Harry Potter belongs to JKR.
Warning: Drug and alcohol abuse.
Beta by FedererRex
Chapter 7
Draco grunted as another small body piled on top of him and he grimaced in disgust. If there were any diseases wizards could catch from muggles, he was sure he'd been contaminated multiple times over in the past few days. Macmillan had warned him the children were starved for physical attention, but Draco wasn't prepared in the slightest for the random hugs or hand holding or requests to help them blow their nose or tie their shoes or zip their clothing. He'd never in a million years thought he would be having as much physical contact as he'd had in the past week, and to top it off, they were disgusting snot-nosed miniature muggles. Thank Merlin he didn't have to work with the non-toilet trained ones.
They were meant to be playing something called football, a simple game with only one round ball, two rectangular hoops they called goals, and apparently as many players as they liked. In reality, today's game probably should have been called 'tackle and pile on Draco'. The kids were all under ten years old, but there were over a dozen of them and the children didn't seem to care which team they were supposed to be on. Draco didn't think it was part of the rules, but they all gravitated to him and buried him under their own bodies.
"Get off, you sodding-" Draco gasped as an exceptionally well-fed muggle child jumped onto the pile, driving the wind out of him and eliciting a series of shouts and groans from the other children he'd crushed with his girth. Draco looked off to one side to see Darren, Mack, and Alan doubled over laughing. Those gits definitely had something to do with this. Draco finally managed to tear away from enough children to get to his feet and sprint away from them. They chased after him like a mob of grindylows hungry for a meal.
"What did you do, Welch?" Draco yelled.
Darren was laughing too hard to answer, but he did pull out a handful of sweets from his jacket pocket.
"Okay!" he gasped, "that's good enough."
He tossed the colourfully wrapped packets of highly processed sugar onto the field, and like the vicious grindylows they were, the children turned as one and dove after the sweets, pushing and shoving over them. Draco, now completely ignored by the children, brushed the grass from his clothing and hair and checked to make sure his wand was still securely strapped to his calf. A few days ago, he'd managed to go shopping in muggle London where the only thing anyone cared about was whether he could pay. He now sported a pair of blue jeans, dark muggle loafers, a white polo shirt, and a dark blazer. He just couldn't peasant himself down enough to wear a casual sweatshirt and trainers like the other three young men typically did.
"Come on Drake, even you gotta admit that was a least a bit funny," Darren said, still holding his side.
Draco shook his head as he closed the distance to the three.
"You're about a hundred times better at being tackled than at actual footie," Alan said, "I'm pretty pants, but you're absolute shite. Have you ever even played football in your life?"
"Not really," Draco replied.
"No football at posh-boy school then?" Mack said. Draco disliked him and his fake blonde hair the most out of the three.
Draco just shrugged.
"Not really," he said again.
The three had been fishing for information about Draco for days now, but he'd demurred each time. He'd noted at least a dozen things they could improve about the actual game of football, but he kept his critiques to himself. The truth was he found football to be inferior to quidditch in almost every way, but he wouldn't insult the game because while the other three were having a bit of a laugh at his expense now, Draco suspected they could make his probation extremely difficult if they chose to. Almost everything about the muggle world was worse than the wizarding world, with perhaps the exception of the jeans everyone wore. Draco did have to admit they were a bit sturdier and protected his legs a bit better than his slacks.
Stephanie Griggs opened the back door of the orphanage.
"Okay, time for painting, and then it's dinner," she said, "lads, could you bring in the goals please?"
An excited cheer went up from the children as Darren, Draco, Mack, and Alan teamed up two apiece to disassemble the football nets and carry them into the building while the kids swarmed into the orphanage, leaving the discarded sweet wrappers on the grass.
After stowing the goals and closing the door of the storage shed, the three muggles contemplated going outside for a smoke until they realized they had none left between them, so the four young men went straight to the assembly room where dozens of young children and several large rolls of paper were scattered about on the floor. Stephanie busied herself cleaning up green paint spilled from one of the jars which had already been knocked over. Some of the children used brushes, but most of them painted with their fingers. Predictably, paint ended up on faces, on the floor, and some on clothing, creating an almost absurd mess. Draco and the others mostly helped clean up where they could so the job wouldn't be too massive once the mini-muggles finally migrated to the dining hall, then they could clean and finish the day sooner rather than later.
Draco also talked with the children somewhat. He found it easier to interact with the younger ones, who had no expectations. It made it easier to cope with interacting with the adult muggles, despite his continuing disgust. Most of the children painted pictures of birds, or trees, or themselves with a family. He knelt down in front of a little blonde girl with a bob cut and a sharp nose wearing a blue dress, who was painting some kind of white lobster or shrimp on a brown background.
"What's that?" Draco asked.
"It's the monster," she replied without looking up.
Draco squinted and turned his head sideways, trying to get a better idea of what the six-or-seven-year-old girl was painting.
"I see you've met Callie," a female voice next to him said.
"Mary!" the little girl, Callie, squealed as she dropped her paintbrush and Mary McKay knelt down to give her a big hug.
"McKay," Draco said as Mary picked up Callie and balanced her on one hip. He'd only spoken to her briefly a few times since they'd met on the playground.
"Hello Drake," Mary said, "Callie, say hello to Drake."
"Hello," Callie said, "Mary, put me down, I'm painting."
The little girl went back to drawing her strange shellfish monster.
"Callie's my sister," Mary said, "she's still young enough and cute enough I'm hoping she gets adopted soon. Don't you think she's cute?"
"Ah yes, adorable," Draco said, not even bothering to hide his disdain.
Mary looked down at the painting and frowned.
"Callista, are you painting that monster again?" Mary asked.
"Yes," Callie said, once again not looking up and continuing to paint.
Mary was about to say something else when Stephanie clapped her hands.
"Put your paintbrushes in the sinks please, and wash up for dinner!" she said loudly.
"See you around, Drake," Mary said, helping Callie off to the sinks. Draco didn't even bother replying.
