Summary: Six years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy is recruited by a sinister organization called the Confederacy, which is bent on destroying Muggle-borns all over Britain.
But Draco turns traitor and becomes a double agent for the Ministry. Can he and handler Astoria Greengrass stop the Confederacy before they wreak havoc on the Wizarding World?
Categories: General Fics Characters: None
Warnings: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Mild Profanity, Violence
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 3
Completed: No
Word count: 8998
Read: 8170
Published: 07/01/09
Updated: 07/27/10
Story Notes:
This is the plot bunny that wouldn't die! I hope the result is entertaining! There will be a slight AU element that contradicts something JKR has said. Please leave a review if you have something to say!
Click Here: to see the gorgeous banner that James Jameson made for the story.
1. The Deal by OHara
2. The Robbery by OHara
3. The Arrest by OHara
Author's Notes:
Here's the first installment! Chapter Two should be posted fairly shortly!
Draco had been sitting in the dimly lit little Ministry room for well over an hour and he was getting annoyed. He drummed his fingers on the long table and leaned back in his chair. Potter could play all the games he wanted, but he would not get the satisfaction of seeing Draco visibly frustrated.
He still didn’t really know why he was here. Almost all of him had been advising against it, but the dissenting faction far back in his brain had won out for some reason.
The door swung open at long last. Harry Potter and a dark-haired young woman Draco didn’t know walked in.
Potter looked almost exactly as he had in school, even six years later. He was in the Prophet almost daily now. Whenever his smug visage showed up on the front page, Draco would throw the paper into the bin. He didn’t care to see further proof of his adversary’s success.
“Potter,” said Draco, keeping his voice even.
“Malfoy,” said Potter, sitting across from Draco. “This is my associate, Astoria Greengrass.”
Greengrass gave Draco a curt nod and sat next to Potter, her light green eyes giving Draco a long and unapologetic evaluation.
“You told the front office that you had information on the organization calling itself the Confederacy,” said Potter. He placed a thick brief on the table.
“That’s right,” said Draco, attempting a sneer. “But I want to know what I’m getting in return if I give you what I have.”
Potter sighed. “How good’s your information?”
“Good,” said Draco. “You don’t want to pass this up, Potter.”
Greengrass whispered something in Potter’s ear.
“We can offer you a job in the Department,” said Potter. He was smiling broadly.
Draco snorted. “I mean money. Maybe some real estate. Not a job.”
“Tell us exactly what you have and then we’ll talk rewards,” said Potter.
“Fine,” said Draco. “I’ll tell you what happened.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Draco sipped his firewhisky and scanned the Hog’s Head. There was only one other customer, a wizard with a scraggly brown beard at the bar. Aberforth was listening to him hold forth on some matter of great importance.
The pub’s door swung open and a tall figure in a cloak walked in. The man’s face was hidden by a hood, his gait purposeful. He sat down at the small table with Draco.
“You Malfoy’s kid?” asked the cloaked figure.
“Yeah,” said Draco. “Take off the hood. I want to see who I’m talking to.”
The man pulled down the hood, revealing a nondescript, unshaven face with narrow brown eyes and a thin white scar on the upper lip.
“What do you want?” asked Draco bluntly after a moment of silence.
“I want to recruit you, Draco. We want to recruit you,” said the unshaven man.
“Recruit me for what?” asked Draco, taking a sip of firewhisky.
The man smiled. “You hear about that little rumble up in Kent? Mudblood family got themselves taught a little lesson.”
“Yeah,” said Draco. A Muggle-born family had been tortured by men in masks and cloaks. One of them had been killed. It had been all that the Prophet could report on for the last few weeks.
“That’s all us, lad,” said the man. His eyes actually twinkled. “You served the Dark Lord. You come from an ancient family”one of the best. It’s time to do your duty as a pureblood.”
“Listen to me, scum,” said Draco, pointing a finger in the man’s dirty face. “I am a member of a very old family and I’m hardly going to run around with a bunch of unorganized fools who think they can bring down the Ministry.”
“We aren’t unorganized,” said the man. “We’ve got a plan, Draco. A big one. Our leader is brilliant. We can bring this country”and all the mudbloods in it”to its knees. And you will be part of the conquering army for once.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” asked Draco.
The man shrugged. “You don’t really. But I know your type. You didn’t like watching Potter and his merry band of misfits win, did you?”
Draco did not answer.
“Of course you didn’t,” said the man, as if Draco had answered him. “Well, here’s your second chance, pal.”
There was silence for a moment. Draco could feel his mind whirring. What should he do?
The ragged man sighed and got up, his chair scraping the floor shrilly. “I guess you don’t have the courage,” he said. He pulled a thick coin out of his pocket and put it on the table. “Drink’s on me.”
“I’ll do it,” said Draco.
The man sat down again. “That’s the spirit. Have I told you my name yet?”
“No.”
“Shamus Buckley,” said the man. He stuck out his grubby hand and Draco gingerly shook it. “Welcome to the Confederacy, Draco.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“What happened then?” Potter asked. Greengrass was furiously making notes.
“He said that they’d be in touch and he left,” said Draco. He thought that his tale had gone over rather well; with luck he would rolling in Galleons by the end of the day.
Potter opened the file in front of him and pulled out a moving, black-and-white photograph. “Is that the man you met?”
It was. Shamus Buckley was sitting in a room not unlike the one they were in now and was holding up a card with his name on it.
“That’s him,” said Draco. “Did you already know he worked for the Confederacy?”
“We suspected,” said Potter. “But we weren’t sure. How long has it been since you met with him?”
“I met him last night. I got an owl yesterday morning telling me to be at the Hog’s Head,” said Draco. “I assume they’ll send me another letter with more details.”
