An Unnecessary Delay (H/D, PG-13)
Title: An Unnecessary Delay
Author: sesheta_66
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Word Count: ~ 3065
Pairing/Characters: Harry/Draco
Challenge: For hapendfro's birthday prompt of "Draco needs a job and can't find one in Wizarding World due to his family's past, so he ends up working in Muggle London at a fast food franchise." It also fits my GJ 100_prompts table #009 - "metal."
Summary: Draco needs to find a job, but no one in the wizarding world will hire him.
Disclaimer: The author is not responsible for underage readers. Please observe the ratings, warnings, and age of legal consent for your country. The characters contained herein are not mine. They belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, but as I've told you every other time you have tried to make a withdrawal, the Ministry still has a hold on your funds."
"But you said the investigation would be finished in a year."
"No, I didn't. What I said was that these types of investigations are usually completed in less than a year. In your case …"
"They are taking their sweet time," Draco grumbled.
"It would seem so," the managing goblin agreed.
"But I have no money left!" he protested, glad for the privacy the room offered.
"Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do to help you."
"You could arrange for a loan for me," he suggested. "You know I'm good for the galleons."
"Actually, I don't know that. You yourself just said you have no money left. If the Ministry does not find in your favour, they could seize all of your assets, including your family home. And, unless something has changed since last we met, you do not have a source of income with which to pay back any loan you might receive."
"You act as if I haven't tried, but I have. I can't get a job. Not even you will hire me - I know because I've applied here as well as everywhere else I can think of."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy," he said, sounding less sorry than bored. Likely the only thing that prevented him from throwing Draco out on his arse, he surmised, was the fact that the Ministry might, at some distant date in the future, release his holdings, and surely the goblin before him wouldn't want to lose Draco as a customer.
Draco left Gringotts fuming. It had been well over a year since the Ministry had started their investigation into the Malfoy fortune, claiming they suspected it had been obtained through some combination of dark magic, coercion, blackmail and theft. The fact that the family fortune had been passed down from generation to generation mattered not to the powers that be. In fact, they had suggested that perhaps the family had been up to no good for generations.
They had contacted the authorities in France and Spain, where the Malfoys owned property, and all holdings had promptly been seized. They had attached all liquid assets, directing Gringotts not to release any funds, or they would be charged as accomplices. They had been allowed to keep the Manor in Wiltshire, but had been warned that it too could be seized, should the family be found guilty.
Lucius had already been sent back to Azkaban, with a healthy addition to his original sentence. But so far they couldn’t prove how the Malfoy fortune came to be. Apparently, there was no Statute of Limitations on investigating, and they could prevent Draco and his mother from accessing their money for as long as they wished. And it wasn't as though Draco had the money to hire a solicitor to defend them. He had used up all the galleons he could afford just keeping their family home. And now he had run out of all money that he and his mother had managed to access before the Ministry had intervened.
The Ministry hadn't stopped there. They had, together with The Daily Prophet employed a rather nasty smear campaign, which had resulted in Narcissa and Draco being virtually unemployable. He suspected there might have been less legitimate persuasive techniques used also, but he couldn't prove anything. He had also been advised that, pending the outcome of their investigation, he was not to leave the country. When he asked why, the Auror had suggested that they could 'set him up with a nice suite in Azkaban if he'd prefer'. He didn't, so he stayed in England.
As he entered the Manor, he braced himself for what he was about to say. "Mother!" he called. As he watched the regal and ever-composed Narcissa descend the staircase, he bustled up all the courage he could.
"Hello, darling. How did your visit to Gringotts go? Were you able to persuade them?"
"I'm sorry, Mother, but no. And I'm afraid we've spent all the money that we did have, and we've exhausted all our other options." Narcissa gave him a wistful look, as he took a deep breath. "I have been trying to find a job everywhere, but no one in wizarding London is willing to risk employing a Malfoy until the Ministry has finished its investigation."
"Well, surely you can make the Ministry see reason! I mean, how are we supposed to live? Isn't it asking for trouble if we are forced to find other ways to survive?"
"Yes, Mother, but they are not listening. In fact, no one at the Ministry will see me, answer my Floo calls or my owls. It's like they refuse to acknowledge our existence, except to make it miserable for us."
"What are we supposed to do now?"
"Not we, Mother, but I." She looked questioningly at her son. "I shall go into Muggle London and get a job. At least that way we can eat. Then I'll worry about everything else later."
