Summer in the City

Chapter 3

Draco and the man called Moony walked in silence for a while. Draco spent some of the time making sure he was never walking at Padfoot's side, but after a few moments he got used to manoeuvring that way. Now nothing would stop him from wondering about other things. The silence, for example. Mr. Moony hadn't uttered a word since they started on their way. Draco immediately felt an irrestisible need to talk.

"Er... Mr. Moony?"

"Yes?" He turned unseeing eyes towards Draco. And he still managed to make it look like he'd been staring directly into Draco's eyes. It was unnerving.

"How did you overhear what I'd told the ticket clerk? You were outside the building, weren't you?" Draco asked.

"Oh, I could hear you very well from outside. My ears are rather sharp, I daresay," Mr. Moony replied casually, flashing a distracted smile in Draco's general direction.

Draco, therefore, just raised both his eyebrows, and said, "That's odd, especially among Mug- among your kind. Were you born that way, Mr. Moony? With sharp ears, I mean."

Mr. Moony tilted his head to one side. "Among my kind, you say? Hmm, perhaps you're not quite right. My kind definitely has a reputation for sharp ears. As for the other thing, no, I wasn't born that way. It started when I was a small child. But it's a useful little gift, don't you think so?"

Draco hated the way Mr. Moony's voice sounded - so candid. What was so funny about sharp ears? He opened his mouth to make a sarcastic comment about Mr. Moony's impossible sense of humour, but his stomach chose that very moment to start rumbling.

Mr. Moony stopped instantly. Draco looked at him, glad that the man couldn't see how embarrassed he was. A rumbling stomach was so indecorous.

Mr. Moony simply asked, "Have you eaten at all today?"

Draco made a face. "No. At my mother's request, Dobby served me porridge for breakfast this morning. I hate porridge. And then I and my father went out, so we didn't have lunch, either."

The truth was, Narcissa Malfoy had provided Draco with some biscuits after breakfast, seeing that repeated offers of porridge would only lead to her son starving to death. However, Draco felt that admitting such a thing would reduce his chances for a decent evening meal.

Mr. Moony's smile was back. "I suppose we'll have to get you some dinner, then."

The more Draco had to look at Mr. Moony's face, the more unnerving his smile seemed. Was this man ever anything but cheerful?

But he didn't comment on it. He was saving his remarks for after the meal.

*

Draco didn't like Mr. Moony's plan a bit. All right, he had expressed a desire to be involved in as little action as possible, but as he watched Mr. Moony and Padfoot move away from Draco's position at the corner of Liverpool Road and Upper Street, he felt left out.

According to the plan, Mr. Moony and Padfoot would, in the first step, go into a grocer's shop a few blocks away. Mr. Moony would pretend buying some scones, but instead of paying for them, he would start clutching at his chest and moan things like Oh, blimey, I can't breathe - and so on and so forth.

Next, Mr. Moony would theatrically sway and collapse in a neat but smelly heap on the floor. The shop assistant would throw a tantrum, of course, and after several attempts at reviving Mr. Moony to no avail, would go and tellerfoam the Ambience. (Mr. Moony had explained Draco that the Ambience was a vehicle like the Knight Bus, only with Medimuggles on board). In his or her absence, Padfoot would snatch the scones from the counter and return to Draco. Mr. Moony would join them a few hours later, when he was released from hospital.

The shop they were planning to raid was big and looked remarkably ugly, even from a distance. It was owned by a Muggle called Sainsbury, or at least the sign above the door said so. Draco waited, and waited, and waited. He wondered if Muggle scones were the same as Wizarding ones. He made a mental note to save at least one scone for Moony. He was so hungry, he felt he could eat them all, but that would be unfair to Mr. Moony.

Suddenly, loud noises snapped him back to reality. He peered around the corner, and saw Padfoot running towards him full-tilt. Without a single scone. The dog's eyes were gleaming madly. Before Draco could have done anything, Padfoot seized his sleeve and dragged the surprised boy with him.

