Breakfast at Natalie's

The following day, Malfoy rolled out of bed and realized that he was late for work. He hastily brushed his teeth, and without even changing out of his pajamas, Apparated to the nearest Floo Travel Network. He threw of handful of the shimmering powder into the fireplace and stepped inside.

"Ministry of Magic!" he shouted, and the flames roared and spun around him. He toppled out of the fireplace, brushed the soot off his pajamas, and jabbed impatiently at the elevator button. The golden doors slid open and he stepped inside. He darted out as soon as the lift came to a halt, the calm female voice announcing that he had arrived at his destination.

"Good morning, Mr. Malfoy," said Miranda, the secretary. "You're late for work today." She raised her sculpted eyebrows, taking in the plaid flannel.

"I didn't hear my alarm," he said sheepishly.

"There's a fresh pot of coffee in the lounge," she said, scribbling something onto a purple notepad.

"Er, thanks," he said. He pushed open the door to the locker room where he kept spare clothes. He quickly showered and dressed, eager to have his morning coffee.

"Hey, there," said Charlie, spotting him in the lounge. "Where were you?"

"Missed my alarm," said Malfoy, pouring a mug of coffee for himself. It couldn't compare to the kind he usually drank, but cheap coffee was better than no coffee.

"By the way, Kingsley wants to see you in his office," said Charlie on his way out. Malfoy groaned and abandoned his coffee.

He strode down the long hallway and poked his head into Kingsley's spacious office.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes," said Kingsley, swiveling around in his chair. "Where were you?"

"Didn't hear my alarm," he explained wearily.

"Don't let it happen again," said Kingsley, frowning.

"Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir. It won't happen again." He thought it was highly unlikely that his boss had called him in merely to discuss his tardiness, so he decided to wait in case more was forthcoming.

"I expect you've heard about the Smuggling Gang?" said Kingsley after a long pause.

"The smuggling gang, sir? Which one?"

"I meant, the Smuggling Gang. You've heard of them?"

"Can't say I have, sir." Malfoy was puzzled. Why would his boss ask him about smuggling gangs? It wasn't his area of expertise. "I thought Watkins was your market-man."

"Indeed, Watkins keeps an eye on the market for me. Very impressed with his work," said Kingsley fondly. Malfoy felt slightly irritated. Why was his boss praising Tim Watkins? All he did was watch for any signs of illegal activity in the business world that involved wizards. He certainly never had to go out and risk being shot or killed. "Anyway," continued Kingsley, "I want you to find out as much as you can about this gang and then track them down. I'm putting both and Charlie on it."

"Yes, sir," he said obediently. "But, sir, why have you just called in here? Why not Charlie as well?"

"Well, to be frank," whispered Kingsley, "Charlie interrupts too often. Don't tell him I said that."

"I won't, sir." He left the office. Well, this was certainly an interesting case, though not quite as interesting as the Pumpkin Juice Murder he and Charlie and worked on previously. A young wizard had poisoned his grandmother in order to inherit her estate so that he could sell it and pay off his debts. They never would've caught him if he hadn't accidentally poisoned the rest of his family by hiding the powder in the sugar bowl. Some people are just too brainless to be criminals, thought Malfoy shaking his head.

"Hey, Charlie," he called to his partner, who was currently playing Exploding Snap.

"Please don't explode, please don't explode..." he mumbled, pacing the last card on the tower. "Yes!" he shouted triumphantly, just as there was a bang and a puff of smoke.

"Charlie?"

"Huh?" said his partner, coughing and shoving the cards back into his desk drawer. "What did Kingsley want?"

"We've got a new assignment," said Malfoy, sweeping aside a stack of parchment so he could perch on the edge of Charlie's desk.

"An assignment? What sort of assignment? It's been ages since we've had anything good," said Charlie, brightening visibly. "Wait a minute, why didn't he call me in there?"

"No idea," lied Malfoy. "Anyway, it's something about a smuggling gang. We're supposed to track them down."

"Isn't that Tim Watkins' job?" said Charlie, frowning slightly.

"That's what I said. But no, Watkins is the one who detects illegal activity. We're the ones who have to stop it."

"So what do we know about these guys?"

