Harry Potter is owned by JKR
Beta by FedererEx
Chapter 37
Draco slammed the newspaper down on the table.
"Bloody Potter," he thought. Despite the Ministry making a complete mockery of the Statute of Secrecy, the editors at the Daily Prophet somehow saw fit to continue to laud him as the saviour of wizard kind.
"Still, Mulciber is dead," Draco thought. He glanced diagonally across the table to the animagus' preferred seat when the Dark Lord had held council in the Manor's dining room. If Potter and Weasley wanted to risk their lives going after the remaining Death Eaters, Draco wasn't going to try and stop them; better them than him. He left the copy of the Prophet on the table for Mother to read later, then cast a quick tempus charm. Draco quietly climbed the stairs and walked down the hallway to her bedroom. He didn't particularly want to take a public floo, but he would if she was awake. Luckily, he found her still passed out, pipe and bag of weed left on the nightstand. He quietly closed the door and returned to the ground floor fireplace, the one connected to the public floo network.
"Tonks residence," he whispered, then tossed the pinch of powder, and stuck his head into the embers. His head passed through the floo, and familiar, uncomfortable feeling of his body being in two places at once washed over him. He saw a green tinted room, small and cosy, with a couch opposite, and a door to his left.
"Hello?" he called in a low voice.
"Coming!" Andromeda replied from another room. Draco spotted her enter from his right; she wore muggle jeans and a loose, flowing shirt.
Andromeda manipulated something on the fireplace, out of his sight, probably to drop the wards for a moment.
"Come on through," she said.
Draco pushed into the fireplace and stumbled into Andromeda's sitting room. The first thing he noticed was how alike she and Aunt Bella looked, except that her features were somewhat softer, and her hair somewhat lighter.
"And her eyes look totally sane," Draco thought.
Draco heard a burble and looked to his right to see Andromeda's grandson in a large wooden playpen near the wall. A colourful mat covered the floor inside the pen, and plush animals, wooden blocks, and various other toys filled the corners. The boy had stopped stacking blocks to stare at Draco. As he watched, the boy's hair slowly shifted from jet black to platinum blonde. Draco stared straight back, stunned at the ease with which the toddler metamorphmagus self-transfigured.
"He likes you," Andromeda said.
A shrill whistle grew in volume from the kitchen.
"That'll be the tea, have a seat," Andromeda said as she left the room. Draco nodded, but ignored the couch as he knelt down by the small child with only the wooden fence separating them.
"So, you're my cousin," he said.
"Once removed," he thought. Draco had never met the boy's mother, his first cousin.
He reached inside the pen and set a block on top of the stack. The boy followed suit. Draco set another one, and the stack wobbled but stayed standing. The boy tried to place another but the entire stack collapsed with a loud clatter, and he clapped and babbled incoherently.
"Again," he said.
"His name is Teddy. You're pretty good with kids, it seems," Andromeda said from the doorway. She held a tray with tea and biscuits. Draco stood up.
"I worked with them for a while," Draco said, "muggles, at an orphanage. Part of my probation."
Andromeda nodded as she glided to the coffee table and set the tray down.
"So, we haven't met," she said as she held out a hand for him to take, "Andromeda Tonks."
It was a pureblood custom, not one normally used between family, and this might have been her way of telling him that she did not consider him family, though she didn't use the normal introduction of surname first. Draco decided to respond in kind; it was her home, after all.
"Draco Malfoy," Draco said, as he took her warm fingers for just a second. They sat adjacent to one another, with him on the couch and her in an armchair. Draco took a sip from the small teacup.
"Earl Grey, with honey," he thought.
"It was a surprise to receive your letter," Andromeda said.
"I know, it must have been. Thank you for meeting me," Draco replied.
Andromeda nodded, then sipped her tea as she watched Draco over the rim of the glass.
"What was it you wanted to speak about?" she asked.
"Right to the point, then," Draco thought. He set his cup down on the saucer.
"It's about my mother," he said, "she's not well. I don't know if you're aware, but she's been sentenced to house arrest for fifteen years."
"She's fortunate then, all things considered," Andromeda said.
"Yes, but it's not good for her, she doesn't talk to anyone," Draco said, "I was hoping…"
"Hoping what, that I might drop by for a visit?" Andromeda asked.
Something in her tone made Draco think that it was not something the young grandmother was quite keen on.
"Well, yes," Draco said.
"The last time I saw her, she told me she only had one sister," Andromeda said, "nothing she has said or written since indicates she's changed her mind."
"So, she has read Mother's letters," Draco thought.
"That was a long time ago, and how can you be sure she didn't say it under considerable duress?" Draco asked, "perhaps if you met in person…"
Andromeda raised an eyebrow.
"She's my sister, I daresay I know her better than you," Andromeda replied.
Draco grimaced, this was not going as planned. He had to have Andromeda on his side.
"My father is dead. So are my grandparents, both my uncles, aunt Bella," Draco said, and Andromeda set her cup down at the mention of her elder sister, "everyone who cared about the old ways. I am Lord Malfoy now. If it comes down to it, I can bring you into the Malfoy family and she'll have no choice but to accept you as her sister again."
Andromeda snorted.
"That seems like a radical step. And quite presumptuous that I would give up the name of my late husband. What makes you think I'd want to be a Malfoy?" she asked.
"I was only making a point," Draco said.
She leaned forward and studied him carefully.
"There's something else, isn't there," she said.
Draco frowned.
"Do I want to say anything?" he thought, "honestly Draco, if not her, then who?"
He opened his mouth, then closed it again, and took a deep breath to steady himself.
"I… I've met someone," he said.
Andromeda regarded him as she leaned back in her chair.
"For other people, it might be an easy choice, but for me, it's not," he said, "the House of Malfoy is a pure line that stretches back centuries. And you're… you're the only one I could think of who might understand what that means."
She watched him silently for another moment while he internally squirmed at the scrutiny.
"It's a muggleborn," she said.
Draco shook his head, and Andromeda's eyes widened and a hand went to her chest.
"A muggle, someone you met during your probation. Oh my," she said as she set her tea down on the table.
Draco nodded, and he waited for the ridicule, but it didn't come. If it were Theo, or Daphne, or Pansy, or Blaise, or Tracy, or even Vincent or Gregory, they would have openly mocked him, but Andromeda Tonks merely leaned forward and continued to study him with a serious expression.
"And you're worried that what, she'll cast out her only son? The last living Malfoy?" Andromeda asked. Her smirk told him that she thought this was unlikely.
"I'm more concerned that she'll kill her, actually, and assume I'll get over it eventually," Draco said.
Andromeda inclined her head slightly as if to say that was at least somewhat likely.
"Plus, everyone I know will turn their backs on me," he said.
"You might be surprised. So, you came to me because I was a Black? And I married a muggleborn against my father's will?" Andromeda said.
"And because you lost them all," Draco said. He stopped for a split-second.
"There's this thing called tact, Draco," he thought, but there was nothing for it, he had no choice but to plough forward now.
"I need to know… and, sorry for being so forward, but I need to know, if you could do it all over again… was it worth it?" Draco asked.
Her mouth fell open slightly and looked at him as if he were some kind of idiot, then glanced to where her grandson played.
"I wouldn't trade it for the world," she said.
"So… will you help me?" Draco asked, "I'm sure that together, we can convince Mother. You'd get a sister back, and so would she."
"I'll… think about it," Andromeda replied as she took another sip of tea.
It was better than Draco had expected. In the corner, Teddy babbled to himself as he played.
