Chapter 2: Tattoos & Scars
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Summary: Main Story after 'Sacrifice Myself For You'. After Harry died, Draco set off to find his missing father, but what he finds first, might save him from his own intentions. Setting: 2 years after 6th book. Main pair: HP'DM. some: RW'HG. possible: RL'SB.
Disclaimer: My parents are the ones that buy me everything I own cuz I don't have a bloody job… #tear# and they won't buy me my own Draco, Ron, OR Harry… Parents suck like that…
Warnings: Slash (aka male/male pairings); no like, no read… and if you don't care for my choice of subjects to write about, then 'eff you sir, 'eff you in the bunghole… (credited to Robbie & Brynn). Gore, bad language and characters being IN character (for the most part, yet as they will, characters will change depending on events that happen) will appear in abundance throughout this whole story, so again, if you don't approve, then I will gladly offer my ass to thee for thou to KISS! (if you need a translation then I feel sorry for you…) Also, if you haven't read up to the 6th book, there ARE spoilers, too.
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A/N: These chapters will be long but will take a while to get posted… partially my fault cuz I am currently suffering from writer's block… partially cuz I am back in school… and mostly cuz I am dense #sigh# Any suggestions will be welcomed with open arms… well… mostly… and if you think I should change the title AND have a suggestion, then I will consider it… umm… I think that's it… XD
Sorry, but this is my first slashie… please tell me, peoples, if I get OOC… I will try to fix it (if you tell me about it first)… And if I get the phrases wrong, sorry… I am an American… don't blame me, blame my parents #grin#…
Jeez… I talk too much before chapters… #sigh# ON WITH THE CHAPTER! Teehee
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#blah, blah, blah# speech in Parseltongue
#blah# random noise
"Blah" spell or accented word
'blah' thoughts
"blah" speech
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>> Wednesday,November 2 >>
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When Black didn't stir for a good five minutes after his tirade, Draco left him to his own devices. He felt a bit better, but was still confused as to how he got to the third floor. He walked by the ugly portrait of the Trolls and kept going down the hall. As he rounded a corner, he noticed another, exact duplicate of the Troll painting.
"What the hell?" he muttered. 'We don't have any duplicates in this building because the people in them would have fits if there were more than just one of them in the castle… so why is there two identical troll portraits?' Draco shook his head and then headed down the hall in the same direction again, looking for the staircase at the end of the hall that lead downstairs.
He followed the hall the only route he could and then, to his amazement, he saw the painting again. The exact same one. The exact same trolls snoring in the exact same spots. But this time, there was a door directly on the other side of the painting… and it was slowly creeping open.
"So there must be duplicates of it… otherwise there wouldn't have been a door this last time by it."
Draco stuck his head through the door after it halted to a stop, wide open. The entire room was furnished comfortably in red and there was a large, maroon, overstuffed couch sitting in front of a cold fireplace. As soon as Draco stepped into the room he felt a chilly draft from the open window on the far wall of the room. The rest of the walls were covered in shelves upon shelves of books; mostly about defense, counters, and offensive spells. A pile of open, stacked books lying on a coffee table caught his eye so he flipped through the topmost book.
It looked fairly old, with tattered pages and a few rips and tears from use. 'In worse condition than what would be in the school library. Even worse than some of the old ones at home.' He glanced through the pages at some of the spells. Not much was above beginner's level in the beginning but it was more advanced near the back. He flipped through another few pages 'Dismentia' (would displace the noise caused by a spell or something else and make it sound like it came from another place). The book directly underneath it had 'Noloportus' (for an untraceable Portkey), 'Tartemsempra' (for breathing fire), and 'Hydro Hoxymus' (for freezing water) on one page and on the next, ripped page, had a rare spell that Draco had only heard of in passing from his father.
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>> Tuesday, November 15 >>
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The blinding light was the first thing Harry noticed as he slowly tried to pry his eyes open. He tried not to make any noise because he had no clue where he was. He tried blinking a few times, but the light was too bright for him. 'Must be facing a window…' He gingerly raised his right hand and slid it over on top of his face, to block out the piercing white-hot light. Harry tried to take a few deep breaths and realized the reason he couldn't breathe very well was because he was piled under what felt like a few dozen lead-lined, thick blankets.