“Were you followed when you came here this morning?” asked Greengrass, her first audible words. Her voice was crisp and cool.
Draco shook his head. “Apparated from my flat. No one knew where I was coming.”
“Okay,” said Potter, getting up. “You’ve given us some good information, Malfoy. I’m going to discuss this with the Department. You stay put and I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“I’d like a butterbeer and something to eat if I’m going to be in here for another two hours,” said Draco.
“I’ll send someone in,” said Greengrass. She and Potter left the room.
Twenty minutes later a stocky witch came in with a ham sandwich and a foaming mug of butterbeer. She put the food down on the table and left without a word.
Draco ate his meager meal and then paced the small room, which may as well have been a cell. There were no windows (not even fake ones) and only one door, which was almost certainly locked.
Nearly three hours after the food service, Potter and Greengrass returned, both of them lugging hefty files. They sat down again.
“It’s about time,” said Draco. “I’ve been in this room for almost five hours””
“How much do you know about the Confederacy?” Potter said, interrupting Draco.
“Not that much,” said Draco. “They tortured the family up in Kent. Been causing some minor trouble around the country.”
“It’s much more serious than that,” said Potter sharply. “The Confederacy is big, well-run and efficient. They seem to have a pureblood bent and may have a long-term goal. They’re the most dangerous thing this country has seen in a long time.”
“We’ve only caught a few of their operatives over the last six months,” said Greengrass. “No solid information. Apparently the underlings are operating on a need-to-know basis. None of them even knows who the Leader is.”
“It can’t be Buckley, can it?” Draco said.
“Absolutely not,” said Greengrass irritably. “Buckley is only a small fish. The Leader is someone powerful and cunning, someone with an ulterior motive.”
“I don’t know why you’re telling me all this,” said Draco. “I just want to take my money and leave.”
Potter sighed. “That’s the thing, Malfoy. You’re our new ace. We don’t want you to walk away. We want you to double for us inside the Confederacy.”
“I can tell you right now that that’s not going to happen,” said Draco. “I’ve already put my neck on the line. I want my reward. That’s it.”
“Your family’s still rich, Malfoy,” said Potter. “You didn’t tell us what you’ve told us for a few extra Galleons. What is it you really want?”
“I’m in this for the money,” said Draco. “I don’t care about bringing down the Confederacy and saving the Mudbloods.”
“If you act as double agent for the Ministry, you will receive an Order of Merlin, First Class,” said Greengrass. Her words carried authority in every syllable. “Along with that, you and your family get full pardons””
“We’re already pardoned!” said Draco. “We’ve been cleared””
“You and your parents are still on probation,” said Potter. “You do this for us and you’ll receive full pardons from the Minister himself. Along with a substantial amount of gold.”
That same little part of Draco that had told him to go to the Ministry in the first place was whispering, though he tried to ignore it. “How much gold?” he asked.
“A thousand Galleons,” said Potter. He looked as though it caused him physical pain just to say the words.
“All you’ll have to do is get in the Confederacy’s favor,” said Greengrass. “We’ll pull you out as soon as we have what we need: the identity of the Leader and the Confederacy’s master plan.”
The money, the pardons, the Order of Merlin was almost enough. But”as much as Draco hated to admit it”the word that his little voice kept repeating was the only real reason that he said: “Fine, I’ll do it.”
That word was redemption.
End Notes:
If you like this story so far, why not check out some of my other stuff by clicking on my penname? Why not leave a review while you're at it?
Author's Notes:
I know you've been waiting a long, long time for this chapter and I'm very sorry that I haven't been prompter. Hopefully it'll be worth the wait!
The owl came two mornings afterwards. It was a big fat barn owl that flew through Draco’s window, dropped the letter on his desk and was gone in an instant.
The missive was contained in a plain white envelope with Draco Malfoy written on it in black ink. Draco picked it up and slit it open.
There was a single sheet of white paper inside. On it was written The Leaky Cauldron. Room 123. Nine o’clock. .
Draco felt his heart skip a beat. He had spent the last two days waiting for this letter, examining this ridiculous situation from every possible angle. Why was he helping them, and Potter of all people? He should have refused Buckley’s offer in the Hog’s Head and walked away.
He still dreamed about the terrible things he had seen as a Death Eater, the men he’d seen die, the things the Dark Lord had forced him to do. He would awake shaking, his sheets soaked with sweat.
How could he re-enter that world of death and danger, now that he knew what terror awaited him? Why would he put his own life at risk to help the Ministry and their precious mudbloods?
He didn’t know why, not really.
Draco stuck the letter in his pocket, threw on a jacket and turned on his heel, his crummy flat disappearing before his eyes, replaced with the cavernous Ministry Atrium.
It was nearly ten o’clock and there was still a great deal of activity in the Atrium, many people just now arriving for work. Draco showed the young security witch the badge that Greengrass had given him after he had agreed to double and he was nodded through without close examination.
He joined a crowd of witches and wizards waiting for a lift and when it came, he found himself squeezed between a couple of very tall, very wide women who were talking animatedly over his head.
Draco got off on Level One and entered the Auror Office. It appeared to be just a modest office full of cubicles, but he guessed that it was probably larger than most people guessed. He was quite sure that the door to the room he had been in previously had disappeared after he left it.
A wizened secretary waved him over. “What’s your business here?”
“I’m Draco Malfoy, here to see Potter,” said Draco.
The secretary’s eyes widened. “Mr. Malfoy. Of course. Third office on your left.”
Draco followed her instructions and found the correct door. It was closed. The nameplate read: Astoria Greengrass. He knocked.
