To do the Unspeakable

An Unpleasant Surprise

The sound of heels clicked slowly against hard cement, echoing loudly and eerily throughout the corridors of the Ministry of Magic. The owner of those footsteps, Draco Malfoy, one of the Ministry of Magic's youngest Aurors, was striding briskly and arrogantly towards the Auror Department.

As had been common practice for all the years he had worked at the Department, he confidently strolled past his fellow Aurors; the smirk adorning his pale, aristocratic face never wavering as he hardly bothered to acknowledge their meagre presence nor the whispers and stares that followed soon after. In his opinion, each and every one of them were consequently less important than him anyway and hardly worth their weight in Knuts, much less the Galleons they were paid.

His smirk, if possible became even more pronounced. Yes, as far as he was concerned, everything was as it should be in his life.

"Malfoy!"

... or it least it had been for one brief albeit perfect moment.

Slowing down slightly, Draco turned just in time to see the person behind the booming voice - a rather intimidating, one-legged, one-eyed man - emerge from a nearby office and come stomping over to him. Unlike Draco's perfectly calm expression, this man's face was red and scowling, and he was angrily waving around a considerably longish looking parchment.

At the sight of the gruff wizard, Draco's smirk morphed into a momentary scowl, before he forced his features into what he hoped was a neutral and conciliatory expression.

"Yes Moody," he greeted the wizard pleasantly. Usually, pretending to tolerate the man was the best way to go. "What is it I can do for my illustrious boss today?"

Moody's remaining eyebrow - the other had been burnt off from a particularly powerful Incendio - furrowed deeply, making it clear to Draco that today was not one of the lucky days. In fact, Moody's current look was reminiscent of Draco's Potions professor back at Hogwarts ... right after Longbottom had spectacularly blown up a potion right in his face, that is.

Standing in front of what looked to be a very pissed off Head Auror was not an entirely favourable position to be in.

Draco automatically began to back away. "You know, sir, I've got a case I really should-"

A gnarly hand shot out to grip Draco's upper arm, effectively stopping his escape attempt.

"Get into my office," was the terse, almost growled reply.

Under the old duff's iron grip, Draco had no choice but to be propelled through the doorway and into Moody's office.

Once inside, Draco was able to pull himself out of Moody's grip. He smoothed down his rather expensive wizarding robe in an affronted manner that was more for show than anything else. It was a well known fact that Draco Malfoy hated it when people got physical with him. It was just so ... Muggle.

"No need for the histrionics, sir," he directed stuffily. "I would have come in if you had merely asked."

This time Draco certainly did hear Moody growl, followed by the door wandlessly slamming shut. The nearby paintings on the wall shook from the force of the slam, and the Auror hobbled over to his chair. He gruffly ordered Draco to sit.

Reluctantly, Draco obeyed, sinking into the chair opposite of Moody's cluttered desk.

Of course Draco would never admit it, but being in the presence of this man wasn't particularly pleasant. Along with the small fact that Moody scared even the most senior of Aurors, every time Draco looked at the man, he was unpleasantly reminded of the brief time in fourth year, where he had been sufficiently smaller, longer, hairier, and airborne without a broom. One of the worst moments in his life to this day actually, and it was hardly a consolation that this Moody had not been the one responsible for it. Draco knew that the real Moody probably would have done the same anyway. He'

Draco's forehead creased faintly when his eyes caught sight of the suspicious looking parchment Moody had before him. He had the distinct feeling that Moody's mood had something to do with him and that parchment, and he doubted it was a detailed description of all the good things he'd done whilst working at the Ministry. According to the sheer length of it, it was more likely a list of what types of clothing he had worn to work, rather than that.

Chewing on his lip almost absently as he pondered what it could be, Draco leant back into the chair and casually draped one leg over the other.

"So what is it you wanted, sir?" he eventually asked, making his voice distantly polite.

Moody, who up to that point had grown silent from perusing the parchment, stood up again. He began to pace the length of his office, his wooden leg thumping loudly every time it made contact with the floor.