'At least the bed's soft…' Harry noticed. It was the one luxury. He tried to twist his head so that the sun wasn't shining directly into his eyes, but a flash of pain brought more sweat to his face. He felt a pull on his neck too, like a huge piece of tape was holding his skin together right there. He took his hand from his face to feel what was there and felt a large bandage over part of his neck. Harry's eyes shot open.
'So that's what happened…' he thought, remembering the man from before he passed out. Then he remembered who he thought it may have been. 'Shit… If it is Mad-Eye… he's gonna turn me over to Dumbledore as soon as I… no… Dumbledore must already know…' Harry opened his eyes a slit and was greeted by the ugliest room he had ever seen. 'Well… second ugliest… Dudley's only beats it because of the clutter and all of the broken crap, though…'
The dark green walls (with black trim) were dotted with multiple water stains and looked to have not seen a feather duster or a bit of cleaning supplies for at least a decade or two. Whoever had designed the room had apparently tried to accent the color of the walls with the drapes, but the shade had turned a sickly color of pea green and the carpet, from what Harry could see of it, was also the color of vomit. And extremely plush. Harry looked for a door and saw that it was a blood red wood, but was splattered with spots that made it look as though it was actually bleeding. He winced for every person that ever had to live with this room like it was.
Harry started to look around the rest of the room, but he couldn't see much more of it without sitting up. Harry tried to prop himself up onto his left elbow, but a sharp pain from the middle of his back and his stomach simultaneously erupted in pain. He bit back a scream of pain and fell back onto his bed, which, had the bed not been impossibly soft, would have made him pass out from the pain of landing on whatever was aching so badly.
Apparently his scream had been louder than he had thought, because he heard a loud scraping that sounded like a chair being hurriedly scooted backwards and then he heard a thud as something crashed to the floor. He heard the unmistakable sound of a key being turned in the keyhole and then saw the doorknob turning and Harry, fully expecting Dumbledore or someone he knew, was surprised by the man that finally rushed through the door.
He looked no older than thirty, but he already had a small assortment of scars, the worst one being his missing leg. 'That's probably why I thought it was Moody…'
The man almost slid and fell trying to stop on the thick carpet when he saw that Harry was awake, but he managed to catch himself on the bedside table, which was a beautiful mahogany, the resin exhibiting the true colors of the wood beautifully- easily making it the only decent thing in the room- and also completely out of place.
'Come to think of it, all of the woodwork in this room is awe-inspiring.'
"Yeh've finally come awake then?" the man asked anxiously. Harry blinked a few times before he nodded. "Can yeh move yer toes n' everything alrigh'?" he added. For some reason, the man sounded quite nervous, but it was only a passing thought as Harry swallowed the sudden terror that he might have done serious damage during the battle to his spine. The man sounded a sigh of release at the exact same time as Harry when they both saw Harry's leg twitch and then a couple of his toes wiggle from underneath the covers. Harry relaxed his neck muscles and let the soft pillow catch his head. From the corner of his eye, he could have sworn he saw a strange look on his face, but it quickly melted into a bright smile.
"Yeh'll probly be wantin' something to eat now wo-" Harry cut him off with a loud bout of coughing, so he handed Harry a glass of water. He nodded his appreciation and then downed half of it, wetting his parched throat. He cleared his throat and then smiled tight-lipped. His back still was aching and he could now feel a sharp pain coming from his chest area. The skin felt tight, not unlike how the bandage on his neck felt when he first woke up.
"I-" trying to talk spurred another bout of coughing, but the man waited patiently until it subsided. Harry tried again. "I really don't think I could keep anything down yet…" He gave a weak smile and the man nodded briskly before realizing why Harry was wincing.
"Is yer back or anything hurting?" he prodded gently. Harry nodded again and the man gave him a lopsided grin. "Sorry bout that… Umm… By the by… Did ya realize… Yeh talk quite loudly in yer sleep?" he added, sounding slightly anxious. Harry nodded.
