Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Chapter 53

"For achievement and endeavour beyond the ordinary, the Ministry recognises Draco Lucius Malfoy with this Order of Merlin, Second Class," Percy Weasley said.

Draco struggled to remain still as he tolerated the uncomfortable sensation of someone standing behind him, close enough he could hear Fawley's breath as the Head of Magical Law Enforcement affixed the medal about his neck. The weight of it settled at the top of his chest, but felt like ashes. She stepped around him and they posed for the cameras, her slender hand cool in his as flashes went off. He didn't bother to focus on anyone in particular, and the press remained blurred to his vision. Recognition from the Ministry, somewhat of a recovery of his family's standing, but the cost… the cost had been far too high. The weight of Mary's lifeless body came to him again, and Draco folded up the memory neatly and tucked it into a bureau in his mind to keep from having a complete breakdown for the photographers of the Prophet and several other newspapers.

"Mr. Malfoy! Mr. Malfoy!"

He forced a smile to his face. They seemed like a sea of tiny rabid dogs with their enchanted self-inking quills and parchment, all yipping for some attention.

"Have you been working with the Ministry all along?"

"No," Draco replied.

"Harry Potter made the arrest, are you part of the Sevens?" another reporter asked.

"No," Draco replied.

"But you are working with Lieutenant Potter? How did you find Rastaban Lestrange?"

Draco took a deep breath and paused.

"As part of my probation, I was sentenced to work with the muggles," he said, "Quite by chance, I stumbled upon a likely Death Eater hideout in muggle London and immediately notified the authorities. It's what any responsible citizen would have done."

He was such a fraud, lying and putting on a show for the press, for the Ministry, for everyone. They were still shouting questions at him, but everything blended into frenetic buzzing as flashes dazzled his eyes.

"No more questions, I will make myself available for an interview at a later time," Draco said.

He stepped off the podium and pushed through the reporters, towards the Atrium.

"I've got to get out of here," he thought.

He flooed straight home and stripped off his outer robes as he climbed the steps. The medal dropped absently on top of the dresser in his room with a loud clatter. A quick change into a jogging suit, and he was out on the grounds, under the overcast autumn sky. The leaves had turned, and a cool breeze ruffled his hair as he ran. In the back of his mind, the Fiend enticed him to reach out to Darren and purchase a canister of coke, or perhaps an entire bag.

"Surely he'd have acquired some by now," Draco thought. He picked up the pace, kicking his legs up higher to try and escape the impulse, until his trainers pounded the dirt and his lungs burned with every breath.

As much as his fitness had improved, he couldn't outrun the Fiend; it was always there, and Draco had started to suspect it always would be. As he continued running through the woods across his property, his thoughts turned to Mary, as they often did.

"If I'd only brought her with me, or connected the floo up earlier… or even helped Potter with the Death Eaters or gone to see the goblins first and then to Daphne's and Blaise's…" he thought, "or if I'd headed home to check in, instead of wandering around Zurich for the day…"

Around and around the invasive thoughts went, and Draco's steps faltered as he coughed, halfway between an out-of-breath pant and a desperate sob.

"It's also possible you could have done any of those things and she still would have died. You saved her from an overdose once… if it wasn't for you apparating her to the Manor and pouring potions down her throat, she would have died that night. Maybe she was meant to die that way," he thought, "Prophecies can be made about wizards… can a muggle's future be foretold the same way? Is there any point to anything we try to do?"

He bent over, hands on knees as he tried to catch his breath, and he spotted a small beetle crawling through the moist dirt, beneath and around fallen leaves. Did Fate bring him here to this spot in the path just as it crossed? Was it fate for this bug to die under his heel?

"Stop. You're going to drive yourself mad if you keep thinking like this," he thought. He left the bug to its task.

Breathing heavily with sweat beaded on his brow despite the chilly air, he walked slowly back towards the house until the ruined fountain came into view. He kicked a piece of broken stonework through the grass as he approached.

"Ball's coming, better fix this," he thought.

With a few waves of his wand, he restored the stonework to more or less the way it was supposed to look, a pair of angelic creatures spewing water from their mouths, wings open and stretched towards the heavens. Draco stepped into the Manor, took a shower, dragged fresh clothes over his damp arms and legs, then opened the box Mary had made for him. He studied the picture for a few moments, then picked up his wand.

