Rating:
R
House:
Schnoogle
Ships:
Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Characters:
Draco Malfoy Harry Potter
Genres:
Mystery Slash
Era:
Harry and Classmates Post-Hogwarts
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Quidditch Through the Ages Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
Stats:
Published: 06/18/2002
Updated: 07/31/2005
Words: 60,498
Chapters: 11
Hits: 76,193

Malfoy, P.I.

Nancy

Story Summary:
"I'm Draco Malfoy, private investigator. I've seen a lot--I mean a lot, and I'm like sweet seventeen a lot. I thought I'd seen it all, until a pair of green eyes stepped into my office." A noir AU set in L.A. where passion and magic collide. Slashy and sexy.

Chapter 07

Posted:
01/21/2003
Hits:
5,152
Author's Note:
Author’s note:

It was very smoggy the next morning and I drove slowly to the office. I was pretty foggy myself, sipping my failsafe hangover cure as I inched along in traffic. I kept the radio off and my thoughts on the case.

Something Debbie had told me the night before nagged at me.

No one knew anything about Tom Riddle. No one knew where he worked, or where he was from, or anything about his past. Debbie had told me that it was as if he'd just appeared out of the blue five or so years ago. A phantom.

Everyone has a past. Everyone leaves a trail. Even those in the underground. You just have to know where to look. But Riddle... I remembered Green Eyes' reaction to my questions about Tom.

Then I realized that, while Green Eyes hadn't answered my questions about Tom, neither had Davis Evans.

Tom Riddle, indeed. Something about him was just a bit... off. Like watching a movie where the audio and video are ever so slightly out of sync. I thought of a line from the Bhagavad Gita, made famous in the early morning hours of a hot July day in 1945. "I am become Death, destroyer of worlds."

I came to a red light and stopped.

Suddenly it hit me. The date on the card I'd received the day before. I knew where I'd seen that date.

It was the date of James and Lily Potter's deaths.

The wind picked up and howled as it hit my car windows. It was as if Pandora's box had just been opened.

Up in the hills, the rainsoaked earth finally gave way, and the landslides began. For some people, the life they'd known was about to be rudely yanked out from under them.

*****

Jennifer was putting water into a vase of roses when I got to the office. These roses were an unusual color--dark purple, almost black. I'd never seen roses that color before. Her cheeks were flushed and she was jumpy.

"So. Roses every day. This is getting serious, Jen."

She smiled faintly. "I told him once that I liked roses. I guess he remembered. He says they're to remind me that someone's thinking of me."

"What's his name? Seems like this might turn into something and I'd like to at least know something about the guy."

"His name? It's Tom." She flushed again, just slightly. I watched her for a moment. Something was up with her, but I couldn't tell what.

"Would you try to get Edward on the phone for me? I need to talk to him about something."

"Right. Um, do you want some coffee?"

I held up my travel mug. "I'm good." I went into my office and sat down. I spiced up my coffee with a hit from the office bottle and pulled Potter's file, looking for the copies of his parents' death certificates.

They weren't there.

I frowned and went through the file again. Still not there. I walked out front.

"Did you pull James and Lily Potter's death certificates?"

Jennifer blinked at me. "What?"

"Potter's parents. The copies of their death certificates are missing from his file."

"What death certificates? Who are James and Lily Potter?"

I sat down on the edge of her desk. "Jennifer. Stop it."

Her brown eyes were honestly puzzled. "I don't know what you're talking about, Draco. Who are James and Lily Potter?"

"Potter's parents. They died in 1981. I'm looking for the copies of their death certificates that were in the file."

Jennifer shook her head. "I'm sorry, Draco. I don't know what you're talking about."

Something was wrong here. Very wrong. I studied her. Her actions seemed stilted. It was if someone were standing above her, pulling invisible strings. I got up.

"Perhaps I filed them incorrectly."

She smiled. "Perhaps you did. Oh, I left a message for Edward. He was out of his office."

"Thank you." I went in my office and shut the door behind me.

