Tarte Noire Around and About Vertick Alley

Part II - Right on, Ron (December 13, 2002)

Sometimes I hate my life. Like, a lot.

There was the time when Hermione went to the Ball with Viktor Krum. He was my hero and, as I now realise, I had the hugest crush on him. There was coming out to the media at a Quidditch game last year and being on the front page of the Prophet for weeks.

And now we have a 'team meeting' to assign serious roles in a classified case. The Bullstrode case, I presume, because that's the only classified case Lavender's told me about. And Lav doesn't usually spare details. It may be classified, but of course this doesn't include Lavender.

"Right team, there's a serial killer on the loose," Harding barks, glaring around at us. He's like a rotweiler with PMS and we hate him. "He looks to be targetting the children of the former Death Eaters. I will be placing you on guard of the people we have identified."

Just what I've always wanted to do, babysit Charlize Rosier or Daphne Greengrass.

"You'll be working in teams of three to bodyguard these possible victims." His beady eyes bore into us. "I'll allocate those teams and their victims now."

Please say I get Pansy, I think. At least I'll be able to go drinking and have a few laughs with her. Or Blaise wouldn't be too bad.

"Millar, Tompson and Ferris, you'll be on the Parkinson case."

Damnit.

"Boot, Fone, Jade. You'll be on the Zabini case."

Shit. Well, as long as I don't have to wander around after Draco sodding Malfoy.

"Delacour, Tyson a-a-a-nd..." He flicks through the shafts of parchment. "Weasley. You'll be on the Malfoy case."

It was inevitable really but I hate my life. So much.

We get handed a folder of information on Draco Malfoy and sit around in Belinda Tyson's cubicle to discuss tactics.

"We should split zis up evenly, make a timetable to ensure zere's someone on him at all times," Gabrielle, the newest Hit Wizard, says, eager to please.

"Well, I can't do night shift," Belinda says. "Amy's still up nights and Garth will not be pleased if he's left to deal with a six month old baby every other evening." Belinda is a mother to four children and her husband, Garth, is utterly clueless. She's just come back from leave after having Amy, the youngest.

"Malfoy hates me," I say glumly. "This is going to be shit."

Gabrielle ignores me. "Well, I can do zee occazional night sheeft but I've got uzzer tings to do." She giggles and I try not to roll my eyes.

They both look at me. I'm probably the only gay wizard in England so clearly this means I'm not going to be up at nights with anything other than insomnia. "Fine," I sigh. "I'll do weeknights. You can do the weekends, Gabrielle. The Quidditch season's starting soon."

"You're a darling," Belinda says.

"Yeah, yeah." I grimace. "You realise that Malfoy is going to throw a tantrum to end all tantrums when he finds out I'll be supervising bedtime."

"Better you than either of us," Belinda says knowledgably. "He'd probably try and sleaze onto us. You're safe."

What from? Death or sex?

"Anyway," she continues. "I've got to fly. I promised Garth I'd be home in an hour. You too should go up to Hogwarts and introduce yourselves to Mister Malfoy." And with a pop, she's gone.

Gabrielle glances over at me. "Ze school?"

I reach for his files. "Draco Malfoy, occupation: Professor of Potions at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. That school." This is going to be a bundle of laughs. I forgot that Malfoy was the new Potions teacher. Slughorn just retired last year.

We apparate to Hogsmeade and wander up the path to the Hogwarts grounds. I'm in no hurry to get there. Anything to delay my iminent doom. "How's Fleur?" I ask politely.

"Shacked up wit your bruzzer," Gabrielle says, grinning.

"Well, I knew that."

"She's good. The Jillian's doing well, I tink. You haven't visited for a while, I tink?"

"No, I've been busy." It takes me a moment to work out who Jillian is. Bill and Fleur's one year old, all whispy red hair, pale skin and ice blue eyes. Pretty cute really, even though I don't like kids.

We reach Hogwarts and I gaze in awe, like I do every time I see the castle. It's magnificent, all turrets and spiralling mist and fog. Actually, I wish I was still there. McGonagall offered me the Care of Magical Creatures job when Hagrid retires and I'm pretty sure I'll take her up on that. I like animals more than criminals and office drones.

McGonagall herself is there to meet us. "Mister Weasley, Mademoiselle Delacour," she says, smiling, which is strange to see. "It's wonderful to see you again. Professor Malfoy will be in my office presently."

We follow him up the spiral staircase to his office. I wave at the portrait of Dumbledore, who inclines his head benevolently. "Professor, has Harding told you the details of the case and our involvement?"

"He has given me the general idea. I believe you are to be guarding Professor Malfoy until this killer is caught."

"Yes," Gabrielle says. "He eez possibly in great danger. Zis killer, he's cunning."

