I hope you're all having a lovely holiday season! I've updated this story again (much sooner than I anticipated)! Thank you for your endless support; I've gotten a few requests that this continue and I am slowly working on it. I have several readers who look over my work prior to my posting; they are aware of where this is going and some have mixed feelings on it. I do admit that it is different from what I usually write and it is a slow burn (but I tend to write that way). With the release of Fantastic Beasts I feel like having a wizarding university isn't so far-fetched. I am using this for storyline purposes and to create a more vivid setting for the new world post-Voldemort victory. As always, I appreciate your feedback and welcome all comments. Thank you for reading!
LCailan
8. Boys will be Boys
Sources from within the Ministry of Magic have confirmed that Draco Malfoy, son of the new Minister, is responsible for the attempted burglary at Gringotts Wizarding Bank. The Goblin Liaison Office can also confirm that Master Malfoy was assisted by Dwenndi the goblin, whom he payed off with several goblin-made silver coins. The Liaison Office states that Master Malfoy was able to bribe Dwenndi with the aforementioned silver mint in exchange for access to Madame Zabini's vault. The Ministry and Goblin Liaison officials are saddened by this occurrence. Dwenndi has resigned from his position at the Bank and has made a public apology to the Ministry for his grave error. Master Malfoy will sit before the Wizengamot. More news to follow...
Theo Knott dropped the paper and shook his head amused by the fact that Draco's shenanigans in the Prophet were the only thing that could distract him from his recent thoughts of Hermione Granger.
He glanced up to survey the busy street beyond the window of the small barista that sat across the way from the space between the two brick walls that were the entrance to the University. He wondered briefly if the Muggles that commuted through London's warehouse district wondered why a single coffee shop stood on this block amidst all the old, industrial buildings that hadn't been used in eons. He also wondered what they thought of the batty old codger who owned the establishment. But the coffee shop had been there for years. The old wizard who owned it serviced the many students who walked through the doors of the University just across the road. He appeared Muggle enough, Theo supposed and no one had ever bothered him.
When witches and wizards began graduating from primary schools of magical training in the British Isles, Europe and Asia and the demand for higher education became apparent, several wizarding universities and institutes were put in place so that further education would be available to those who needed or wanted it. The British Ministry chose London as one of the locations. The University itself wasn't a large establishment; it was made up of several buildings surrounded by a tiny dining area which also served as a gathering place for students. It was rather specialized in the arts of potion making and defensive magic for those who wanted to be Aurors, Healers or work towards specific roles within the Ministry.
It, like the Ministry of Magic, was unseen by Muggles and sat nestled between two abandoned warehouses. Protected by several strong disillusionment charms, the University had never been found by Muggles and no one questioned why the particular strip of warehouses remained unoccupied. Nor the fact that there was one business along that particular stretch of London streets.
The old wizard who owned the tiny, usually-crowded barista kept to himself most of the time. For Muggles, he served hot, strong brewed coffee and several types of pastries. For the wizarding community, especially students, there was coffee, pumpkin juice and delicious rock cakes (very different from those made by Hagrid, the gamekeeper at Hogwarts). Few knew the man who sold them these delicacies. But there was a mutual agreement amongst most students that his food was better than that sold by the witch in the University dining hall.
Theo was not partial to rock cakes. He did not care for sweets in general although he was quite fond of his mother's recipe for sweetbreads. Instead he had purchased a large black coffee and nursed it for the last hour while trying not to think of Hermione whilst reading a copy of the Daily Prophet.
What the piss, Malfoy?
He stared solemnly at the photograph splashed on the front cover. It showed two grim-looking goblins guarding what Theo supposed was the Zabini vault. Had Draco really gotten into that vault? Would anyone ever really know? Theo wasn't much into Ministry affairs (much to his father's chagrin) but he did know that Lucius Malfoy would do everything to cover up Draco's latest indiscretion. He had done so dozens of times before and he would do so again -especially since his own reputation was on the line. And no way in hell would Lucius allow Draco to ruin something like his position with the Ministry. Balls, after all he was Minister for fucking Magic.