"Yeah… I've done that for a few years now…" he chuckled lightly, but the laugh ended as a sharp stabbing ache near his ribs made him clench his teeth tightly to not cry out in pain. A cool drip of liquid followed by a cold cloth was placed on his forehead and then he felt the cover being lifted off of his body. A cold breeze across his skin made him realize, with an uncomfortable jolt, that he was completely nude under the covers. The man was pulling them off him, in the meantime, but he stopped folding them down at his waist. Harry looked down his nose at his stomach, propping his head against the wall so he didn't have to keep his head up, and watched as the man checked to see if he was bleeding through the bandages covering a large area on his chest.
"Looks like yer fine… but… there ain't much I can do for them…" the man admitted cautiously. Harry almost shot straight up in the bed, but his wounds reminded him not to.
'Is this guy even a wizard?' If he wasn't, Harry was mostly safe from being found by any remaining Death Eaters (unless they had a tracking spell attached to him- which he didn't see how they could if the spell he had cast had worked properly-). If he was a wizard, he'd have to be careful about what he said so the guy didn't figure out who he really was. 'But if he was just some random person, he would have taken me to a hospital… so then why am I still here? Even if I had been a Muggle and he had taken me to a wizard hospital, they could have erased my memory about the hospital…'
Harry watched as the man made sure the bandages were snug and then he slowly slid the covers up over Harry's thin stomach and chest, taking his time tucking them around his shoulders and then smoothing out the wrinkles with his hands. Harry wasn't so sure he wanted the man's medical attention anymore.
"Um… I don't suppose you could get a few of these blankets off me could you? They feel like they're made of lead," Harry added jokingly, trying not to laugh to add effect. The guy was actually making him kind of nervous. The man peeled the topmost one off and immediately Harry felt cooler.
"Sorry bou' that. Yeh've had a fever fer quite a while now. It only jus' broke this morn' an' it's 5 in th' afternoon alrea'y." Harry blinked in horror.
"How long have I been unconscious?" he asked anxiously. The man hesitated and looked down, extremely nervous suddenly. He shifted on his feet and then answered.
"Yeh've been out fer abou' two weeks now…" he said, making Harry's jaw drop reflexively.
"Two weeks?" he echoed softly. "Two weeks? How the bloody hell did I stay out for two whole weeks?" Harry tried to keep his voice down but the shock had thrown him for a bit of a loop. A flash of angry annoyance from the other man caught his eye but it was gone as soon as Harry thought he glimpsed it and is replaced by pure concern radiating from the man.
'Why am I being so suspicious of the guy? He hasn't done anything that I should truly be concerned about…' The unthought 'yet,' echoing in his head, brought about a question he hadn't considered previously.
"Umm… sir… wh-"
"Hale… Hale Callahan," he told Harry impulsively.
"Mr. Callahan," Harry amended, "where exactly am I right now?" The man's lips tightened, again looking annoyed, but again it was gone as soon as he had seen it.
"Have yeh ever heard of th' Riddle family?" Harry automatically flinched, knowing that Riddle was the name Lord Voldemort went by during his school years at Hogwarts, and he immediately regretted it. Hale's face lit up in a sly grin and then he sat on Harry's bedside, hands in lap.
"Yes… I figured you would," he replied to Harry's reaction, dropping a now-obvious fake accent. "We are at his old residence. I'm fairly sure you've been here before… on your journeys with the famed Professor Dumbledore… Mr. Harry Potter," he drawled out slowly, no trace of the accent or nervousness from earlier.
Harry tried mentally calling for his wand, this time feeling for the magical vibrations of the phoenix tail feather core on purpose, and was stunned when no response came back. Hale held up the wand he had moments before, tried to sense and call for. Harry's eyes widened in alarm.
It had been broken in two, and the core stripped from the inside of the wood.
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>>One Year, 10 Months, 21 Days Later >>
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>>> Friday,September 19>>>
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"Well that helped a whole hell of a lot," Draco groaned. He had just finished up his reports for investigating another false trail to his father when a few dozen more reports came swooping in, dropping onto his desk. He had been planning on taking a short break but if he did now, he wouldn't be able to finish by the time his shift was over. Desk jobs sucked.
