The Wild Mongoose Chase

Chapter 2

The two pitiful Malfoy dogs, Bones and Ripper, were whining and cowering inside their fuzzy, pink puppy sweaters. A half-chewed boot was lying by the fire courtesy of Ripper, hence the name. Normally, the sleek hellhounds loved sitting inside the fire; it was their natural habitat. They would sit perfectly still and glare at the unfortunate passerby with cold red eyes. Today though, Janice Lestrange's head was floating in their home and she was glaring daggers at the poor puppies.

"I got him to take the case," Janice said, as if announcing her new occupation as the Pope.

"How?! I thought you said Imperious didn't work on him?" Ginny asked, petting the dogs. Janice laughed.

"It doesn't. That's the great thing about high-level Double-A people... Or just Draco, but don't tell him I said that. His ego grows faster than the population of India."

"...You calculated?"

"Hey, I have a lot of free time."

"Right...Anyway..."

"Yeah. I actually brought up the old "I-saved-your-arse from Azkaban wizarding debt story" and told him to sign. He might be immune to Imperious, but no one is immune to a wizarding debt. That's how Double A was started in fact. In 1732, by Salazar Slytherin's Cousin's Sister-in-law's Son's Nephew's Wif--"

"Janice. I know. I work for you. You tell me every day, how Sopo Pera founded double A along with double O' seven and some type of Muggle television show that was named after him. Please, tell me what the case is about," Ginny pleaded, looking at her longtime business associate. Ginny could see that work was getting to her. Poor Janice, that's what happens to people when they spend their lives under Knockturn Alley killing people and saving sad lumps from Azkaban. Ginny pushed that thought out of her mind, thinking of one sad lump in particular whom Janice had rescued from Azkaban.

"Of course, the case. Well, this Lupin guy woke up one morning to find his wife dead. Just like that. No sign of a struggle, no nothing. Diagnosed by all sorts of medi-wizards, and they all say natural death. Not even Avada Kedavra. The problem is, though, there was no reason for her to die. It wasn't stress; they lived in a little cottage somewhere in Siberia. It wasn't age; he's fifty and she was a bit older than him... fifty-two I think. Basically, two people in the prime of their lives. There is a motive for murder though. That woman grew enemies like Draco grows money!"

"Money doesn't grow on trees... you really should get out more." Ginny muttered, scribbling down everything she heard. She underlined "prime of their lives." If Narcissa Malfoy was fifty-two and in the "prime of her life", Ginny, who was twenty-eight, had a chance.

"Siberia. Wait... did you say Siberia?" Ginny asked suddenly, sitting up. Siberia! A bell rang in head, and not one of the murderous ones that got her "lawfully wedded" to Sad Lump.

"Yeah, some snowy place out in the middle of nowhere. Don't worry, I've never heard of it either. I really should get out more... So, this Lupin woke up one morning to find his wife dead. Just like that. No sign of struggle, no nothing. Diagnosed by all sorts of medi-wizards, and they all say natural death. Not even Avada Kedavra. The problem is, though, there was no reason for her to die. It wasn't stress; they lived in a little cottage somewhere in Siberia. It wasn't age because he's 50 and she was a bit older than him... 52 I think. Basically, two people in the prime of their lives. There is a motive for murder though," Janice rambled endlessly. She was a firm believer in constant repetition. Ginny always ended up with two or three filled quill books by the end of every week... and they were always filled with the same thing.

"So, this Lupin woke up one morning to find his wife dead. Just like that. No sign of--"

"Ok, I er... got that part. Who were her enemies?" Ginny asked.

"Everybody, that's the reason she moved to Siberia. Some snowy place out in the middle of nowhere. Don't worry, I'd never heard of it either. I need to get out more... Anyway, the woman grew enemies like Draco grows money. Which grows on bushes, NOT trees. You learn something new every day. So, basically everybody is her enemy, me included. She gave forty-four Death Eater names to the authorities, including her first husband, Lucius Malfoy. Forty-four people, right there, who wanted to kill her. Forty-five, if you count me. Those days, I had so much work to do... getting all those sad lumps out of Azkaban. Forty-four people, right there, who wanted to kill her. Forty-five, including me, but don't worry about that, because I certainly didn't do it. This is what I have at the moment, and Draco is talking to Lupin right now, and he should be done in an hour. I need a list of those forty-four people who wanted to kill her."