The floor of the office shook, and I grabbed my desk. The ground rumbled for a moment, and the picture of Jessica on my desk hit the floor, glass shattering. Then all was still again. Just an earthquake. I picked up Jessica's picture. She was smiling out at the world, gray eyes bright and carefree.

I wondered how long she'd remain that way.

*****

I left Jennifer to her black roses and headed to Callahan's for lunch. Gary was meeting me there. I needed a favor from him. The air was hushed and still as I drove to the bar. No wind stirred the trees. The whole world seemed to be waiting for something. I parked and walked into the dimly lit bar. Gary was already there, sitting out on the back porch. I joined him and ordered a bourbon from the waitress.

"How's the case?"

I sighed and lit a cigarette, letting the smoke linger deep in my lungs. Sure, cigarettes will shorten my life, but when you live a life like mine, that isn't necessarily a bad thing.

"It's... I don't know. I can't make sense of any of it. It's... everything's all convoluted. Even the police messed things up. It wasn't a crime scene investigation. It was a circle jerk." Gary laughed and I went on. "I wondered if I could ask you a favor."

Gary grinned at me and sipped his beer. "Name it. Always good to have people who owe me favors."

"If you think I'm investigating a cat-smuggling ring again, you're barking, my friend. All those crazy old cat ladies? Not enough money in the world."

Gary cocked his head. "Barking?"

"Barking mad. Something my mum used to say."

"Ohhhkay. One of those British things."

"Cute. I need you to follow Potter for me. He knows my car."

"Why am I following him?"

I drained my bourbon, the liquid searing a trail through my gullet. "He goes somewhere in the afternoons on Tuesdays and Thursdays, according to his secretary. I talked to her earlier today. I need to know where he's going."

"You could ask him."

"Gary, you know I can't do that. Clients lie all the time. Potter's lied to me before. I don't know that he won't do it again."

"What did he lie about?"

"He told me he hadn't seen someone in years, when in fact he had seen that person very recently, and on a monthly basis."

"LaMorte, right?" He didn't sound surprised.

I studied him. "How much do you know, Gary?"

He shrugged nonchalantly but the gesture seemed overly casual, as though he were forcing it to appear that way. "I heard a rumor about some blackmail. I don't know why LaMorte was blackmailing Potter, but I heard he was. So maybe he lied to you about that."

Easily half of the people in this city are up to something they don't want the other half to know about. Realizing that Potter was in the former half made something inside me contract.

"Yeah. He lied about that. Did a pretty convincing job of it, too." I ordered another bourbon.

"Maybe he was embarrassed."

"Yes, and maybe he underestimated me when he thought I wouldn't find out." My voice was bitter. The air was smoky on the porch, and, in the booth just inside the doorway, a hooker was giving an old man a hand job. Outside, trash flew on the sidewalks as the wind picked up.

I could tell that Gary was choosing his words carefully when he spoke, like a soldier picking his way through a minefield. "We all have things in our past we aren't proud of. Even Potter, I'm sure. This case is messy. Don't make it more complicated by doubting your client."

"I don't need a Greek chorus, Gary. Will you follow him or not?"

He nodded and finished his beer, the mug disappearing in his huge hand. "I'll follow him for you. I'll let you know what I find out."

Inside, the old man sighed and the hooker slid out of the booth, wiping her hands on a napkin.

"Thank you. I'm sorry if I was short. Just been one fuck of a weird morning."

The waitress came back to the table and we both ordered corned beef on rye. Gary got another beer and I started on another bourbon.

"What's been so weird about it? The earthquake? It is earthquake weather, after all."

"No, not that. Jennifer is acting very strangely."

"She's a woman," Gary pointed out, as if that should explain it all. "Maybe it's time for the crimson tide? My old lady used to get homicidal around that time."

"Jennifer seems to have lost her memory. I was looking for Potter's parents' death certificates in his file. They were just found dead. No marks on them at all. Nothing wrong with them. No cause of death listed. Somehow, that's got something to do with the case. Jennifer acted like she'd never heard of James and Lily Potter. She didn't know what I was talking about. I'm the one that got sapped. I should have memory loss, not her."

"You got sapped?"

"Yeah. The other day. In the office. So... where are his parents' death certificates?"