There was a shuffle of movement as the orphans crowded towards a row of sinks at one end of the room, built low into the wall for children to access. After her charges had more or less washed up, Stephanie ushered the them off to the cafeteria while Draco, Darren, Alan, and Mack washed the paint brushes, hung up the papers to dry, stowed the paper rolls and paint jars, and mopped the floor.
"This would literally take twenty seconds with magic," Draco thought as he took his frustration out in violently scrubbing partially dried red paint off the floor.
Finally, when they were done and the room was passably clean but far from sparkling, the four delinquents washed their hands and arms to get all the residual colours off.
"Hey Drake, I know you're shite at football, but do you follow any teams? Gonna be wearing red tomorrow?" Darren asked.
"I suppose," Draco replied, guessing it was a professional football team, similar to professional quidditch teams.
"After we wrap up here, the lads and I are having a few mates over to watch the match," Darren said, "if you're keen."
"Ahh… I've got something on," Draco lied.
"Alright then, figured I'd ask," Darren said, "let me know if you change your mind."
Draco, dumbfounded, let the water run right past his hands for a good five seconds. These three, especially Darren, had been taking the piss out of him for the last four days, and now he'd just invited Draco to his home, presumably, to (somehow) watch a football match with them. Like Draco would ever spend more time interacting with muggles than he absolutely had to. Still, it was a bit confusing.
"They're muggles, they don't make sense," Draco thought.
The boys parted ways at the front of the orphanage and Draco walked quickly through the deepening night back to the Leaky, and tapped his way into Diagon Alley. It was such a comfort to be able to use his wand; he would never take it for granted again. Draco apparated to the Manor, managed to sneak in, change into proper wizarding clothing, and get back out without being seen, and then he was back to Diagon. Draco flicked off a tempus charm and quickened his steps. He spotted Theo Nott just as he arrived at Christine's, the fine dining French restaurant at the South end of Diagon Alley.
"Evening Theo," Draco said, drawing his friend's attention just as Theo reached the front door.
"Right on time," Theo said, pulling on the bronze plated handle and holding the heavy wooden door for Draco.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Draco asked.
"I come here at least once a week," Theo said, "we'll be fine."
Everything about the restaurant reeked of ostentatious wealth, from the velvet padded seating area near the front, to the hands built into the walls designed to take cloaks and hats, to the floating chandeliers and candelabras draped in crystals. Mirrors lined one side of the wall to give the room a greater appearance of depth, and roughly two thirds of the tables were already occupied by well-heeled patrons, the gems in their clothing or earrings sparkling in the dim restaurant light. Theo stepped up to the hostess.
"Nott, table for two," Theo said.
"Right this way," the young brunette said, leading them to a booth near the back.
"So far so good," Draco said as he slid into the leather seat.
"I told you, we'll be fine," Theo said.
They took their time perusing the menu. It had been ages since Draco had eaten proper French gourmet, and he was very much looking forward to a minimum four course meal, perhaps some escargot or coq-au-vin, basque poulet, and maybe tiramisu or soufflé for dessert.
"Garçon," Theo said, displaying the entirety of his French language ability and waving over a tuxedo clad waiter with slicked back black hair.
"I'll have the onion soup to start," Theo said.
"I'm sorry monsieur," the waiter interrupted, "we've received several complaints about your companion. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
Theo paused.
"Really," Theo asked, "Do you have any idea who I am, and how many galleons I spend here each month?"
"Yes monsieur, and I'm so sorry sir, my apologies," the waiter said, bowing and waiting, refusing to make eye contact.
Theo's wand was out and he was no doubt about to hex the poor man right on his bald spot until Draco reached across the table and grabbed his friend's wand arm.
"Theo, probation, I can't risk a scene," Draco whispered.
"You're no fun anymore," Theo said, but he acquiesced and stowed his wand.
They made their way out of the restaurant, Draco doing his best to remain dignified in the embarrassing situation, until he felt a tripping jinx hit his legs and he grabbed onto a stand holding a pot of yellow flowers, causing the entire apparatus to tumble to the ground along with him with a sound of breaking ceramic. He leapt to his feet and drew his wand, ready to curse whoever had tripped him.
"Who did that?" he yelled, glaring about the room, wand trembling with rage, but the patrons just looked back at him, some with clear animosity, some with smugness, and some with bored indifference. Nobody said a word or made a move to stand.
Theo grabbed Draco's shoulder from behind and pulled him towards the entrance.
"Probation, remember?" Theo said quietly.
Once they were on the street, Draco paced and fumed, wand out. He wanted to blast something but they were in public.
"Can we go to your place?" Draco asked.
Theo shook his head.
"Doxy infestation, they're still fumigating," Theo said, "why do you think I'm out with your sorry arse? What about yours?"
Draco shook his head.
"My mother's there," he said.
"So?" Theo replied, "I haven't seen auntie Narcissa in months. I think it would be grand, I'm sure we'll have lots to catch up on, reminiscing about old times. No doubt conversation will be downright scintillating."
Draco mumbled something under his breath as he ran his fingers through his hair.
"Didn't quite catch that," Theo said.
"I said you're a miserable cunt, Nott," Draco said, "let's go."
They apparated separately to Malfoy Manor, where Draco, as soon as he was through the gates and behind the safety of the wards, pointed his wand at a stone fountain.
"Reducto!" he yelled, and a beam of blue light struck the water-spewing satyr statue at the centre of the fountain, blasting it into dozens of pieces and scattering them into the high grasses.
"Shit," Draco thought, looking at his wand. He'd completely forgotten he needed to submit it for inspection on Sunday morning. Until now. Hopefully he could explain it away to Clark; it technically wasn't dark magic and it only worked on inanimate objects so….
Draco felt his mood sink even further as it occurred to him he couldn't even properly take out his frustration on his own property. Draco hunched his shoulders and walked up to the front door, Theo shadowing him silently as he pushed his way into Malfoy Manor. He glanced around the front foyer before leading Theo past the grand staircase to the main dining room. He peeked his way in through the door and spied the remains of at least a dozen meals, most barely touched, all under preserving charms to keep them from spoiling. Just the mere thought of eating on the table where Professor Burbage had been swallowed whole by Nagini still made his stomach turn. Moving quickly, he picked up two platters, passed one to Theo, then motioned his friend through the dining room and out the opposite door.