“Come in!” shouted a woman. Draco supposed it was Astoria. He opened the door and went in.
It was a spacious, tastefully decorated office. There were diplomas on the wall and a few Wizarding photographs, as well as”to Draco’s surprise”a few Muggle ones.
Greengrass was sitting at her desk, working on a bright purple typewriter, keys clacking as she wrote.
“Sit down,” she said, gesturing at a chair in front of the desk.
“Where’s Potter?” asked Draco bluntly. “I thought I was dealing with him.”
“Mr. Potter will not be handling your case. I will,” said Greengrass. She stopped typing, pulled the sheet of paper from the machine and fed it into a slot on the wall. It disappeared with a buzz.
“Why?” asked Draco.
“Mr. Potter feels that his history with you might make him prejudiced against you and your information. I have no prior relationship with you,” said Greengrass. “Sit down.”
Draco obeyed. “The Confederacy contacted me,” he said, laying the envelope on Greengrass’s neat desk. “I’m to meet them tonight. At the Leaky Cauldron.”
Greengrass examined the envelope and enclosed note with interest, performing a few spells on them that elicited bursts of green smoke. Appearing satisfied, she placed the note neatly back in the envelope and filed it away in a drawer.
“The letter was magically wiped of traces, and thoroughly so, I might add,” she said. “You will have to be at that meeting tonight. You will follow whatever orders they give you, will do whatever is requested of you. We want as much information as possible.
“Shall I make mental notes of their names?” asked Draco with sarcasm.
Greengrass did not smile. “There will be no need of that. We will hear everything they say.”
She touched herself under the chin with her wand and said: “Ellen, could you send Parker in?”
Draco did not hear any response, but Greengrass nodded and said: “Thank you.”
A moment later the door opened and a slender, balding, bespectacled man entered with a leather case.
“This is Mr. Herman Parker,” said Greengrass. “Herman, if you will.”
Parker smiled brightly and opened his case. “Mr. Malfoy, is it?” he said, eyes twinkling.
“Yes,” said Draco, trying hard to make his tone as cool as possible.
Parker pulled what looked like a small lump of flesh-colored putty from the case. “I just invented this,” he said holding it up. “Got the idea from my Muggle Studies class a few years back.
“What is it?” asked Draco.
“It’s a listening device. The Muggles use very similar ones,” said Parker smugly, smoothing the putty in his hands. “Of course, those work on batterlies and acclivity and such, rather than magic.”
The man reached over and the smoothed the putty between the top of Draco’s ear and his scalp.
“What are you doing?” said Draco, jerking away.
“That’s where it goes,” said Parker, sounding hurt. “Virtually undetectable. A Secrecy Sensor might pick it up, but you’re almost certainly safe from Anti-Concealment Charms and Searching Spells.”
“We will be able to hear everything on our end,” said Greengrass. “But you won’t be able to hear us, which means you will be receiving no official instruction during the meet. You’re on your own.”
“That’s comforting,” said Draco. “What do I do if I’m found out?”
Greengrass shrugged. “Duel your way out or hope that our team gets there in time to save you. If we hear that you’ve been discovered, a team of Aurors will be sent to incapacitate the Confederates. But, ideally, your cover will be intact for a while longer.”
“I’m not in this for the long haul,” said Draco sharply. “Two weeks, tops. After that, I walk away. I’ll end up dead if you keep this up.”
“Listen to me, Malfoy,” said Greengrass. Her voice had an edge he had never detected before. “The Confederacy is planning something. Something that will take innocent lives. If you’re such a coward that you’re willing to put the lives of innocents in jeopardy to help yourself, then consider yourself done here. We’ll raid the meeting tonight and save ourselves the trouble of dealing with someone as totally spineless as you.”
Parker’s mouth was hanging open a little. This was obviously not protocol.
There was a heavy silence for several seconds. Draco tried to think of a retort that would wound her, but could think of none. Finally, he said: “I said I’d do it and I’m going to. But I’m not going to let you walk all over me. I will go to Potter if I have to and ask him””
“To assign you to someone else?” said Greengrass, smiling for the first time. “I’m sure Mr. Weasley would be happy to take on your case. Or perhaps Mr. Longbottom.”
Greengrass had won and she knew it. Draco did not respond.
Parker muttered something under his breath and left the room.
“You can go now, Malfoy,” said Greengrass, putting a sheet of paper in her typewriter. “You will wait in a holding room for the rest of the day.”
Draco opened his mouth to insult her, but closed it. He left the room without another word, carefully letting the door bang behind him.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
At eight-fifty-five, Draco Apparated into the Leaky Cauldron, having finally gotten the go-ahead from Greengrass. He had spent hours waiting in the holding room, had eaten both lunch and dinner there. He intended to complain to Potter the first opportunity he got.
The Cauldron was not as full as Draco had expected; there were only a few people scattered around the pub. Hannah Abbott was behind the bar serving drinks. Draco knew that her husband, Longbottom, was also here, and waiting to raid Room 123 with the rest of the Aurors. The thought gave him a little comfort.
He wound around the room until he reached the staircase leading to the inn’s rooms. He found Room 123 with ease. The door was closed and locked.
Draco raised his hand to knock, but paused. There was still time to escape, still time to renege on his deal with Potter and the Ministry.
No. He had started this and he would finish it. He rapped on the door three times.
It opened a crack and a dark eye peered out.
“It’s Draco Malfoy. I was told to come,” said Draco.
The door opened all the way and Draco stepped into the darkened room.
Though it was dim in the room, Draco could vaguely make out three figures: one sitting in a chair, one standing by the door and one, smaller figure, sitting on the bed.
“Draco!”
