Disclaimer: I do own the characters, they belong to J.K. Rowling. Also, the plot and dialogues are not mine either, they belong to Hajin Yoo.
So very very very very sorry for the late update! I've still got a year and a half of school so ... forgive me! =(
Thanks for the reviews! Do the enjoy my update! x
Chapter 3.
Should I just run away?
'… or be buried in it' the malice words from the boss linger into Harry's mind uninvitingly, pushing away all of the doubts and dark reveries in Harry's brain. 'Of course I'll do it!' he says loudly at himself, hoping it could ease his nerves. It doesn't.
The next morning, Harry receives his first errand. Stopping abruptly, Harry rechecks the address written on a piece of paper in his grasp. Then he looks up at the building. Then he stares down at the parchment again. Then he checks the street's name; seems like he isn't lost.
A horizontal sign reading 'Knockturn Metals' is displaying on the top of the small building. The whole construction screams out raggedy; multiple cracks of cements on the walls fears Harry that it might collapse at any contact; the doors are shades of copper-like color even thought the real material is glass; the unstable and flaccid walls seems like it couldn't bear any weight of the sign any longer.
'How's a place like this is owes 320,000 pound?' Harry wonders aloud.
Slowly pacing, Harry stares worriedly at the front door. It is covered with dust and other substances but Harry pass in mentioning them. 'Excuse me' he says as he slide the door open to the right. Two 40 years old men turn when he made his presence known.
Harry scratches the back of his head, unsure of where to begin. 'Er … I'm from Slytherin Credit Union …' The immediate response could be clearly be detected with the remarkable drop of the atmosphere along with the shock and urgent fear in the eyes of the men's eyes. Harry keeps his hand on the back of his head, finding it totally odd and a little amusing that the two men jump slightly backwards when he starts to pace forward towards them.
The man with a cap on his head, some grey hair appearing at the sides with over-sized shades that completely blocks his eyes; even the white pupils are hard to notice behind the lenses steps forward. 'I'm so sorry, sir!' he exclaims loudly, as though Harry is a mile away instead of just in front of him. The momentum of the shout shocks Harry that a step backward is necessary.
The shaded man bows to him, neglecting the obvious age difference. 'We meant to pay whatever it took, but as you can see, we're not doing too well' he says, all the while, refusing to meet Harry's eye and maintaining his bowed down posture. 'We haven't made any sales, so we don't even have any cash and, I've only be able to feed my kids cod fish for past few months' To Harry's horror, sniffles is coming from the man and his eyes are pooling.
Harry is, being the affectionate person that he is, touched by the man's complicated position; his kids are poor students who have only eaten cod fish for the past half year. Already knowing what the same situation is like, Harry couldn't help but feel sorry for the man in front of him.
'If you just wait until the end of this month, I promise to pay back even if I have to sell my shop and house' he says faithfully, bowing his tear-stained face down. Being bowed down as though a superior is slightly creeping Harry out. 'Please be patient just a little longer' he adds.
Harry looks down morosely at the old man.
But the image of Draco's penetrating grey eyes poisons Harry's thoughts. What's worse about this image is that Draco appears to have sharp long nails like Freddy Krueger, repeating his words 'Do you want to leave town?' Harry's head spun with fear at the notion.
'Please' the man insists.
'Or be buried in it?' Draco's face is more clearly in this illustration; the ruthless and cold-blooded countenance sends tingles down Harry's spine. 'Have mercy on us!' the voice of the old man pleads, looking up at Harry's face hopefully.
Harry gives a weary sigh; he hates himself for this. 'That'll be fine'
The face of the old man instantly bright up, a big smile on his lips. 'Thank you, sir! Thank you!' he shouts again, bowing his body yet again.
'Please pay by the end of this month' Harry says dryly.
'Of course, sir! You bet I will!' the old man promises. For Harry's understanding nature, the old even offers him to have dinner with them. The poor condition that Harry has live throughout his life, he learns to never pass free food or etc. Harry leaves 'Knockturn Metals' with a proud smile.
The satisfaction you receive after helping others can't be put into words.
The dark aura surrounding the boss seems to be scarier compares to apocalypse if it decides to come early. The disapproving and censorious growl emit by Draco from the back of his throat makes Harry cringe inwards at the news he is about to report.
Although the consequences do scare me.
'Things didn't go as planned, boss' Harry mutters apprehensively, his body visibly trembling.
'Tsk tsk, he got you' Draco says, shaking his head and lighting his cigarette, 'I knew you'd fall for his lies' Harry is offended though refuse to speak up. 'Have it your way' Draco inhales and draws out smoke while twirling the cigarette stick between his fingers expertly 'As long as I can personally bury you'
Harry's jaw drops to the floor.
The end of the month.