"Where'd those come from?" Theo asked.
"Shh," Draco said, "not so loud. They're Mother's. A service brings them twice a day."
Draco led them into one of the sitting rooms and locked the door behind them. A crystal chandelier lit up as they entered, shedding warm light and illuminating thick dyed red carpets, green and white wallpaper, a pair of beige couches adorned with several pillows, and several comfortable looking chairs and richly stained mahogany tables. An antique harpsichord sat against one wall, collecting dust, while a pair of empty portraits adorned the opposite wall, framing the entrance to the room. Green and gold curtains covered the windows, which looked out onto the rear patio and garden during the day. Draco set his platter down on one of the larger tables and arranged a chair so they could eat together. Between them, they had several small sandwiches, fruit salad, carrot and beef stew with bread for dipping, and vanilla pudding. The two mixed and matched plates until each had enough, then tucked in without ceremony.
"It's not Christine's, but at least the preservation charms haven't worn off," Theo said, chewing on a bit of beef, "so how's the probation, what have they got you doing?"
Draco sighed and put his fork down with a loud *clank*.
"I'm working an orphanage in muggle London," he said, "it's… its absolute pandemonium, every day. They have to do everything by hand, everything. Cleaning, moving things around, cooking, taking out the rubbish."
Draco shook his head.
"And there's so damn many of them, they're everywhere, and the kids are whingy annoying brats," he said quietly, "I'm already counting down the weeks until I'm done."
Theo nodded.
"Careful what you wish for," Theo said, "things are going to shite around here. The Ministry passed an equality act or some nonsense, everyone needs to move towards a set minimum proportion of mudblood and half-blood employees. Honestly, I didn't really pay much attention to it since I was busy, settling the estate and all, but it's causing some issues."
Draco chewed slowly.
"Let me guess…" he said thoughtfully, "Rather than fire some of the dead weight, they're hiring mudbloods and half-bloods and keeping who they've got, and screw any pureblood who doesn't have a job. And that'll keep on until the quotas are met."
Theo pointed a fork at Draco.
"Right in one," he said, "which means pretty much none of our housemates could get a job despite graduating from one of the best wizarding schools in the world. Blaise fucked off to Italy with his mum. Pansy is living with her parents and last I heard she was up to two bottles of firewhiskey a day, or night, whatever. Greg left the country, not sure where, America maybe, and Tracey's parents were driving her so spare she chose to subject herself to another year at Hogwarts rather than stay with them."
"Shit," Draco said, "what about Daphne?"
"Haven't heard," Theo said, "her father ended up with life in Azkaban though, maybe she left the country with her mum and sister?"
"Shh," Draco said as he thought he heard something from the door.
Theo froze, pudding halfway to his mouth, and Draco listened for a moment but didn't hear anything else for several long seconds.
"How are you doing? Aside from the muggles I mean," Theo asked, "I know the Ministry confiscated a lot after the war."
Draco snorted.
"Yeah, luckily they can't touch our holdings on the Continent otherwise we'd be fucked," Draco said, "instead, they slapped us with reparations, enough so we'd have to liquidate everything to pay it off. They were 'generous' enough to let us pay in instalments over the next fifteen years. We get an allowance every month, and mother's on house arrest; she can't leave the manor for at least ten years, and until the reparations are paid."
"Generous," Theo agreed sarcastically, "fuck 'em, come with me to Italy when your probation's done, we'll find Blaise and have some fun."
Draco sighed.
"I can't leave my mum," he said, "I mean, she's a major pain in the arse but…"
"Alohomora."
The lock clicked and the door creaked open.
"Draco, it hurts you think so little of me," Narcissa Malfoy said, stepping into the room.
Once the epitome of high society social elite, times had obviously been tough for her lately. Her hair was tousled and flat on one side, clearly recently slept on. One hand held her wand, the tip glowing with dim white light, and other held a half-full crystal glass of red wine, sloshing dangerously as she walked into the room. She wore only wore a short purple silk bathrobe tied loosely about her waist, and the thin fabric hung from her frame, accenting how much weight she'd lost in the past few months. Apparently, she had also lost one of her matching purple slippers somewhere as one foot was currently unadorned.
Draco closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. At least she appeared to be in a relatively stable mood, which likely meant it was just wine in her glass without any 'special' additives.
Narcissa stopped and gasped in faux amazement when her glazed eyes noticed Theo.
"You didn't tell me we were having guests," she said, nearly tripping over the carpet as she walked forward.
She dropped her wand into a pocket of her robe and extended a pale arm.
"Theodore dear, it's so good to see you," she said.
Theodore half-stood and brushed his lips across her knuckles.
"Auntie Narcissa, you're looking well," he said, sitting down again.
"Thank you, Theodore, for your polite words, unlike some people-" she said, trying to glare at Draco but swaying unsteadily on her feet instead. As she stumbled and reached for the back of a chair to steady herself, one shoulder of her robe slipped off and halfway down her arm, revealing far more of his mother's chest and breast than Draco had ever wanted to see.
"For fuck's sake mother," Draco said, standing up and moving around the table and Theo, "cover up, nobody wants to see that."
"Actually-" Theo started.
"Not the bloody time Theo," Draco said, looking over his shoulder.
Theo smirked but at least he held up a hand in acknowledgement he'd gone too far.
"What is this you're drinking, mother?" Draco asked, reaching for the glass.
Narcissa pulled it away from him.
"Chateau D'Avalon, 1752," his mother replied, taking another sip.
Theo let out a low whistle.
"The twelve thousand galleons per bottle Chateau D'Avalon?" Draco asked.
"Well I've no one to share it with, do I?" Narcissa asked, slurring her words a bit, as she looked to Theo, "I'm a prisoner in this horrible manor. Nobody visits; nobody even replies to my letters anymore. For over two months, I haven't spoken to anyone but my son, and he for the most part endeavours to leave me here alone as often as possible."
She looked down into her glass.
