A/N This is the un-beta-ed version you have here, because I figured you guys have been waiting due time for this, and where is Priscilla? Anyways, exams are OVER so I'll try to update faster than I have been this year; however, I've still got summer school/college apps so it won't be nearly as fast as Indentured Servitude. I hope you guys stick with this story!
Disclaimer: not mine, yada yada
Chapter 13. Draco Malfoy, Private Eye
In the backdrop of early morning sun, the Flint Mansion stood impressively large. The windows all shaded with heavy brocade and the doors old and solid, Draco Malfoy could guess that they were nearly equally wealthy as he, even years later, even after Marcus Flint had gone jobless.
He had not been here for seven years.
With some reservation, Draco pushed the heavy brass knocker and glanced around uneasily. Framed in daylight things seemed much different than he had remember them to be – it was more quiet, more restful, more welcoming. After a few long moments of wait, the door finally opened and a small house elf poked her head out. "Master is busy," She squeaked, and began to shut the door.
Draco lodged his foot in between, preventing the door from closing on him. Much to the house elf's dismay, he pushed it open and forced himself in, glaring all the while. "Master is busy!" She squeaked once more.
"Don't care," Draco said coolly, brushing off his robes from the effort.
"But sir!" The house elf all but pleaded. "Brenda is under strict orders not to let anyone in, Brenda can't!"
"Look here—" Draco began, but it wasn't necessary. There was a loud giggle that came from the study directly left of him, and in two quick strides he was at the doors.
"No!" The house elf shrieked.
Without any reservation, Draco flung the grand white doors open. There were people on the table – two, to be specific – and the one on top, none other than Marcus Flint himself, jumped up, looking none too pleased. He was dressed in sleep robes, which were still cast open, and his dark hair was tousled. The years had not been too harsh on him, and he looked as always – tall, burly, and tan.
"Master!" the house elf shrieked once more. Marcus bustled out of the room, pushing both Draco and the elf out with him, and Draco followed suit with easy calm.
"What is going on?" Marcus demanded, glaring at her. "Did I not tell you that I wish to be left alone?"
"Flint," Draco said, and it was then that Marcus saw who had arrived.
The scowl upon his face broke into a wide smile, and he looked immediately sheepish. "Draco Malfoy," Marcus said. "Well well. It's been what, six or so years since you went to Canada?"
"Just about," Draco said amiably.
"Marcus," A feminine voice drawled from inside the study, and a stunning blonde appeared, a veela. She too was dressed in sleep robes, and she cast a sultry, appreciative glance towards Draco, raking her green eyes up and down his body. "You didn't tell me that we had company, Marcus."
Draco raised an eyebrow at his old schoolmate, for in all he had remembered and heard about Vanessa Flint, this was decidedly not her.
"Um, listen, Malfoy, this isn't exactly the best time," Marcus said.
"Oh no," said the blonde, her voice two octaves lower as she pressed herself closer to Draco. "I think this time is perfectly fine." She grinned seductively and raised a red nail to trail down the little bit of skin which peered through Draco's shirt.
Draco's eyebrow only grew higher, and he smirked at Marcus. Catching her hand in his, he firmly drew it away from his chest. "I don't think we've been introduced."
She pouted. "Names are so overrated—"
"Melissa," Marcus said sharply then. The expression reflected in his quickly darkening blue eyes said that clearly he was not pleased about the situation.
"Oh Marcus," she continued to pout. "You never let me have any fun."
"Fun?" Marcus growled. "You call fun throwing yourself all over my old schoolmate like some cheap whore? Look at yourself."
Her emerald eyes grew wide in indignation. "You are such a hypocrite," she shouted at him. "You think I'm throwing myself over someone else? Do I have to remind you, Marcus, that you are married?" Now her voice cracked in histrionic sadness, and she threw herself into Draco. "It's so hard for me to watch you with her all the time," she sobbed from his chest. "At all the parties and balls, you always dance with her. I hate being the other woman, I hate it!"
"Bad time?" Draco asked dryly as Melissa continued to sob into his robes, and Marcus glared at him.
