Breakfast at Natalie's

Malfoy was at the Billiards Room alone tonight. He sat at a table in the corner, hidden in the darkness. His Scotch was beside his hand, untouched, the ice cubes melting gradually. He watched as couples pressed their bodies together on the dance floor, remembering the Christmas Ball so many years ago.

He could not stop thinking about her. Her face was the only thing on his mind since this afternoon in the grocery store. He thought of how downtrodden she'd looked and felt anger pulse through his veins.

"Why didn't you marry me?" he said to himself. "Even if you didn't marry me, why not Weasley?" It just didn't make any sense. Hermione, sensible Hermione, making such an insensible decision. It was pure madness.

He opened his wallet and took out the business card she'd given him that day in the park.

"Call me," she'd said.

He desperately wanted to obey her. He often found his hand reaching for the telephone as if it had a mind of its own, but as soon as he heard the dial tone buzzing like a mosquito in his ear, he would lose his courage and set the receiver back down. Besides, what did he have to say to her anyway? Everything they had in common happened in the past and it was apparent that she didn't want to talk about it. No, they had nothing to say to each other.

He gulped down the watery Scotch and signaled for a waiter. He paid for his drink and stepped out onto the empty street. He began to jog, his feet pounding against the pavement. Soon, he arrived at his apartment. He took off his shoes and jacket, leaving them in a pile by the door. Wearily, he trudged to his bedroom and fell asleep on top of the covers.

---------------------------

"I can't believe it's still there," said Charlie, shaking his head as they passed the picture in the hallway.

"Well, we did put a Permanent Sticking Charm on it," said Malfoy.

"Well, at any rate, Kingsley hasn't noticed it."

"Hell have a fit when he does."

They put on their jackets and headed outside. Kingsley had sent them out to do some interrogation. Last night, an old woman had called the hotline, reporting a mysterious meeting in the apartment complex across from hers. Malfoy and Charlie got into the car, Charlie at the wheel, as usual. Fifteen minutes later they arrived at their destination. They parked the car and climbed the cement steps to apartment 6B. Charlie rang the bell.

"Yes?" The door opened slightly and an old woman peeked out from behind. "How may I help you gentlemen?"

"Er, we received a call that you saw some suspicious activity?" said Charlie uncertainly. She looked them up and down and then beckoned for them to enter.

"Ah, yes," she said, opening the door all the way and welcoming them inside.

She led them into the sitting room of her apartment, which was quite large, considering the fact that she lived alone.

"Tea? Coffee?" she offered, along with a platter of slightly stale cookies.

"I--" began Malfoy, about to accept the coffee.

"No, thank you, though," said Charlie, cutting him off. He was all business. "So, Mrs. Wilcox--"

"Wilson," she corrected. "Agatha Wilson."

"Er, yes, very well then." Charlie fidgeted in his seat. "Mrs. Wilson, could you tell us what you saw last night?"

"It wasn't exactly at night," said Mrs. Wilson. "It happened around six o'clock."

"What happened?" prompted Malfoy.

"I'm getting to that," she said, taking her time. "I was just looking down at the street--"

"Why were you looking down at the street? Were you expecting something to happen?" interrupted Malfoy. Charlie gave him a look that told him to shut up.

"I don't know," she said, giving him a nasty look. "Sometimes I just like to. Anyway, I saw a man come out from the building across the way."

"What did this man look like?" asked Charlie, scribbling on a notepad. "Can you describe him?"

"I couldn't really see him that clearly. He had his coat all bunched up around his face and he was wearing a hat."

"What happened then?" asked Malfoy, examining on of the cookies.

"Well, he came out and looked around a bit, probably making sure that no one saw him. But I did," she said proudly. "I saw him, and what's more, I saw two other men come out after him."

"Can you describe them for us?" asked Charlie excitedly, leaning forward, his pen poised.

"There wasn't much to see, frankly. They all had hats on to cover their faces. But one man came out and looked around, just like the first one did. Then the last one came out a little while later."

"Did you happen to see where they went?"

"I couldn't keep track of them all at once, but it seemed to me that all of them when off in different directions."

"Is there anything else you can tell us?"

"No," said the old woman, shaking her head. "I don't think there is."

"Thank you for your time, Mrs. Wilson," said Malfoy graciously, dropping the cookie back onto the plate. "You've been very helpful."

"Glad to be of service," said the old lady, head bobbing up and down.

"If you see anything else like this, please let us know."

"Of course, of course," she said, showing them out of the apartment. Just as the door closed behind them, the door of the apartment opposite the hall opened, and a man came out. He looked startled to see them there. Muttering, he pushed past them and hurried down the stairs. The man did not recognize Malfoy, but Malfoy knew who he was at once. It was Joseph Whittaker. He stared at the 6A engraved on the doorway, wishing he could go inside.

"Draco? Are you coming?" called Charlie from the stairs.

"Yeah," he said, his voice catching in his throat. He raised his hand to brush his fingers across the smooth wood. "I'm coming."

