Butler in Britain

Chapter Three: Meeting in Beresford

He looked around the waiting room, eager to see some bright, cheerful faces that would make him forget his troubles, but all he saw were the petrified faces of both Muggles and wizards (pretending to be Muggles), hoping to get a job at the Beresford Hotel. Now that the leaders of the Wizarding Community have lost their power during the Great War, multitude of wizards has lost their businesses, especially the ones that were based entirely on magic. Thus, wizards and witches alike resorted into applying to low-paying Muggle jobs such as hotel service.

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw the face of his partner according to the description of Granger. Mousy haired, buck-toothed, a smiling blank face--it was definitely Dennis Creevey.

"Hey, Creevey," growled Draco as he walked towards Colin's younger brother with arrogance, "heard you volunteered to be my partner on this mission."

Creevey stared at Draco vacantly as he took the empty chair beside him. Draco stared back at him for a few seconds before asking, "What are you staring at?"

"What?" asked Creevey in a surprised tone, like he was suddenly hauled out of his reverie rather harshly.

"I said, what are you are staring at?" repeated Draco, feeling every bit of his patience going down the drain.

"Oh no," he responded even more vacantly than before, "I wasn't staring at anything. Of course my eyes were open but that never meant I was staring at--hmm...let's see...what was I staring at again?"

Draco's jaw dropped to the floor.

"Oh don't mind me," said Creevey, laughing airily, "I mean; I don't even know why I'm here in the first place. And here is where exactly? My Merlin, I forgot! Wow, this is a nice place once you think about it. Is this where you live? You live with many people, I suppose. You must be extremely popular. Hi, I'm Dennis Creevey and you are?"

He said all this very fast, making Draco's jaw sink even lower to the floor.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," he answered, shaking his head in disbelief, "and you're here to apply for a butler because you volunteered to be my partner for this mission."

"Oh yes, I do know all that. No need to fill me in with all the details, I can figure them out myself...in due time of course." Creevey then looked at his surroundings for a few seconds before turning back to Draco and asking, "Hi, I'm Dennis Creevey, and you are?"

"You just told me who you were!" Draco squeaked, tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes due to intense frustration. "And I just told you my name!"

"Right," said Creevey sheepishly. "Sorry. You see, a year ago, some Death Eater placed the Memory Charm on me. It didn't work as well as he expected, bet he didn't have enough power in him left to perform the charm properly, but it ended up with me having severe short-term memory loss."

Draco's eyes popped out of their sockets.

"I don't forget all things...some things I remember well--the really happy memories or the really sad ones. In fact, I can name one memory I won't ever forget...like the time...hmm...let's see....where was I again? Help me out here, please."

"Why," asked Draco, his face screwed up, "did they send you as my partner?"

"I was the only one who volunteered--at least that's what I remember, partner Draco," replied Creevey, annoyingly stressing out his first name.

"It's Malfoy to you," Draco snorted.

"Okily dokily, Draco!" he responded cheerfully.

Draco was just about to strangle Creevey to death when suddenly, a loud voice coming from the speakers called out their names, indicating their turns to be interviewed for the job.

"Do me a favour and let me do all the talking," Draco commanded as he walked up to the main office, his fingers crossed.

*.*

Rrring...

Ginny cursed loudly as she heard the phone ringing in the living room. She turned the showers off before rushing out towards the phone in her bathrobe, leaving a wet trail on the expensive carpet as she walked.

"Hello?" Ginny answered cheerfully.

"Hi Gin, it's Penelope," the voice on the other end of the phone said.

"Hey," Ginny greeted in a voice that floated between weary and joyful. Having Penelope Clearwater, her manager, call in an afternoon wherein she anticipated to be having a date with Harry at the Beresford Hotel where they were both staying for two weeks, gave her the uncomfortable notions that she was going to have to cancel yet again.

"Listen, I got a call from Rita Skeeter and she wants to interview you live on her talk show in about an hour."

"In about an hour?" Ginny repeated, shocked, "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"Because I got the call just now."

"I don't believe you, Pen."

"Oh, fine. Stop seeing right through me--I hate it. It was just that I knew you wouldn't agree on it unless the pressure's on and the cash's guaranteed. There, I told you the truth--happy?"

"Happy?! No!" Ginny groaned, feeling Penelope getting on her nerves. "What if I had other plans, Pen?"

"You don't have plans and I know because I make them. That's what managers do. Now, get ready cause I already sent a limousine for you. By the way, the topic for Skeeter's show is Celebrities Whose Childhood Were Affected because of You-Know-Who.

