Breakfast at Natalie's

"We've been found out," said the tall man.

"By who?"

There were four men sitting around a round table in the private room of MacKinnon's. One of them was very rotund, one was bald, one had a mustache, and one was tall. It was he who spoke now.

"The old woman across the way. I saw two men go into her apartment. Detectives."

"Aw, come one, Derek," said the bald man, though the tall man's name wasn't really Derek. None of them knew each other's real name. It was for their protection. "It's nothing to worry about."

"Shut up," growled Derek. "She's only seen three of us, but that's enough. She's told the detectives and now they want to investigate. We can't keep meeting at Ritchie's apartment."

"But where will we meet?" asked the mustached man, who they called Ritchie.

"We'll rotate," said Derek. He unfolded a piece of paper. "See here, we'll meet at different places each day. Mondays at Carl's, Tuesdays at Ritchie's, and Wednesday's at Dave's."

"Isn't that kind of predictable?" asked the fat man.

"Don't be stupid," said Derek. "We're going to switch it up every month."

"Well, I think that's stupid," argued the fat man. "Why don't we just draw names out of a hat?"

"Hmm," pondered Derek, "that's actually not a bad idea."

"Why can't we meet at your place?" piped up Dave.

"I have a wife," snapped Derek. "She always gets home early to take care of the kids."

"You're married?" said Ritchie. They didn't know much about each other's personal lives, but they knew the least about Derek.

"I don't wear my ring," he said, shrugging. "My wife doesn't really care. She doesn't wear hers either."

"I have a girlfriend," said Dave. "Her name--"

"Shut up!" roared three voices simultaneously.

"Tomorrow we're meeting here," said Derek. "We'll have to stay a bit late. Maybe until eight or later."

"What about your wife?"

"I'll tell her I'm going to dinner with my buddies, which is technically not a lie." He threw some money on the table. "We need to get this order sorted out. Rob says he can get us twenty grand for the lot."

They all stood up and put on their coats.

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

Early the next morning, Malfoy was busily filling out forms. There was an endless amount of paperwork, and he slowly chipped away at the pile beside his desk.

"Draco!" His office door suddenly burst open and Pansy Parkinson waltzed in, a strong, flowery perfume trailing in with her. Malfoy was so astonished that he caused a great ink blot to appear in the middle of his signature. She threw herself at him and embraced him, her short, clingy dress riding up on her tanned thighs. "How are you, darling? It's been way too long." She let go of him and leaned back to inspect him. "You're entirely too skinny," she said, poking him with an expertly manicured finger. "Doesn't your wife feed you?"

"I'm not married," he said, still reeling from her sudden appearance.

"Not married?" she gasped. "Why ever not?"

"I don't know." He shrugged.

"That's a shame," she clucked. "I'd marry you if I wasn't already married." She tottered over to the door in her sparkly high heels and called out: "Greg! Greg? Don't just stand there! Come and see your old friend."

Greg? He didn't remember having a friend named Greg.

"Don't be shy, silly," said Pansy, dragging in a man who looked exceedingly uncomfortable in his suit.

"Hi, Draco," said Goyle. God, he would know that voice anywhere. "Long time no see."

"Goyle?" Malfoy's jaw dropped. He was nearly unrecognizable. Malfoy marveled at how much Goyle had changed over the years. All the fat had been replaced by lean muscle, and his short buzz cut suited him well. "How have you been?" he said, getting out of his chair to shake hands.

"Not bad," said Goyle, still a man of few words. "You?"

"Can't complain. Sit down, sit down," he said, conjuring plush armchairs and squeezing them in a corner of the tiny office. "Anything to drink? Coffee? Tea?"

"No, no," said Pansy, as Goyle shook his head. "We've just had lunch at the most charming little place." She patted his hand. "Isn't that right, dear?"

"Oh," said Malfoy awkwardly. "So what brings you here? Last I heard, you were in Paris."

"We've come to share the good news with you," said Pansy excitedly. "I've finally convince Greg to quit his job as a bodyguard to the head of the French police. He was taking culinary classes at night school. Now he's going to do what he loves best--make pastries!" She beamed at Goyle and he blushed.

"Er, pastries?" He wondered if he'd heard right.

"You know how much Greg's always loved cooking. Well, he's been wanting to become a pastry chef, and yesterday one of the top restaurants in London hired him!"

