Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Empire	By : waymay & Alcoholic_Rootbeer Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 12288 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the characters written in this story; everything belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling. I don't make any profit from these stories!

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
A/N: Hi everyone! Thank you for the awesome reviews! It's always so exciting reading what you guys have to write, and it makes me feel so warm and fuzzy inside when you guys say it's funny 'cause I try to make it funny!
Hopefully, Empire will always make your day just a little bit better when you read it. :)
Also, I think at one point, Mr. Benzedrine mentioned I was doing a one-shot. It's a work in progress, and I'm not sure if it'll be a one-shot anymore. LOL I ended up investing a lot of thought and feels into it. It's still up in the air!
A shout out (as usual!) to Mr. Benzedrine for proofing and laughing throughout this chapter. Also, be sure to check out her one shot, A Touch of Bourbon! It's super, super hot to the point where I forgot I was proofing it. XD
Chapter 6
Business Etiquette
The next week, Hermione kept herself occupied, focusing mostly on writing and proofing documents for the joke shoppe. She kept her head constantly buried in books and paper; the scribbling of the quill and muffled laughter from customers were her only source of music.
She made a note, reminding herself each day before stepping into her office, to get as much work done, even if it meant to skip lunch. Hermione wanted to finish the day's work as quickly as possible to avoid anymore confrontation with Ron, who was still in a foul mood. George, on the other hand, was enjoying his new (lack thereof) hairdo, switching between crazy hats and silly wigs.
For the first several days after the balding potion incident, Ron skipped work. When Hermione inquired about it, George merely shrugged and said he was pouting away at the Burrow, drinking himself to a stupor. Molly would continuously yell at him, telling him to grow up: he wasn't a child anymore and to take responsibility. (George scoffed, "Ron and responsibility shouldn't be used in the same sentence.") Ginny would often find it entertaining, and egged on her brother, drinking alongside him when she wasn't spending time with Harry. She had her own reasons to drink.
"Honestly, though," the older Weasley started as he fumbled around with a toy (which looked way too much like Peeves), in attempts to fix it. "Ron needed a reality check. His head is always so far up his arse, he really needed someone to give him a ol' smack in the face. You did good, 'Mione." He gave her a pat on the back, reassuring her. "Don't ever feel back for Ron. Ah, shite! " The toy whizzed to life, laughing maniacally before spitting in his face and flying off into the crowd of customers.
Oh, and speaking of Harry, he managed to find time to visit her in the middle of the week. Of course, he was always too busy to hang out with her whenever she wanted, but when Ron was playing the drama queen role, Harry suddenly had all the time in the world.
A knock on the door sounded, and, with a wave of her hand, she unlocked the door. "'Mione," Harry greeted the busy witch.
She immediately tore away from her work to focus on her best friend. "Harry!" she squealed, a smile plastered on her face. It'd been quite too long since she's last seen him. "It's been a while!"
After their travels and upon their return home, Harry was recruited by Kingsley Shacklebolt and became an Auror. His work was tedious and often time consuming. When he wasn't away hunting down evil villains and maintaining peace, he was busy assisting his fiancée in planning their wedding.
"How goes things with you?" Hermione asked, pulling away from their brief hug, "or rather, how goes the wedding planning?" She gestured towards the empty seat sitting in front of her desk and plopped down onto hers.
"Don't get me started," Harry groaned as he slumped into the cushioned armchair. "Do all women get this crazy when it comes to weddings?" A chuckle came from the witch as she conjured some water. "It's, like, Ginny isn't even Ginny, anymore. Like some witch just possessed her into a crazy...bridezilla."
"Oh!" She snorted, spitting out her water, "Please, for all our sake, don't call Ginny that."
The wizard ruffled his already messy hair, his scar showing ever so briefly. "She keeps asking which linen we should pick or which cake should we get -or what kind of flowers! What do I know about flowers. But when I give her my two knuts, then she yells at me and tells me I'm wrong!" Exasperated, Harry threw his hand up in the air. "It's like I don't even have any say in this wedding."
"Well, you don't."
An almost desperate laugh escaped him but was quickly ended as he realized Hermione wasn't joking. "Right," he changed the subject and cleared his throat, "Ron's been upset."
"Yes, I am aware," Hermione drawled, suddenly aware of his reasons for showing up to her work.
"Maybe you should apologize, 'Mione."
