Author's Note: First of all, I would like to thank Pedro the Lion for inspiration for the next flashback. I greatly appreciate feedback from everybody. This is the chapter where we find out who the ring's from! If you haven't already figured it out of course. Those of you who have read the original might doubt my choice but it will make sense as the story moves along. Keep an open mind is what I am trying to say.
Chapter Four: I Know You Are But What Am I?
I was never the sappy sort and that said, I was rather enjoying this cliche walk on the beach. The sun was setting into the sea and I was hoping the seagulls would go away.
An anniversary. I never thought of myself as the type to ever have one. But here I am, holding hands like some newlywed sap. I was trying to remember where friendship turned to love and love turned into a ring. Not long ago I thought I had love all figured out. It seemed now that love had pulled the wool over my eyes again. I suppose itwas the 'together' part of every activity land or sea that brought us too this beach.
"Hey Blaise?"
"Yes?"
"You know, I could never divorce you without an extremely good reason."
He smiled and looked at me, eyes full of understanding. "We may never have too but . . . it's good to have options."
"What do you mean?"
Seriousness disappeared from his face and he shoved me playfully into the surf. "I mean don't stop being Xan Marlow."
I woke up to cold water being sprayed on my face. I bolted upright and screamed a colorful slavic profanity. Frantically wiping the water out of my eyes, I found a bemused Draco Malfoy gripping a showerhead. The next thing that came out of my mouth was another Romanian profanity.
His expression remained intact. "You are never going to convince anyone you're English if you keep talking in third-world gibberish."
"I'm cultured," I snapped, pulling myself up to my feet. "Bloody hell, did you even think that I might need to go back outside in these robes?"
"Burn them."
"Has anyone ever told you what an insufferable prick you are?"
He snorted. "You should be thanking me. I should have left you to sleep outside after the way your grand entrance last night caused my lasted shagg to run off. Here," he tossed me some clothes. "Get cleaned up an head back to your place. You aren't due for another hour or so."
"Um, Draco," I felt so pathetic. There I was, sopping wet, probably hideous from last night and my voice was replaced with a weak mew.
"Yes?" he replied, reluctantly turning in the doorway.
"I don't have anywhere to go."
He blinked. "What are you talking about, Marlow? You appeared yesterday and had some where to time yourentrance then."
I looked down. I still had not processed yet the fact that Charlie had indeed left me and it was all Harry Potter's fault. Alright, so maybe it was my fault for omitting every other truth but . . . all the same I couldn't tell that to Draco, now could I? Well, you see last night an old lover told my new lover everything about me that I had tried to keep hidden; he happens to be a Weasley and did I mention I'm married?
No. None of that would do. "Long story," I said in that pathetic little mew.
Instead of a supportive smile or casual 'alright' has I had grown used to, Draco slammed his hand against the door and cursed. "Fuck, Marlow." He turned to glare at me. "Get your things."
Draco practically shoved me out the door once I had changed in what smelled like some old fling's robes. It didn't really matter. Nothing seemed to really matter as I opened the door to our room at the Three Broomsticks.
It was cold and empty and Charlie wasn't there. All his things were gone and the only trace he had left me was a note saying to leave my key on the table. Tosser. I probably would have started crying again if my owl hadn't started tapping on the window.
I opened the window and patted its head. Must have been flying day and night to get here this quickly. I untied the salt-smelling parchment from its leg.
After a quick skim,I resisted the urge to crumple it up and instead put it into my pocket. He was off the coast of Morocco and didn't know when he would be able to come to Britain. He told me to be honest with Charlie and if he was worth his bits he would understand.
"Fat chance," I grumbled, pilling all my things into a suitcase. People like Charlie and Harry were so bloody noble. Fucking gryffindor graduates. They didn't have legacies behind them or reputations to uphold. If they run out of money they can just go get a job(surely any position in the world would be open to theHarry Potter) but me?Nooooo. I have to live in some complex mazeof all or nothing. I thought I had escaped it. I really did. But I'm back where I started.
I glanced around the empty room. There was nothing stopping me now.