To Draco’s enormous surprise, the smallest figure jumped up and hugged him. The voice was familiar.
“Er, hi,” said Draco, patting whoever it was on the back.
A lamp lit with a hiss and Draco saw that he was embracing Pansy Parkinson, her pug-like face shining with glee.
Buckley was seated, his legs crossed. “Glad you could make it, Draco,” he said. “I take it you know Miss Parkinson?”
“Of course he knows me!” said Pansy. “We dated!”
It was almost funny. Draco had spent nearly a year trying to shake Pansy off and when he had finally broken up with her, she reappeared here, in the most unlikely of situations.
“The fella by the door is Nick Jarndyce,” said Buckley, gesturing towards the bulky, black-bearded bear of a man who had let Draco in. He nodded curtly.
“Now that we’re all here,” said Buckley, “we can get down to business””
“Wait a minute,” said Draco. He could feel his fear receding. There were only three of them and one of them was Pansy, who had not successfully performed the Full Body-Bind until her sixth year. “I’d like to know a little more about this organization. Who runs it? What are the plans?”
Buckley grinned. “Well, as for our leader, that we’re going to keep private for a little longer, Draco. This is a big group and we’re operating on a need-to-know basis.
“As for our plans,” said Buckley, “those are simple. The eradication of the damned mudbloods.”
Pansy and Jarndyce both chuckled sycophantically. Draco forced a smile. “But how are we going to go about that?” he asked. “The mudbloods outnumber us ten to one””
“Patience, Draco,” said Buckley. “All in good time. For now, our goals are a little less lofty.”
He walked to the window and pulled up the shade. “At nine o’clock, the shops in Diagon Alley close. The four of us are going to be making a little money tonight. For the Confederacy, of course.”
“Robbery?” said Draco. “I’ve joined this organization so I can rob shops?”
Buckley patted him on the back. “Never fear, Draco. Our leader has much bigger plans for you. But for now, we will settle for a few extra Galleons.”
“Which shop?” asked Pansy. She sounded excited at the prospect.
“A new one,” said Buckley. “’Morgan’s Magical Marvels,’ it’s called. The owner is supposed to be filthy rich and the shop’s been doing good business. We get in, take the money and leave. No hassle. No killing.”
“If we can help it,” said Jarndyce, an idiot grin on his twisted face.
Buckley smiled, but did not continue. He sat down again and glanced at his watch.
Draco opened his mouth to ask another question, but Pansy intervened, sitting him down on the bed and chattering at him.
“How were you recruited?” Draco asked during a pause in her elongated speech about her pleasure at their reunion.
“Me? Like everybody, I guess. I got an owl and met Shamus just a few weeks ago. This is my first official mission,” she said with pride.
“Have you met the leader yet?” Draco asked.
Pansy shook her head. “I’ve been to headquarters, though. It’s a grand place, Draco, so big””
“Here,” said Buckley, thrusting a thick black cap in Draco’s direction. Draco wondered if he had purposely interrupted Pansy’s monologue.
“What is it?” asked Draco.
“Mask,” said Buckley. “The chance that any of us will be recognized is slim, but we’re not taking any chances.”
Draco took the hat, examined it and then thrust it into his pocket. It folded down into a mask that would effectively hide his face should anyone see him. He felt like a fool. He had at least expected something a little grander than robbing a magic shop.
“It’s a little after nine,” said Buckley. “We’ll Apparate separately into the Alley. Try not to look conspicuous. Mill around for a few minutes and then meet in the alley behind Morgan’s. Got it?”
Everyone nodded. Buckley grinned, turned on the spot and vanished. There was a second pop as Jarndyce did the same.
Draco saw Pansy lean to grab his arm, but he Apparated off the bed before she could suggest that they go together. He could only stand so much of her inane conversation.
He re-materialized outside Gringott’s. The huge marble bank was silent, cold. There were no lights on.
The Alley itself was dark and mostly deserted. Only a scant few of the shops were opened and these were not heavily patronized. Most everyone was either already gone or emigrating to the Leaky Cauldron.
Draco took his time getting to Morgan’s. He knew where the shop was and had even gone in a few weeks ago. There had been a very pretty girl at the counter. He had not bought anything. He was careful with his money these days. His parents had, of course, given him a large sum of money when he left Hogwarts, but he had accepted nothing further from them.
It was going on nine-twenty by the time Draco reached Morgan’s. It was really quite a small shop, squeezed between Eeyelop’s Owl Emporium and a store that sold secondhand robes. There was a second story, presumably where the shopkeeper lived. All the windows but one were dark. Draco wondered if he would need to be incapacitated. Probably.
Buckley, Jarndyce and Pansy were already in the alley behind the shop. Buckley was pointing his wand at the building and muttering; something that looked like a heat haze was flowing from the tip of his wand.
“Complex Silencing Charm,” he said to Draco. “No sound can be heard from outside. We can do our business as loudly as we like.”
“What if the shopkeeper comes down?” asked Pansy. She sounded a little nervous now that she was in a position that might require her to duel.
“We Stun him,” said Buckley. “No bodies.”
“We could have a little fun with him,” said Jarndyce, smiling and showing teeth the color of chocolate. “I think he’s a mudblood.”
Buckley ignored this comment and continued casting his charm. When he was done, he turned and said: “Alright, the shop has an Intruder-Detecting Jinx and a Caterwauling Charm around it. Nothing too complicated. I’ll break the jinx. Draco, you take the Charm.”
Draco wracked his brains, trying to remember how to undo charms. A few spells finally came to him and he began muttering them under his breath, waving in his wand in what he hoped were the right motions.