No, Draco wouldn't pay for this, no matter what the Prophet was spewing. Beyond the obligatory and rather proverbial slap on the wrist, the younger Malfoy would get away with his latest scheme unscathed.
Lucky bastard.
The question now was whether or not Malfoy had managed to get into Blaise's mother's vault.
Merlin's titty, if he got away with that, I'll-
The door of the barista creaked open and Blaise Zabini entered, snowflakes whirling and melting in the warm, coffee-scented air. He shook off his long black winter cloak and gazed around the room expectantly before spotting Theo who was sitting at a table by the windows.
The only other patrons, two witches who had been sitting on the other side of the room, whispered to one another as Zabini walked with an air of confidence across the room. He held his head high, ignoring the girls' curious looks or any possible conversation that would have to do with him. Theo admired his ability to feign nonchalance. He knew his friend was beyond perturbed at the coverage dealing with his mother's vault.
"Zabini," Theo greeted, sliding his chair back so his friend could sit down.
Blaise sank into one of the rickety chairs with a sigh. It was clear the dark-skinned man was weary but even the simple act of sitting down was done with a measured amount of grace.
"Knott," He replied. "God any bloody coffee left? I'm sodding bushed."
He closed his eyes for a moment.
Theo signaled one of the girls behind the counter before giving Blaise a solemn once-over.
"You saw the latest paper?"
Blaise glared at Theo.
"Who hasn't?"
"So, did Malfoy manage to retrieve your bauble?"
Theo had spoken nonchalantly, demeaning the value of the treasure that Malfoy had broken into the vault for. It made Blaise see red.
"It wasn't a bauble; it was a watch. It was extremely valuable, goblin-made, specifically for my father, you sodding prick."
Blaise scowled, giving Theo a scathing look as he continued.
"The watch is immeasurably valuable and nothing can match its worth. I bet anything the goblin that helped Draco wanted to get his grubby claws on my watch more than anything else."
With a furtive look, Blaise dipped his hand into the depths of his robes and then retrieved a small gold object, ornately decorated and expensive-looking. He lay it on the table.
"Too bad for the bank that Draco managed to swipe it without anyone catching him."
Blaise's voice held paramount satisfaction and he wore a lazy grin when Theo looked up at him.
"Bloody brilliant!" Theo stated with an air of awe. "I didn't think the bastard had it in him."
"Who, Malfoy? Gods, that man will do bloody anything; that's why I asked him to help me."
Blaise spoke with assurance, cupping the watch in the palm of his large hand protectively. Theo rolled his eyes.
"You know, if your mother could keep her lovers straight and keep their numbers down to a manageable number, these things wouldn't happen. There wouldn't be innumerable men vying for your father's baubles."
"You're just jealous that my mother is lovely and yours was ugly as sin. I wager she paid your father a pretty Galleon to marry her."
Theo smirked, finishing his coffee.
"Don't talk ill of the dead," he replied blithely.
Though both men possessed looks that no one could scoff at, Blaise Zabini had the Mediterranean good looks of his mother and the aristocratic features of his father. He had taken so many women to bed with him that most of his best mates had long ago stopped counting. Like mother like son, Theo had supposed. He was well-built and his confidence and charm were only the bow on the outwardly perfect man-package.
Theo, on the other hand, was tall and thin - reedy like his father. His mother had been a lovely creature, albeit a bit mousy. Theo had inherited his mother's hauntingly beautiful eyes. They were deep-set and the color of the darkest chocolate. Though he wasn't the worst looking bloke in the world, Theo found himself secretly jealous of Blaise's charisma and good looks because he was decidedly less gregarious and social. Theo didn't view himself as shy; he simply was not trusting of other human beings and it showed in his inability to easily associate with them. Outwardly he seemed outgoing and nonchalantly involved but if one were to look closer his charm was devoid of emotion. In fact, the only other human being that Theo had opened up to at any length had been Hermione Granger, of all people.
