A Family Affair

February 15^th, 2002 (Five Years Later)

Crossroads' dance floor was still mostly deserted, as it always was before nine p.m. on a Friday night. In another hour, things would pick up - the bartenders would be working non-stop and the club would be crowded - but for now only a few people took advantage of the spacious dance floor. Three scantily clad girls danced in one corner, shimmying in what they thought to be an erotic manner; they were clearly on the dance floor only to attract attention. Across the nightclub, a young woman taught her fiancé a few simple dance steps; they were taking advantage of the empty floor to avoid crushing anyone's toes. Directly in the middle of the polished wood floor a lone figure stood, eyes closed, letting the music flow into and through him as his body twisted and his feet moved in time to the music; he - Draco Malfoy - danced for the pure, unadulterated pleasure of it, caring not whether every eye watched him - as was often the case - while the music and the movement carried him away from reality for awhile.

Kaitlyn commented once that Draco could make a small fortune dancing - particularly if he were not averse to the idea of taking off his clothes while doing so. But never let it be said that Draco Malfoy could not learn from his mistakes.

Music had become less a joy and more a burden when he started earning his keep by playing in local nightclubs. When Vertigo broke up shortly before he turned eighteen, Draco had been relieved. But the solace he once again found in his music was nothing like the abandon he experienced when he danced. For a short time, nothing existed except for the music, himself, and whoever his dance partner of the moment happened to be He lost himself in the dance, as he was lost now - hiding from a life he could no longer lead, but could never really leave behind.

********************

Hermione Granger stepped timidly across the threshold of the nightclub known as Crossroads. Her sources said that Michael Talbot worked in the club, and it was that information that brought her there. Self-conscious and more than a little out of place, Hermione flashed the gentleman at the door a slight smile as she showed him her Muggle ID.

Moving farther into the club, Hermione's first thought was that the Draco Malfoy she knew would never have consented to step foot inside such a plebian establishment. She wondered if perhaps her sources had been wrong about his whereabouts - again. As she looked around, her second thought was that Sirius had done a damn fine job of imitating local fashion when he transformed her robes into clothing appropriate for this environment. At first she had objected to the apparel - she would forever think of Sirius Black as an 'old lecher' after this - but she blended in rather well, which of course had been the objective. She fervently wished, not for the first time, that he had been the one to come here tonight, but he had insisted on checking out their other leads while she surveyed the club.

Scanning the room, Hermione managed to find a seat at the narrow counter that encircled the dance floor. From there she had a very good view of the entire club. She studied the crowded bars and the DJ booth and looked closely at every passing waiter or security guard, but there was no sign of Draco anywhere. With a resigned sigh, Hermione settled in to wait, hoping that her sources were correct this time. When a waitress stopped and asked if she would like a drink, leaning very close to be heard over the roar of the music, Hermione deliberated only a moment before ordering. With a drink in hand, pretending to be enjoying herself, she would blend in a little better.

Minutes slipped slowly by as she sat sipping her drink and watching the dancers, her eyes periodically lifting to scan the room for Draco. One of the couples on the dance floor caught her attention. Both dancers were male, but that wasn't what had captured her attention. The smaller of the two men, with his dark, slightly mussed, close-cropped hair, his lithe body, and his air of quiet confidence, reminded her of Harry.

Hermione was searching for a dark-haired man, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to believe that the man she was looking at might be Draco Malfoy.

As she watched, the music changed to a slower, more sensual beat, and the man's dance partner, who was tall and toned, with wavy honey-brown hair that flowed down to his elbows, slipped behind the other man. He grasped the dark-haired man's hips, pulling him close and steering him in a twisting motion that must surely cause a great deal of friction. Hermione, embarrassed, chose that moment to survey the night club again. After a quick search that turned up no one that might be Draco, her eyes turned once again to the two men.

