Butler in Britain

Chapter Five: Draco in Disguise

Draco couldn't sleep that night. For one thing, the sheets were starchy and his mattress was as hard as Potter's ass. Second, Draco couldn't help but feel as if this was the happiest night of his life. He was horrified at the thought, and he whispered a soft curse when he felt the first signs of a smile creeping unto his lips, but even Draco Malfoy couldn't suppress the fact that he was indeed, happy.

Why? That question occurred to him once or twice. When he returned to Potter's Suite, he swore he saw himself absolutely skipping on the way. Maybe it was because in the back of his head, he knew Dinny cared for him. She didn't think about Creevey, or any of the Weasleys, or even Potter. She thought about him. He knew because that was exactly what she said. "I'll think about you..."

Dinky's voice was gentle, soothing, a voice that sounded like a beautiful song. Although he couldn't see her properly, Draco knew that she was the making of a goddess. And to top it all, she had a dark past. Oh boy, he loved girls with dark pasts. He searched for them, he dreams of them, he craves for them.

Again, Draco was horrified to feel drool crawling out of his mouth.

He moved in his bed, rolled from here to there, covered his head with the blanket, uncovered it, and as soon as he felt out of breath he yelled, "Creevey for the love of Merlin, stop snoring!"

"I can't help it," his ignorant friend protested, once again driven away from his sleep.

"Hey you, new boy," a rough voice from somewhere in the vast, dark room with a Spanish accent called him, "if you can't sleep, at least let us sleep, eh amigo?"

Draco immediately felt his cheeks redden. He hated his roommates--no, that was an understatement--he despised his roommates. Just before he was about to retire in his bed with an idiotic smile plastered on his face, someone thought it was funny to place a plastic spider in his bed. The damned spider nearly caused him a heart attack for he was ever so jumpy since his date with Dinny.

"I don't know where you got that 'new boy' nickname for me, but I know where you can put it," Draco called back out, feeling his temper rise.

A burst of laughter filled the dormitory, where six butlers slept, five in their pyjamas and one in his birthday suit.

"Did you just tell me to shove your name up my ass?"

"I guess I did," said Draco, trying hard not to laugh.

"I'm sorry, I can't right now. You see, unlike you, I don't sleep naked as the day I was born."

Boisterous snorts of laughter once again disturbed the peace of Dennis Creevey, who was now sitting on his bed, eyes blinking. Everyone was awake now. The Spanish guy Draco was irritating was putting on his slippers, about to walk over to his bed. The other three little people, who also looked Spanish, were grinning from ear to ear. Draco, however, stayed at his position, blanket held up to his waist while he gave everyone a menacing glare.

The curse was hurting like hell. His head was throbbing so hard, Draco thought his veins were about to explode. He clutched onto his blanket as tightly as he could, knowing all to well that if these Evil Fat Little People pick a fight with him right now, he wouldn't stand a chance.

EFLP. That was what he was planning to call them. They were evil, fat and little, and they probably plan on dominating the world. These four fiends will be searching for other EFLP as well, and Draco was sure that it won't be too long before they find Crabbe and Goyle. After that, EFLP will be killing everyone who can see their toes when they look down, and Draco will be their first target, if they don't kill him tonight that is.

"Hey guys, I don't want to fight right now, okay?" Draco stuttered, slowly backing away.

"Oh, really?" EFLP number two asked, clenching and unclenching his fists. "Tell us, why not?"

Draco racked his brain for an answer. It's his time of the month won't be acceptable, that's for sure. The fact that he was naked also didn't sound very appealing, even to Draco's own ears. That excuse would only make him out as a shy blonde who didn't urinate in public and whose girlfriends laugh after seeing every part of him.

"Because I'm going on a date tomorrow," Draco finally announced proudly, waving a careless hand in the air, "and I don't want to appear all bruised in front of her."

"A date?" EFLP number one, their leader, the one whom he told to stick his name up his ass, asked. "A date with who? Is she a guest here? Is that why you didn't work today?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," Draco replied hastily. He was on a roll. "She's real gold too, and she has red hair."