"Might as well enjoy you before someone comes up with a reason to confiscate you as well," she said to the wine, taking another sip.
Draco closed his eyes and let out a long even breath as Narcissa moved past him to all but collapse and slouch gracelessly into a chair.
"Maybe I'd stay around more if you weren't so sodding drunk all the time," Draco said.
"I'm just a bit tipsy," Narcissa said, "it's the evening, completely appropriate."
"Unlike your choice of attire," Draco muttered.
"I'll have you know this is made of the finest Cathay silk" Narcissa said, rubbing the material between two fingers.
"That's not the point… why do I even bother," Draco said.
Narcissa drained the last of her wine.
"Hmm," she said, looking at the empty glass as if trying to figure out what to do.
Theo gave him a schooled blank look, but Draco knew his friend well enough to know he was extremely amused by the entire situation.
"You're a disgrace to the House of Malfoy," a male voice interrupted their silent conversation.
Draco looked up to see one of the portraits flanking the door now occupied with an elderly male with bright blonde hair, wearing a pressed, dark suit. Septimus Malfoy looked down at Narcissa with distaste etched across his features.
Narcissa fumbled with her wand, eventually getting it out to point it at the portrait.
"Go back to sleep you old pervert, before I put you back in storage," she said.
"In my day you would've been properly taught to not to look like a common whore," Septimus said, eyeing her state of dress.
With a cry of indignation, Narcissa surged to her feet, or she tried to, but ended up stumbling and falling onto all fours on the carpet.
"Assuming the position are we?" Septimus smirked.
Narcissa looked up and unsteadily aimed her wand at the portrait, only for Draco to pluck it from her fingers. She attempted to grab it back but flopped unceremoniously onto her back instead.
"Silencio," Draco said, pre-empting whatever Septimus was about to say. The portrait merely watched in amusement.
"I thought we had all of the moving carpets disenchanted," Narcissa said from the floor as she looked up at the chandelier.
Draco just shook his head.
"Wingardium Leviosa," he said, levitating her.
It was a moment before she realized what was happening.
"Draco Lucius Malfoy, you put me down this instant!" she said.
"Just as soon as we get you to bed, mother," Draco said, "Theo, I'll only be a moment."
Theo nodded.
"It was a pleasure to see you again, Lady Malfoy," he said.
Narcissa was too caught up in cursing at Draco to form a proper response. Draco levitated her through the house, taking care not to bump her head on anything. As they left the dining room, she caught onto the doorframe with both hands and refused to let go.
"Mother, don't make me stun you," he said.
"You wouldn't dare!" Narcissa said.
Draco levelled his wand at her face, and she relented, releasing the frame and crossing her arms. They walked and floated in silence for a few minutes through the massive manor, Draco levitating his mother in front of him.
"Why do you do this mother?" he asked.
"Why do you think?" she snapped.
She was silent for a moment.
"Nothing else helps me pass the time, and I've fifteen years before I can leave this place," she said.
Draco nodded.
"I hate it," she said, "I never liked this manor, but your father insisted we live here. And now I'm forced to. I'd replace the furnishings if I could, but…"
She trailed off. She didn't need to say it. They didn't have the money, and she couldn't leave the manor to make the purchases anyway.
"This is degrading, I'm perfectly capable of walking," Draco's mother said as they ascended the grand staircase.
"We don't have all night, some of us actually need to sleep before sunrise," Draco replied, as they entered the Family Wing and moved down the hall to the master bedroom. On the way, he spied and picked up her lost slipper. Narcissa yawned.
"Sleep does sound appealing. I promise I won't drink as much tomorrow Draco," she mumbled, eyes already half-closed, "you know, I only want the best for you. Did I embarrass you in front of Theo? I didn't mean to embarrass you."
"I know," Draco said patronizingly, "here we are."
He rotated her slightly with a soft twist of his wand and set her down on her feet next to the massive four poster bed. The burgundy sheets were of the highest quality, of course, but they were currently a tangled mess. Narcissa promptly took a step and flopped forward onto the thick mattress, her purple robe flying up to reveal the bottom half of her naked, pale ass.
"Fuck's sake," Draco said, turning around quickly, but not quickly enough.
"Wand," his mother said face down into the mattress, holding out and absently waving one hand.
"I'll drop it off tomorrow before I leave," Draco said, retreating from the room as quickly as possible, ignoring his mother's muffled protests.
"Colloportus," he whispered. No need to have her wandering about in the middle of the night, looking for her wand, or more wine.
When he returned to the sitting room, Theo waved him over to their table which now boasted a bottle of firewhiskey flanked by two squat glasses.
"Figure you could use this," Theo said as he poured a pair of drinks.
"I can always count on you to raid my liquor supplies at the most appropriate moment, Theo," Draco said.
Draco threw back the measure, the liquid burning its way down his throat and warming his stomach. Then he picked up the bottle and poured himself another. Theo sipped his slowly.
"I can see why you never want to come home," Theo said.
Draco shook his head.
"It's not just that, though I swear the lack of clothing is more to get a reaction out me than anything else," Draco said, "She's worse when she's on whatever latest potion she's owl-post ordered. One time I came home and she tried to curse me. I had to leave and come back after she fell asleep."
He shook his head and downed another shot.
"The worst though, worse than seeing my mother's bits, is You-Know-Who was here, for months," Draco said, "killing people, torturing people, in almost every room. Can't be healthy, being around that all the time, worrying you'll be next, or your mum, or your father. Still hear the screams sometimes…"
"Personally, my father was a git, but yes, I imagine not," Theo said, "you should at least consider coming to Italy. The Mediterranean sun will do wonders for your pasty white skin."
Draco shook his head.
"Like I said, she's a pain in the arse, but she's still my mother, and basically the only family I have left," Draco said, "Father's going to die in Azkaban, so…"
He looked down at his shot glass, filled again with amber firewhiskey.
"Yeah, life is shit," Draco said.
They commiserated over a few more shots before Draco begged off more alcohol so as not to be late the following morning. They returned the half-empty bottle to the cellar before Draco and Theo both turned in, Draco to his room and Theo to his preferred guest room.