"You-Know-Who never affected my childhood!"

"Just tell them about the time he pulled you inside his Chamber of whatever you call it and you'll touch your fan's hearts. Oh, also tell them about the time you went with Harry Potter to the Ministry of Magic when you were fourteen, only this time, tell them that you lost your eyesight during the battle and that you're the one wrapped in brains, not your brother--oooh, imagine the publicity!"

There was a soft click before the line went dead. Ginny slammed the phone down, feeling the first signs of stress creeping unto her. She was just about to disconnect the phone to avoid any more calls from her aggravated manager when it rang again.

"Hello?" Ginny barked rudely.

"Ginny? It's Hermione."

"Oh, hey," said Ginny, feeling awkward. Ever since she resigned from the Order because of her career, she had always been giddy around its members--especially Hermione. She knew in her heart the Order was better off without her. Since she was an actress, she couldn't spy, so she couldn't gather information because of the paparazzi always at her back. So, in other words, she was useless.

"I need to tell you something very important, Gin. It's about this new mission that came up--"

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but now's not the time," Ginny said hurriedly, thinking that Hermione wanted her to participate in a mission once more, "I really need to go on live on National Television in about an hour. Tell Harry I'm sorry I can't go to our date...maybe I could next week, I'm not sure."

"But it's really important--it's about your butler--"

"Thanks, bye!" Ginny said before putting the phone back to its receiver. She knew it was rude to dismiss Hermione like that, especially since it had been a long time since they've seen each other, but Ginny was too busy to even attend to her own needs--what more to the needs of others. It just wasn't the time to be heroic right now.

What was Hermione talking about anyway? Ginny shook her head in apathy, absolutely clueless.

*.*

"Why are you so mad?"

Draco stubbornly ignored Creevey's question by ducking inside the packed elevator, hoping against hope that Creevey would be pushed away by the mainstream of the crowd. Just as Draco was about to jump up and down in success, he gained sight once more of Creevey's usual vacant face amongst the crowd, making him groan in disappointment. To avoid conversation, he glanced at the buttons in front of him, all of which had a number written on it, making his heart sink. He didn't like numbers, especially the important looking ones like 6 or 8. There was something about 6 that he didn't really like. If there was one thing he hated more than numbers, however, it was Muggle devices. Granger had told him all about elevators but personally, Draco still prefer the long, smooth walks on the marble staircases, mainly because he had completely forgotten what elevators were basically used for.

"Oh, I know this stuff," Creevey squealed excitedly from the other side of the elevator, making a dozen heads turn towards him, "Hermione told me all about the eleclator! You just push the button that says the number of the floor you want to be in! What floor are we going to, Draco?"

"Seventh," Draco mumbled from the corners of his mouth, "and it's Malfoy to you, Creevey."

The confused gentleman that was in front of him pushed the appropriate button while Draco tried to make himself invisible. When that failed, he tried making Creevey invisible. After he was convinced that the invisibility charm wasn't working, Draco started cursing everyone from God to his mother.

As the light above Draco's head stopped at seven, Creevey went out of his way to stand in front of the silver doors. When it didn't open upon his command ("Alohomora!"), which nearly caused Draco a heart attack (Performing a spell in front of Muggles when you don't even have enough power to do so for goodness sake...), Creevey started freaking out--literally.

"Open! Please, open I tell you! Don't trap me with all the Muggles in here! Help! Help! I'm trapped! Open, oh Merlin, please open!"

Draco went white when the doors chose to open by themselves and the worst thing was that, besides the fact that Creevey nearly exposed the Wizarding World to the Muggles, he didn't seem to be the least embarrassed about it.

"You know, it's a wonder," said Draco as he walked out of the elevator, away from the deadly stares of the poor, confused, fat Muggles, blushing furiously, "how the Wizarding World is kept a secret with lunatics like you around, blabbing our secrets in front of Muggles."

"I didn't blab--"

"You performed the Unlocking Charm in front of their very eyes! You don't even have enough magic left in you to do that! And I'm telling you, there was only one blind Muggle in there--out of eleven!"

Draco marched towards the West Suite, knowing very well that Creevey would forget his insults in a second. To prove that, Creevey asked him his favourite question, "Why are you so mad?"

"I told you a hundred times already!" Draco burst out. "I won't tell you again! Honestly, I was better off with Crabbe and Goyle than with you. At least they just stare at me and only speak when my pants are at my ankles..."

Whether Creevey responded or not, Draco never knew, for right then and there, Draco knocked three times on the door of the West Suite, making sure that the door would break down within his next knock.