It was true. She did have red hair, although Draco wasn't really sure about that. Everything was such a blur after he took the potion. Good thing his vision was clear now.

"What room is she stayin' in?" EFLP number three spoke up.

"Pardon?" asked Draco, caught by surprise. He didn't expect them to ask such a ludicrous question, as if they thought he was lying.

"He asked," EFLP number four, the smallest (and probably the most evil) one repeated for his friend, "what room is she staying in?"

Draco racked his brain for the answer. Did she say something about that? No, he was definite she didn't mention--no wait, she did--now, if only Draco could remember the numbers--damn those numbers, he hated numbers especially--

"68," Draco answered, all of a sudden remembering her words.

I'm staying at Room 68, she said brightly, come tomorrow, okay?

He hated 6 and 8, and lucky for him Dinny stayed at the number he had hated the most, or else he wouldn't remember where she stayed, and he would've never set eyes on the sun ever again.

Their leader, EFLP number one, snorted. "You're bluffing."

"I most certainly am not," Draco protested, appalled by the fat guy's behaviour.

"Yes, you are. Anyone who stays in here happens to be too rich for you."

"Fine," said Draco in a tone that sounded hideously like a whiny Fine, have it your way that six year olds loved to say, "but it so happened that she appeared at the Grand Suite while I was busy helping Creevey with his chores and dove into my arms--dove I tell you, dove."

"No, really?" Creevey squealed in excitement. "This we've got to hear!"

The EFLP's faces were all blank and Draco was sure it wasn't his imagination when he saw their leader's face glow with admiration. As if to tell him to go on, EFLP number three waved an impatient hand towards his direction with his eyebrows raised.

"So I hugged her, said I missed her, and she asked if I could take time out of my busy schedule to join her for a little walk in the park. I'm telling you, she was smitten with me. She held my hand and kissed my cheek and we picked flowers and had one Merlin of a time if you get my drift." Draco then raised his eyebrows back at EFLP number three who, in return, gave him a grin. He didn't feel the need to mention the truth that they picked flowers from a store and walked in the graveyard instead of the park. And that they separated only after thirty minutes since she needed to go someplace else, in a show that Draco never really understood.

"Did you kiss?" asked their leader.

"Oh, lots of times," Draco responded.

"Where?" EFLP number two asked.

"In places you don't even want to know."

The gestures they did in the next two seconds signified Draco as a new EFLP member. The leader placed a hand across his chest and gave a grin, as if saying, My hero. Draco then raised his hands and shook his head coolly like, Ah geez, it was nothin'. The other EFLP members either looked away or adjusted their eyebrows as if something inside was hurting, shouting silently, You lucky son of a--

"My name's Rafael," their leader presented, "and that over there is Roberto." Roberto gave a lopsided grin. He was EFLP number two. "That's Nikko--(EFLP number three) and that's Lloyd. We're all brothers from Spain."

"Brothers?" asked Draco curiously. "You mean like, blood?"

Lloyd gave a loud snort. "What did you think?"

There was a soft shuffle as the EFLP members, who were incidentally brothers, all returned to their beds with Rafael saying that tomorrow was a big day. Draco didn't really care if he was to serve a Weasley tomorrow morning. As long as Dinny loved him and dreamed about him (Draco choked at the mere thought of it), he was sure it was going to be all right.

*.*

Harry arrived at the hotel late that night. His feet felt like lead and his head was exploding from all the pressure he had given it within the past hours. There was another, this time on Justin Finch-Fletchley who was found on his bed by a butler, shivering and convulsing uncontrollably. The sight was dreadful.

Hermione thought that someone with the same disease might've bitten him but again, there was no bite mark on any part of his body. Who could've done such a thing? It couldn't be a spell; Hermione knew no one could manage that. Ron had a theory that it was an animal, but all of Ron theories were a fail. Could it be possible that he was actually right after seventeen years of mistakes? Harry was surprised that Ron didn't suggest that it was Snape who did it, but maybe it was because they both knew that Snape was an old coot who couldn't even walk on his own feet nowadays.

