PART TWO
of
No Church in the Wild
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Jumper
Draco guided the razor carefully over the last few patches of shaving cream, down the side of his neck, trying not to notice the ugly scars… the runes… he remembered Hermione Granger had called them years ago, as the blade passed over them.
He clinked the razor on the side of sink, globs falling, glancing up at his reflection in the mirror. Good enough. Would have been better if he could just use magic for this, but no. He was only allowed to use magic for basically house defenses and locks. "Mustn't let me use magic for anything as dangerous as shaving!" he muttered sarcastically to himself as he used a small rag to wipe down his face and neck.
Satisfied, he turned, grabbing his red work shirt hanging on the back of the door, pulling it on over his ruined chest and back, always grateful to hide Voldemort's handiwork. He smoothed out the obvious wrinkles the best he could as he left the bathroom. He adjusted the black slacks he wore, pulling them higher up on his hips before tightening a belt.
He fetched his grandfather's pocket-watch from an end table as he passed, glancing at its face to verify he wasn't running late. He clipped it carefully to his shirt front before snatching up his red based baller cap, Marlee's scrawled in white fancy lettering on the front. Based ball was a muggle sport, he'd learned, but apparently they wear the same type of hats for work as well. It baffled him.
At the front door he quickly swapped his dirty house slippers for brown oxfords that could definitely use a good polish or two but found he couldn't gather up the energy to care enough to do the polishing. He glanced back towards his reflection on the decorative mirror behind him, hoping he looked somewhat presentable.
Besides the wrinkled shirt he looked fine he supposed- he blinked, narrowing his eyes. A pale face. For just a brief moment… by his shoulder? Draco went up to the mirror, touched it carefully. Perhaps it was enchanted by a long lost relative, ready to give terrible, unwanted advice about his fashion choices?
He dropped his hand. Hmm. Seemed normal and un-enchanted to him. He couldn't remember it ever having spoken to him before.
Weird. Maybe it was the lingering effects of the Fire Whiskey.
He glanced at his pocket watch again. Not much time left to get to his Ministry-approved port key. But he had one more task.
He quickly limped into an adjoining room, crouching by the fireplace. He placed a finger on the brick three slots from the center, two slots down. It immediately shifted, swirling to the side to reveal a hidey-hole that contained a small satchel. He fetched it out, sliding it into his front pocket as he stood. The brick returned to its usual position.
No matter how many times the Ministry raided his home, he still managed to keep a few secrets to himself, he thought with grim satisfaction.
Draco left his manor, quickly doing the locks and defensive enchantments before limping down the front path. They'd allowed him to have a port-key to work once he'd kept his employment with the grocer's for three months. He'd been there for almost a year now, and having that port-key saved him a lot of time, and more importantly, from having to use the Knight Bus. It was a great convenience and definitely wasn't something he wanted to lose.
A dirty, brown mug sat in the darkening field ahead. He broke off from the path and without hesitation grasped the mug's handle, already braced for the inevitable nausea.
He stumbled slightly as he twisted back into existence, breathing out a sigh as he took in the familiar sights of the road outside Marlee's Grocery. The streetlights were just flickering on below.
Draco adjusted his based baller cap, heading down the hill and into work.
"What the hell's the matta' with you Draco?"
He straightened from his bent position, nearly dropping the can of peas he'd been about to put on the shelf.
"What?" he asked, trying to hide his annoyance at being startled.
The Muggle manager, Reggie, was walking towards him, a harried expression on his face over his white, bushy mustache. "You gotta tuck in your shirt! How many times I gotta tell ya'?"
Draco gave him a strained, apologetic, completely fake smile. He set the peas back on his stacked handcart, reached over his head to pull off the apron he had to wear, then used both hands to tuck in his shirt quickly. Can't get fired just yet… Can't get fired just yet… he said it in his head, over and over. He adjusted the shirt so it hung nice and neatly. "Good?"
"Well don't make me tell you again, kid," Reggie gruffed. "You stock pretty good and you're usually on time, but we take our appearance very serious here at Marlee's, even on night shift. I mean you know I almost didn't hire you cause of all those crazy tattoos… but I decided to give you a chance… don't make me regret it!"