She glared at the Auror from across the table, frowning. "Or maybe not." While Hermione was, typically, the more reasonable one of the three, she planned to stand firm on the issue. Ron wronged her more than she's ever wronged him, and for some reason unknown, he always -just somehow- always got his way. If he was going to act like a child, then so be it. She'd play his game.
"Don't stoop to his level." Harry sighed, slumping his shoulders. Both his best friends were stubborn and hardheaded.
"Don't you dare lower me to his level," she snapped back immediately.
"You two are best friends, 'Mione. You can't stay mad at each other forever, and you know Ron. He's never going to see the other side of things unless you talk to him first."
Hermione rolled her eyes and picked her quill up- a hint to Harry she was through with the conversation. "Just... give me a few more days. It's been so peaceful here without him." He looked at her, suspicious, and she quickly added on, "and then I'll go talk to him!"
A smile found its way onto Harry's face. "Thank you. You're always the best, 'Mione."
Draco found himself looking out the window pretty often. He didn't want to admit it, but he kind of missed the crazy witch's presence. She said she would owl him, but it'd been near a week, and not a single word had been exchanged.
Seriously, what would be keeping her so busy at the joke shoppe? What could possibly be more important than helping him out right now? At this very moment?
He was so tempted to send her an owl, or even a howler, demanding her attendance. But, would that be too desperate? He reached out to her last time, and now, it was her turn to send the correspondence first. Yes. He was going to be playing this kind of childish game with her.
Surprisingly, much of his time was spent debating with himself whether or not he should message Granger, and the remainder of his free days were spent in an attempt to rekindle things with a long time friend, Blaise Zabini.
It'd been years since Draco last spoke to the man, not since before the War ended.
While the Zabini household upheld the long standing belief that purebloods were far superior to half- or mudbloods, didn't choose sides during the war and remained neutral. They were supremacists; Blaise would always remind Draco when he found out about his Dark Mark, not murdering low lives.
After the Dark Mark was forced onto him, things between Blaise and Draco changed. As time passed, they hung out less and less, and eventually, his friend fell from the face of the Earth. It wasn't by choice, Blaise knew Draco's true nature, but was distant due to the influence of his mother, Vernonia Zabini.
She abhorred Death Eaters, looking down on them as 'no good attention grabbers.' It didn't matter to her whether she'd known Draco for a year or ten. As soon as Lucius Malfoy was outed for being a follower of the Dark Lord, all communication was cut from the Zabini household. Even hanging out at Hogwarts was limited.
Getting back in touch with Blaise wasn't going to be an easy stint. Draco would have to get through to Vernonia before he could reach out to the younger Zabini.
*(*)*(*)*(*)*
The first day Draco showed up to the Zabini manor, he carried a small bouquet of river vernonia flowers. With a deep breath, he knocked on the door. A moment passed before the door opened, and a wrinkly old house elf squeaked, "Master Malfoy, how may I help you?"
"Wonkey-" He glanced down, "I'd like to speak with Vernonia, please."
The house elf bowed and closed the door. From the other side, a loud pop! could be heard as the elf, presumably, Disapparated to find his master.
A minute later, the door opened once more and out came a beautiful witch. For a moment, Draco forgot how to breathe. While he'd seen her plenty of times as a child, playing in the manor, he always forgot how alluring the woman was. Despite her age, her appearance was youthful; if she wasn't famous for her good looks, she would have, easily, been mistaken for someone in their late twenties. But, she carried an air of wisdom about her; it showed in her dark eyes as she stared at the blonde before her. Her mouth, supple and small, were pursed, unhappy at the unexpected visitor.
Draco, visibly, gulped. He knew her opinion of him. She made it very clear his fifth year at Hogwarts during a Hogsmeade visit, and since then, he tried to avoid the woman as much as possible. But, he really needed Blaise. It was worth the confrontation. He cleared his throat, holding the bouquet of flowers out to her. "Missus Zabini," he started, his voice cracking ever so slightly, nervous. "I, uh, I brought you some river vernonias."
She stood still as she stared down at the white flowers.
"Because your, uh, name is a flower." As if it wasn't obvious enough.
"How charming," Vernonia drawled. "Are you going to a funeral?" Her arms remained folded across her chest, unentertained.