"Right, I've added you to the wards, so you'll be able to come and go for the time being," Draco said, "do not make me regret doing so."
"Hey, don't worry about it," Shawn Davis said. After Tracy introduced her cousin, Draco had given him a brief interview; honestly, he'd had no idea how to interview a prospective employee, but Davis had earned seven NEWTs and passed the Auror trials, so at least on paper, he was competent.
"I'm going to be busy out in the greenhouses, growing and then transporting plants into the cellar with the jars, for curing," Draco said, "I need you to move all of these racks and boxes out of this cellar, and bring them to another one, wherever they'll fit. No magic."
"No magic? Why in Merlin's name not?" Davis asked.
"Because I'm going to install a proper potions lab in here, and hiring a specialist to scrub the magical residue and ward it will be expensive, and I don't want it to take a second longer than it needs to," Draco said.
"Moving things by hand though? That's house elf work," Davis said, then he muttered, "Bloody bullshite Ministry."
Draco blinked.
"You want to whinge to me about how the Ministry is bullshit?" Draco said, "Think for a second who you're talking to, take a look around."
He waved at the bare stone room, and Davis held up a hand in acquiescence.
"Don't get me wrong. I'm just saying, neither of us would be in this situation if the Ministry wasn't currently in the habit of screwing over purebloods all the time," Davis said.
Draco sneered. Until Davis was mugged and his wand snapped by muggles, he had little sympathy for his relatively pain free struggles.
"Are you over it yet? This 'house elf work' is paid house elf work, and you're on the clock, get to it," Draco said.
Shawn grumbled but did as he was told, while Draco folded his arms and watched for a minute, then strode out under the summer sun to the greenhouses. If he were more paranoid, he would never allow an employee into the Manor and leave them alone, but time was short, and now that he had enough money to hire some help, he certainly wasn't going to break his back moving all those racks himself.
"Besides, it's not like there's much left to steal," he thought.
A few hours later, Draco brought a pair of preserved lunches from the dining room to the cellar. Shawn had actually made decent progress, and they sat across one of the empty wine racks as they shared a Ministry provided 'feast'.
"So, what've you got going on then?" Shawn asked.
"What, the business?" Draco asked.
Shawn nodded as he chewed.
Draco considered not telling him anything, then decided he would find out eventually anyway.
"Besides, I've got the muggle contacts, and without them, nobody's selling much of anything," he thought, "unless… I can't sell to wizards, not right now anyway, but maybe someone else could. Something to think about."
"The plant I'm growing in the greenhouses, when properly cured, creates a relaxing high when smoked," Draco said, "muggles love the stuff."
"Muggles?" Davis asked. He looked like he'd smelled something foul.
"That's right. They have the cash to pay for it, and we can grow it fast," Draco said, "who am I to deny them?"
He smirked.
Davis chewed thoughtfully.
"Hmm. Selling to muggles… I never would have guessed," Davis said.
"Yeah well, don't go blabbing about it, I have my reputation to think about," Draco said. He smirked again at the self-deprecating joke.
"Ha," Davis deadpanned.
"I don't think it's illegal since they don't know there's any magic involved, but I definitely do not need the Ministry snooping around asking questions," Draco added, "so keep your mouth shut."
Shawn nodded.
"Smart of you to do everything on private property then, they can't come in without a warrant," Shawn said, "and that's a pain to get."
"All the same," Draco said. He eyed Shawn Davis again.
"Perhaps having a trained Auror on the team will come in handy," he thought. Draco opened a Ministry provided container of pumpkin juice and raised it.
"Cheers," he said. They clinked flasks.
"After lunch, I'll show you how to infuse the soil," Draco said.
Draco lounged on the couch and stared up at the green tinted ceiling while Tracy wrote her prefect reports. As it was the final Hogsmeade weekend of the year, the common room was deserted except for the two of them.
"It's going well so far," Draco said, "though I could definitely use more help. Know anyone else who might be interested? Aside from Pansy?"
"Daphne will be in town to pick up Astoria, you could ask her," Tracy said as she dipped her quill again.
Draco winced. He could almost certainly use the elder Greengrass' skills in herbology and brewing, but he wanted as little to do with Astoria as possible.
"Of course, you can't hire me and Daphne and not hire Pansy," Tracy said, "she'll take it personally."
Draco sighed and closed his eyes. He could only imagine the kind of havoc a scorned Pansy Parkinson would create.
"I have no idea what she would even be good for," Draco said.
"You'll figure something out," Tracy said. She signed the parchment with a flourish and started rolling it up.
"I'm off to Hogsmeade, are you coming?" she asked.
"As much fun as that sounds, I think I'd rather chew glass," Draco replied.
Tracy rolled her eyes.
"Your jokes have significantly declined in quality and creativity, you know," she said, "come on, it's the last Hogsmeade weekend ever."
"And not a moment too soon," Draco said as he stood up. He noticed she'd stopped to wait for him; perhaps she thought he might actually go with her.
"I'm busy," Draco said, "by chewing glass, I meant endure Theo's presence."
"He's back?" Tracy asked, and Draco felt a twinge of envy at the glint of excitement that passed over Tracy's expression.
"Apparently," Draco said, "I'll see you Monday."
Tracy waved and departed towards the entrance of the castle, while Draco stopped by the kitchens first to pick up a ham and cheese croissant for the road. A short while later, he knocked on the door of Theo's manor and a house elf answered.
"Master Nott is expecting you," it said, "may Muffy take your cane?"
"No. Tell Theo not to keep me waiting," Draco replied.
The elf bowed and vanished as Draco stepped into the foyer. It was exactly as he recalled; the house elves had kept the floors dust free and the furniture polished in Theo's absence.
"There he is, as pasty as ever," Nott said as he rounded the corner. His skin had bronzed handsomely in the Italian sun, and he now sported a small chin strip of dark hair, which gave the stringy wizard a more mature look. He walked right up to Draco, embraced him tightly, then kissed him on the cheek.
"What the fuck Theo," Draco said as he wiped his cheek.
"That's how they do it in Italy," Theo replied, "ah, you really should have come. I've got some stories for you. Blaise says hi."
"I'm sure he does," Draco said as he pulled out a handkerchief and continued wiping his face. Theo ignored him as he led Draco deeper into the manor.
"Let me tell you, Italian witches are a whole other breed, mate," Theo said with a grin.
"Don't tell me, you fucked a veela," Draco said. He folded and pocketed his handkerchief.
"It's possible, I couldn't say for sure," Theo replied with a wink.
Draco closed his eyes and sighed deeply.
"Clearly it's an appropriate time for a drink," he said.
"Thought you'd never ask," Theo said. He turned into the drawing room with the liquor cabinet, the one they'd smoked up in so many months ago, and withdrew two squat glasses and an amber bottle of firewhiskey.
"What've you been up to then?" Theo asked as he poured the spirits into the glasses.
"Well, since the Ministry is apparently, on pain of imminent destitution, intent on moulding me into a 'productive member of society', I'm trying to build a business," Draco said.
"Ah, fascinating," Theo said, "do tell."
Draco knew Theo well enough that it was obvious his friend was not interested in the slightest, and just wanted to make small talk while they drank, probably waiting for his turn to speak in order to regale him with tales on everything he'd missed out on in Italy. Unfortunately, Draco needed him.
"Herbology stuff," Draco said, "I could use your help, actually."
"What, come work for you?" Theo asked as he handed Draco a glass, "I don't think you could afford me."
They clinked glasses and threw back the shots. The potent spirit burned its way down Draco's throat and warmed his stomach.
