The Dragon and the Dark One

Chapter Three: Sparks Flying

Draco was fuming silently as he stormed down the walk of Malfoy Manor. Honestly... Not safe to use the floo system... Secure transportation... They were a load of jittery old codgers that wouldn't let go of the past. Still, with any luck at all, he'd be free of them all before the week was out. And Draco was feeling lucky. As he continued a long-legged stride, he flipped through the file his father had given him once he had agreed to the child's quest. His thumb hovered for a minute over the page sporting a photograph of his quarry.

Shaggy black hair obscured the fifteen-year-old version's eyes, but the violently stubborn chin and harsh features would be unmistakable in their own right. He was shaking his head angrily, his indignation at being forced to pose plain across his scowling features. Draco was forced to hold back a snort. Yes, the picture was a little out-dated, but was this awkward teenager truly capable of inflicting so much damage that he had a legion of Death Eaters quaking in their boots? The whole organization really had gone to seed. He was going to manage this with both hands tied behind his back.

The second he crossed the border of what his father had evidently had decided to transform into his own personal fortress, Draco apparated back to his own apartment with a whip-like crack.

"SANDY?!" The exclamation leaked out before he had a chance to initiate his usual elegant nonchalance. Sprawled across his sofa and sipping a Martini was none other than Sandra Jones, blonde bimbo extraordinaire. "What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were in the States for another week!"

She immediately sat up, slipping her feet back into the bright pink, rhinestone-decked six-inch heels that lay on the floor. She immediately let out the all too familiar shrill screech that hammered into Draco repeatedly like machine gun fire. "Oh, and I guess that's why you decided it would be just like okay to invite some random girl back to your place? Just 'cause you figured I wouldn't be here? God! Don't you go all creepy and start acting like this whole fucking thing is my fucking fault, Draco Malfoy! I trusted you, and you were a total jerk!" Draco had placed a hand to his temple and collapsed in a chair, trying to block out the piercing, squirrel-like chatter. Undaunted, she pressed on. "You can just call yourself lucky, Draco, that I love you as much as you do. Only because I know you were distraught and lonely without me am I willing to give you just one more chance, but if you ever do something like this again, I'm outta here, you understand me? Now, I got rid of that creepy, muttering little twerp, and-"

"You WHAT?" Draco roared in a manner distinctly reminiscent of his father, leaping to his feet. "What did you do to her?"

What Sandy possessed in ditzy verbosity, she made up for with lack of courage. Drawing her legs back up onto the sofa and causing her glittery pink skirt that gave the impression there had been a recent fabric shortage to rise up a few more inches, she attempted to pull off her usual big-eyed innocent expression. "Draky-poo, what did you expect me to do? I know she didn't mean anything to y-"

"What did you do with her, Sandy?" Draco repeated in a curt, threatening near-hiss.

"I just sort of told her to get out, and she didn't listen, and then I grabbed her arm and brought her to the door, and she just sort of wandered out with this blank look on her face. I don't think she was very smart... Draco, please don't be mad at me..." she pouted easily, her years of practice surfacing instantly.

"Oh, look who's talking!" He snapped back at her venomously.

"Draco... Promise you're not mad at me..."

He stared back at her incredulously, amazed that anyone could possibly be so mind-blowingly stupid. What had he ever seen in her? Oh, right, the tits. "Get out."

"Draco, you're angry, we've both said things we don't mean; if you just calm-"

"Get out of my house. You are a stupid, loud, irritating American who has no good qualities beyond your appearance and your total willingness to fuck just about anything with cash. I never even want to hear your name again, much less sit here listening to a voice that could shatter glass. Now get out of my house." As she began to splutter indignantly and her bright blue eyes began to well with tears, he added, "You are sickening, you know that? Well, guess what? If you think crying is going to make this man fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness, then you are sorely mistaken. Now go find someone else to torture, and GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" This final declaration sent her wailing and racing for the door, taking both her empty head and her 36 double-Ds with her. The door slammed shut with a force that caused a picture to fall off of the wall beside it with an angry crash. Draco aggrievedly raked a hand through his hair. This had been a hell of a long day, and he still had a murderer to track down, now without his golden lead. The question was, which one of them would be easier to find? Adrian, or Ella? At least he knew Adrian's last name, which was a start. And yet, the girl couldn't have gone too far, wandering around like the head-case that she clearly was. It was just his luck, that out of all the hot witches in London, he would end up with a psychopath. No, not just one psychopath, but two; Ella and Sandy. What a pair; he really knew how to pick them.

Draco rolled his eyes and grabbed the folder he had managed to fling aside as he had ranted at Sandy. Setting the picture of the fifteen-year-old boy that glared out at him through a mane of floppy black hair, Draco cried, "Quaestionis Adrian Baddock!" Draco snatched his keys, the photo, and his wand, and stormed out of the room in the direction the self-fashioned spell had directed him, slamming the door with such force that it caused the fallen picture to give another disgruntled rattle.