"Yes, I see. And it was Millicent Bullstrode who was the latest victim, yes?" McGonagall says, looking sombre. Of course she understands that. She was a member of the Order for years. There is a knock on the door. "Come in, Draco."

He's much taller than I remember, is my first thought. Malfoy was always a scrawny wee git. His eyes are still hard and cold and his skin and hair are pale. He looks older and much more weathered than I remember, even from directly after the war.

"You wanted to see me, Minerva?" he says. His tone is civil, if not particularly friendly. His gaze does not flicker from McGonagall's face and it is clear that he hasn't even noticed that we are there.

"Yes, please sit down," McGonagall says.

Malfoy looks around then and sees us. "What the hell is Weasley doing here?" he hisses. He doesn't even acknowledge Gabrielle, which is actually quite surprising because she's even prettier than Fleur. There's something about the way he says my name that makes me want to pound him like I did when I was eleven and he poked fun of Neville. Not so long ago, if you think about it.

"Draco, sit down." her tone is stern.

Gabrielle begins. "Meester Mal-foy, have you heard of zee Nott and Bullstrode murders?"

"Yes, what of it?" He crosses his legs and leans back in his chair, feigning being disinterested.

"We have reason to believe that the killer of Bullstrode was the same as the killer of Nott. We also have reason to believe that this is the work of a serial killer who is brutally murdering the children of former Death Eaters," I say. With Gabrielle's accent, case explanation can be unbearable.

"And this relates to me, how?" he drawls.

"Don't play dumb, Malfoy. You're on our list of possible targets, right up top, I might add, and there's a team of us working to keep you safe."

"Please tell me that you're not included in this," he says, looking faintly horrified.

"It's my job and, trust me; I'm just as thrilled as you are."

McGonagall interrupts at this point. "I feel certain that we can guarantee Draco's safety here."

"That's as may be, Professor. But with all due respect, Hogwarts is breachable - especially by someone who knows it. A likely killer would be a former student with a grudge against the Death Eaters."

"I will not have this great buffoon sitting in on my lessons and interupting my classes," Draco snaps, cheeks tinged pink.

"Don't worry; you'll have Gabrielle and Belinda Tyson. I'm on night shift," I say. "And you don't get much of a choice about this, Malfoy, so don't make a scene."

He looks shaken and repulsed. "When does this bodyguarding start?"

"Now," Gabrielle says. "I will be sitting in on your lessons and being wit you at all times."

"Excellent." The sarcasm is lost on her however and she continues.

"Eet would be much easier eef you co-operated, Mister Malfoy."

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever."

"I'll see you tonight, Malfoy," I say, looking at a spot somewhere beyond his left ear. "Thank you for your hospitality, Professor McGonagall. I'll be in touch." McGonagall offers the floo powder and I take it. "Flat thirty-seven, Vertick Alley."

I fall out of the fire and find Susan crying on the sofa. "Susie, what's wrong?" I ask.

Susan looks startled. She wipes her eyes on her tee-shirt. "Oh, nothing. Just stress I guess."

It worries me that she never lets anyone see how she's feeling, not even Zacharias. One day she's going to combust - like I did. "Are you sure?"

"Sure as eggs," she replies, smiling brightly although she can't hide the sticky tear marks on her cheeks. "You look pretty run-down though."

"I'm babysitting Malfoy," I say glumly, wandering over to the fridge. "It's these bloody murders."

"Oh God, that sucks, doesn't it?" Always one to say what she feels, Susan is.

"Just a tad. Anyway, I'm on night shift all week." I look around. Lavender's door is shut. "Is Lav in?"

"She's at work, but she should be home soon," Susan replies, opening one of several textbooks littered around the room. "If you ask me, you've got the pretty sweet end of the deal."

"How so?"

"You'll barely have to talk to him. You'll be sitting in his lounge all night, listening for any odd sounds and drinking highly-caffeinated coffee. Then, you can come home and sleep."

"I suppose." I don't like admitting that anyone else aside from me is right, but Susan pretty much always hits the mark.

The front door slams open. "Fuck, I hate work," Lavender says, falling onto the dilapidated couch.

"As ever, Lavender is both subtle and delicate," Susan remarks.

Lavender gives her the finger. "Shacklebolt hates me so much and Seamus is making me go drinking with him tonight again. Plus, the Bullstrode case gives me the creeps. We haven't detected anything in the blood and there's something about the silver paint that I know from somewhere."

"Those Forensics programmes you watch with your Dad?" Susan asks sweetly.

"No, you know I only watch C.S.I. for the characters," Lavender replies, in all seriousness. Her Muggle father freaked out when she told him she was going to be working in forensics unit because of all the crime shows on Muggle vellytision, or whatever it's called. Lavender watched this C.S.I. thing with him to calm him down and ended up getting hooked.