"Come on, it'll be fun," Draco said as Theo refilled his glass.
"You know what's fun?" Theo replied as his eyebrows waggled, "blind love potions. Imagine a party with a dozen beautiful witches, everyone drinks a potion, and you don't know which one you'll end up with, only that the two of you will be completely infatuated with one another for the evening."
"I… wait, how do they guarantee you'll be matched up with someone and they won't be in love with someone else?" Draco asked.
Theo shrugged.
"I didn't ask," he said.
Draco shook his head; this line of conversation was a distraction.
"Look, it's going to be Tracy, Daphne, and Pansy, all in close proximity with one another for extended periods of time," Draco said, "I need someone to keep them from murdering one another."
Theo set his glass down on a nearby table and feigned consideration.
"You're not selling this job to me very well," Theo said.
"I need your help, Theo," Draco said.
Theo regarded him carefully.
"No," Theo said.
"Come on. Are you going to make me beg?" Draco asked.
"You're really serious, eh?" Theo said, "but here's the rub. I don't have to work, and I don't intend to. Not unless you give me a substantial stake in whatever scheme it is you've got going on."
Theo grinned a Cheshire cat grin. Draco should have expected nothing less. Well, there was no way he'd be parting with a single knut of profit. He'd just have to figure out a way without Theo.
"That is completely off the table," Draco said.
Theo shrugged and took another sip.
"Suit yourself," he said, "how's Auntie Narcissa?"
"Better, thanks for asking," Draco said, "so, where did you visit in Italy?"
"All over. Rome, Florence, Tuscany, Sicily…" Theo said.
Draco nodded as Theo launched into the first of what was sure to be several stories of debauchery and irresponsible risk taking.
"I should have been there with him, not a care in the world. Instead, I'm stuck here trying to pull my family and name out of the gutter," Draco thought. He did his best to turn his bitterness into more fuel to stoke the flames inside him, but it still remained: envy of a friend he once considered almost his equal.
Several hours and drinks later, Draco flooed to Hogsmeade, he dared not apparate while drunk, and made the trek back up to the castle. The late afternoon sun stung his eyes.
"Dinner, and then out to Mary's," he thought.
He hiked up the steps to the entrance and into the Great Hall just as plates started appearing in the centre of the tables. Draco loaded up; he'd eat as much of the free food as he could before heading out. With only a few days left until graduation, he was sure he would miss the elf-prepared meals at some point, and so the past few days he had gorged himself on everything on offer. He finished up and set off, aiming to get to Hogsmeade before dark and meet Mary, but he spotted Professor Winthrop approaching him from the opposite direction.
"Mr. Malfoy, heading off again?" Winthrop asked.
"That's right," Draco said without breaking stride.
"I wanted to speak with you for a moment," the Defence professor said.
"I'm in a bit of a rush, if you don't mind walking and talking," Draco said.
Winthrop fell into step next to him, and dropped a hand into his pocket as they exited the castle and into the overcast late afternoon.
"I noticed you did not attend your Defence NEWT," Winthrop said, "is everything alright?"
"Bugger," Draco thought. He'd been overseeing the installation of the potions lab at the Manor.
"I wasn't going to pass anyway," Draco replied, "short year and all, I had to pick and choose."
"That's unfortunate," Winthrop said, "some of the other staff described you as an unusually bright student."
Draco nearly stumbled, but caught his balance with his cane. While it was true, he had been near the top of his class, he found it surprising that any of the current staff would have anything positive to say about him these days.
"Who could have said that?" he thought.
"I've been busy," Draco said.
"I fully understand," Winthrop said, "it can't be easy, with the reparations and all. I haven't seen you at any of the Wizengamot meetings. I thought, perhaps we might work together, come to a mutually beneficial arrangement."
"He needs my vote for something," Draco thought, "this could prove advantageous. Careful though Draco, there's something off about him."
Draco glanced over at Winthrop and recalled the strange conversation he'd had with Professor Collins, right after Winthrop had visited her, and decided to consider his words very carefully.
"I'm listening," Draco said.
"Stop by my office at the Ministry after graduation, we can speak in private," Winthrop said.
Draco nodded.
"If I have time," he said.
"I wish you the best of luck, Mr. Malfoy," Winthrop said, and he abruptly stopped walking. Draco resisted the urge to look over his shoulder; he didn't particularly feel comfortable leaving the suspicious Defence professor at his back, but the odds of him cursing him in broad daylight were next to nil. Once Draco reached the edge of the wards though, he did turn to look up at the castle, and it took him a few seconds to spot Winthrop in the distance, hiking the last few steps to the courtyard.
Draco looked at the small card, one with an E next to two subjects: Potions and Charms.
"Two NEWTs," he thought. It was fairly pathetic, but after tasting the heart pounding excitement of making some real money on his own, five NEWTs, considered the standard for a highly successful student, seemed somehow superfluous.
Graduation had been a complete waste of time. Through one speech and remembrance ceremony after another, he passed the time by mentally cataloguing the things he would have been doing if he weren't sitting under the late spring sun. Now, he was about to leave Hogwarts forever. He stood at the edge of the courtyard, faced with the final decision of his school career.
"To ride the boats and take the Express again, or not?" he thought.
He could walk to Hogsmeade and apparate or floo to London as he had done dozens of times over the past three months. He definitely could use the extra few hours, but something called to him. His father had ridden the boats back after his graduation, and his grandfathers before that.
"All those muggleborns down there, none of their parents took the boats, why should they go and not you?" Draco thought.
A strong desire seized him. He wanted to take the boat across the Lake again, to ride the Hogwarts Express one last time. There would always be more work, but he would be damned if he cheated himself of this experience. Mind made up, he quick-walked down the steps to the cavern beneath the castle, where the graduates had started to congregate. He gripped his cane tightly and ignored the stares, walked to the farthest boat, stepped into it, and kicked off from the shore. The boat wobbled slightly in the shallow water, but other than that, it just sort of sat there… not moving. A few snickers arose from the other graduates, and Draco felt heat rise to his cheeks.
"The Headmistress is supposed to wish you well, first, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said from the doorway in her infuriatingly calm voice, "if you would care to rejoin the group?"
"I'm comfortable where I am, thank you," Draco replied. McGonagall regarded him for a moment, then apparently decided it wasn't worth trying to bring him back with the others.
She said a few words Draco couldn't quite catch, something about tradition, while Draco bobbed stupidly in his boat with his cane resting across his lap. Then, mercifully, she waved her hands and the little craft propelled itself out onto the Black Lake. Draco squinted as the morning sun fell on him as he led all boats across the water.
"At least I won't have to walk past anyone to get to the train," he thought.
On the way to the station, his mind wandered back to that first night, so full of possibilities and potential… and then how it had all gone wrong, starting with bloody Potter embarrassing him in front of the entire class.
"But that wasn't really where it went wrong, was it?" Draco thought. He remembered the skinny boy who had stood next to him for measurement in Madam Malkin's, before they'd even boarded the train. A golden opportunity to accomplish what Father had tasked him with, and he hadn't even recognized it.
"That was where you fucked it up," Draco thought. He cringed at the way he'd fumbled trying to make allies of his own. He had been eleven, though, doing the best he knew how. Things hadn't really gone bad until the end of fourth year, when the Dark Lord returned. Everything for the Malfoys had gone downhill from there: the botched Prophecy recovery in fifth year, the impossible task to kill the only wizard the Dark Lord himself feared, people being tortured and killed and eaten in his house, Father being sent to prison, and all their wealth confiscated…
As the water lapped at the bottom of the boat though, he started thinking.