Something glinted in the dark room that made Harry turn around abruptly. Prepared to die fighting, Harry placed his fists in front of him, daring his enemy to come closer. After a few seconds of silence, Harry took a few cautious steps towards the light switch. When the lights were on, he quickly glanced towards the place where he had seen the momentary light, and instead of seeing a man holding a sword, he saw a mirror.

It was a small pocket mirror, something that could've slipped out of someone's hand easily. It was lying on the floor, towards the angle where the moon shone through the window, which was probably the reason it had glinted in the first place. Harry took the mirror in his hands and saw, with surprise, that it was not his reflection that he was seeing, but Ginny.

She was dressed in red robes that clung to her skin, and her shoulder length hair flowed on her shoulders. She was holding a microphone in her left hand, apparently, she was singing. Her face was glowing as she sang, and Harry couldn't help noticing that tears--were they happy tears?--were piling in the corners of her eyes. His room was suddenly filled with her gentle voice. Somehow, probably in a magical way, the mirror was showing him this scene as if he was there with her. Harry touched the mirror with his fingertips, smiling as he noticed that Ginny was still wearing the beaded necklace he had given her.

He wanted her to sing forever, but the song finally ended, and his room was once again filled with silence. He watched her as tears flowed from her eyes, whilst she was smiling.

"Come out," she said, happiness clearly etched in her voice. "Come out and stop pretending."

"I'm right here," Harry whispered at the same time that someone uttered the same words from inside the mirror.

Ginny turned around and laughed, while Harry felt a chill going through his spine. That voice--there was something vaguely familiar about that voice--

Harry dropped the mirror in shock, but it didn't break. His heart galloped as fast as it could, as if it wanted to break out of his chest. He grabbed the wall to stop himself from falling. Beads of perspiration began to form on his forehead, and for the first time in ten years, Harry felt really sick.

There was a note. He saw it slipping inside his door. Someone was slipping it through the little crack the door made from the floor. Coughing, Harry crawled towards the little piece of paper, trying to summon every bit of his energy to support him. The note-slipper was long gone before he had managed to reach the note, breathing hard and feeling as if he had never been as tired as he was right now.

I had a great time today, the note read, meet me again tomorrow. You know where.

The handwriting was enough for Harry to know who have sent it. First, Harry felt anger surge through him at the realization of reality dawning upon him. He wanted to break all the flasks and mirrors inside the Suite, but he stopped himself at the nick of time. Then came denial. It wasn't real. He was dreaming, of course. It was too impossible.

And then, after many hours of contemplating, as dawn started to break outside, Harry felt loneliness inside him. Nothing came next, not acceptance, not apathy, just pure loneliness, filling his body like drugs, ruining his mind like acid.

*.*

The loud, ringing bell woke Draco up. Of course, he cursed, but Creevey shook him out of bed and tossed him his old friend, the butler suit. Draco didn't even bother to comb his hair, he left it all tousled just as Creevey had left his untouched. Together, along with the EFLP gang, they walked groggily towards the main hall, to receive further instructions from the manager, Ms. Jessica Nicole.

"What do you think Jessica's wearing today?" Rafael asked Nikko sleepily, as if the day wasn't complete if he didn't bring the question up.

"Same as yesterday. That damned hot pink suit," Nikko replied, now alert. "Damn that makes me hot."

"Stop saying damn," Lloyd piped in. "I say she's wearing that white top and black mini skirt she loves."

"Hmmm...black mini skirt," Roberto moaned from behind Draco. "You know what else is mini that's so excited right now?"

All EFLP members gave a loud groan, but it was Creevey who spoke up, "Aaargh, porn early in the morning, one of the things I'd love to forget."

"Roberto named the most sensitive part of him 'Mini Roberto.'" Rafael explained with a disgusted look in his face. "Beats me why he did it. I guess it's about size, but I'm damn sure no one would be proud of that. Even Creevey here can't forget about it, but I'm telling you, I'd give anything to have Alzheimer right now, since Creevey's short-term memory loss doesn't seem to work. Nasty little thing, that Roberto is."