"Malfoy," he began evenly, looking as though he was working very hard to reign in his anger. "Despite my initial reluctance at allowing you into the Auror Department, you have been one of the most promising Aurors to enter the Ministry since the war ended four years ago. Your magical abilities are outstanding, your results for concealing and cloaking off the chart. In fact, apart from that little indiscretion of yours a few years back, there is nothing in your records to suggest that you won't be moving your way up the broomstick in the Auror department within record time."

"Why thank you sir," Draco drawled, picking at a nail with disinterest. "When would you like me to move in to your office?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw - with a certain amount of satisfaction - as Moody swallowed visibly, the fake eye rolling madly in sync with the gnarly looking Adam's apple. That would teach the slimy oaf to bring up that indiscretion of mine.

"However--" The Auror roughly cleared his throat. "--that is until I received the reports about your most recent mission."

Ah, and there was his answer. Draco straightened up abruptly. "Jones and Haspitch were Hufflepuffs," he said defensively. "Whatever they say can't be taken too literally."

"Malfoy, you were half an hour late to your own mission!" Moody shouted, losing all composure. His fake eye just about popped out of his head.

Sucking in a deep breath, Moody stopped yelling long enough to raise a hand and push it back in. "Jones and Haspitch were forced to wait until you decided to stroll on up the raid, which jeopardised the case we have been working on for over three months!"

Draco shrugged complacently. "I had to do my hair," he lied, raising a hand to his head and flashing an endearing smile. "I'd been sending way too much time here lately and my hair was almost starting to resemble the traditional Auror haircut, which by the way is so out of date."

There was a loud thunk as Moody stamped his wooden leg into the ground. He was obviously not convinced by the lame excuse, nor finished with his outburst. With a vicious snarl, he sat back down behind his desk to point a gnarly finger halfway down the offending piece of parchment.

"Do not think for one moment that the Ministry are unaware of your snooping around Knockturn Alley. We have no less than three Aurors confirming your presence outside Borgin and Burkes the very hour before you were meant to be on that mission."

Draco crossed his arms stubbornly, and Moody, correctly sensing that Draco was not going to answer anytime soon, went on crossly. "Malfoy, you are borderline obsessed in the events surrounding your father's death, and running off at every bit of information you hear is not going to do you any good. It's. Been. Three. Years."

"Look - so what if I was at Knockturn Alley?" Draco snapped, dropping all pretences now. His eyes flashed angrily as he leant forward to glare at the other man. "And so what if I am still investigating my father's murder on the side. I have every right to find out who killed my father-"

"Your precious father was a rogue Death Eater," Moody spat, he too leaning forward over his desk. "On the run from the Ministry up until his death - so don't go spouting that he is worth all this trouble."

"HE WAS STILL MY FATHER!"

"AND YOU ARE THIS CLOSE TO GETTING FIRED!" Moody threw back, holding up two gnarly fingers only millimetres apart. "SO I THINK IT'S ABOUT TIME YOU GOT YOUR PRIORITIES STRAIGHT!"

There was a moment's standoff between the two Aurors. Draco wished dearly that the armrests he had such a death grip on was the Auror's neck. Eventually though, a still fuming Draco snapped his mouth closed and slowly eased himself back into his chair. As much as he felt angered and wronged by the whole situation with his father, he was unwilling to lose his job over it. It was on a dwindling list of what he had left in his life lately, the others on that list being his looks, his wealth and his purity of blood.

His lips couldn't help but twist bitterly at that. Moody, taking that and Draco's silence for acquiescence, calmed down somewhat.

"You really aren't cut out for any of the missions you have requested," he announced in a thicker but less harsh tone. As Draco went to protest, the wrinkled wizard added, "For one thing, they all require you to work with your fellow Aurors, and as of this moment, none of them are willing to have you as part of their team."