"Are you better off now though, after all that?" he thought. At first it seemed like a ludicrous proposition, but the more he pondered it, the more unsure he became.
"If I hadn't gone experienced all that shite, I'd be like Theo, fucking off to Italy or wherever, not a care in the world," he thought. Was that really a way to live though? A life of luxury and zero responsibility or consequence? Then he thought about Director Macmillian, the squib who had been kicked out of the wizarding world and built himself up to become owner of an orphanage that employed people and helped hundreds of unwanted children.
"He went through some shite too, no doubt," Draco thought, "and who would I rather be like, Theo, or Macmillian?"
The boat nudged into the sand at the far side of the Black Lake. He looked behind him at the water with the castle behind it, at the small fleet of boats growing steadily larger, then ahead, to the sharply sloping, narrow path to Hogsmeade Station.
"But at the top is a train, one that will take me where I want to go," Draco thought. He started climbing. At the platform, he found his trunk and cast a featherweight charm on it, then walked to the very rear of the train. As it was farthest from the path, he figured it was the least likely to be crowded. Ideally, he would have sat with Tracy, but she would be with the rest of the prefects, and Draco wanted to interact with as few people as possible. As the whistle sounded last call for boarding, it appeared his plan had worked; the rear of the train was all but deserted, and he had an entire compartment to himself. About halfway through the journey though, he needed to visit the loo. He considered holding it until he reached London, but that only worked for about thirty minutes. Draco slid the door of the compartment open and stuck his head out into the corridor.
"Empty," he thought, "in and out, let's go."
He stood up and, cane in hand, walked to the front of the car to use the small toilet with its flimsy folding door. When he stepped out into the corridor, however, he heard a murmured jinx and reacted on instinct, thrusting his cane out towards the sound. A barely visible shield appeared and absorbed an orange bolt, probably a pus-squirting hex or something similar.
Draco looked over to see Michael Corner still pointing a wand at him.
"Time we settled the score, Malfoy," Corner said, "you're going to pay for what you did to Bell."
"I don't even know what you're…" Draco said, then he remembered, sixth year, the cursed necklace.
"Bloody hell, Corner, you think I had a choice?" Draco said.
"There's always a choice," Corner said.
Draco gripped his borrowed wand as he faced off against the Ravenclaw, then he stopped and slowly put the hawthorn stick back in his pocket.
"You know what, I don't have to take this from you. You want to hex me, go right ahead," Draco said. He held his arms out wide.
A confused look crossed Corner's face, and he hesitated.
"Come on, pretend it's one of those stupid riddles to get into your common room. Or shall I spell it out for you?" Draco said, "We're both of age, and out of school, and I'm a member of the Wizengamot. You send a single jinx in my direction, I'm going straight to Magical Law Enforcement."
Michael Corner narrowed his eyes.
"My word against yours," Corner said, "and who's going to believe a blood supremacist like you?"
"You think I wouldn't pay for a memory review?" Draco asked.
It was a total bluff; Draco didn't have the kind of gold to spare for that, but he was betting Corner didn't know it.
Draco spotted Longbottom approaching from behind Corner.
"Oi, what's going on here?" Neville asked.
"Nothing you need concern yourself with Longbottom, Corner's either going to make a very good decision, or a very bad one," Draco said, "well, what's it going to be?"
Neville sized up the situation and apparently realised Michael was pointing his wand at Draco, who was not holding one. He put a hand on Corner's shoulder.
"Michael… it's not worth it," Neville said.
Corner grimaced, then stowed his wand and shoved past Neville.
"You just watch your back, Malfoy," he called over his shoulder.
Neville stared at Draco for a second.
"If I wasn't staff…" Neville said.
"Lucky for me you are, then," Draco said, "or rather, lucky for Corner. Have a nice life, Longbottom."
He turned around and returned to his compartment, and tried to will his heart to stop pounding.
"If I wasn't staff. Ha," Draco thought, "More like you couldn't ignore that annoyingly righteous hero streak."
He locked the door on his compartment and used the rest of the trip to work out some details of what potions ingredients he needed to stock, and when. Just about the time he finished, the train started to slow down.
"Already?" he thought as he glanced out the window as the London cityscape flashed by.
He stood up and recast the featherweight charm, then moved to the exit of the car. He wanted to be first out to scan the platform. No doubt Astoria would take her time saying goodbye to friends; that left him a small window to find Daphne on the platform and speak with her. Fortune favoured him as he spotted her long blonde plait almost immediately on the crowded platform, near the rear. He hopped off the train just as it stopped moving and lugged his trunk behind him. Draco dodged between parents moving in the opposite direction as they looked for their children, and spotted Daphne again. She looked up from a copy of Witch Weekly just as he got to within ten feet of her, and her eyes lit up in recognition.
"Hey Daph, are you still looking for a job?" Draco asked.
Daphne blinked.
"Good afternoon to you too, Draco," she said.
"Sorry, I don't have a lot of time," Draco said, "long story short, I've started a business. Pansy and Tracy are already in."
Daphne folded the magazine and gave him her full attention.
"Maybe, what kind of work is it?" she asked, but her posture shifted to lean ever so slightly closer to Draco, and he understood that to mean yes, absolutely, she needed a job, desperately.
"Herbology, right up your alley," Draco said, "it's here, in England. Interested?"
"I won't say no to learning more," Daphne said, then she glanced past him, "oh, there's Tory, come say hi?"
Draco winced slightly.
"Rather not," he said, "how long are you in town?"
"Just another day until we portkey back to Berlin," she replied.
"Right… think you could stop by the Manor tomorrow morning?" Draco asked, "I'll give you all the details then."
Daphne nodded. Draco heard Astoria's chatter behind him. He moved past Daphne, picked up his trunk, and apparated directly home.
Draco flattened the letter on his desk and read it again.
"Julia White wants to work for me…" he thought.
He knew she had excellent marks, and was decent at quidditch and duelling as well.
"But she's Granger's friend. Girlfriend. Whatever," Draco thought, "no fucking way am I letting her know a damn thing about what I'm up to."
He tore up the letter and vanished the pieces, then glanced at his watch.
"Better get going," he thought. He apparated to St. Mungo's and stepped into Muggle London, then walked several streets to the sports pub Darren had asked him to meet at. Draco entered into the dimly lit room filled with a dozen television screens, all of them showing the same thing: the pregame show for the Rugby Super League final. Darren waved him over to the bar where he had staked out a spot in front of one of the larger screens. The pub slowly filled up, not to bursting, but to the point some blokes had to stand. Draco started on his second pint.
"This is it mate, the big one," Darren said as they clinked glasses. They had made quite a bit of money on the games the Mercer Killer Bees had won already to make it to this point, but the odds were longest on the championship game, and they stood to make thousands of pounds each if they won. Draco's eyes widened as a picture of Pam's husband flashed on the screen and the commentators started talking about him.
"…the late career resurgence of Michael Baker, out for most of the season with a lower body injury, and there was talk of retirement, but he more than any other player has led the team back from the brink, and they're now just one win away from completing what would be an historic and most unlikely path to the championship," the commentator said.
"No shit…" Darren said. He gave Draco a suspicious glance, and Draco buried his face in his beer.
"That's right Carl, just a few weeks ago they were one loss away from elimination, but through a combination of excellent play and a little luck, they're here against the defending champion Wigan Warriors. Regardless of the outcome of this match, Baker is almost certainly a lock for England in the World Cup this October, and an unrestricted free agent after that," the second commentator said.