'I'm sorry sir! Please, give us one more week!' the old man bows at Harry, who is not too excited to report back.
'Greg, go find a good burial spot. Some trash dump will do nicely' Draco says casually to his worker, his hand supporting his head on the table. Harry gives a big gulp as it passes through his trachea with difficulty.
A week later.
'Please! Give us two more weeks!' Harry lifts one of his legs up, gripping his sling bag tightly when the old man shockingly begins to grovel and plead on the floor. 'Otherwise, my family will have no choice but to commit a family suicide!'
'Blaise, have a casket made' Draco drawls nonchalantly, once again illuminating his cigarette stick. Trepidation and fear stops Harry at his tracks when Draco's words finally settle in his brain. He has to refrain himself from biting his already-chewed fingernails profusely as the anxiety fills him.
Running between school, tests, essays, Harry's energy seems to be drained out little by little. Since the maintenance of his grades is crucial, he has to put a big amount of effort into them. To add to the burden, chores around the office still need to be taken care of and Harry could never imagine the guys, let alone Draco Malfoy, picking up a broomstick. Lastly, the collecting business still needs to be redeemed but the disappointing answer is still present every time Harry swings by.
All of these errands are making Harry's head going crazy.
Harry just finished reporting back to the boss with the same answer he gave the first time and Draco's remark is still the relevant subject of Harry's death. Harry got use to the comments but it didn't make Harry's apprehension any less present.
'Idiot!' Neville speaks up when he sees Harry. 'I see you're still as gullible as ever. Can't you see? The guy's a freakin' con artist!' he says, keeping his voice slightly louder than his usual one. 'He's just refusing to pay, even though he has money. He's just been acting poor all this time-' but Harry just passes him without even a glance at Neville. Mutters of coffins and trash dumps coming from Harry's lips confuse Neville immensely. 'Idiot' Neville scoffs at no one in particular, 'You're such an idiot' Neville watches Harry's back until it isn't within his sight range anymore.
Harry draws out a long and heavy sigh as he stops in front of the decapitated building that has become a far too familiar sight to his liking. His mind is on the verge of malfunctioning as his energy to withstand Draco's wishes upon his death depletes away gradually. The only that keeps him bordering to insanity is his welfare if he fails to collect the money, which is delaying for almost three months now. To make it worse, Draco almost seems giddy when Harry's demise is conversed.
'I'm telling you, it's a round a billion pound! A billion!' Harry's hand stops in mid-air just when he is about to slide the door open for the countless time. The voice, with no doubt, belongs to the old man, only the usual pleading and begging for mercy tone that Harry has grown accustom and wary of is replaced with a boastful and conceited one.
'Ten years ago, I designated my wife and even my in-laws and distant relatives as my beneficiaries. All I have to do is to declare bankruptcy and I'm all set!' The old man's bigheaded laugh shocks Harry to the core.
'You're just … what if those people flat-out deny any legal responsibility?' another voice asks, which Harry recalls is the other man from the first encounter. 'They won't have the balls!' the old man replies haughtily, huffing an arrogant breath. 'See? Even the "scary" mafia can't touch me'
Realization dawns in Harry along with the addition of fury; the begging and pleading next to the dinner invitation are tactics to butter him up and they're all full of lies!
'It's not that they can't touch you. They're just feeling sorry for your ass' remarks the other person.
'Don't you realize even the toughest goon instinctively won't harm those who grovel and beg for mercy?' the laugh is more significantly uncontrolled this time, which boils up Harry's rage more and more. 'Anyway, I was saved because they sent an idiot this time' the sound of cracks is heard as Harry's temper nears its limit, making his fist clench tightly with his nails digging into his palm. 'As soon as I-'
Harry literally shoves the slide door open with all the enraged force he is trying to not lose control of; the door produces a loud bang of collision between metal and cement as it clashes the wall upon Harry's strength. The shock evident on the men's faces comes nowhere near the degree of Harry's livid expression, his teeth grounds together. 'You got three days to settle your assets. If you don't come up with 353,240,000 pound and deliver it to the office by that time' the two green pools are full of ferocity as Harry's defiant stare pierce through them like knives 'you can plead for mercy from the inside of a coffin'
A sharp thud generates from the impact of Harry's palms colliding on the surface of Draco Malfoy's desk. 'You'll have your money in three days, boss' Harry articulates promisingly, his voice still seethes of the anger he had to contain when walking all the way back to the office. Draco looks up indifferently, raising one of his eyebrows.
Damn! How dare they! Those bastards were going to let me take a fall for them then laugh about it behind my back!
Harry walks with his stomps that shake the earth soil beneath; his hands curl into tight fists that are definitely leaving marks on his palms; his face blushes a strong shade of red with his lips curls into a scowl.
I'll show you exactly how dangerous this 'idiot' can be!
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