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Some Blond Fool	By : AndreaLorraine Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 46886 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 16
- 17
- 18
Author�s Note: �Okay, sorry for the delay.� The SBF muse is a bit capricious.� I�ve been done with school about 10 days now
and somehow I�m STILL scrambling with ten thousand things to do.� However, writing this chapter was very
enjoyable.� I�m really having fun
descending into the mob stuff, and as you know I do love me some twists and
turns, so this is chock full.� In this
chapter: Hermione does a little bit of plotting, Draco
meets someone from the past while out with his classmates, Lucius
gets a little more than he bargained for, and Narcissa
loses her temper.

�� Hermione woke to a strange
sound.� Rather, it was a strange
amalgamation of sounds.� It was�a
song?� She lay still, absorbing the
melody.� She didn�t recognize it, but it
was peaceful and complex.� Whatever it
was, she liked it.� Now to figure out
where it was coming from�

�� She sat up, rubbing sleep from her
eyes.� Ah, there on her night stand, the
source of the music was carefully placed.�
It was a cell phone atop a scrap of parchment, looped over with Draco Malfoy�s handwriting.

�� She picked up the phone.� It must be his; hers was very basic and if
she wasn�t mistaken, it was currently sitting at the bottom of one of her
handbags with a dead battery.� She was
notoriously bad at remembering to charge it.�
The only people who ever called her on it were her parents, anyhow, and
rarely at that.� Though she had been
talking to her Mum more lately because of the divorce and the slow development
of her new relationship; she was thrilled that said relationship was only with
one man and that he wasn�t old enough to be her father.

�� Hermione frowned.� She still regretted not jumping at her chance
to experience the man that was old enough to be her father.� There was something to be said for age and
experience.� But it was obvious that Lucius didn�t have the same feelings for her as Draco; she suspected he was always game for some
flirtation, yet his heart belonged to someone else, someone he thought was out
of reach.� Hermione shook her head.� His heart belonged to Narcissa,
the lucky bitch, and the only people who didn�t know it were Lucius and Narcissa.

�� She wondered if Narcissa�s
marriage would last.� Draco
had a few choice words for her fianc�; part of it could be chalked up to
loyalty to his father, but the rest of it was just genuine dislike.� Lucius was too set
on not interfering, thinking that he had already done enough damage, and
Hermione wished she could explain to him the circuitous and nonsensical way a
woman reacted to being caught between an old love and a new one.� Staying out of the way in the name of her
happiness was noble and selfless, but at the same time it rankled because it
seemed like he wouldn�t fight for her.�
It was hypocritical, antiquated, and absurd, but that was how it worked.

�� If she was a betting woman, she
would put all her money on Narcissa going back to him
� if he just stormed in there, professed his feelings, and demanded it.� There was something about first loves;
Hermione could attest, because in spite of all that Ron had done and how little
he deserved any speck of emotion from her, she still loved him.� That love was irrevocably changed, but it
would never go away.� She had fallen in
love with and married the best version of Ron and seen him change into
something else.� There was no hope of
reclaiming what they�d had.� On the other
hand, Narcissa had fallen for a lesser version of Lucius.� Now he�d
changed for the better and realized what a fool he�d been; there was every
chance of reclaiming what they�d had and more.

�� Lucius was
a powerful, passionate man.� If he
directed that power and passion at Narcissa (instead
of his money, politics, or pride), she would fall for him again.� All mistakes aside, whatever Lucius chose to invest his energy in never failed to
prosper...

�� Hm.� Perhaps she�d have to employ some Slytherin tactics to make that happen.� Six months ago she wouldn�t have trusted Draco Malfoy�s judgment, but she
did now.� If he didn�t think Giacomo Cannavare was the right
man for his mum he was probably correct.�
Lucius was playing martyr and Narcissa was playing denial.� Oh, Slytherins and
their games.

�� With a smile, Hermione picked up the
phone and poked at the touch screen until the song stopped.� It was the same phone Lucius
had; silly her, ever thinking that Draco wasn�t adept
with this kind of technology.� He was
proving to be a better boyfriend than Ron ever had.� He�d set the phone to wake her in time to get
ready for the school day.� She skimmed
over the note.

Good morning, beautiful. I couldn�t sleep;
I�m all screwed up with these time changes, so I went back to work on some
things for school.� Plus, I knew that if
I stayed I would make you late for your classes and I don�t want McGonagall to
ban me from visiting you.� You were
fantastic last night.� Just remember,
once I�ve made up all those points it�s my turn�

I think Saturday is a good day to start your
list.� I�ve got tickets to Samson and
Delilah.� Wear something nice.� I�ll see you at 6.

�� She smiled.� Yes, as incredible as it seemed, she had really
hit the jackpot with Draco.

��

�� Waiting was excruciating.� Lucius had never
been good at it, but rarely was it this bad.�
Most waiting was meaningless; standing in line for something, patiently
awaiting someone�s arrival, watching things change subtly over time�but this
was not meaningless.� This was his
wife.� Ex-wife.� God, that really was an awful title.