He gave the door a last glance and followed Charlie down the steps.

"What was the holdup?" asked Charlie, as Malfoy slid into the passenger seat and shut the door.

"Nothing," he said, clearing his throat. "I thought I saw someone."

"What?"

"No one. It was a mistake."

Charlie shrugged. "Back to the office then?"

"I guess so."

He watched the building through the rearview mirror, growing smaller and smaller in the distance.

-----------------------------

"What's the matter with you?" said Charlie, once they were back in his office.

"Nothing. I'm just thinking."

"Careful, Draco. That kind of behavior could get you into some serious trouble." Malfoy didn't even crack a smile. "It's Natalie, isn't it?"

"Wha--"

"Tell you what, if it's bothering you that much, we'll go see her right now."

"N-now?"

"We have lunch break in an hour. We'll go then."

"Fine. Whatever."

An hour later, the two of them drove to the café and took a seat at Malfoy's favorite table.

"Well, look who's here," said Emily, coming around with menus. "This is certainly an unexpected pleasure."

"Hello, Emily," he said, enunciating clearly so that Charlie wouldn't mistake her for Natalie. "This is Charlie."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Charlie," she said, smiling at him.

"It's just Charlie." He was trying not to laugh.

"What can I get for you to drink?"

"Coffee, please," said Malfoy.

"And you, Mr. Charlie?"

"I'll have--ah, I'll have coffee as well," said Charlie, hiding behind his menu.

"I'll be back in a moment."

Charlie burst out laughing as soon as she was out of sight.

"Mr.--Charlie--" he chocked between guffaws.

"Emily's a nice girl," said Malfoy defensively.

"Right. Sorry," apologized Charlie, immediately sobering up. "So which one's Natalie?"

Malfoy searched the café for her, spotting her with a pot of coffee. She was heading for their table. She stopped abruptly once she saw him sitting there.

"Natalie, why are you standing in the middle of the room?" said Emily, pulling out her notepad to take their order. "Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Charlie would like their drinks."

Natalie shuffled over, head down, and silently poured their coffee, refusing to look at Malfoy.

"What else can I get you?" said Emily pleasantly, ignoring Natalie's peculiar behavior.

"I'll have a roast beef and cheddar sandwich," said Charlie, squinting at the menu.

"I'll have--" Malfoy glanced at his menu and blurted the first item he saw. "I'll have tomato soup."

"Let me know if you need anything else," said Emily, whisking away their menus.

"So, the blonde one," said Charlie, once she was out of earshot, "that's Natalie?"

Malfoy fumbled around in his wallet for the photograph. "There," he said, placing it atop the napkin. "That's my mother."

Charlie let out a low whistle. "You're right. They look like they could be sisters--or maybe twins," he said, leaning closer to inspect the picture. He snuck a glance at Natalie, who was hunched over the counter. "I think your gal's prettier though. Her face isn't as...harsh."

"Do you believe me now?" asked Malfoy, tucking the picture back into his wallet.

"You bet I do," said Charlie, as their food arrived. "But who is she?"

"I don't know," said Malfoy, sprinkling cracker crumbs into his soup. "But I intend to find out."

They finished their lunch quickly, Malfoy scalding his tongue as he attempted to gulp the steaming soup. He drank some ice water to soothe his mouth.

"You go on ahead," said Malfoy, as Charlie rose from his seat.

"I'll be waiting in the car," said Charlie loyally.

Malfoy approached the counter where Natalie was wiping it with a damp cloth.

"Um, Natalie?" he said uncertainly. She flinched and looked over at him.

"What do you want?" she demanded in a hostile voice.

"I..." He didn't know what to say. "What's your last name?" he finally blurted.

"King," she answered without thinking. Neither of them had been expecting the question.

"Thanks," said Malfoy, heading for the door. Why was he thanking her? He sat down beside Charlie in the car and leaned his head against the headrest.

"What did you do?" asked Charlie, looking at him with concern. "Did you ask for her number?"

"No," said Malfoy. "I asked for her last name."

"What was it?"

"King."

"Natalie King," mused Charlie in a singsong voice. "Natalie King. Oh, who are you, Natalie King?"

Natalie watched as the two men drove away in their shiny car. Creeps, she thought. Why did you tell him your real name? Who knows what kind of people they are. They could be lunatics, murderers...why are you so stupid, Natalie?

She shuddered. Whoever those men were, she knew that they were different--like her. She could feel it. What did they want? She turned away from the window and went to pour more coffee. She didn't spill a single drop.

"Take that, Mr. Malfoy," she muttered menacingly.

"What was that, dear?" said the old man she was serving.

"Oh, I, uh, just wondered if you wanted any sugar for your coffee," she stammered.

"That's very kind of you, dear," said the old man. "But I wonder if I could have some salt instead? This soup tastes a little bland to me."

"Yes, of course, sir." She grabbed a salt shaker from a nearby table.

"You are too kind," said the old man, patting her hand fondly. "Thank you."

She quickly retreated to her position behind the counter.