Draco woke the next morning with a bit of fuzziness that couldn't really be called a proper hangover, which meant that he'd stopped at the appropriate point. Figuring Theo could let himself out, Draco didn't bother waking him, but he did deposit his mother's wand on the nightstand next to her bed while she slept, as promised. On the way to the orphanage he bought a pack of smokes for Darren and the others; might as well at least try to get into their good graces. As odd as muggle customs were, he didn't think an unsolicited gift would be a bad thing. Something struck him as he exchanged the paper currency for the small cardboard box with paper wrapped tobacco inside. The convenience store clerk, a boy probably no older than Draco himself, didn't sneer at him, or tell him his money was no good. He didn't know him from any of the hundreds of other muggles who came through the shop on a daily basis.
They were muggles, they were filthy and pathetic, with no magic in their blood, forced to do everything by hand… but they also didn't know anything about him. They didn't hate him for letting Death Eaters into Hogwarts, or cursing Katie Bell or Madam Rosmerta, or getting Dumbledore killed. They didn't want to kill him because his family had switched sides at the final battle, or because of the tattoo on his arm. He'd taken to covering it out of habit, but out here, nobody even knew what it meant. As he arrived at the orphanage, Draco slowly and deliberately hung his blazer in the hall closet. He felt exposed with the faded skull and snake tattoo open for anyone to see, but when Darren, Mack, and Alan arrived, they didn't even mention it. In the morning, the quartet assisted the paid staff chaperone the younger orphans in one of the indoor playrooms, occasionally helping the kids with wooden puzzles or building blocks until lunch.
"Hey," Draco said to Darren as they set up the football goals again after eating, "got you a present."
He tossed the pack of cigarettes to Darren, who caught them one-handed. Darren gave Draco an appraising look.
"Thanks mate," Darren said, pocketing them in his sweatshirt.
"Anytime," he said, "still watching that match later today?"
"Of course, coming then?" Darren replied.
"Yeah," Draco said, "plans changed."
Darren nodded.
They finished up the rest of the day with (proper) footie with the pre-teen kids, while Stephanie and her assistants set up arts and crafts. They made jewellery out of pasta, pipe cleaners, and coloured string, but Draco noted the kids seemed more interested in throwing the pasta at each other than in making disposable jewellery. Clean up was markedly quicker than the previous day's finger painting. Through it all, Draco kept waiting for someone to look at his Dark Mark or at him with disgust, but it never happened, not once. Finally, it was time to go, and Draco retrieved his blazer from the hall closet and walked out the front with the others. Darren immediately lit up a cigarette, shielding the flame from the breeze with one hand as he walked down the driveway to the street. Draco followed Darren and the others in the opposite direction from the Leaky and the entrance to the Wizarding World, and into the deepening London darkness. The three muggles chattered about the upcoming match, the players, someone who was battling an injury, but Draco couldn't really follow any of it. The buildings they passed gradually became older and more broken down, and the streets and pavement more cracked, with weeds sticking through in places and broken glass littering the sidewalk and crunching beneath their feet.
After about fifteen minutes, they parted ways with Alan and Mack, who went to pick up 'supplies', whatever that meant. Darren led Draco up to a row of block of flats four floors high, the concrete walkways to each row of doors dingy in the poor light. Spaced out, they seemed like sad hooded eyes staring back at Draco. The two walked up the stained concrete stairs at one end of the building and then into the dimly lit hall. Darren unlocked the old, warped wooden outer door with a cracked security glass panel and led Draco into a darkened interior stairwell. Faded yellowing wallpaper peeled and hung down in places, and a faint fetid smell caused Draco to involuntarily turn his lips down in disgust. Darren climbed up to the to the second floor, Draco close behind him, then flipped to a different key and unlocked the door to his apartment, leading Draco inside. The muggle flicked on the light switch and hung the keys on a hook by the door.
"Home sweet home," Darren said, walking into the kitchen, "drink?"
"Sure," Draco said.
The apartment was not in very good shape. A musty smell permeated the air, and the thin and worn gold carpet sported stains in several places, each a slightly different shade of brown or black. Cracks crisscrossed the white plaster walls, with some of the larger ones mostly covered up with taped posters of football players or scantily clad women. A plaid couch with partially ripped cushions sat against one wall, and a large glass and plastic box sat atop a large squat side board against the opposite wall. A pair of rickety wooden end tables covered with used glasses bookended the couch, and a sturdier looking coffee table with several magazines scattered across its surface sat in the middle of the room. A door on Draco's right led to a dark hallway and what he suspected was a bedroom, and to his left was a cream-tiled kitchen and probably a washroom. Curtains obscured the view from the only windows he could see, in the kitchen, to the side of the stove. Water stains marred the ceiling in places, and dirty clothing lay thrown over the back of chairs and strewn across the couch. Draco wrinkled his nose in distaste.
"Here you go mate," Darren said, handing Draco a green glass bottle.
"Cheers," Darren said, tapping his own bottle against Draco's and taking a long swig.
Draco took a sip and it was… well it wasn't very good but it was definitely beer.
"Thanks," Draco said.
"Yeah, feel free to watch whatever," Darren said, picking up some of the discarded clothing and moving past Draco, "the others'll be over in a bit."
The hallway door closed, and Draco looked around the dingy sitting room.
"Watch whatever," he muttered.
Draco placed his beer on the coffee table and picked up one of the magazines. He was greeted by a cover of a naked brunette woman in a very strategic pose, almost but not quite revealing her naughty bits. Unfortunately, the picture didn't move. Draco opened the magazine to find the good stuff inside and flipped a few pages. The girl from the cover was really baring everything and he felt his cock twitch in response. Draco dropped the magazine back onto the table, picked up his bottle again, and took another sip.
"Probably wouldn't be a good thing for Darren to come back out and find me with a raging hard-on looking at his girlie magazines," Draco thought.
Now that he thought about it, it'd been over two years since he'd had any action at all, not since fifth year when Pansy gave him a handjob after curfew, a lifetime ago. Darren emerged, now wearing a short sleeved red shirt with a white collar and actually looking smarter than he usually did while working at the orphanage.