"Well, fine." Draco didn't care one way or another. He never liked all the other snivelling Aurors he'd been forced to work with over the past few years. He was better than all of them put together and always had been. "I work better on my own anyway."

As he said that, Draco expected the usual harsh rebuke along the lines of "there is no I in team."

Instead, a sinister smile appeared on the old Auror's face, one that Draco did not like in the slightest.

"Well Malfoy," Moody chugged slightly, unnerving Draco even more. "Don't say I didn't warn you, but I have the perfect lone mission for you."

~*~

"You want me to go undercover as a stupid Muggle in a school?" Draco screeched a few minutes later. Once again, he dug his fingers deep into the arms of his chair, his whole body fraught with tension. "You know I wouldn't have a clue as to what Muggles do in school. Plus, I most certainly will not go to back to school as though I was a fucking kid again."

Moody was far from daunted by Draco's outburst. "First of all, it's not a school, Malfoy," he pointed out. "It's a University, and the Muggles there will be your age and above." He stopped for a moment, before he continued on, looking far too pleased with himself. "Second of all, before you go there, you will be undergoing two weeks of intense muggle survival lessons, where you will learn exactly what it takes to successfully integrate with the Muggle population."

Draco's mouth went slack. Had he heard correctly? He was being forced to attend studies about Muggles?

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he stated incredulously.

Moody only shook his head. "Oh no, Malfoy. This is no joke. You got yourself into this situation by being so damned selfish."

There was a lengthy pause as Draco's mind struggled desperately to find a way out of the situation.

"Why can't you just get someone else?" he said eventually. "An Unspeakable perhaps. They're the ones that usually go undercover for ops." All the Aurors, including Draco had an equal dislike towards the Unspeakables, and Draco hoped that in this instance it would help his case.

However, Moody wouldn't budge. "There is nobody else, and you know very well that the Unspeakables wouldn't take up a case such as this."

Draco scoffed at this, but couldn't argue back that time. Moody was right. The Unspeakables wouldn't accept this sort of case. They always thought they were superior to everyone else, only accepting the most dangerous and important of cases.

At times like this, it made him wish he had had his request to join the Unspeakable Department accepted.

Moody went on, unaware of Draco's thoughts. "In fact it was an Unspeakable, Parkins, who suggested that I assign this case to you. He, like myself found it particularly - fitting." He chuckled again.

Parkins is that annoying Unspeakable who has been sending those Snape-like glares at me in the elevator, Draco realised. Prick.

Aloud he continued to protest. "Look, if there is dark activity at this Uni-visity, then I'm sure some rogue Death Eaters are involved - which of course means that I would be easily spotted. I am a Malfoy after all."

Moody looked at him as if to say 'nice try Malfoy.' "There are no Death Eaters enrolled in the school," he declared, making Draco slump back in his chair. "We checked the college records out, and from what we can tell, there might not even be any Death Eaters involved. Current evidence suggests that the people responsible are a few Squibs performing ridiculous rituals to show off to their Muggle friends."

"So it's not even a top-notch mission. It's just a search and clean-up for Filch look-a-likes," Draco grumbled, crossing his arms in a huff. "Great. Who cares about a few Squibs attempting a few magical tricks anyway?"

Moody scowled. "They are still dark magical tricks, and the Ministry is responsible for rooting out anything magical in the muggle world."

"Well that's fucking great. You've got the perfect way to get rid of me for a few months and humiliate me at the same time," Draco complained. He stood up indignantly and headed for the door. "I'm not just going to sit down and take it, you can be sure of that, Moody. I'm going to fight this."

~*~

"So this cord plugs into outlets such as these - no, no, don't poke your wand at it - Mr Malf--"

Zap.

"Well fuck," Draco muttered, glaring contemptuously at the innocent looking 'outlet'. He patted down his frazzled hair with trembling fingers.

A throat cleared. "Perhaps we should go through the safety rules again."

"Please do," Draco drawled.