When he was done, he performed a spell to detect the presence of charms, hexes or curses. To his pleasure, only the Jinx remained.
“Well done, Draco!” said Pansy, patting him on the back.
“Done,” said Buckley, wiping the sweat off of his forehead. “This shopkeeper must be good; that was a well-cast jinx. We should all be extra careful in there. Anything could be a trap.”
All four put on their masks. Draco felt like an idiot, but he had to admit that the masks would disguise them well. He could see nothing of his companions except for their eyes and mouths.
Jarndyce rapped on the back door with his wand. The lock clicked and the door swung open soundlessly. All four of them crept in, Pansy taking up the rear.
They were in a storage room of some kind. It was full of stacked boxes and twice Draco heard Jarndyce bump into a crate or a pile. If something fell over, their advantage”surprise”would be taken away.
Buckley lit his wand and led the way out of the storage room. He checked the door for spells and, finding none, entered the shop proper.
Draco remembered the layout from his earlier visit. The interior of the shop closely resembled the back room. It was so full of merchandise that only about ten people could be in the shop at a time, causing long lines outside when it first moved in.
The wandlight went out and Pansy jumped, nearly toppling over a display of Sneakascopes. Draco caught it before it fell over.
Jarndyce took up a position next to the narrow staircase that led to the second floor. There was a tiny chink of light coming down from the second story. Someone was awake.
Buckley moved behind the counter to the old-fashioned cash register and tapped it gently with his wand. He hissed.
“Another Caterwauling Charm on the latch,” he said under his breath. “Draco, Pansy, check the walls for a safe. Careful, now.”
Draco did as he was told, feeling the wooden walls for protuberances or evidence of magical concealment. Pansy did the same. Even in the dim light, Draco could see that she was shaking a little.
For nearly three minutes, Draco searched for a safe and found none. He could hear Buckley swear softly over by the cash register; apparently there was yet another charm on it to break.
Jarndyce stood like a statue by the staircase, grinning like a human shark, his fingers tight around his wand. He was waiting for someone to duel with.
Then it happened. As Pansy hastily felt the walls for a safe, her trembling hands knocked a large, framed portrait off the wall. It crashed on the floor in what sounded like an explosion.
Pansy squeaked as another light went on. There was the sound of voices and feet on floor. The shopkeeper was coming down.
Draco turned on the staircase, wand outstretched. Jarndyce was crouched like a huge dog, waiting to spring.
The door at the top of the stairs opened and a chubby, red-faced little man in nightclothes raced down the stairs, wand in hand. A curse flew across the room, shattering a glass globe. Pansy dove to get out of the way.
Jarndyce threw a hex at the shopkeeper, who nimbly returned it. Jarndyce was blown off his feet into a set of shelves. The noise was unbelievable.
Buckley was still working on the cash register, his lips forming words even amongst the chaos. There were now loud bangs coming from his wandtip; he was no longer trying to keep quiet.
The red-faced shopkeeper turned his wand on Draco, who used the first spell that came to mind: the Leg-Locker Curse.
To Draco’s surprise, his curse hit the shopkeeper, who tumbled off the staircase onto the floor, flapping like a fish, still trying to aim his wand.
Jarndyce, now upright again with a cut on his cheek, bellowed “Stupefy!”
The jet of red light struck the old man in the chest and he stopped flopping around.
By now a fat, red-haired woman in a nightgown had appeared at the top of the stairs, firing off curses and jinxes at an alarming rate. It was like a fireworks display inside the small shop.
A set of shelves exploded behind Draco and he was briefly buried under the weight of spellbooks and boxed magical instruments. He heard Pansy shriek as a spell hit her.
Draco extricated himself from the rubble enough to fire off a Stunning Spell. It went wide, bounced off a mirror and hit the wall.
Jarndyce was now dueling with the shopkeeper’s wife, who seemed a match for him. The spells were flying so fast that Draco could not really see whose was whose. Buckley was still working on the cash register, his eyes wide with concentration.
Pansy screamed an obscenity and Draco turned towards her. Her mask was off and her pug-like face was covered with eight or nine throbbing red pustules and she was attempting to fix them, though rather unsuccesfuly, Draco thought. They were only getting larger.
There was a crash as the fat woman fell from the staircase, her body immobilized by a Full-Body Bind. Jarndyce was standing over her, clearly pleased with himself. His cloak was riddled with small, smoking holes.
“That bitch!” screamed Pansy, running forward. She slashed her wand down and a long cut appeared on the woman’s face, blood bubbling out of it. The woman’s eyes rolled in pain that she was otherwise unable to express.
“Stop that!” yelled Draco. He pushed Pansy out of the way. “We’re not here to maim these people!”
“She maimed me!” said Pansy, pointing at her boil-covered face.
“Yes!” said Buckley. The cash register opened with a creak. “Finally broke that Sticking Charm!”
Jarndyce went over to help Buckley collect the money. Draco averted his gaze from the shopkeeper’s wife. He couldn’t stand to see the look of horror and pain in her eyes.
Pansy seemed to have regained her bravado now that the shopkeeper and his wife were incapacitated. She kicked the old man in the side and smiled.
Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw a thin, white-clad figure on the staircase. He whipped around, wand arm rising, but the figure jumped down with a cry and started to scratch at him, knocking him to the ground and hitting him as hard as it could.
Draco’s mask, already loose, came off and he saw that his attacker was the pretty girl he had seen working the counter. He poked her in the belly with his wand and she went flying into a bookshelf.
Jarndyce pointed his wand at the girl as she righted herself and she fell again, immobilized like the woman that Draco thought was probably her mother. Her blue eyes flicked around wildly, taking in her surroundings.