It almost physically pained him but somehow he managed not to roll his eyes. "Right."
Reggie gave him another once over glance before finally turning away, heading down a different aisle to bother someone else, Draco supposed. He sighed, lifting the apron back over his head, redoing the ties, and getting back to work.
Peas. On shelf. Next. Mind-numbing. But quiet. And he usually worked the 'night shift' as Muggles called it so he didn't have to deal with many customers.
Most importantly, it would all be over soon.
With that cheery thought in mind, he rolled the cart over to the pasta section, filling up the rigatoni and stroganoffs.
"Excuse me, young man?"
Draco turned and saw a tiny old woman at the end of the aisle, looking up at him through thick-lens and bulbous glasses. She wore a befuddled expression as she pulled her pink scarf tighter over her shoulders. "Can you help me find something?"
Draco heaved a heavy, long-suffering sigh. "I don't know. What are you looking for?"
"I… I think they're called 'head fun'?"
Draco's brows drew together as he thought. Had he ever stocked any head fun? "What are they used for?" It might help him narrow down what aisle they were in.
"I don't know."
"Let me get someone for you." This wasn't the first time someone had come in asking for something that Draco had no idea what it was.
A couple aisles down, he found Lisa, a nice older woman who had helped him before. "Where do we keep head fun?"
"Wh…?" Lisa wiped her hands off on her apron, turning to look at him under the brim of her based baller cap. "What? Sorry, say it again?"
"Head fun?"
The little old granny had followed him over, and she nodded in agreement, "Yes, head fun."
Lisa glanced back and forth between them, mightily confused. She asked, "Do you mean headphones?" The way she said it made it seem like it was supremely obvious and something which they should both be aware of.
Draco and granny exchanged a look. Draco knew she must be a witch. And now granny was looking at him with knowing eyes as well. But did she know who he was?
"Yes, I meant headphones," the old woman finally answered, looking back to Lisa. "They're a gift for my mug- for my granddaughter."
"Well, we have some, but honestly they're pretty crappy. They're in our checkout lines. If you want something better I suggest ordering online."
Granny's stare couldn't be more blank.
"Or… or Best Buy?" Lisa suggested after a moment. "It's actually right down the street here, but I'm afraid it's already closed. It's almost ten right now, and they close at nine."
"Oh well thank you. I'll go there tomorrow!" Granny turned her attention back to Draco, who was already headed back to his abandoned handcart. Unfortunately, he could hear her hurried little steps as she followed along behind him. "Excuse me- excuse me!"
He stopped, turning back. His hackles were up now. "Yeah? What else?"
"Why are you working here?" she asked quietly, simply sounding curious, not accusing like he had expected.
He calmed down, just a little. "Something to fill the time."
"Quite odd. Very odd, indeed." She tapped a wrinkly old finger on her lips, looking up at him with consideration. "Well, did you hear the latest news about Harry Potter?"
Draco grit his teeth. He really did not want to be having this conversation. "Yeah. It's… it's shocking."
"Yes… and do you think that horrible Malfoy boy has something to do with it?"
All right, she definitely knew who he was. Draco blew out a huff of frustrated air, but otherwise didn't respond, returning to his cart.
She followed. There was a certain satisfaction in her expression at his reaction. "You did, didn't you!? I'm going to report where you are to the Ministry you know!"
He used his box cutter, slicing ferociously into the next cardboard box, taking his frustrations out on it. "You dumb hag," he hissed, "the Ministry knows exactly where I am!"
High points of color appeared on her cheeks. "Well I never! How dare you speak to me like-"
"How dare you! I'm at work! Get out of my face lady!"
With a shaking hand, she reached into the bag slung over her shoulder, producing her wand. "I-I'll take you in myself!"
He couldn't believe this. "They know where I live! Everyone knows where I live! Leave me alone!"
"I know you had something to do with this! It's all over the Daily Prophet you know!"