~*~

After the unfortunate 'hair incident' - as it was dubbed by the Ministry of Magic, Muggle department - two weeks later, Draco astonishingly managed to survive the horrors of the Muggle world.

And now here he was, standing in front of the most atrocious looking buildings he'd ever encountered in his life. Eroding bricks, fading paint, one hell of a smell ... Draco grimaced. This must be muggle University. Joy. How all Muggles didn't just kill themselves before they got to this point was beyond him.

Still grimacing, he pushed himself through the door and up to the main desk. It didn't take long before he was given his room number - he just had to be on the sixth floor - and directed towards the nearest, decrepit staircase.

As he stopped in front of the steps, his hands tightened perceptibly around the handle of his suitcases; Muggle suitcases of course. He was after all masquerading as one, even though at that very moment he was wishing he was thousands of miles away.

It had been another huge laugh in the Auror department when Moody had informed him that when working undercover, Draco would have to adopt all aspects of a Muggle University student, including living in the on-ground student apartments.

He'd argued vehemently of course, insisting that it would have been perfectly understandable for him to just Apparate to university directly from his house. But that argument hadn't worked, and neither had his "significant other would miss me" excuse.

So what if he hadn't exactly had any significant other living with him at the time. He could have had one in the near future ... he'd actually almost asked Thursday's one night stand to stay another night just the week before. The ways in which that body could bend ... damn!

Draco sighed, hardly able to repress a wince as he remembered what had happened next at the Ministry. It hadn't been one of his greatest moments. As a last resort, he had even gone so far as to threaten to quit - pitching a fit worthy of Potterdom. But all that had achieved was a laugh thrown in his face and a derisive, "Go right ahead," as if he wasn't worth the trouble.

Still simmering with anger at the unfairness of it all, Draco sighed again as he went to pick up his suitcases again. From the main desk, the young woman behind it sent him a frown.

Honestly, Draco could care less about what the girl thought of him. He had other more important things to occupy his mind, like how he had no idea how long he would have to stay there or how long it would take until his ridiculous case would be solved. Merlin, the only thing he did know was that he would have to get used to the Muggle way from now on...

...and he was hating it already.

Beginning to climb up the stairs, he barely managed to reach the first landing of the staircase before wanting to collapse. Without a feather light charm or hovering charm, his belongings had never been heavier.

His hands itched to pull out the wand sequestered up his sleeve and just mutter the damned spells. Unfortunately, the countless lectures he'd been forced to listen to specifically stated that he was not allowed to use magic when out in the Muggle public, or when not in a dire emergency.

'It could alert the culprits of his identity and jeopardise the mission,' Draco mimicked under his breath, openly scoffing at the old Auror's words. Since the war, those words had been his most used phrase. Well, after the infamous 'Constant Vigilance', that is.

Draco snorted, bending to pick up his suitcases again. At least here at University, he wouldn't have to put up with that arse of an Auror for a while, nor his ridiculous practices. Here he would be all on his own.

Strange though. He would have thought that statement to have felt more satisfying. Instead, that eerie, hollow feeling he'd had for two weeks - ever since being officially banned from further investigating his father's case - seemed to be settling itself comfortably in the vicinity of his chest.

Telling himself that he didn't need anybody, and that that certainly wasn't the reason for investigating his father's murder, Draco grit his teeth purposefully, and set himself back to the painful task of getting up those stairs. He'd go back to finding out about his father after he solved this ridiculous case anyway. Stuff Moody and the rest of the Ministry.

He steadily built up a rhythm after the tenth step. The trip seemed much more satisfying to meet each individual step with muttered curses; oaths that insulted Muggles and their plebeian methods for everything in life.

He'd just reached the point of insulting Muggles horrible architectural talents when a blurred figure appeared from behind him and dashed past him with such speed that he was abruptly jostled out of his thoughts - and consequently to his side. Not expecting the sudden bump, one suitcase managed to slip through Draco's fingers and began to drop back down the staircase in the process.