There weren't many people who made Draco nervous, but if there was a list, Vernonia Zabini would be near the top. Her look of disapproval screamed at the blonde as her stared down at him. The witch wasn't physically taller than him, but her presence was so foreboding, it made him feel smaller.
"No, they're for you?" He furrowed his brows, obviously missing her sarcastic tone.
With a sigh, she snatched the bouquet from him. "What do you want, Malfoy?" She pronounced his name with the utmost disgust.
"I'd like to see your son." Merlin, it sounded like Draco was trying to court Blaise. He should have worded it better.
She arched a single brow. "You'll have to do much better than...this." She lightly shook the bouquet of flowers, gesturing to it, and dropped them onto the ground, unwanted. "Have a good evening." Vernonia gave Draco a brief curtsy before walking back into her home, slamming the door on the dumbfounded wizard.
*(*)*(*)*(*)*
Maybe it was because she feigned disinterest towards her potential suitors that had them crawling to her at her beck and call. It really felt as if he was trying to court the Zabinis.
He stood in front of the Zabini manor for the second day in a row. Never in his life had he ever had to try so hard to get approval to see and hang out with another twenty-one year old man. What in the world was Blaise doing anyway? Couldn't he decide for himself whether he wanted to see Draco or not?
The blonde huffed and puffed, pacing from side to side as he tried to recount his plan.
At some point during the evening last night, he remembered Blaise mentioning once or twice that his mother was quite the wine connoisseur, even earning herself a prestigious title of a sommelier. Nothing less for a Zabini, of course.
He knocked on the door and, once more, Wonkey opened the door. "Master Malfoy," he bowed, "how may I serve you tod-"
"-Vernonia."
Another bow. Another pop! sounded behind the closing door.
She appeared once more, an obviously annoyed look on her face. "Malfoy," she greeted him with a monotone voice.
"Missus Zabini," Draco bowed. Why did he bow? He didn't need to bow, this wasn't some Yule Ball dance. "Today, I brought you a basket of England's finest wine from Camel Valley."
Interested, Vernonia accepted the basket, and pulled a bottle out, inspecting it with care. Silence fell between the two as relief nearly washed over Draco. Perhaps this is where she'll be welcoming him with open arms, accepting him, once more, as one of Blaise's best friends.
"Well, it seems you know what good wine is, but-" she placed the bottle back into the basket, "-I can't drink this wine. It's dated from the nineteen seventies." The witch nearly snorted at the comment, "wine, if stored properly, can last a few years and still taste beautifully, but a bottle from thirty years back will be sour, impossible."
"At least you can have this sitting on your collection," Draco remained hopeful. "It was a rare find."
The woman agreed, "A rare find, yes. What would have been rarer was if you found the crowned wine from the same year. It was named best wine of its time." She handed the basket to Wonkey, who stood behind her. "Do your research before you come over next time?"
Once again, a rejected Draco was found standing in front of the Zabini manor. He groaned, throwing his head back, his hand palming his face, "I have some nice cheese, too."
*(*)*(*)*(*)*
Many would have already given up their attempt to woo the woman, but Draco was determined. Not only because he needed Blaise, a man who he trust, but because he (secretly) missed the guy.
Exhausted, he stood in front of the Zabini manor, again, hoping the third time would be the charm. He lifted a tired hand to knock on the door, but before he had the opportunity, the door swung open, and she was there, staring down at him with disapproving looks, making him feel small once more.
"Missus Zabini," he greeted, bowing. Damn it, he really needed to stop doing that, otherwise it was going to become a nervous habit.
"To what do I owe this...pleasure?"
"I thought a lot about what you said yesterday, and today, you won't be turning me down." He smirked, gaining back his Malfoy confidence. Draco waited for a response, but she merely waited. Don't keep a woman waiting too long, now. "I managed to get a reservation at tonight's, conveniently timed, wine tasting event at the Singing Serpent."
There it was: her interest was piqued.
"I would certainly love a wine connoisseur-"
"-Sommelier," she corrected.
"Sommelier, as yourself to be my plus one for the evening."
Vernonia was, definitely, curious. "what kind of wine?"
"Some notable wines range from Pernod Ricard to Treasury Wine Estates."
She gasped, "Pernod Ricard?" Blush forming on her cheeks.
Jackpot.
Her demeanor changed completely as she invited him into the manor. "I need to powder my nose, and we will head out." She moved with haste, almost flying upstairs towards her quarters.