Draco watched his mother's face go from irritated to sad to hopeful as he spoke. "If you feel that's best, Draco, I will trust your judgement."
"What I feel is cheated and angered and abandoned. But never mind that. Perhaps, once I am able to get some money together, I can hire a solicitor to push the Ministry into action."
Narcissa's face glowed and she hugged her son. "I trust you to make everything right again, Draco." He cringed as a thought, unbidden, entered his mind. What if he couldn't do it? What if they lost everything? As he looked into his mother's eyes, he vowed to himself that he would do anything - anything to prevent that from happening.
Draco spent the next week in Muggle London. He had decided that, as desperate for a job as he was, he would be better served to observe Muggles at work for a short while first.
On his fifth day of observation, he saw a sign in a window that read Part-time help wanted. No experience necessary. Training provided. Apply within. Well, it was destiny, he supposed. Taking a deep breath, he entered 'Burger King' to get himself a job.
It was easy, really. He filled in the application form to the best of his ability, then cast a charm over the form to ensure any of the blank spaces looked properly completed when the 'store manager' looked at them. He hadn't even had to cast a spell on the Muggles to get them to hire him, which was an added bonus. He really didn't need to risk drawing attention to himself. He went home to tell Narcissa that he would start his new job in two days. When she asked, he told her - quite truthfully - that he was working in the Muggle service industry. She didn't ask what that meant.
His first day was a disaster. There was grease - grease - everywhere! It was disgusting. He was sure it had seeped into his skin and would reside there forever. Every surface was metal. Everywhere he looked. Where were the granite and marble surfaces befitting a Malfoy? Where were the house-elves? Why was this happening to him? He was spoken to in a condescending manner the entire day by ... by ... Muggles! And they weren't just any Muggles - they were children! Muggle children that fancied themselves better than him.
One, however, took pity on him - but not in a bad way. Susan was her name, and she reminded Draco of Hufflepuffs back in Hogwarts. At the time he had had no use for them, but having a helpful sort around, who was kind and understanding, was just what he needed right now. He shuddered as that thought came over him, but managed to get over it. After all, he couldn't afford to lose this job.
With Susan's help, he managed to 'learn the ropes' as she put it, and within a week, he had successfully figured out what he was to do. He felt satisfied that he would be able to keep this job as long as necessary, which hopefully wasn't that long at all. After each shift, he left feeling (and smelling) greasy, and his quick cleansing spells did nothing to make him feel better. Only long, hot baths followed by longer showers did the trick. He had told Narcissa when she asked that he was 'washing the Muggle off,' which she found somewhat amusing. Draco did not.
On his second shift of his third week, however, the unthinkable happened. In walked a pack of Gryffindorks, led by the weasel. Unfortunately, Weaselby had noticed him first, so there was no hiding and no casting a spell to escape. He was cornered, mortified. Oh, but it got worse. Much, much worse. They approached his till, so that he had to wait on them. A Malfoy serving a Weasley! It was the utmost in humiliation. And the stupid weasel enjoyed every minute of it.
"Draco! Fancy meeting you here!"
"Oh, Draco, are these your friends?" the traitorous Susan's voice chimed.
"We all went to school together," the weasel offered. "So do you work here every Tuesday?"
"Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays," Susan said helpfully. The bitch. The weasel smiled like a fox entering a hen house. Fuck.
Surprisingly, the humiliation was somewhat minimal. Susan managed to redeem herself slightly by chatting them up, which distracted from what was sure to have been utter torture. Draco left for home almost sure he was to be accosted by the Gryffindorks, but no. Warily he made his way back to the Manor.
Four days later, on his Saturday shift, he knew why no one had approached him after work Tuesday. The weasel wanted to make his shame complete, so he came in with none other than the saviour of the bloody world. Harry fucking Potter. Once again, Draco hadn't noticed on time. Susan did though. She waved and called out, "Draco, look, it's your friend from school!" as they approached. "Ooh," she continued, "he brought a really cute one with him this time. D'you think you could introduce me?"
Draco was torn between hexing her into oblivion and hiding himself under the counter. Neither was an option, however, as Potty and the weasel approached. "Malfoy?" Potter asked sounding surprised. It seemed the weasel hadn't warned him either.
"Yes, Potter, how can I help you?"
"You work here?" he asked incredulously.