"At least you don't have to babysit Malfoy," I say to her.

"But Malfoy doesn't have kids!"

I love Lavender, I really do, but sometimes she's so stupid that it's ridiculous. "No, Gabrielle, Belinda and I are guarding him because of the Bullstrode murder."

"Gutted." She's a very sympathetic person, naturally. "But at least he's single. You won't have to stay away listening to the groaning and panting night after night."

"He's single?"

"Yeah, he was with Pansy for a while. Then, it all gets a bit shady. People swear they've seen him with men, going into clubs and cafés but it's all bullshit media sensationalised crap most likely. Pansy reckons the last girl he dated was Daphne Greengrass but it didn't work out and he's not with anyone at the moment."

"Lavender, you're a goddess." I hate to admit it, but I was worried that I was going to find out far too much about Malfoy's sex life and personal kinks on this job. Not really my choice of research topic.

"No prob. There any food?"

"You'd be lucky." There's never food in the flat. Lavender goes through stages of wanting me to conform to the house wife-y gay stereotype but the one time I agreed to bake, the cake sunk in the middle and I forgot the sugar. She's given up on that aspect of me. She still likes the idea of me doing the cleaning though.

"Anyone know if Zacharias is on groceries?" Susan asks. "I'm sure it's not my turn but I could be wrong."

"Please say it's Zacharias," Lavender prays. I check the schedule. It is. "Hallelujah!" She's such a drama queen.

"He should be home any minute now," Susan informs us. It shits me how she manages to know exactly what's going on with everyone in this flat, without us knowing anything about her.

"How's it going with you and Blaise?" Lavender asks. She's insane. Susan hates that question.

"It's not going because we're not in a bloody relationship." Susan narrows her eyes and grits her teeth.

"So, you're what? Fuck buddies?" Subtle, thy name is not.

"Yes," Susan says impatiently. "If you must give it a title."

Zacharias chooses that moment to arrive home with several bags of food. "Give what a title?" he asks.

"The pseudo-relationship between Susan and Blaise," Lavender informs him.

"We're not in a relationship!" Susan grabs her books and slams the door into her room.

"Smooth, Lav, real smooth." There's something that grates between Susan and Lavender, nothing major but enough to wreak havoc in the more quiet moments in the flat. The return of Zacharias usually calms things down between the girls but clearly not today.

"Eh, she'll cope," Lavender says, grabbing a bag of cashew nuts from the plastic bags. "You went shopping in Muggle London, didn't you, Zacharias?"

"May have done, yes," he says easily. Zacharias is muggleborn, not that it really matters, except that it means he understands things like Lavender's obsession with Sara-in-a-vest from C.S.I. "It's so much cheaper and you can buy normal things, like corn chips."

"You just don't know where to look in Diagon Alley," I accuse.

"Sure, if that's how you feel." He pops a bag of crisps open. "If you must know, I had the worst day at work and I just felt like getting out of the whole Wizarding thing."

"That makes three of us who've had a shitty day," Lavender said.

"Four. Susan didn't seem particularly happy when I came home," I say. "Actually, she was crying. You might want to talk to her, Zach."

"Me, mate?" Zacharias takes a swig of beer. "Nah, you're the only one she'll open up to." I guess that's true, though I don't really see it. "You want one?" he adds, offering me a bottle.

"I shouldn't, I've got to work." And I tell him and Lavender the details about the babysitting of Malfoy.

Zacharias thinks it's hilarious, the idiot, and spends the next few minutes snorting beer out of his nose. I don't leave for work in the best mood and it is not improved by seeing Gabrielle.

"He eez a complete bastard," she mutters, throwing Malfoy a dark look.

"Tell me about it," I murmur back. I stride up to Malfoy. "Look, I don't give a shit what you say to me or Belinda. We can take it. Gabrielle's new on the job and she's a nice person."

"Thank you for the lecture on ethics," Malfoy drawls. "But I really couldn't care less."

I raise my eyebrows. "Yeah, great." Five minutes into the job and I'm sick to death of him. "What are you planning on doing tonight?"

"Well, I thought I'd hit a few bars, get pissed, kill someone and drag their body back to the school to be eaten by the house elves." Please, let me hit him just this once, I beg silently. "What do you think I'll be doing? It's a school night, you idiot."

"Right." I grit my teeth.

"I'll go to my quarters, mark a few abysmal essays and then go to bed. Perhaps I'll read, but maybe not. Do you want the titles of the literature I might peruse?"

"No, I'm sure they're utterly horrible."

I spend the night, standing in the corridor and listening. Also, trying to stop my evil side from taking over and killing the ferret. By the time morning comes and Belinda arrives to relieve me, I have a crick in my neck and my head is throbbing.

Why don't they just ram a stake through my heart?