"This," Marcus groused, "was why I told my house elves to lock the doors."
"You always do this," Melissa sobbed dramatically.
"Oh shut it," Marcus hissed. "Do you want everyone to hear?"
"You think everyone doesn't know?" Another female voice drawled from the top of the stairs, and all three turned to see Vanessa Flint gazing down at them with a flicker of disgust in her dark eyes. She looked as if she had just risen from sleep, clothed in a floor-sweeping robe of dark blue silk, but her long brown hair was tied into a loose chignon at the bottom of her neck, a few tendrils escaping its hold to frame an impassive face. She was still every bit as beautiful as Blaise had described, Draco thought, and yet she couldn't begin to compare to Ginny.
Marcus swore under his breath, and only now did Melissa remove herself from Draco's chest to grasp his hand protectively and glare at Vanessa.
She descended down the stairs with enviable cool. "Draco," she chose to address the less offending guest first. "It's been so long," she said warmly, clasping his hand when she reached him and sending him a dazzling white smile. "How have you been?"
"Good," was his automatic response. "Pansy speaks highly of you, Lady Flint."
Vanessa laughed lightly. "I would hope so. Do send her my regards." Now she turned slightly, and focused her withering gaze on Melissa. "I don't think I know you," she said coldly.
Melissa glanced at Marcus for guidance, who was staring at his wife in shock. "I didn't know you were home, Vanessa. You're not supposed to be back until tomorrow."
She examined her nails as if she couldn't care less, but Draco saw the flicker of pain in her eyes. "I came back last night, in fact," she informed him in that same chilly voice. "I would've told you, except you were busy." She paused. "But you would know that, of course. And so would she."
"Vanessa—" Marcus started pleadingly.
"Why don't you introduce me to your mistress?" Vanessa said, and gave Melissa such a stare that the blonde nearly shrank.
"Um—" Marcus glanced warily between the women.
Melissa straightened, held out a manicured hand. "Melissa. Melissa Wellington."
"Melissa," Vanessa repeated thoughtfully, turning to look at her husband. "Okay then, Melissa. I'm going to give you exactly thirty seconds to get your skanky, slutty, money-loving arse out of my mansion, off my property, and away from my husband before I hex you into oblivion. Got it?"
"Why, you—" Melissa began, eyes flashing.
"Thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight."
"You aren't serious!" She cried.
"Twenty-seven. Twenty-six. Twenty-five," Vanessa continued, her eyes never leaving her husband's face. Calmly, she removed her wand from the robe, and rubbed its tip against the silk as if polishing it for better aim. "Twenty-four. Twenty-three."
With the little integrity she had left, Melissa fled, slamming the door behind her, and leaving both men in shock.
"Well that takes care of that," Vanessa said coolly after a moment of silence. She turned towards Draco, smiling. "And how may I help you, Mr. Malfoy?"
He blinked. "I was actually looking for some of your records. Of a ball you threw, seven years ago."
"The masquerade ball," she supplied.
"Right," Draco nodded. "If you still have the invite lists, and records of who showed up and—"
"Of course," Vanessa said. "They're all located in the back library. Would you like me to direct you to it?"
"If you would be so kind."
"Vanessa—" Marcus seemed to have recovered from his shock now. "Dear, I think—"
"Marcus," she cut him off scathingly. "We've a guest right now. We'll talk later."
His mouth opened and closed helplessly. "I'm sorry," he managed.
Her lower lip curled in disgust, and Vanessa shook her head. "You always are, Marcus." Beckoning towards Draco, she strode away from the main hall into the far stretches of the mansion.
"Sorry, Flint," Draco said apologetically before following her.
The Flint Record Library was a small, round room that reached three or four stories up, the walls lined with bookshelves. There was a floating platform along the side on which one could stand to reach the higher books, Vanessa explained. She paused thoughtfully to scan her eyes over the books, and then jumped on and soared towards the second level. "I think this might be it," she called, and tossed it down to Draco.
He opened the dusty binding slowly. "1857," He told her with a grin. "I think maybe not."