"By tomorrow, sure."

"Of course, the case. So, this Lupin woke up one morning to find his wife dead. Just like that. No sign of struggle, no nothing," Janice kept talking, so Ginny just stopped taking notes.

***

"I sincerely apologize for what happened yesterday. It was extremely insensitive of me to laugh at something so serious as the death of your wife, though be she my mother," Draco said in a monotone. He was trying to recall memories of grammar school to see if "though be she" was grammatically correct. He would have a much easier time recalling these memories if he'd actually been to grammar school, but it was a Muggle place, and he only read about it in comic books he bought from the black market. (Otherwise known as his cousin Seleuces.)

Lupin cleared his throat and disrupted Draco's ponderings. "Malfoy, why are you reading to me from that piece of paper?"

"It's my contract. Unfortunately, I owe a great deal to a woman who helped me get out of Azkaban, and she uses that wizarding debt to force me into demeaning things, such as reading apologies off pieces of paper. The faster I finish reading this, the faster we can get to the case. I have to get to my other work."

"Other work? So you're only an assassin half the time. What are you the other half? A politician?" Lupin mocked, smiling slightly. It was the first time he'd smiled since... a long time ago.

"Actually, I'm an investment banker for Gringotts International. Do you want to get to your case sometime this century or not?" Draco snapped, checking his watch. He seemed annoyed on the outside, but he was annoyed on the inside. It was eight in the morning, there was seven more feet left of this apology letter to read, there was a loan seminar to attend at eleven, and he had to be home by six to watch Larney (the big purple dragon) with the mini-fiends, or Lucius would run around the house all night screaming about child neglect. "Neglect" was a new word he had learned, and knowledge came with a price. After mentally skimming his schedule for the day, Draco returned to the task at hand.

"I sincerely apologize for what happened yesterday. It was extremely insensitive of me to laugh at something so serious as the death of your wife, though be she--"

"Stop, you read that part twice already.... And "be she" sounds grammatically incorrect."

"Look, Lupin. Look at the paper. Each paragraph is written three times. It says at the bottom that I stop when I have read the entire letter to you, or when you walk out and slam the door. Due to my wizarding debt, I am required to obey these instructions. If you have a problem with the er... repetitive wording, I suggest you walk out and slam the door." Draco spat. The patented Malfoy steely gray eyes dug into Lupin like glass nails. He was pleased to find out that his stare-factor was still intact at the ancient age of twenty-nine. Lupin regarded Draco skeptically, but obliged by walking out the door, slamming it, and then coming back in. He decided that even if it didn't work, the exercise would be good for him. Due to Janice's imprecise wording when writing apology letters, and a few quick requests to Gugumala on Draco's part, the parchment in his hand disappeared the second Lupin came back inside. Smirking, the assassin/investment banker (equally evil occupations) cracked his knuckles. It was time to start the real work.

***

After arriving at Lupin's cottage in Siberia, Ginny remembered why she became a secretary for Double A and not an operative. People tended to commit murders in harsh environments.

"Calientate." Draco muttered. The heating charm worked like magic. He and Lupin seemed unaffected by the cold, but Ginny had been freezing while describing the surroundings and her writing had been getting messier as her hand shook with cold.

"I could have done it myself!" Ginny snapped, glaring at him. He really didn't care what she said, as long as the writing was legible. After arriving at Lupin's cottage in Siberia, Draco remembered why he became an operative for Double A. People tended to commit murders in interesting locations... like Siberia. Temperatures didn't bother him much because of his vampire blood.

Lupin was just unaffected by the cold because at the moment, he was unaffected by everything else. Why start with temperature? It was skewed logic, but if it kept him warm, Lupin figured it was alright.

"Hey, what are these?" Draco asked, coming out of the cottage holding up three pieces of string. On closer examination, they proved to be short black hairs. Lupin waited a second so Draco could repeat the question three times, one for each hair. He didn't. Apparently, only Janice did things like that.

"Three black hairs." Lupin replied in a monotone. The cottage held too many memories...