They went on to talk about the potential matchups during the game, but Darren just looked at Draco, then silently started watching the game as it got under way.
Draco had started to understand rugby better, but he still didn't grasp all the nuances. It seemed most of the pub was rooting for the underdog, or perhaps they had money on the match just like Darren and Draco. Regardless, he cheered when they cheered, and groaned or cursed the television when the Warriors scored.
Despite several calls that went against them, the Mercer Killer Bees had remained within striking distance, and were down by three points with mere seconds remaining. Suddenly, one of the players broke free and sprinted down the side-line, and Draco jumped up with the rest of the pub.
"Go! Go! Go!" Draco shouted as the audio of the commentators was drowned out by the shouting of dozens of fans.
A defending player ploughed into the ball carrier, but not before he tossed it to a teammate who continued the run.
"Come on!" Draco shouted as the clock ticked down to zero. One more pass before a crushing hit, and the Killer Bee player planted the ball on the white painted tryline at the end of the field. The pub erupted in cheers, and Darren grabbed Draco as they both jumped up and down in celebration.
"You're a bloody genius!" Darren shouted in his ear as beer sloshed onto Draco's shirt. Draco didn't care.
"Eight thousand pounds," Draco thought. Business had just gotten a whole lot more breathing room.
They took a cab to the betting shop where they'd made the wagers. Both of them proudly turned in their stubs and collected a fat wad of bills in return.
"How's about we celebrate?" Darren asked as they exited to the street.
"Dinner with Mary," Draco replied.
Darren made the sound of a cracking whip and looked about to say something when his phone chimed. He glanced at it and winced.
"Yeah," he said as he picked up, "yeah, I'll be right there."
He snapped his phone shut.
"Duty fucking calls," Darren said as he walked towards the street, "rain check on that celebration. But we'll definitely do it."
The dealer pointed at Draco as if to make a promise, then turned around and hailed a cab. Draco caught a different one back to Mary's flat. He passed Bruno on the way down, but the enforcer just nodded at him as he passed; the grim expression on his face told Draco he was headed to 'work', so Draco didn't do anything but nod in return.
He knocked on the door to Mary's flat, and she greeted him with a long kiss on the lips.
"Hey, guess who passed her A-levels?" she asked.
"No kidding," Draco replied in between kisses, "does that mean we get to celebrate?"
"Mm hmm," Mary replied.
She dragged him to her bedroom. Just as she started taking her shirt off, Draco's mobile phone chirped. He ignored it as Mary's bra fell to the floor, but it rang again. He growled, reached into his trouser pocket, and turned it off. Then removed his trousers and threw them across the room for good measure. Draco wanted to tell her about the winnings he'd just made, but he figured that could wait; she wanted sex, and she wanted it now, and he definitely wasn't going to deny her.
He took his time, restrained himself to make sure she finished first, and only once she'd climaxed did he press into her warm wetness. Afterwards, they lay naked atop the covers; the summer heat had definitely arrived and it seemed the best way to cool off.
"So, A-levels done, what's next?" Draco asked.
"I need to enrol in uni," Mary replied, "classes start in September, what about you? Done with school?"
"Yeah, just need to focus on delivering for Martin now," Draco replied. He sat up and glanced at the digital alarm clock on the night table.
"We have reservations for eight," he said, "better get ready."
Mary nodded and stood up to retrieve a bathrobe while Draco watched her naked form.
"I can do this, I can make it work," he thought, "I just have to convince Mother, then… then I could live out here part time at least."
As Mary showered, Draco checked his phone. Two missed calls from Darren and a message.
"Do NOT say anything to anyone about this afternoon. Call me."
Draco pressed the button and Darren picked up almost immediately.
"Hey, are you alone?" the dealer asked.
"Yeah, I'm at Mary's, but she's in the shower and Bruno's out. What is it?" Draco asked.
"Okay, do not mention this to anyone, especially Bruno. The match today, remember all those calls that went against the Bees? There was supposed to be a fix, but somehow it got all fucked up; they weren't supposed to win. Bruno's gone to deal with the refs, but it's obviously too little too late, and Martin is pissed," Darren said, "if he finds out we made money off a game that was supposed to go in the other direction…"
"Shit," Draco said. He moved to crack the door open and keep an eye on the hallway and the bathroom at the far end of the flat while he talked.
"Yeah, and something else blew up too, I don't know what," Darren said.
"Blew up… blew up…" Draco thought. Something stirred in his memory, but he lost the thought as Darren kept talking.
"…pressure is on. You still gonna be able to deliver on schedule?" Darren asked.
"Yeah… yeah shouldn't be a problem," Draco said.
"Good," Darren said, "good. Don't be a chimp, no celebrating."
"I'm not a bloody fool," Draco replied.
"That remains to be seen," he thought, "you do want to bring a muggle to see Mother."
"Right. Got to go, see you Thursday," Darren said, "remember…"
"Yeah yeah, I know," Draco replied, and Darren hung up.
"Merlin's balls Pansy, could you have screwed it up worse if you tried?" Draco asked. Soil and vanilla infusion lay scattered about the floor of the greenhouse, and Draco thought he felt galleons literally falling out of his pocket.
"It's not my fault, it's bloody hot in here, and my wand slipped," Pansy replied.
"What part of 'mix it by hand' do you not understand?" Draco asked.
Pansy's arms crossed in front of her.
"I'm a witch, why should I ruin my skin and nails when there's a perfectly good spell to mix it?" Pansy asked.
Draco looked at her like she was a blithering idiot, and pointed to the wasted infusion and ruined soil. She glared at him. Draco put a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes.
"Fine, go… burp the jars in the cellar," he said, "I'll get Daphne to do the soil infusion."
At some point, he would need to find something for Pansy to do or he'd have to fire her, and then he would need to constantly look over his shoulder for whatever scheme she was sure to come up with to try and get even with him. Draco vanished the ruined ingredients and soil and walked to the next greenhouse. He found Daphne inside, surrounded by a veritable jungle of pot plants; apparently, she had a knack for growing.
"Got a bit carried away?" Draco asked as he pushed an exceptionally large plant to the side.
"Turns out I'm really good at it," she said with a smile.
"Maybe it runs in your family," Draco said.
Daphne stopped and pondered this, as if it was something she'd never considered before, even with the surname 'Greengrass'.
"We need another batch of vanilla infused soil, Pansy's ruined the last one," he said.
"Today?" Daphne asked.
Draco checked his watch then looked around the room.
"I guess it can wait," he said. He was eager to knock off and get over to Mary's.
The following morning, Draco cracked his eyes open and blinked a few times as he stared at the blinds covering Mary's window. Without school to occupy him, he spent his days over the past week or so working on growing as much weed as possible in the greenhouses and curing them in the cellars, and his nights with Mary. Every night as he fell asleep, he thought perhaps, with the amount of sex they were now having, he might start to grow tired of her. Every day around mid-afternoon though, he found himself daydreaming about her naked body, and then having to force himself to think about something else before the bulge in his trousers became too noticeable. He quietly slipped out of bed and dressed in the grey morning light filtering in from the window. The musky scent of their lovemaking still hung in the air, and Draco stopped to watch his girlfriend as she slept amidst the tangled sheets.
"You're absolutely insane, Draco," he thought. Aunt Andromeda hadn't yet reached out to him, but he figured he would give her another week or so before he started pressing her. He crept out of the flat and returned to the Manor.
