Desk Job

Chapter Four: Here They Come

Chapter Track: Here Come the Bastards by Primus

Draco Apparated outside Duplessis Pub at a quarter to eight. The sun had set an hour before, and there was a dull chill through Knockturn Alley. The windows of the pub were like spotlights on the cobbled street and, like criminals, passerby's skittered past their warm glow with haste. Draco was early. He didn't want to keep his father waiting, and besides, Blaise had been getting on his nerves at the apartment.

"Why does he want to see you?" Blaise had asked him right before he had left.

"I don't know," Draco repeated, straightening his collar. "That's the fifth time you've asked me that tonight." He turned from the mirror and smirked at her. A lazy motion. "Why? Does my father know some earth-shattering secret about you that would just destroy me if I ever found out?"

Blaise sat on the bed, her legs folded under her. She grinned slyly.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you," she said. "You'd hold it against me and force me to be your slave." Blaise fell back onto the bed dramatically. "And if I refused to obey you'd threaten to expose my secret to the world."

"That's right," Draco said, playing along. "And after a while my presence, although highly satisfying, would start to bore you."

Blaise smiled.

"You mean annoy."

"Yes."

"And I'd try to kill you," she finished.

"Eventually."

Blaise played absently with the corner of the bed sheet.

"Too bad for you," she said.

Draco shrugged.

"Don't beat yourself up over it."

Blaise was silent as she lay on the bed. Draco watched her reflection in the mirror instead of his own. She was twirling a long lock of crimson hair between her fingers and humming a quick tune.

"If you're so keen on what Lucius has to say," Draco began before he could stop himself. "Why don't you come along?"

Blaise's faint humming was stifled, and she hesitated before replying in her most indifferent voice,

"No, you go ahead to your father-son chat. Duplessis Pub is a dump, anyway. I don't know why your family always goes there."

With that she bounced off the bed and trotted into the bathroom as casually as she could. It was too late, though. Her pause had been enough to tell Draco he had said something wrong. Draco had felt it too, when his words spilled into the open air. There had been a ghost of a feeling behind them. In his own throat the words stuck, shield less and sincere. Too hopeful. Draco felt stupid. He glanced once more at his reflection and left the apartment.

Blaise, with one ear pressed to the door, listened to the movements of the stranger in the bedroom, and didn't come out until she heard the front door slam behind him.

Now, as Draco opened the heavy door of Duplessis, the memory faded. Not the conversation itself; Draco remembered every word, every detail as crisply and clearly as if it had just happened. The frustration he had felt had faded, and like a black and white photograph the memory was left emotionless, and pushed to the back of his mind.

Draco scanned the scarce crowd of Duplessis patrons for his father. It was with an unpleasant shock that Draco spotted not Lucius, but a very unwelcome surprise sitting at a table in the middle of the room.

The man's name was Julius Malfoy, and Draco only knew two things about him: that he was Lucius' younger brother, and that he was a Muggle. The former was nice, short title that served to satisfy nosey relatives and neighbors while Lucius was growing up. The truth was, as ten-year old Draco was told by a lonely and gossipy Narcissa, that Julius's father wasn't a wizard, he wasn't even a Malfoy. Of course, Draco could have figured that out himself. Julius' hair was a dark color and he lacked the pale skin and gray eyes that distinguished the Malfoys from the rest of the nondescript wizarding world. Lucius hated him so Draco did, too. Yet, the few times in his twenty years of life that Draco had spoken with Julius, he had found him to be as every bit a Malfoy as Lucius was. Except that the man didn't have a drop of magical blood in him.

Draco approached the table slowly. Julius was reading a copy of some Muggle news paper and hadn't seen Draco yet. He was wearing his coat over a gray suit; he wasn't planning on staying for dinner.

"What are you doing here?" Draco demanded, dropping into the chair across the table.

"Well!" Julius said with a white smile. "If it isn't my favorite nephew."