"Chin up, Draco," Kingsley Shacklebolt told him in his deep slow voice. The light overhead glinted off both his single gold loop earring and his bald, black head. Draco sighed and shifted in his seat as the tall wizard continued in what Draco figured was going to be his usual lecture about how Draco had to go through the same things that others had gone through before they actually went out to work directly on cases. "You'll be out on the streets in a week. Be thankful that I think you are ready, but believe me when I say that you are going to miss the desk." Draco blinked in surprise.
'Now that's a change. I thought he said I needed about…' Draco cut himself off when he realized it had already been almost half a year behind the desk. 'Merlin… he must be starting me early… I can't believe I've been an Auror this long already.'
"You mean I get to work hands on soon?" he asked eagerly out loud. Shacklebolt was his mentor but he was also going to be his partner when he finally got to leave the paperwork behind. Being the youngest Auror in history was having fairly good perks so far.
"Yes, but you have to have supervision for the first few months, to keep you from getting killed," he chuckled. "Don't want to loose you this far into it, my friend." Draco laughed.
"Friend maybe, protégé definitely," Draco retorted good-naturedly. Shacklebolt laughed and then clapped him on the back and almost knocked him off his chair. His shoulders were still shaking with mirth as he strode down the narrow hall from Draco's cubicle. 'You'd think wizards would be able to expand this place a little bit,' Draco thought, straightening and running his hand through his semi-long, loose hair. The potions and gels he used to use were a thing of the long time past, but he couldn't wait until it was long enough that it wouldn't be a nuisance and he could put it back in a pony-tail at the nape of his neck and not have it looking feminine.
Sighing, he settled himself down into his chair again and started on the newest reports. He knew his every informant by name, picture, power level, address, work place, friends; everything. No one slipped by him and he had to know it. Draco had to push back the sudden wave of anticipation, tinged with fear and dread that washed over him. 'One week,' he thought to himself, 'then I can get that bastard for what he put me and Mum through all those years.'
With renewed vigor, he delved deep into his reports and finished them in record time, making sure to file everything straight and perfect before finally turning in his file to the cabinet (which thanked him and wished him a good weekend) and then grabbed his cloak as he rushed out the door and through the fireplace to his flat.
Upon entering, he noticed that the usual greeting of yells and challenges from his owl was unusually subdued today, as if Aquila (1) had sensed that he would have to behave from now on if Draco was going to take him along on missions. The bird was too smart for it's own good sometimes but it was a damn useful addition when he was on a job. He had an unnatural talent for spotting lies and spells for concealment not to mention he is an excellent judge of character; though it was sometimes hard to tell if it was fondness or distaste that he showed when he nipped someone. A lot of things that came in handy.
Unfortunately, the only reliable invisibility spell he could use on the him was only good if the eagle owl was on his shoulder. It made it a bit hard to maneuver sometimes but it was definitely worth it in the long run, even if the bird was a bloody pest and ill tempered most the time. Draco hadn't yet told his superiors about him, but some aces needed to be kept down his pants(2)… or… whatever the Muggle expression was.
Draco grabbed a bagful of frozen mice out of the freezer and a tall plastic container from the cupboard. He turned on the hot water faucet and let it run for a few seconds until steam was filling up the sink where the water was hitting it and then he filled the container about four fifths of the way up and put two mice in the hot water to thaw. His owl looked at the pitiful frozen mice and glared at him with distaste, ruffling his feathers.
"I know, I know. But one of these days you will get used to the idea that we live in a Muggle building and you can't keep flying in and out of my window all the time to hunt. The coppers will be called and then it'll get ugly. So hush." Aquila turned his head away in mock anger, but eagerly accepted the mice (after nipping Draco and drawing blood) after he had dried the two mice off and they were a bit warmer than room temperature. "Be thankful I don't feed you leftover vegetable soup." Draco smirked when Aquila merely flipped his tail feathers at him, healed over his cut, and then went to his miniature balcony and looked out at the dismal view.
