xi: Life Is Always Hard For the Belle of The Boulevard
Don't turn away
Dry your eyes, dry your eyes
Don't be afraid.
Keep it all inside, all inside
When you fall apart,
Dry your eyes, dry your eyes.
Life is always hard for the belle of the boulevard.
In all your silver rings
And all your silken things
That song you softly sing – is keeping you from breaking
It's a long way down
It's a long way
Back here you never loved
You've shaked the shivers off
You take a drink to get your courage up
Can you believe it
Just this once
Just for now
And just like that
It's over.
It's been four days, six hours and twenty seven minutes – approximately – since his meeting with Scorpius when his phone rings. Intrusive to his thoughts and current work, Draco glares at it for a moment before sighing. His phone has been ringing non-stop lately, mostly on account of his newfound energy in the business. He's been in several meetings with Blaise, shareholders and muggles of interest regarding the promise of the company and possibilities abroad.
He's not above conceding that he had dismissed the idea too easily, made largely unfounded assumptions and worked from there. Now, he's ready to be the father he needs to be. He's going to be the father Scorpius needs him to be. That means repairing relationships, putting passion into his work again and finding his way a little. It's not easy, it's never been easy, but at least now he has something worth trying for.
The phone rings again. Putting his quill down with annoyance, Draco picks it up, "Draco Malfoy."
Silence. Seconds pass.
One..
…Two…
"D—Draco?"
Everything seems to still around him, any irritation evaporating as quick as happiness on a Monday morning. He thinks about his response carefully, but swiftly all the while, "Speaking. Can I help you with something?"
"It's me – it's Belle. I—I'm sorry about the other night, and I haven't been able to think about anything but you – it – as in the conversation, since you left. I was wrong, so wrong, but… but you have to understand how hard this is for me. You have to understand what this is."
Draco leans back in his chair, a ghost of a smile skirting across his face, "I'm glad you called. Business is my pleasure. You won't be mentioned or involved in any way, I just need your help with names and general information. Meet me at the bar tonight?"
He can almost hear her hesitate, but then she's promising to meet him there and promptly arranging the meeting for 10 p.m. The call is over before he can blink, and Draco holds it away from his ear for a minute, wondering if he had imagined the entire conversation.
Part of him had always believed she would come to him eventually, but there had been a very big part of him – the cynical side – which said he had to do this alone. He's not ashamed to say he's glad to be getting help, to have someone by his side in this. It's been so long since he felt like someone was on his side, and furthermore, since he felt like someone understood.
He thinks that's what has always attracted him to Belle. Whether it's true or not, he's always felt like she understood. In a world which has been so dark and solitary for him of late, seeing her made him realise he wasn't the only one feeling like that. Nor would he ever be.
Shaking these nonsensical thoughts out of his head, Draco recollects himself just in time to hear Blaise approach his door. Knocking has never been his forte, and so he strolls into Draco's office nonchalantly.
Taking a seat opposite the blond, Blaise raises a brow, "Monica tells me you're on board for the international proposal."
He rolls his eyes, tilting back in his chair and crossing one leg over the other, "She's so fond of talking, isn't she?"
Blaise grins, "I know. Tells me everything! So? Can I get some confirmation?"
"Well, since our meetings, I've been thinking about it really seriously…" Blaise leans forward in anticipation, causing Draco to almost laugh at him, "And I think it's got a lot of promise."
The other man makes a celebratory cheer, then turns his attention back to Draco, "I knew you'd come around to my brilliant ways eventually! It just took a bit of time. Too much, if you ask me, but you were never an easy person to deal with."
He doesn't reply. Of course, Blaise doesn't need him to, he blazes on with his tirade regardless, "Now, we just need someone to set up the offices abroad. We can hire someone internally or externally for that – we'll need to create a whole new team for this. One of us will need to head it, of course…"
Draco fails to reply again. Blaise continues.
He's learned that Belle never fully confirms to schedule, never entirely sticks to script or the norm and he supposes it's the only freedom she gets. He can't imagine her husband is all that forgiving, understanding or relenting, which makes him more forgiving of her lack of punctuality. Lack of punctuality is usually a trait that causes Draco to quickly brand someone useless, but in this instance, he makes an exception.
She strolls in in all her glory, twenty minutes late, and winks at the barman. They're on great terms, exchanging jokes and jibes as he retrieves her drink. It appears she orders one for him, too, because she carries back a second drink. Either that, or she's had a long day, Draco thinks wryly.
Belle fails to place the drink in front of him, and he shoots her a questioning glance. In response, she downs the first drink, and wipes at her mouth gracelessly. "Let's do this."
He nods, "I'm all business. In order to do this, I just need the name of the guy who was harassing you the first night we met. Do—do you remember that?" Part of him thinks he'll be disappointed if she doesn't, and the other part of him immediately criticises himself for that thought. Maybe he's the bipolar one between the two of them.