Blaise's coffee arrived and he took a long swallow, sighing with pleasure.
"Perfect, as usual," he offered his comment with a grin at the girl who had served him. It reduced her to blushes and dimpled smiles as she hurried back to her station. Theo watched this with distaste as he finished his own, cooling mug, stopping all thoughts of Hermione once more.
"I say, why do you need that sodding watch for? You could have put Malfoy in Azkaban for Merlin's sake! Was it worth that?"
Blaise grinned.
"He would have gone to Azkaban only if he allowed himself to get caught with the goods. He didn't. And besides, he's Lucius' son; there is no way he's going to pay for this, even if he deserves to. Lucius wouldn't ruin his pristine reputation and Draco knows it."
Theo pushed away his empty mug and then glanced out at the falling snow.
"Though that may be true how do you know that he won't get punished?"
"I told him he didn't have to do it. I'm thrilled he succeeded however," replied Blaise, taking a moment to admire the watch once more before quickly pocketing it.
"I'm to give it to my fiancé. Can you imagine the headlines? That Skeeter bitch is going to have a fucking holiday."
His voice seemed casual but to those who knew Blaise, there was a touch of sarcasm just below the surface. He sat, leaning casually back against his chair, twirling the mug in between long, graceful fingers. He would not look at Theo; his face was a blank mask.
Theo leaned forward with growing interest on the subject that was the bane of Blaise's existence – and who happened to be his betrothed as well.
"You know Lucius Malfoy must hate that you're involved in this; he must abhor the fact that in spite of everything that happened between Draco, you and Pansy are to be wed. He was banking on that match for Draco."
Blaise smirked.
"Draco never wanted Pansy; God knows I don't want her."
He sighed.
"I'm marrying her out of propriety, no more no less. She knows it, I know it, and the pureblooded world knows it."
Theo said nothing, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around his empty coffee mug. Blaise knew his friend, however.
"Mate, sooner or later that father of yours will make you choose someone. It's unavoidable."
Theo shrugged, his face darkening with distaste. It was a subject he didn't like to dwell on; he was grateful when Blaise didn't push to continue their conversation in that direction. Instead, he grinned.
"That's neither here nor there though, yeah? We all know old wizarding families marry out of obligation," he finished with a little flick of his hand. "That's why we have the Club."
The Club.
Theo liked the air of confidence and satisfaction in Blaise's voice. He liked it because Amortentia or 'the club' as most wizards called it, happened to be his passion and pride - the business he had founded two years ago. It was what everyone talked about but no one really understood. It was the one thing that had catapulted Theo from just a regular bloke to one of the youngest entrepreneurs in London.
What had started as a small establishment to host acts like the Weird Sisters, Celestina Warbeck and several other up and coming acts had morphed into a high-priced gentlemen's establishment.
Well-known within the wealthy, pureblood circles, the Club catered to men who wanted a private, clandestine rendezvous with a woman other than their wife. Theo offered them this along with access to private rooms and the best of food, drink and entertainment. It had taken off immediately, become - and still was - one of the most popular establishments in wizarding London.
Theo had dropped his plans for attending the University; his family had frowned upon him owning a wizarding pub. His father had all but disowned him after finding out what business Theo had gotten into. To that day, the elder Knott had no idea what sort of business Theo really ran.
But the Club's success - and lack of his family's involvement - had ensured that Theo would want for nothing. He, as the owner and sole beneficiary of all assets, was nearly set for life. Only time would tell if this would continue.
Theo grinned.
"Speaking of…The Club has a holiday special-"
But he was interrupted by a cold, sarcastic voice from behind the two men seated at the table.
"The Club is a filthy place where lustful men can fuck whores who get paid a pretty penny to pretend they want someone, isn't that right?"
There was no mistaking the disdain in Draco Malfoy's voice. Blaise and Theo turned, both wearing weary expressions. They had not heard the door creak open to usher in the arrival of their blonde friend.
