A/N- No Draco/Hermione interaction in this chapter... but it's got plenty of plot development to make up for it. I also wanted to expand the roles of several characters that will be important later in the story.
As always, thanks for the reviews!
Chapter Sixteen
While Draco Malfoy was admiring Hermione Granger, and Blaise Zabini was flirting aimlessly with Lucinda Anderson, and Sasha Bradely was drinking from her flask, a plan was being put together by two people in a pub more than a thousand miles away.
"Muggles," The man spat out, tossing the beer bottle away from him in disgust, "This drink tastes like monkey piss,"
The woman, face hidden by a dark cloak, cackled wildly. The sound was lost in the loud shouts coming from the fight by the bar. The pub was grimy and moldy, the sort of place one might stumble upon while already drunk at one in the morning. The pub held all sorts of people; those who did not want to be seen, those who wanted desperately to drown their troubles, those looking for a good time, prostitutes, the homeless, and everybody in between. It was tucked away in between a hardware store and a bankrupt bookshop. The sign was missing so many letters that the name was forgotten. When thought about, it was actually quite sad.
"And how would you know what that tastes like?" The woman picked up the bottle, taking a sniff at it, "It smells god-awful too. How do these animals cope?"
A drunkard passed the table, stumbling into the wall before sliding to the floor. He proceeded to lean over and vomit profusely.
The man glared down at the man on the ground like he'd been personally wronged by him. Pushing his hair from his shoulders with a hand in a regal fashion, the man sitting's lip curled, "Vile,"
"Can't I torture him just this once? I won't kill him, I promise!" The woman begged crazily, reaching for her company's hand. Jerking backwards, the hands were tucked under the table neatly, preventing her from touching them.
"No, Bella, you cannot. We agreed to keep a low profile, or has that slipped your mind as well?"
The woman, Bella, narrowed her eyes and pouted like a child, "You are acting ridiculous. Everything has been put into play—"
"Not just yet," The man interrupted coldly, "We still have much to do until our goal has been reached. But, seeing as we are ahead of schedule, I've gotten you a play thing. Come with me,"
Without a word they turned and ascended the stairs to the rooms above the pub, which were available for those who needed a place to sleep for a night or two. The man stopped at the one at the far end of the hall, causing the woman to slam into his back. Pulling out a key, the door swung open.
Cowering in the corner was a young woman with deep brown hair and a dazed expression on her face. She was glancing about nervously, arms wrapped around her thin torso. Upon seeing the man and woman in the doorframe she shifted further into the wall, as if she wished they would swallow her whole.
"P-please d-don't hurt m-me…" She positively trembled. The woman laughed, brandishing a thin stick from inside her black cloak.
The door shut with a soft click.
Whispering something unintelligible the woman removed her hood, releasing her mess of black hair. Her high heels clicked sharply on the floorboards. The man leant against the wall, the ghost of a smirk making its way onto his face.
"We're going to have so much fun, aren't we?" The woman whispered, dropping to her knees and grabbing the girl's chin roughly. She stood, pointing the stick at the girl.
"Crucio,"
X
Lindsey stood in front of Evan's office, nervously twirling a strand of her hair. She needed to make amends with the British man and (hopefully) get a second chance. She'd talked with her friend Kendra the previous evening and she'd confessed that she thought Evan was unforgiving and cold. However Lindsey saw something inside of him, something deeper. She wanted to apologize for her flakey behavior and explain herself.
Knocking on the door, Lindsey opened it without waiting for an answer.
Evan was sitting behind his desk, reading something with a frown on his face. The desk across the room was empty.
Perfect.
Evan glanced up, raising an eyebrow when he noticed her standing there. His face remained unmoving, revealing no emotion.
"Hey," Lindsey spoke tentatively, moving cloer to Evan's desk. His grey eyes pierced hers, and she almost melted into a puddle of Lindsey-stew. Why were the most attractive men always the ones she managed to screw up on?
"Hello," He responded, reaching for the book again.
"I wanted to talk to you,"
The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them. Evan raised an eyebrow.
"What about?"
How is he so calm? It's not humanly possible to remain that stoic, that uncaring!
