Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy
by Mad Maudlin

8. in which we remove to the alligator farm.

In the end, it was almost ridiculously simple: after a thorough search of the premises that exhausted any other possible means of escape, Weasley blew a hole in the wall. It's silly that we didn't think of it earlier. The drop to the weed-eaten pavement was several feet, but not nearly enough to justify any levitation, thank God. The area was still full of smoke, but after performing a complicated little spell with his wand,Weasley reported that O'Guin had gone.

"Idiot," I said. "Why doesn't he stick around to ensure we were dead?"

"Because the Confederation has probably got the American Enforcers looking for me," he said. "Between the two of them, it's a miracle we made it this far already...how are going to get to Alabama anyway?"

That had occurred to me. "Apparation, I suppose. It's the only way."

"What, your friends don't have a Floo connection?"

"They're a bit...shall we say, paranoid?" I noticed his expression. "You would be, too, if you'd been run out of your homeland in the dark of night."

"You weren't run out—" Weasley stopped himself before he said anything stupid. "So they're old mates of yours, yes?"

"Rather." I squinted at the sun; it was still quite early. "I don't suppose we dare warn them we're coming?"

"Too risky." Weasley cocked his head to one side, a bit like a confused dog. "Do you hear something?"

I listened. Some sort of wailing siren was approaching. "Maybe a Muggle spotted the fire?"

"Maybe," He pulled out his wand. "So where in Alabama are we Apparating to? Mobile?"

"...nearly."

Look, if I had told him the whole truth he would never have agreed to it, and after the warehouse fire I didn't feel like arguing. I should have recalled how bloody stubborn he can be, though. "What do you mean, nearly? Do they live in a village or something?"

I sighed. "No, they live in the country, some distance from Mobile. If you know how to tandem Apparate, I can take us almost straight there."

"Almost?"

He was doing the staring thing again. I cleared my throat. "I don't...actually know precisely where it is. But I can get fairly close."

Weasley was silent for a long time, and I waited for the shouting to begin. To my surprise, he simply sighed and held out his wand. "I don't suppose we've got any other options, do we?"

I touched the tip of my wand to his and Apparated

We appeared on the weedy shoulder of a state highway and the first thing that hit me was the humidity: it was like being dunked in a hot bath. The thick air muffled my breath and clung to my skin like a thin layer of slime. I squinted against the sun and spotted the rutted gravel lane that lead off the highway, about thirty feet away from where we were standing. So I'd been a little off; we were still where I'd wanted to be.

"Where are we, Malfoy?" Weasley asked, looking around the barren road apprehensively.

"This way." I lead him to the lane, which wound quickly out of sight. "It's down this way a bit."

"How far," Weasley asked, "is 'a bit'?"

"I...don't exactly know." He looked at me like I was out of my mind. "I've never actually been here before; I just financed the blasted thing."

"You don't know where we're going."

"I know exactly where we're going." This didn't seem to be convincing him. "Look, Weasley, I've followed you all over God's green acre for the past six days, the least you can do is have a little faith in me?"

Weasley sighed, and turned down the gravel path. "Fine. Just...fine. Whatever."

"I knew you'd come around."

"Just start walking."

I know I promised no more extended descriptions, but this was miserable. The humidity was oppressive, choking in our lungs and soaking through our clothes. Disgusting yellow flies the size of peanuts buzzed about our heads and left tiny bleeding welts where they bit. Even when we first set out, the sun was pounding down malevolently, and as the morning shifted over to afternoon I could feel the back of my neck slowly burning away. The gravel gave way to bare dirt that had been pounded into dust, and the dust flew up and stuck on our sweaty clothes and made a foul film in my mouth. Even when we crossed unto shade, there was no relief; the temperature didn't drop, and while the trees blocked the sunlight, they also cut off any hope of a breeze. Whatever sadist came up with the idea of Alabama should be destroyed.

Weasley was quiet most of the way and walking slowly; I confess I was somewhat comforted to notice that his sunburn was even worse than mine. He only spoke once, excluding the increasingly vile obscenities he directed at the flies. "Malfoy?"

"Hmmm?"

"You saved my life."

I glanced at him; he was staring sort of fixedly ahead, shining all over with sweat, expression neutral. I wasn't sure what he expected me to do, so I said, "Are you going to hold it against me?"

He glared at me. "Never mind."

We walked for the better part of the day, progressively slower: the wound on the back of my leg began to ache, then throb, so that I was half limping in the end. As midday came and went, though, the winding lane took a sudden dip, and the ground began to get wetter. Soon there were puddles of standing water on both sides of the path, and then in the path, and I would've cursed the thick-headed lumps who couldn't even maintain their own property if I hadn't been overjoyed by the prospect of reaching our destination. I managed to limp faster, until I came to the sturdy iron chain that blocked off the path just before it plunged straight into a stinking fen. I could almost see the house from here.

Weasley came panting up behind me. "What the hell is this?"