�� It was times like these that Lucius fervently wished for something to smoke.� He wasn�t a smoker except for the occasional
cigar, but those who were always seemed so entertained by their habit.� He�d heard that those who quit had a terrible
time with boredom, for smoking was something to do to pass time.� And this was Europe,
after all; everyone and their grandmother smoked.� One would think wizards and witches were more
enlightened, but it wasn�t so, if the magic folk that bustled around Adriatica Alley were any indication.

�� He caved and bummed a cigarette from
a pretty witch.� Frankly, she seemed
thrilled that he even spoke to her and tried to draw him into further
conversation, but his mind couldn�t construct a sentence.� All told he left her rather rudely.� He didn�t care.� He lit the cigarette with his wand.� Merlin, he hadn�t smoked since the age of
fifteen.� His mother had smelled it on
him and not-so-subtly told him that smoking could reduce a man�s sperm
count.� Whether it was true or not, that
was akin to blasphemy among purebloods, whose fertility rates were already low
without any extra chemical help.

�� Well, it didn�t matter at the
moment.� Nobody gave a shit if he was
shooting blanks, himself included.� Right
now he only cared about Narcissa.� So he sat and smoked his cigarette.� It was gone much too quickly and in spite of
nicotine�s reputation for settling a person down, it did little to calm his
nerves.

�� He was in line at a small shop
buying an entire pack of the damned cancer sticks when a snippet of
conversation drifted to him.

�� Enzo says
he�s crazy,� one man on the far end of the shop was saying.� He was short and stocky with sun-burnished
skin and dark hair buzzed close to his skull to gracefully fend off his
receding hairline.� The man he was
talking to was his polar opposite.� He
was tall and lean, his skin several shades lighter than his companion, with
dark blond hair in a ponytail.

�� He�s always been crazy,� the paler
man said, plucking a bottled drink out of a beverage case.

�� Really crazy.� He tried to off him.�

�� You shitting me?�

�� That�s what I hear from Desi.�

�� Enzo and Desi.� Short for
Lorenzo and Desiderio.� Lorenzo
Scattori and Desiderio
Mancini.� Lucius
had already made the mistake of not memorizing the names of his foes once; the
minute he�d figured out Narcissa�s dilemma, he
committed every name on those family trees to rote memory.� These two were clearly members of the Milan�s hybrid Scattori-Mancini crime family.� Not capos or even soldato,
because if they were they wouldn�t discuss things so freely where anyone could
hear.� Low ranking enforcement men, then
- picciotto.�
They wouldn�t last long if they couldn�t keep their mouths shut.� However, right now that was working to his
advantage.

�� The two men made their way up to the
counter.� There were two people between Lucius and them, and three in front of Lucius.� The cashier was pitifully slow, a young thing
snapping her gum who barely seemed able to count the galleons, knuts, and sickles she was receiving.� It was a perfect eavesdropping scenario.� Lucius willed them
to keep talking.

�� Well, Luca always said we should
have killed the bastard.� Only thing that
held him back was Rita.� Didn�t want to
break his cousin�s heart, you know?�

�� The short one snorted.� �Rita has a heart?�� The two of them laughed.� On any other day Lucius
would have chuckled with them, because they were entirely right � but not
today.

�� The short one continued once their
mirth had passed.� �Anyway, Enzo got patched up by that healer.� The one who used to take care of Nino.�

�� Gianluca?�

�� Nah, I think it�s Giacomo.�

�� Lucius�s
eyes narrowed.� These two were clueless.� This was the plague of any evil genius or
remotely subversive organization � stupid help.�
Scattori could have people anywhere.� The girl at the counter could work for him,
for all they knew.� There could be a
recording device jammed in a licorice wand, now in strawberry flavor.� They were not nearly paranoid enough.

�� Oh, yeah, Giacomo,
I remember him now.� Hot fianc�e.�

�� Yeah, the blonde.� Pretty thing.�
I�d love to have her lips
around my--�

�� And suddenly, Lucius
had enough.� It was time to teach these
half-rate lackeys a lesson.� He dropped
the pack of cigarettes, turned, stepped around the people that separated him
from the morons, and punched the wish right out of the stupid mafioso�s mouth.�
And, much as he�d expected, the people parted, disappearing quickly and
leaving him to face two shocked, inexperienced men who had no concept of what
they were in for.

�� Draco felt
out of place.� His classmates had
insisted on going out, even though it was Tuesday.� He had mostly gotten over his need to drink
himself stupid in University, but he didn�t mind having a beer or two and
getting to know his classmates better.

�� He clicked with two of them: the
Hawaiian, David, and one of the Philadelphians, Ryan.� The two from New York, Gabriel and Ernesto, didn�t
dislike him, nor he them, but they�d kept mostly to themselves so far.� Draco strongly
suspected that they were a couple.� The
Japanese man, Isamu (or Sam � for some reason he preferred that), was reserved
and Draco thought he had probably been swayed by the
German, Henric.�
Henric barely tolerated him.� In every flick of the European�s eye, Draco could see that he was one of many that hadn�t
forgotten his involvement with Voldemort.� He hadn�t even given Draco
a chance, but at least he settled for simple shunning; in all other aspects, he
was professional.� The South African
woman, Chelsea, spent most of her time on a mobile phone or writing letters to
her fianc�.� Lastly, there was Telemachus, or Telly for short,
the second Philadelphian.� He was a loose
cannon, the youngest of the group, and at times even Greene became irritated
with his slacking.� There was no denying
his aptitude for potions, though.� He was
a good guy, but Draco saw a little too much of his
younger self in his behavior to be entirely comfortable with him.