~*~*~*~

Adrian could hear the loud, harsh breathing of someone who was in a very bad mood, long before he came anywhere near him. Adrian casually brought his hand to the trouser pocket which contained his wand. Go on, he urged mentally. Come on, take a shot at me; I dare you. I can take you. Just try it. Come on, I'm ready. The approaching man, whoever he was, was a wizard; Adrian had always had a knack for being able to tell. More importantly, the man whose stride had just quickened obviously felt like lashing out at anyone and everyone, just like Adrian did.

The man finally caught up with Adrian and began the process of storming past. Adrian immediately sized him up as an opponent; he couldn't be much older than himself, and matched his own height to the centimeter. He had white-blonde hair and perfect fashion taste. This one would most likely be easy pickings.

When the man passed him by, Adrian almost let out a disappointed sigh, when suddenly the blonde spun around and did a double-take, locking eyes with Adrian. The blonde's gray eyes lit with a kind of mad relief, then he yanked out his wand. His blatant under-estimation of Adrian proved to be his undoing; his opponent was only half way through crying "Petrificus Totalus!" when Adrian's "Accio wand!" had both weapons in Adrian's hands. Taking a position like a fencer, Adrian required only a fraction of a second to have the other backed up against the grating brick of the narrow London alleyway.

"You must be Adrian," the blonde muttered, obviously trying to avoid having his throat move too much. The man obviously wasn't used to losing, much less to dying, and wasn't entirely comfortable with the situation. This confirmed Adrian's supposition that his enemy had nothing left up his sleeve; the stranger wasn't the sort who bothered with a back-up plan, as his obvious arrogance led him to believe he would never need one. He was trying to keep his dignity in tact, even shoved into a hopeless situation, but he couldn't repress the spark of panic in his eyes that Adrian had been trained to notice and to exploit.

"Word travels fast these days, doesn't it? What's it to you?" Adrian quipped sarcastically. He had every intention of killing the man who was now slowly raising his hands up to press against the wall. Adrian had murdered his father, he was quite lost, he probably had hoards more enemies about to leap from the shadows at any moment, and he had an appalling hangover. He felt like hurting something.

"I have some... Shall we say, acquaintances who are very interested in your whereabouts."

"Who?" Adrian always preferred to know exactly how high the odds were stacked against him.

"Perhaps a trade of inform-"

"Who?" Adrian repeated, in a softer voice that was almost a growl, and moved the wand tip to point directly at the man's heart. Steely hatred was flashing in Adrian's eyes, and he could see it dawn on the trapped creature that bargaining wasn't really going to get him anywhere. Good, Adrian thought off-handedly. He didn't feel like wasting time with pleasantries.

"The Death Eaters. You have a few days, at most."

"I could take any of them," Adrian replied, calmly. He wasn't bragging; it was something he simply knew as a given fact. He was far from naïve as to his own power, and his father had taught him things that none but Voldemort himself would have dared to use.

"Could you take all of them?"

Adrian considered the man's question carefully. "How many?"

"I don't know. They don't trust me with that much detail."

"Then why should I trust you?"

"Because if you kill me now, they'll be on you like a pack of hyenas in thirty seconds flat. My father can track me easily, alive or dead, and he'll know the instant I'm the latter. If you let me live, I'll tell you what I know. Dead, I betray you; alive, I can steer them all in the wrong direction and offer you a fast-track ticket to freedom," The blonde said it all in a calm, matter-of-fact voice that showed clearly that he was either telling the truth or was an accomplished liar.

Or possibly both.

"And who is this prestigious father of yours, who ought to have me quaking in my boots?"

"Lucius Malfoy."

Adrian was careful not to let the emotion flicker onto his face even for an instant as a series of clues fell into place practically with an audible click. Draco Malfoy, in the flesh, and he had him at wand point. If he had been the sort of person who really appreciated irony, he would have laughed aloud.

"And that would make you..." Adrian prompted, feigning ignorance.

"Draco Malfoy, someone very valuable to you if alive."

Adrian weighed the options as quickly as he could while replying, "I assume they've told you what I'm capable of."

"I've heard rum-"

"Then you know what I won't hesitate to do to you if you betray me."

"I have an inkling."

"Well, whatever you're thinking now, multiply the pain by about a hundred thousand times, and you'll come closer."

Draco rolled his eyes upwards pensively for a moment, then met Adrian's eyes and nodded curtly. "I think I'm most likely with you now."

Slowly, deliberately, Adrian lowered his own wand and handed Draco's back to him. Draco visibly relaxed as he slid his wand back into his trouser pocket. "We'd better go back to my place; you can't just go wandering around London. Oh, please," he added as he saw Adrian raise a suspicious eyebrow. "We have a deal, right?"

"A deal..." he replied cautiously.

"Here, will this make you feel better?" Draco extended a hand to shake. With a nod, Adrian grasped it firmly and shook.