We both paused as the waitress brought our sandwiches. She winked at me and sauntered off, hips swaying like a hula dancer's. I didn't smile back. She was wearing too much makeup and trying too hard.

"Maybe Jennifer was just messing with you. Women like to do that, you know. Mess with your head."

I thought of Jennifer and her deliberate movements as of that morning. "No, she wasn't messing with me. I think she really didn't know what I was talking about. Maybe Tom really is fucking her brains out. Literally."

Gary choked on his sandwich. Finally catching his breath, he looked up at me. "What?"

"Oh, she's got a new man. His name is Tom. He sends her roses every other day."

"Have you met him?"

I shook my head. "No, I haven't."

Gary made a noncommittal noise and our eyes met.

We were thinking the same thing.

*****

After lunch, Gary and I went our separate ways. I headed back to the office and he headed for Potter's office building. Gary was better at trailing people than anyone I knew, including an FBI agent I'd once dated. Gary would find out what Potter was up to in the afternoons. I wondered if Potter was meeting a lover. Perhaps someone who was married, so that they could only meet during the day... I pictured him, green eyes dark as he slowly pulled off his tie, then unbuttoned his shirt, reaching out with warm hands to pull me closer to him...

I shook myself out of my reverie and turned the radio on to a classic rock station. A song I hadn't heard in a long time was playing.

"The sirens are screaming and the fires are howling way down in the valley tonight... There's a man in the shadows with a gun in his eye and a blade shining oh so bright...There's evil in the air and thunder in the sky and a killer's on the bloodshot streets..."

It flashed into my mind then that, unlike a bat, I was heading into hell.

Turns out I was right.

*****

Edward still hadn't called me back when I got to the office. Jennifer was off to lunch, but her perfume lingered in the air. She hadn't been gone long. If my theory about Mr. Magic was right, she could be in trouble. I wondered how I would tell her. Sighing, I sat down at my desk and the skies darkened. The sidewalks were empty below me and I turned, looking out the window. Lights blinked on as the shadows gathered over the cruel metropolis. Takes a lot of lights to make a city. Somewhere in the distance, a siren cut the sultry air and a neon sign blinked on and off, filling my world with garish red light.

I don't know how long I sat there, cigarette smoke wreathing around me. The phone rang, startling me. Jennifer still wasn't back from lunch. She'd been gone a long time. I picked up the phone.

"Malfoy."

"Oh, good, you're there." It was Potter. Some little part of me brightened at the sound of his voice.

"I'm here. What's up?"

"Well, I just hadn't talked to you in a while and I was wondering how the case was coming."

"It's been an interesting few days."

"Damn it... Hold on..." He put me on hold, and I listened to Mozart's Serenade for 13 Winds while I waited. Potter came back on after a few minutes.

"Are you still there?"

"I'm still here. Sadder and wiser, but still here."

"I'm sorry. Something's come up and I have to go. I'd really like to talk to you, though."

"Any time, Potter. What would be good for you?"

He hesitated. "Well, I hate to ask you, but could you come by my house tonight? Around six?"

The thought of going to Potter's house aroused a feeling in me I couldn't identify, but I agreed. "Sure. I'll be there."

"Great. I really appreciate it. I'll see you at six, then."

We disconnected and I looked at the phone. I was feeling antsy at the idea of going to Potter's house, but I told myself that it was just business.

Just business. I sat back and lost myself in a haze of whiskey, regret, and longing.

I felt like it was raining all over the world.

*****

I hadn't heard back from Gary by the time I left the office at five, nor had Jennifer come back from lunch. I'd called her cell a few times, and tried her at home, but there was no answer. A vague disquiet settled itself in my stomach. I locked up the office and went out to my car. The rain was still falling. Watery neon light reflected off the windows of my office building.

I paused. I was being followed.

Somewhere off to my right, two tomcats yowled as they faced off against each other, one soon to become a victim in a predatory world. In the alley, a hooker was on her knees in front of a boy who looked to be maybe sixteen. A rat scuttled across my path and paused, whiskers twitching, then ran under my car.

Something brushed across the back of my neck.