He could see multitudes of men and women who were just now getting off of work and thanked Merlin that they were so self centered that they never realized that he rarely entered his apartment by the front door to get home. Muggles are so unobservant, not that they don't have their few quirks though.
After giving Aquila his second mouse, Draco washed out the plastic container and then placed it back on it's shelf and then went to the main room and flopped down onto the black, over-stuffed couch and reached for the Daily Prophet on the coffee table next to him. There was another article about the 'mysterious' Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore and his lackeys seemed to be making a huge impression lately, but all the public knew was that he was the head of the Order. No one knew who the other members were, which suited everyone in the Order perfectly. He flipped the paper lazily towards the table, missed, and heard a scrambling noise and an annoyed meow. His silver and black tabby Maine Coon Cat, Roan, twitched his ear at Draco and looked at him reproachfully with his bright blue, violet speckled eyes.
"Don't look at me that way. You shouldn't have put your head right there." The cat's gaze never left his so he sighed and said, "Sorry… I guess I am a bit impatient today. I just never thought the day for being able to… er… legally try to find my father using Auror assets would come. It's gotten me a tad bit uptight." Roan jumped up on his stomach and rubbed his forehead against Draco's chin affectionately, kneading his chest with his sharp claws. "If you don't quit I swear u will never have kits!" Draco gritted out from between his teeth. Roan stopped, but still looked smug as he jumped to the floor and stalked away.
"Damn cat…" he muttered. Apparently Roan hadn't heard because he kept walking and disappeared around the corner leading to Draco's bedroom. Draco grinned and then flopped off the couch and onto the plush, cream-colored carpeted floor. He waved his wand and laid there while invisible hands worked the knots out of his back and shoulders. He relaxed for a while and then finally pushed himself off the floor and ran his hands through his hair to make it at least a little bit more presentable.
He pulled off his black and silver robes and then glanced at the clock on the mantle above the fireplace; 8:49 P.M.
'I guess I get to go bar… hopping…' Draco sighed. 'Muggles have the strangest phrases.' Unfortunately for Draco, part of his course for being an Auror included Muggles Studies. So he knew how to talk to them on their terms. For the most part. It was tedious. But necessary.
He changed into his Muggle clothes (or at least as Muggle he would go): a black t-shirt with a black, dragon leather jacket, torn blue jeans (he didn't want to look too rich in Muggle terms and invite uninvited pickpockets), and black leather boots; and then headed down the street. The bar where his new informant was supposed to meet him on Monday was about a two hour walk, but it was impossible for him to safely Apparate there, so, not having much Muggle money, he had to walk. Just to make sure he could function properly, he took Aquila along with him, casting the invisibility spell and checking in a mirror to make sure it worked properly.
About ten minutes from his destination, he almost literally ran into an old man standing outside a café. The old man grinned toothlessly at him and then moved on. Draco pulled his coat closer around him, wishing it was a full cloak, and glared at the man's filthy clothes. He kept walking and soon came within sight of the bar. The Tattoos & Scars Pub was open from 11 o'clock in the morning until 3 AM, closing only for the morning hours. It was a place frequented by many shady characters in the earlier hours of the day, but it was very popular with everyone during the day because of the amazing food and selection. The front of the bar was a restaurant and in the later hours of the day, the back was opened up also to accommodate the extra people coming in for the bar's services.
The bar actually had been funded by Draco's own father many, many years ago and had kept flourishing even after the funds from the Malfoys had been reacquired when the Malfoy funds had been frozen with his father's disappearance and his mother's death. The pub had then become a Muggle hangout, but in recent years was used for other purposes.
Taking a small detour to see more of the outside of the bar and it's surrounding buildings, Draco went down a small alleyway that lead to the next street over. He stopped as he felt the weight of his owl leave his shoulder. 'Damn ball of feathers… he knows better than to leave in the middle of the street. The invisibility spell around him only stays if he's touching me…' He turned to find out where Aquila went, but didn't see him on the busy Muggle street. He jogged ahead a little ways, but still couldn't spot him.