�� You�ll have to tell us how our
Irish pubs stack up to the real thing,� Ryan was saying.

�� I told you, I�m English,� Draco laughed.� �I
can only tell you about English pubs.�

�� It�s probably like cheesesteak,� Telly said.� �Nothing measures up to the real, original
thing.�

�� Probably,� Ryan nodded.

�� I haven�t had a cheesesteak
yet,� David said.

�� Neither has Draco,�
Ryan stated.

�� That�s crazy talk!� Telly said, doing a double take.� �This calls for a trip to Geno�s.�

�� Ugh.� Pat�s!� Ryan shot back.

�� They�re right across from each
other, let Draco and David choose when we get there,�
Ernesto said.

�� Or have them get one of each and
that way they can taste both,� Gabriel added diplomatically.

�� Pat�s,� Draco
said without hesitation.� He had no idea
what they were talking about, but Geno�s sounded
Italian and he�d had quite enough of all things Italian, what with this whole
damned Mafia business.

�� Much classier,� Ryan assured
him.� �You can�t see it from space.�

�� Don�t listen to him, he wouldn�t know
good advertising if it sucker-punched him in the jaw,� Telly
fired back.�

�� You people are so argumentative!�
Ernesto bitched.� He was right; Ryan and Telly often butted heads, always harmlessly.

�� You, sir, will boo anything,� Ryan
quipped in a strange voice.

�� If the dog show came to town, you�d
tailgate it,� Telly returned, laughing.� Everyone else just stared at them, utterly
confused.

�� Where are Henric
and Isamu?� David asked, transitioning the conversation.� �I bet they haven�t had a cheesesteak
either.�

�� They weren�t interested,� Telly shrugged.�
�They�re a little too into potions, if you ask me.�

�� That�s the pot calling the kettle
black, isn�t it?� Chelsea
briefly surfaced from her cell phone to interject.

�� You know you can�t talk on that
thing when we�re in the bar,� Ernesto said, a tad derisively.� Draco was glad that
he wasn�t the only one that was annoyed by her constant chatter.� At this rate, the girl was going to get a
tumor.�

�� Leave her alone, she misses her
boo,� Gabriel chastised.� �How would you
feel if you were separated from yours?�

�� I�m not.� My boo is right here.�

�� From there, everyone descended into
a conversation about the origin and meaning of the term �boo�, in the amorous
sense.� Draco had
never even heard the word until now; he tuned out.� At least his hypothesis that the two New
Yorkers were a couple had been accurate.�
He was starting to like Ernesto and Gabriel a bit more already; Ernesto
seemed as catty as a secondary school girl, and Gabriel was tactful enough to
smooth it over, with the end result being that they were terrifically sarcastic
together.� A Slytherin
that didn�t appreciate sarcasm was about as common as a selfish Hufflepuff.

�� They were at last arriving at the
bar.� Draco
looked up at it; it was large and painted with a bright mural.� He had noticed that there were a lot of
murals throughout the city.� It was a
nice touch in some areas that were otherwise not very nice to look at in the
least.� He was quickly discovering that Philadelphia was a city of
contrasts, but really, what city wasn�t?

�� Finnigan�s
Wake?� he read.� He knew the morbid Irish
folk song; it didn�t surprise him that they�d name a bar after it.� He wondered if his compatriots had any idea
of the origin, or if they thought it was just a clever name.

�� Next time it�ll be Fergie�s,� Ryan said.

�� No way.� Kildare�s!� Telly
refuted.

�� Moriarty�s.�

�� McGillin�s!�

�� What�s wrong with just the Irish
Pub?� Gabriel said, irritated.� �I
haven�t been to the one here, but it�s good in Atlantic City.�

�� It was moments like these that Draco felt like an alien from another planet.� They might as well be speaking Mandarin.� A glance at David assured him that he wasn�t
the only one that felt that way.� Even
though David was technically American, he was as far removed from his comfort
zone as Draco was.�
Maybe this was why Henric and Isamu had turned
down the invitation.

�� In front of them, the other four
were still arguing and listing Irish pubs, and Chelsea was five feet away cooing to her
future husband on the phone.� Did a city
really need that many Irish pubs?�
Apparently.� Sighing, Draco stepped past the bouncer with the realization that he
would probably be dragged to every single one before the year was out, and then
some.

��

�� That is my wife you�re talking
about,� Lucius growled at the two stunned men.� The offender was on his arse,
hand clapped over his bleeding mouth.

�� You must be mistaken,� the tall one
said, wand in hand.� �You don�t want a
quarrel with us, friend.�

�� Lucius
willed himself to breathe.� He hadn�t
been this angry in a long, long time.�
When he was sure that the next phrase to pass his lips would not be an
Unforgivable, he spoke.