“Draco! Are you all right?” asked Pansy. She gave the girl a dirty look. “Must be a Squib. No wand.”
Buckley flicked his wand and the Petrified girl flew across the room, finally landing on her face next to her Stunned father. A little trickle of blood flowed from her head.
“Only thing I hate worse then a muddy is a damned Squib,” said Buckley. He was holding a large sack of Galleons, as was Jarndyce.
Draco felt like he might be sick. If he went over to help the girl, his cover would be blown or at least exposed to serious scrutiny. He couldn’t do it.
“How much money?” asked Pansy eagerly.
Buckley smiled. “Plenty. More than I thought we’d get.”
He surveyed the shop, which looked as though it had been bombed. “We did good work here. I’m going to take the gold to headquarters. You three go home. We’ll be in touch soon.”
Without another word, Buckley Disapparated. Jarndyce followed suit.
Draco wanted to be the last one there, wanted to see if he could help the girl a little. Luckily, Pansy Disapparated without asking him to come with her. Draco was alone in the dark shop.
He ran over to the prone girl and turned her stiff body over. Her head was bleeding badly, freely, her eyes rolled up into her head.
There were at least a dozen pops behind Draco; he spun around, expecting to see the Confederates standing there with their arms folded.
Instead, a group of Aurors and Healers had arrived. The Healers ran to the family lying at the bottom of the staircase. Draco saw Greengrass standing by the cash register and went over to her.
“Why didn’t you intervene?” he said. “That girl might die.”
Greengrass’s face was hard. “Go home, Malfoy. We’re handing this over to the Magical Law Enforcement Squad. I’ll meet with you in the morning.”
She turned to another Auror, but Draco grabbed her arm and spun her back around.
“Listen to me,” he said. “I’ve done what you asked. but I will not””
“Go home,” said Greengrass. “And do not touch me like that.”
She turned away, back to her colleagues.
Draco Disapparated. He felt a weight on his shoulders that he had not felt for six years. The guilt that came with being responsible for harming the innocent.
But he had lived with that guilt for a long time now. He could live with it a little longer.
End Notes:
If you've been enjoying "The Double," so far, why not trot over to my author page, which contains links to my other stories? Why not read, and review, some of them? Just a suggestion.
Author's Notes:
I know that this chapter is obscenely late. I hope that everyone can accept my apologies for letting this story fall by the wayside. Enjoy!
Draco slept fitfully that night, his brain swirling with all that had happened the day before. It was all too much. The robbery, Pansy, the Squib. He was in this now and there was no backing out.
What was the Confederacy’s aim? Who controlled this organization? How big was it? It was rather ridiculous, Draco thought, to be part of an organization he knew practically nothing about.
He got up early and scanned the icebox for something to eat. Draco rarely ate in his flat; most mornings he went to the Leaky Cauldron or the Three Broomsticks for breakfast. He didn’t feel up to it today.
Draco finally settled on a carton of stew that his mother had sent over a few days previously. She was constantly sending him fancy gift baskets full of food that the house-elves had prepared.
Little as he liked to admit, Draco depended entirely on his parents’ support. He hadn’t held a job for nearly three months, had no special skills and no money that was truly his own.
His mother wanted him to move back into the Manor, had for years implored him to live with them. Draco wanted to be alone. He had no particular prospects, few friends outside of a few old Hogwarts acquaintances and no desire to do much of anything with himself. And he just wanted to be left alone by everyone.
Now there was this ridiculous Confederacy business. He had voluntarily gotten himself mixed up in it. Why? Did he want excitement? Money of his own? A change? He didn’t really know. At this point he just wanted to get out before he got himself”or someone else”killed.
Draco ate in his cramped kitchen, trying to think of things barbed enough to say to Astoria Greengrass when he saw her next. Greengrass -- so smugly callous and officious.
There was a banging on the door of the flat. Draco jumped, nearly spilling his stew.
“Mr. Draco Malfoy! Open this door!”
The voice was rough and male. Draco grabbed his wand and tiptoed to the door. He peered out through the peephole.
Five or six wizards stood outside his door, wands drawn. They were all wearing bright purple robes. Magical Law Enforcers. Perhaps with a message from Greengrass.
Draco cautiously opened the door. “What do you want?” he asked.
To his surprise, two of the wizards barged in and grabbed his arms. A third wrested the wand from his hand.
“What the hell is this?” yelled Draco, struggling against his muscle-bound captors.
A stout witch in the purple robes of the Magical Law Enforcers stepped forward. “Mr. Malfoy, you are being charged with magical assault, illegal entry and burglary.”
Draco would have laughed out loud had the situation not been so serious. “That’s ridiculous!” he said. “If you’ll let me explain””
The stout witch tapped him smartly in the small of the back. Something like an electrical shock went through Draco’s body. He writhed in the grip of the burly Enforcers holding him. His arms magically locked together behind his back.
“Let’s go,” said the burly witch. She turned sharply and disappeared. The Enforcers holding Draco followed her lead.
The sensation of Apparition”unpleasant as it was”was greatly heightened by Draco’s addled state. For a moment he thought he was going to vomit and wondered idly where the vomit would go if he did.
Firm ground had never felt so solid. Draco gasped for breath and nearly dropped to his knees as the men holding him let go.
They were clearly in the Ministry, in a dingy little waiting room in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. A couple of seedy-looking witches were sitting in a small waiting area, their arms pinioned as Draco’s were. One popped her Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum at Draco.
The stout witch steered Draco over to a vacant seat and pushed him down in it. “Stay put.”
“Listen to me,” said Draco, breathing heavily and trying to control his nausea. “This is a misunderstanding. Call the Auror Office and ask for””
“Wait your turn,” said the witch, who walked away.