"Mother?" he called, but there was no response. It took a few minutes to find her, passed out in bed, a nearly empty bottle of sherry on the nightstand.
"Bloody hell," Draco muttered. He needed her to help test the floo connection while the Manor was empty. He picked up the bottle and nudged her with it, and was rewarded with a snore.
"Completely out," he thought. He shook his head then descended to the cellar. Dozens upon dozens of plastic baggies with cured weed sat on tables, ready to be delivered.
"Right, can't apparate back and forth a dozen times without splinching myself, and definitely don't want to get caught going in and out of muggle London with bags full of weed," he thought. He shook his head. He had to get the floo connection working. He returned to the bedroom and pointed his wand.
"Rennervate," he said. His mother started with a jolt, then rolled over to look at him blearily.
"Draco… what time is it?" she asked.
"Time to get up, we have floo work to do and we have to get it done before the employees return on Monday," Draco said. She rolled over and sighed, then sat up. Draco left her to wash up and dress, while he headed to the fireplace he'd been working on. He pulled the old tome from his pouch and started casting a few charms. His experience from repairing the Vanishing Cabinet made the task possible, but that didn't mean it wasn't still extremely difficult. He heard the padding of footsteps behind him and smelled freshly brewed coffee.
"Any progress?" Narcissa asked.
"I think it's twitching," Draco said.
He took a pinch of floo powder from the bag on top of the mantle and tossed it in. The powder sparked and fizzled, but no green flames sprung up.
"Nope… still twacked," he said with a sigh.
He looked at the book, flipped a page, cast a few more charms, then took another pinch of floo powder and tossed it in. This time, the familiar green flames sprung up, and Draco pumped a fist.
"Alright, now the hard part. I'll travel to the other side, give me an hour to get it set up, then try sending something through. Then we'll take turns sending items through, every thirty minutes at the top and bottom of each hour," Draco said, "start with fruits, and then we'll work our way up to animals and eventually people."
Getting the second half of the floo connection working was more difficult than the first, and he spent the entire morning and most of the afternoon at the abandoned muggle home in Tilbury. Eventually, he ran out of floo powder and apparated home.
"Draco, is that you?" Narcissa's voice floated through the Manor.
"Who else would it be, Mother?" Draco replied, "I'm out of floo powder."
"I'm nearly out as well," she said.
"Right, I suppose that's a sign that we've done enough today,," Draco said, "I'll purchase more tomorrow."
His mother didn't respond, but he needed to hurry if he wanted to make it to Gringotts before closing. He counted out a stack of pounds and took the normal floo to Diagon Alley. A few minutes later, he counted the galleons he'd received in exchange, and shook his head.
"Bloody rip off," he thought, "I have got to find a way to make galleons. Maybe Pansy might know some wizards who would be interested in buying some weed… It would be a start."
He smirked.
"And then I could offer cash exchange for muggleborns, undercut the goblins," Draco thought, "wouldn't that be ironic."
Of course, he wouldn't be able to offer direct currency exchanges; the current treaties left all banking services to the goblins, but there were always loopholes. He stopped by Slug and Jigger's to purchase a cauldron's worth of floo powder, then dropped half of it off at home before flooing to St. Mungo's to use their exit to get to muggle London. A tube ride and a short walk later, and he buzzed Mary's flat.
"It's me," he said. He was rewarded with a long buzz that let him into the ground floor vestibule. The flat door was already cracked open when he arrived, and he spotted Mary standing in front of the couch with her hands behind her back and a mischievous grin on her face.
"Surprise," she said as she brought around a small box wrapped in purple paper, "happy birthday."
"What? It's not my…" Draco said, then he realised.
"Holy shit, it's my birthday," he thought, "and Mother didn't even wish me a happy birthday. Then again, she probably has no idea what day it is… why would she?"
Still, the lack of acknowledgement from his mother stung.
"Drake, are you okay?" Mary asked.
"Yeah, just… wow, thank you. How did you know?" he asked.
"It's on your driver's licence," Mary replied.
Draco looked down at the wrapped gift. The fact she'd figured out his birthday and went out of her way to buy a present and wrap it left him completely flabbergasted.
"Aren't you going to open it?" she asked.
Draco unwrapped the paper to reveal a small wooden box. He lifted the catch and opened the lid, and a photograph popped up, a picture of him and Mary taken sometime in late spring, he guessed in May based on the colour of her hair.
"Actually, I remember this… we were both drunk; Alan took this," Draco thought. The picture didn't move, but Draco stared at the two smiling faces for a few seconds just the same.
"I didn't know what to get, and I mean I don't have any money really so…" Mary said.
"I love it," Draco said, "Oh… shit, I don't even know when your birthday-"
"September twenty-seventh," Mary said, "so… you still have some time."
She smirked.
"Well, thank you," Draco said, as he looked at the box again, then closed it up, "it's lovely."
"It's lovely," she mimicked, "still a posh boy at heart."
She reached her arms around his neck and stood on tiptoes to kiss him, and he eagerly kissed her back. The doorbell buzzed and Mary broke away from him.
"I invited Darren and Alan over for cake," Mary said as she buzzed them up.
"You baked a cake too?" Draco asked.
"Uh… yeah, baked. That's it exactly," Mary replied. She went to the fridge to pull out a white carton and a small plastic baggie with some colourful candles in it.
"Ayyyy," Darren said from the doorway.
Draco turned to see him, arms stretched across the doorway, one hand wielding a bottle of vodka.
"Many happy returns, this is from both of us," Darren said as he handed him the bottle.
"Hey Drake, long time," Alan said as he closed and locked the door behind them.
"Just in time guys," Mary said. She lit candles on the cake and set it on the kitchen table. Draco sat in a daze as songs were sung and the candles dripped hot wax onto icing. None of his friends had ever bought him a cake, it had always been Mother.
"Drake, candles," Mary said.
Draco blinked and looked down at the small flames in front of him, leaned forward, and blew them all out to cheers and claps. Mary kissed him on the cheek.
"Did you make a wish?" she asked.
"Oh… fuck," Draco said as he looked down at the smouldering wicks. Mary smirked and started to pull them out and set them aside. Unprovoked, Darren slammed his fist into Draco's bicep, hard.
"Ow!" Draco said.
"It's tradition," Darren said. Draco was about to reply when Alan punched him in the other arm.
"Agh, what the fuck!" Draco said.
"Sorry mate," Alan said, "like he said, tradition."
Draco flexed his hand inside the magical glove.
"I'll find out when their birthdays are," Draco thought, "and then-"
Mary handed a large knife to him.
"Cut the cake?" she said.
Draco vowed revenge, then made two perpendicular slices, neatly quartering the small birthday cake. They tucked in and ate with plastic forks from paper plates. While taste-wise, Draco found the chocolate cake acceptable, the fact Mary had gone out of her way and spent money on him tugged at his heartstrings with each heavenly sugar-laden bite.
Alan produced a deck of cards and shuffled while Mary mixed drinks and Darren rolled joints. They played a relatively simple game that involved commanding other people to drink, and shifting seats after each round. Alcohol flowed and the air grew heavy with smoke as they played and laughed until after midnight.
The following morning, Draco peeled his eyes open and a splitting headache washed over him. He tucked the Fiend back in its cage and guzzled a glass of water left on the night table, then stood up and wobbled over to the window to crack the blinds. The sun had just risen; it was still early morning.
"Right," he thought as he tried to clear his head, "back to work."