"Indissolubile," he said, fortifying it and the box and the photo with an unbreakable charm.

He set it on his night table, then thought about it again and tucked it into his mokeskin pouch.

"No need for Mother to get any ideas, or vanish it," he thought.

"Draco?" a voice called from downstairs. Theo.

Draco threw on a robe and picked up his cane to meet his friend. He spotted Theo from the grand staircase, holding up a copy of the evening's Prophet.

"Order of Merlin, Second Class," Theo said loudly, "look who's Britain's new hero."

Draco gave him a withering stare.

"Fine, perhaps not hero, but I wager they won't turn you away from Christine's anymore," Theo said, "That's an improvement, wouldn't you say?"

"What are you doing here, Theo?" Draco asked.

The other pureblood waved the paper about.

"I'm here to celebrate, obviously. Where's Auntie N? Surely she's proud of you. Merlin, even your old man would have been proud of this," Theo said.

"Pff. Father would have asked why it wasn't First Class," Draco replied.

Theo rolled his eyes.

"Well Draco, I'm proud of you, come on, let's celebrate," he said again as he climbed the steps and threw an arm over Draco's shoulders.

"Shove off, bloody wanker," Draco replied with a smirk as he removed his friend's arm.

"What's wrong with you? I thought you'd be shitting snidgets over finally getting something out of the fuck-tards at the Ministry," Theo asked.

Draco shook his head. While Theo may have dropped by with the intention of celebrating, Draco knew he was full of shite about the reason; Theo wasn't proud of him, and he now studied Draco's expression studiously.

"Fine, you don't want to drink, maybe we can talk about what the bloody hell you were doing in a Death Eater mudfucking den," Theo said, "and don't try to play it off like that's not what it was."

"Should have accepted the offer to drink myself into oblivion," Draco thought.

Theo crossed his arms.

"I know they want to kill you, and I know you're not stupid," he continued, then paused, "rather, you're not that stupid, most of the time. Come on, why in Merlin's name would you be close enough to Aurors and Death Eaters to get hit by the crossfire and end up in St. Mungo's?"

"How'd you find out about that?" Draco asked.

"Word gets around," Theo replied with a shrug, "honestly, how long have we known each other?"

Draco started walking down the stairs.

"One of the girls you saved is yours, isn't it?" Theo asked.

Draco stopped and turned around to look up at Theo as he leaned casually against the banister.

"You're not actually thinking about keeping a muggle girlfriend, are you?" Theo asked. His friend's lips smirked, but his eyes bored into him, watching every motion.

Could he tell him? Theo, his closest friend… they'd known each other since before they could walk. If he couldn't tell Theo, who could he tell? Blaise?

"How long have we known each other?" Draco thought, echoing his friend's words just now. Did Theo already know the truth, and only wanted Draco to admit it? Or was that just his wishful thinking?

"It really doesn't matter one way or the other anymore, does it?" Draco thought.

He looked up into his best friend's eyes, sniffed, and shook his head.

"Nah. 'Course not," he said dismissively, and it felt like a dagger to the heart. He compartmentalized furiously to keep from breaking down in tears.

Theo unfolded his arms and stepped down.

"Good, I was about to have you committed to St. Mungo's," he said as he arrived at the step where Draco stood, "now you have to at least have one with me, if not for the award, then a toast to the success of the Fall Ball. It's tradition."

Draco sighed deeply.

"Fine," he said, "one drink."

Theo smiled and clapped him on the shoulder.

"That's more like it," he said as they descended towards the cellar.

Draco didn't feel like one drink. He felt like having none, or several more than was advisable, but he wouldn't. He knew he would do exactly what was expected of him, because he was Lord Draco Lucius Malfoy. He knew how to act as others expected, even if he was dying inside.

Draco ducked the chaos of contractors and enchanters assembling furniture and decorating the ballroom, and into his office, where papers and parchment he had ignored over the past two weeks had accumulated until the stack threatened to fall over. All of the noise from outside magically silenced as the door clicked shut, and he sighed as he observed the slightly leaning stack of paperwork.

"You're going to have to resume being a functional wizard at some point," Draco thought. The pain of Mary's death was still raw enough to bring tears to his eyes when he unpacked it and let it free from its compartment, but it wasn't the overwhelming, all-consuming grief it had been at first.