"Right, three human hairs. I found them by the bed," Draco stated, looking at them carefully. Lupin was looking at him oddly and Ginny was falling asleep while standing. She'd spent the last night thinking about why fate stuck her with the Sad Lump. Speaking of whom, Draco put the hairs in a plastic bag, and then put the bag in one of the many pockets inside his black trench coat. In fact, he put them in the pocket labeled "Evidence," which was next to the pocket labeled "False ID's."

"I take it not many people have been to this place?"

"No one other than me. She hated visitors... Even after she died, I wouldn't let anyone in. Sealed it up with locking charms and left. Haven't been back until today."

"Right." Draco said, rolling his eyes. He still couldn't believe what a fool this Lupin was, to love his mother. Narcissa probably killed herself for having gotten stuck with such a typical Gryffindor, or so he thought.

"Malfoy, re-do that heating charm." Ginny muttered. Her teeth were chattering and she was rubbing her hands together furiously to keep them warm. Draco smirked at her, but he re-did the heating charm.

"Women." Lupin and Malfoy muttered simultaneously. Frowning, they glanced at each other, and shared a brief millisecond of unity. They were on one side. There was no Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, but Male vs. Female. The poor, mistreated, malnourished and overwhelmingly deprived, YET superior gender vs. tyrannical incompetents who insisted on silly things like Valentine's Day, chocolate and anniversary presents while forcing burnt bean casserole down the throat of a mistreated YET superior male. Oh the pain!

Lupin blinked quickly, rubbing his eyes quickly with the back of his hand. He remembered the last time she made him burnt bean casserole... It was in the shape of a snake, simply because it couldn't be in the shape of anything else. And it had tasted better than any burnt bean casserole in the entire universe.

Draco scowled at the same time, remembering his last experience with burnt bean casserole. It was the-men-will-cook family reunion at the Weasley household when he and Percy had been assigned the bean casserole. They made something very closely resembling bean casserole, but it suddenly burst into flames, burning a hole through the dish and counter as well. Percy began cursing with his extensive vocabulary about the shallow dish-bottoms, and how they should be more like his new and improved cauldrons. Draco was forced to use highly illegal Dark Magic to summon minions of Gugumala. Gugumala's minions saved the day by fixing up the kitchen (the other Weasley brothers had burnt part of it too), and ordering Chinese takeout from the Muggles. They also brought a fire extinguisher.

"Draco!" Ginny snapped, shaking him.

"What?"

"Look at him! I think he's in a trance. He was saying something about bean casserole," she said, clearly puzzled. Draco made a mental note to eliminate all bean casseroles when he was made ruler of the world.

"Forget him. Look over there, Weasley! It's Potter!" Draco exclaimed, saying the first thing that came to his mind. Oddly enough, there was a rustle in the bushes and a popping noise that sounded a lot like apparition. Draco made a mental note of that, too.

"Will you EVER stop doing that? I stopped falling for it after the first... oh, I don't know, forty-seven-billion times!" she snapped angrily, stealing a glance backwards when she thought Draco wasn't looking. His shrewd eyes missed nothing, and he connected two and two.

"You came to Siberia to see if you could find Potter," he said. There was no emotion in his voice, it sounded like the monotone voice of a subliminal message tape. Using her years of expertise as a Rosetta stone, Ginny deciphered the hieroglyphics. The cold hearted bastard thought it was funny!

"You came to Siberia to find your mother's killer!" she retorted rather weakly. Her comebacks needed work because Draco found this even more amusing. It's a mystery how Ginny could tell, because no one else could. (With the exception of Gugumala, patron saint of Dark Lords.)

Before Draco could reply with the scathing statements he was known for, Ginny walked up and started rubbing his nose furiously with her finger. He looked bewildered.

"Woman what the hell are you doing?"

"You had dirt," Ginny shrugged. Draco rubbed his nose. Lupin cleared his throat... again. Their bickering and nose-cleaning wasn't getting anyone anywhere, except the bacteria that had been on Draco's nose was now freezing in the snow...but that didn't count.

"Is that all you found? Those three black hairs?" Lupin asked, looking intently at Draco, who cleared his expression. His nose was a bit red from all the rubbing.

"Yeah, that's all I found."