He left Mary in bed and stopped by a grocer to purchase a dozen apples, then took the train from London to Tilbury and walked the increasingly familiar winding roads to the abandoned house he was using. He'd cast several notice-me-not charms on it so muggles wouldn't pay it any mind, but he knew that was only a temporary solution.
"It'll be better to buy it eventually, once I have enough cash," Draco thought. He mentally added it to the list of things he needed to figure out how to do. The rear door squeaked as he pushed his way in. No furniture remained, and the wires and pipes had been ripped out, leaving large holes in the walls and floors. A row of cages hosted several hamsters along one wall. Most importantly though, the fireplace was intact. Once inside, he produced a hangover potion from his pouch. Three quick sips and his headache cleared up in a matter of seconds, and Draco got to work. First, he checked on the hamster cages and made sure they had enough water; he'd need the little rodents later. He began his attempt at repairing the floo by throwing apples into the flames, but at first nothing happened. After each try, he went back to work on the enchantments placed on the fireplace. His eyes widened when the first one disappeared. Much like the Vanishing Cabinet, it took several attempts of sending apples through until they started to travel, and several more until they travelled through intact. It wasn't until late afternoon that a burst of green flames spit out a hamster from Malfoy Manor, remarkably unscathed. He and Mother sent it back and forth a few more times, and it apparently was none the worse for wear.
Draco closed his eyes.
"Moment of truth," he thought. He held a pinch of floo powder for just a second, then threw it in and stepped into the fireplace. There were no spoken destinations or twists and turns on this journey; with only one end point, it was a single, infinitely narrow straight tube. He opened his eyes to find himself at home with a concerned looking Mother looking him over, no doubt to ensure he was not missing any body parts.
"I knew you could do it," Narcissa finally said.
Draco smirked.
"That makes one of us," he said.
"This calls for a drink," she said.
Draco paused; he already had his phone in his hand.
"Alright, one drink," Draco said. He texted Darren as Mother vanished into the cellar.
"Free to meet in two hours?"
Darren replied with a single 'Y'.
It was only then that Draco realised he had a problem.
"Shit, how am I going to move the weed from the floo to the warehouse?" Draco thought. He didn't want Darren to know the location of the floo, that was just asking for a Statute breach. He supposed he could call a taxi to ferry it down, but every time he did that, there was a chance that the driver would blab to the wrong person. Ideally, he'd have a muggle car and drive it over himself, but Draco did not know how to drive, and also did not own a car. If he wanted to put them in his pouch, he'd have to separate the baggies out and load them in one by one, then reorganize them all later.
"We'll call that plan B," Draco thought as images of the muggle police finding him surrounded by hundreds of weed-stuffed plastic bags covering every visible surface came to mind.
"Something with a larger opening would do though," he thought, and then it came to him. He took a trip to Diagon Alley to pay Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment a visit. Among the brass telescopes, crystal balls, compasses, and various charts, Draco spotted what he was looking for: a tent.
An hour later, Draco hiked Tilbury's residential streets towards the abandoned warehouse, the magical tent slung across his shoulders. It was heavy, but a lot less conspicuous than gigantic ice hockey bags would be. Inside the warehouse, Draco set up the tent, then carried the weed, four large bags' worth, out and onto the dusty floor.
Darren pulled up just as the light began fading and Draco finished folding the tent and leaned it against the wall.
He stared at the large bags for a second as he crossed the threshold.
"You've been busy," Darren said.
Draco nodded.
"More where this came from," Draco said, "we're ahead of schedule now, if my calculations are correct."
"Yeah, just," Darren said, "Christ, I'm not going to be able to fit all this in the boot."
"It's fine, throw two of them in the back seat," Draco said, "if you get stopped, you're fucked anyway, right?"
"Don't jinx it," Darren said. They loaded the rental car up and closed the rear doors.
"Listen…" Darren said, "Martin's asked for a sit down. Not you, just me and Bruno. Something's up, make sure you don't do anything stupid."
"Like what?" Draco asked.
"Like opening your mouth when it's better to keep it shut," Darren replied as he slid into the driver's seat, "just keep your nose clean until I can figure out what's going on."
The Fiend rattled its cage at the mention of keeping his nose clean, and Draco stuffed it back down and nodded and Darren drove off. Now that that largest delivery to date had been completed, he walked to the train station and returned to London. On the way there, he sent a message to Michael to make sure he was home. A single light was on inside when Draco rolled up. He paid the cabbie and stepped up across the flagstones leading to the front door and rang the bell. Michael, eyes bloodshot with dark circles beneath them, greeted him and ushered him inside.
"What happened to you?" Draco asked as he closed the door behind him.
"Not so loud," Michael said with a wince, "was out celebrating."
"Congratulations," Draco said, "I saw the match, you played well."
"Wouldn't have been possible without that miracle cure," Michael said, "worth every penny." He took a white envelope out and passed it to Draco, who folded it and stuffed it into his jeans.
"There's enough there for both of us," the rugby player said, "Have any more? World Cup is coming."
Draco smirked.
"Have any more friends to introduce?" he asked.
"I'll do you one better," Michael said, "I know an agent who might be interested, works with a lot of football players."
Draco thought about that for a few seconds. He knew the football stars made considerably more than the rugby players.
"Alright, introduce us and we'll see how it goes," Draco said. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small baggie of weed.
"For Pam," Draco said.
"Thanks, she'll appreciate that," Michael said.
Draco's phone rang; it was Darren. He held up a finger and stepped towards the front door.
"Hey," Darren said, "can you talk?"
"Yeah, for a little bit," Draco replied.
"Right, good news, he doesn't know anything about you-know-what," Darren said, "bad news, we need to up production."
"What?" Draco said. He held up a finger to Michael again and stepped out the front door, into the summer night.
"We're already making a bloody ton of the stuff, and we already agreed on the amount," Draco said quietly.
"I know, I know, that's what he's asking for though. That's not all. You remember Konstantinov?" Darren asked.
The image of the dark-haired Russian whose goons had put Mary in the hospital popped up in Draco's memory.
"Yeah?" Draco said.
"His old man's back in town. He and Martin's father cut a deal to stay out of each other's territory," Darren said, "net-net, we lost about a quarter of London."
"That's bullshit," Draco said, then remembered to keep his voice down.
"I don't like it either, but it's not like we have much of a choice," Darren said, "some bad shit's gone down, not sure exactly what but aside from the sports betting, some other scheme he had going has dried up, so Martin's been leaning on everyone hard, and, well, there's still Bruno I guess. He's even more furious though."
"What do you mean?" Draco asked.
"…you don't know?" Darren asked, "Martin made him throw his fight last month, he's been sulking ever since. He promised him a win next time, but it looks like that's off the table again."
Another puzzle piece clicked into place for Draco.
"So, can you do it?" Darren asked, interrupting his train of thought, "increase production?"
"If we're changing the terms of the deal, I want a better rate," Draco said, "he doesn't get to arbitrarily increase quotas whenever the fuck he wants."
"Yeah, I'll see what I can do," Darren replied.
Draco remembered he'd left Michael inside the house.
"I have to go," Draco said, "thanks for letting me know, we'll talk more later."
They hung up and Draco returned inside and found Michael channel surfing in the living room.
"Alright, set up a meeting with your guy, and if something comes from it, I'll get you a discount on the next batch," Draco said.
Michael gave him a thumbs-up. Draco suspected he was about to fall asleep, and he let himself out and called a cab to take him back to Mary's apartment. He called Mary to let her know he was on his way, and he felt a little twinge in his chest at the mere sound of her voice. Draco trudged up the steps and knocked on the door, which Mary opened and smiled at him.