The taller man reached down to place his hands low on his partner's thighs, slowly trailing his fingertips up along the man's denim clad legs and up his sides. With a fluidly graceful motion, he raised the other man's arms to clasp around his neck, causing the man to arch his back and lean his head back against the broad chest behind him as they continued to write together to the music.

The beat of the music changed again, and the taller man slipped out of his partner's embrace. In the next instant, the man leapt on the small dance platform in front of the DJ booth. If the way he had danced with the other man had been sensual, then what he was doing now was nothing short of pornographic.

The dancer rolled his hips and swayed his body in a manner that more than suggested sex. He ran one hand slowly down his chest and stomach and over the pale denim stretched taut over his hard thighs. His hands rubbed his thighs for a moment before one hand trailed slowly back up over his stomach to rest on his chest as he threw his head back as if in ecstasy. On and on he danced, his hands roving over his own body, seemingly oblivious to the attention he was drawing.

Hermione's pulse raced. Glancing around, she noticed that a great many of the clubs patrons - both male and female - watched the dancer with rapt attention. She could certainly understand why.

Flushing and feeling quite absurd for reacting in such a manner to a stranger - and one who appeared to be gay, at that - Hermione made her way to the bar. Quizzing the staff of the club about Michael Talbot suddenly seemed to be a very good idea.

Hermione impatiently waited for a gaggle of tittering women to clear away so she could have a word with the bartender. While she waited, she checked her very Muggle cellular phone for messages, hoping desperately for good news from Sirius. Someone knocked into her from behind, sending the phone crashing to the floor.

"Sorry about that," a voice said from behind her as the man who had bumped her came into view. Honey-brown hair fell across the man's face as he bent to retrieve to Hermione's phone for her.

"It's quite all right," she managed to say, her brains feeling a bit muddled.

The man straightened rather unsteadily, and Hermione realised that he was quite drunk. She reached out a hand to steady him, and he flashed a brilliant grin at her. Looking up into his face, Hermione's jaw dropped open.

There was no mistaking the silvery grey eyes that met hers.

"Draco?" she croaked incredulously.

The man's grin slid away. He stared at Hermione for a long moment. "You're killing my buzz, Granger," he said at last. Then he turned away from her to speak to the bartender. "Kurt, uno mas, amigo," he called, his voice only slightly slurred.

"Mike, uno mas and you're going to be drunk for three days instead of just two," the bartender replied, but he filled a glass with sour mix and a variety of liquors, topped it off off with a splash of soda, and slid it across the bar into Draco's outstretched hand.

"I'm shooting for four," Draco shot back as he lifted the glass to his lips.

"Michael," Hermione said sharply. "We need to talk. In private."

Draco lowered his glass and glared at the woman. "The last time a girl said that to me she tried to convince me I'd knocked her up. Unless you've something a good deal more pressing to talk to me about, I'd suggest sodding off."

Hermione snapped. She had spent the last three months searching for Draco Malfoy, and her patience had reached it's limit. Before she could stop herself, she struck Draco across the face hard enough to send him staggering back against the bar. His glass -thankfully plastic and disposable - struck the floor and rolled away.

A tall man with mischievous slate-blue eyes appeared as if from thin air, gesturing for someone to clean up the mess from Draco's spilled glass. "I have a feeling you deserved that, Michael," the man said with a grin. Turning to Hermione he asked, "Is there a problem, ma'am?"

"Just a disagreement," Hermione assured him, her mouth tight and her eyes flashing.

The man chuckled. "He's harmless, I swear, but if he's bothering you, I can have him escorted off the premises."

"If you kick me out, who're you gonna get to run this place," Draco snapped, taking a replacement drink from the bartender.

The man stepped forward and slipped the drink out of Draco's hand. "You, my friend, are cut off." He sniffed the concoction and frowned before taking a long draught. "I apologise for Michael, here," he said to Hermione. "I'm afraid he got a little carried away celebrating tonight. He isn't usually such as ass. Can I get you anything, ma'am? I'm really sorry about the bother."