I lit up a cigarette and walked out with my suitcase in hand. Why not go for it? I am still Xan Marlow. Why not show all those old rich ex-deatheaters that I am worth my boots. My father left Marlow Enterprises to me and I'll be damned if someone else decides its fate.
Doesn't change the fact that I'm shit-scared though.
"Alright," Draco said with a sour expression still on his face. "Come on," he gestured for me to follow him up the stairs. He didn't even make a move to take my suitcase for me. Hmpf, some gentleman.
"So this is my apartment, Marlow. Rule number one: don't touch anything." I was rather impressed. It was two floors, well-decorated and clean. Not your typical bachaelor pad. But then again, Draco wasn't your typical bachaelor, now was he?
"Finally decide to leave the mansion?" I smirked. To my horror he just ignored me. Not even a glance.
"Rule number two: this is my apartment and that means I will bring people into it and you have no say. So don't even try and comment." We went up the next set of stairs. "Rule number three: Keep your presance to a minimum and above all," he pushed open the door to what looked to be a closet more than a guest room, "don't let anyone know you stay here."
I pushed past him and placed my suitcase onto my bed. "You are ridiculously paranoid."
Draco wasn't having any of it though. He shoved me aside and open my suitcase. He proceeded to rifle through my clothes like he bloody owned them. Then arms full of garments he went to the window and bloody chucked them.
"Hey!" I shouted.
"Marlow," he said looking exhaustedly at me. "You never did have much style but that was a bloody disgrace."
"Those are all my clothes, Malfoy!"
"Buy new ones."
"I can't!"
"Yes, shopping at I'm Poor Limited really is a one-time event."
"I don't have any money!"
He stopped, stunned. "What?"
"Well, I have enough money for a couple days but the rest is . . ."
"The rest is?"
"Tied up . . . in another company."
"Well, go get it," he said looking from side to side like I was an idiot.
"It's in Romania."
"Go get it."
"It's under a different name."
"Go get it."
"I CAN'T!" a flicker of understanding came over his face but being the slimy git he was, he shook his head and left the room.
I sat on my bed and looked out the window. So what if--dare I say it--I'm technically poor. So what I am staying in Draco Malfoy's spare closet without so much as a change of clothes. Life wasn't a complete disaster. I still had Blaise. I was still . . .I was still Xan Marlow.
"Draco!" I shouted, zooming out of my room. "Draco!" I was going down the stairs so fast that I almost ran into him.
"What?"
"You're taking me shopping."
"Are you dillusional?"
"Your money relies on me and you can't really be expected a coup when I look like this." Haha! I had him there. He scowled and I was rather pleased with myself. However, it all kind of backfired.
"Definitely need to right down posture," Draco said, holding his chin and smacking the middle of my back to get me to stand up straight. There I was, standing in the middle of the room like a doll while Theo and Draco circled me, making of list of things that needed to be fixed.
"What's this?" Theo squeezed my arm.
"It's called muscle-mass," I snapped. All this poking and proding hand me feeling like some type of farm animal.
"Hideous."
"What is the list so far, Tipsy?" Draco barked at his house elf. What a god-awful name for a creature.
"Hair, clothes, accent, vocabulary, grace, ettiquette, knowledge, tact,posture," the little house elf read in a squeaky voice.
"How about I just transfigure into another person right now?" I said sourly.
"Where do we start?" Theo asked, completely ignoring me.
"Best idea would probably get her into some decent clothes and prioritize everything for this weekend's party," Draco replied looking at me like a piece of meat.
"What party?"
"My father's first party in his bid to buy the Canons," Draco drawled. "Honestly, don't you read?"
"I can't go to a party!"
"You can and you will," Draco grabbed my hand firmly and looked me right in the eyes.
I sneered. "Whatever you say, sire."
By the time Theo finally left it was too late to start on anything. Draco said we'd go shopping tomorrow. I was cranky at the time but all the while pleasantly surprised when the blond little bastard asked if I wanted to eat dinner with him. It wasn't a kind or formal invitation and he really killed the mood by mentioning his hot date that evening but it was better than being left to forage.