As popular as the Club seemed, some felt they were too good to be associated with it. Draco was one of those men; he had never been inside the establishment and shunned anything to do with it.
"Malfoy," Blaise greeted, sliding over so that Draco could fit at the small table.
His pale face was pink from the winter air and he shook large snowflakes from the hood of his traveling cloak.
"Zabini," he replied and then his silver eyes flickered in Theo's direction.
"Knott. How is your whorehouse, by the way? Still thriving, I gather?"
Theo offered a half-smile, refusing to be baited by Malfoy's bitterness. He knew what people thought of his work; he had long ago come to terms with the fact that it would never be fully accepted in all circles. He simply didn't bloody care.
"It's not nearly as dirty as you describe it, Malfoy. I run a respectable business with respectable women. I offer quite a rare commodity. Got in a slew of applications from Ireland the other day; seems like I'm doing quite well."
Draco sneered.
"Right. If I fancy a fuck, I can get it anywhere for free. In fact, I aim to bed my own Irish wench, Patty O'Flaherty. She's a thousand times better than that trash you pay at your Club. What you're doing is disgusting and if your father knew-"
Theo scowled, his good mood gone as if with a wave of a wand.
"My father won't know."
"Your father is clearly an imbecile."
"And yours is a weak fool and can't control his own son. Not to mention that he's one of my biggest patrons. Good for me but bad for his reputation which he seems to care so much about."
Draco's face was white with suppressed anger. He could not argue with Theo; his father had frequented the Club so often they knew him there by name. Of course, it was just another thing swept under the rug. Draco hated the world; he hated the Ministry for its inability to judge all people by the same rules. How was it that his father was a weak man, a womanizer, unable to admit his own faults and yet he was still praised so highly by the wizarding world? How was it that Lucius Malfoy was the Minister for Magic when he deserved no such title?
"Just because my father is a whore does not mean I must follow suit," was all he said, though Draco's voice was tight with tension.
Blaise smirked and Draco shot him a nasty look.
"Go ahead and say what you're going to say, Zabini. Why is it that your mother doesn't work for Theo? I hear he pays well and it's good work for a woman who likes sex as much as she does. My father has fucked her plenty of times, I hear."
Blaise who had opened his mouth to speak paused and thought better of it, his eyes flashing for a moment. He leaned back against his chair.
"How strange would that be for me, Malfoy? I love the Club; I can't have my mother ruining that even though I wager she'd be quite good at what they do there."
Theo rolled his eyes.
"You both make it sound so unsavory! I do an honest man's work; the world is simply unable to admit they enjoy the pleasures of the flesh. It's not always about sex, either."
Draco looked ill.
"Whatever it is or isn't, bottom line it IS prostitution."
"It is the company of a smart, well-experienced woman."
"It's disgusting!"
"So you say when you have never been there."
Blaise laughed at the exchange between his closest friends before he leaned towards Malfoy.
"Even though I hate to break up this glorious conversation I must interrupt to thank you for what you've done for me," he said pressing his finger against the article on the front page of the Prophet. "You, my dear mate, are brilliant!"
Draco smirked.
"It was simple. Give a goblin something he wants and he'll do anything for you. Much like women, those goblins are."
He grinned.
"Besides, it pissed off my father and as you know, there's nothing I love more!"
Theo watched as Blaise and Draco laughed rather mirthlessly before the blond turned his attentions back on Theo.
"I don't think I ever did ask you, Knott, but how much do you pay those whores of yours? It must be quite a pretty penny. Seems like you've got no shortage of…the willing."
Theo shrugged nonchalantly.
"I try not to share sensitive information, Malfoy. And even I was accustomed to sharing such information, I certainly wouldn't tell you. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, or so they say."
Draco scowled.
"If I were your enemy, your father would have known that you're a whorish entrepreneur ages ago."
Theo rolled his eyes.