"Alright," Lupin muttered, apparating away without a word. He didn't want to stay in Siberia a moment longer than he had too. Ginny looked at Draco quizzically.

"Is that really all you found?" she asked, with all the skepticism of a child being told that the tooth fairy was really his father. (But Daddy is a man... right?)

"Weasley, you better get back home to watch Larney. Its five fifty-eight, and considering the fact that Lucius is watching his sister and brother, the kitchen could blow up again if you don't get home," he replied, completely ignoring the question. Ginny would've asked again, but his logic was infallible and the kitchen was too precious to lose again.

***

"Er... Janice, you there?" Draco said, tossing green powder into the fire. Janice appeared, haggard looking, with cartons of Chinese food scattered around the floor.

"Obviously, if I'm sitting right in front of you, obviously!"

"I'm in Narcissa's little shack right now."

"Ginny said you found three black hairs."

"Women's network?" Draco asked, looking extremely skeptical.

"Ginny said you found three black hairs."

"Yeah... I got that part..."

"Other than the three black hairs Ginny said you found, what did you find?" Janice asked. Draco went into businesslike mode, and pulled out a stack of parchment, making notes every now and then.

"There are exactly 666 undetectable wards around the place. All dark magic, which is why the idiot Aurors didn't find them. I found a bloody corpse transfigured into a yellow Bertie Bott bean. There were crates of Ether poison under the floorboards... A couple bottles of sleeping draught in the bedroom. There were love letters to her in the drawer, from about 50 different men and 7 women," Draco said, snorting. Poor, pathetic Lupin. He continued before Janice could inform him that Ginny said he found three black hairs.

"Half of Borgin and Burkes was downsized under her pillow, and an inactivated portkey to Gugumala knows where," he muttered, putting away the parchment and the Larney quill he'd gotten from Numina on Father's Day. Janice whistled as he gathered up all the evidence and downsized it into a little bag.

"You have quite a job on your hands there... There's a suspect list of the forty-four people who wanted to kill her... she turned them all into Azkaban," Janice muttered. Draco looked up sharply.

"Does Weasley have that list?"

"Yes, but I didn't... endanger our business in the process."

"So it should actually be forty-six, then?" Draco said, looking minutely relieved. Janice nodded, and continued to describe how she did not endanger the business.

***

Ginny massaged her temples and craned her neck to see over the large mountains of paperwork that were set in front of her. Her hand was cramped from signing all the horrid lease agreements and waiver forms that came with being one of Wizarding Britain's leading robe designers. She was blissfully ignorant to the fact that her market was every assassin, spy, bodyguard and common thug. Unknown to Ginny, the secret to her success was the numerous dagger-shaped pockets she strategically inserted into many of her styles. It was, of course, Draco's idea.

She scowled, pushing apart the papers to check the status of the youngest mini-fiend, the currently unnamed. He was tottering around happily, supported on either side by the two Malfoy Hell Hounds, Ripper and Bones. Despite this seemingly peaceful scene, Ginny was filled with a feeling of dread that came second nature to a mother of three. Groaning, she waded through and hopped over the stacks of parchment in front of her, covered the baby's ears and took a deep breath.

"LUUUCIUUUUUUSSS!" she shouted, for at least twenty-five seconds. It should've broken a record. The dogs whimpered and retreated into the fireplace, where Hell Hounds are most comfortable. Even they could tell that Ginny was in a bad mood. The baby shivered, not exactly knowing why.

"Raalfi?" he muttered softly. Ginny bounced him a bit as she continued to scream all around the house. A vein was sticking out on her neck.

"LUUUUCIIIIIIIUUUUUUUSSSS!" It was twenty-eight seconds this time. After searching all fifteen bedrooms of the house, her patience was thinner than the hair on Fudge's head. She stormed down into the dungeons, the last place anyone would look. The only thing down there was... well, dungeons. Actually, dungeons and The Room, but Draco sealed it with no less than sixty-seven dark enchantments and a password that not even Voldemort could crack. Of course, Lucius and Numina were inside. Ginny's patience disappeared in entirety.

"What are you doing in here?"

"We--"

"Do you have ANY idea how dangerous it is?"