"Wonder how much more I can pack away before I go mad," he thought as he re-tucked the experience of Mary's passing into another corner of his mind, far away from the Fiend.

He started with the top of the stack, signed the orders to pay final taxes on the European property sales, then double checked the computer-generated statement from Wentworth and his investments into the muggle telecom sector. He signed the transfer of gold from Gringotts to Wards and Walls, for the setting up of the temporary wards for the ball, then moved on to the Fall Ball itinerary. He gave it only a cursory glance; with Mother and Aunt Bella both working on it, there was no doubt there would be very few deviations from tradition, if any.

First Dance, Lady Malfoy & Minister of Magic, Lord Malfoy & Junior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic.

"Lovely," he thought as he signed both copies of the schedule and rolled one of them up to be owled to the Ministry, "wonder if they appointed some 'lucky' witch just for this occasion."

The thought of sharing a dance, even one hidden behind a mask, with anyone but Mary turned his lips down in a sneer. He wasn't sure if he preferred someone young and pretty or old and fat, and came to the conclusion that it didn't much matter… he didn't fancy dancing with anyone.

"Nothing for it Draco, it's tradition," he thought, "you're going to pick up your chin and get on with it, and you're going to look fantastic doing it. Half the point of this ball is to show everyone else how it's done, the pureblood wizarding way."

He kept working his way through the stack, signed off the potion expenses, which had inexplicably increased by over twenty percent over last month.

"I'll have to talk to Tracey about that one," he thought.

He moved to the final envelope, one from the Ministry. Inside, he found an official DMLE document, signed by both Fawley and Winthrop, outlining proposed amendments to his probation in response to services rendered.

"Reduction in Mother's sentence for each Death Eater I help lead them to, with more for capture," he thought, and his eyes widened, "plus reparations cut in half if I lead them to Rookwood."

He didn't even bother to try and counter offer. With Rastaban Lestrange already caught, if he could lead them to just two more Death Eaters, Mother could be done with her house arrest by the end of the year. With the revenue rolling in from both the magic proof pouches and the weed and potions across all Britain, plus more to come soon from Europe, a reduction in the reparations would merely be a fortuitous bonus at this point.

He set his quill back in the inkwell and bound up all of the outgoing parchment. He flooed over to the public owlery, got them all sorted and sent off to their respective recipients, then returned home to find the elderly ward specialist, Mr. Winters, waiting for him. Wispy white hair stirring in the breeze of the open door, a cup of tea in one hand and a leather satchel at his feet, Winters turned to face him as he approached.

"Mr. Winters, thank you for coming over," Draco said, "I hope you haven't been waiting long."

"No issue at all. Every minute is chargeable, after all," Winters replied as he set the tea down on a nearby table and picked up his satchel.

Draco grimaced.

"Let's get to work then. If you'll follow me," he said as he gestured towards the paths.

Draco circled around the Manor, showing Winters where guests would be permitted and where they would not.

"We'll need to keep people off the grounds except for the path from the gate to the Manor, except for a few individuals who still require access," Draco said as circled back towards the fountain, "I'll show you which rooms inside need to be sealed off."

As he moved to step up to the double doors though, someone called his name. He turned to see Daphne trotting over from the direction of the greenhouses, sleeves still rolled up to her elbows.

"Could I have a word?" she asked as she approached the steps.

"This will only take a moment," Draco said to Mr. Winters, "step inside and we'll continue shortly."

The elderly ward specialist nodded and entered into the foyer while Draco stepped down to the path.

"We need more soil infusion," she said quietly.

"For which flavour?" he asked.

"Err, all of them," she said.

Draco's mouth dropped open.

"How much have you grown?" he asked.

"I found a more powerful spell, one that works on more than one plant at a time, and I've gotten better at casting it," she said as she inspected her nails, "must be in my blood. Greengrass, like you said."

Draco shook his head. It was a good problem to have, after all.

"By the way, are you planning to actually get that floo set up?" she asked, "my uncle's been asking."

"Yeah yeah, international portkey scheduled this afternoon," Draco replied. Daphne nodded.

"Also, Shawn is here, looking for you," she added.

Draco glanced over his shoulder, into the Manor.

"Tell him I'll be over in a few minutes," Draco said.