It was quite clear that the plan had failed, and there would be no food at all. Moreover, Mr. Moony was likely to be caught by the Muggle Aurors. As Padfoot dragged him along, Draco caught a glimpse of a strange vehicle with a sharp, vibrating light on top of it, heading towards Mr. Sainsbury's shop. Draco decided that must have been the Ambience. It was fortunate they'd reached the shop before the Muggle Aurors. Now Mr. Moony would be able to fake illness. The Ambience was likely to take him, which meant he might avoid getting arrested. People usually tended to think ill people innocent.

The dog was so fast that Draco could hardly keep up with him. But a couple of minutes later they stopped abruptly in front of another shop. Draco stared at the sign. ARABELLA FLETCHER, APOTHECARY.

Padfoot released his sleeve and darted to the nearest basement window. It was open. Before Draco could have told him to stop, the dog wiggled through the window and disappeared. Draco had no choice but to follow him.

It was dark inside. Draco slid through the window and put his feet down blindly. Unfortunately, there was some kind of an obstacle a few feet above the floor. Another worktable. Draco could hear the hundreds of tiny crashes as the vials on the table were smashed to pieces under his feet. He swore and jumped to the floor. This time he landed safely and without much noise.

He squinted and looked around. His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, until he could make out the dim outlines of the room. There were shelves everywhere, almost blocking the other end of the room from view. Almost, but not quite - Draco could still get glimpses of the massive iron door that took up most of the opposite wall. The door was rusty, although the room itself was squeaky clean, like the shop above. The vials and glass jars on the shelves looked too uniform, too Muggle. Draco supposed this was the laboratory where all those Muggle medicines they were selling were concocted.

Padfoot was standing beside the table. He sniffed at the smashed vials and sneezed.

Draco sneered at him. "If I were you, I wouldn't continue ruining my olfactory functions, Mr. Padfoot."

The dog turned its head a bit, gave Draco a reproachful look, and turned back to the table. He sniffed at the vials once more, then sneezed again.

Draco grabbed the dog's collar and yanked him away from the table.

"Stand back, you stupid mutt. You're too noisy. And your muzzle is already covered in - yuck, dog snot."

At that, Padfoot growled at him, so Draco let go of the collar and wiped his hands on his trousers.

"This place smells like Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess-Remover," he muttered. "I wonder if we could sell them a few bottles. I think they could be convinced it was some kind of a medication."

Padfoot barked twice, sharply. It almost sounded like laughter.

"Oh, very funny," Draco snapped, and turned towards the window. "I'm glad you like my sense of humour, mutt. Now let's get out of here, shall we? Better come back in the morning, after we've found Moony."

Hearing Moony's name, the dog perked up, and started pulling Draco's sleeve again.

"What is it now? Stop that!" Draco exclaimed. "You're ruining my clothes! Bad doggie! Stop!"

Padfoot ignored his weak protests and started dragging the boy towards the rusted door.

"Let me go, you underbred cur!" Draco yelled. He tried to push the dog away, but Padfoot was too quick. Somehow, he always managed to avoid the boy's flailing arms. By the time Draco realised he would never be able to grab Padfoot that way, they were already at the door.

"Release me right now!" Draco screamed. "Shoo! Let me go, you disgusting, slobbering canine! I'm not going any further! It's unsafe! You might as well give up, because I'm not going anywhere! Do you understand, you thick-headed, retarded beast?"

He grabbed at the nearest shelf to steady himself. Unfortunately, the shelf wasn't too steady to begin with. It creaked and tipped over, raining Muggle medicine over Draco's head. Several jars contained some kind of fine, white, pulverized substance which seemed to cover everything.

When it was all over, Draco stopped coughing and opened his eyes. The laboratory looked as if it had been snowing inside. Draco looked at Padfoot and burst into laughter.

"Merlin's beard, you should see yourself, mutt. You're white like the Easter Bunny."

Padfoot growled at him again, but somehow the effect was ruined by the fact that he was chalk-white and had difficulties blinking. The powder must have gotten into his eyes. Draco couldn't seem to stop laughing. He was vaguely aware that he sounded hysterical, but he just laughed on.