"Nothing," said Malfoy. "Which is why we're going to see Watkins right now."

Charlie followed Malfoy out into the hallway and knocked on Tim Watkins' office door.

"Come in," said a voice from inside.

Malfoy pushed the door open and they entered the tidy office. Watkins peered at them from behind his horn-rimmed spectacles.

"How may I help you?" he said condescendingly. Time Watkins had a rather high opinion of himself and treated everyone with disdain (except, Kingsley, of course).

"Boss says you've got news about a smuggling ring," said Charlie from the doorway. "We need some information."

"Ah, yes," said Watkins, opening a file drawer and pulling out some papers. "I believe this is what you're looking for." He shoved the papers into Malfoy's arms. "Shut the door on your way out."

"What a snob," remarked Charlie, as Malfoy dumped the stack of paper onto his desk.

"That's just the way he is," said Malfoy, shrugging. He cleared away the half-empty coffee mugs that lined his desk. "Help me look through some of this stuff."

Charlie obliged, and they spent the next couple hours poring over the papers.

"Okay, so what do we have so far?"

"Not much," said Malfoy, glancing down at his notes. "They call themselves the Smuggling Gang, they sell firearms and illegal drugs, and there are perhaps three or four men involved."

"Well, it's a start," said Charlie optimistically. "I'm sure we'll be able to dig up some more information. After all, we are the best team of Aurors in the entire department."

They guffawed heartily. It was a joke between the two of them. In reality, they were probably the worst, most inefficient team Kingsley had ever hired. They usually spent more time goofing off than actually working on their assignments. They'd only solved about a third of their assigned cases, but Kingsley was reluctant to fire them because they had a knack for solving the more difficult cases.

"Maybe someday we'll be up on the wall next to Potter," joked Malfoy. Harry way an Auror as well, not to mention on of the top Aurors. He'd managed to solve nearly ninety percent of his cases, but only because he was so incredibly paranoid that he felt the need to investigate everyone and everything. His picture currently grinned sheepishly at them from the "Auror of the Year" frame. He had been too modest to pose for the picture, and in the end only Kingsley's threat of demotion persuaded him to stand still while the photographer snapped the photo. Malfoy glowered at it every time he passed it in the hallway.

"Actually," said Charlie, retrieving something from behind the filing cabinet, "we don't have to wait any longer. Ta da!" He turned the large picture frame around to reveal an enlarged photograph of himself and Malfoy, "Aurors of the Year" penned in dark ink across the fake gilded frame.

"Why is that in my office?" said Malfoy between sniggers. It was a picture of them from last year's Halloween party. Kingsley had invited everyone from the department and encouraged them to wear costumes. Charlie and Malfoy had gone as showgirls, sporting fake busts and sequined leotards. Kingsley had not been pleased.

"Everyone goes in and out of my office," shrugged Charlie, "I didn't want it to get stolen."

"It's brilliant," said Malfoy. "When are you going to put it up?"

"During lunch break, when everyone's left the office."

"I'll help," said Malfoy eagerly.

At noon, the floor began to empty as people went out to lunch.

"Hold down the fort while I'm gone," said Miranda, sticking her head into Charlie's office.

"Will do." She closed the door and left, the thumping of her high heels muffled by the carpet.

They waited until all the offices were empty.

"I think the coast is clear," said Charlie, motioning for Malfoy to follow. They tiptoed down the hallway and came to a stop in front of Harry's picture. Malfoy removed it with a flick of his wand.

"Careful now," cautioned Charlie, as Malfoy anchored the picture to the wall. He gave the frame a final tap.

"There." He stood back to examine it, nodding satisfactorily.

"Permanent Sticking Charm?"

"Already done." They high-fived each other, gazing fondly at the picture of themselves downing martinis, lipstick smeared across their faces, wigs hanging askew.

"Let's get some lunch now," suggested Charlie. His stomach growled audibly.

"What about Potter's picture? We can't just leave it here."

"Seems a shame to throw it out," mused Charlie. "I think it'd be nice as a dartboard though."

"No, even better. We should decorate it and give it to him for Christmas." They stowed the picture behind Malfoy's filing cabinet and happily went to the small sandwich place across the street.