Dinner was served on a long wooden table that held the two off us on opposite sides of the room. Rule of thumb in stuffy rich families is the more insecure, the longer. From what I remember of boring summer holidays the order went: Blaise, Avery, Me, Pansy,Theo with at last Draco having the longest dinner table. For all the parties his father has held at the manor I don't believe it has ever been completely filled.
This memory made me smile into my mustard pork and incidentally caught Draco's eye. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing," I said with a laugh, "just thinking about when we were in school and those awkward summer vacations we would spend together."
"Oh," his face didn't react. No smile or scowl. Nothing.
"Do you ever . . . think about our days at school together?"
"Not really. No."
"Oh." I felt like I had a rain cloud over my head. It wasn't until that moment that I realized how much I had treasured those memories. But they meant nothing to him.
"Take your time finishing," Draco stood up."I have to go pick up my date." I wanted to hit him for insinuating just how gorgeousthe girl must be.
"Where are you going?"
"The opera."
He was just about to go out the door when I called his name. "What?" he turned around slightly irritated.
"Did you ever think about me, you know . .. after . . ." I shouldn't have asked it. It was horrible timing but I couldn't stop myself.
"No." The door closed with a slam.
"Bollucks," I slammed my hand down on the table. My glass for water spilled all over the mohogany.
Several hours later, unable to sleep or do anything productive, I took to trying to sort myself out on the streets of Draco's neighborhood. As one might expect, this little excusion included three packets of cigarettes and a couple glasses of wine before heading out the door.
"I don't care if Draco is too busy shagging his brains out to think about me," I muttered. Even though I did care.
"So what if he doesn't give a damn about me andnever came to look for me! He never even tried a bloody owl. I know Blaise sent him letters. Bet he wouldn't even bat an eyelash if he knew I dated Charlie Weasley. He didn't even care about Harry Potter. Stupid prat doesn't care about anyone but himself. Keeps me in a bloody closet! Me! I've known that tosser forever!"
It was the pause in between cigarettes that allowed my conscience to say, "But you don't know him now."
"I can't be living on memories, can I?" I murmured.
"That's right," I affirmed. "The past is the past. It's what I do today that counts. He can't make me feel bad. They can't make me feel bad."
"We can make you feel good, love." I looked up sharply and found my surroundings had changed. I was right next to a main street but there were no streetlights and several very burly men walking towards me. I searched for my wand but being the depressed idiot I am, I had forgotten it.
"Come on, love,"a man a head taller than me who stank of fish and beer slurred.
"How about it?" another came closer, equally odious.
"I am otherwise, um, engaged," I said, slowly backing away.
"We'd be happy to engage you," they came closer and lecherous grins widened.
"How about not," I turned and my heel and ran.
Though, you might remember, I am not what you would call athletic and those brutes easily grabbed my cloak and brought me down. "Get off!" I shouted, kicking and thrashing. My face was facing the concrete and my skin was certainly being scraped and torn raw.
One of the grunts grabbed my foot and started pulling me back down the street. "Let me go!" I screamed, the thrashing intensifying.
"Shut up!" My hair was pulled hard. I knew I should have gotten it cut before I left. You can perhaps talk your way out of one brute but three was mob mentality. So I resorted to something the concrete had not yet crippled, screaming.
I heard footsteps running towards me and I covered my head and consequently, my ears. There were mens voices and my foot was dropped. I didn't dare move. When all the sounds of struggle were gone, I felt someone nudge my shoulder.
"Can you get up?" Wait, I knew that voice . . .I pushed myself up and turned around. "Marlow?"
I smiled weakly, "Hey Draco." He was wearing his tuxedo and sweatrested on his brow.
He shock wore off and bent down to help me up. "Are you alright?" he spoke stiffly.
"I'm not bleeding am I?"
"A little."
I look at his hand that had helped me up. His nuckles were bloody. Out of his pocket I spied the head of his wand. "Thank you," I said, holding his arm to help steady myself as I walked.
He glanced at the blood I was smearing on his tuxedo. "You're more trouble than you're worth."
"I know you are but what am I?"
He put his cloak around my shoulders and helped me inside.