Susan elbowed him. "Ahem," she said, moving her eyes between him and Harry.
"Oh, right," he said, somewhat relieved that he had something to use to avoid Potter's question. "Susan Marshall meet Harry Potter."
"Pleased to meet you, Harry," she said, shamelessly grinning as she flung her hair back. Honestly! "Were you and Draco here friends at school as well?" she asked.
Harry laughed. "Hardly. I'd say we were more like ... what would you say, Draco? ... rivals? enemies? prone to killing each other?"
"Really?" Susan asked.
"Oh, yes," Harry said, looking bemused. "But it's okay now," he whispered conspiratorially. "Neither of us really wants the other dead, do we Draco?"
Draco wasn't so sure about that. He most definitely wouldn't have minded the weasel being dead right now, looking all smug. "What would you like?" Draco responded, avoiding the conversation altogether.
"So how long have you been working here?" Potter asked, apparently also wanting to steer the conversation his way.
"Oh, he's been here almost a month now, haven't you Draco?"
"And you knew this?" Potter asked the weasel, who suddenly didn't look so smug. He nodded. "And you didn't tell me? You just thought you'd --"
"Oh, he wanted it to be a surprise!" Susan offered. Potter winced.
"Excuse me ... Susan, is it?"
She looked positively ready to wet herself when Harry addressed her by name. Oh, for the love of Merlin!
"Yes?" she replied hopefully.
"Well, I don't mean to be rude," Potter said, "but I would really like to catch up with Draco here on my own. Would you mind terribly?"
She looked crushed. Draco was torn between wanting to thank Potter and wanting to run away, because he didn't want to 'catch up' on anything at the moment. And why did he keep calling him Draco?
Not waiting for an answer, he turned back to Draco. "By any chance, do you have a break coming up?" he asked.
Susan, helpful as ever, responded. "Oh, yes, he could take a break right now. Fifteen minutes." In a whisper she added, "But if you take longer, I'll cover for you." Potter grinned widely.
Resigned to his fate, Draco said, "Very well, Potter. Why don't you order from Susan here, and I'll come round?"
"Great."
As Draco came out to find their table, he discovered Potter sitting on his own. "Where's the weasel?"
"I sent him home."
"What, he's your minion now?"
Potter chuckled. For some strange reason Draco liked the sound of it. Where did THAT thought come from? "No, Draco, having minions is your thing, not mine. I just explained to Ron how much of a prat he was being, so obviously relishing your predicament, and he suggested that he might as well go home if I'd rather, and I told him that was a brilliant suggestion."
Draco gaped at him in shock. "You mean you're not going to ridicule me?"
"Why would I do something like that?"
"Um ... because you can?"
Once again, Potter chuckled. Draco's insides jumped at the sound, and he shifted in his seat. "Draco, I meant what I said. I don't want you dead. Truth be told, I never did. But now ... well ... don't you think it's silly for us to hold onto our childhood animosity?"
"I suppose," Draco said, waiting for the punch line of this sick joke of a life that had befallen him.
"Good ... so ... why are you here?"
"I would have thought that was obvious, even to you, Potter. I work here."
Potter rolled his eyes. "Yes, well, that much I'd figured out for myself, thanks. I meant why are you working here? I mean, this is Muggle London. Surely you of all people don't want --"
"Yes, well, we don't all get what we want, do we Potter? Not all of us are worshipped like you, are we? Some of us actually have to --"
"Draco, wait. Stop. Do you mean to say you had no choice? But you're rich. Your family has more money than --"
"Correction, Potter. Had. We had more money."
"What do you mean? Surely you didn't spend it all!"
"No, Potter, we didn't spend it all. The Ministry took it."
"What?!"
"You didn't know? I thought everyone did."
"Hardly. Of course, I've been away ..."
"Ah, riding the wave of fame I presume. Going to awards ceremonies all over the globe, then?"
"Quite the opposite, actually," he replied quietly. "I just needed to get away from everyone. I've always hated the spotlight, and it was brighter and hotter than ever, so I ..."
"Ran away?" Draco finished. "The brave Gryffindor hid away from all his adoring fans?"
"I suppose that about sums it up, yeah." Potter looked sheepish. "But forget about me. What do you mean the Ministry took everything?"
"Well, they didn't exactly take everything. They're just holding it all."
"But it's been two years! What are they holding it for?"