"Look what the cat dragged in," she said, "I made a sundae."
She led him to a large glass filled with vanilla ice cream and chocolate syrup. Frost collected on the side of the glass; she must have had it in the freezer. After the news he'd just received, it was just what he needed.
"You're the fuckin' best," Draco said as he sat down and picked up a spoon.
"I know," she said with her trademark smirk.
They shared the ice cream, and Draco alternated between picking his next scoop and watching Mary as she slipped the spoon into her mouth and swirled it with her tongue. They shared about two thirds of it before Draco gave in and kissed Mary on the lips, and she responded by sucking a large scoop of chocolate syrup off her spoon and kissing him back. The glass was forgotten, and he chased her back to the bedroom. Exhausted from the day, they only went one round before Draco passed out.
The following morning, Draco yawned and padded his way to the living room to see Darren, Bruno, and Mary in hushed conversation around the coffee table. They looked up at him when he entered, and Draco reflexively schooled his features to betray nothing out of the ordinary.
"Hey, how are you feeling?" Mary asked.
He finally had had a good night's sleep, the weed operation was up and running… more or less, and the potions business seemed primed for expansion.
"Brilliant, actually," Draco said, "is there any food?"
A slice of pizza on a paper plate appeared in his hand courtesy of Darren, and Draco started devouring the cold breakfast.
"So, we decided, we're not happy with this new arrangement from Martin's da," Darren said.
"Oh yeah?" Draco replied in between bites. He suspected there was more Darren wanted to say.
"Yeah," Darren said, "money's not worth it anymore, and we think there might be better opportunities out there."
The drug dealer grinned. Draco wasn't sure how to feel, but something warmed him from the inside… or perhaps the pizza was slightly rancid.
"Right,' Draco said, "and what do you want from me?"
"First, keep delivering the weed," Darren said, "and ehh… think of us if there's anything else you want to distribute."
Draco stopped with his mouth about to clamp down on his next bite as he saw Darren's plan, clear as day. He looked at Mary, who stared back at him with a mix of trepidation and hope. They were definitely talking about him while he slept; she must have told them how he had access to special forces drugs and shared with her so she could pass her tests. He looked up at Bruno next, her boxer half-brother who already acted as muscle for gangsters, then back to Darren Welch, the drug dealer who knew everyone. If Draco could supply it, Darren could use his contacts to sell it, and Bruno could act as enforcement, all without Martin O'Donnell or his father; they could keep 100% of the profit for themselves.
"Merlin, they don't know it, but I could use magic to help us along, too," Draco thought.
"Yeah, now that you mention it, there might be something," Draco said slowly as he looked at Mary.
Darren pumped a fist as Mary looked embarrassed.
"I fuckin' knew it," he said, "you've got PEDs that can beat the piss tests."
Bruno seemed to perk up at this, but Draco continued as if Darren hadn't said anything.
"There's going to be some rules," Draco said, "don't mention me to anyone. This stays between us, nobody else knows, especially Martin. And you stay away from those weird fuckers his father is working with. And Sam, that guy is bad news."
"Yeah, don't think you need to worry about that," Darren said as he waved away Draco's concerns, "the whole point is to get our own thing. We're not in it for his damn revolution, you know? We just want to make some money."
"And win some fights," Bruno said.
"Wait, what?" Draco thought.
"Revolution?" Draco asked.
"Martin's father is dead set against Good Friday," Bruno replied.
"Every Friday is a good Friday," Draco said, "you're going to have to be more specific."
Draco's confusion must have shown on his face, because all three muggles rolled their eyes. What followed was a brief history of the IRA, Northern Ireland, Catholics vs Protestants, and the effort to forge a fully independent Republic of Ireland that encompassed the entire island. Draco's head swam with the new information, but the gist of it was Martin's father was a former member of an armed resistance against the British in Northern Ireland, and his leadership had agreed to a peace agreement while he'd privately vowed to continue the fight.
"But it's never going to bloody happen, and I think Martin knows it, but he'll never go against his da," Bruno said.
Given what he knew, Draco had an entirely different opinion.
"If he has Death Eaters and more than one vampire on his side, it just might," Draco thought, "but what's he doing for them? Why would they help each other?"
It didn't make any sense. Death Eaters couldn't stand muggles… Merlin, he couldn't stand muggles until several months ago. Perhaps Sanguini was getting free blood out of the deal, but vampires were often centuries old, and very good at staying fed without being caught, why would he need to work with criminal wizards and muggles?
He shook his head again; it didn't matter, and the sooner he could break away from Martin and get away from all that, the better.
"Alright," Draco said as he stood up, "I'm going to get some stuff, some military stuff, and you'll see how well it works."
"Fuck yeah," Darren said quietly, a greedy, shit-eating grin smeared on his face.
Draco's mind was already working out how long it would take to safely retrieve the potions.
"I'll be back in a few hours," he said.
A quick walk downstairs, then to the Tube, over to the Leaky, a floo home to pick up the potions, then to St. Mungo's, back to the Tube, and a quick walk to Mary's apartment took about ninety minutes.
He stopped in the stairwell as he remembered to pull the vials out of his pouch before reaching the apartment. He was planning to sell literal magical potions to muggles; he couldn't afford to get sloppy. The door was already cracked, letting a thin line of golden light out into the stairwell.
"Hi," he said as he stepped past the threshold and closed the door behind him. The muggle trio looked up from where they lazed on the couch while the telly continued to display advertisements.
"Right, this one, err… soldiers use it to strengthen their muscles for a short time," Draco said, "and this one boosts endurance."
He set them down on the coffee table as he listed them off.
"And these two Mary knows already, this one is for memory, and this one is for concentration," Draco said.
Bruno picked up one of the bottles and held it up to the light, where the engraved SAS symbol was visible on the side.
"That stuff really is military, and doesn't show up on piss tests?" Bruno asked, "does it have any side effects?"
Draco shook his head.
"Not really," Draco said, "you can't use it too often or you won't be able to concentrate or remember things without it. Same thing with the strength and stamina drugs, your body gets used to them. Other than that, I'm sure there's a lot of people who could use something like this."
"You're right," Darren said, already scribbling notes on a piece of paper, "any limits to how much you can uhh, procure?"
Draco shook his head.
"I mean… it'll take time if we need a whole lot," he replied as he thought quickly, "need time to cover tracks and make up inventory counts, that sort of thing."
"Just how useful are they?" Darren asked as he looked at Mary.
"It really fuckin' works," Mary said, "it's like a miracle drug."
"Mary took full-strength doses, to help with her A-levels," Draco said, "but I'm thinking we dilute it… we can sell more, and also make it less obvious people are cheating."
"Yeah, yeah, good thinking," Darren replied, still writing, "you able to get anything else?"
"Well… mostly umm… drugs, to promote… healing, and these for strength and endurance, stamina recovery, that sort of thing. Useful drugs for soldiers, you know?" Draco said, "I've already got something cooking with a pro athlete, but of course the more people we could sell to, the better. Oh, and one that helps with hangovers."
Darren nodded.
"No shit. Okay, I have a few connections, let me set something up," Darren said.
Bruno cleared his throat and picked up two of the bottles.
"You sure these beat the piss tests?" he asked.
"Pretty sure," Draco said, "we'd have to test them ourselves to be sure."
Bruno grunted.
"Right, assuming it does, we should talk about how we're going to split this up," the enforcer said.
Draco nodded and mentally cracked his knuckles to prepare for negotiation.