleasant life would continue to be with Malfoy blackmailing him.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry growled. He'd decide what to do when he heard Malfoy's offer.
"A job."
"What?" Harry asked incredulously.
"You heard me," Malfoy snapped. "Look, Potter, I'm in this stupid muggle hellhole for the same reason you are- I need to hide from the magical world for awhile. That means I need muggle money. And you're going to give me a way to get it. Because if I'm going done, you sure as hell are coming with me."
Harry was still suspicious. "What are you hiding from?"
"Are you going to give me a job?" Malfoy countered.
Harry felt the balance of power shift back to himself. Malfoy seemed more desperate to remain hidden than he did. So Harry still had some leverage in this situation.
"I'll give you the job if you tell me what you're running from," Harry said. "But otherwise, no. If you're fleeing to muggle London for a job, then this is something big. I deserve to know what you're running from, what you did that I'm letting you hide from."
"I didn't do anything," Malfoy raged. "And you have no right to ask about my life. I don't owe you anything!"
"If you did something bad - if you're some kind of fugitive – and you want me to help you escape justice then you do owe me. I have a right to know what you did that I'm letting you escape justice from!"
Harry realized he was shouting and silently ordered himself to calm down. Even though he was outside Merlin's, if he got any louder his employees inside would be able to hear this fight. Draco seemed to have the same idea about privacy because he lowered his voice as he responded.
"Look, Potter, I really haven't done anything wrong. Just give me the damn job."
"Just tell me, Malfoy," Harry responded calmly. He could see his opponent was weakening.
"Fine," Malfoy snapped, but he didn't volunteer anything further.
Harry waited patiently as the defeated boy in front of him worked up the resolve to speak.
"My father broke out of Azkaban," Malfoy began.
Harry's eyes opened wide with shock. "What? How?"
"I don't know," Malfoy snapped. "It's not important. The point is, he did it. He's out. And he's building up an army to take over where You-Know- Who left off. He wants to take over the world, and he asked me to help him. He said if I refused, he'd come after me with his 'army' and 'destroy' me. But I refused anyway. And now I have to hide because I don't know who the hell he could have ordered to come after me. So I'm stuck here, in stupid muggle London, so I don't accidentally run into my darling father's army of assassins."
"Oh," Harry said stupidly.
"Yeah-'Oh'," Draco mocked snidely. "I'm being hunted by a dark wizard who plans to kill me and then take over the world with his army of faithful minions. Do you have any idea what I'm going through?"
"I can imagine," Harry said dryly.
Malfoy shot him a startled look, the dawn of his slow realization showing plainly on his face.
"I understand, Malfoy. I know how scared you must be."
"I'm not scared!" The blond protested heatedly.
Harry ignored him. "I'll hire you, you just have to never forget to act like a muggle at work."
"I won't forget. I'm not stupid, Potter."
Harry uneasily shot him an appeasing smile. "Right. Sorry. Come on inside and we'll fill out the paperwork."
Harry led the way into a back office where he pulled the job application out for Malfoy. The boy hunched over the paper silently for a minute before looking up uneasily.
"Yes?" asked Harry suspiciously.
"Do I need to write an address?" Malfoy indicated the section asking for his home address and phone number.
"Yeah. Why?"
"I don't really have one. I thought I'd just kinda, you know, move between hotels and stuff. Make it harder for my father to track me."
"Why don't you just buy a house and put unplottable wards on it?" Harry asked reasonably.
Malfoy scowled. "I don't know how to do that," he muttered.
Harry knew how difficult it must have been for his rival to make that confession. In an act of good will, he made his own small confession just to make Malfoy feel a little better.
"I don't actually know how to do it, either," he admitted. "It was actually Dumbledore who cast the spell for me on my apartment. It's really complicated but extremely powerful. It's the same spell that makes Hogwarts unplottable. And I'm sure I'm safe from anyone trying to trace me back home. There's no way anyone could break this spell."
"Well good for you, Potter," Malfoy muttered sarcastically. "I'm just so glad you're all safe and cozy back at home."
Oops. Harry had only made the unhappy blond feel even worse.
"I mean, I can get Dumbledore to cast the spell for you if you get an apartment," he offered.
"No!" Malfoy responded sharply. "I don't want him knowing I'm here. I don't want anyone knowing. That's part of the deal. You tell no one about me."
Grey eyes surveyed Harry maliciously. "You tell no one, okay? Not even the Weasel and the mudblood."
Harry winced at the cold nicknames, but reluctantly agreed. He knew that he could never convince his enemy of seven years to trust any of his friends to keep a vow of secrecy.
"Well, you still need an address," Harry said as he averted his eyes from the Slytherin's suspicious gaze.
"That's fine," Malfoy returned silkily. "It turns out I do have an address after all."
Harry was confused. "You said you were living in a hotel."
"Oh I was. But I very recently discovered a secure little location where I can hide away from anyone out to get me."
"Great," Harry said. "Where are you staying?"
"Your apartment."