�� No, friends, I think you will find that it is you who don�t want a
quarrel with me��

��

��

�� The feeling of culture shock hadn�t
abated.� Strange, considering this was
supposed to be an Irish pub.� However,
there wasn�t much about it that could pass for anything Draco
knew.� He had been warned that partying
in America was not like England;
the pubs didn�t close early and the dance floors weren�t usually separate.� However, he still wasn�t prepared for the
mass of people (it was Tuesday!) dancing up above.� Worse, everyone but him seemed to know the
words to nearly every song that came on; the crowd shouted lyrics in joyful
unity and some even pantomimed the story in the songs as they danced.� It made him feel terrifically out of place.

�� He�d even lost his ally, David, in
this, because apparently he liked to dance and was well up to date on current
American muggle music.� He couldn�t blame the Hawaiian; he currently
had a leggy, dark-skinned brunette practically wrapped around him.� The only partner in awkwardness that was left
was Chelsea,
and though she was close by, she was quite absorbed with texting
her far-away boyfriend.� Draco thought about texting
Hermione and was reaching for his phone when he realized that he�d left the
damn thing with her anyway.

�� He blew out a sigh.� The song had changed and some woman was now
singing about an umbrella.� The only
entertainment provided to him was watching Ernesto and Gabriel dance together.� It didn�t bother him to see two men grinding
the same way David was with the brunette.�
In spite of his rather biased upbringing, his family had always been
surprisingly accepting of various sexual preferences � although that came with
the unspoken knowledge that even if he had turned out to be gay, he would be
expected to marry and father at least one child to carry on the family
line.� Otherwise, who he screwed
(gender-wise) was up to him.� Hermione
often said that purebloods were an odd bunch, and in light of this seeming
contradiction, he supposed she was right.

�� Yes, his gay classmates were being
cheered on by the majority of the crowd, but there were some who made disgusted
faces at them or moved away.� Their
expressions made him surprisingly indignant.�
He barely knew Gabriel and Ernesto, yet this prejudice against them
sparked a certain irritation.� Close-minded gits,
he found himself thinking.� And then Draco smiled to himself.

�� He had these moments sometimes.� Moments where he observed discrimination at
work and felt anger churn in his gut.�
Then he�d realize that for most of his life, he�d been the other person
� the one doing the discriminating.� For
a few seconds he�d feel shame and guilt, but it always transformed into
gratefulness that he had been able to see the error of his ways and move past
such petty things.� Reactions like the
one he�d just had were good.� It meant
that he was a better person, one who could think for himself.

�� And, just like that, his anxiety
dissipated.� He suddenly felt
ridiculously happy and like everything was as it should be.� It wasn�t a sensation he experienced
often.� With a slightly dazed smile on
his face, he bought two more beers.� Then
he pressed one into a surprised Chelsea�s
hand and practically herded her onto the dance floor.� Once they�d rejoined their classmates, the
girl finally put away her phone, and Draco finally
put away the last of his reservations about the course his life was taking.� He would be absolutely kidding himself if he
didn�t think that a huge chunk of that serene happiness wasn�t firmly rooted in
the girl currently in possession of his
phone.

�� He was in love with Hermione
Granger.� And as far as he was concerned,
anyone who didn�t like it could go fuck themselves. ��

�� He hadn�t gotten much from the two
brainless wonders in the convenience store.�
They were low on the food chain and as such weren�t told anything of
consequence.� However, he had gotten a
little more information about Giacomo Cannavare.

�� Apparently, he was a consigliere of sorts.�
He had accepted the dubious role of healer to the Don nearly three
decades before, because his father owed a favor.� It had gone favorably for him and he had
rapidly advanced among the ranks.� He was
renowned for having a level head and a will of steel.� The two men spoke of him with awe, the kind
that said they�d never met Giacomo but knew that he
was one of the most trusted and held in high esteem among his peers.

�� Once Saturnino
Scattori passed, he had remained consigliere
to his sons.� Most disturbingly, Giacomo had played an important role in creating the rift
between the Scattori brothers.� He had supported the joining of the Mancini
and Scattori families and sided with Lorenzo during
negotiations with another crime family in Turin.� Even Lucius had to
admit that Cannavare�s judgment on the matter was
right.� Still, it gave Gaetano Scattori plenty of reason
to want to get back at him, and men of his (low) caliber tended to go for what
mattered most to a man � wife and family.�
He�d already proven it by going after his own brother.

�� That put Narcissa
in even more danger.� Though his two
unwilling confidantes had made it clear that Giacomo�s
activities with the mafia had dwindled in recent years due to the relative
peace, and that was probably why Lucius hadn�t been
able to find anything on him, he was still in very deep.� He�d given up healing and invested some of
his considerable income into various things, and was now a successful
businessman.� However, the two men told Lucius what he already knew; loyalty to the family was
paramount and when mob responsibilities reared their head, Giacomo
would respond first and foremost to them.