Daphne nodded and returned to the path leading to the greenhouses, while Draco followed Winters into the Manor. The old man picked up his satchel and followed Draco as he showed him where people would be allowed to go, and where wards should restrict their passage.

"This room is off limits. This one too. People can go onto the grand staircase but nobody is allowed in any of the bedrooms. Nobody goes into the cellars," Draco said as they wandered.

"What about the wine?" Winters asked.

"We'll use these two rooms as makeshift larders," Draco replied.

Winters nodded.

"I think that's enough to get started," the old man said as he produced a ward stone from his satchel, "how shall I find you if there are any questions?"

"I'll be here and there," Draco said, "if not, you can speak to my mother. You'll find her either in the ballroom overseeing the enchantments or between here and there, with furniture installation."

"Very well," Winters replied.

"Don't forget to brew more soil infusion," he thought as he descended the steps.

He exited to overcast sky and eschewed a warming charm despite the raw autumn air. As he approached the greenhouses, he spotted Pansy and Shawn standing around near the Filcher paddock. Shawn inspected the palm of her hand, stroked it a few times and nodded.

"What the bloody hell?" Draco thought.

"Davis, shouldn't you be selling something?" he asked as he approached.

They both looked up and a look of alarm crossed Pansy's face before she schooled it.

"Relax boss," Shawn said as he produced a folder from a cloth bag, "just signed another one for five hundred."

"Hmm, good," Draco said as he leafed through the contract, "I need you to brew up some soil infusion for Daphne, all flavours. I have something to take care of, and then after that, I'll join you."

"Not sure I should. I don't get paid commission for brewing potions, after all," Shawn said.

Draco's temper flared from his chest as he looked up and took a breath to tell Davis off, but Shawn suddenly saluted and trotted towards the Manor.

"Wanker," Draco thought.

Draco swallowed his tirade and waited a moment for Shawn to get out of earshot, then turned to Pansy.

"What in the bloody hell were you doing just now?" Draco asked.

"Feel my hands," Pansy said as she held one out for Draco. He humoured her and ran his fingers over her palm and fingers.

"Soft and smooth, right?" she asked.

"Those would make for an excellent handjob," he thought, and then immediately grew disgusted with himself for even considering something like that so soon after Mary's death.

He stared at her pug nose and put a questioning expression on his face.

"It's the essence of snail slime we're using to harvest the Filcher plates," she said with a smile.

Draco closed his eyes with a sigh and put three fingers on the side of his forehead.

"I'm glad you're happy," he said, "can you try to make sure the Filchers are happy too?"

He motioned to the small wooden fence where a dozen of the odd creatures wandered about, occasionally bumping into the wards.

"Yeah, yeah, they're fine," she said, but she started filling a trough with live crickets all the same. The creatures bustled over to start sucking them down.

Draco walked the path towards the Manor.

Nice tat.

"Fuck," he thought as his breath hitched.

You're on my swing, so if anyone should leave, it's you.

"Maybe I should've," Draco thought.

He made it into the Manor and his cane thumped against newly carpeted floors as approached the door to the cellar housing the potions lab. Cauldrons bubbled and the distinctive scents of peppermint and apple wafted up from where Shawn hovered over a pair of cauldrons. He waved without looking up from the brews.

"I'm heading out," Draco said, "finish these up and get them over to Daphne, then brew some more tomorrow. I'll be by the day after, or maybe later this week; you and I have a special project to work on."

Shawn again waved without looking up to indicate he'd heard, and Draco retreated to the library. He went straight for the old tome with the floo schematic, stuffed it into his pouch, then made his way to the Ministry for his International Portkey.

An hour later, he arrived at Daphne's mum's cottage in former East Germany and got to work enchanting the fireplace. It took the better part of the afternoon, but with the schematic available to reference, Draco found the charm he'd been missing. After one extremely awkward dinner with Daphne's mum to pass time until after the contractors had left the Manor, he was able to test the floo with Mother. A gerbil went through and returned unscathed, and Draco took a deep breath, then threw the powder in again.

He squeezed through an infinitely narrow passage and emerged into his home at Malfoy Manor, a bit of soot on his shoulder and hair but otherwise unscathed. His mother, her robe uncharacteristically wrinkled in the front, gave him a weary smile.

"I knew you could do it," she said.

"That makes one of us," Draco said, "is everyone gone?"

She nodded.