The door was saved by a very harassed looking Granger, her curly tendrils sticking unattractively to her face.

"You know," said Draco, brushing Granger's tendrils and tucking them in her ears, "maybe you should brush your hair more often. I find it very attractive."

"Hands off, Malfoy," Granger cried out, backing away. "With that kind of attitude, I'll be finding myself not brushing my hair permanently."

"Why, she's the President of the Ministry, isn't she?" Creevey interrupted in such an excited tone that Draco was determined that he had wet his pants.

"Yes, Dennis, it's very nice to see you too," said Granger in a very sympathetic tone.

"Very nice? I don't know about that..." Draco snorted derisively.

"What are you looking so mad about?"

"That's it!" Creevey shrieked from behind Draco. "That was the question I was meaning to ask you! Why are you so mad? Gee, I was thinking about asking you that for a very long time, except I didn't know exactly what I was thinking about of course, half of the time I don't even know what I'm doing!"

"We kind of figured that out already," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "Granger, I need to talk to your boyfriend."

Granger looked horrified. "How did you know about us?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Umm...that is...I mean..." she cleared her throat, apparently embarrassed about her sudden outburst, "I don't know what in the world you're talking about since I don't have any boyfriend at all, and if I did, I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be any of your business."

"Okay, I'll try not to confuse you any further," Draco uttered, trying hard not to laugh, "all I wanted to do was to talk to Potter and don't worry, I'm sure he's not your boyfriend and--wait a minute! What are you doing inside his room?"

Granger looked horrified yet again. "It's not what you're thinking..."

"I think it is, Granger--or if it's not--it's that Weasley isn't it? You and Weasley are having--you know..."

"What?" asked a poor, confused Creevey, his head turning towards one face to the next. "I don't get anything you're saying!"

"I'm in here because something came up," Granger replied, casting an anxious look at Creevey, "but we'll talk about it later."

"No, it's okay, Granger. I'm pretty sure I don't want to listen to your hormones and of Potter's as well."

Granger gave a growling sound in her throat before moving aside to welcome them inside Potter's suite. One glance around the room made Draco envy Potter even more than he envied him before. The mahogany walls, the glass shelves, the crystal chandelier, the marble staircases and the gigantic couch all added to his list which was now entitled as: "101 Reasons Why I hate Potter", from the original: "95 Reasons Why I hate Potter".

"Harry!" Granger called out as she disappeared into the kitchenette, "Malfoy wants to see you for some reason! And you better come out quick before he says one more thing about your hormones! Oh, and Ginny couldn't make it--she's real sorry too..."

"What?!" Draco heard Potter's surprised voice drifting in and out from where he was sitting, "...ten times already! What is she? Busy? You're never too busy for...and you're the President of the Ministry! How much more busy can someone get..."

After a few minutes, Potter appeared into the living room wherein Draco settled himself into the leather couch, all pride and glory written across his slick face. "Something the matter, Malfoy?"

"Let me see...only a lot," Draco responded crossly. "First, you made me wait in line for a century, thinking that I had to be interviewed to get the butler's position when it was already fixed! Second, I just learned that I have to stay in the servant's quarters while you stay in the Grand Suite! And third, why, oh why, did you send me him?" Draco then wrathfully pointed at Creevey after he had finished vocalizing his woes, his eyes on the verge of tears.

"Well first, you needed to be in line because that's where you were supposed to meet Dennis in the first place, whom we sent only because he was the only one who volunteered for the mission. It was also necessary for you to be in line so that you may learn that you indeed would be staying in the servant's quarters to prove to everyone that you're nothing but a butler. Tell me, Malfoy; is it not suspicious for one butler to stay in a Suite when all the other butlers sleep in a bunk?"

"Not, if that butler has sparkling clean silvery-blonde hair, grey eyes that would lock you into a stare once you glance at them, heart-shaped lips that pucker softly when about to kiss, a lean and muscular body, six-pack abs and can move his chest up and down when he wants to!"

"Okay then, since you don't meet any of those requirements, you're going to have to stay in the quarters," explained Potter in what seemed to be a forced calm tone.

"Admit it, Potter! With my looks--there is absolutely no way people can see me as a butler! As I have mentioned to you before, I have sparkling clean silvery-blonde hair, grey eyes that would lock you into a stare once you glance at them, heart-shaped lips that pucker softly when about to kiss, a lean and muscular body, six-pack abs and I can move my chest up and down when I want to and all of that I tell you is the making of a--"

"Porn star?" Potter suggested.