"Oh well if the Daily Prophet says it, it must be true!" he responded with dripping sarcasm. Draco's box cutter blade tore into the next box. He accidentally cut too deep and macaroni spilled everywhere. He watched it pour over the floor before briefly closing his eyes. He took a deep breath, trying his best to remain calm and collected. Can't get fired just yet… Voice lowered, tone even, he turned back to the old woman. "Listen to me, I had nothing to do with Potter, and I don't want to have this conversation… please leave me alone."
She stared at him, face pinched and angry. He wondered what he would do if she really did try to set a hex on him. He was not allowed to use any spells himself. Although, technically he was allowed to defend himself but… it would be a big mess.
Finally, thankfully, she stuffed her wand back into her bag. Draco let out a breath of relief he didn't know he'd been holding. Then granny continued with her shrill complaints: "I'm going to tell every one I know about this! You won't work here for long!"
"And I'm going to report you for harassment," he bit back dismissively.
"Unbelievable!" she sputtered as he turned away, scooping up loose macaroni. "You are horrid! Horrid!" When Draco continued to ignore her, her voice rose hysterically, "You know the Kiss of Death is what you deserve, just like your father is going to get!"
Draco paled. His hands clenched in tight fists of their own accord, the pasta within crunching loudly. He turned to face her, his expression a thunderstorm of anger. The old woman shrunk back fearfully as he towered over her. "Get out of here. Get out of here! NOW!"
Bag tucked tightly under her arm, she fled.
Draco stared after her. His heart was racing. His father only had a few weeks left... His last real family connection… How dare that ugly old crone say that to him? How dare she?!
"Are you okay Draco?"
He glanced over his shoulder and saw Lisa stood some feet behind him, watching with concern.
He needed out of here, he realized. He just… couldn't be here anymore. "No, I'm not."
Draco walked away, ignoring her confused calls, ignoring Reggie's demanding and angry shouts, he kept walking and did not stop, shedding the apron directly outside of Marlee's, leaving it crumpled on the sidewalk.
Hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders hunched, he hurried down the street, lugging his stupid lame leg at a faster clip than was really comfortable. The cold, biting wind on his face was a good distraction. Kept his thoughts on how cold he was rather than on the impending doom of his father.
Granny would be just the first of many with this new Harry Potter drama. Draco just knew it. He had done nothing wrong, his movements and whereabouts could be accounted for easily, and yet Potter's body-snatching was already being pinned on him by the general Wizarding public.
The unfairness of it all settled bitterly in his roiling gut. He knew he was wearing a most sour expression. He could feel people glancing curiously and suspiciously at him as he passed them under the street lights. But there was nothing to be done for it.
Draco felt for the satchel in his pocket, clenching it tightly in his fist. His one source of comfort at the moment. Now that he'd officially left his job, he knew this was his last opportunity to get his hands on what he needed… the Ministry would take his Portkey from him as soon as they heard the news and he would never have another shot to get to his Diagon Alley connection without them being aware.
So… Tonight. He adjusted the cap more firmly on his head. Had to be tonight.
Harry was dragged along helplessly along on Draco's determined journey down the cold street. If he stood still and let Draco go on ahead without him, it wouldn't take very long until he was forced to reappear by Draco's side. Eventually he decided it was just better to keep pace with the other boy… man. Definitely a man now. Four years had passed, and it showed. Draco, who had always been a little taller than Harry himself, was now Ron-height. He was filled out, not as lanky as before. Stronger jaw, now. Harry glanced down at his own hands. Same as they'd always been... but they somehow seemed small.
Draco stopped suddenly, ducking down a side street, pulling Harry from his thoughts. At the end of the alleyway, Draco walked up to a trashcan, a bright orange streak painted across its front. He lifted the lid, peering inside. Harry realized he was looking for another Portkey, and only had a quick glimpse of it (an old boot, by the looks of it) before he felt himself whisked away.
"Well… ain't this a real treat... Real surprise, anyway!"
Vaguely familiar baggy, brown eyes peered through him, curiosity coloring the features set underneath shaggy unkempt hair. Mundungus Fletcher, he recognized after a moment.