Someone laughed.

Answer echoes floated off the brick walls, dying, dying, dying.

*****

The skies were flat black when I pulled into Potter's driveway, but his house was lit. I thought of an old Eagles song.

"Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light... my head grew heavy and my sight grew dim... Thought I'd stop for the night..."

I walked up to the front door and rang the bell. I heard Ginger barking, and then Potter opened the door.

He was wearing a tux.

I couldn't breathe. He looked at me inquiringly, hair slicked back, green eyes dancing above a double-breasted tuxedo with black tie.

"I... I... you said six... so... the case..."

Great. Now I was starting to sound like one of those people that claim to have been abducted by aliens.

He smiled and something melted inside me. "Come on in. I've got a business dinner to go to, but not for a while."

Ginger rushed up to me, tail wagging. Potter told her to sit, and she did. She offered me a paw and I took it. He smiled fondly at her.

"She's a good girl. I wonder... if something happens to me... I wonder what will happen to her."

My voice, when I found it, was hoarse, probably from the cigarettes. "If... something happens... I'll take her. I've always liked dogs."

His green eyes were brilliant in the warm light. "You would? She really likes you. I know you'd give her a good home."

"I have a cat who might not like it at first but he'll adjust."

Potter sat down on a chair and I sat on the couch, facing him. "What kind of cat?"

"Just a cat. Tabby."

"What's his name?"

"Marlowe."

He laughed, and it was a wonderful sound. "That's a very fitting name for the cat of a private detective."

I grinned. "I thought so. He's really smart, too."

"Does he have stripes or spots?"

"You know, that's what's funny. I guess their coat changes as they age. He used to be striped but now he's almost all spots. His fur is reddish now, too."

"How long have you had him?"

"Oh... about two years now. He's good company."

Potter smiled and stroked Ginger, who was sitting beside him. His face softened as he looked at her. "I've had her for a couple of years. She's an older dog, and they often have a hard time getting adopted. Everyone wants puppies. But when I saw her... I couldn't let her die. So she came home with me."

He certainly wasn't sounding like a cold-blooded killer at the moment. I looked at his hair, slicked back, and wondered how he got that lightning-shaped scar. Then I wondered what it would feel like to run my hands through that black hair as he moaned softly in my ear.

Then I shifted position on the couch as the effect of those thoughts made itself known.

Potter stood up. "Can I get you a drink?"

"S-Sure. Bourbon, if you have it."

"Would you like it straight up? Or do you want it on the rocks?" His eyes met mine and oh God, he was flirting with me. I felt a rush of blood to my cheeks. "Tell me how you want it, Malfoy."

"Straight up is fine."

"You like it straight up? Good. I do too. Pure and unadulterated."

I wet my lips, mouth suddenly dry, and his eyes were smiling and I felt that smile all the way down to the inseam of my pants. He walked over to the bar, and his tuxedo fit him very well indeed and I crossed my legs. The room was quiet as he poured my drink, save for the clink of crystal on crystal. He brought me my drink and his fingers brushed mine as I took it from him.

He raised an eyebrow and the light caught the gray hair at his temples and those eyes were still sparkling and his hair was starting to revert to its usual messy state but he was utterly composed as he sat down with a drink himself.

I hastily swallowed half my drink.

"Tell me a bit about yourself, Malfoy. I don't know anything about you." He crossed his legs and sat back in the wing chair.

"I... well, I was born in England. My mother left my father when I was about five and we moved over here. I went to school here in Los Angeles, and then went to college at Harvard. After I graduated, I worked as an investigative reporter for the Baltimore Sun. Then I moved back to L.A."

"Have you ever been married? Any kids?"

"I... I, um, was married. One daughter. Jessica. She lives with her mother in Baltimore."

Potter cocked his head. He seemed genuinely interested but I was trying in vain to think of a way to change the subject. "How old is she? Jessica?"

"Nine. Her mother and I met in college." Great. Now he had me volunteering information. My usual reserve was fading and I didn't like it one bit. Those green eyes pinned me under their gaze. Just the facts, I told myself. He's just a client.