"Right," he said, tossing a similar shirt at Draco, "that one's for you."
"What?" Draco asked.
"Go on, change clothes, loo is next to the kitchen," Darren said, "might be a bit large for you but that's alright."
Draco turned the shirt over and to find a white number and a name on the back.
"Right, it's a football jersey," he thought, dropping his blazer onto the back of the lone unoccupied seat in the kitchen.
In the loo, uncomfortably small with just a sink, toilet, and small metal tub and shower, Draco pulled his polo shirt over his head. The ugly purple scar from his sixth year greeted him in the mirror, running diagonally across his chest. Draco sniffed the sports jersey apprehensively, then pulled it on over his head. He checked the mirror again, ran his fingers through his hair, and adjusted the collar slightly. A muggle football fan stared back at him. Draco shook his head and headed back out into the apartment to find Mack and Alan had arrived, sporting the same style jersey. The two had staked claim on the couch and were currently absorbed with watching the glass and plastic box which Draco quickly learned was called a 'telly'. It showed images complete with sound. Draco joined them and watched the telly with interest. The images of two men talking about the upcoming match faded away to be replaced by advertisement. Draco immediately felt a gut reaction akin to a sneer, but as he tried to think of a magical equivalent, he came up blank. Asking any of the half-dozen questions competing for attention would make him look like a fool, so he kept quiet, sat at the edge of the couch, and observed.
Several more friends of Darren's showed up over the next few minutes, all of them wearing the same red and white collared shirt, all of them bearing various junk foods or alcoholic beverages, mostly beer. Eventually eight young English men had crowded into the tiny apartment, plus Draco, and they were all apparently quite well acquainted with each other. They spread out, some pulling chairs from the kitchen and some sitting on the floor closer to the telly, but not without a bit of shoving over positions first. A steady parade to and from the kitchen kept everyone well stocked with food and beer, and they chattered about football and other things Draco tried to follow but couldn't even figure out even half of what they were saying. All he could gather was this was an important match because the red team was playing another top ranked team. Someone knocked at the front door, and Darren got up to answer.
"Mary, what are you doing here?" he asked, drawing Draco's attention.
McKay stood in the doorway wearing her jeans and leather jacket.
"Snuck out," she said, "gonna watch the match with you."
She pushed her way past Darren, who rolled his eyes.
"If Macmillian asks, you were never here. Boys this is Mary, my flatmate's sister," Darren said, "Mary, these are the boys."
An incomprehensible murmur went up from the group as Mary smirked and half-waved, then she walked over to Draco.
"Budge over," she said, squeezing between him and Alan.
Someone slipped a beer into Mary's hand and she clinked it with Draco and Alan before taking a sip. Then the match started. The parade to the kitchen stopped, and everyone stared almost unblinking at the screen. Draco tried to follow the game. He knew they wanted the red team to score, but it was clear there was a great deal of nuance to the game as the muggles reacted to plays that made little sense to him.
"Why'd they stop?" Draco asked.
"Offside. Ain't you ever seen football before?" one of the muggles asked, looking at him like he was a mentally challenged troll child.
Draco ignored the question as play started again, and resolved to keep his mouth shut going forward.
"I'll tell you later," Mary whispered to him, and he gave her the smallest of nods.
They broke for halftime with the score nil-nil, everyone used the loo, then they all sat down again to watch the second half. The commentators were going on about the excellent play of the defence and keepers, while the room grew uncomfortably warm. Mary shed her jacket and nervously rubbed her forearms as she watched. Draco felt he probably would be getting a bit bored if not for the fact he still wasn't completely over his natural revulsion of muggles, that and the beers made him a bit fuzzy. A statistic flashed up on the screen and Draco did some rough calculations in his head, converting pounds to galleons.
"Hang on," Draco said, "that guy earns how much?"
"Yeah," Alan said, "and that doesn't even count the endorsements."
"Shut the fuck up," one of the other muggles said, the same one that'd told him about offside earlier. Draco severely wanted to hex the git.
The well-paid football star with the stylishly messy haircut lined up behind the white ball and took a few measured steps to the side while everyone in the room collectively held their breath. A few running steps, his shoe made contact with the ball, and it sailed through the air, curving almost impossibly, just beyond the leaping keeper's outstretched gloves, and into the top corner of the goal.
"GOAL!" the room exploded in cheers. Beer and chips flew into the air as muggles leapt to their feet. Draco could barely hear for a few seconds for all the shouting, but everyone quieted down a bit as the tele played the goal repeatedly in slow motion.
"How the hell did he make it curve like that with just his foot?" Draco asked.
"That's why he's the best fucking player in the world," Mack replied, grinning, "worth every penny."
Chatter picked up after that until the final whistle blew and the match was over. The muggles seemed to be congratulating each other on the win even though they themselves had absolutely nothing to do with it, which was almost exactly the same thing quidditch fans did. As they finished their drinks, people left by one's and two's until it was just himself, Darren, Alan, Mack, and Mary remaining.
"Right," Darren said, closing and locking the door, "time to celebrate."
He disappeared into the bedroom and emerged a minute later with a clear plastic bag filled with bits of a green plant Draco didn't recognize.
"Aww Welch, coming through in our time of need," Mack said.
Darren sat on the floor and spread out a few items on the glass coffee table. He rolled up some of the plant bits into thin paper seemingly made specifically for the purpose, and licked the edge and twisted to seal it. It looked vaguely like one of the cigarettes Draco had seen them smoking earlier. Mack put a disc into a small black box, which started emitting some kind of slow pondering music that sounded 'weird'. Darren then lit the tip and took a long drag, holding the smoke in his lungs while passing the joint to Mack, who did the same before passing to Alan.
"Can I get a hit?" Mary asked.
"Sorry Mary, I promised Bruno I wouldn't let you do anything illegal until he gets out," Darren said.
Mary pouted and crossed her arms.
"Do you smoke Drake?" Darren asked Draco as Alan held the smouldering joint out to him.