Frustrated, he turned to go in the front of the bar that had been his destination. 'Maybe he wanted to hunt or something…' Draco wondered to himself. He stopped when he saw a flurry of the damn owl's wings go around the corner of the building, leading to the back of the bar.
'What now?' Draco rounded the corner and found that someone had discovered his owl before he had. A handsome, black-haired man had Aquila perched on his forearm… and he was stroking him! Aquila barely tolerated his own owner, so why the hell would he allow…
Draco practically felt his jaw hit the ground.
The owl, bastard that he was, was nibbling the black-haired man's finger… affectionately! Draco strode up to the man, and was startled to be looking into brilliant green eyes when he finally noticed Draco standing there, tapping his foot impatiently, arms crossed. The stranger looked like he was about to choke on something foul.
"Who the ruddy hell are you? And what did you do to my owl? Damn bird is never affectionate. He's supposed to be a damn good guard owl and not go kissing up to every good-looking guy he comes across…" Draco blurts out, angrily, not really thinking of how he had worded it. "myself not included…" he added as an after thought to make the awkwardness of the situation dissipate, attempting a small crooked smile. It didn't exactly work. The stranger blinked once, twice, looking distinctly pale (possibly tinged a bit with green), and then finally must have gotten a hold of himself because he finally muttered out a name after a bit of hesitated thought. Rathe Callahan (3).
If that wasn't a fake name then Draco didn't know what was. The stranger had obviously met Draco before, and it didn't look like it had been a pleasant meeting. Strangely enough, even though he was sure he had never met the man before, Draco felt as though he was an old acquaintance that he hadn't seen in a long time or something.
Draco looked the man up and down, trying to see what his bird liked so much about him. Rathe was wearing a faded and torn, tight black shirt (with the American band, Metallica, written on it in shiny silver lettering) with the sleeves cut off and worn, torn, faded blue jeans sporting multiple grease stains. Draco tried not to wince in disgust at the man's ragged appearance. 'And the dust and sweat combined with long hair doesn't help in the least...Yet there is something… I can't pin my finger on it… but something about him seems… I dunno how to explain it…decent I guess.' What really caught Draco's eye, though, was the man's scar.
Yet again, Draco was reminded of someone, but he couldn't remember who exactly it was. The scar was pretty nasty looking. The long, healed gash on the side of his neck looked like it had been really deep when it had been inflicted.
"Sorry… I didn't realize he was yours… Here." Rathe tried to quickly hand Aquila back to Draco, but Aquila would have nothing of the sorts and merely scooted further up onto Rathe's arm, refusing to go back to Draco. Draco gave the owl a death glare, which was duly and doubly returned by the fierce golden eyes. The awkward position Draco had to go into to get the owl onto his shoulder made both of them extremely uncomfortable, but he finally got Aquila to where the only place he could go without falling off was Draco's hand, where Draco promptly grabbed a strong hold on his foot so he couldn't take off and jump back to Rathe. Draco backed away from the man and unconsciously tied a semi-permanent sticking charm from his owl to his shoulder and almost didn't think twice when Aquila walked up to his shoulder and shifted until he was comfortable, though miserably stuck to Draco.
And invisible.
'Shit…' Draco had watched his owl until he had settled into the cloaking spell and on his shoulder, but didn't realize until it was too late that he had just unintentionally vanished a rather large owl in front of a Muggle. He continued to curse himself until he realized that, either the man had turned away VERY quickly after Aquila had vanished, or Rathe hadn't noticed that the owl had just disappeared from Draco's shoulder. The man had already busied himself unloading heavy-looking boxes into the back of the bar, so Draco hurriedly took off down the alley and turned the corner to keep the man from noticing the missing owl, not once looking back.
As soon as he entered the dimly lit pub, he heard a new song start up from the jukebox in the corner of the room. He scanned for a seat, but everything was taken, so he sat down at the bar counter instead. Slurred screams from behind him caught Draco's attention for a moment, but he dismissed it as purely fun; non-threatening.
The bartender saw him sit down and made a beeline, seeing his expensive looking jacket, but his smile seemed a bit put out when Draco ordered a double shot of Vodka mixed with Margarita mix and a slice of pineapple (4); nothing fancy.