Draco was left standing in the middle of the entryway foyer. Vernonia always had great taste in industrial design, purchasing only from the best brands. The manor, much like how he remembered as a child, was decorated in minimalism. Artwork from famous wizards, such as Picasso and Monet, hung on the walls. He stared at a cubism self-portrait, and the eyes blinked out of sync. Ugh, they always creeped him out. Draco couldn't understand the value in weird looking art, but to each their own, probably.
"Let's go now."
His attention diverted back towards the older witch as she glided down the steps. She dressed in her best gown, her hair elegantly braided, and subtle makeup painted on her face. Of course, Vernonia had to look her best whenever she head out, perhaps even more so with a tainted wizard such as a Malfoy. Or maybe she was single and was on the prowl again. Draco shooed away the thoughts as she approached and held out an arm towards the witch. "Shall we?"
They Disapparated from the manor and Apparated in front of the famous Singing Serpent. Surrounding them, were other witches and wizards of the socialite community. Many of them ignored Draco. While he was still shunned in their community, they were used to his presence as he, often, attended events such as these. Occasions, like these, were much more difficult for Draco to get in. It used to be that he was at the top of the list, but these days, he waited for days and sometimes even bribery didn't work. Luckily for him, though, Millicent Bulstrode was the head chef of the restaurant.
"Welcome Mister Malfoy, Missus Zabini -if you'll please follow me, I will take you to your table."
The next few hours were filled with Draco and Vernonia talking about wine. He mostly listened, while consuming a generous amount of red wine, as the witch explained how different wine were made differently, how one grape's flavor could vary depending on the state it was harvested and the weather that year. For Draco, it went in one ear and out the other.
"Oh, oh, there is he- Pernon Ricard!" The older woman almost jumped in glee as the famous winemaker made his rounds at the table. "Draco, be a dear and give your seat to him, why don't you?" She eyed the blonde as Ricard approached their table. Draco nearly protested, but she interjected, "Why don't you go back home and see if Blaise is there?"
"Really?" His eyes widened. He could kiss her!
*(*)*(*)*(*)*
"Well, well, if it isn't the infamous Malfoy," Blaise stood in front of the grand stairs as Draco Apparated back into the Zabini manor. A smirk sat plastered on the half-Italian man's face as he was finally able to reunite with his friend.
"It has been quite some time, Blaise." The two of them briefly shook hands. "Or should I be calling you Zabini, now?"
They moved into his bedroom, Blaise sitting on his bed as Draco made himself comfortable on a beanbag. He scanned the room, save for a few things, nothing much changed. The room was adorned with Slytherin memorabilia, proud he was sorted into the house despite the unfortunate history it now beared.
"How were you able to convince Mother to let us hang out again?" Blaise pulled a Quaffle from under his bed, juggling it in his hands for a moment before tossing it over towards Draco.
The blonde smirked, catching the ball with one hand, feeling the familiar feel of its leather. "Took her out on a date."
"What?" The Italian looked taken aback at the comment.
"The only way to get a woman to do what you want is to woo her first," Draco gave his own friend his signature smirk, tossing the ball back.
Blaise blanched, smacking the ball onto the ground. "That-You didn't!" He jumped off his bed, staring at the comfortable blonde lounging on his beanbag chair. "That-" He didn't even know how to begin his sentence, "that's my mum!" He reached for the Quaffle once more and chucked it at Draco as he burst out in a belly-aching laugh: something he hadn't done in years.
In almost an instant, the two of them fell back into a groove, like any old friends would, as if no time had passed between them at all.
"So," Draco started, spinning the Quaffle on his pointer finger. Blaise threw wads of paper at his friend, trying to knock the ball off balance. "I need your help."
The Italian rolled his eyes. "Of course, you do. Your name wouldn't be Malfoy if you didn't come here without reason." While his statement seemed harsh, a faint smile was still written on his face, secretly happy. After all these years, Blaise was still the one Draco would seek out in his time of need. "What's it?"
Elated at his willingness to help, despite the years of silence, Draco jumped right in, "So... here's the plan."
Tonight was girls' night.
Hermione convinced her two closest girl friends to head over to her apartment for some wine and girltime. During her talk with Harry, she may or may not have let slip she'd been hanging out with Luna and Ginny during her free time, instead of giving the honest answer which would have had Harry interrogate Hermione to no end.