"As am I," she said with a stifled yawn, "we'll have to test the other one tomorrow."

Draco nodded as she turned to retire to bed.

"How are the preparations for the Ball going?" he asked.

"Well enough," she replied over her shoulder, "bag is in the cellar."

Draco let her go, and found the enlarged duffle bag filled to the brim with flavoured weed. He picked it up and returned to Daphne's mum's home via the newly enchanted fireplace. She'd left a dim lantern for him, and he dropped the bag of weed next to the fireplace.

"Mrs. Greengrass," he said, and a moment later, her bedroom door opened to reveal her, already dressed for bed in a purple nightgown.

"I don't mean to impose, but do you mind if I stay in Astoria's room again tonight?" he asked.

"Not at all," she replied with a yawn, "my uncle should be here first thing tomorrow, and it's best if you're here when he arrives."

Draco nodded and brought the lantern to his old fiancee's room, locked the door, doused the light, and collapsed into her vacant bed. Alone with no chance of interruption, he closed his eyes and let the memories of Mary out of their box. He lay in Astoria's bed but spared her not a single thought, as he relived the times he'd spent with Mary, both the good and the bad, until sleep took him.

A knock startled Draco from slumber. He rubbed his eyes and squinted at the grey morning light filtering in between the window curtains. He reached for his wand to hit himself with a quick vanity charm to smooth his hair out, threw on a simple dark blue robe, then exited Astoria's room to find Verner Udet standing near the entryway, speaking quietly with Daphne's mum.

"Ah, I see we have success," he said, German accent thick but understandable. He nodded towards the large bag by the fireplace.

Draco crossed the living room to shake his hand.

"I've no doubt you'll find the goods to your expectation," Draco said.

Udet smiled and reached into his pocket, then pressed a pouch into Draco's hand.

"You may count, it is all there," Udet said.

"I'm sure it is," Draco said as he tucked the leather pouch into his inside jacket pocket, "let Daphne know when you need a new shipment, I'll ferry it over."

"That I will," Udet said.

They shook hands again, and Draco held on a moment longer.

"If this works out, I'd like to discuss further with you, some of your other business," Draco said, "I think there may be opportunities in Britain."

Udet smiled again at that.

"Certainly, let me know. If you are interested, we can come to an arrangement," he said.

Draco nodded, and the German hefted the extra-large duffel bag.

"How are you going to move it? You can't apparate, it ruins the flavour," Draco said, "can't shrink it either."

"Do not worry, I have brought transportation," Udet replied with a grin.

Draco and Mrs. Greengrass followed him out of the cottage to find a large car, nearly the size of a van, had been parked on the gravel path. With a large bonnet and a silver grill in the front, it looked like something out of an old film Draco had seen at Mary's.

"Mercedes," he thought as he recognised the three-pointed star symbol on the front.

Udet dropped the bag into the rear seat, then stepped into the driver's side.

"Until next time, Mr. Malfoy," he said, "Cordelia."

He closed the door with a whump, and the engine turned over and rumbled to life. Draco's eyes widened as the car collapsed on itself, much the same way as the Knight Bus did, then zoomed off, spraying pebbles against the trees and shaking leaves as it accelerated away into the early morning light.

"Showoff," Mrs. Greengrass muttered as she turned around to head back inside.

"I never considered that," Draco thought as he filed away the option of enchanting a muggle car or motorcycle with something akin to the Knight Bus, for his personal transportation.

The following day, he took another International Portkey to drop in on Blaise to set up the second floo, in a disused room on the second story of the villa. The enchanting went much faster than the first one, but when Draco returned with the bag of weed, he found Leana Zabini leaning against the doorway. She wore a spaghetti strap floor length dress, and the off-white fabric made for a striking contrast against her dark hair and dusky skin. She murmured a word to Blaise as he departed with the bag, then smiled at Draco.

"Does this mean I could visit Malfoy Manor whenever I wish?" she asked.

"Ah, no. The wards will stop you, just like any other floo," Draco replied.

"That's too bad," Mrs. Zabini said, though she remained in the doorway for a moment, "have you seen your aunt recently?"

"Which one?" Draco replied cooly.

"Bellatrix," Leana said, "is it true what they're saying?"

Draco kept his expression neutral.

"I'm not exactly sure what they're saying. I've only seen her once or twice," he replied, "she's visited Mother several times though."