Suddenly, the rusted door flung open and light flooded the room. Draco tried to shield his eyes with one hand, while peering through his fingers to see the intruder.

"Hands up, everybody! I'm armed!" a familiar voice said. Draco squinted in the voice's direction. All he could see was the silhouette of the interloper, with messy hair and pigtails. She was holding something in her hands.

It was the girl called Harry.

Draco screamed, although he didn't really know why. It just seemed the appropriate thing to do.

The girl called Harry seized this opportunity to raise the object in her hands and spurt some kind of bubbly liquid into Draco's open mouth. Draco started sputtering, silenced by the sudden attack. He felt the powdery substance melt on his skin. Thanks to the girl called Harry, and her lethal Muggle weapons, he was now covered in white goo. Which was undoubtedly toxic. Draco started screaming again, but his voice was muffled by the ice cold liquid still invading his mouth. The liquid was disgustingly sweet, but still it stung Draco's tongue. It was worse than Aunt Bellatrix's homemade Billywig schnapps.

Suddenly, Draco heard a bark, followed by Harry's yelp. The intrusive liquid was gone, having made its way down Draco's convulsing throat and churning stomach. Thank Merlin, it wasn't followed by any more. The girl called Harry was lying spread-eagled on the floor. Padfoot was sitting on her middle, pinning her arms to the ground - and he was licking her face.

"No, no, stop it, doggie," the girl called Harry squealed, giggling helplessly. "I'm not made of ice cream!"

Padfoot, of course, showed no signs of stopping. The "weapon" Harry used slipped from her hand, rolling forlornly on the floor. Draco bent closer and examined it. It was a huge green bottle, with a paper tag glued on its middle. It said Sprite. It was almost empty now, and looked conspicuously harmless.

"What the hell is going on down here? Har - Julia! Answer me!" said another voice.

Draco looked up. Now he could see that there was a staircase behind the open door, leading up to the ground floor. The voice was coming from the top of the stairs. Draco knew this voice, too. It was that horrible man, Harry's uncle. And he wasn't alone. Draco could hear at least two more voices, one of them distinctly female, asking, "What's going on? Professor Snape, are you all right?"

"Don't you dare touch me, Arabella," Uncle Severus' voice hissed. "I'm fine. It's - it's Julia. Now stand back and let me-"

"Oooh!"the woman's voice screamed. "Julia, darling, are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine, Mrs. Fletcher!" Harry yelled from the floor. "I've been attacked by a dog, but it's all right, it's very friendly, you don't have to-"

"Of course we have to, imbecilic little bint!" Uncle Severus, alias Professor Snape, yelled back. "I'm coming down."

Draco could hear him run down the stairs, his slippers clattering on the wood. A second later, said slippers came into view, followed by a billowy grey nightgown, a green bathrobe, two sallow-skinned hands, a candle, a hook-nosed face, a mess of stringy black hair and a tasseled grey nightcap.

The man's face was furious. Draco felt cold dread in the marrow of his bones under the gaze of those merciless black eyes. He took a tentative step backwards.

Padfoot raised his muzzle from Harry's face and growled at the man. Snape snarled back at him. "Take your filthy paws off my niece, you vermin."

Padfoot bared his whole set of teeth - just as yellow as Snape's, Draco observed, no difference there - and charged at the Professor. Snape threw the candle at him. Padfoot reared back on his hind legs, and the candle didn't even touch him. It landed a few feet away from Harry. For a moment, Draco waited for the white powder to prove flammable, but nothing happened. Meanwhile, Padfoot charged again. This time, Snape pulled a small vial out of the pocket of his bathrobe, and threw that at the dog.

Padfoot didn't even try to dodge the vial; he seemed determined to tear out Snape's throat and disembowel him on the spot. The vial smashed to pieces on his forehead. His fur was too thick, the shards of glass couldn't hurt him, but the potion inside the vial splashed over his face. Thick droplets of potion clung to his fur and eyelashes. Then the droplets started to glow with a strange red light.