Before the girls showed, Hermione managed some swift cleaning. Her home was never messy, but it could never be too clean for guests. A few waves of her wand, and everything was spotless. A nod of approval came from her as she made way to the kitchen, pulling out a newly purchased red wine from the cabinet. She glanced at the bottle, reminding of her drunken incident at Malfoy's a week ago. Though, she did swear off alcohol, wine was something she was a bit more accustomed to.
When she was younger, while spending the holiday's at her parents, she was, on occasion, allowed to take a few sips of wine here and there. It was her father's idea; perhaps the bitter taste of the alcohol would deter her from any underaged drinking, preventing any sort of 'teen pregnancy.' Her mother would always reprimand him for thinking of Hermione as a sort of potential harlot, but then again, he did always go to the extremes.
Hermione pulled out three bordeaux glasses, setting them on top of the counter when her fireplace roared to life. Luna was the first to step through, and she greeted Hermione with an airy smile and a high-five, something she recently learned while watching something called tellyvizzin. "Dean Thomas showed it to me," she said. "We've been dating for the past two months."
"What?" Hermione blinked, shocked at the news. "Does Ginny know?"
"Know what?" The redhead asked, stepping through the Floo, brushing off any powder that stuck to her clothes.
"Dean and I are dating," Luna stated as a matter-of-factly.
"Oh," Ginny laughed. "I set them up. Don't worry." She handed Hermione a container of Molly's best cooking. Her mouth watered, remembering she'd forgotten to eat lunch today. "Have at it, Hermione. They're delicious. Do you want any, Luna?"
"Oh, no, thank you." She looked around the apartment though she's been invited over several times. "Father told me, if I eat past ten o'clock, the nargles will come out with steal my teeth, and I quite like them."
Hermione snorted at the comment. Luna never failed to keep them entertained with her imaginary creatures, though, she did have to hand it to Luna for discovering new beasts. After the war, Luna spent some time traveling in search of the crumple-horned snorkack, determined to prove their existence. Though her search for them turned empty, she didn't return home without newly documented creatures.
As they gathered around the dining table, the girls picked up their conversation from Luna's dating life with Dean Thomas, ("He's a wonderful kisser," she smiled dreamily, recounting their first kiss to the other two in detail.) to Ginny's wedding planning.
"It's not that difficult!" She frowned, her pointer finger poking at the wooden table. "Harry complains about the colors looking the same, but they're quite different! And when I told him to pick the best color -I hinted at the one I like - he still picked the wrong one!" She huffed, irked at her fiancé's lack of ability to choose proper colors. "He can't get a damn thing right!" Ginny paused, looking over towards the brunette as she took a sip of her alcohol. She'd been pretty quiet the entire evening. "So, Hermione-"
Hermione froze. Oh, no. The look on Ginny's face said everything. She wanted to know what was going on in her life, and Hermione was the worst when it came to lying. "I've been working," she'd say while taking long sips of her wine, hoping it would buy her enough time to think of something to change the subject. Oh, but now Ginny was giving her that look. Hermione groaned, slumping further into her seat as she cradled her wine glass. "I've been helping Malfoy with his business issues."
Even Luna looked surprised at her confession.
"I-" Hermione pouted. She didn't want to tell them, at least not now, not when everything was still up in the air. They haven't even really worked on anything, yet. "I just...I just wanted to work with someone as an equal."
"You think Malfoy would be someone to see you as an equal?"
"He's not..." she started, unsure how to answer Ginny's question. "He's different, Ginny. The Malfoy I've seen, he's... so broken, not like the Malfoy we knew back at Hogwarts. Life... has been so difficult." She chewed at the lip of the wine glass, carefully thinking about her answer. "And when I came to him with a possibility of starting over. Oh, Ginny, you should have seen it. He was so excited." She stole a glance over towards her friend, who grinned widely. "Don't ... Don't look at me like that!" Hermione's cheeks quickly reddened, surely from the alcohol.
"Malfoy has never been my favorite," the redhead confessed. "But he is pretty good looking, isn't he?"
"I'm not doing it for the looks, Ginny!"
"But you do admit he's good looking?" She cooed, describing Malfoy. "Have you ever just... stared into those piercing grey eyes of his? Oh... and those luscious blonde locks. I bet they're so soft. Merlin, I wish I could run my fingers through the, just once!" Her cheeks grew red, too. "Do you think Harry would care?"