Draco folded his arms and frowned. Julius looked younger than the last time he'd seen him.

"Has my father arrived?" Draco asked coldly.

Julius' smile slipped easily into a smirk.

"Not yet," he answered. "Punctual Lucius likes to arrive within a minute of scheduled time, the show off. He does it for attention." Julius checked his wristwatch. "We have about ten minutes to talk."

"I have nothing to say to you."

"That's all right," Julius said smoothly. "I'll fill in the awkward silences. I wanted to see you because I have a birthday present for you."

Draco didn't believe him. "One in twenty's not bad," he muttered.

Julius pulled a white envelop from the inside of his jacket and slid it across the table to Draco.

"I heard you finally left the nest so I thought you might find this useful," Julius told him. He leaned back in his chair and glanced through a yellowing menu.

Draco greedily picked up the envelop and looked inside. There was a pack of thin paper money inside. Draco didn't know much about the Muggle money system, but from the numbers on the bills it looked like a large sum.

"So, do you have your own place?" Juilus asked.

"Mhm," Draco replied, examining the bills.

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

Draco looked up at Julius, glaring.

"I hope you don't expect me to answer your stupid questions just because you just gave me money," Draco snapped.

Julius shrugged and said nastily,

"If you don't feel like chatting a smile would suffice."

"You can take back your filthy Muggle money," Draco spat, "I don't owe you anything."

"Keep it," Julius said, getting up from the table. "Give it to your girlfriend, your favorite charity. Buy yourself a present, Draco. You seem a little high-strung. I just want you to know that if you ever need my help, for anything, I'll be around."

"Come to think of it," Draco said sarcastically. "I do have this Muggle toaster that needs fixing."

Julius grinned, his canine teeth sharper and more pointed than the rest.

"Well, I'm off. It was nice seeing you again, Draco. Give Lucius my regards, he should be here shortly. His arthritis is probably acting up. Maybe he couldn't find his cane."

Draco gave his uncle a final scowl and Julius left the pub.

Not two minutes later, Lucius could be seen entering the old Duplessis establishment. He strode over to Draco and sat down.

"You're early," Lucius commented, picking up the same menu Julius had tossed on the table. "I hope you weren't too bored."

"No," Draco replied, pocketing the cash. "But I think I've lost my appetite."

***

Blaise lay in bed, struggling to sleep. She hated this, the moment right before sleep when her mind was unguarded against invading thoughts. The feel of the sheets reminded her of Draco. Memories of Hogwarts and home. Dark things after hours in the Astronomy Tower. From such insignificances as her first cat, Lucifer, to her first kiss. She thought of past lovers. Her hurt, inside and out. Of Draco, Roger, Dante, Klaus, and worst of all--

A knock at the door.

Blaise sat up, nervously reaching in the dark for her wand. With it she turned on the lights and debated whether or not to answer. It was very late. Had Draco forgotten his key? No, he uses magic to get in.

Another knock. Blaise got out of bed. She had heard stories of men who pretended to be repairmen or even policemen to get into a woman's home. Blaise slowly approached the door. Heart pounding almost audibly in the stark silence of the apartment, she leaned toward the door, wand at ready.

She bit her bottom lip and peered through the peep hole in the door.

Recognizing who it was, Blaise unlocked the door, swung it open, and in her great relief flew into the arms of Julius Malfoy, pressing her lips against his before he could even say hello.

***

THURSDAY

Draco Malfoy, upon arriving at work on time and -as usual- unnoticed, had decided to scatter a few loose parchments around the surface of his desk and hold a quill an inch above the paper to give the illusion of doing work while watching the glassed-in lab technicians scuttle around their equipment. While the rest of the department was in its usual frenzy of paperwork and people, Draco stared at the wizards in their white lab coats. They had mechanical movements; bend over the microscope, look, bend over the paper, take notes. They seemed so peaceful in their sterile cube.