It was Draco's turn to look horrified. "I meant a successful millionaire Potter. Just look at it this way--with my sparkling clean silvery-blonde hair, grey eyes that would lock you into a stare once you glance at them, heart-shaped lips--"

"Lay off the adjectives, Malfoy," Granger interrupted from behind, "you're starting to fill my brain with vivid pictures, and believe me, they are not pretty."

"Hermione, before Malfoy starts describing himself again, maybe you could explain to him exactly what he's supposed to do."

"Right," Granger chirped, now cheerfully, "so listen up Malfoy. The first subject in our agenda is about your partner, Dennis Creevey. You see, he has a memory loss problem--"

"Yes, believe it or not, I managed to figure that out myself," Draco butted in as he eyed Creevey with all loathe he was worth for.

"The next thing is that, since you need to be Harry for some hours of the day wherein he is absent for some reason such as attending to the problems of the Order, you will need this ready-made Polyjuice--"

But Draco had lost interest even before Harry's name came up. As far as he knew, Granger's words were now falling into oblivion. He had now taken devoted concentration to the swarm of flasks that Granger was taking out one by one through the huge sack that Potter had carried while she was talking. All of them were filled with a glittering yellow fluid that reminded Draco of a newly-brewed potion. Oh, how he missed being in that Potions class, with Potter always being insulted by his favourite Professor, and his skills were being enhanced with each outstanding lesson that no one but him (and probably Granger) understood.

And as Draco pranced, addicted to his dreamland, where potions were safe and Snape looked gorgeous, Hermione Granger continued to elaborate about the most important parts of Draco Malfoy's mission, praying and hoping that he was listening.

Meanwhile, about nine floors above the West Suite, Ginny Weasley changed her mind.

*.*

"Penelope...c'mon...pick up..."

Ginny was pacing inside her room, the phone clasped tightly to her ear. Each ring tensed her body, but her decision was final. For some reason, she wanted to do something different, as if an ancient force was pulling her somewhere else.

"Hullo?" came Penelope's sweet voice.

"Pen? It's Gin," she immediately responded.

"Oh, hey! Are you ready for the big boost in your career?"

"Well, there's something I need to tell you first...badly..." was Ginny's reluctant reply.

The long silence in the other line that followed made Ginny very perturbed indeed. She tried to force herself to simply follow Penelope's commands but as if it was magic, she couldn't.

"No way," Penelope breathed out, breaking the silence at last.

"I'm sorry," Ginny mumbled meekly.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier? I would've arranged things for you! It wouldn't have come to this!"

"I thought this was the earliest time I could possibly get," protested Ginny.

"Oh no, oh no," moaned Penelope, "what do I do? What do I tell them? This would be the end of both our careers!"

"C'mon Pen, it's just this once!"

"Just this once! Just this once! Do you know how long this once would be? Do you have any idea at all? I'll tell you--your just this once is nine frigging months long!"

"Pen, wait a minute," Ginny cried out, confused, "what exactly are you talking about?"

"What am I talking about? You know damn well what I'm talking about!" Ginny knew right then that Penelope was freaking out.

"No Pen, I don't."

"You! I'm talking about you! And your baby!"

"Oh, Pen! Oh no--it's not--I'm not pregnant!" Ginny let out a boisterous laugh out of relief.

"Then, what is it?" asked Penelope, now in a much calmer tone.

"I just can't go to Skeeter's show today."

Penelope's response was somewhat even more hysterical than her response before.

"What!! No--you can't! Skeeter would kill me! Do you know how much it'd cost me if you won't show up?"

"Don't worry, I got it all planned out," said Ginny soothingly. "Tell Skeeter that I'm so disturbed and haunted by the memories of my childhood that I can't even talk about You-Know-Who in public. Just appear there and take my place and people would consider it as an exclusive interview from my sort of best friend. Trust me."

Penelope groaned so loudly that Ginny was sure the whole hotel must've heard it. "What's so important anyway, that you have to ditch Skeeter?"

"I need to see Harry," Ginny replied.

*.*

Something rang in Granger's suit while she was talking that made Draco jump in surprise. She pulled out a black box from her pocket and placed it in her ear.

"Hello?" she asked. Determined that Granger was crazy (crazy enough to be talking to a black box with a long stick poking out of its head), Draco focused on the blue wallpaper, thinking that green would have suited the walls better.

"Oh no," Granger murmured, looking aghast. "Oh, Merlin, no..."

"What is it?" Potter asked, concern written across his face. Granger held out a commanding hand that told Potter to stop talking, her expression unchanged.

"No, it's okay," Granger said hurriedly, "we'll be right there."