"Where we stop." I drew my wand and let off a loud blast of sparks, hoping that I remembered the signal correctly; in four years, I'd never got around to actually using it. The noise sent a cloud of birds fleeing the trees and echoed oddly over the standing water.

Weasley looked around, then pulled a tangle of kudzu off a faded wooden sign I hadn't noticed before. It had been hand-painted, and badly, but the words were still somewhat discernable. "'The Lucky Lizard Alligator Farm,'" Weasley read incredulously, "'ested 2001.' Ested?"

"Probably 'established.'" I looked over the sign myself. There was also a small cartoon that somewhat resembled an elongated green flobberworm underneath the words; I supposed that was their mascot.

Weasley wrestled off another long limb of kudzu and read further. "'Proprietors...' I don't believe this."

"Believe it."

He sat down very abruptly on a mossy stump. "Crabbe and Goyle own an alligator farm?"

I didn't get a chance to explain; a loud whoop echoed across the water, and a moment later Goyle came into sight aboard a self-propelling rowboat. The little craft stopped some distance from the water line, and he leapt out, sloshed through waist-deep water with a grin that made my face ache in sympathy. "Draco!" he called gleefully. "You shoulda wrote!"

"I, er, didn't have time," I said. "It's a bit—"

I didn't get to finish, because as soon as Goyle cleared the iron chain he swept me up in a bear hug that not only seemed to crush several ribs, but buried my face in his massive pectoral muscles. The added pressure on my broken face was completely unnecessary, and he didn't smell very good, either. "It's been ages," Goyle said gleefully, "you shoulda come by sooner!"

"Yes—well—I've been busy," I muttered.

He finally released me, and seemed to just hen notice my eye. "Draco, what happened?"

"Long story," I said. "Listen, we need your help—you and Crabbe—I can explain everything inside."

"We?" Goyle looked around, and spotted Weasley, who was sitting with his head in his hands. Goyle stared for a second, then turned around and whispered to me, "That's a Weasley!"

"Yes," I said, "that is Weasley." Weasley waved. "Look, I promise I'll explain everything inside, only we've just come from Newark and there are a few different people trying to kill me..."

Goyle thought furiously for a few moments, and I held my breath. If he turned us away now, we were several different kinds of fucked as there was no one else in America I trusted to take us in. For an irrational moment I wished desperately I'd found time to visit before now.

Then his brow relaxed, and he shrugged. "Yeah, sure, better talk it out inside." He glanced at Weasley with a scowl. "Him too?"

"Yes, him too." Weasley didn't move immediately. "You too?"

"Yeah, me too," he said, and stood up. His legs almost immediately buckled, and I leapt forward just in time for him to grab me round the waist and avoid falling over entirely. "Oh, hello..."

Swearing, I peeled Weasley's sweat-soaked t-shirt off his back; underneath, the bandages were just as damp and heavily spotted with blood. "Goyle," I said desperately, "he's hurt rather bad, do you have any healing potions handy?"

He blinked dully at me. "This is an alligator farm, Draco." When I stared at him, he extended his right hand: a variety of ugly-looked scars wove their way to his elbows, and the last joint of his smallest finger was missing.

"Oh," I said, and looked down at Weasley, whose face was screwed up in discomfort. "Can you get into the boat?"

"Yeah," he said, "yeah, just gimme a second."

Goyle ended up have to half-carry Weasley onto the boat, while I got the priveledge of slogging my own way over. At least the water was cold, though even that virtue fell into question when Goyle advised us to check ourselves for leeches. The rowboat wended its way between half-submerged trees and heaps of muddy moss, and I thought I saw some of the Lucky Lizards themselves moving through the water. A sprawling mess of a house, built on high stilts, soon came into view, and I spotted the tiny figures of Crabbe and Millicent Bulstrode waiting at the boat tie-up. I'd nearly forgotten that Millicent had shacked up with the two of them, and mentally kicked myself again for not staying in better touch.

I endured another eye-popping hug from Crabbe at the dock, and Millicent gave me a solemn handshake before grunting, "Let's have a look at that eye, then."

"Er—" I glanced back at Weasley; he was having some trouble getting out of the boat. "I think I can wait a bit, actually."

"I want to know what Weasley's doing here," Goyle said, as he tossed my would-be protector onto the dock like a sack of potatoes.

Millicent whacked him across the knuckles with her wand while I tried to hoist Weasley to his feet. "Manners, Greg! They're guests!"

"Draco said something about killing."

Crabbe perked up. "Killing what?"

"Us," I growled. I tugged on Weasley's arm again. "Come on, we're nearly inside."

He wrapped his arm around my neck but didn't make any particular effort to stand. "Think I'm seasick," he mumbled.

"No, you stupid bastard, you've got heat stroke and you're bleeding to death."

Millicent stared at Weasley for a few minutes and then, in a thoroughly alarming gesture, grabbed him by the collar and helped me haul him to his feet. "Inside with both of you," she announced. "Everything we need is in the kitchen."