"I--"

"HOW did you get in here?" Ginny asked. She finally stopped shouting; wondering how two children had done what she couldn't and broken into The Room.

"We said Daddy's pass-word," Numina said, extremely proud of her accomplishment. Lucius scowled.

"Nu-UH! I said Father's password."

"What was it?" Ginny asked, curiously.

"It was 'Bloody Kids'," Lucius reported proudly. His sister gasped.

"You said a BAD word!"

"Nu-UH! It was a PASSword," he corrected.

Numina pushed him and he shoved her. Then, she shoved him, and he shoved her. Ginny decided that when push came to shove, it was time for bed. She gently separated them with her free hand and handed the baby to Lucius.

"Numina, go upstairs and brush your teeth. Lucius, take...your brother... into the living room and just... sit there for a while, understood?" she asked, looking directly at Lucius. Numina had already gone, but he stayed, scowling.

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

"WHY do you say so, Mother?" Lucius asked, looking up at her and giving no indication of leaving. Ginny groaned inwardly, preparing herself to defy all maternal logic and offer her son a bribe.

"Lucius, if you take him into the living room and stay there, I will give you ice cream before you go to bed. Okay?"

"Okay! Bye-bye!" he said happily, carrying the baby up. Lucius would grow up to be a shrewd negotiator.

After the mini-fiends were safely away, Ginny proceeded to examine The Room's contents. Fortunately, Draco was smart enough to make the shelves five feet high, so the younger potential intruders couldn't reach. Ginny also noted that he had put a blood charm on the room. Anyone without Malfoy blood in them who forced their way in without the password would be struck with a pole on entry. It wasn't the cleanest way to do things, but it served the Malfoy family well for many generations.

She quickly examined Draco's trunk of poisons, ranging from the fatal Basilisk extract to the deadly uncooked potato root. Then, she looked over his rather pathetic dagger collection; there were only three. Most of them were worn away from constant use. His job required the constant use of daggers. Contrary to popular belief, assassination is a specialized craft, and each branch of assassins has a two letter symbol that must be carved into the foot of every victim. This helps avoid confusion over which branch killed which person. None of his various destructive objects were of any interest to Ginny.

She was about to leave when a particular black goblet in a far corner of the room caught her attention. It was a pensieve. A wise man once said curiosity killed the cat but unlike curious cats, curious humans end up discovering things like gravity, relativity, or the simple fact that fire burns. Ginny was about to discover a rather nasty part of Draco's past as she touched the swirling thoughts inside his pensieve and felt herself sucked inside his random memories.

***

"Oh...Gregory...don't stop!" a voice moaned from inside closed, green velvet bed curtains. Ginny was about to scream, but then she remembered she was inside a pensieve and let out a bloodcurdling shriek. Now she knew what Draco meant when he said his pre-Azkaban memories were somewhat traumatic. Sniggering pulled Ginny out of her thoughts... or rather, sniggering from Draco's thoughts pulled Ginny out of her thoughts about the thoughts that she was thinking about. Yes.

"What an idiot. Can't even cast a proper sound trapping charm," spat the young Draco, sniggering uncontrollably. Vincent Crabbe, who was on the bed next to him, began quoting his mission statement. Thankfully, puberty did a lot for his pea-sized brain. It was now the size of a large olive.

"Love blinds, love deafens, love mutes, love cripples, and love brings acute arthritis in the left forefinger! Love--"

"Will you shut the bloody hell up?!"

"Okay."

"Thank you Vinny, now I can get back to reading Grindelwald: The Unofficial Biography! Gugumala wrote it, you know, the patron saint of all dark lords."

"You read too much, Draco."

"Wonderful observation. You deserve a prize."

"Really?"

"NO!"

"Hey! The sounds stopped!" Vincent announced gleefully. Draco was about to thank Gugumala when the series of moans started again. Both boys scowled and slammed pillows over their heads. Pansy's moans sounded like the cries of a dying donkey who was choking on boar vomit. Goyle was the boar, simultaneously moaning, being sick, and being choked by a dying donkey. It was not very pleasant.

Now clutching her ears in nauseous agony, Ginny decided she'd had enough. Using her wand and a whole lot of willpower, she made it back to The Room, only to run to the bathroom, and vomit.