Draco sipped his drink as he scanned the room for all the exits and extra rooms, tapping his foot in time to the song, "I'll Take That As A Yes," to look like he was waiting for someone. The only exits seemed to be the front door and a possible backdoor through the kitchen to the loading dock. Thetwo heavily-muscled bouncers at the front door and the two on the opposite side of the room were alert and wary, looking very serious now that people were getting off work on a Friday and heading home and to the bars.
There was an upstairs, but all of it was visible from Draco's position in the center of the bar and there was only the one staircase leading to the landing and only one door up there. The bathrooms were on the right as people walked in the front double doors and there were pool tables a dozen or so feet away from where the dining tables ended. It was fairly nice for a pub, though strangely chaste for his father's taste.
'Though it might've been refurnished when the Muggles took it over.'
Draco let his mind wander for a bit and heard the next song, "Ten Rounds With Jose Cuervo," start playing. When he heard the pretty blonde woman next to him ask for whatever Draco was drinking, he listened in on the conversation she was having with the new bartender that had taken over on a new shift. She smiled and said "then she sent me a joke about why you should date hockey players. The last reason given was that baseball players only knew how to hit balls." Draco almost snorted his drink out his nose. The woman must have heard because she cast an amused glance at him and then nearly fell off her barstool.
"Malfoy?" she whispered in an amazed voice. Draco winced and then took a closer look. He still couldn't figure out who it was though. The bartender also looked startled and took a step back, covering it by turning to help another man at the bar, who hadn't even finished his drink yet. Draco noticed (now that he made a closer inspection through the dimness of the bar) that the new bartender was the same man that he had met out back, though the man gave no indication of recognition.
The woman sat back on her barstool, hooking her high heels on the bottom rung of the metal framed stool with a click.
"Oh don't worry your pretty little locks, you don't know who I am," she said when she noticed his blank look. Draco grinned sheepishly.
"Well at least that gets me off the hook for it-" she smiled back at him "-but it still doesn't explain who you are…"
"I'm Rita Skeeter's daughter, Lita. I know pretty much everything she wrote during your years at Hogwarts, but I never got the privilege of talking to you face to face," she rattled off. "She would never let me go to Hogwarts for interviews. So tell me, do you come here often? Better yet, do you have time for a full interview? I can see it now, 'Draco Malfoy Minus the Black Hood; How Did He Escape You Know Who's Grasp?' "
At Draco's horrified looks, she instantly changed from overly excited and inquisitive, to amused, laughing so hard she nearly fell off her stool, though it was a close call. 'I think the heels helped more than she would ever admit though…'
"Don't worry," she amended, "my mother hasn't imprinted all of her annoying behavior tendencies in me just quite yet." Lita swirled her drink around and took another sip. "Could I get more Vodka in this? Two shots is definitively not enough. I don't see how you can stand something so abstemious (5)," she added, looking at Draco. The bartender looked to have not heard her, so she said it a bit louder. "Sir?" Finally he looked at over his shoulder, looking the part of innocence as he apologized for not hearing her, though it was fairly quiet for the place. Draco noticed that the green-eyed man was pointedly not looking at him, but poured Draco a second drink when he asked for it.
"Well… as much fun it was to finally meet you in person, I must scoot." She finished her drink. Just before giving the bartender his tip, she ate the rest of her slice of pineapple, licking the juices off her fingers in an almost indecent, risqué way, and then winked at Draco in a friendly manner. "See ya later, tiger." Draco gave a short wave and downed the rest of his drink at the same time.
'At least her presence covered the fact that I had come looking like I was waiting for someone I hadn't met up with.' He waved the bartender over again for his bill and left as "A Good Way To Get On My Bad Side" came on over the jukebox, feeling like the green eyes of the bartender were drilling into the back of his skull, but not wanting to confirm it.
He was nearly mauled by Roan as soon as he put foot through the door to his flat. Roan kept trying to trip him up, yet get him to move faster at the same time by weaving in and out of his legs, yowling like he hadn't eaten in a week.
