4. The Knight Bus

Draco Malfoy was waiting patiently by the Leaky Cauldron when it started to rain. There was no sign of the Knight Bus or Ernie Prangs and the rain was getting thicker by the minute. On top of that his extended arm was aching from trying, for the longest time it seemed, to hail the bus. Occasionally a patron from the Cauldron would exit from the squeaky doors and give him a look that seemed to question his mentality before shaking their head and walking away. Right now, if he had Granger in front of him, he would strangle her scrawny neck – well maybe just choke her a bit. In any case the thought was the only comforting one he had on this dark, rainy, and lousy evening. After another jolly patron's exit was announced by the squeaking door, a clever thought hit him.

"Say, you there," Draco called out to the man.

"You mean me sir?" the man replied with a look of curiosity and amusement.

"Yes you sir – would you like to earn some money?"

The man looked completely puzzled and a little annoyed but curiosity seemed to get the better of him.

"Earn some money – doing what?" he asked as he scrutinized Draco's position. "And what are you pointing your wand at?"

"I'm not pointing my wand," Draco fired back, completely annoyed. Thinking better of his situation, he softened his tone. "I'm trying to hail the Knight bus you see – I have to catch the bus tonight."

"What does a gentleman like yourself need with the Knight bus? Can't you apparate or ride a broom?"

Once again, Draco could feel his anger trying it's best to rise up. After taking a moment to forget the asinine remark, he cleared his throat to speak.

"I'm not trying to catch a ride – I desperately need to catch someone on the bus," he said plainly.

"Oh – I see, well good luck with that," the man said and moved to walk away.

"Hey, you want to earn a couple of Galleons or what," Draco called out. The man stopped and turned around.

"For what?"

"I need a break. If you could try and hail the bus for me while I step inside and have a drink and something to eat, I'll pay you a couple of Galleons," Draco said encouragingly.

"Oh, I couldn't do that. I've got an appointment you see."

Draco looked hard at the man and did his best to size him up. He didn't look like the type that kept important appointments. Maybe an offer of more money would do the trick.

"Okay, five Galleons. What do you say?"

"Could you make it ten?" the man asked sheepishly. Draco winched. Ten Galleons – the man was being completely rapacious.

"Okay, you've caught me in a tight spot. Five now and the rest when you hail the bus," Draco said and reluctantly handed the man five Galleons.

"Thanks," he said and stuffed the money in his pocket.

"You drive a mean deal," Draco said, and quickly turned for the Leaky Cauldron. He looked back to make sure the wizard had his wand extended to hail the bus.

Inside, the Leaky Cauldron was warm and glowing with a cheery atmosphere and soft cackling din. The place was packed, but there was a single table close to a large open hearth and roaring fire. With a few quick steps, and side stepping the slower patrons, the table was his. A few minutes later he was enjoying a butterbeer with hot soup and a buttered and toasted cheese sandwich. He called for a refill on his drink and grabbed an evening edition of the Daily Prophet. The results of his court case were on the second page along with a photograph of him leaving the courtroom. "Don't these people have anything better to print," he muttered to himself and threw the the paper down.

After a time, when the fire had dried his cold damp clothes and the beer and food were long gone he had very nearly drifted off to sleep. Nodding from consciousness to sleep and back, he heard a commotion by the door as several old witches and wizards entered the pub. Hm-mm... That damn bus should have been here by now. Better check.

Reluctantly extracting himself from the chair, he drug over to the front door and peeped out. Nothing. No Knight bus and the street was empty. The wizard he paid the five Galleons to was nowhere in sight. This could be trouble – real trouble. He'd have to think of something and fast.

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"Lunch is almost ready sir – can I draw you some bath water?"

Groaning, Draco tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

"What time is it Gilbert?" he asked the little house-elf.

"It's almost twelve sir," the elf said and looked back with stern elfish impatience.

"Oh hell... yeah, draw the water I'll get up in a minute," he said with a drawl.

"Arrg..." he moaned and threw his hands over his eyes. There sat the goofy conductor uniform on the chair. And just when he was beginning to think it had all been a bad dream.

The uniform, the corny cap and the awful coin changer, the whole ridiculous outfit was laying on the chair where he had left it. It had taken nearly all night to find the Knight Bus. He had apparated over half of London before spotting the bus stopped at Tottenham Court Road. Ernie Prangs had to be half blind and only knew to how to avoid the things that absolutely couldn't get out of the way. How they got through the night without a major accident was a minor miracle.

Ernie couldn't get it through his Owlish looking head, he was supposed to meet with Draco. According to his instructions he was supposed to meet Draco Tuesday night. It was Tuesday night, he explained, that the Knight bus stopped at the Leaky Cauldron at five o'clock. No doubt, Granger had the time screwed up. Ernie managed to pull a trunk out of the back of the bus that was stocked with uniforms and hats. With several curious old witches eying his every move, Draco changed behind a curtain and went straight away to work. It quickly became obvious that many of the bus occupants had nowhere in particular to go. Some would sleep. Some would talk, laugh, and cackle endlessly, but all rode along without the least concern as to where they were or where they were going. Only one old wizard actually got off the bus. The rest of the passengers rode until daybreak and then got off the bus, still cackling, to trudge along in the hopes of finding better daytime lodging. Many would have a trunk or suitcase to manage, and he would have to wrestle with their baggage and make change from the rickety coin changer and pass out tickets.