As soon as she pocketed the box, she rounded o Potter and said, "That was Ron. Something terrible happened--we have to head back to our base."

"Happy trip," Draco called out teasingly.

Grange made a face before exiting through the door. Before leaving though, Potter had the decency to turn to Draco and said, "You touch anything, you'll die. Lock up before you leave," and he went away without another word.

Draco, of course, being the arse that he was, planned on not locking the door. Creevey, however, being the forgetful moron that he was, had other plans brewing inside that little, damaged brain that he had.

"Oooh..." Creevey uttered from the other side of the room.

"What is it?" asked Draco as he walked over to where Creevey was standing idiotically. As soon as he approached him, he saw what Creevey was slobbering at. It was Potter's expensive tuxedo, the material silky and was obviously ironed carefully. It was so beautiful that Draco actually felt himself salivate.

"Try it on," urged Creevey gently. "It's yours isn't it? Hey, you have a nice room in here...I must say..."

Even before Draco had the chance to tell Creevey that this wasn't his room but Potter's, he had already walked out of the room, off to find something more interesting than a tuxedo. Draco debated for a while if he should wear the tuxedo or not until he realized that he had no conscience at all for he didn't see any way out.

Trying on the tuxedo was wrong...the curse might attack...but he was thinking of wearing the tuxedo...and nothing was happening...the curse should strike even if he was thinking of evil...well right now, it was taking its time...or maybe because he wasn't doing anything wrong...since pretending to be Potter, which meant wearing his clothes, was an actual part of the mission...and right now he was absent...attending to the problems of the Order...

Draco didn't need any more urges, for he had already stripped down to his boxers, ready to dive into the tuxedo's soft material.

Soon, he had already buttoned up and was now standing in front of the full-length mirror, busily admiring himself. Due to time spent in Azkaban, Draco's body had become lankier--making Potter's size almost fit him. He was just telling himself how much of a sexy beast he was when Creevey's loud shrieks pulled him out of his daydream.

He spotted him now ogling over the flasks, the same way he had ogled over the tuxedo. "Drink it," he urged, again in that same convincing tone. "It's yours anyway...might as well find out what it's good for..."

He's right you know, Draco heard the devil part of him say, it's pretty and glittering...besides, Granger pulled them out only for you...the potion's for us, Draco...and don't you wonder what it'd do?

Draco contemplated about the devil's words for a few seconds.

What are you waiting for? Asked the little devil Draco.

The angel side of me, replied the normal Draco.

Umm...you don't have an angel side, sorry to break it to you, the devil responded naughtily.

Being hurt at the idea that everyone had a conscience and a little angel version of themselves and that he didn't, made him grab the flask Creevey was holding without so much as a thought for the consequences and drowned the whole thing down his throat.

The potion was strong and prickly--he almost gagged as soon as it passed over his throat. Creevey, losing interest, went into the kitchenette, ignoring Draco's choking sounds. He dedicated his attention to the stove (although he had no idea what that was), trying to figure out what it had to do with food.

The only thing that made both Creevey and Draco look up was the sound of someone knocking at the door.

*.*

Outside, as Draco was gagging as the effects of the potion took place, Ginny stood alone in the elevator, her heart pounding in anticipation. It had been such a busy year for her, and she didn't see Harry as much as she did before. She still felt lousy about quitting the Order, but she knew it was for the best. She was useless for it anyway. If she wasn't doing some movie, she was out on a conference, or a night show. She didn't have enough time for herself anymore. And besides the entire tight schedule, Harry couldn't arrange missions for her since she couldn't be a good spy if every person in Britain knew her name. Of course, quitting the Order required her to forget where the headquarters were, and it also forbids her to know any of the missions they were up to. She couldn't say she regretted her decision, for her quitting the Order meant more time on her hands, but it also meant one thing. She didn't get to see Harry.

She had a strange feeling when the elevator doors opened, but she dismissed it as soon as it came. It was probably elevator sickness; after all, she did go down nine floors.

She walked straight to Harry's Suite and knocked without hesitation. It was opened by Dennis Creevey, wearing a butler suit and a goofy smile. She didn't know Dennis was Harry's new butler.

"Hey Dennis, is Harry here?" she asked.

"Harry!" he called out, "Someone's here to see you!"

It took a few minutes before Harry appeared on the doorway, looking very disgruntled. He didn't have his glasses on, and his green eyes squinted uneasily towards her.

"Creevey, what are you talking about--" he began.

"It's me, Ginny," she greeted him as soon as he spotted her, standing nervously at his door. "Hi, Harry."