"Is she alright?" Leana asked.

"Aunt Bellatrix? As far as I can tell," Draco replied, "why the concern?"

"She and I roomed together at Hogwarts. We rarely spoke afterwards, for obvious reasons," Mrs. Zabini said, "it might be good to reconnect."

"I suppose," Draco said as he considered the implications, then decided he didn't have time to puzzle it out right now, "I can't stay, I have another appointment. I'll mention you to Aunt Bella the next time I see her, though you're probably better off speaking with Mother first."

"And that way she can help figure out what the fuck you're up to," Draco thought.

"I will," Blaise's mum said, and blew him a kiss, "ciao."

She turned on her heel vanished from the doorway, and Draco flooed back to the Manor, left the two pouches of galleons on Mother's night table to pay for the Fall Ball and the renovations, then apparated to Diagon.

He pushed open the door of the Welcome Wagon to see Tracey behind the register, along with a young wizard with shoulder length black hair tied back in a small ponytail.

"The former Snatcher," Draco thought, "what the fuck was his name… Enema? No that can't be right."

Tracey looked up and raised an eyebrow as he entered.

"Morning Draco, you just missed register training for Anama," Tracey said.

"Bloody hell, are you that obviously wearing your thoughts on your face?" he thought.

"Good morning, Mr. Malfoy," Anama said, "thank you for the opportunity. I promise I won't let you down."

"He out of Azkaban on probation," Draco thought. The walking-on-eggshells temperament was one he understood well.

"Right," Draco said as he cleared his throat, "I might pay your wage, but Davis will write your evaluation reports, so you'd better make her happy."

The new hire nodded emphatically.

"Why don't you on head back and stock the shelves, like we went over this morning," Tracey said.

Anama nodded again and trotted towards the back room.

"Is it just the one?" Draco asked quietly.

"There were only two applicants, and the other one was a pixie," Tracey replied with a shrug.

"Bloody hell, there should be dozens of out of work Slytherins and Snatchers, what in Merlin's name is going on?" he said.

"I don't know. Economy is definitely picking up, maybe we need to offer more pay," Tracey said.

Draco pulled a face.

"Keep trying," he said, "we'll only raise rates as a last resort. I'll see if I can find out where everyone is working. Speaking of which, expenses were through the roof last month."

Tracey grimaced.

"Some of the reagents we need are in short supply," she said, "I even had to go to Knockturn to buy a few."

"Some, not all?" Draco asked. If business had grown large enough to create shortages of potions supplies, the Ministry could catch on to what he was up to.

"That's right, it's not because of us," Tracy replied. She'd already come to the same conclusion, "I tried figuring out what it is, but the ingredients didn't make any sense."

Draco nodded. Still, they needed to be careful…

"Hmm," Draco said, "I guess we could try growing some… other than that, we don't have much of a choice, and we're still making a tidy profit, even with the higher costs. Keep going for now and let me know if anything else turns up, or if you can't find something critical."

Tracey nodded just as a clatter of boxes reached their ears, followed by a muffled curse.

"I'd better see to this," she said.

Draco let her do her job and returned to the Manor. He descended the stone steps into the cellar where he found Shawn still hard at work brewing for Daphne.

"We need to finish this batch quickly, then I need your help with a magical trial," he said.

"The new pouch?" Shawn asked.

Draco nodded.

With two of them working together, they finished up the large batches of soil infusions and Shawn ran them over to Daphne, while Draco set up in another cellar. Various jars lay spread out on the table, while Draco mixed the various reagents together with a mortar and pestle until they fused into a smooth, pasty white, poultice-like substance. Looking very out of place next to all the magical ingredients rested a pair of fully charged mobile phones and a roll of muggle aluminium foil. Draco looked up as Shawn descended the steps.

"Where's the pouch?" Shawn asked.

"This is the pouch," Draco said as he gestured to the items on the table, "The idea came to me last week."

"While I was semi-conscious, drunk and high off my arse," he thought.

Shawn looked confused.

"Don't worry about it, I'm going to make it, but I can't do it alone. You'll need to cast and hold a disillusionment on the foil and cataplasm, when I say," Draco said.

"Like catching frozen niffler," Shawn said as he drew his wand.

Draco set the poutice down, tore off a large sheet of aluminium foil, used his wand to blacken a rune onto it, then picked up a silver knife to spread the poultice evenly over the thin metal sheet.