"No," Hermione said. "No, really, it's all right. I'm quite used to his acting an ass, actually." Sean raised an eyebrow in a mute question. "We were at school together. Back in Britain."

"Small world," Sean said, his eyes showing his sudden suspicion.

"Yes, well," Hermione stammered.

"Let me guess," Draco said. "You were nowhere near the neighborhood and thought you'd drop by." His grey eyes narrowed with thinly veiled ire. "Or. Potter broke your heart and you decided to exact revenge by having it off with his worst enemy."

"Leave Harry out of this," Hermione said in a quite but hard-as-steel voice.

"Oh fuck," Draco moaned. Suddenly he was a blur of motion, disappearing through a nearby doorway into the men's bathroom.

Sean looked at Hermione with concern plain on his face. "You wait here," he said. "I think it's time I took Michael home."

A few minutes later, Sean returned with Draco leaning heavily on him. He escorted Hermione out of the smoke-filled club into the cool, quiet night. Once outside, Draco pushed away from Sean, taking huge gulps of fresh air and steadying himself against the wall.

"Look," Sean said. "I don't know what's going on here, and I don't wanna know. I know there's a lot of things Michael hasn't told me about his past, and I'm pretty sure that you're mixed up in that somehow. I'm also pretty sure you're not a threat to him, or I wouldn't be standing here talking to you. My suggestion is that I give you my address, and you come and see Michael tomorrow when he's sober."

Hermione shook her head slowly. "I don't think so. I don't dare let him out of my sight."

"In that case, you're welcome to the guest bedroom," Sean replied smoothly.

Draco moaned and pushed away from the wall, staggering toward a nearby row of cars. He tripped on his own feet and fell to the ground. With a resigned sigh, Sean helped his friend up. "Come on," he said, steering the younger man towards a shiny, late-model convertible. "We'll pick up your car tomorrow." Draco opened his mouth to protest, but then hastily covered his mouth with his hand and turned from Sean to lean against the car. Shaking his head, Sean managed to stuff Draco into the practically non-existent back seat of the convertible.

Hermione merely watched the proceedings with a slightly amused, slightly disgusted look on her face.

"You can follow us," Sean said to her.

"I don't have a car," she explained. "I had a friend drop me off."

Sean nodded with a look that said he had been expecting her to say something along those lines. He opened the passenger side door for her before sliding behind the wheel. He steered the sleek car out of the parking lot, fiddling with the car stereo while he waited for an opening in traffic to allow him access to the roadway. Hermione was glad of the music, as it negated the need for forced conversation.

A short time later, Sean parked the convertible in his own driveway. Exhausted and lost in thought, it took Hermione a moment to register the fact that the car had stopped moving. Looking up, her eyes widened at the massive house before her.

"Michael lives here?" she asked.

"Yeah. I let him move in with me awhile back. Feel sorry for me," he said with a smile.

Hermione returned the smile. "I do," she assured him.

Sean held his keys out to her. "The one with the red whatchamacallit on it is the door key to the house. If you don't mind, could you unlock it while I drag out Prince Charming back there?"

"Gladly," Hermione said as she took the keys from him.

Together, they managed to get Draco into the house, although he was now all but unconscious. Sean dumped Draco on his bed rather roughly, eliciting a groan from the drunken man. Draco curled up on his side, shivering.

Taking pity on him, Hermione scooped up a blanket lying wadded at the foot of the bed and spread it out over the young man. She smoothed a lock of hair out of his eyes in a motherly gesture that made Sean grin and tucked the blanket in around him. As she rounded the bed on her way to the door, the cell phone in her pocket began shrilling loudly, drawing a miserable moan from the half-conscious Draco.

Hurrying out into the hallway, Hermione noted the phone number on the caller ID and clicked on the phone. "I found him," she said.

*************************

Draco Malfoy came to awareness slowly. His head was pounding, his mouth dry, and his stomach heaving. Gods, how he hated hangovers.