The question itself was innocent, but Draco grew up in Slytherin. This was a test to see whether Draco would be willing to break the law with them. Accept and get a bit closer to the group. Decline and forever be kept at arm's length. Despite them being muggles, despite knowing almost nothing about football or the league, the sense of belonging he'd felt just doing something as simple as sitting with a group of blokes and watching a sports match called to him. He'd been moving from one task to another on autopilot since May, doing only what was required of him, what was necessary to stay out of prison and away from the dementors. The fact he only had the manor and his mother to go home to didn't change the fact that he'd actually enjoyed tonight, and he didn't want it to end just yet.
"Sure," he said, taking the joint in two fingers.
He put it to his lips and tried to suck it in, but intentionally breathing smoke is harder than it looks. Reflex took over and he coughed it all up, then cleared his throat and took a few breaths while the other three snickered and Mary smirked.
"Go ahead, try again," Darren said with an easy smile.
Draco took another pull, this time feeling the heat on his fingers and getting a decent amount in his mouth, then inhaling like he'd seen the others do. The smoke burned as he forced it deeper, but his pride refused to let him cough again. He held his breath and passed the joint back to Darren, and the four of them took turns filling the room with smoky haze until it was gone.
"Should we do another one?" Darren asked.
"Fuck it, let's smoke all of it," Alan said.
Draco nodded.
As Darren rolled up another two joints, Alan made them something in the kitchen which smelled absolutely fantastic, and Draco felt his thoughts getting slower. An ache and tenseness in his shoulders he didn't even know he had slowly relieved itself like the unspooling of a tightly wound coil, and he felt his cares and burdens melt away. The stress of the trials, the trauma of seeing his mother au naturel while fading into a shadow of her former self, of having to deal with muggles day in and day out under threat of dementors if he put even one toe out of line, the despair and hopelessness for his future, it all faded away to a low background buzz. The music which previously sounded merely weird took on an entirely ethereal presence. Mack made some joke Draco didn't even get, but he found himself snickering anyway. Right about when he started feeling hungry, Alan appeared at his side with plates full of greasy pastries stuffed with burning hot cheese, meat and Merlin knew what else, but they tasted glorious. Draco was certain he burned his mouth on the first one but he didn't care. When he got up to use the loo, he ended up weaving haphazardly before stumbling heavily into the kitchen table.
"Mate, you are so blazed right now," Darren said, laughing.
Draco joined in and laughed at himself. In the loo he stopped at the mirror and looked at his reflection, bloodshot eyes and stupid grin on his face. He looked a mess and completely didn't care. Draco didn't stop snickering until he returned through the smoky haze to the couch, throwing an arm about Mary's shoulders as he sat down. She leaned into him as Darren finished off the second joint.
"So, this stuff actually got me into a lot of trouble. It's why I'm stuck at the orphanage," Darren said, sobering up slightly for a moment, "collared for possession, twelve months' probation."
"Alan," Darren said, pointing at the skinny, dark haired boy, "is the dumbest smart kid I know. Or the smartest dumb kid, not sure."
Alan flicked a crisp at Darren, who ignored it as it bounced off his shoulder.
"He hacked into the district computers and figured out a way to change grades, then charged the other kids for it," Darren said, "Ten quid per grade. Then he bragged too much and the teachers found out."
Alan stood up and bowed dramatically, his dark hair flopping forward over his face.
"Three month's probation because I'm underage," he said.
Mack cleared his throat.
"My mate robbed a store, I was just with him at the time, stupid twat," Mack said, "but it was my car we drove off in, so I got accessory. It was either six weeks jail or six months with the kids, easy choice."
The three boys stopped talking and looked at Draco.
"I joined the inner circle of a madman bent on killing and subjugating all of you," Draco thought, "and I thought it was the right thing to do."
"I-" Draco started, looking around at the other three, then at Mary, all of them expectant. For the first time Draco noticed her slightly upturned button nose, and the way her eyebrows came together and her lips formed a thin line when she was concentrating. His mind idly wondered if the light freckles across her nose and cheeks went all the way down.
"What in the actual fuck are you thinking, Draco?" he thought.
"I tried to murder my headmaster," was what he said, looking at Mary, but she didn't react at all except to blink.
"It was a suicide mission, because my father disgraced himself. Mother would have been tortured and executed in front of me if I failed," he thought.
Nobody spoke.
"Damn," Darren said, breaking the silence, "how?"
Somehow, Draco expected the revelation he'd attempted to kill someone to get a bigger reaction. Perhaps it was whatever they were smoking. Draco was pretty sure if the Dark Lord himself appeared in the kitchen at that moment, he probably wouldn't even stand up, and he suspected the others felt much the same.
"What, how did I try to kill him?" Draco asked, breaking eye contact with Mary and looking over at him.
Darren nodded.
Draco looked down at his beer.
"Couple of ways, poisoned his brandy, some other things," Draco said, "but eventually I let some… unfriendly people into the school. One of them did him in."
"Snape tried to warn me, and help me. And I told him off. I'm such a fucking idiot," Draco thought.
He took another swig.
"Did they catch him? The one who did it? What'd that bloke get, for murder I mean?" Alan asked.
Draco shook his head.
"Nothing. He was killed shortly afterwards," Draco replied.
Draco looked around and noticed the mood of the room had gone extremely sombre. The joint sat forgotten in Darren's hand, a thin tendril of smoke still curling up into the air. Draco chugged the rest of his beer, finishing it in seven quick gulps.
"I need some air," he announced, standing up quickly and heading out the door.
"I always said there was different laws for the sodding rich," Mack said quietly just as Draco entered the stairwell.
The cool air hit him like a blast to the face, and he felt a bit of the haziness of the room start to dissipate as he took the steps down, hanging tightly to the wooden banister. He was halfway to the ground floor when Darren's door opened again.
"Drake?" Mary said, her voice echoing around the stairwell.
"Down here," Draco said.
"The roof is better if you want air," Mary said, walking up to the railing and looking down at him from the second-floor landing.
Four stories was a lot of steps to climb. Draco considered telling her to sod off, but he wasn't really in the mood to be rude.