"They're investigating to see how much money my father might have earned as a result of the nefarious actions. Whatever that turns out to be they will take."
"And Malfoy Manor?"
"That they've let us stay in, but without access to money, we can't keep it going for much longer. Father is still in prison, Mother doesn't work, and ... well ... here I am."
"That's ridiculous! Surely you can get them to release enough funds for you to live?"
"As a matter of fact, no I can't. Don't you think I've tried?"
"The right solicitor --"
"Ah, yes, well solicitors cost galleons, don't they? Something I'm decidedly lacking in these days."
"But this is ... it's just ... well, it's unfair is what it is."
It was Draco's turn to laugh. "Ever the fair Gryffindor. You should know by now, Potter that life isn't fair."
"True enough, but your family had money dating so far back --"
"Yes, and they claim that perhaps it was obtained suspiciously even then."
"This whole thing is stupid. How can they think they can get away with this?"
"Have I not been clear? They are getting away with this."
"We'll see about that," Potter said as he got up. "I believe Susan is about to have a fit. I think your break is over."
As Draco got up to make his way back to work, he said, "Thanks, Potter."
Potter furrowed his brows. "For what?"
"For not enjoying my humiliation."
He looked taken aback. "You're welcome," he said with a nod.
One week later, Draco was advised that all holds on the Malfoy accounts had been lifted. The Manor was theirs, as was the fortune that resided in all their vaults.
The Monday after that, an article appeared in The Daily Prophet describing how much help Draco and Narcissa Malfoy had been to Ministry officials in their investigations of known Death Eaters after the war. It went on to publish a public apology from the Ministry for any delays with the investigation into the Malfoy fortune, and cleared both their names of any wrongdoings.
Three days later, an owl delivered a note to the Manor.
Draco,
I trust this letter finds you and your mother well. I hope that you can forgive a Gryffindor for being naive enough to think that the Ministry would take action based on my testimony before I left Britain. I really had no idea what had happened in my absence, and I have done what I could to rectify the situation.
I hope that you will accept this dinner invitation from me as my apology for any delay that could have been avoided.
Harry.
As he sent his reply, Draco smiled, thinking of Susan's words. Yes, Susan, as a matter of fact he is a cute one.
Author: sesheta_66
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Word Count: ~ 3065
Pairing/Characters: Harry/Draco
Challenge: For hapendfro's birthday prompt of "Draco needs a job and can't find one in Wizarding World due to his family's past, so he ends up working in Muggle London at a fast food franchise." It also fits my GJ 100_prompts table #009 - "metal."
Summary: Draco needs to find a job, but no one in the wizarding world will hire him.
Disclaimer: The author is not responsible for underage readers. Please observe the ratings, warnings, and age of legal consent for your country. The characters contained herein are not mine. They belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, but as I've told you every other time you have tried to make a withdrawal, the Ministry still has a hold on your funds."
"But you said the investigation would be finished in a year."
"No, I didn't. What I said was that these types of investigations are usually completed in less than a year. In your case …"
"They are taking their sweet time," Draco grumbled.
"It would seem so," the managing goblin agreed.
"But I have no money left!" he protested, glad for the privacy the room offered.
"Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do to help you."
"You could arrange for a loan for me," he suggested. "You know I'm good for the galleons."
"Actually, I don't know that. You yourself just said you have no money left. If the Ministry does not find in your favour, they could seize all of your assets, including your family home. And, unless something has changed since last we met, you do not have a source of income with which to pay back any loan you might receive."
"You act as if I haven't tried, but I have. I can't get a job. Not even you will hire me - I know because I've applied here as well as everywhere else I can think of."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy," he said, sounding less sorry than bored. Likely the only thing that prevented him from throwing Draco out on his arse, he surmised, was the fact that the Ministry might, at some distant date in the future, release his holdings, and surely the goblin before him wouldn't want to lose Draco as a customer.
Draco left Gringotts fuming. It had been well over a year since the Ministry had started their investigation into the Malfoy fortune, claiming they suspected it had been obtained through some combination of dark magic, coercion, blackmail and theft. The fact that the family fortune had been passed down from generation to generation mattered not to the powers that be. In fact, they had suggested that perhaps the family had been up to no good for generations.