"Yes!" Hermione laughed, gasping for air. "Merlin, Ginny! If you're going to think about another man, perhaps you should put a pause on your wedding."
The younger witch smirked. "I still love Harry very much, but a night of frivolity would be exciting! Before I settle down?" She clasped her hands together, excited at the thought, though she would never actually go through with it.
"You reignited fire in the man who's lost all hope in the world," Luna spoke softly, late to the conversation as she peered into the kitchen. "Do you know you have weetimorousbeasties wandering around in your house? How is your sex life?"
"Thank you so much for inviting me out, Mister Malfoy."
"Please, Bogrod. Mister Malfoy is my father. Draco will do." He was back at the Singing Serpent restaurant, though this time it was devoid of people save for him and two others.
When the doors opened, Draco and Bogrod Madoff stepped through. Blaise was on the other side, playing waiter, and he wasn't happy about his role. While informing Blaise of his plans, Draco, even purposefully (for his sake) left out the bit of information about taking his mother to the restaurant, and possibly even facilitated in finding him a new step-father. How many would it make now? Twelve? The woman was a snake!
"If you'll please follow me," Blaise drawled. A man of his stature should not be playing waiter. It was way below his pay grade. He led the two men to their table, right in the middle of the restaurant.
"This restaurant is amazing!" Madoff looked around, impressed, as he took his seat. "How did you manage to book the entire restaurant?"
Draco smirked, "How else?"
The older man looked at Draco with an immediate understanding. Well, of course he could book the restaurant, he was a Malfoy, after all. But in actuality, he pawned Blaise off to Mellicent for a date and maybe a little more. Of course, that tidbit was, also, withheld from Blaise.
Madoff glanced at the menu, his eyes scanning the numbers quickly.
"Choose anything to your desire," Draco offered.
"That is mighty generous of you, Draco," the man set the menu down, motioning to the waiter.
Through clenched jaws, Blaise complied. "What can I get for you tonight, sirs?"
Madoff ordered first. "I'd like the grilled blue lobster with greek vegetables." Of course he would order the most expensive dish on the menu.
"I've... actually been thinking about him more." Hermione confessed, now on her fourth glass of wine. The girls have long since moved from the dining room to the living room, lounging comfortably on her couch. "I don't know what it is. Fifteen year old me would be terrified to know I'm thinking these thoughts." She muttered into her glass, blowing condensation onto the glass.
Luna smiled. "You are like two characters in a book. You, a princess, loved and cherished by all, and the other, a man who was mistaken as evil and wronged by society but has a heart of gold. You two shouldn't be together; society would never allow it, but the readers will ship you two together, forever."
"What ship?" Ginny pipped up, confused.
"It was a wonderful meal, Draco. Thank you." Madoff expressed his gratitude while dabbing his oily lips.
"Certainly," Draco started, setting his utensils onto the table. Regardless of circumstances, he was always raised to be prim and proper, especially at the table. "Though, before we part ways for the evening, I'd love to know how our finances are doing right now." He glanced up at the man, who nearly choked on his water.
Madoff cleared his throat, thumping his fist with his chest. "Yes, yes. It's going well."
"Oh?" He tilted his head, briefly looking over at a bored Blaise before shifting his attention back onto the man. "Please, do elaborate."
"Well, ahem. Excuse me." The older man stalled, biding time. "It is a shame some of the businesses are closing, but all of our purchases are in order. You've seen the prototypes-"
"Yes, well, I've had someone else tell me otherwise." Draco stared as the wizard sitting before him grew more and more nervous by the minute. Silence filled the room for a brief moment before the blonde snapped his fingers. Blaise, very loudly, grunted as a response, walked over and handed him a thick stack of paper. "I actually had a long discussion with them. They told me everything is out of order. From purchasing to manufacturing to production."
The man appeared baffled. "That's nonsense!" He dabbed at his face with the napkin. How odd. He looked very much like Burbage the day he announced he didn't want to be Draco's partner anymore. Another fat, sweaty pig. Perhaps there was a trend going on. "The numbers that, that someone looked up must be wrong! I'll even do the math for you! Who are you going to belie-"
Draco held a hand up, silencing Madoff from speaking anymore. "Where's the money, Madoff?" His voice was cold, terrifying. Draco's stare remained unwavering, unnerving the blubbering man.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Madoff shook his head. The fat of his neck jiggling side to side as he continued to deny everything. "I don't know what money you're talking about. I haven't stolen anything from you!"