"Alright," he said, turning around and climbing.
By the time they reached the roof, Draco's thighs were burning, and they were both huffing a bit. He used to climb seven flights at Hogwarts every day, with no problem. Honestly, it'd only been a few months!
Mary pushed the heavy metal door at the end of the hall open. A broken padlock hung off a hook next to it. Draco stepped out into the raw London night air. Although the building was only four stories high, most of the nearby structures were the same height or shorter. From here he could see the lights of the city spread out, with a cluster of tall buildings brightening up the night in the distance. The flat roof wasn't clean, but it wasn't exactly dirty either. A pile of leaves sat against one corner of the low wall which acted as a guard against falling, and the roof itself, while damp, wasn't truly wet.
"There's a good spot to sit over here," Mary said, leading Draco to the far side of the roof. She sat down with her back next to a small structure, Draco guessed it was a vent of some kind, and motioned him over. Draco sat down, deliberately putting a good bit of distance between them. He rubbed his jaw, stretched his legs out, crossed his ankles, and leaned back against the vent so he could stare at the softly glowing cloud cover. He still felt pretty good from whatever it was they'd smoked. Honestly if his probation was going to be like this for six months, he just might survive it.
"You alright?" Mary asked.
"Yeah," Draco said.
"I'm guessing your headmaster must have done something really bad to you if you wanted to kill him," Mary said.
"Nah, he just…" Draco said, "fuck, I can't even explain it."
Mary pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her jeans pocket, tapped one out, and stuck it in her mouth. She offered one to him as well.
"No thanks," Draco said, and she put the pack away.
Mary lit the cigarette and took a long drag, blowing smoke up into the night sky.
"I come up here sometimes when I realize just how screwed my life is," Mary said.
Draco didn't say anything, just watched as the intermittent puffs of smoke from Mary dissipated into nothingness. This stupid muggle knew absolutely nothing about screwed. His thoughts wandered to his own life, his own choices, other paths he might have taken. What if he'd decided to join with Dumbledore, could he have been a spy like Snape? Could he have stood up to his crazy aunt? Could he have fought?
"Who are you kidding Draco," he thought, "you're not a hero. The Dark Lord was living in your bloody house. The only thing that would have happened is he would have read your mind and found out in about three seconds that you'd betrayed him. Then you'dve been branded a blood traitor, tortured, and executed, then probably fed to his snake."
His thoughts were interrupted when Mary started speaking again.
"I'm going to age out soon, you know," she said, "been at the orphanage for five years. At first I was excited when we met the couples who came to visit. After a few months, I realized. Nobody wants to adopt a teenager."
"I really don't care," Draco thought.
"So, where will you go?" he asked, only to maintain a modicum of decency.
"Going to move in here, stay in my brother's room until he gets out of prison, hopefully later this year or early next year," Mary said, "he and Darren are best mates."
Draco nodded.
"So Callista is your sister," Draco said.
"Yes, and my brother's name is Bruno," Mary said, "actually he's my half-brother, and Callie is my half-sister. She and I share the same mum, and Bruno and I the same dad. I know, my family tree is complicated."
"You have no idea," Draco muttered.
Mary stubbed out the cigarette and looked up at a patch of sky visible through a break in the clouds.
"Drake, can I ask you something?" Mary asked.
Draco nodded.
"If you don't want to tell me that's alright but… you're really odd," she said, "not that I mind… but there's some things you just have no clue about. Common sense things. Who grows up in England and doesn't know about football?"
Fuck.
Draco's mind raced, at least as quickly as it could while he was stoned out of his mind. She'd found him out, knew he wasn't a regular muggle, but he'd barely even talked to her, how could she know? She could clue others in. He couldn't dodge questions like this from everyone for another five and a half months, and he definitely couldn't afford any potential breaches of the Statute.
"Were you injured? Car accident or something?" Mary asked.
Draco nodded, trying his best to hide his relief as she answered her own question.
"Yeah, car accident," he said, "Head injury, I forget a lot of things, common sense things."
Then inspiration struck him. He leaned a bit closer to her and lowered his voice, as if bringing her into a conspiracy.
"Honestly it's a bit embarrassing, I'd appreciate if you didn't mention anything to the others, but you know, perhaps you could help me out," he said, "maybe if I see something I've forgotten, or I don't know what something is but I think I should, I can ask you. And hopefully I'll get better over time."
He put on his best practiced genuine smile.
Mary the muggle smiled back at him.
"Alright," she said.
They sat on the roof together while Mary smoked a second cigarette. By the time she'd finished that one and stubbed it out, Draco's head had started to clear a bit, and they went back downstairs. Mack and Alan had left, and the curtains by the windows fluttered a bit as the light evening breeze helped air the place out. Mary went to use the loo while Draco changed out of the football jersey in the dark hallway leading to the bedrooms.
"Darren," Draco said emerging from the hall, "that's for sharing that… whatever the fuck it was we smoked."
Darren smirked.
"First one's free," Darren said, "unfortunately I'm all out, and I don't have any cash to buy more."
Well, that was a problem easily solved.
"How much does it cost?" Draco asked.
"Anywhere from about ten quid to hundreds, depending on the quality and how much you buy," Darren said, "why, interested?"
Draco nodded and reached into his pocket, pulling out a fistful of bills.
"See what you can get with that," Draco said.
"Right," Darren said, taking the cash slowly.
"Can you get some more by Monday?" Draco said, "I'll even share it with you and Alan. Mack can go fuck himself."
Darren smirked, and Draco got the distinct feeling he shouldn't have handed the cash over right away.
"I know you're not thinking about screwing me over," Draco said, "because I know where you live."
Draco grinned to make it sound more like a joke and take the edge off the threat, but it had the desired effect as Darren nodded seriously.
"I never screw my clients," he said.
Mary emerged from the loo and Darren stuffed the money into his pocket.
"I'm knackered, going to bed," she said.
They exchanged good night's as she headed to the bedrooms.
"I'm heading off as well," Draco said, "see you Monday."
"See you Monday," Darren said, patting the pocket with the cash in it.
Yes, this probation was looking better already.