�� Lucius let
them go with little more than a warning.�
Once they had figured out who he was, they�d assured him that they were
in no way supportive of Gaetano Scattori
and didn�t believe that Lorenzo would harm his wife, and Lucius
was well-practiced at distinguishing a harmless lackey from the more dangerous
sort.� Nonetheless, Lucius
had had enough.� Poor Narcissa
had been through enough of this cloak and dagger shit with him; it might break
her heart, but she was not going to
marry into the same old thing again, if he had any say in it.� Giacomo was the
most benevolent kind of mobster, but no man who loved Narcissa
should be willing to put her in danger for his own ends.� He�d made that mistake once.

�� So, in the end, he did exactly what
he�d distantly considered in the first place.�
He stormed Giacomo Cannavare�s
house, thoroughly utilizing the element of surprise, and snatched Narcissa from right between Giacomo
and both Scattori
brothers.� So much for a rift.� So much for Giacomo�s
good judgment and Lorenzo not harming Narcissa.� So much for family loyalty�

�� But it didn�t matter now.� They were back in his flat, safe and
sound.� Nothing short of a meteor would
be able to break his wards.� Narcissa was in his arms.�
Overwhelmed with happiness at knowing she was out of harm�s way, he
lowered his lips to hers and kissed her.

�� She was trembling against him.� He had startled her as much as the men that
threatened her, but she didn�t pull away.�
Her lips moved softly beneath his and his hands moved to cup her finely
shaped jaw.� Merlin, he loved her.

�� Her tongue snuck out to play along
his upper lip.� He met her in kind and
was soon kissing her with fervor, his tongue reacquainting itself with the
warm, sweet space of her mouth.� At last
her arms wound around his torso and he felt his body ignite with want.� No.�
Not just want.� Passion.�
He was going to show Narcissa that he loved
her, that he would never harm her, that she was his, and he hers�

�� And everything was perfect, her
lips, her hands, her body, her touch�until he felt a small flare of pain in his
neck.� It was tiny, a quick bite that
faded in a second, but a fuzzy part of his mind knew it had been deliberate.� He forced himself out of the erotic haze and
took a step back from her.

�� She stood there, near the edge of
the bed, in the dark.� Her lips were red
and plump from being kissed.� The zipper
of her dress was undone and it hung too loose on her because of it, exposing a
kissable collar bone and the tantalizing shadow of cleavage.� In all ways she looked like a woman about to
fall into bed with the man she loved, except for her eyes.� They were cold.

�� Narcissa?�
he said softly.� His tongue felt clumsy
in his mouth.� Not a good sign.� He didn�t want to see this for what it really
was.� He�d stubbornly hold out hope that
it was something else�

�� But it wasn�t.� His entire body was going numb.� Lucius sunk to the
floor before he fell, knowing that if his legs went out from under him, he
could be seriously injured in the wake of gravity.� This way, he was already on the ground and
couldn�t crack his head on anything on the way down.� There was no use in making a bad situation
worse.

�� Narcissa
bent down next to him.� �It�s a muscle
relaxant,� she said.� �I knew you�d do
this, Lucius.�
I knew you�d try to reclaim me.�
You wouldn�t accept my choice to stay with Giacomo.�

�� Why?� He�s�no better,� he struggled to speak, aware
that he was slurring.� �I love you.�

�� Don�t patronize me.�

�� Not,� was all he could say.� It was getting harder and harder to form
words, or to move at all.� A steady anger-tinged
fear was growing inside him; this was going to leave him completely
incapacitated, except for his mind, and who knew how long he would lay there,
despondent, angry, and betrayed...and the one thing he had always been good at
was talking, convincing people to see
things his way, and right when he needed it, that talent was neutralized.�

�� You didn�t care enough when it
mattered.� And now that you can�t have
me, you suddenly love me?� I don�t think
so.�� There was a rustling sound and she
held a scrap of paper in front of him.�
He could no longer move his eyes; they were stuck in focus above her
head, so only by virtue of her holding the paper up could he read it.� A thousand questions exploded in his
head.� It was a marriage license.� And it had his name on it � his and
hers.� What the hell?

�� I took the liberty of having this
made up.� It�s an excellent forgery.� Now I�m going to fix my dress and take a
little trip to Gringotts.�

�� Fuck.� Fuck fuck fuck!� She would have
unfettered access to his vaults if the goblins believed she had remarried him.� He wouldn�t berate himself for not
anticipating this.� Narcissa
had her moments but she had never been malicious.� She wasn�t�this wasn�t right.� What
would drive her to act like this?� To
hurt him, to steal from him?� She didn�t
need the money; he�d given her enough in the divorce for the rest of her life.

�� Blackmail.� The Scattoris were
holding something over her.� She had to
do this.� There was some great
consequence if she didn�t.� That had to
be it.

�� I know what you�re thinking,� she
said suddenly.� �That Giacomo
must be forcing me to do this.� That it�s
some kind of blackmail.� I assure you, Lucius, this is entirely by my choice.�� She leaned in close, near enough to kiss
him.� �You make me sick,� she
whispered.� �I never want to see you
again.� I don�t want to have to prove it
to you any further, but I will if you push me.�
I don�t suggest you do that, Lucius, because I
know things about you that could land you right back in Azkaban.�

�� He wished he could speak, but wasn�t
entirely sure what he would say even if he could.� Her words hurt.� They hit him right in the gut, harder than
any punch ever would.� But more than her
words, her intent wounded him.� This had
been a set-up.� When he stormed that
house, the brothers and Giacomo were preparing her to
go to Adriatica Alley and meet him so she could do
this exact thing when he brought her back.�
All he had done was accelerate their schedule a bit.� He had been played like a fucking harp.