She laughed, and continued her search. Draco set the book down beside him and watched her easy grace with curiosity. She didn't seem a woman who had just caught her husband carousing with another witch, and yet there was something about the way she moved, the way she spoke, that suggested she was not as indifferent as she would've liked to seem.
"Vanessa," Draco said after a moment's silence. "Doesn't it bother you?"
There was a pause. Then, she plucked a red book off the shelf and soared back down to the ground. "What?" Vanessa asked. "Marcus and Melissa?"
Draco nodded.
"Of course," she shrugged. "All his mistresses bother me, Draco."
"All of his…Jesus, Vanessa, why are you still with him?" Draco wanted to know. "Don't you ever think about leaving him? Don't you ever think about…about Blaise?"
Vanessa flinched at the name of her former love. "Is that why you're here, Draco?" She demanded, eyes flashing. "On behalf of Blaise? Because if so, you should just leave, right now."
"No," Draco said quickly. "I'm really here for the records. Blaise seems to have gone MIA on me, to be honest. I just don't see why you put up with this shit." He paused, thinking of Harry in Ginny's room, and added a little bitterly, "I don't see why anyone would put up with this shit."
She sat down slowly. "You speak from personal experience."
"I understand that sometimes the person you fall in love with isn't who they seemed to be," Draco went on, ignoring her entirely. "But wouldn't you cut and run when you saw their true colors? Why stay? Why endure the pain?"
Flipping through the yellowed parchment of the book, Vanessa seemed to be deep in thought. "You know," she finally said. "Whether you believe it or not – whether Blaise believes it or not – I love Marcus. And I knew about his womanizing before we married."
He took a seat beside her. "Then why did you marry him?"
She inhaled deeply. "Sometimes, in love, you have to make concessions. Compromise."
"But compromising your integrity?" Draco said.
Vanessa turned her steady gaze upon him. "Nobody can take my integrity away from me. Of course it hurts me that he has to seek other women. Of course people talk. 'Whatever is wrong with Vanessa that she isn't enough for Marcus?' I found myself asking that very question whispered by our friends when I first found out. I wanted to leave him, you know. So much that it hurt."
"Why didn't you?" Draco was still puzzled.
"I realized that I didn't want to," Vanessa replied. "I realized that Marcus has this complex of keeping sex and love separate. And I realized, in the most demented way…that he does love me. You wouldn't understand. Nobody does unless they've been in this position." Now she held out the book towards him with a small smile. "Your masquerade ball, Draco."
He gently removed the book from her hands, looked at her for a long, thoughtful, nearly disbelieving moment, and then directed his attention to the records.
"You know," Vanessa said. "Just a word of advice, Draco. Love clouds the way you see things. I don't know who this woman is, but she obviously has some effect on you. You may be…wrong about things."
Draco shook his head. "I'm not wrong about her, Vanessa."
She fell quiet. "If you say so." Gathering her robe around her, Vanessa stood up and made her way towards the door. "I trust you'll see yourself out?"
Draco nodded. "Vanessa…" he began hesitantly. She arched an eyebrow, and he faltered. "Thank you. And…if you're sure about Marcus…"
Again, she flashed that stunning smile. "I am. Nice seeing you, Draco," she said softly. "Tell Blaise I say hi." And then she disappeared in a whirl of blue.
The door clicked shut and Draco bent over the massive book, trailing his finger down the words. "Guests invited…" he muttered. "No…ah, guests in attendance. Here we go."
From his pocket he removed a small, stone bowl. A simple incantation caused it to swell in size, until it rested easily on his lap. "Aquarius Lumos Retrevos," he muttered, and then twas water inside – murky, dark water that reflected his face until it started swirling.
"Alaina Abbott," Draco said, reading off the first name from the list, and a woman appeared in the water. She was at the door, handing her invite to the butler and receiving a mask. Good, he thought, it worked. Retrieving the list, he gave a sigh. There was a long way to go…and he had all the time in the world.
253 names later, Draco was not any closer to finding Ginny. His first thought was that she had lied – but then, she had no reason to. Nor had she any other means of attaining his cufflink. Sighing, he plodded on.