"Damn it!" Draco swore. Forgetting about the blur, he dropped the other suitcase and spun around to chase the still falling one. It had some pretty volatile wizarding defence mechanisms that wouldn't exactly like the bumpy ride, as well as some of his favourite outfits that he could no longer have spelled clean and ironed by his house elves.

Thankfully, after merrily bouncing its way down ten steps, one of his hands managed to grab it, and Draco was able to skid to a grateful stop. He wiped one sweaty brow, his heart pounding furiously at the near miss.

Merlin, he was already sick of everything. All he wanted to do was to find his new quarters, and collapse. Why did it all have to be so hard?

He went to swing back around with the troublesome suitcase, but suddenly, the weight in his hands was lifted as an unexpected hand reached from behind him and plucked it from his grasps.

"Here, let me," a deep, masculine voice offered somewhere by his left ear.

Out of pure Auror instinct, Draco snapped straight up; whirling himself around to face the speaker so fast that the two only just managed to avoid colliding with each other.

"Whoah." The other man was the one to take a cautious step backwards, the suitcase still in his sturdy grip. "I'm really sorry 'bout that," he said sincerely. "I was running late to meet my new roommate that I hardly saw you as I ran past. Are you all right?"

Draco nodded, finally given the opportunity to look at the person who had accompanied the voice. Over six feet tall, short dark brown hair and cheery brown eyes; the man sounded plain but was anything but. He had a tall, slender body, and an easy going attitude that made Draco feel instantly at ease.

"I might be wrong, but it seems like I may be that roommate," Draco returned with a drawl, jerking his head toward the suitcases in the other guy's hand and the one still resting by the top of the staircase.

The other man laughed. "Yeah it seems that way," he replied easily, then extended his free hand out in Draco's direction. "I'm Marty Davis, at your service."

"Drake Malloy," Draco returned, taking Marty's hand in a firm grip whilst he inwardly grimaced at the name that had been assigned to him. Really, how pathetic could the Ministry get?

Marty gave a lopsided grin. "Nice to meet you," he said, not yet releasing Draco's hand. After a lengthy pause, Draco was the one to pull back, a seed of suspicion being planted in his mind. He cocked his head slightly. Could this Muggle possibly be ...

"Hey!"

Either unable or merely unwilling to, he didn't finish the question, instead turning his attention to another person who had come barrelling up the stairs and almost stumbled on Draco's other suitcase.

"Watch where you leave things, you idiots," the girl cursed before she disappeared.

Draco sent her a curse of his own - thankfully his wand not in reach - before rushing upwards to grab the suitcase, which too had been close to toppling over the edge.

"Don't mind her," Marty reassured, following Draco up the stairs. Together they managed to lug the suitcases up to their landing and down the narrow hallway. "She forgets that this is just a building one step away from being condemned, and not the old prep boarding school she used to stay at with mummy and daddy's money."

Draco could hardly snort at that, being reminded of his own life ... or at least what it used to be. He merely gave a barely there nod as if to agree then continued to follow after Marty.

"Here we are!" Marty announced a few minutes later, motioning for Draco to stop.

With trepidation, Draco did and turned to face a peeling doorway with the number 6L hanging from it. It looked hardly appealing. However, Marty luckily didn't notice Draco's woebegone expression, too busy digging his hands into his pockets.

"Where is that damned thing?" he muttered under his breath, before crying out in triumph as he pulled out a familiar set of keys. Without wasting any more time, he slotted it into the keyhole, twisted it and then pushed the door open. "Voila!" he said, stepping aside to let Draco in first. "Your new home."

Taking a timid step inside, Draco knew that Marty was waiting for some sort of reply. But it was taking all his powers just to not grimace at the sight he was met with. What Marty called his home, looked like the deserted house elf's quarters back at his father's old mansion.