�� He couldn�t summon the proper
anger.� He didn�t feel stupid,
either.� If he couldn�t see this coming, then it was truly a plot of the
highest � and cruelest - caliber.� It
should have driven the tentative rehabilitation from him, crashed his walls
back down, but he wouldn�t let it.� He
had vowed never to revert to the man he�d once been, and not even this would
turn him back.� Though, that wasn�t to
say he wouldn�t seek to remedy the situation�

�� Narcissa
slid from his sight and he dimly registered her moving around the flat � he
could still hear � and he clamped down on his racing thoughts.� They would do him no good right now.�

�� It might have been two minutes or a
half hour, but finally he heard the door close.�
He was alone.� Paralyzed.� About to have the greater part of his fortune
stolen by the woman he�d recently fallen head over heels in love with a second
time.� All he could do was breathe � and
hope that the drug, whatever it was, wouldn�t affect the muscles that
accomplished that.

��

�� Draco was
a little bit drunk.� It felt good,
though.� Ryan had gone up to buy them
another round without realizing that he was out of cash, and much to his dismay
the ATM was broken.�

�� I�ve got it,� Draco
said, digging in his pocket for his wallet.�
He was out of cash, too, but had recently begun to understand the muggle obsession with their plastic substitutes.� It was easy to whip out a credit card, and it
wasn�t like there was any worry about him having to pay it back.� That had never been a problem for him,
fortunately.

�� You sure?�

�� He waved Ryan off and gave the order
to the bartender.� She lined up and
uncapped several beers and shouted a total he couldn�t quite make out at
him.� He handed her the card.� He was talking to Ryan, so he didn�t quite
register how she�d handed it off to someone else � a short, muscular,
auburn-haired man with freckles and hazel eyes.�
That is, he didn�t notice it until the man in question did a double take
at the card and then shouted at the top of his lungs,

�� MALFOY?!�

�� Draco
would have laughed at the way Ryan jumped and spilled his beer if he hadn�t
heard the note of consternation in the unidentified man�s voice.� He tensed and turned.� Then, more slowly than he would have if he
was sober, he said,

�� Finnigan?�

�� It was Seamus Finnigan,
all right.� He was a little older, with
the rugged, rascally stubble that most women loved, but no slower to anger than
he had been in school.�

�� What the hell are you doing in my
bar?�

�� Draco
blinked.� �Your bar?�

�� It�s called Finnigan�s Wake, or did that
escape you?� the redhead said acerbically.�
�My uncle Garrett is the owner.�

�� Then it�s not your bar.�

�� You�ve really lost your touch, Malfoy, if you�re insulting me with the obvious.�

�� It�s not a fair fight.� I�m drunk.�

�� Seamus stared at him.� Ryan, meanwhile, had just connected the dots.

�� You two know each other?�

�� Yeah, we went to school together,� Draco responded.

�� And weren�t we just the best of
pals,� Seamus retorted, his choler growing by the minute.� The tone in his voice jarred Draco out of his dreamy buzz.� There was nothing like the intrusion of a
spotty past to bring on relative sobriety.

�� Listen, Finnigan,
I�m here with friends and not for trouble.�
I have no quarrel with you.� Now
just let me pay for the stupid beer.�

�� Seamus shrugged and stalked away to
run the credit card.� Draco
could feel Ryan looking at him.� He blew
out a sigh.� He knew that exhilarating
feeling of happiness was short-lived.� It
always was.

�� It was strange whenever he ran into
people from Hogwarts.� Some forgave him
without a word, and others � well, he had been a right git
to Seamus more than once.� But the Irish
were quick to love, to hate, and (very) occasionally to forgive.� He could hope that the former Gryffindor�s better nature would win out.

�� When Seamus came back, there was a
baffled little smile on his face.� �Malfoy, I hate to have to be the one to tell you this,
because I�m sure it�ll embarrass the hell out of you, but your card isn�t
working.�

�� Draco
frowned.� �Are you sure?�

�� I ran it three times. �Insufficient funds.�� Finnigan�s lips
twisted slightly.� �Daddy cut you off?�

�� Draco
resisted the urge to impart some choice words upon him.� He deserved Seamus�s
jab.� He had to admit, though time had
done nothing for his temper, the redhead�s sarcasm had been honed to
near-perfection.

�� No,� he responded seriously.� Chelsea
had now approached, wondering what the hold up with her beer was.� �Chels, can I use
your phone?�

�� Who you calling?� she asked,
picking up one of the beers and sipping.

�� Hey, he hasn�t paid for that yet,�
Seamus said.

�� Don�t get your knickers in a twist,
Paddy,� Chelsea
replied, rather obnoxiously, and handed Seamus a twenty and Draco
the phone.� Draco
couldn�t resist a smirk.

�� Yeah, you�re a charmer, Malfoy, having women pay for your drinks,� Seamus grumbled.