All he had to show for a nights work was stiff muscles and a thin layer of oily grime. But the ill effects didn't stop there. It managed to suck the life and spirit from you quicker than a Dementor's kiss. Draco had no idea how he would manage to endure this abuse for a solid year.

The only glimmer of hope in this entire depressing mess was knowing that the Knight Bus didn't run on weekends. On the weekends he'd be as free as a bird. He would have to get in touch with Astoria and make plans for the weekend. That would be the best way to recover from a solid week of this abusive toil and blow off steam. They should be able to plan a weekend at his parents lake-house. He could already imagine a candlelight dinner, a cold bottle of wine, and later, the two of them snuggling in front of a blazing fire. He began to smile as his imagination carried him further. Now the two of them were coiled like two ells in front of the fire. And now overheated, the excess layers of clothing were beginning to peel off. A look of deep contentment fell over him as they slowly...

"Master Draco, the bath is ready sir..."

‡‡‡‡‡

Damn, two lousy weekends in a row, he mused to himself as he entered the atrium of the Ministry building. Last weekend Astoria had been committed to a boring and rather formal affair, of which he had accompanied her as her escort. And the week before that, she had joined her parents on an out of town trip to visit family. The cozy weekend getaways he had envisioned had never materialized, and he was still left wondering what he could do to lift his spirits, which were at an all time low. Maybe this next weekend would turn out better.

"Good morning sir!" greeted the little security guard.

"I suppose you'll have to check my wand," Draco replied..

"Ministry regulations sir," he said with a smile and Draco handed the wizard his wand.

"Well, I hope it works better this time," Draco barked.

"Oh yes, I heard about that problem. It was not your original wand, was it?"

"No it's a replacement."

After a few quick swirls of the antenna like scanning device a little piece of paper shot out of the machine.

"Yes, ten inches of Hawthorn with a unicorn hair core – Draco Malfoy," the little wizard announced proudly.

"Yes – I already knew that," he said arrogantly and snatched the wand back.

Snubbing the lift attendant that gave him the runaround on his last visit, he ducked into the correct lift.

"Department of Magical Law enforcement," he snapped and the attendant made no reply, but closed the scissor bar door and set the lift into motion. After the normal amount of jostles and jolts the lift finally slammed to a stop.

"Department of Magical Law enforcement sir," the attendant managed to get out.

"Thanks loads."

Down the long halls the tiles slipped past in a depressing grey repetition. People would walk by with bright smiling faces and a cheery 'good morning' greeting. It was enough to make you sick. Now somewhere in this menagerie was the short hall he was looking for. But the last person he was looking for was heading straight for him – Ron Weasley.

"Hello Weaselbee," Draco muttered with a smirk nod.

"Sod off Malfoy. What do you mean strutting about here with that same old bile?" Ron said, he face becoming as red as the hair on his head.

"Alright, alright. Nothing to get upset about," Draco said, feeling at a disadvantage. This was certainly no place to pick a fight, he thought as Ron was backing him into the wall.

"That'll do," Hermione yelled, poking her head out of her office door. "Right this way Draco."

Ron backed away enough for Draco to squeeze out of the uncomfortable situation and head to Hermione's office. Her office was as dull and bare as he remembered. A small desk and reading lamp with an uncomfortable wooden chair beside the desk. The bookshelf, while full, was plain and scuffed and scared through years of Ministry abuse. He grabbed the wooden chair and glanced back to make sure Ron didn't follow.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked as she casually thumbed through several sheets of parchment.

"How would I know. Weasley is a bit touchy this morning," he said, shaking his head.

Hermione never looked up but continued to turn through the parchment, her eyes carefully tracing out each line of text. She shook her head then dropped the parchment on the desk.

"So how would you evaluate your performance over the last two weeks Draco?" she asked, her hazel eyes lifting quickly to meet his.

Again, the chestnut hair was straightened into the nifty pageboy. Clever trick. She was mostly hidden behind freshly pressed full-cut robes. When she had walked around the desk, she appeared slightly taller and her footfalls sounded as if she was wearing heels. After several moments of silence her cauldron sized and hazel colored peepers began to narrow as she canted her head slightly, as if to prod him into speaking.

"I don't know – what does your report say?" he answered indifferently.

"Well, it's a long report. But the short version – it says your performance was lousy," she said then drew her lips tightly.

"I thought Ernie was pleased with the work," he said with a shrug. "At least I showed up every day – thought that should be good enough."

"That's a piss poor attitude Draco. Is that the way everything is with you. Damn, you haven't changed since school."

"If you say so – hey, I thought you were turning me over to someone else Granger?"

"Yes, well, Cynthia developed acute Laryngitis and won't be able to return for a while. Are you eager to get rid of me?" she asked and then cracked a slight smile.

"Heaven forbid. Wouldn't think of it," he said mockingly. He couldn't help but notice the smiling eyes. He didn't ever recall Granger smiling in front of him before. "You must be really enjoying this."

