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.