Somehow, he managed to drag himself from the warmth of his bed. Wrinkling up his nose in disgust, he stripped off yesterday's shirt which reeked of cigarette smoke and stale sweat and hurled it across the room to land beside his clothes hamper. Kicking off his jeans, he grabbed up his dressing gown and slipped into the bathroom that separated his bedroom from the usually vacant guest room.

And came face to face with Hermione Granger.

Hermione's eyes widened slightly in shock at the sight of Draco clad only in very revealing zebra-striped silk briefs. Her eyes traveled over his sun-darkened skin, and some distant part of her mind observed that the man did not appear to have a tan line anywhere.

"So I didn't imagine you," Draco said in a flat voice, squinting painfully in the harsh light of the dressing room and making no move to cover himself.

"You'll be wishing you had before the day is over," Hermione warned.

"What makes you think I don't already wish it so?" Draco retorted disagreeably.

"If you're going to be such as arse, I shan't give you your hangover remedy," she shot back haughtily, feeling as if she were tangled in a grammar school argument.

The ex-Slytherin's eyes narrowed. "You have one?"

"Sirius insisted I brew one for you, although I would rather leave you to suffer," she explained as she turned toward the guest room.

"Sirius is here? Where is he?" Draco asked enthusiastically, his hangover momentarily forgotten.

"In the kitchen with Sean, cooking breakfast and talking about motorbikes. Those two are kindred spirits," Hermione answered, grinning.

"Sean," Draco breathed. "What did you tell him?"

"Nothing really. Just that Sirius and I are friends of yours from back in Britain. He insisted that he did not want to know any details."

Draco nodded. "Good."

Stepping into the tidy guest room, Hermione located the hangover remedy she had concocted and handed it to Draco. He sniffed the liquid carefully, the familiar scent bringing back memories of Hogwarts, where he had often brewed this same potion for his housemates - for a small fee, of course. Bracing himself, he tossed back his head and gulped the foul tasting mixture. Almost immediately he felt the queasiness and pain slipping from his body.

Leaning back against the bathroom counter with a contented sigh, Draco flashed a smile at Hermione. "Tell Sirius I said 'thank you'," he said, and then he shut the door, locked it, and proceeded with his shower.

A short time later, he joined Hermione, Sirius, and Sean at the breakfast table. Clad in baggy jeans and a white long-sleeved tee shirt that contrasted perfectly with his tawny skin, Draco looked more like a beach bum than a wealthy, aristocratic wizard. He pulled his still damp hair back from his face and secured it with an elastic before sliding into his seat at the table. Hermione found herself unconsciously counting the number of silver rings in his ears and wondering why anyone would pay to have their body punctured a dozen times.

Sirius Black looked up with his conversation with Draco's Muggle roommate to see a young man drop into the fourth seat at the table. He stared at the man, everything else forgotten, trying to reconcile the haughty, insecure flaxen-haired imp he had known with the self-assured, easygoing brunette across the table. Then Draco smirked, apparently amused at the look of shock on Sirius' face, and he was easily recognisable once again.

Blinking in disbelief, Sirius swallowed twice before allowing himself to speak. "It's good to see you," he said. It sounded inadequate even to his own ears, but he honestly didn't know what else to say - particularly in front of the Muggle.

To Sirius' relief, Draco smiled. "It's good to see you, too, Sirius. You look well."

"I am. Better than I have been in a very long time, actually. The...erm.. misunderstanding...that so concerned me - it's been cleared up. Must be almost a year ago now. Peter explained everything, under duress."

"That's good, Sirius. I'm happy for you," the young man replied honestly. "How's Remus?" he asked, turning to his breakfast.

"Remus has seen better days," Sirius replied darkly, causing Draco to look up in alarm.

"Is he all right?"

The concern in Draco's eyes touched Hermione deeply. "He's been going through some rough times, but he's really doing much better now," she assured him.

"He's been through enough," Draco mumbled into his coffee cup.