�� You only wish you had my talent,�
he retorted as he dialed.

�� Well, maybe if I was looking to
hone my skills as a spoiled git, I�d be envious.�

�� You�re acting like a git right now,� Ryan said, barely stumbling over the unfamiliar
insult.� Both Draco
and Seamus�s necks rotated toward him. �The good-natured Philadelphian continued,
�Whatever beef you two had in school, it�s over.� You�re adults.� Act like it.��
It was mostly directed at Seamus.�
And just like that, Ryan took his beer and meandered away.

�� Silence ruled in the moment after
his departure, or as silent as it could be inside a pub twenty minutes before
closing time.� Draco
was spared the awkwardness of having to look at Finnigan
by the phone ringing.� He could see that Chelsea was still there,
her eyes skewering Seamus in a way that suddenly made him discover a lot more
respect for the terminally aloof girl.� It
felt good to have people in his corner.

�� The phone rang.� And then it went to voicemail.� Strange; his father nearly always picked up.� He wasn�t going to leave him a message
now.� It was too noisy and living without
a credit card for a day or two was no great hardship.

�� Weird,� he murmured, folding the
phone back up and handing it to Chelsea.� She tucked it into her pocket.

�� You boys going to finish your
pissing contest?�

�� I think Ryan won,� Draco said.� She
laughed, and surprisingly, so did Seamus.�
With that, Chelsea
took her beer and headed back toward the dance floor.� Draco picked up his
beverage and took a long sip.� When he
looked up, Seamus was rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

�� So what�re you doing here, anyway?�

�� A doctorate in potions with Finley
Greene.�

�� As many people did when they heard
that, Seamus grimaced.� �The people
you�re with�?�

�� Classmates.�

�� Hm.�� Seamus�s true words
went unspoken, but Draco could imagine what he was
thinking � he treated these classmates much better than some of the old
ones.� �You living in the city?� Seamus
continued.

�� Yeah.�

�� Do you like it?�

�� It�s�different.�

�� For the first time, a smile broke
across Seamus�s face.�
�You�ll get used to it.� It grows
on you.� Then you can�t shake it.�

�� Do you live here, now?�

�� Just for a little while.�� He picked up a glass and began to dry
it.� �I used to come and visit every
summer when I was in Hogwarts.� I decided
to reinstitute that policy after my engagement fell apart this spring, so here
I am.�

�� Sorry about--�

�� Don�t be.�� Seamus leaned over conspiratorially and said,
�You can�t imagine how much ass I get here, for the accent alone.�

�� Draco
snorted, but smiled.� �I�m flattered, Finnigan, but I�m afraid I�m already taken.�

�� Are you?�� He tilted his head.� �Cause it would work for you, too.� Like that blonde over there � you could say
anything to her, I bet.� Go tell her that
her face looks like it had a run in with surrealist painter on acid, and she�d
still make out with you because you�re English.�

�� And you call me charming,� he
chuckled.�

�� Seamus shrugged, unapologetic, and Draco had to admit that the girl he�d pointed to was
wearing about six pounds of poorly-done makeup.�
It made her look like a transvestite.�

�� So who�s the lucky lady?� the
redhead asked.

�� Draco
hesitated and wasn�t entirely sure why.�
Here went nothing.� After another
gulp of liquid courage, he said, �Hermione Granger.�

�� Come again?�

�� Hermione Granger.�

�� You�re shitting me!� Seamus
shouted.� �That rubbish in Witch Weekly
was true?�

�� It was Draco�s
turn to shrug.

�� No, you two hate each other!� I think Protestants
and Catholics might like each other more.�

�� Times change, and so do people.�� That was abundantly clear to Draco, especially now; Finnigan
had never struck him as the sharpest tool in the shed, but evidently he was
smarter and more worldly than people gave him credit for.

�� Well, bugger me,� Seamus said.� It seemed like a good summary.� The redhead shook his head in wonder.� �You should bring Hermione in sometime, I
haven�t seen her in ages.� I work
Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday.�

�� Draco
nodded.� He probably would, just to
surprise her.� �I guess I still owe you
for this beer.�

�� Nah, your pretty classmate got
you.� She single?�

�� He shook his head.� �She�s got a fianc� back in South Africa and she�s a bit
obsessed with him.�

�� That so?� Too bad. �I like women who can spit nails.�

�� Draco
wondered if he did, too, because Hermione certainly qualified.

�� See you around, Finnigan.�

�� Yeah,� the Irishman�s eyes were on Chelsea where she danced
sandwiched between Gabriel and Ernesto.�
�Around.�

��

�� Narcissa�s
ankle was throbbing fiercely.� It was
only too convenient; now, even if she did manage to escape their makeshift
holding cell (a large, empty pantry), she wouldn�t be able to make it out the
door without collapsing in pain.�
Whatever she had done to it, it was bad; it was swollen and bruised,
purpled all the way down to her toes, and hot to the touch.

�� She lifted her head when she heard
voices.� They were conversing in rapid
Italian.� Warily she teetered to her
feet, supporting her weight on her uninjured foot and leaning against the wall
to balance.

