Chapter IV

'Bastards!' Draco's eyes twitched as he scanned the letter. 'Those thieving bastards!'
Pansy tried unsuccessfully to read over his shoulder.
'What is it, Draco?' I knew that she had been filtering out the piles of death threats that the owls brought in each morning--I could see that she was afraid she had missed one.
'The Ministry has confiscated my shipment of Hungarian dragon hides! Do you know how many officials I bribed to get those into the country? How dare they! I'll write a complaint! I want a refund!'
I had been trying to doze, exhausted after a day full of promoting, palm-pressing, drinking and cajolery.
'Draco, do you mind? Some of us are hung over.'
'Trousers, Blaise!' spat Draco as he stormed around the table. 'Black trousers are to be made from dragon hides. What's a man without trousers?'
'Naked?' suggested Nott.
'Chilly,' murmured Crabbe, remembering his towel incident. Goyle, who sat beside him, chuckled and continued bedazzling the Dark Mark onto a denim skirt.

'Draco, couldn't you just use leather?'
'Bite your tongue, Pansy! No Malfoy has ever stooped so low as to wear leather.'
'And they've stooped pretty low in the past,' I added for my own benefit.

Draco grabbed the post from the table and stomped upstairs. 'I won't be taking any calls this evening!'
Pansy apologised for him. 'He's been under so much stress since...you know...'

Since the interview with Nigel Thimbleberry, she meant. It had not gone well, and here we were with half a week before the unveiling of the new line.
Thimbleberry had been very professional and I wouldn't say unkind, which seemed odd in a man whose persona is often times synonymous with cattiness. He really seemed to feel for Draco, which made what he said all the more damaging.
After casting an observant eye over some of Draco's more finished designs, and one or two pieces as modeled by enchanted Mannikins, Thimbleberry was finally willing to pass judgment.
'Draco,' he said, 'thank you for showing me all of this. You do have potential as a designer, but these...concepts do not do your talent justice. What fashion needs is something new! Something bold. What you are doing is, well, it's very Yule Ball, very naive. You're cleaning up others' mistakes, yes, and improving, but I see nothing original here. Nothing to really grab me.
'You are a bright lad, Draco. Embrace your opportunity, make these designs your own! I want to see something uniquely Malfoy, not something I've seen a dozen times before.'

Draco was devastated. As soon as Thimbleberry had been thanked and ushered out the door, Malfoy grabbed all of the designs, all the samples, and threw them into the fire. We all watched as the House of Malfoy line went up in smoke.

Since then Draco had drawn and redrawn, stitched, cut and discarded. It seemed nothing he created satisfied him, and with each passing day we all stared, ever more gloomy, at the calendar. Now with only days to go, Draco had taken to sitting by himself on the House of Malfoy rooftop gazing out moodily over Knockturn Alley.

I gave him a few hours to regroup before climbing the stairs and rickety ladder that brought me to the top of the old building.
'Draco.'
He started when I spoke his name. He had been writing something whilst sitting on the ledge overhanging the street. He pinned the sheet of parchment under his inkwell and tucked his quill behind his ear, inking it in the process.
'What do you want, Blaise?'
'You can't hide up here forever. We don't have much time left and we aren't nearly done yet.'
Draco's face contorted in rage.
'Do you think I don't know that! That I don't know what's going to happen to me if I don't succeed here! I am aware of the timetable, Blaise. Thank you.'
'Well, what do you think you're going to accomplish mooning about up here? Why not just put Goyle in charge?'

From the street below we heard shouts and the shattering of glass. We could just make out two dark figures running down towards Diagon Alley. Nott was screaming for help downstairs.
Being closer to the ladder I was the first one down. I froze at the sight that met me, Draco slamming into my back and sending me tumbling across the floor.
'What the hell!'
The shop windows had been blown in. Pansy and Nott cowered under a table as a great ball of fire tore around the room setting cloth and paper alight. Goyle lay near the door unconscious and Crabbe was frantically throwing cups of cold tea at the airborne conflagration.
Draco brought out his wand and tried to take aim but just then the fireball careened down onto the floor, burning a phoenix shaped mark in the wood.
Outside in the night, someone yelled, 'You have been warned!', his voice echoing down the empty street.

'Is everyone all right?'
Pansy said nothing and merely cried. Nott tried to help her up. Crabbe, still holding an empty teacup, checked on Goyle.
Draco strode out into the street.
'You're not fucking frightening anyone here! Got that? We're not afraid of you, cowards!'
He had his wand out. I could see it was shaking.

A strong breeze blew, ruffling his pale hair and making away with the letter he had abandoned on the roof. The wind carried it for a time before depositing it with the rest of the rubbish that was strewn across Knockturn Alley.

Dear Myrtle,

I'm sorry things are going so horribly for you just now, but I'm sure they will get better.
I did visit your grave. You were right, it was very well kept and their were many flowers. I left a few. I hope you like lilies.
I do really wish I could visit you at Hogwarts but I think after everything that happened I would not be allowed back. But maybe I will be able to see you again sooner than you might think.
Your last letter was very comforting and I often reread it, even though we are all so busy preparing for the fashion show.
Oh, and I met Nigel Thimbleberry! He was very excited about my designs and thinks I have a great future here. He's sure we'll be a success!
I miss our conversations and never find myself in a lavatory without thinking of you.

Your friend,

Draco