She draws back his attention with a small chuckle, "Of course I do. Not every day the moody and elusive Draco Malfoy saves you! In any case, his name is Tom Bowie. He's a squib, pretty bitter about the whole magic thing, destroys it from the inside with drugs. He's a bit short-sighted, you know."
He makes a small noise to indicate he's heard, but his mind is working in overdrive, "And my father?"
"Your father supplies the essential connections. Being a squib of a relatively little-known family, Bowie knows no one. Lucius sets up the meetings, sometimes conducts them entirely on his own. Some of us, the more lucid addicts, have theories that Lucius will kill Bowie and take over…"
The news doesn't surprise him, Lucius has never been hesitant about his kills. Not in Draco's memory at least – always swift, thoughtless and callous with human life. Whether it be death or close to, he was merciless. His own son could testify to that.
The best part of this whole fiasco was that Draco would be considered a rather credible witness – news of their disastrous relationship never broke. To the world, Draco and Lucius Malfoy got on fantastically. Narcissa always feared bad publicity, always fretted over their image after (and prior to) the war; she would never let on that they weren't in a state any less than blissful freedom. Of course, he had already blemished that with his divorce from Astoria..
"Draco? Draco, are you alright?" He shakes his head abruptly, eyes snapping to hers. He wonders if he's ever heard her say his name – it certainly feels like the first time. Draco's startled to find that he likes the way she says his name, with a lilting accent and a soft, sensuous intonation.
He doesn't even know what he means anymore. He's going insane.
"I'm fine.. Anyway, I haven't fully constructed my plan yet. I don't want any part in the physical takedown of my father, I only plan on presenting enough evidence to the Ministry that they can accuse him and eventually send him to Azkaban for it. He wouldn't deserve any less." The words are nonchalant, him appearing unaffected by the whole thing.
She's silent. Then, "Are you sure you're okay?"
"My father and I have a tumultuous relationship," He throws back after some hesitance, "I wouldn't expect you to understand."
"I can't say I do. I have an idea though – my parents won't speak to me because of my husband."
He's mildly surprised, but doesn't comment. It was rather foolish of him to assume so much about her – hell, she's out here most nights and caked out of her head on the other nights, she must be messed up. All her problems can't possibly be traced the husband, something had to lead her there. Right?
He doesn't necessarily care. They still understand each other.
"That's shitty." He replies honestly, uncharacteristically even.
"Yeah." He drains the last of his drink, finally noticing her attire as he does so. She dons her usual glam, a short purple dress, tight against her shapely figure and accentuating the curves she has. Her face is average, but her body is a solid eight, he thinks absently. It's not long after that he admonishes himself for these thoughts. She's a married drug addict, after all.
Impulsively, the next words rush out of his mouth, proving that the five "preparation" drinks had been unnecessary, "Why do you dress so provocatively all the time? For these cheap leers here?"
Belle's startled, surprised at his directness, and stumbles over her words. She draws her arms across her chest absently, and lowers her eyes, "I—I don't… I'm not…"
She trails off, looking back up to his eyes. He doesn't need her to say anymore, he doesn't need a further explanation. When he thinks about it, her very actions, words and posture every night are enough of an answer to him. There was never a need for the question.
"Do you need my help beyond this?"
"I think so. At least help me with a plan, and then we'll see if you're needed beyond that. You able for that?"
She tells him of course, and they begin brainstorming at once. He's surprised she has a semblance of intelligence, but then again, he's not really. He doesn't think about that though. Draco's overriding worry is whether he wants her to stay so they can plan, or so he can spend more time with her.
By the end of the night, he still hasn't decided.
The following evening, the two sleuths carry out their intended plan. He's finding it easier to spend time in her presence without being irritated by the ditzy-ness, the insecurities and utter insanity. Overlooking those, she could be quite a normal and entertaining companion. He sometimes wonders why her husband doesn't value her.
Currently, they wait in an abandoned shop on the south end of Knockturn Alley. It's notorious for being shady, but according to Belle, the drug market has got a stamp on this area. He finds it strange that it has all been going on so close to home, and so seamlessly. He feels like someone should have noticed. Sure, there had been more frequent reports of drug-like effects on people in newspaper, but it had always been understated. The media rarely understates anything – Draco hadn't bothered to question it.
Now, he curses himself for it. He could have saved himself a lot of time – then again, he's not an auror. They rejected him. Because of this man. Something inside of him screams this, sparking the required anger and maintaining the level of motivation required.
"I think I can hear them.." Belle whispers to him, wedged into the tattered couch next to him. The place is dilapidated, but very clearly in use. Couches are worn, but show recent tears and stains, and fresh newspapers litter the ground. Dust coats only the shelves that align the right wall, most of them empty, but some proudly displaying anything ranging from skulls to stuffed snakes.