The young woman took a deep, steadying breath, "About our date," Beat, "And why I didn't show up,"
Evan turned and shifted through some papers lying on his desk, ignoring her. Lindsey felt foolish, coming here to speak to him. He was obviously busy and didn't want to speak with her. However, she couldn't help but feel hopeful when he opened his mouth to speak.
"I never said you couldn't tell me,"
Just like that. Simple. Eloquent. Somewhat cold, but also, oddly… warm.
Without taking her eyes off Evan, who was looking up at her with an intense expression on his face, Lindsey recalled, "After I got home that day we had our discussion, my mother called," Stop, don't you dare cry, Lindsey… "She… she said that… that… that my Grandmother, who had been terminally ill with lung cancer… had passed on…"
Evan still hadn't moved.
"I just wanted to apologize for not coming to the date… my Grandma and I were really close…"
And then Evan, distant, handsome Evan, stood. He didn't touch her, just stared down into her eyes. There was a long moment in which she thought that he wasn't breathing at all, but he cracked a small, sympathetic smile just for her.
"I understand,"
X
"Benjamin,"
Ben Anderson grimaced at the surprised woman in the doorframe. He shuffled his feet, trying to shake off her inquisitive look. His intentions were quite clear, as a suitcase was in one hand and a manila folder packed full of papers in the other. Madam Quincie raised an eyebrow at him, which only caused more wrinkles to form in her forehead.
"I see you've repainted the sign. It looks good,"
Madam Quincie crossed her arms, not that it made a difference in her stature. She was still petite, elderly and frail; the complete opposite of intimidating.
"Lucy doesn't want to see you," She stated blandly, leaning against the white-washed door molding, "So I suggest you high tail your way outta' here, and I don't have to mention this visit to her,"
Benjamin nodded slowly, fury bubbling up inside him like boiling-hot water, "I thought she wanted a divorce,"
"I do,"
And there she was, glaring at him from across the flowerbeds. Her blonde hair was tied up into a high ponytail, her skin kissed by the sun, her eyes shining up from her face like pieces of the sky trapped beneath the dark lashes. Unfortunately, she was positively glowering at him.
"Lucy, I didn't know you were out here—" Madam Quincie spoke up, sounding nervous and apologetic.
Lucy turned to the older woman, smiling in a way that made her, in actuality, look very nasty, "It's all right, I understand. I wouldn't want this bastard on my property either, if I were you—"
"Mummy says that's a bad woooooord," Came the sing-songy voice that can only belong to a child. There, on the porch swing, was a small blonde child. He was a bit on the skinny side, with knobby knees and awkward, fresh-out-of-the-toddler-stage features. He was frowning at Lucy, who had the decency to flush a light pink color.
"Orion, honey, why don't you go inside?" Madam Quincie suggested, moving away from the door so the boy could go in. He didn't, choosing to stick up his nose in defiance.
"You're a meanie,"
"That's lovely dear, now if you would please go inside…" Madam Quincie said lightly, challenging the child. Begrudgingly he stood, storming into the house.
Before the door was shut, however, there was a loud shout of, "My daddy will hear about this!"
X
"Malfoy,"
"ACCCCCCCCCCCKKKK!" Draco screamed, his head shooting straight up. Sasha, who was sitting in her chair across the room, shot him an odd glance before returning to her work. The wizard rolled his shoulders back, attempting to get the kink out of his neck by moving his head back and forth. His dreams had gotten stranger and stranger, and no matter what he was going to get to the bottom of them.
But for now, there's paperwork to be done.
Draco sighed, reaching for his pen. The one thing he couldn't get out of his head was the sound of that voice saying his name softly, gently, teasing but tender. It was unnerving, disturbing, all-out odd. Because it was no random tone, no it was someone he knew, it was a familiar sound to his subconscious.
That was the weirdest part. He didn't trust anyone to tell of his past, no women from town at least. And, thank Merlin, the voice didn't not belong to Pansy Parkinson.
So whose voice is it?
Deciding to think on it later, Draco pulled the stack of papers closer, settling in for another long afternoon of filing.