"Harvard, eh? Good school. What was your major?" he asked, running a finger along the rim of his glass.

"E-english." Which I seemed to have lost command of. I drank more bourbon and started to relax. "I was the editor of the Crimson. That's the, um, school paper."

He smiled again. "I'll bet you were good at it. I'll bet you're good at a lot of things."

Yeah, I was relaxed now. I lobbed the ball back into his court. "I'll bet you are too. And I'll bet you're willing to try new things."

His smile this time was positively wicked and I was enchanted. "I confess to being a bit adventurous. I don't mind if things get a bit rough."

"You like staying on top of things?"

"For the most part. It depends on my mood. You?" His smile was predatory and for a moment, I was reminded of Tom Riddle and his long, elegant fingers.

"I... I... it depends. On my mood," I stammered.

His eyes grew just a bit darker. "Tell me about your mother and father. Are they still alive?"

"My mum died five years ago. I think my father is still alive, although I'm not sure. He's still in the U.K."

"What were their names?"

"Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy."

Potter blinked. "Lucius? That's an unusual name. Puts me in mind of Lucifer." Then he frowned, as if just remembering something.

"From what I can remember, they had quite a few traits in common," I replied shortly.

He glanced at a clock and sighed. "I hate to cut this short. I really should get going. I do appreciate you stopping by, however."

It was just then that I realized we hadn't discussed the case at all. "We could meet sometime. Just give me a call and I'll fill you. In. On the case." And oh God, I was blushing. I hadn't blushed in years.

Potter didn't seem to notice my Freudian slip, for which I was thankful to every deity that existed. He got up and walked me to the front door. Ginger stood at the step that led down to the entryway.

The earth rumbled again and the floor shook. I put my hand on the door to steady myself and Potter stumbled, grabbing onto me to catch his balance.

We were standing very close together. He looked at me, then leaned in and kissed me very softly.

He kissed me. Something electric flowed through me and I kissed him back, just as softly. He deepened the kiss and as his tongue met mine, I was filled with green fire again and I moaned softly.

I didn't want this to end.

I didn't want to leave him or the sanctuary of his home.

I didn't want to lose him.

He pulled away, smiling at me. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, then."

I couldn't think. I could barely speak. I finally nodded and blindly made my way to my car, hands shaking as I tried to unlock it. I finally succeeded and got in, mind whirling. I drove down out of the hills, into the harsh mean streets of my world. I turned on the radio, but the news was on and the announcer was going on about some man who'd monogrammed his wife with the kitchen cutlery and then pushed her in the pond out back of their home to drown. I snapped it off.

I went to Callahan's. I knew drinking was dangerous. But it made the shadows go away. Helped me forget one from so long ago. Maybe I'd forget sandy hair, laughing blue eyes, and biceps that would make you believe in a higher power.

Maybe I'd remember the rules again. Potter was a client. And I don't get personal with clients.

Maybe I'd forget that kiss.

But maybe I didn't want to.

I sat at a table in the back. A TV droned in the background and replayed the night's events in my mind. I grabbed a napkin and a pen and began making notes. I thought about my father. I thought about the poem in the book Marlowe had knocked on the floor. I thought about Jennifer's strange behavior.

Potter's parents had just seemingly dropped dead. No reason could be found. Just like my mother. All were British.

And now their death certificates were missing.

Tom himself was a phantom, but I knew that he was British.

I doodled on the napkin, drawing arrows, interlacing facts of the case.

They all led to one conclusion: I was going to have to go to England. I was going to have to face Potter's demons.

I didn't know I'd find my own demons there as well.

*****

I woke up slowly, disoriented. I was in a strange room, and a strange bed.

Someone was in the bed beside me. From what I could feel pressed against me, it was a male. We were both nude.

I froze and looked around the room. The walls were cream, with very little decoration, save a few unobtrusive hotel-style paintings. Hardwood floors. A window to my right let in feeble gray light. It was very early morning. An empty bottle of bourbon was on the nightstand beside me.

"Good morning, lover," the man beside me said, nuzzling my neck.

I turned over, and looked into Tom Riddle's amused blue eyes.