They had contacted the authorities in France and Spain, where the Malfoys owned property, and all holdings had promptly been seized. They had attached all liquid assets, directing Gringotts not to release any funds, or they would be charged as accomplices. They had been allowed to keep the Manor in Wiltshire, but had been warned that it too could be seized, should the family be found guilty.
Lucius had already been sent back to Azkaban, with a healthy addition to his original sentence. But so far they couldn’t prove how the Malfoy fortune came to be. Apparently, there was no Statute of Limitations on investigating, and they could prevent Draco and his mother from accessing their money for as long as they wished. And it wasn't as though Draco had the money to hire a solicitor to defend them. He had used up all the galleons he could afford just keeping their family home. And now he had run out of all money that he and his mother had managed to access before the Ministry had intervened.
The Ministry hadn't stopped there. They had, together with The Daily Prophet employed a rather nasty smear campaign, which had resulted in Narcissa and Draco being virtually unemployable. He suspected there might have been less legitimate persuasive techniques used also, but he couldn't prove anything. He had also been advised that, pending the outcome of their investigation, he was not to leave the country. When he asked why, the Auror had suggested that they could 'set him up with a nice suite in Azkaban if he'd prefer'. He didn't, so he stayed in England.
As he entered the Manor, he braced himself for what he was about to say. "Mother!" he called. As he watched the regal and ever-composed Narcissa descend the staircase, he bustled up all the courage he could.
"Hello, darling. How did your visit to Gringotts go? Were you able to persuade them?"
"I'm sorry, Mother, but no. And I'm afraid we've spent all the money that we did have, and we've exhausted all our other options." Narcissa gave him a wistful look, as he took a deep breath. "I have been trying to find a job everywhere, but no one in wizarding London is willing to risk employing a Malfoy until the Ministry has finished its investigation."
"Well, surely you can make the Ministry see reason! I mean, how are we supposed to live? Isn't it asking for trouble if we are forced to find other ways to survive?"
"Yes, Mother, but they are not listening. In fact, no one at the Ministry will see me, answer my Floo calls or my owls. It's like they refuse to acknowledge our existence, except to make it miserable for us."
"What are we supposed to do now?"
"Not we, Mother, but I." She looked questioningly at her son. "I shall go into Muggle London and get a job. At least that way we can eat. Then I'll worry about everything else later."
Draco watched his mother's face go from irritated to sad to hopeful as he spoke. "If you feel that's best, Draco, I will trust your judgement."
"What I feel is cheated and angered and abandoned. But never mind that. Perhaps, once I am able to get some money together, I can hire a solicitor to push the Ministry into action."
Narcissa's face glowed and she hugged her son. "I trust you to make everything right again, Draco." He cringed as a thought, unbidden, entered his mind. What if he couldn't do it? What if they lost everything? As he looked into his mother's eyes, he vowed to himself that he would do anything - anything to prevent that from happening.
Draco spent the next week in Muggle London. He had decided that, as desperate for a job as he was, he would be better served to observe Muggles at work for a short while first.
On his fifth day of observation, he saw a sign in a window that read Part-time help wanted. No experience necessary. Training provided. Apply within. Well, it was destiny, he supposed. Taking a deep breath, he entered 'Burger King' to get himself a job.
It was easy, really. He filled in the application form to the best of his ability, then cast a charm over the form to ensure any of the blank spaces looked properly completed when the 'store manager' looked at them. He hadn't even had to cast a spell on the Muggles to get them to hire him, which was an added bonus. He really didn't need to risk drawing attention to himself. He went home to tell Narcissa that he would start his new job in two days. When she asked, he told her - quite truthfully - that he was working in the Muggle service industry. She didn't ask what that meant.
His first day was a disaster. There was grease - grease - everywhere! It was disgusting. He was sure it had seeped into his skin and would reside there forever. Every surface was metal. Everywhere he looked. Where were the granite and marble surfaces befitting a Malfoy? Where were the house-elves? Why was this happening to him? He was spoken to in a condescending manner the entire day by ... by ... Muggles! And they weren't just any Muggles - they were children! Muggle children that fancied themselves better than him.
One, however, took pity on him - but not in a bad way. Susan was her name, and she reminded Draco of Hufflepuffs back in Hogwarts. At the time he had had no use for them, but having a helpful sort around, who was kind and understanding, was just what he needed right now. He shuddered as that thought came over him, but managed to get over it. After all, he couldn't afford to lose this job.