"Stolen?" He glanced over towards Blaise, a smile written across his lips. "I never said anything about stolen money. But I do have to thank you now, I guess, for confirming my suspicions." Draco leaned forward, "Where is the money- and you know what? Go ahead and tell me who you're working for, too."
"You're being ridiculous, Draco."
A sigh escaped his lips. Draco dabbed his lips with his napkin, folding and setting it onto the plate. He stood up slowly, his eyes never leaving Madoff's. "One. Last. Chance." His spoke slowly, his voice coming out almost sing songy. When nothing other than more stutter came out from his fat lips, Draco gripped the edge of the table, and with one swift motion, flipped it to the side, sending expensive china and glasses shattering onto the ground.
Blaise, standing directly behind Draco, rolled his eyes. He was enjoying it too much, playing bully. Granted, it'd probably been awhile since Draco has been a part of any action.
And it wasn't so much as Draco losing his temper as it was his way at power play. It was silly and potentially expensive if it didn't work, but it was worth the try. He wasn't going to sit on his ass anymore, twiddling his thumb, waiting for things to magically fix itself.
With one quick stride, Draco stepped towards the still-sitting man and grabbed his collar by the fistfull, yanking him straight up from his seat. Madoff's short, stubby legs dangled in mid-air. He flailed in an attempt to struggle free. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed Madoff's attempt at pulling out his wand to counter Draco's threats, but Blaise was quicker, yanking the weapon from the man's pudgy fingers.
"What are friends for?" The Italian twirled the wand around his lengthy fingers. It's, exactly, what Draco wanted him here for, a failsafe if nothing else. His mood, finally, lifted as he was able to participate in what little action there was.
"I could Avada you right here, right now," Draco seethed between his teeth as he pulled out his wand, pointing it into the man. "Tell me, or you can kiss your family goodbye."
The man guffawed; his desperate attempt at a laugh as he struggled to say, "If you kill me now, you'll be seeing yourself in Azkaban."
"My family is gone," Draco hissed, his voice dangerously quiet now. "Most of my friends are also locked away, suffering the Dementor's Kiss at this very moment. The ones that are free don't talk to me anymore. My businesses are failing. My life is suffering-so spending me off to Azkaban would be a sweet, sweet relief from this miserable hell that's my life." He pushed his wand into the man, hoping to secure the threat.
"Okay! Okay, okay," Madoff wheezed, hyperventilating as soon as he felt the wand touch his neck. Draco dropped him, and the man fell into the floor, his knees too weak to support his heavy proportions. "I've been taking the money, but I don't even keep most of the share." Draco rolled his eyes as Madoff tried to make himself to be the victim. "The majority of the money goes to an unknown accomplice. They actually reached out to me, and they told me to steal as much money, that would go unnoticed, as possible from the Malfoy funds and transfer it to an account in United States." He swiped at his forehead as word vomited out of his mouth. "And once a month, they'll send me a letter, telling me where to find the port key. It takes me to the States and there, I transfer the money. I've never met the man!"
"Why would you agree to it in the first place?" Draco glanced over towards Blaise, who also listened with interest.
Madoff hesitated once more, and Draco pointed his wand between his eyes.
"I was an investor for an up and coming club, but I was tricked into having an affair. They ended up getting photographic evidence of me fooling around with him-" Draco's eyebrows shot up. "And they threatened to send the photos to my wife and children!"
"Classic blackmail," Blaise chuckled.
"Right, then," Draco tucked his wand securely back into his pockets. "You have everything recorded?" He turned to his friend who answered with a nod. "You'll be paying for everything there tonight. Mmmm..." He pinched his chin between his fingers, rubbing his thumb against his short stubbles as he failed to shave that morning, "From booking out the restaurant to the damn expensive food you ordered, and oh- yes, for the damages, too." He grabbed a plated from another table and dropped it onto the ground.
The two younger men turned to leave the restaurant, satiated. But before they were able to step outside, Madoff, much to his dismay, squeaked out, "Why?"
Draco turned, squinting his eyes at the man, "Well, my dear Madoff, I'm broke as fuck."
A/N: White flowers are usually distributed during funerals, which is why Vernonia asked if he was going to a funeral. :)
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