Draco was so angry that he felt ready to explode. He was arrested by the Ministry for a crime that he had been told to commit by the Ministry. It would have been funny if he wasn’t so angry
The stout little Enforcer walked over to a nearby desk and started filling out paperwork with a yellow quill. A second Enforcer came over and led the two seedy witches down a corridor, presumably to a cell.
Draco attempted to think of a name bad enough to call Astoria, but even his repertoire of profanity failed him. He decided to settle for a long, angry diatribe. She deserved it, the idiot. How could this have happened?
The female Enforcer came over after about twenty minutes. Her hair was red and curly, her face broad and rather reminiscent of a cow’s.
“A witness to a burglary last night identified you as one of the perpetrators,” she said slowly. Draco got the impression she was rather enjoying herself. “Where were you last night?”
“Call the Auror Office; ask for Astoria Greengrass,” said Draco through gritted teeth. “She will tell you what I was doing last night and why.”
The Enforcer rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard a lot of tall tales, Mr. Malfoy. But I’ll send Miss Greengrass a memo. For now, come with me.”
Draco was led down the corridor (his arms were mercifully freed by a tap of the curly-haired witch’s wand), photographed in a dark room and then marched into a bare little holding cell where he was left alone.
More infuriated than ever, Draco paced the cramped room, thinking dark thoughts of retribution. This was too much. He could deal with being a mole in the Confederacy, but he wasn’t going to be rewarded with indignities like this.
After nearly two hours, the cell door opened and Astoria Greengrass walked in.
“What the hell is going on here?” said Draco without preamble. “What kind of game is this? I’m helping you people. Why the bloody hell am I being arrested?”
Greengrass closed the door sharply and sat down. “The girl in the shop, the Squib. She heard Pansy call you ‘Draco’ and told Magical Law Enforcement. They put the pieces together and assumed you’d been involved.”
“But I work for you,” hissed Draco. “Why isn’t that common knowledge?”
Astoria’s face was grim. “Because you don’t work for the Ministry, Malfoy. You work for the Auror Office.”
“What?” said Draco, completely confused.
Astoria leaned forward and lowered her voice, even though Draco was quite sure the walls of the cell were soundproof. “Officially, you are not affiliated with the Ministry in any way. There are Confederate moles inside the Ministry and we can’t let them know you’re working for us. Which is why this situation is so complicated.”
“How big is this bloody Confederacy?” said Draco. “If there’s spies in here, then how are you going to spring me?”
“We’ve been discussing that,” said Astoria. “We’re pretty sure there’s a mole in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Which is why you need to appear loyal to the Confederacy.”
“And how do I do that?” asked Draco. His head was starting to hurt from the web of machinations.
Astoria reached into her robes and pulled out her wand. “You grabbed this from me, you overpowered me, you knocked me out. Stun the man outside the door. Take a left at the end of this corridor; there’s a Floo fireplace. Go to London. Check into the Derry Hotel.”
“A Muggle hotel?” said Draco, appalled. “I don’t have any Muggle money.”
Astoria handed him a packet. “There’s enough in there. We’ll be in touch. Just stay away from other wizards and witches.”
Draco nodded, put the packet in his pocket and took Astoria’s wand. He was going to try not to enjoy this.
She waited completely impassive. Her calmness impressed Draco despite his dislike of her.
“Stupefy.”
Astoria slumped to the floor of the cell, unconscious. Draco caught her head before it hit the floor. He didn’t like the woman, but he didn’t want her in a coma, either.
The guard would be more difficult, especially if there were others in the corridor. Draco didn’t like the idea of engaging in a duel with Ministry personnel in the heart of the Magical Law Enforcement office. He would have to be careful.
He opened the door slowly. The guard was a short, balding man reading the Daily Prophet. He looked up as Draco left the cell and then slid down the wall onto the floor when hit by Draco’s silent Stunner.
Draco dragged the little man into the cell with Astoria and closed the door, his heart pounding. The corridor was otherwise deserted. He started down it, trying to act like someone who belonged there.
When he rounded the corner he nearly ran into the squat, curly-haired Enforcer, who was carrying an armload of paperwork.
“Stop!” she said, eyes widening. Draco Stunned her before she could say anything else. The little woman fell to the floor, somewhat cushioned by her pile of paperwork.
Mercifully, this corridor was also deserted and Draco could see several Floo fireplaces set into the walls. This was probably where off-Ministry visitors to the Office arrived.
Draco stopped by the closest fireplace. There was a large metal machine sitting by it, apparently a coin-operated Floo powder dispenser.
Of all the times to be out of money. Draco searched his pockets for an agonizing moment until he finally found a Galleon, which bought him a handful of Floo powder. His hands were shaking so badly that he nearly dropped it on the floor.
He threw it into the fireplace and ducked in. He could hear people shouting in the vicinity; his absence had probably been discovered.
“The Leaky Cauldron!” said Draco, the first place he could think of.
He caught a tiny glimpse of shouting Enforcers turning the corner before he was being whisked through space and hurtled through fireplaces until he stopped, a little woozy, in the fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron.
He stepped out, shaking his head to orient himself. The pub was mostly deserted; it was ten-thirty or so and the breakfast crowd had left. Hannah Abbot was polishing the silver behind the bar.
“Hello Draco,” she said, startled by his sudden appearance and shell-shocked demeanor. “Are you here for breakfast?”
“Uh, no,” said Draco. “Just passing through.” He crossed the pub to the main door and emerged into Muggle London.