"Alright, now," Draco said. Shawn waved his wand and the foil and paste slowly faded from view, revealing the table beneath. Draco picked up a new mobile phone and placed it in the centre, then wrapped it up tightly in the disillusioned poultice-lined foil. He pressed it into the nooks and crannies of the device as he moulded the invisible magical mixture onto the shape of the phone, but the phone itself stayed visible.

"Bloody weird, why is the phone not turning invisible?" Shawn asked as he kept his wand pointed.

"Filcher plates were a main ingredient," Draco replied, "it's actually what we want."

Demiguise hair would make the entire phone vanish, which in most cases would be more useful, but not for what Draco had planned.

"Probably don't need as much next time," Draco thought as the paste squished out between his fingers, "that should be good enough."

He set the phone down and aimed his wand.

"Coniungo," Draco said.

He felt rather than saw the invisible foil absorb the paste and sink into the phone.

"You can let it go now. That's one," he said, "one more to go."

They repeated the process with the second phone.

"Right, follow me," Draco said. He led Shawn out of the cellar and to the recently repaired fountain, then used one of the test mobiles to call the other. It chimed in his hand, and he set it to speaker as he spoke through the first one.

"Shawn Davis is a wanker," Draco said, and his voice issued out of the other one. Shawn smirked, and then his eyes widened.

"Hang on…there's no more pouch?" he asked.

Draco smirked.

"We'll see. Time for the moment of truth," he said as he closed the phone and held it out to Shawn.

"Apparate to Diagon," he said, "I'll call you there."

Draco drew his wand and apparated to the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron with a loud crack, ready to drop the phone if the battery started sparking or burning in his hand. He arrived in the chilly autumn air and he grinned when the phone remained intact. He gave Shawn a moment to clear the wards and apparate, then pressed the call button. It rang once, then Shawn picked up.

"Draco?" Shawn said.

"Who's a bloody genius? It worked," Draco said with a triumphant grin. He resisted the urge to start dancing in the street, and turned to apparate back to the Manor, phone still connected.

Shawn hiked up from the gate a moment later.

"Merlin's balls, that's brilliant," Shawn said as he stared down at the magic resistant mobile phone.

"It's good, but it's not perfect," Draco said, "production is going to be a pain in the arse. It took both of us this long to make two, and neither of those spells are easy."

"Charge more for them," Shawn said.

Draco waved his hand.

"I've got a better idea," he said, "we're not going to build them at all. I'm going to register this patent, and then we're going to license it out so other people can build it. We'll supply the raw materials."

"Alright… and you want me to sell the licenses," Shawn said with a gleam in his eye.

"Yeah. We'll make it relatively cheap to start, but they'll expire after an introductory period, then we'll raise the prices once they realise how much money they can make," Draco said, "between now and the ball, I want you to take these phones and hit every shop in Britan and Ireland, then I want you at the ball, pitching to the Beings, and anyone international."

Shawn nodded slowly.

"I get it… and the Ministry would be working for us then," he said, "you're going to get them to enforce the patent and crack down on unlicensed production, rather than chase it down ourselves."

"Hadn't thought of that but he makes a good point," Draco thought, "I'll be able to win damages in court, too, all legally."

The thought of sending Saint Potter to arrest his future competition was certainly appealing.

"Anyway, shouldn't be too hard," Shawn said, "not with a demo like that. I don't have an invitation to the ball though."

"It's being held at my bloody house, I'll make sure you have an invitation," Draco said, "you make sure you have an appropriate outfit and mask, and that you're ready to make some sales. I'll be there too; we'll double team them."

Shawn waved the two mobile phones and pocketed them.

"I'll let you know if they twack themselves between now and then," he said.

"Actually, come to think, let's use up the rest of the poultice today and make some more, just in case," Draco said.

He spent most of the following day documenting the procedure to brew the poultice and the mini-ritual to bond the mixture and the aluminium foil to a phone, then double checked the application. He apparated to Diagon late in the afternoon and went over it with the solicitor at Tilworth and Jones just before closing, with the promise they would file it with the Ministry first thing tomorrow morning. It was a short walk to the entrance of Knockturn and the renovated property he owned there. As he approached, the shadows elongated slightly from an alley, and suddenly Sanguini stood between him and his destination. Draco stopped mid-stride, cane held slightly in front of him.