"Nerds in their natural habitat," Draco thought, smirking on the inside.

He saw that goofy Pollocks kid drop a box of rubber stoppers. They bounced all over the floor and one of the other guys yelled at him. Draco wished he could hear what he was yelling. The man's face got all purple and his eyes bulged out. Draco bet it involved a lot of swearing.

"Malfoy!"

Draco cringed involuntarily at the sheer ugliness of Maddicott's tone. He turned around to face the great walrus of a boss.

"Malfoy, you've been bothering me to give you an outside assignment."

Draco blinked, wondering if Maddicott was trying to trick him.

"Now's your big chance." Maddicott pushed a yellow piece of parchment into Draco's hands with a snort. "Mable Krotch sent us another urgent owl this morning, saying there are some hooligans up to no good in the alley beside her house. That's her third complaint this week and every time we send someone over there they come up with nothing. The address is on that paper, file a report when you come back."

Maddicott Disapparated with a very loud pop.

Draco dashed over to the reception room and stuck his head in.

"Hey Blaise," he said quickly. "I won't be able to meet you for lunch, I have to investigate some hooligan's that are up to no good in Krotch's alley. See you!"

***

Old Mable Krotch's house was in one of the worst neighborhoods in London. The streets were littered with garbage and everyone Draco passed on the street looked like they'd kill him for an apple core. Draco began to wish he could blend in a little better; his robes attracted stares and unwanted attention. Draco glanced at the yellow piece of parchment again. He couldn't find the street on which Mable lived, but he knew it was close by. Draco didn't dare take out his wand to use a compass spell. He looked out of place enough as it was.

"Um, excuse me, miss," Draco said, approaching a woman in her twenties wearing a low-cut red shirt and a black miniskirt, standing idly on the sidewalk. "Could you tell me where Bumbleberry Street is?"

"Ah, you're cute," said the woman with a drawl worse that Draco's own. Her make-up was absurdly overdone, and she was smacking a wad of bubble gum in her red-stained maw.

"Yes, I know," Draco said impatiently. "Could you please tell me how to get to this address from here?" He brandished the piece of paper.

Draco felt a strong hand on his shoulder. He was forcefully shoved against the cold brick of an abandoned King Pin Chicken restaurant and spun around to face his assailants.

There were two men, Muggles. One was twice the size of Draco and had a firm grip on the collar of Draco's robes. The other man looked like he was about to go trick or treating. He was made up in a set of fuchsia robes and wore a large leopard-print hat and yellow sunglasses.

"Sssso," the fuchsia-clad man hissed. "Ya think you da' new pimp daddy in town?"

"What?" Draco exclaimed.

"Dis be mah 'hood," the man said, raising a cane much like Lucius Malfoy's. "Candise be mah ho, dig?"

"Are you speaking English?" Draco asked incredulously.

"Don' be actin' all inn-o-cent 'round da Slick Pimmpa' Smurf, ya know wha' m sayin', G?"

"Something about losing your cat?..."

"Man, show dis bruthafucka a lil' respect, yo."

The large thug plunged his fist into Draco's stomach, causing him to double up in pain.

The gibberish-speaking skinny one leaned up close to Draco's face.

"I be da' only pimp in dis here 'hood," his breath smelled like marijuana and raw herring. Draco might have thrown up if his middle hadn't been numb.

"Next time yo be struttin' on in here wid ya pimp-ass robes, tryin' ta pick up mah ho's, I be bustin' a cap up ya' scrawny ass, ya know wha'm sayin'?"

Draco nodded, hoping he didn't just agree to another beating. The larger guy let go of Draco's robes and he sunk to the hard concrete of the sidewalk. The two men got into a long white Cadillac with zebra-covered interior and revved away.

Wincing, Draco got up from the ground and was about to Apparate back to Headquarters- Krotch or no Krotch- until he spotted a graffitied street sign a few blocks down: Bumbleberry.