They both all but yanked their hands backwards; it was though a jolt of electricity had run down one arm and up the other.

Once they had apparated back to Draco's house, they both headed into the kitchen where Adrian began devouring more or less the entire contents of Draco's fridge. As Draco watched Adrian wolf down anything he could get his hands on, rather amused, he remembered something.

"You don't know anyone named Ella, do you?"

Not taking his eyes off of his feast, Adrian replied, "Don't think so, what's she look like?"

"Auburn hair, blue eyes, incredibly hot, and prone to random attacks of insanity."

Adrian dropped the leftover chicken he was half way through. He immediately yanked a chain off from around his neck and flicked open the locket that dangled from the end. "Like that?" he asked shakily, pointing to the girl contained within. Draco held out a hand, but Adrian didn't release it, simply leaned forward so Draco could see better. Draco shrugged and squinted down at the aged photograph. "She's older than that, but yeah, I think so. Does no one have recent photographs anymore?" he added sarcastically, as he pulled the out-of-date snapshot of Adrian and slid it across the table.

Adrian ignored his own portrait, using most of his self control to keep from shaking violently. "Where is she?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Now there is a million pound question. My idiot of an ex kicked her out, and I seriously don't think the girl's all that stable. She seemed to know you, though. She kept saying your last name, at any rate."

Adrian snapped the pendant shut and threw it back around his neck, using the table to lever himself upwards so forcefully that his chair flew back a few feet. "We have to find her, damn it!"

"Look, calm down. I just found the girl, and only kept her because I figured she might have some information about how to find you. Why are you so worried if you haven't met her, anyway?"

"You don't understand; I'm... I'm responsible. Why she is the way she is. I need to see if I can help her... I owe her that much."

"All right," Draco began, a little confused by the sudden display of human compassion, not something he encountered very often. "You're the one that made her all..." He waved his arms randomly.

"Sort of. I just need to find out where she is, all right?"

"Whatever. We can scry later."

It was Adrian's turn to shoot Draco a scathing look. "You think someone who has lost her mind will be just fine wandering around London alone?"

Draco was saved the trouble of thinking up a pithy comeback by his father's voice bellowing from the fireplace in the next room, "Draco! Get over here, now!"

"Daddy calls," he muttered sarcastically. "Look, find the girl if you have to, but stay out of trouble. I need to go. I'll give them a few false leads and send them in another direction."

"Hey, Draco?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

~*~*~*~

"Grayson, we need to talk."

"What is there to talk about, Narcissa? You had a one night stand, and now you've gone trotting back to your rich boyfriend like the good little lap dog that you are." It was amazing how much bitterness he managed to pour into that one sentence.

"I'm engaged to him now, what am I supposed to do?" Narcissa sounded totally desperate as she pleaded with the father of her unborn child.

"Why should I care?"

"Grayson, listen to me!" She exclaimed. "I'm pregnant!"

"Oh, and what has that got to do with me?"

"You idiot," she replied scathingly. "You're the father."

Grayson stared at her for a moment, before dolling out a large dose of his male eloquence and replying, "What?"

"I'm pregnant with your child. I told Lucius the baby is his. That's why he's marrying me."

"You mean to tell me that my child, inheriting all of my power, which I needn't point out is considerably superior to that of your precious Malfoy, is going to be raised by that moron?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you, and I'm not ashamed," She met his eyes defiantly, glaring up at him. She couldn't back down now. It was too late, and too much was riding on this. She was, however, a bit unnerved by the wicked grin that slashed his face.

"It's going to look like me."

It was her turn to respond with a, "What?" as her eyes widened. She almost took a step backwards. It had never occurred to her... Surely it couldn't... A sadistic light glinting in his eye, Grayson pressed onwards. "Oh yes, it'll be a beautiful wedding; the fairy tale you always wanted. A dream come true. Nine blissful months, and then you know what will happen? Out it will come, and he'll take one look at it, and he'll know you for the slut that you are. You think he'll let the two of you hang around after that? I suppose he couldn't deal with the shame of a divorce, but no one can know that he, a Malfoy, had been hoodwinked. So the two of you will probably just suffer some tragic accident returning from the hospital. I can see the headlines now: 'Widower Lucius Malfoy Grieves for Tragic Loss of Wife and Child.' It will certainly gain him a lot of sympathy. Maybe even some extra votes when he tries for the political office. And you'd have loved to be the minister's wife, wouldn't you, Narcissa?"

She was pale now, backing away from him, but he just kept advancing; he acted as a tiger sensing weakness. "Or perhaps, if someone let it slip now, he could save face without ever having to marry. Perhaps he could just shame you publicly, leaving you alone to raise a child that will have to despise you for the disgusting specimen of female kind that you are."

"Stop!" she screamed, releasing her last ounce of control. "You can't tell him, you wouldn't!" It was a mistake.

"Oh I can't, can't I?" he whispered softly. "That's where you're wrong, Miss Narcissa. I not only can, but I will."