"I was hoping I'd see you tonight," the vampire said, hands clasped in front of him.

Draco looked at the vampire's polished shoes to avoid his eyes.

"Can't say the same," Draco replied, "what do you want?"

"Conversation, in private," Sanguini replied.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure you can ask here, without coming any closer," Draco said. He chanced staring at the vampire's robes to at least get an idea of his expression through his peripheral vision.

"I'd prefer not to," Sanguini said.

"I'm bloody starving, so I'd prefer to get something to eat, but here I am," Draco said.

"I'm always hungry. Shall we dine together?" Sanguini asked. He grinned, revealing slightly elongated canines.

"I don't think so," Draco said as he drew his wand. The vampire had the good sense to at least unfold his hands, "say what you came to say, or I'm apparating."

"There will soon be legislation coming to the Wizengamot floor, regarding vampire rights," Sanguini said, "I want you to vote in favour."

Draco laughed.

"The fact you once tried to kill me aside, what makes you think there's anything you could do or say that would convince me to give you, a blood sucking parasite, any standing in wizarding society?" Draco asked.

If he was moved at all by the insult, the vampire showed no sign.

"If I'd tried to kill you, we would not be having this conversation," Sanguini said.

Draco sneered. He was about two seconds away from trying to fry the immortal again.

"Come Lord Malfoy. We can be very persuasive," Sanguini said.

"We? Think about this for a second Draco. He's connected with the Death Eaters, he could tell you where Rookwood is," Draco thought, "Idiot, what good is money if you're dead? You can't trust him at all, he might lead you into a trap. This has bad idea written all over it, and I'm done with bad ideas."

"As entertaining as the possibilities are, I must respectfully decline," Draco said, his voice steeped with faux formality.

"Are you certain? There's absolutely nothing we can do to change your mind?" Sanguini asked.

"Again with this 'we' business," Draco thought, but he knew there was no way he'd be voting for changing the status of vampires, plus, he had a dinner reservation.

He responded to Sanguini by turning and apparating home. Upstairs, he changed into slacks and a dark blazer, checked his appearance in the mirror, then apparated to Diagon and exited via the Leaky.

Draco sat at the candlelit white clothed table next to the floor to ceiling window at Skyline, the restaurant atop a muggle skyscraper, and gazed down at the mesmerizing view of the city lit up at night. He swirled the savoury red in his glass, the most expensive wine on the list, and shifted his view to the empty chair across from him. Mary had worn a black cocktail dress the evening they were meant to dine here.

"She was beautiful," he thought. She'd obviously spent significant time on her hair and makeup, and he'd blown her off to go with Darren on his rounds. Both of their schedules had filled up, and they never managed to have the dinner he'd originally planned.

Every week in Macmillan's office, and any time he stood still, really, his mind went to the same place, through the same thoughts. It was part of the reason why he'd kept himself so busy the past two weeks, but now, with business humming along, the expansions growing in Germany and Italy, his muggle investments already showing returns, and planning for Fall Ball all but complete, he had nothing left to do, nothing except let his thoughts dwell on Mary. The lights sparkled below, millions of muggles going about their evening, completely unaware he even existed, completely unaware that Mary had ever existed, and now she didn't.

Just wondering why anyone would come back here if they didn't have to.

He opened the small box with the photograph inside to stare at her smile again.

"She would have been amazed at this view, tried to eat everything on the menu," Draco thought, "she would have teased me with that little dress the whole night, maybe gone without knickers. It would have only been the beginning. France on the Mediterranean would have been next, and after that, who knew? We could have seen the world together. Should have."

He closed the box and ran his fingers over the edges.

That's my curfew. It was nice to meet you Drake Malfoy, I suppose I'll see you tomorrow?

"Unfortunately not," Draco thought.

He squeezed his eyes as tears burned. He tipped the glass back and drained the rest, then concentrated as he started to place the memories of Mary back in their box. Almost immediately, a waiter appeared at his side.

"Pardon, sir, would you like another glass while you wait for your companion?" he asked.

Draco sighed deeply.

Well aren't you a ray of sunshine.

"No," he replied, "serve the main course please."

A/N: Here we go, only the conclusion left to write, which will be several chapters. I try to get them up relatively quickly, we'll see how it goes.