"Cassandra Opal." No.
"Christina Overton." No.
"Helena Overton." No.
"Jane Padderson." No no no!
"Pansy Park—"
He stopped when he saw the next name. Pansy had been there? Draco almost asked aloud, racking his memory for any recollection of seeing her there. No…she hadn't be, she couldn't have been, he realized. That was the night Pansy had flooed to France for her cousin's wedding…Babs Parkinson, that atrociously ditzy blonde cousin of hers.
He remembered this all very well. She had a fit the night before, trying to pack just about everything into that suitcase of hers. She'd insisted there was a charm for it all to fit, and he'd insisted otherwise. Annoyed at the whiny sound of her voice, he'd cast an incantation to make all her clothes swell and cursed her to a miserable time in France. It was then that Pansy had started to cry – and that was not a pretty sight – and Draco had stormed out to drink his annoyance away.
He remembered coming back in the late afternoon. The house elves were cleaning up in the parlor – apparently Pansy had a guest over that day – and he'd stormed to her room, demanding to know why she hadn't left, why she was entertaining guests instead. Vaguely, he recalled her making some snarky comment about their heir, or something of the sort. All he really remembered from that scene was that he was half drunk, and she had been more righteously pompous than ever. When she left, he'd watched her, jumping in elation as the floo network coughed up ash behind her.
No, Draco rationalized, she'd definitely been in France that evening.
Then why was her name on the list of guests in attendance?
"I don't understand," he muttered. "Why would she be there? Why would it say her name here? Why—why Pansy Parkinson?"
The water began to swirl.
His eyes were drawn to the image formed. The soft layers of beautiful dress which framed a soft swell of breast, the dangling necklace which danced around creamy skin, the shining red hair – it was all too easily remembered. It couldn't be…
And then her face appeared, brown eyes wide and shy, and Draco jumped up. The basin tumbled to the ground, water splashing and edges cracking. The damage caused it to suddenly shrink, until it was once more its small, dry size. Draco fell to his seat, burying his head in his hands, and groaned in frustration. It was all becoming clear to him…and he didn't like any of it.
Seven years ago, he'd slept with Ginny Weasley at Marcus Flint's masquerade ball while she pretended to be Pansy Parkinson.
Why why why?
There was only one person who could help him find out, Draco realized.
Cleaning up the mess he'd made, Draco pocketed his wand and resolved to find Ginny.
"So how are you feeling?"
Ginny looked up from her tea to see Harry staring at her sympathetically, wind ruffling his dark hair. They were seated at the Café du Ciel, warm in the soft afternoon light and surrounded by cheerful. "Fine," she said as cheerily as she could, but somehow wished that the sun wasn't so bright, that the world wasn't so happy, that Draco wasn't terribly upset with her.
"You don't look fine," Harry said bluntly. "You look like you haven't slept in years and you haven't eaten in—"
She held up a hand, a smile on her face despite herself. "I know, I know."
He seemed fine with her reply. "You know that I still don't approve of Malfoy, right?" Harry said suddenly.
Ginny laughed, out loud this time. "Harry, neither do I."
He nodded seriously, and then proceeded to confide in a whisper, "I think I need to go to the loo."
"Go," she mouthed, mocking him, and he tossed his napkin at her.
Harry rose from the table, hesitating one more time. "Are you sure you're okay?" He asked again.
"Harry, if you don't stop, I will seriously hit you," Ginny said affectionately.
"Okay," Harry nodded seriously. He seemed to see something in the distance, because his green eyes lit up. "Emmett!" He called loudly, and Ginny turned to see handsome man strolling towards them, blue eyes mildly confused until they landed upon Harry. He was tall and dressed in casual clothes, a healthy glow radiating which attested to his hours in the sun.
Tan, she thought, unlike Malfoy.
"Ginny, this is Emmett Lark," Harry introduced when he had reached their side. "Emmett, this is Ginny."
Emmett frowned. "I thought you were seeing a blonde, Potter."
Harry shrugged sheepishly. "I am. Gin and I are just friends. Franny is…" He had a moony look in his eyees "…great. How's Robin?"