A small, hardly liveable living room was what he saw first; a dingy three-seater couch - with all kinds of rubbish on and alongside it - facing a Muggle contraption Draco now knew as a T.V. Taking a few more steps inside, he looked to his right and saw a doorway leading to an even smaller looking room, the kitchen. He didn't really care much about that room though as he'd never lowered himself to cooking, and soon focused his mind on the back of the apartment, where a narrow hallway was situated. He guessed the three remaining doorways in that hallway were where the two bedrooms and bathroom were and had to restrain a shudder. Sharing bathrooms. He hadn't had to do that since Hogwarts ... although he had to admit it had sometimes had its perks.

Marty brought him back to the present with a slight cough.

"I admit it isn't in the best of conditions," he apologised a bit sheepishly, kicking an empty pizza box under the couch as he walked past. "But I don't get many roommates, and I haven't really had the chance to clean up from a bit of a birthday party I had for a friend the other night."

Draco nodded absently, and as he did so, an odd feeling, without any warning, washed over him. The other night, he mused thoughtfully. He felt as though he should know something important about this time of the year, and more particularly that date. The 30th, wasn't it? Or the 31st at least ...

Hold on ... the 31st of July, he finally realised with a start. Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived's birthday! The 22nd in fact, had the saviour-turned-Quidditch-superstar not dropped completely out of the wizarding world two years ago.

A tiny, sour smile graced Draco's lips as he remembered back to that time. According to the Daily Prophet, it had been '... the disappearance of the boy-who-had-rid-the-world-of-the-most-evilest-Dark-Lord-in-existence.' Long-winded, yes, but to this day his name and his mysterious disappearance was still a popular topic of conversation in the wizarding world.

Some people believed a cover-up where Potter had been killed by rogue Death Eaters; Draco's father a popular choice. Others swore that he had finally broken and been sent to St Mungo's in the same department Lockhart still occupied. There was one person who'd made a fortune after telling the Quibbler that he'd caught a glimpse of Potter walking the hallways of the hospital in a long, pristine white gown. Of course, he had also been the one who had sworn he saw the ghost of Sirius Black in Vanuatu.

Draco tried not to bother himself with any of those petty theories, but even as an Auror, it wasn't certain if those rumours were fact or not, or if Potter was still, in fact, alive. As far as he knew, there hadn't even been an investigation into the disappearance - well not by the Aurors at least. He wasn't sure when it came to the Unspeakable department.

Though he couldn't have cared less, Draco had to admit that Potter's disappearance was extremely unusual and suspicious. One day, he'd been the most successful Seeker for the Chudley Canon's, not to mention the top paid, then the next he'd just dropped out of both public and private view, never to be seen again.

Actually, it wasn't long after the dear Weasel's sister and brother's death that he disappeared, Draco thought, his lip curling slightly. Both had been Unspeakables and had been killed in a freak accident in some sort of an experiment.

He smirked at the sudden thought. After all those times he'd called the Gryffindork 'Potty' at Hogwarts, Potter probably did go potty after the Weaslette's death. The so- called Golden Boy was supposed to have been absolutely smitten with her, or so the rumours and newspapers had said.

As something to the far right of him clinked shut, Draco stopped his thoughts of Potter to see Marty walking back over to him with two bottles of a Muggle beverage.

"So," Marty said as he handed Draco one. "What do you think?"

Draco blinked, thrown momentarily. What was he supposed to say? He didn't know anything about Muggle accommodation. For all he knew, they all liked to live like this.

"It has - potential," he eventually said, deciding that his initial comment, 'garbage dumps have more finesse than this,' wouldn't really help his newfound image.

Luckily, Marty beamed as if it was the best compliment ever. "It's better than what James would say," he chuckled. "He told me it's one step away from being a bomb site."

Draco ignored the 'bomb' comment, still not really knowing what everything was in the muggle world. "James?" he enquired instead. Perhaps this James was Marty's friend or perhaps, as Draco suspected, something more.

"James is one of my closest friends," Marty explained conversationally, taking a gulp of his drink. "He lives just across the hall and down a bit. His was the birthday party I had here for him."