Knowing Maddicott would never let him away from his desk if he returned empty-handed, Draco staggered down the street, clutching his stomach with one hand, holding his wand in the pocket of his robes with the other.

Mable Krotch lived in a one-story piece of shit. The paint on the outside walls had peeled off years ago, and now the paint under that paint had started to peel. The windows (all two of them) were broken and taped up with plastic-wrap in a half-assed attempt to keep out the cold, bugs, beer bottles, etc. The stairs leading up to the rotted door were too weak to support a squirrel, and flock of pigeons lived on the porch.

Draco was in awe of the absolute awfulness of this building. And to think that he had thought the Weasley sty was bad!

Instead of risking the stairs, Draco went around to the alley behind the house. It was very narrow and reeked of garbage and cat urine. There was a rustling near a pile of trash cans. Draco suddenly realized he didn't want to do this. What had he been thinking, wanting to track down murderous criminals? He was a Malfoy, he didn't need this stress. He'd better leave. Oh yes, leave before--

AHHH!

Draco had turned around to find a crazy-eyed Muggle man in a dirty black track suit pointing a black, metal hand-held object to Draco's forehead.

"You're not the guy!" the crazy man cried. "They said they'd send someone in a blue shirt, not a bloke in a fucking dress!"

"It's not a dress, they're robes," Draco said cautiously, slowly pulling his wand from his pocket.

"Whoa!" the jumpy man screamed, pushing the metal weapon into Draco's head. "Don't even think about it, man. I swear, if you're a cop I'll shoot."

"Take it easy," Draco urged, while inside he was royally freaking out. "I'm not a cop."

"How do I know that, man?"

"Do I look like a cop?"

The man in the track suit nervously looked Draco up and down.

"Not really.. You look like some sorta religious nut or something."

Draco promised himself that if he ever survived to go back to civilization he'd burn his robes.

"Look, I'm just visiting my grandmother," Draco lied. "Mable, she lives right there." Draco motioned to the cracked window in the faded wall.

The aggressor glanced hastily at Mable's house while shifting from foot to foot. He kept looking from the house to Draco and back again.

"You-you sure you aren't some cop?" the man demanded.

"Swear on the Bible," Draco said solemnly.

To Draco's relief the man started to lower the weapon when the window of Mable's house creaked open and the old hag herself stuck her head out.

"I thought I called the authorities on you street punks!" she cried shrilly.

"You are a cop!" shouted the man. He raised his weapon again but was too slow. Draco had pulled his wand from his robes and uttered the Accio spell right at him. The little metal object flew out of the man's grubby hands and into Draco's as if attracted by a magnet. The man could only gape, slack-jawed, giving Draco enough time to point the weapon at him.

"Don't kill me, man," the crazy-eyed drug dealer pleaded. "I'll pay you, here!"

The man then took a wad of bills from his pocket and threw it at Draco's feet.

"An' I can have double that by tomorrow," the man sobbed. "Just don't kill me!"

Draco bent down and retrieved the cash. The wheels in his money-loving mind were in full spin.

"All right," Draco said coolly. "I'll spare your life. But I'll meet you here, same time. Bring double this, or I'll use my voodoo magic to track you down. I can make you wish you had it as good as Mable Krotch. Now get out of here."

The man nodded fiercely and bolted down the alley, nearly breaking his neck tripping over a stray cat.

Draco peeked through Mabel's window to see where she'd run to, but all he saw was a cockroach infested kitchen with a table top full of marijuana plants growing lush and full under magic-enhanced hydroponics.

"Have a nice day, Grams!" Draco called, and Disapparated back to the office.

He caught up with Blaise just as she was about to leave.

"Well," she said as they walked down the hallway together. "This day was a total waste of make-up. Got any plans for this evening?"

"Yeah," Draco answered, feeling the Muggle money weighing down his pocket. "I'm going shopping for new clothes."