***

"...Weasley?" Draco asked, cautiously approaching his bed and poking Ginny in the stomach with one finger. She blearily opened her eyes and groaned. He looked as calm as he ever did, but Ginny could see the fear in his ears. Draco had been informed by Lucius that she gave him ice cream, put him to bed, and went back to vomiting furiously.

"Weasley?"

"WHAT?!" she yelled, with the air of someone who's eaten too many sweets, drunk too much coke, stuffed themselves silly with food in general, or just walked in on Pansy Parkinson and Gregory Goyle devoting themselves to personal matters.

"LuciusisgettingbloodthirstysoI'mtakinghimtothevampirepub, okay?" Draco asked quickly, glancing at his watch and preparing to plug his ears. She groaned in response. He thanked Gugumala and got out of the room faster than his legs could carry him. There was nothing worse than Ginny the angry Gryffindor on a good day, except Ginny the angry Gryffindor on a bad day.

Draco walked outside to find Lucius standing outside the door, as usual. He looked pale and his eyes were red. The older Malfoy scowled and picked up his young son, muttering something about seventeen steaks as they apparated to a place in Knockturn Alley, as usual.

They arrived in a dingy alleyway which reeked of illegal mixtures. Draco's trained nose picked out no less than five fatal poisons, eight temporary draughts of hell, three torture mixes, and one sundae topped with strawberry flavored, magical-potency arsenic. Ah yes, it smelled like home.

"Father? Where are we?" Lucius asked, after being set down on the ground. His voice was shaky and his throat was drier than the Sahara on ice. His question went unanswered as they reached the pub. Large neon signs adorned the entryway, reading "Blood Shots." When the pub was founded in the 18^th century, it was a large dome shaped structure with magnificent towers and gargoyles perched on top of the roof. Now, it was reduced to a dilapidated shack made up of poles and multi-colored tarps. Lucius gaped in awe.

"Whoa. It's a tent!" he announced, jumping up and down excitedly. Draco allowed himself a smile while he got a small bottle of white liquid from the bartender of the side window. He handed it to Lucius, who was struggling to read the neon sign.

"Bee-Ell-Oh-Oh-Duh. Beelohohd. Sa-Hots. Beelohod Sahots!! Right?"

"...What sound does S-H make, kid?"

"Sh."

"So what does the second word say?"

"Sahots!"

"...What are the first two letters?"

"S-H."

"What sound does that make?"

"SHHHH!"

"So what does the word say?"

"Sahots!"

"Sound it out! S-H!"

"S..hhh... Shahots?"

"...Close enough," Draco said, shuddering slightly at the prospect of teaching two more people how to read. The future was bleak.

"Father? What is this?" Lucius asked, brandishing the milky liquid after sipping some and making a face.

"That, is soymilk."

"What's that?"

"It's milk made from soybeans."

"What's that?"

"The stuff you're drinking."

"What's that?"

"Soymilk."

"What's that?"

"It's... It's Vampire food, Lucius. Little boys who drink it grow big and strong. And they don't have to go to school if they drink it without asking questions, and their parents buy them lots of toys."

"Really?" Lucius asked, gulping it all down. It's a good thing he didn't hear Draco mutter a faint "No."

Just when the young half-vampire was about to ask a few more annoying questions, a man walked through the door (a hole in one of the hot pink tarps) surrounded by stunning women clad in... well, almost nothing. Draco instinctively clamped one hand over Lucius' eyes and carried him out the back, never moving his eyes from the man surrounded by stunning women. Draco quickly apparated them into Lucius' bedroom and set the kid down on his bed. He was fast asleep.

That is the great thing about half-vampires. They only need four hours of sleep, but they fall asleep in a matter of seconds, and once they're asleep, nothing wakes them up for another four hours. He was extremely lucky that Lucius fell asleep at that moment, because the man surrounded by stunning women was one of the most notorious underworld figures at the moment, and he had more enemies than Lucius had annoying questions.