"Really?" He looked at Goyle, who nodded. "That's--that's great."

"We're hoping that if things go well, someday he'll have a bakery of his own." She clapped her hands together. "Anyway, we wanted to invite you to dinner tonight. You know, to celebrate. What do you say?"

"I--that'd be--yes. Yes, I'd love to. But I'll need to check my calendar," said Malfoy. "What time?"

"Oh, say six or so. I like to eat early. I was thinking of going to that Thai place across the street. We'd invite you to our apartment, but the furniture hasn't arrived yet."

"Maybe some other time then."

"I'll make crème brulee for you," offered Goyle.

"That's my favorite," said Pansy. "You'll have to come over soon. I'll call you--or owl you."

"Sure," said Malfoy, reaching into his desk drawer for a business card. He handed it to her. "That's my number. I've got one of those Muggle mobile phones too."

"Oh, me too!" said Pansy, pulling out a bright pink phone. "I never thought you would be the type to have Muggle things, Draco."

"'When in Rome, do as the Romans do,'" he quoted.

"Au revoir," she giggled. "Oh, and call me if you can come. If you can't call anyway." She and Goyle left and the office was quiet again.

He sank back into his leather office chair. Goyle and Pansy, married...it was truly bizarre. Now he had an idea of what people must've felt when he and Hermione had been dating: utterly baffled.

Hermione...he should probably call her. He'd promised. He fumbled in his desk drawer again for his wallet, and pulled out her card. He picked up the receiver an dialed her number.

"What was--oh, sorry," said Charlie, who had just stuck his head inside the office. "I'll come back later," he mouthed, backing out and shutting the door.

One ring, two rings...

"Hello?" said a woman's voice.

"Um, hi," he said nervously. "Is this Hermione Granger?"

"Who is this?"

"This is Draco..."Malfoy," he added as an afterthought.

"Oh, Draco! It's me."

"Oh, you sound so different on the phone." His palms were sweating. He switched hands.

"Yes, I know. Everyone tells me that. How are you?"

"Fine. You?"

"I'm alright. Is there a reason you called? I mean, besides to chat. We really need to do some catching up." She laughed nervously.

"I..." Why had he called? He wasn't really sure. "Do you want to come to dinner with me tonight?" he said suddenly.

"Oh, Draco, I--"

"Pansy and Goyle--I mean, Greg--invited me to dinner, and I don't want to go alone, so..."

"I'd love to, but my husband's going out tonight, so I have to look after the kids..."

"Bring them," he suggested. "I'm sure Pansy won't mind."

"I..."

"You don't have to," he said quickly. "I mean, if you'd rather--

"I'll come," she said.

"If you really don't want to, it's okay--"

"I'm coming, Draco."

He inhaled sharply. "That's great. I'll call Pansy--"

"What time?"

"Meet me in front of the Ministry at a quarter to five."

"I'll see you there."

"See you," he said softly, but not hanging up.

"Draco?" There was crackling on the line.

"Hmm?"

"I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," he wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come. He hung up on her, his hands trembling.

He pushed open the door to Charlie's office and let himself in.

"Who were you calling?" asked Charlie, looking up from his desk. He crumpled up the picture he'd been drawing of Kingsley.

"Just a friend."

"Who was that woman?" asked Charlie, tilting his chair back on two legs.

"Oh, I went to school with her," said Draco vaguely.

"She's cute," said Charlie.

"She's also married."

"Of course, all the good ones are taken. What a shame."

"You're engaged."

"Don't worry," said Charlie, throwing the wad of paper across the room. "I'm not having second thoughts or anything. I was just saying."

"I'd better call her," said Malfoy, excusing himself. "She's invited me to dinner tonight."

"Lucky bastard," muttered Charlie, as Malfoy left the room. He gazed fondly at the picture of Liz. "But not luckier than me."

Back in his office, Malfoy dialed Pansy's number.

"Hello?" she said, picking up almost immediately.

"Hi, Pansy? This is Draco."

"Oh, hi! So, can you make it tonight?"

"Yeah, but do you mind if I bring someone? She has to bring her kids along too."

"Not at all. The more, the merrier!"

"Great, see you then."

"Oh, wait. We're not going to that restaurant. Greg says that Thai food gives him indigestion, so we're going to this place called Mackinnon's. We saw it on the way back to the hotel. It's a bar and grille."

"Sure, whatever."

"Okay, see you then.

"See you."