"Ah - so he doesn't approve of your - decor?" Draco asked, silently adding 'Can you blame the poor guy?'

Marty laughed, a low, rich sounding laugh. "Not at all. He says that guys like me should be better attuned to our feminine side."

"Guys like you?" Draco echoed slowly, his earlier suspicions becoming more concrete by the second. He decided it couldn't hurt to just come straight out with it and ask. "I don't mean to pry, but are you-"

"Queer? Gay? Flaming homosexual?" Marty supplied, correctly guessing what Draco was going to ask. He didn't seem offended though as he gave a nod. "I don't go around flaunting it everywhere, but seeing as you're to be my roommate for lord knows how long, I figure it is best to just get it out in the open straight away," He stopped, grinning wryly. "Well not straight away. Don't do straight very well. Hope you aren't offended."

"No," Draco said quickly, only just managing to stop himself from admitting that he was actually kind of relieved... and intrigued. "It's alright. I - I was just shocked is all. Where I - come from, it's not as openly stated."

Marty nodded in understanding. "A lot of homophobic bastards living in your neighbourhood then?"

Draco stifled a snort. Try my whole fucking family.

Unbidden, his Aunt Bellatrix's voice echoed throughout his head. "Queers are a waste of purebloods... ending centuries of precious bloodlines ... it's indefensible."

Outwardly, Draco's lips twisted upwards in a half-hearted smile as he remembered the fate of his insane aunt just weeks after what would have been the beginning of his seventh year.

"You could say that."

He mentally shook himself before looking up at Marty and going back to what he had been initially thinking. "So - are you and this James ..." he trailed off meaningfully.

Marty laughed, shaking his head. "James is no longer one I would consider as anything more than a friend. No my - uh - partner doesn't go to Uni. He occasionally stays over here, and that's why I've never had a roommate before. They haven't exactly liked my choice of - partners."

And then it suddenly and irrationally hit Draco. Why the Auror department had pushed the whole Muggle accommodation thing so much.

I bet Moody and the rest of the Department are having another great laugh at my expense, he thought sarcastically. Put Malfoy in with the poof. What a screamer. They probably expect me to come running back, begging to be assigned another case.

Well, not this time, Draco thought resolutely. He actually had the urge to laugh. This time they're the ones who underestimated me.

"Well," Marty said, and Draco focused his attention back on him. "I've got to go out for a bit but here's your key to the apartment--" He dropped a key in Draco's palm. "--and I'll leave you to unpack in your bedroom. It's the last one on the left. Oh, and welcome to the University Hall by the way."

"Thanks," Draco smiled and this time his smile was genuine as he watched Marty give him a friendly wave before walking out the door. At least something or rather someone was welcoming in this place.

~*~

"Hey."

Draco's head snapped over to the doorway, where Marty was standing. He'd come back a few hours before, but per Draco's request, had left Draco for a while longer to finish unpacking his luggage and cleaning his new bedroom.

This might have been because he may or may not have added a few inches to the depth of his wardrobe, but Draco wasn't about to admit anything anytime soon. A man had his limits after all.

"You wanna come out with me and some friends tonight?" Marty ventured cautiously. "It's just at the local uni bar."

An automatic refusal at the tip of his tongue, Draco opened his mouth to decline. Then, remembering Moody's taunting voice as he assigned him the case and the mocking looks in all those other Aurors' eyes as he left, Draco shut his mouth with a snap.

He had been planning to spend the night going over the notes of the case so far, but after the way everyone at the Ministry had treated him, why should he bother? He didn't need to spend all his time on the case. There was nothing wrong with having some fun, because no matter what everybody thought about him, he could - no would get this case solved in a jiffy, and he would once again be needed at the Ministry's Auror Department. In fact, he would be needed so much they'd be on their knees begging him to come back.

Grey eyes shone with resolve as he snapped the folder in his lap closed and discreetly waved his hand over it to wipe the contents clean.

"Sure."