Draco apparated back to Blood Shots after grabbing a pouch of small purple vials. The poison inside them was actually blue, but he dyed them all purple in order to enhance the evil effect. The man surrounded by stunning woman was now in the very corner of the pub, directly in front of the lime green tarp. Draco decided to investigate. He sat down on a stool and the bartender passed him a ginger ale without thinking, it was routine. Unlike many others, assassins didn't have the privilege of drinking on the job. Sharp gray eyes quickly scanned the room for any signs of... well, anything. They settled on a young, curvaceous woman who was a few feet away from her fellow workers, who were clustered around the man surrounded by stunning woman. After a moment of pondering, he decided on winking suggestively. Malfoy winks have been refined over many centuries to be especially suggestive, and Draco was a Malfoy to the core. He followed up with a dazzling smile and a bit of light was reflected off his teeth, rather like an old Muggle toothpaste commercial. The woman walked over and decided to introduce herself.

"Sally Mathers," she said politely, extending a hand. Draco smiled inwardly, this was too easy. It must've been her first day on the job.

"Beautiful name for a beautiful woman," he said, smiling again. Sally melted.

"So... do you come here often?"

Draco decided that she was new to the business, seeing that she was shifting uncomfortably in her revealing... things, too small to be called clothes. He remembered his father saying that good things came in small packages and felt a small stab of guilt when he applied it to the situation.

"This is my first time, actually. You?" he asked, pulling a mug of Ogden's Old Firewhisky and putting a drop of purple liquid in it before handing it to Sally. It was Blab potion mixed with Veritaserum and Confundum Fluid, otherwise known as Dark Magic. The effects were instantaneous.

"Me too!" Sally giggled, taking another swig of the whisky. Draco, the expert, engaged her in small talk for a while, until her well-endowed chest was heaving and hitching with every hiccough. The revealing Thing was almost falling off. Fortunately, Draco prided himself on his self-control, and decided it was time to start the questioning before he got distracted.

"Who is that man?"

"Who? The ... hic... one always... hic... surrounded by ...hic... st-st-stunning women?"

"No, the fat one over there, always surrounded by beer."

"Who? Wossname, ...hic...you mean Homer...hic...?"

"Never mind. Who is the man always surrounded by stunning woman?"

"...hic...In the underworld, we call him... hic... Bob."

"Wonderful. It sounds very intimidating, Bob. Yes, I'm shaking in my boots," Draco replied sarcastically. This was getting nowhere.

"Y-you're...hic...hot!" she blabbed. At least the potion was working.

"Does he have a name, other than Bob, the man who's always surrounded by stunning woman?"

"Kimson ...hic... Weebles."

"Right, and what does he do?"

"K-Kimson Weebles."

"Look, do you know what he does?"

"He p-pays us to...hic...sleep with h-him, but I-I'd much rather ...hic... sleep with ...hic...you!" she gurgled, leaning up against him. The revealing Thing slipped down onto her stomach and her bare, heaving chest was pushed up against him.

Then, a very odd thing happened, Draco immediately fingered his wedding band and thought of Ginny. He shuddered, wondering why he thought of his wife. Guilt stabbed him, just as he had stabbed many others, even though Draco knew that he wasn't doing anything at all. He scowled, the divorce was long overdue. He covered Sally up as best he could and effortlessly lifted her up in his arms, carrying her to the back of the pub (behind the cardboard counter and towards the brightest orange tarp). A pimply faced teenager sputtered indignantly when they walked in.

"Hey! You can't be here! It's... whoa..." he stammered, immediately stopping his tirade when he saw Sally and her attributes. His pimples nearly popped.

"She's all yours," Draco winked conspiratorially, like a relay runner passing the baton to his teammate. He put her down and pushed her millimeters away from the still gaping boy. Her revealing Thing fell down again, and the boy's jaw went slack. Sally giggled, losing her balance and falling on the boy. A faint popping noise was audible as his eyes slid in and out of focus. Sally began removing the boy's clothing while giggling and licking him. Thankfully, the boy's apron landed on Draco's face and spared him from witnessing the horrid ordeal.

He smirked, this was too easy. One thing Draco learned in the AA was that horny bartenders always made assassination a lot easier. He pulled the apron on after using a cleansing spell on it and set to work methodically filling up mugs of beer and mixing in purple potions. One mug in particular was a little bigger than the rest. He filled it with Firewhisky and an entire vial of bruise-colored potion; it was blue, purple or dark green depending on the light. This was the Draught of the Living Death, one of his specialties. However it was a misnomer, there was nothing living about it. Normally, it made people fall into a deep sleep. When combined with a drop of chocolate syrup, this sleep was eternal.