At the mention of his wife, Emmett's face broke out into a wide smile. "She's expecting," he said with genuine happiness that brought a pang of nostalgia to Ginny's heart.
"Your wife's name is Robin?" Ginny asked, to change the subject off their blossoming romance. She couldn't explain it, nor put her finger on it, but the thought of love and marriage was just something she didn't want to ponder over. "So her name is Robin Lark, then?" she continued, aware of how inane she must sound. "Robin as in a bird, and lark as in a bird, so…bird squared?"
There was a look of absolute mortification on Harry's face. "Um, sorry Emmett, Gin's not feeling well today."
Emmett shot her a strange look. "I'll say."
"Look," Harry cleared his throat. "I was just on my way to the loo."
"Me too," Emmett said quickly, moving away from Ginny.
With a sigh, Ginny sat down as the two men retreated. "Great," she muttered. "I'm a man repeller."
Not that she wanted anyone but Draco anyways.
Draco arrived at the café just as Harry departed. It had taken him an eternity to track Ginny, an eternity equalling thirty minutes and four different location spells. In the end, he had realized that he did have something of hers in possession – the beautiful sapphire necklace that he could only assume belonged to her, as it seemed she was the woman he'd slept with, and the powerful emotive charm attached to it had easily given him coordinates to where she was.
He paused behind a leafy plant which shielded him from her view. She was seated morosely, twirling her fingers around the straw of her drink without aim or purpose. The light breeze tickled her silky strands, which she'd let down today, and his breath involuntarily hitched as those delicate fingers brushed them away from her face.
God she was beautiful, he thought.
There was an expresson of sadness on her face, and he wondered if she knew that. She didn't seem to be staring at anything in particular, her normally lively eyes lost and dark. He had an overwhelming urge to speak with her, to touch her, to do anything.
It was now or never.
"I should get back," he heard a familiar male voice say, and Draco jerked to see Harry Potter just barely in front of him, in deep conversation with another wizard. He shrunk further behind the vegetation, hoping that scarhead couldn't spot him.
"Yeah," the other man replied. "Bring your woman over someday, and we can you know, have dinner or something."
His woman? Draco felt his blood boil. How could Ginny let this creep refer to her that way?
"Sounds nice," Harry agreed, green eyes twinkling. "But you know, she's more into staying in these nights, if you know what I mean."
Draco clenched his fists and tried hard not to pound them into the cinderblock.
The man chuckled. "Oh, Potter. I knew I remember you were with her. See, my mind's not playing tricks on me."
"It's a complicated situation," Harry said with a sorry look on his face. "It's getting less complicated, but you know, I'm still ironing out the kinks. I thought for a moment that…I'd lost her…"
The image of the three of them in Ginny's worn flat resurfaced in Draco's mind.
"Keep on to her," The man advised. "She's a looker, that one."
"And a minx in bed," Harry added, to which they both erupted into laughter. "I just can't get enough of her."
Draco was pretty sure the blood had all gone to his head, because everything was red.
"Well, I'll let you get back," the man said cheerfully, and with a few more casual "see you later"s they parted ways.
Draco straightened and watched as the dark-haired man took a seat with Ginny, adjusting his glasses and grinning beatifically. No way in hell am I going to approach those two, he thought angrily, blood pressure rising sharply when she smiled at him.
He turned on his heel and strolled out of the restaurant. No, he was going to have to find the answers to his questions by some other means.
Four hours and three stricken travel agents later, Draco had menaced the address of Pansy's suite in Aruba out of the traveling company she'd booked with. No doubt she had every intention of wasting his money while they were married, because the hotel was perhaps the most lavish thing he'd ever seen in his entire life- aside from his own house, of course.
"Parkinson," he practically growled to the clerk.
A muggle resort! Why would she pick a muggle resort?
"Are you Parkinson?," the clerk asked, without batting an eyelash or even looking at him. Her eyes remained focused on her nails, and the file she was currently raking over them.
"Husband," he spat out. The word tasted acid.
"Then you should have the key," she said in that same prissy voice.
"I don't, obviously," Draco snarled.