"Don't forget, my business is more successful than anything you've ever ventured to do. Let that one sink in. I can't help it that you get all pissy just because I've succeeded in life and you….well, you haven't."
With that, Theo stood and shrugged on his robes, rummaging in his pockets for a few moments and coming up with several small, pink cards.
"Don't be a stranger, Zabini. Amortentia always welcomes the repeat customer," he said tossing him a card. Then he gave Malfoy a glare. "If you're ever in the area, your first visit is on the house," he said winking. "Who knows, you might even meet someone you like, yeah?"
Then he gave them a glance before sweeping towards the exit, pausing to make sure the coast was clear and disapparating from sight. Draco glanced down at the card with a scowl before pulling out his wand and casting a burning spell on it. He watched as it disappeared with satisfaction.
"I'll never sully myself that way," he muttered as Blaise leaned back and laughed, shaking his head.
Theo was only able to relax once he had Apparated to his office and sank into the familiar leather chair behind his desk. His office was cluttered but he liked it that way. This was his sanctuary; he hardly let anyone in.
The room was silent, the only noise the distant sound of Muggle cars going back and forth on the main street beyond the alleyway. He stared out of the window for a few minutes clearing his mind. Then he turned to his desk, picking up a stack of applications he needed to work through; the Club was hiring.
A few moments later a knock on the door startled him as his dimpled secretary walked in.
"Sir, a few more applicants for you."
She handed Theo an envelope and then hesitated.
"Some of these…well, there might be a problem."
"A problem?"
"Yes, with…with their birth, you know, sir. These are Muggle-born girls."
Something in her words, in the utterance of them, angered Theo. He eyed his secretary coldly.
"And why might that be problem?"
She colored slightly, her words hesitant.
"Well, since – you know how our Minister enjoys time at the Club, and how he feels about-"
He shushed her quickly with an abrupt wave of his hand.
"I'll take those," he said reaching for the stack of applications from witches that his secretary clearly deemed unworthy. "And I'll interview them first. Please call them to set up meeting times. I won't have you or anyone tell me who I can and cannot hire."
The girl turned, looking – in Theo's opinion – less than chastised.
The door clicked shut and he was left alone in silence again, staring down at the pile of papers unseeingly, trying to assess the sudden surge of anger that had come over him.
Why did I act like that? I normally don't care who works for me and who doesn't.
It didn't take long for Theo to realize that his feelings had everything to do with Hermione Granger – the one witch – the Muggleborn witch he couldn't stop thinking about. It wasn't just that he had felt bad for her that afternoon they had last spoken. She had looked so sad, so lost. He had told her not to care so much about what others thought but he hadn't thought about how little that might mean.
She was stuck, just like all those others of Muggle birth. She was stuck doing those jobs that no one else wanted. She was stuck, unable to continue her education, unable to better herself, stuck working at some dingy pub making only enough money to get by.
Theo felt shame wash over him; he wondered if Draco or Blaise ever felt it – the undeniable feeling that it wasn't fair that they received preferential treatment simply because of their birth. They were able to go to school, to get high-paying jobs, to live normal, productive lives.
Bloody hell! Of course they don't give a piss! It's Blaise and Draco after all!
His mind's eye returned to that afternoon, three days' past, and the sad tears in Hermione's eyes, the frustration in her voice, the hopelessness in everything she was. He wondered if she had truly liked him or if she was using him as an escape from the life she wasn't able to live.
And if she did use me, would it be so bad?
Theo had never cared what anyone thought about his life decisions. He sat back against his chair, looking around the tiny, cluttered office – the pride and joy of his life. His decision not to let anyone tell him how to live his life had given him everything he had ever wanted – a way to separate himself from his father and the means to never have to rely on anyone for help. He simply provided a service that most men in his position desperately needed. He provided an escape from the dearly reality of being an upper-crust pureblood. You did what was proper and then you went to the Club –where you were able to act on those fantasies that you weren't allowed to have.
Such irony, he knew.
If I've never given a toss what they think, why should I start now?