Draco used Wingardium Leviosa to lift all the mugs in the air and carry them outside, smirking as he heard more moans. Now, only the man surrounded by stunning women, Kimson Weebles, and his companions remained in the pub. All the other self-respecting vampires had left once Bacchus and his frenzied nymphs arrived. This made Draco's job even easier. Everyone inside the pub was already drunk, but he put Confundum Fluid in all the drinks as an extra precaution. One could never be too careful in the AA.

"On the house!" he shouted, handing beers to everyone. They rushed madly towards Draco. It was the sort of riotous movement that happens when ticket booths open to the public in overcrowded Indian cities filled with movie-craving Muggles. The Malfoy just smirked and took it in stride.

"Now, now, ladies, there's plenty of Draco to go around," he said, flashing them all his toothpaste commercial smile. Someone swooned, overwhelmed by Draco's smile... or maybe it was just the combined effect of twenty-two beers and Confundum Fluid.

Fifteen minutes later, all the stunning women had passed out on the ground and moans radiated from behind the cardboard boxes that served as a makeshift counter. Draco was, more or less, alone with an extremely drunk Kimson Weebles, the man no longer surrounded by beautiful women, who had exactly 59.99 minutes left of life. Draco was frantically questioning him.

"What do you know about Narcissa Malfoy?"

"It's getting hot in here! SO TAKE OFF ALL YOUR CLOTHES! Oooh, I am... getting so hot, I wanna take my CLOTHES off!...Oooh, I am... getting so hot..." Weebles shouted, swaying and drooling.

Draco wondered what the hell he was singing, but dismissed it as a bout of insanity and tried plan two, shoving more Veritaserum down Weebles' throat. The shouting stopped abruptly, just as Weebles pulled off his shirt and started waving it around in the air.

"What do you know about Narcissa Malfoy?" Draco spat, re-positioning his quill.

"She was beautiful," Weebles replied in a monotone. Draco flinched, it was a disgusting thought.

"That's nice... how do you know her? Was she involved in the underground?"

"Yes, she was in the underground. I met her when we had an affair." Draco smirked. Poor, deluded Lupin, loving a woman like Narcissa.

"When her son was in the third year, I believe?" he asked, unable to help himself.

"I don't know. She hated her son," Weebles replied, his voice never changing its inflection. Draco was torn between scowling at the memory of his mother's hatred for him and smirking at Lupin's Gryffindor idiocy. He chose the latter.

"Tell me more about her involvement with the underworld."

"She ran a whore house-"

"How fitting," he snapped. Weebles only had twenty minutes left, and Draco was no closer to narrowing down the list of suspects.

"-in Siberia," Weebles continued, oblivious to Draco's comment. The assassin frowned slightly at this statement, and commanded Weebles to report everything he knew about it, which was absolutely nothing.

"Where I met her, called the Mongoose. She told the ministry it was a Muggle hunting store. They didn't know enough to investigate it. They stole jewels, blue diamonds, very rare, magical stones, and demented vampire blood. Evil stones, power. Take away forever life, but not life. Mongoose, snake and mongoose enemies. Snake. Snake, snake, Lucius Malfoy. Demented vampire blood. Harry Potter. Mongoose. Underworld. Deal. Demented. Blue D-d-I-amonddsss.... Ooohh. It's getting hot in here! SO TAKE OFF ALL YOUR CLOTHES! Oooh, I am... getting so hot, I wanna take my CLOTHES off!...Oooh, I am... getting so hot... Hot. Blue. Diamonds. Demented. Ooohh It's getting hot in here! Hot. Blue Potter. Mongoose, snake, Lucius Malfoy. Pot....eraaahhhh," Weebles said. Those were his rather memorable last words. Draco, who was extremely annoyed at this point, stabbed Weebles' foot as the last nerve endings in his brain began to sizzle and fry. He finally stopped his ramblings.

Draco apparated away, leaving the man screaming in agony. Eight oozing cuts were in Weebles' left foot. Together, they resembled "A bloody A."