�� The door to the pantry opened.� She had to squint against the light it let
in.� There were two men dragging a woman
in between them.� She was dazed, but not
unconscious; she was also an exact
doppelganger for the woman already in the pantry.� Narcissa�s eyes
widened.� Suddenly, she had a very, very
bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

�� And the two men were not
leaving.� She didn�t recognize either of
them, but they had the look of thugs.�
Hesitantly, Narcissa hopped forward and eased
herself down to look at the mystery woman where they�d deposited her.� She was definitely Polyjuiced;
they�d probably gotten hair from her brush.�
This was not good.� Not good at
all.� Her mind couldn�t even begin to
generate all the wicked things someone could do posing as her.

�� This woman evidently hadn�t
satisfied with her impersonation, or else why would they dump her here?� The transformation was wearing off.� Her skin rippled as she began to change back
to her true identity.� Narcissa�s observation of the change was disrupted as a
third man cast a shadow over the narrow doorway.

�� She threw a hateful glare at
him.� It was Gaetano,
the one who had beaten and hexed Lucius within an
inch of his life and probably ordered the hit on Draco.� In spite of his assertion that it had been a
Mancini plot, she had yet to see proof of that.�
Until then, the Mancinis were innocent until
proven guilty.

�� Except, of course, the one who had
just materialized in front of her - for when she returned her eyes to the woman
on the floor, it was Rita Skeeter, nee Mancini.� Narcissa�s mouth
fell open.

�� Rita looked around once and
immediately shot to her feet, swaying dizzily.

�� Gaetano!� Gaetano, what are
you�?�

�� You�ve served your purpose, Rita.�

�� What are you saying?� I�m your wife!� You can�t do this to me!�

�� Gaetano
waved the other men out of the room, and without further ceremony, he slammed
the door.� Both women heard several locks
being fastened and wards being cast.

�� Narcissa
was pressed against the wall again, struggling to process it. �Rita Skeeter had
impersonated her.� It went without saying
that she hadn�t been doing anything good.�
Rage sparked in her, the likes of which hadn�t been felt or seen in a
long, long time.

�� You,� she said through her teeth,
�what have you done?�

�� Skeeter
turned to her, her face streaked with shocked tears.� Narcissa was
pleased to note that there was an appropriate amount of fear in her gaze, as
well.� The woman had just realized that
she was trapped in a small room with someone she had done serious and unprovoked
wrong to.

�� Ah, but she had underestimated the
woman�s rancor.� Rita�s face turned ugly
and she glowered at Narcissa.

�� Your dear, heroic ex-husband came
to rescue you.� He got me instead, but he
couldn�t tell the difference with the Polyjuice�and
he�s quite the lover, Ms. Black.�

�� That was it.� That was all she could take.� For once in her life, she would channel Bellatrix.� Just once.� Rita was not at all prepared for the other
blonde to lunge forward, or for the substantial impact of Narcissa�s
hand as she was thoroughly bitch-slapped.

�� If you touched my husband, you heinous bitch, I will kill you!�

�� Ex-husband,
honey, you gave that up!� Rita shot back, grabbing for Narcissa�s
hair.� Narcissa
managed to evade her, well-versed in that move from interactions with her
sisters.

�� YOU,� Narcissa
shouted, �are an evil whore who thrives on other people�s misery!�

�� And you�re an inbred twat!�

�� I swear to Merlin, if any harm
comes to Lucius or my son, you will regret ever being
born,� she vowed darkly.

�� What are you going to do, choke me
with your ugly designer dress?� Skeeter taunted.

�� If it comes to that,� Narcissa snarled.�
And she was one hundred percent serious.�
In fact, it was time to give the other woman a scare.� Narcissa undid the
sash that cinched the waist of her dress and wrapped the ends around her
fists.�

�� Want to play, Rita?� ��

Author�s Note 2:�
Okay, this is going to be a long one.�
1) Finnigan�s Wake is a real place in Philadelphia.� Of course everything about Seamus�s relation to it is purely my imagination at work.� 2) The joke between Ryan and Telly is based on one of the Bud Light �Real Men of Genius�
commercials � the Ultimate Philadelphia Sports Fan.� If you�re in the mood for a laugh, youtube it.� You
might not get it, though, if you�re unfamiliar with the city and its, er, reputation.� 3)
Pat�s and Geno�s are the center of a cheesesteak debate � as in, which one has the best steak in
Philly.� I�ll keep mum on my
preference.� 4) Are there no fanfic readers in Philly?�
I can�t believe that.� Represent,
people!� �4) Lucius was dosed with
a muscle relaxant, specifically a neuromuscular blocker; what this does (in layman�s
terms) is paralyze the muscles so that the person can�t move. �However, they�re still cognitively aware and able
to feel pain and other sensations. �These
kinds of drugs are used often in surgery (along with anesthesia) to ensure minimal
complications.� They can affect the diaphragm,
so people who are given these drugs usually get put on ventilation to be
safe.� 5) Does anyone need a lengthy
explanation of mafia hierarchy?� 6) All
(or most) questions will be answered or at the very least clarified in the next
chapter, which is already under way. �7)
I had way too much fun writing the cat fight � and it isn�t over yet.
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