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Rathe collapsed on the sofa just inside the men's room during his first break of the day and sighed deeply, quickly falling asleep. One of his coworkers, knowing him well, woke him up exactly 28 minutes later, just in time to return to his first job of the day; working at the public library. He worked at the library from 8 in the morning until 5 in the afternoon, then worked at the bar from 5:30pm to half an hour after closing time at 3am. Both of the jobs he worked were only a few hours' walk away from Diagon Alley, strangely enough, but Rathe had neither the balls nor the time to make a trip there. He was pretty much a Squib anyways so it isn't like he would have much of a reason to go there.
He walked behind the front desk and started helping with the long check-out lines.
Rathe had a legal, permanent Portkey that he used to get from his residence to his job at the library, from there to his second job at the Tattoos & Scars Pub, and from there back to the house. He had almost no time that went unaccounted for, so his 'uncle,' also considereda Squib from birth, could keep track of him. He got about four and a half hours of sleep each night (plus the two half hour breaks at each job where he either ate or slept -sometimes both) and the only days he was able to partially sleep in were holidays that he wasn't allowed to put in extra time to his jobs. Not that it was his choice, but he'd rather be tired than take the alternatives.
Once the lines had dwindled, he took a cart of returned books and steered them over to the shelves, putting them back in their places. He walked slowly on his way back to the front desk, scanning the library for any familiar faces, like usual. Luckily, again, there was no one. Then he rounded the corner and ran right into a skinny, bleach-blonde haired man dressed completely in black, finishing with a black hat. For one heart-stopping moment, he thought he had run into Malfoy, but the man grabbed Rathe's hand, pulled him upright and apologized profusely for knocking him over.
'Definitely not Malfoy,' Rathe thought to himself, relieved. He stopped and took a closer look. 'Shit,' he finished.
"Umm… I don't suppose you could…" In his shock he had forgotten he was still holding Malfoy's hand. He dropped it like a hot coal and backed a few steps away. Malfoy gave him a strange look, a bit like he was suspicious, but as soon as he saw the manager of the library, he strode off hurriedly.
Rathe sighed deeply in relief. 'I haven't seen him in almost two years and now I see him twice in less than 24 hours… damn snake's prick…'
He returned to his job and grabbed another large stack of books. Typically no one had sorted them yet, so he was stuck with it and putting them back on the shelves. 'I really don't need this bullshit.'
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(1) Aquila (Ah-kee-lah) is the Anglo-Norman word for eagle (kinda like saying Tequila but with a short 'A' instead of a 'Te' 'Teh' sound… lol)
(2) Sorry… couldn't resist #grins#
(3) Rathe pronounced with a long 'a' and silent 'e.'
(4) Vodka and Margarita mix… das shite's good!
(5) 'dry' or 'not indulging in or involving excessive drinking' for you illiterate ppls… lol… actually I got it out of a thesaurus, so don't feel too stupid… teehee
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Acknowledgements and Answers (A.K.A. thanks for reviewing):
themaraudersaremine: … O.o' Psycho much? Lmao… I'm glad you feel better cuz you will not be happy with Lucius much throughout this story #evil grin# teehee
yukifunfan1234: Glad you liked it! does happy hamster dance and accidentally explodes a hamster… er… oops… and question, if you feel like answering, is the Yuki in your SN from FruBa, Gravitation, or something else? Cuz if it is FruBa then… GO KYO! #drools in daydream# Ahh… teh sexyness… XP
plotbunnybrat: I'm glad someone thinks that… it makes me feel warm and fuzzy, teehee... thanks for reviewing! #gives cookie to teh plot bunny# #gets mauled by EVIL FLUFFY PINK BUNNY RABBITS#
Daemon-In-White: (themauradersaremine) I'm sorry that I don't update as much as I should but believe me when I say that it isn't because of the readers (or lack thereof)… lol… I've got really bad writer's block right now and it is pissing me off… not to mention time and motivation aren't in large supply right now… I have no clue why and it sucks… I am trying though. Thanks for the pep talk though, I really appreciated it #grins and hugs# You (and the fact that I am bored out of my mind and my boyfriend is out of town) are the reason I updated! #hugs#