When they reached the main hall, all with disgusted looks on their faces, Jessica Nicole spotted them and immediately frowned. "Why do you guys always arrive with a look that tells me you don't want to work here anymore? Even our brand new Mr. Malfoy seems to be wearing that same expression of yours. What did you do to him?"

"Nothing for you to worry about Ms. Nicole," said Roberto sweetly, who was currently the only person who felt well enough to respond. "Also, may I add that I utterly adore your mini skirt."

How Nicole said "Thank you" amidst loud revolted groans and coughs, Draco may never know, for he was one of the people who had done so, except he was covering his mouth with his hands, just in case he vomited.

Nicole looked offended, but nevertheless, she continued with her morning announcement as soon as the EFLP members, Creevey, and Draco managed to control themselves.

"A Beresford servant is loyal," she reminded all of them in a suddenly strict voice, "a Beresford servant can be trusted, and most of all, a Beresford servant strives to be invisible."

"Maybe we can disappear altogether," Rafael whispered in a surly tone. Draco didn't get the joke. No one did.

"Friday update, people," Nicole announced, clapping her hands. "Rafael Jaramillo, heads up on room 354, Finnigan's wife, Lavender Finnigan, is coming in the afternoon, preferably after Parvati Patil, Mr. Finnigan's new girlfriend, leaves the room."

A loud crash was heard as Lavender dropped the glass of water she was holding. She was in complete and undefined shock. Who wouldn't be, if they see their bestfriend for years and husband lying comfortably--way too comfortably, on the couch?

With a scream that vibrated throughout the entire hotel, Lavender threw the shards of glass in the floor towards the unruly couple.

Meanwhile, Rafael Jaramillo slowly slinked away from the room, without making a sound, knowing all too well that he did an incredible job.

"Rafael, try to make the transition smooth. Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger decided to stay in the room beside Potter's Grand Suite after all. Roberto Jaramillo, do try to keep their avid fans away from their room."

"Psst--you little guy--yes, you, the one with the oversized head!" Roberto called as soon as he heard slow moans fill the room where Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger were staying.

"How old are you?" Roberto asked mischievously.

"Fourteen," the teenage boy shyly answered.

"Perfect, you're on your horny stage," he said, clapping his hands in amusement. "Listen kid, you want to see the President of the Ministry and a Falmouth Falcon Quidditch player getting it on?"

"What do you--?"

"Help yourself," Roberto said, shoving the helpless teen inside the suite hastily, a copy of their key clenched protectively in his hand. It took exactly a minute before screams filled the suite, and it definitely wasn't because they had both satisfied themselves completely.

"Draco Malfoy, you have been assigned to look into the North Suite. Remember to keep anyone who looks suspicious away from that hall. I received orders from the actress's manager to keep her away from the public."

"Whoa! We have an actress? Who?" asked Creevey excitedly while the Jaramillo brothers gave him a frustrated stare. Draco, however, was as excited as Creevey was.

"It's the multimillionaire, Ginny Weasley," Nicole answered.

Something struck Draco home. Outraged, he cried out absently, "Bat bogey hexer!"

Everyone looked at him with confused, and at the same time irritated, expressions on their faces, but Draco didn't care.

Ginny Weasley.

Oh he had a history with her all right. First, she goes around telling him to back off that dear old Potter of hers when he was having the most wonderful time of his life, humiliating Potter in front of the Daily Prophet. Then she oh so casually opens the Chamber of Secrets when it was him who was supposed to be the heir of Slytherin, and then! And then! She performs the Bat Bogey hex on him!

Draco took a moment by himself to bubble in anger. Oh, curse that Ginny Weasley! She had ruined him! RUINED!!!

"You're just famous now because You-Know-Who's in charge. But I swear, Malfoy, ten years from now, after You-Know-Who is dead, you'll be standing in my own shoes. No, scratch that--you'll be even lower."