"Too bad."
"Do you know who I am?"
"Enlighten me."
A deep, tension-filled pause.
Draco took a deep breath. He was obviously not going to get her attention by threatening her, as she'd proved with her uncaring attitude. Filthy muggles. Fine, he was going to have to resort to…other tactics.
Clearing his throat, Draco leaned forward and lowered his voice to a husky drawl. "Are you sure you can't help me?" He asked.
She looked up this time, blue eyes growing wide as she took in his aristocratic face, his lean arms and assuming presence. The nail file dropped to the ground.
I do have that effect on women, don't I? Oh for fucks sake, I'm flirting with a muggle.
"Um…er…sorry about that, sir," she stammered.
Oh close your mouth and get in line.
"Key?" Draco said sweetly.
Wordlessly, she handed it over to him. "I'm really sorry, sir, I…please excuse me for…"
"Whatever," he muttered, snatching it out of her hand and storming towards the stairs. His bout of impatience was only further aggrandized as a couple came descending down the narrow stairwell, hand in hand and sickening smiles on their face.
"This place is so beautiful, James," the woman gushed, a petite Asian with long black hair.
The man, who personally reminded Draco too much of Harry for his taste, returned her loving smile. "You're beautiful, Vicki," he said softly, and Draco wanted to punch the moony smile off his tan face.
There was a gnawing feeling at the bottom of his stomach as they passed, and for some reason he saw Ginny again, the small, uncertain smile she often had when they were together, the warmth of her eyes, the creaminess of her skin. He shook his head, as if the phyiscal act would banish her from his mind, and continued his way to Pansy's suite 213 with much unhappiness.
Stupid happy married people.
He could hear voices from inside her room, but didn't bother stopping to listen. In all honesty, Draco could care less what Pansy did in her free time, or who. He was here on business, and business he would accomplish.
Sliding the key into the door, he twisted the knob and kicked it open.
There were two people in the room, as he'd expected, but his jaw dropped as he took in their identities.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
End of Chapter 13
A/N
Now where would a good story be without a cliffhanger?
A few answers to the questions posed:
-A Four Leaf Clover- I will be writing another HP non one-shot after this. I have, in fact, already started. The next one is entitled Even Heroes Fall, and it's a little different from my past two in that its more darkfic than fluff, but is still very much romance and definitely D/G (I'm hopeless, I know). The summary for that is here:
In a world of darkness, Ginny Weasley struggles to find her place, to right the wrongs fate has beset upon her, and to avenge those who have fallen with a diligent determination. In a time of chaos, Draco Malfoy stands more omnipotent than ever: merciless, ruthless, and utterly incapable of compassion. Time has broken down what once was and no longer is pure, yet their tale still stands true —a tale of corruption and redemption, of destined love and eternal hate, of trust and betrayal, and above all, of Draco and Ginny.
This is also going to be the first fic I'll post simultaneously on schnoogle and FFNet. I want to have at least 3 chapters written before I post it, so I'd say…look for it around July. Don't worry, I'm posting Masquerade as quickly as I write them, its just that for new fics I like to be a bit ahead when I start posting, especially in the summer when I have more time to write, as I lack time when the school year starts up.
- I just wanted to say thank you so much everyone! I'm overwhelmed (in a good way) but the number of reviews, as I'd never imagined I could ever get so many – they seriously make my day!! I wish I could thank everyone one of you – and I'm going to try right now, but forgive me if I left you out. I really do appreciate every review I get, and yes, I do read every one of them.
Eleeopy – lol I'm honored you like my work. =D Matriaya – we still have to collaborate, remember! Ayumi-dono I can't believe you're still reviewing after all this time! I'd get sick of me lol. You were like…one of my very first reviewers from IS. Sigh. Artichoke – Even though you reviewed my other story, I liked your review. So felt like adressing that here. Silverbuttefly – it's not supposed to be sad! Malkavian Kirie Croiff – see now where would the world be without cliffies?
And….I'd really like to address all of you personally but I think you'd all I just post this chapter so I promise promise promise I'll do it later…please leave a review!