With Susan's help, he managed to 'learn the ropes' as she put it, and within a week, he had successfully figured out what he was to do. He felt satisfied that he would be able to keep this job as long as necessary, which hopefully wasn't that long at all. After each shift, he left feeling (and smelling) greasy, and his quick cleansing spells did nothing to make him feel better. Only long, hot baths followed by longer showers did the trick. He had told Narcissa when she asked that he was 'washing the Muggle off,' which she found somewhat amusing. Draco did not.
On his second shift of his third week, however, the unthinkable happened. In walked a pack of Gryffindorks, led by the weasel. Unfortunately, Weaselby had noticed him first, so there was no hiding and no casting a spell to escape. He was cornered, mortified. Oh, but it got worse. Much, much worse. They approached his till, so that he had to wait on them. A Malfoy serving a Weasley! It was the utmost in humiliation. And the stupid weasel enjoyed every minute of it.
"Draco! Fancy meeting you here!"
"Oh, Draco, are these your friends?" the traitorous Susan's voice chimed.
"We all went to school together," the weasel offered. "So do you work here every Tuesday?"
"Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays," Susan said helpfully. The bitch. The weasel smiled like a fox entering a hen house. Fuck.
Surprisingly, the humiliation was somewhat minimal. Susan managed to redeem herself slightly by chatting them up, which distracted from what was sure to have been utter torture. Draco left for home almost sure he was to be accosted by the Gryffindorks, but no. Warily he made his way back to the Manor.
Four days later, on his Saturday shift, he knew why no one had approached him after work Tuesday. The weasel wanted to make his shame complete, so he came in with none other than the saviour of the bloody world. Harry fucking Potter. Once again, Draco hadn't noticed on time. Susan did though. She waved and called out, "Draco, look, it's your friend from school!" as they approached. "Ooh," she continued, "he brought a really cute one with him this time. D'you think you could introduce me?"
Draco was torn between hexing her into oblivion and hiding himself under the counter. Neither was an option, however, as Potty and the weasel approached. "Malfoy?" Potter asked sounding surprised. It seemed the weasel hadn't warned him either.
"Yes, Potter, how can I help you?"
"You work here?" he asked incredulously.
Susan elbowed him. "Ahem," she said, moving her eyes between him and Harry.
"Oh, right," he said, somewhat relieved that he had something to use to avoid Potter's question. "Susan Marshall meet Harry Potter."
"Pleased to meet you, Harry," she said, shamelessly grinning as she flung her hair back. Honestly! "Were you and Draco here friends at school as well?" she asked.
Harry laughed. "Hardly. I'd say we were more like ... what would you say, Draco? ... rivals? enemies? prone to killing each other?"
"Really?" Susan asked.
"Oh, yes," Harry said, looking bemused. "But it's okay now," he whispered conspiratorially. "Neither of us really wants the other dead, do we Draco?"
Draco wasn't so sure about that. He most definitely wouldn't have minded the weasel being dead right now, looking all smug. "What would you like?" Draco responded, avoiding the conversation altogether.
"So how long have you been working here?" Potter asked, apparently also wanting to steer the conversation his way.
"Oh, he's been here almost a month now, haven't you Draco?"
"And you knew this?" Potter asked the weasel, who suddenly didn't look so smug. He nodded. "And you didn't tell me? You just thought you'd --"
"Oh, he wanted it to be a surprise!" Susan offered. Potter winced.
"Excuse me ... Susan, is it?"
She looked positively ready to wet herself when Harry addressed her by name. Oh, for the love of Merlin!
"Yes?" she replied hopefully.
"Well, I don't mean to be rude," Potter said, "but I would really like to catch up with Draco here on my own. Would you mind terribly?"
She looked crushed. Draco was torn between wanting to thank Potter and wanting to run away, because he didn't want to 'catch up' on anything at the moment. And why did he keep calling him Draco?
Not waiting for an answer, he turned back to Draco. "By any chance, do you have a break coming up?" he asked.
Susan, helpful as ever, responded. "Oh, yes, he could take a break right now. Fifteen minutes." In a whisper she added, "But if you take longer, I'll cover for you." Potter grinned widely.
Resigned to his fate, Draco said, "Very well, Potter. Why don't you order from Susan here, and I'll come round?"
"Great."
As Draco came out to find their table, he discovered Potter sitting on his own. "Where's the weasel?"
"I sent him home."