"I weren't expectin' you for a week yet," Mundungus continued, watching while a frowning Draco set down the boot Portkey on a stack of boxes. They had ended up in some sort of tiny rundown shop it looked like. Or maybe a closet, inside of a shop, lit by only a single candle placed on the small card table in front of Fletcher. The shadows the flickering light cast made the older man look much creepier than Harry remembered him being, the shadows and lines on his face deeper and accentuated.
"I decided to take care of business now. I'm sure you've heard the recent… news."
Mundungus peered up at him curiously. "Yeah, everyone has o' course. Did you have a hand in that? Won't tell a soul, I promise ya..."
Malfoy gave an extremely heavy sigh. "No. I didn't. Obviously. But my movements will be made more difficult because of the heightened suspicions, so it's best we do this quickly."
Mundungus sat back, clearly disappointed by Draco's lack of involvement in the grave robbing. "Ah well." He sniffed, tapping an expectant hand against the table. "I got what you've asked for, it was one of my easier procurement's, ta be rightly honest. If you have the galleons o' course..."
Draco finally took the empty chair across from Mundungus, sitting on its edge, apparently ready to jump up at a moment's notice. He didn't look comfortable at all. His eyes kept raking across the darkness around them with a measure of suspicion. Or more accurately, paranoia. Finally though, Draco pulled out a small leather satchel from his pocket. The same satchel he'd taken from a hidden spot in his home earlier. "You have all of it?"
"The whole box," Fletcher confirmed, yellow teeth bared in some sort of amalgamation of a smile as his eyes settled on Draco's satchel eagerly. He pulled out a large envelope from his own pocket, placing it on the table. "It's all yours. For the negotiated price."
Draco nodded, pulling his satchel open. He began stacking galleons on the tabletop. After a minute of this Harry realized it must be a miniature version of those bottomless bags because Draco kept pulling out galleons. Clinking them down in careful stack after stack.
Fletcher's eager eyes darted back and forth between the ever-increasing stacks and up to Draco's obscured face under the brim of his hat, the older man's expression utterly delighted. Endlessly greedy. He licked his lips. "I didn't think you were going to go through with it kid."
Draco didn't respond, continuing his stacks. It was getting ridiculous. But Harry was impressed, despite himself. What on earth did Malfoy purchase? 'A whole box' of what? What could be worth this obscene amount of money?
Finally, Draco was done laying out his money. He looked up expectantly. Without missing a beat, Mundungus held out the envelope for him, bowing his head as Draco took it. "All yours! Hell of a lot of money to drop on one night's worth of fun but I ain't judging!"
One… one night!? Harry thought, confused. What was Draco thinking? This was not a small fortune laid out on the table in front of them.
Draco waved an irritated hand. He clearly didn't care to hear Fletcher's opinions on the matter. "And the other item? Did you get it?"
The older man suddenly looked… hesitant.
Draco's expression darkened. "If you didn't get it, this deal is off."
Fletcher sighed. He pulled at one of his ears. He hemmed and hawed.
Draco leaned forward, arm stretched out and ready to slide all the money back over to his side of the table and away from the older wizard.
"All right! All right fine," he muttered, digging around in his deep pockets, "Not my fault what you do or don't do, I'm just the procurer… you make your own decisions..."
He pulled out a tiny package from a robe side-pocket. About as big as a thumb. It was wrapped in parchment and twine. With a frown he held it out and Draco immediately snatched it up, placing it carefully in his satchel. Harry tried to identify what the item could be during the hand-off, but it was perfectly nondescript and he had no idea.
Draco stood, envelope in one hand, satchel safely stored back on his person.
Fletcher gazed up at him. "Well thanks for the business kid. I'd say keep me in mind for any of your future needs, but..."
Draco nodded, neutral. He reached back for the Portkey and disappeared. Harry got to stay behind for an extra second and watch Mundungus jump up from the table with a celebratory "whoop" and "I'm rich baby!" before he was jerked back to Draco's side.
this chapter is named after a song by Third Eye Blind