*
The Derry Hotel was a dump and a Muggle dump at that. Tucked away in a seedy little corner of London, it had taken Draco nearly an hour and a half to find the place. It sat tucked between an apartment complex and a dark building with flashing neon ‘XXX’ signs in the window.
Draco walked in and surveyed the shabby lobby. The inside was a little better than the outside, but not by much. The clerk at the desk was chewing gum, which reminded Draco of the witch he’d seen in the Ministry.
The clerk gave Draco an appraising look. Draco was glad that he was wearing slacks and a nondescript sweater with a green Slytherin ‘S’ on it rather than his usual robes. That would have been rather difficult to explain.
“I’d like a room for the night,” said Draco, walking up to the gum-chewing clerk.
“Sure,” she said. “Double bed all right?”
“Yes,” said Draco. He took out the packet of money Astoria had given him and for the first time in his life wished that he had taken Muggle Studies at Hogwarts.
Before the clerk could name a price, Draco handed over what he thought was a likely amount. To his intense relief, the clerk nodded, blew a bubble and handed him a small amount of change with a key.
“316 is the room. Checkout time is eleven tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” Draco muttered.
He rode the rickety lift up to the hotel’s third floor (he thought there were five). The corridor was empty when he got out. Of course it was; it was twelve o’clock in the afternoon.
Draco found his room and went in. It was as small and shabby as the rest of the hotel, but it was at least neat and fairly clean.
Before he did anything else, Draco drew his wand and looked in the closet and W.C. He had become paranoid over the last few days.
When he had determined that the room was empty, he lay down on the ugly bedspread and stared at the wallpaper, which was yellow with blue circles all over it.
What a mess. He was a double agent inside a dangerous criminal organization and a fugitive from the law at the same time. If he saw a chance to extricate himself, he would take it. This couldn’t go on much longer.
His stomach growled and he realized how hungry he was.
Draco debated whether or not to leave the room. On one hand, he didn’t want to miss anyone from the Ministry who would come to help him. On the other hand, he was starved and tired.
Eventually, hunger won out and Draco crossed the street to a small Muggle tea shop. He bought a sandwich and brought it back to his room, incurring a suspicious stare from the clerk, who apparently found it odd that a grown man on his own would be spending his day in a hotel room.
The sandwich wasn’t half-bad; it certainly sated Draco’s hunger. When he’d eaten it, Draco lay down on the bed and noticed the squat black box sitting opposite him, on a shelf.
He seemed to recall something about these Muggle devices (Were they called PVs?). Curious, Draco picked up the black device he assumed to be the controller and switched the box on.
What looked like a moving painting appeared in the box’s glass window. A large Muggle in a suit was staring at Draco and talking about the weather in Surrey.
Fascinated by this bizarre contrivance, Draco flicked through the different sets of pictures. Some of them, he gathered, were real and others were like theater. Some had laughter after the Muggles spoke (presumably the humurous plays) and others had music.
It was dark by the time Draco heard the knock on his door. He turned off the PV (he’d been watching a very odd performance featuring an incompetent cheese salesman) and went to the door, wand at the ready.
Draco put his eye to a small window in the door and saw that it was Astoria. He opened the door and she walked in. She closed and locked the door after her with a flick of her wand.
“How’d you know which room I was in?” asked Draco.
“Locating spell,” she said. She pointed her wand at the ratty drapes and they closed.
“Are you all right?” Draco asked as she sat down on his bed. He took a chair.
“Oh, yes,” said Astoria. “I’ve been Stunned before. You’ve caused quite a commotion at the Ministry. I expect your face will be in the Prophet tomorrow.”
“Wonderful,” said Draco. “When this is all over, I want my name cleared. I’m not walking around with a price on my head.”
“Believe me, Malfoy, your name will be more than cleared,” said Astoria. “You’ll probably be getting an Order of Merlin.”
Draco wanted very badly to react to this, but he remained calm. “Right now what I want are answers. Why didn’t you mention the small detail of my not being employed by the Ministry before I was arrested?”
Astoria’s lips were pursed. “We didn’t want to scare you off. We felt it was better for you not to know quite how serious the situation is. We didn’t want you to run, or worse, turn to the Confederacy for safety.”
Draco laughed bitterly. “I suppose I don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to bravery, do I?”
Astoria inclined her head slightly. She clearly agreed. “Your past record is unimportant. You’ve done good work so far.”
“Yeah,” said Draco. “’Good work’ that hurt three innocent people.”
“That was not an easy situation,” said Astoria. “If we had intervened, your cover would have been blown and we would only have three low-level Confederates. A lot is at stake here. Have you heard about the Ministry Ball?”
“My invitation must have been lost in the post.”
“The entire Ministry will be convening at Chesterfield Hall in three weeks. It’ll be one of the largest social events in Ministry history. Funds are going to be raised for the establishment of a new branch of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. We think the Confederacy will try to strike then.”
“Can’t you cancel the ball or tighten security or something?” asked Draco.
“We’re not going to cancel it and security is going to be heavy,” said Astoria. “But we’d all breathe a lot easier if we had good information on the Confederacy by that time.”
“What are you all so afraid of?” asked Draco. “What is it you think they’re planning?”
She shook her head. “We don’t know. The little information we have indicates that it’s big. We don’t know much more.”
“So I just sit around and wait for the Confederacy to contact me?” said Draco.
“That’s right,” said Astoria. “If we’re lucky, you’ll be taken to their headquarters soon. Once we have the location of their leader, we should be able to take them down.”
“And when that happens, I want Order of Merlin, First Class,” said Draco.
“We’ll see about that,” said Astoria.
End Notes:
Okay, this time, Chapter Four will be faster, I swear. While you're waiting, you may as well check out some of my other stories, which are linked on my profile page.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.