"What, he's your minion now?"
Potter chuckled. For some strange reason Draco liked the sound of it. Where did THAT thought come from? "No, Draco, having minions is your thing, not mine. I just explained to Ron how much of a prat he was being, so obviously relishing your predicament, and he suggested that he might as well go home if I'd rather, and I told him that was a brilliant suggestion."
Draco gaped at him in shock. "You mean you're not going to ridicule me?"
"Why would I do something like that?"
"Um ... because you can?"
Once again, Potter chuckled. Draco's insides jumped at the sound, and he shifted in his seat. "Draco, I meant what I said. I don't want you dead. Truth be told, I never did. But now ... well ... don't you think it's silly for us to hold onto our childhood animosity?"
"I suppose," Draco said, waiting for the punch line of this sick joke of a life that had befallen him.
"Good ... so ... why are you here?"
"I would have thought that was obvious, even to you, Potter. I work here."
Potter rolled his eyes. "Yes, well, that much I'd figured out for myself, thanks. I meant why are you working here? I mean, this is Muggle London. Surely you of all people don't want --"
"Yes, well, we don't all get what we want, do we Potter? Not all of us are worshipped like you, are we? Some of us actually have to --"
"Draco, wait. Stop. Do you mean to say you had no choice? But you're rich. Your family has more money than --"
"Correction, Potter. Had. We had more money."
"What do you mean? Surely you didn't spend it all!"
"No, Potter, we didn't spend it all. The Ministry took it."
"What?!"
"You didn't know? I thought everyone did."
"Hardly. Of course, I've been away ..."
"Ah, riding the wave of fame I presume. Going to awards ceremonies all over the globe, then?"
"Quite the opposite, actually," he replied quietly. "I just needed to get away from everyone. I've always hated the spotlight, and it was brighter and hotter than ever, so I ..."
"Ran away?" Draco finished. "The brave Gryffindor hid away from all his adoring fans?"
"I suppose that about sums it up, yeah." Potter looked sheepish. "But forget about me. What do you mean the Ministry took everything?"
"Well, they didn't exactly take everything. They're just holding it all."
"But it's been two years! What are they holding it for?"
"They're investigating to see how much money my father might have earned as a result of the nefarious actions. Whatever that turns out to be they will take."
"And Malfoy Manor?"
"That they've let us stay in, but without access to money, we can't keep it going for much longer. Father is still in prison, Mother doesn't work, and ... well ... here I am."
"That's ridiculous! Surely you can get them to release enough funds for you to live?"
"As a matter of fact, no I can't. Don't you think I've tried?"
"The right solicitor --"
"Ah, yes, well solicitors cost galleons, don't they? Something I'm decidedly lacking in these days."
"But this is ... it's just ... well, it's unfair is what it is."
It was Draco's turn to laugh. "Ever the fair Gryffindor. You should know by now, Potter that life isn't fair."
"True enough, but your family had money dating so far back --"
"Yes, and they claim that perhaps it was obtained suspiciously even then."
"This whole thing is stupid. How can they think they can get away with this?"
"Have I not been clear? They are getting away with this."
"We'll see about that," Potter said as he got up. "I believe Susan is about to have a fit. I think your break is over."
As Draco got up to make his way back to work, he said, "Thanks, Potter."
Potter furrowed his brows. "For what?"
"For not enjoying my humiliation."
He looked taken aback. "You're welcome," he said with a nod.
One week later, Draco was advised that all holds on the Malfoy accounts had been lifted. The Manor was theirs, as was the fortune that resided in all their vaults.
The Monday after that, an article appeared in The Daily Prophet describing how much help Draco and Narcissa Malfoy had been to Ministry officials in their investigations of known Death Eaters after the war. It went on to publish a public apology from the Ministry for any delays with the investigation into the Malfoy fortune, and cleared both their names of any wrongdoings.
Three days later, an owl delivered a note to the Manor.
Draco,
I trust this letter finds you and your mother well. I hope that you can forgive a Gryffindor for being naive enough to think that the Ministry would take action based on my testimony before I left Britain. I really had no idea what had happened in my absence, and I have done what I could to rectify the situation.
I hope that you will accept this dinner invitation from me as my apology for any delay that could have been avoided.
Harry.
As he sent his reply, Draco smiled, thinking of Susan's words. Yes, Susan, as a matter of fact he is a cute one.