He's beginning to see why some people consider Slytherin creepy.
The door is thrown open carelessly, causing it to clatter against the wall behind it, the sound reverberating throughout the room. Draco, under the guise of a polyjuice potion (ghastly thing), winces at the sound. He and Belle simultaneously stand, her taking one step in front of him to greet her dealer.
Tom Bowie stands tall, as menacing and threatening as the first night he met him, and blatantly sizes Draco up. He currently looks like his pest of an assistant, with curly, black hair and thick, angled eyebrows. Tall, but wiry, he appears no match for the other man.
"Tom, this is Jack… He's looking for some hard stuff. He's from Ireland, has had experience and knows the deal. He's a half-blood, too. He's seen the real muggle stuff…" she says this ever so quietly, away from Draco's ears, but he knows exactly what she is scripted to say.
"The real muggle stuff, eh?" He snorts, "Muggles are dumb. They think they know it all."
He refrains from pointing out that of course they do – they don't know wizards exist! Draco approaches him then, hand extended, "I don't see why I can't be polite. I'm Jack, and I want to keep a little deal going on between us."
Just then, the answers to Draco's plans walks through the door. Cliché to the core, his long, black cloak billows around him and his face is fixed in a snotty sneer. Long, tatty blond hair hangs on either side of his taunt and pale face, leaving Draco to wonder how long it has been since they saw each other.
While he's glad the man is here, Draco feels an odd pang of remorse. This is his father, and he looks positively wretched. He's been on the drugs himself, obviously. What's he been through? How did he get into this? His glorious hair that he was so proud of is drained of life, his skin that he took such immaculate care of is aged and cracked. His posture and expression is as pompous as always, but there's no spirit to this man. There's no fire, no passion – and Draco knows for a fact now that he is still capable of these emotions, still a functioning human being.
This person – this person isn't his father. This person isn't the man who made his life hell, who never once apologised and generally was an asshole to him. This person is so detached from reality, from life and what it was, that Draco can't connect them.
"Heavens sake, Bowie, you stupid oaf." Lucius abruptly flicks his wand over Draco, searching for signs of a beauty spell. Finding none, he rolls his eyes, "Oh, I forgot, you're a squib and need me for these things. How you managed to run this for so long is beyond me."
Tom growls a little, raising his fist. He thinks better of it then, and clears his throat, "Belle brought him in. Says he's a long-term banker."
Lucius' gaze falls on the woman, leering unabashedly. Draco suddenly feels alarmingly uncomfortable as he fights the feeling that they've shared a bed. "Is that true, Belle, dear?"
"Back off, Malfoy. This one is mine." Tom snaps, pulling Belle to his side roughly. She obliges silently, and he wonders if this is what her life is like – one dominating, rough man to the next.
Relief floods him upon realisation that his father and Belle have yet to have intimate exchanges. The feeling his fleeting, because then his father is staring him down intently. Before he says anything though, Tom is hit with some sort of hex that has been moaning in pain for a few moments. He'd been vaguely aware his father could perform silent magic, but not to that extent.
He spits at the bigger man, "I don't know who Malfoy is."
Finally, she finds her voice, "Lucius?"
"What?" He snaps, but then his voice softens, "Can I do something for you, Belle? Maybe something that Tom can't perform very well? Besides magic, of course."
"I—I just want you to sort out my friend… for now." The implication is clear, and the other man reacts with a smirk. In reality, as soon as he gets rid of Tom, he'll take Belle regardless of her stance on it or in society.
From there, the exchange is rather uneventful. Truth be told, he remembers very little; everything becomes a blur. His thoughts are unfocused, flying from Belle, to Tom, to his father. He can't stop analysing this new character, comparing him to the one he knew and coming to conclusions. No one can deny that Lucius has lost a few cents in the last few years, but now – now he wonders if the man will even go to Azkaban.
Would his suicide or arrest kill his mother, Narcissa?
Draco decides that he will let the Ministry decide his fate again. He'll give them the drugs he bought, the muggle tape with Lucius answering to his name and Tom mentioning his surname – and he'll hope it's enough.
He'll walk away and clean his hands. Does it make him feel better? Has revenge been dealt? Is he vindicated?
Draco expects all this. In the end, he only feels tired. Empty and tired.
But for the first time since he met with Scorpius, he kept his final promise: Draco slept in a hotel, in a real bed, and he hasn't slept better in three years. He knows what he needs to do now.
A/N: Second-last chapter, will update tomorrow. I know there are a lot of questions, etc which I will address at the end :) The song the start is by "Dashboard Confessional" and is a great one. The title of the song comes from it, and a lot of Belle's character is based on it. Anyway, ergo, I do not own it .. or HP.
I hope you enjoyed that. Reviews would be great!
Cheers,
CN.