"Bill's death was very hard on him," Sirius explained quietly.

Draco set his cup down with a loud thump. He closed his eyes and shook his head slightly, trying to will away the sudden tightness in his chest. Although he had known Bill Weasley only briefly, the man had made an impression on Draco. Bill had helped him a great deal and it hurt now to know that he was gone.

"I think you should tell me why you're here," Draco demanded suddenly, harshly.

Sighing, Sirius pushed back from the table. "Yes, perhaps we should."

Draco stood and strode from the room, never looking back to make sure Sirius and Hermione followed. Which, of course, they did.

In the seclusion of Draco's bedroom, the three wizards sat down to talk.

"Draco, we're here because we need your help," Sirius began.

Malfoy snorted derisively. "You're the wizards. Why the hell would you need help from me?"

"You're the only one who can get us past the wards surrounding Malfoy Manor," Hermione explained.

"Why should I? The fate of the wizarding world no longer concerns me."

"It concerns you more than you realise, Draco," Sirius insisted.

"I doubt that I could even perform a simple levitation spell, much less anything more. I don't even have a wand," Draco protested.

Sirius reached inside his Muggle jacket to fish something out of the inner pocket. He held out Draco's wand. "I told you that I'd keep it safe for you."

Draco reached out for the wand, his eyes shining with wonder. Grasping the familiar item in his hand, he flicked his wrist, smiling delightedly when sparks shot from the tip.

"Go on," Hermione urged, her voice hardly more than a whisper. "Give it a try."

His eyes scanned the room as he reached back in his memory for a spell - any spell. "Accio book," he said at last, swishing and flicking his wand. Instantly, the book he had envisioned came zinging across the room, smacking Draco in the forehead before he could get a hand up to catch it.

Hermione giggled helplessly while Sirius inspected the damage inflicted by the flying paperback. "I didn't expect it to actually work," Draco explained.

"But it did work," Hermione replied.

With a sigh, Draco relented. "Tell me what I'm getting myself into," he said.

"Voldemort is dead, thankfully. However, Lucius Malfoy endeavours to take his place."

"There's a surprise," Draco remarked sarcastically.

"Yes, well. After you disappeared, someone else was chosen to take your place in the Moribundus Ritual. That person disappeared as well, and was assumed to be dead. However, Lucius has recently learned that the girl is still alive, and he means to go ahead with the Rite, with himself as the recipient of her power."

"He has also taken a woman hostage. We believe he intends to use her as a bargaining chip, but we can not take any chances with her. We have to get her out of Malfoy's hands before he realizes that she can point him directly to the girl he's looking for," Sirius continued.

"This woman knows the girl's whereabouts then?"

"She does," Hermione confirmed.

"Draco, you don't have to be involved in this directly. We need your help in getting past the Manor's defences. Once that's done, you can portkey back to Hogwarts, out of harm's way," Sirius assured him.

"No, I can't," Draco replied, slowly shaking his head. Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Draco cut her off. "I can't just run away again. I'll get you past the wards, and I'll face my father. Give me time to pack and to come up with a plausible story to tell Sean," he continued.

"Don't bother," Sean's deep voice came from the other side of the slightly open door.

Draco and Sirius cursed in unison, and Hermione paled as the door opened wider.

"Michael....Draco...whatever your name is," Sean said. "I don't pretend to know what the hell is going on, but I'm not letting you run off alone with these two."

"Sean, I..." Draco began, but Sean cut him off.

"I'm going with you. If anyone doesn't like it, they are welcome to kiss my ass," Sean drawled.

"I can't let you go, Sean," Draco protested.

"You can't stop me, kid."

And Draco knew Sean was right. Even though a simple incantation could prevent Sean from accompanying him on this suicidal journey home, Draco knew that he would be unable to bring himself to restrain his friend - or to allow Sirius or Hermione to do so. "All right," Draco said softly. "You win, Sean. Just don't say I didn't warn you."