Padfoot stopped abruptly, and started to shake his head. But the droplets seemed stuck to his fur. The red light inside them started sparkling. Draco noticed that each droplet was buzzing with energy. The next moment, they exploded in a shower of red sparks.

Draco ducked, but strangely enough, the sparks didn't reach anybody else but Padfoot. They disappeared under the dog's fur. Padfoot's body went rigid. His eyes lost their focus. He slid down the stairs and stopped moving.

"What have you done?" yelled Draco and the girl called Harry in unison.

Snape merely glared at them, especially at Draco. "It has received a dose of Bottled Stunner. It will survive. Anyway, this accident could have been prevented if you hadn't let the mongrel climb into Mrs. Fletcher's laboratory."

"You don't understand, sir,"Draco argued. "Padfoot doesn't belong to me. He belongs to Moony, and I don't know where he is, but we have to find him, because he's been helping me, and I'm lost, and the Leaky Cauldron's entrance is gone, and I've landed in fucking Muggle London after a Floo accident-"

"Silence!" screeched Snape. He strode over to Draco, grabbed him by both shoulders, and flattened the terrified boy to the nearest wall. "What. Did. You. Just. Say."

"I don't know, sir, I swear-" Draco babbled, on the verge of tears.

"The NAMES," Snape hissed. "The mutt and his master."

"Oh, them? Padfoot and Moony, you m-mean? Well, they're odd n-names-"Draco stammered.

Snape clamped one hand on Draco's mouth, bent closer, and breathed into the boy's face, "Do. Not. Mention. These. Names. Ever. Again. Understood?"

Draco could smell anchovies and garlic on the man's breath. He gagged at the smell, but managed to nod his agreement, not that he had another choice. But he was already planning his revenge.

Snape slowly released him, and turned away, addressing Harry. "Julia. Take that mutt upstairs. We shall have to clean him up."

The girl called Harry-or-Julia hesitated a bit, but eventually did as Snape told her. Snape watched her go with a blank, distant expression on his face. He opened his mouth, as if he'd wanted to call after the girl, but Draco chose that moment to pipe up.

"Sir, I know that you're a wizard because you can make potions, but I also know that you've probably committed some kind of a crime, or else you wouldn't have been exiled. Does it have to do with the fact that your niece is actually a boy?"

Snape pivoted on his heels, glaring at Draco. "Are you trying to blackmail me, boy?"

"Would I do such a thing?" Draco asked innocently. The night was looking up. Snape suddenly looked less intimidating.

Draco let the man approach him again, with a cautious expression on his otherwise sour face.

"What is your name?" Snape asked in an almost friendly tone.

Draco racked his brain for the names of other blond boys he knew. "Zacharias Smith," he said finally, with a bright smile.

Snape looked into his eyes for a long while. Draco found it terribly annoying. Then Snape's long fingers shot out and grabbed Draco's jaw. Draco tried to get away, his small fists pummeling Snape's arms, but the Professor, of course, ignored him completely. He pinched Draco's nose with another hand, and waited until Draco opened his mouth to gulp down some air. Draco was horrified when he saw the small flask Snape produced from his seemingly bottomless pocket. The Professor thrust the tiny bottle between Draco's teeth and poured a little of the flask's contents into his mouth. Then he released Draco abruptly.

"Up the stairs, boy. Move."

Draco looked at him with as much contempt as he could muster. "What if I don't?"

Snape's mouth twitched. "Now you look just like your father when he was your age. Except that he was much more intelligent, and far better at resisting Legilimency, Mr. Malfoy. He would have made up a better lie about his identity, and he wouldn't have fallen prey to me like you did. But I am glad you did. Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to test my newest brew on you."

Draco went whiter than the powder on his face. "That concoction you've forced down my throat? What's it going to do to me?"

"Nothing too dramatic, if you behave like a good boy and follow my orders,"Snape sneered. "Otherwise, it shall make your testicles shrivel up, and finally, when they have shrunken to the size of cherries, part with your body. In that case, I shall serve them to your mutt for breakfast."

Draco turned and marched up the stairs without another word. Snape glanced once more around the ruined laboratory, and made a face before following the boy.