"Immensely, but back to business. This performance report implies you're barely doing any work at all. If you don't buck-up and dig a little deeper, this opportunity may be revoked. You'll find Cynthia a lot tougher than I am," she cautioned.

"Opportunity? You've got to be kidding. Since when did making me look like a fool in a clowns costume become an opportunity?" He said defensively. "I don't deserve this," he added shaking his head.

"You were found guilty Draco and originally sentenced to Azkaban... Remember?"

"I didn't deserve that either. And guilty of what? Okay, I signed some papers. Does that make it fair – sending me to Azkaban for three months? Is that fair Hermione?"

‡‡‡‡‡

She couldn't believe it. She almost fell off the chair. She had never, ever, heard Draco Malfoy refer to her by her first name. And why was he still pleading his innocence? The verdict of the court had been delivered ages ago, but Draco was still doing his best to convince her otherwise.

"But you didn't get sentenced to Azkaban Draco, you've got a chance to improve yourself with this public service duty," she explained slowly. "And this was not just about signing papers. It was all too clear who you supported during the war," she added patiently.

"Well, however I'm to be perceived by others, I did what I had to do. My family expected it of me," Draco said slowly.

There was a lack of expression in his face. There he sat, calmly, and the grey eyes cut straight to hers. Was it arrogance or total self-assurance with Draco. She couldn't tell. For some reason, he was trying to convince her of his innocence. Why, she wondered.

"Well, that's all behind us now, and what I think doesn't really matter," she declared and Draco frowned. "This is all that matters right now," she added and lifted the performance report to demonstrate.

"And just exactly how is all of this supposed to matter – me in a clown suit – how does this matter?"

"You mean the conductor's uniform?" she asked and dropped the back on the desk.

"Yes, it's ridiculous."

"I suppose it is," she said grinning at the image he had conjured. "But it goes with the job. It's not too likely you'll run into anyone you know on the Knight bus."

"And how is this punishment designed to help? This public humiliation," he retorted.

"It's not intended as punishment or humiliation. It's correction and you're not going to see the light of this overnight. It may take some time, but this work assignment could provide useful experience in the future – if you let it. But if you retain this negative attitude then nothing will come of it. That's for sure," she said firmly.

This was more than she had ever said to Draco Malfoy in her life. Up to this point, all they had exchanged were verbal insults or jinxes from the ends of their wands. And now she was talking to him like a professional counselor. He didn't answer, but sat there, bold as brass with an upright posture and never wavering. A sliver of blonde hair had fallen and was conspicuously bisecting a grey eye. She wished he would swipe it away, but he didn't.

"You really believe that huh? Have you always been this way Granger or has the Ministry put all this in your head?" he asked sullenly.

"We're not here to talk about me," she added and he finally cracked a smile.

"Okay, you've caught me there, but it's a little easier to talk if it's a two-way conversation."

Hermione smiled the narrowest of smiles. Was that what he wanted? To simply engage in conversation? It was obvious he didn't want to talk about the work assignment. He was perfectly happy to talk about anything but work. It would be best to stick to business and not let him draw her off-guard with more catty questions.

"Can you do this work Draco? Would one of the other jobs be more attractive? Until you get used to the idea of work that is?"

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Can you do this job or not? I need to know?" she asked, firmly.

"Yeah, I think so," he answered with a disinterested gaze.

"Well then, be back here in two weeks. Cynthia should be back by then," she said and stood up to signal the meeting was over. He quickly followed her lead, slowly rising from the stiff wooden chair.

"Okay, sure... two weeks."

"Now, are there any other questions?" she asked, raising her brow.

‡‡‡‡‡

"Yeah, I got a couple," he asked and she returned a quizzical expression. "What about Weasley? Do I have to suffer his abuse as well?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. Will I have to deal with him every time I come in here?"

She appeared caught off guard by this. He didn't care for the cramped office or the hard wooden chair and he especially didn't care to confront Weasley every two weeks. They were several steps outside her office as she paused and wriggled her nose to ponder the question.

"I suppose we could meet in the canteen. Would that be neutral ground?" she asked with a smile that was merely a professional courtesy.

"Sure. That should work," and he nodded approvingly.

"Well, then stop by the courier's desk in the Atrium and send a note when you arrive. I'll meet you in the canteen with Cynthia." She began to turn away and then stopped.

"Oh, and what's the other question?"

"Why the robes Granger? I mean, we've been out of school for years now."

She glared back harshly drawing her eyes into slits. "With some positions at the Ministry they're customary," she barked and exhaled with disgust for having addressed the question. "And don't forget the note!"

She spun on one high heel and headed back to her office. The robes lifted a bit to show a really fit calf and narrow ankles in dark blue hosiery. Damn the baggy robes. He couldn't help but wonder how she would look properly dressed.

"Okay. I'll send the note," he said through a laugh as she walked away. Maybe properly undressed was what he really meant.

AN: A lot of plot positioning and character development in this chapter. Things will spin up! Thanks for reading...

Oops almost forgot Cynthia - added her back in the end of the chapter and some cleanup...