I hobbled into the house and followed Millicent to the vast kitchen—well, it had to be, considering the size of the occupants. Weasley and I both collapsed at the table while she collected several bottles of potions and a pitcher of gloriously cold water for us. I got a tea-towel soaked in something yellow and steaming to put over my eye, and Weasley got Millicent's enthusiastic help removing his shirt. He flipped a chair backwards and straddled it while she stripped off the dirty bandages; I concentrated on drinking as much water as fast as I could without causing a stomach cramp

Crabbe and Goyle entered after a few minutes, looking singularly grumpy. They sat at the end of the table furthest from Weasley and stared while Millicent put a plastic bendy straw in his glass of water. "Er," I said, "how are the alligators?"

"Good," Crabbe said. "Why's Weasley here?"

So there was no getting around it, then. I sighed. "It's really quite a long story, and I don't know all of it, and I just found out about most of the things I don't know this morning..."

"The spice jars might help," Weasley said.

Everyone looked at him, and then at me.

I cleared my throat again. "Er. A visual aid."

Millicent looked deeply suspicious of this, but pointed to the appropriate cabinet before she back to rub something thick and odd-smelling into Weasley's wounds. I quickly found the appropriate bottles and spread them out on the table where everyone could see.

"Right," I said. "So since you haven't got any cream of tartar, this is me." I put a jar of mustard powder in the middle of the table. "And this is a man named Greenplate, and this is Arnold Dies, who is one of the people trying to kill me."

"A bottle of oregano is trying to kill you?" Crabbe asked.

"It's a symbol," I said quickly. "Pretend it's a psychotic poacher." He and Goyle traded concerned looks, but didn't interrupt again, so I carried on with the story. "So, Greenplate was helping Dies smuggle his product out of the country, but I found out, so Dies wants to kill me. Except a fellow named O'Guin Obliviated me, so I don't really know what happened with Greenplate. And O'Guin is working for someone else—" I placed a jar of basil next to the lemon pepper—"who also wants to kill me, but I don't know who he is or why he's after me. Anyway, O'Guin tried to kill us this morning, which is why I'm here."

"What about Weasley?" Goyle asked.

Weasley sipped his water. "I'm the paprika."

"Yes..." I picked up the paprika and tried to work out how I could explain this, but in the end, the only thing that made the slightest bit of sense was the blunt truth. I took a deep breath. "Weasley was, er, sent to protect me from Dies by...bytheInternationalConfederationofWizards."

Goyle's eyes went narrow, which only made him look myopic, but which I knew of old to be a cue that he was very close to deciding to assault someone. "What's the Confederation want with you?"

I couldn't bring myself to say it, so I fiddled with the cap of the mustard powder instead. It was Weasley who finally said, softly, "Malfoy was assisting the Confederation in a criminal investigation."

"What?"

They were glaring at me, and I knew I'd committed the unforgivable sin—fraternizing with the enemy. I'd collaborated with the government (never mind that it wasn't the Confederation hunting us), I'd brought a Gryffindor into their midst (never mind that we were long out of school)—they were going to break every bone in my body out of sheer spite. Even Millicent was looking sour, and by the look on Weasley's face she had suddenly got rather rough in her minstrations.

"Why," Crabbe growled, "did you go cozying up to the Confederation?"

"I don't know," I said quickly, "I've been Obliviated I don't remember any of this."

All three of us looked at Weasley, who tried to throw his hands up and earned a swat from Millicent. "I only know what I heard in the briefing from O'Guin, and right now I'm not sure I trust half of it," he said. "He set us up to fail in Kansas City, and he must've brought me in thinking I'd be at a disadvantage, not being an American..."

"And also because we hate each other," I added.

"Right."Weasley took another sip of water. "O'Guin's boss...let's call him...er..."

"Basil?" I suggested.

"Yeah, Basil." Weasley reached out for the bottles and earned another swat from Millicent. "So Basil wants you dead, and O'Guin's been trying to set us up for Dies to accomplish it."

"Why, though?" I examined the lemon pepper bottle. "We were apparently alone together often enough for him to do it himself..."

"Because O'Guin needs to maintain his own cover," Weasley said. "If you turn up dead after a meeting with him, he's putting himself at risk...Obliviating you, he might as well have painted a target on your forehead."

This made sense; I still didn't like it. "Which still leaves us with the question, who is Basil?"

We all sat around staring at the spice jars, though I think only Weasley and I saw them with any significance. Eventually Goyle took his hand off his wand hilt and asked, "So what do you need us for?"

"Do you think you can pull off another South Africa?"

Crabbe shrugged. "Depends on where to."

I glanced at Weasley, expecting him to jump in, but he met my eyes and said, "We're still working on that."

Millicent grabbed Weasley by the arm and tried to pull him up. "I need to do your other side," she said. "And Draco needs a bath."

I climbed as best I could to my feet, grateful for the change of subject. "Millicent, those are the most beautiful words that I have heard all day."