Draco gave out a low chuckle that sounded horribly like a low moan coming from a walking zombie.

The charm.

The goddamn charm.

After ten years, that Ginny girl was a multimillionaire and what was Malfoy reduced into?

A puny butler.

Malfoy started shaking uncontrollably.

Oh man, he thought, panicking, this is bad. This is very bad...

*.*

"So," said Rafael, his face a dead give-away that he didn't understand what Draco was going on about, "you're telling us that you were you were one of You-Know-Who's allies in what was known as the dark times, was very rich and powerful, and is now a butler in the Beresford Hotel?"

"Yes," Draco agreed, nodding.

"And you're asking us to help you because the infamous Ginny Weasley, who was once poorer than a rat in a sewer was one of the people you demented and that you had cast a charm on her that makes the two of you meet after ten years, no matter what happens, just to prove that you'll still be better than her."

"Yes," Draco said.

"I don't get any of this," Creevey complained persistently. "Can't we go to work now?"

"I'm sorry to break the bad news to you, Draco, but I do think you've fallen at the short end of the charm," Nikko said, shaking his head.

"No, no, no!" Malfoy cried out in despair. "All I need is to borrow a little money from everyone--"

"Draco, Ginny is worth hundreds of you," Roberto piped in.

"Why does everyone keep on saying that? That's very insulting, you know!"

"You don't need a little money--you need a huge miracle," Lloyd responded calmly.

"Why don't you borrow some dough from that rich girlfriend of yours?" asked Rafael.

"No! I can't! That'd be too horrible to even be considered as an option!" Draco was now positively wailing.

"Just give up," Lloyd suggested.

"Give up on what?" Creevey asked.

"Right, some friends you guys are. You're forgetting something here. This," Draco then pointed to his face, his eyes sparkling.

"What?" asked Rafael without a hint of kindness in his voice. "I see a pale-faced, pointy man of twenty-seven who looks like he's dying of malnutrition. Now, tell me, what did I miss?"

"Only the physical beauty of a movie star. Just think about it. Even in this blasted uniform, with my sleek, blonde hair, soft heart-shaped and luscious lips, slender yet muscular body, gentle yet piercing grey eyes, upturned and so not pointy nose contrary to popular belief, questioning eyebrows, smooth, silky and milky skin, husky tone and sensual oh so sexy meat, I look like a mega hot--"

"Porn star." Creevey filled in.

"Stop it with the porn star! I don't like it! For your information, I was thinking more along the lines of a billionaire, and might I remind you that porn star does not work."

"So gay," said Roberto, shaking his head in sadness, "so incredibly gay."

"Okay, let's say for a minute that you do buy some nice clothes," Rafael began, preparing for the kill of reality check, "and you enter Ginny's suite, declare you're a billionaire, win the part of the deal, and get the hell out of there, but you're still forgetting something."

"I was enjoying your whole scene, although I must suggest you could add a little 'Oh, Malfoy--you were right--you are a better person than me--hug me, hold me, by Merlin, kiss me you sexy, sexy hound dog' and a whole lot of barking after that, until you started saying but. I hate that word, but. Hehe, butt," Draco laughed.

"You do remember," continued Rafael, interrupting Draco's vile thoughts for a second, "that you're in charge of her Suite?"

*.*

Ginny was more than excited for Harry to accompany her to the pictorial for her upcoming movie release. He empathized in a gentlemanly way about the whole graveyard thing, and of course, she understood completely if he couldn'ttell her who killed her father. It would be going against what the others believed in.

She checked her dress. It was her favourite one--the red dress that sparkled. She liked how the dress complimented her figure perfectly; also she liked the way it made her hair redder than usual.

She was deep in thought when someone knocked at her door, making her jump. She quickly dashed towards the door, keen to open it, expecting Harry to be on the other side.

Only this time, it wasn't Harry,

It was a girl, with shoulder-length black hair and burly shoulders. She was wearing a maid's uniform and she greeted her in an incredibly squeaky voice, "Hi, Ms. Weasley. Your wish is my command."