Leigh!fic | Your Secret Kiss (My Escape) (1/2) | Zacharias Smith/Astoria Greengrass
Title: Your Secret Kiss (My Escape) (1/2)
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Zacharias Smith/Astoria Greengrass
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 13,300
Warnings: None
Summary: A simple job turns complicated when the alcoholic, middle-aged bounty hunter and the divorced, spoiled socialite collide.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is JKR’s. No copyright infringement is intended, and no money is being made.
Author’s Notes: Written for the 2014 round of interhouse_fest. My love and thanks to carrie_leigh for the beta and feedback, and to baby_k21 for giving me a visual representation of Zach that is beyond perfect. The prompt is my favorite exchange of dialogue from The Musketeers -- I hope you enjoy it! ♥
The seedy office above No. 24 Knockturn Alley had seen its fair share of clientele. Drug runners, pimps, smugglers, thieves. On the rare occasion, honest folk looking to retrieve something a thief had stolen. Women with cheating husbands, husbands with cheating wives. Hell, he'd even had a member of the mafia come across the threshold.
But never before had Zacharias Smith's dingy little business seen a woman like Astoria Greengrass.
She looked out of place amongst the threadbare faux-leather chairs. His desk was dinged and littered with case files, stacked under half-finished cups of coffee and one not-so-discreetly hidden bottle of whiskey. Hell, even the location of his establishment -- above The Shady Lady, home of the best middle-aged exotic dancers this side of the Thames -- spoke volumes. Everything about his office screamed cheap, while the woman perched in the seat across from his desk was anything but.
In contrast, there was not a stitch out of place on Astoria Greengrass. Her robes were designer, her shoes and matching handbag made of Italian leather, and there wasn't a stitch of gray in her dark brown locks. She even smelled like high class -- Zach liked to pretend it was Eau d'Argent. Only the tiny wrinkles at the corners of her eyes hinted at her age.
What the hell did a woman like her need a man like him?
He cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair, which squeaked in protest. "I was surprised to get your owl, Mrs. Malfoy," he said by way of greeting. "Why don't you start by telling me why you might need my services."
She arched one imperious brow at him and fished a card from her purse. She placed it atop of stack of papers and withdrew her hand. Zach didn't reach for it; he knew what it was. His own business card. "Mr. Smith, I was assured you were the best in your field. Your knack for research, for one, and your ability to produce favorable results were two reasons I was assured it would be in my best interests to contact you. Are those statements out of line?"
Zach's lips curled. "Not at all. You want the best, you came to the right place."
Astoria's brown eyes were cool as her lips thinned. "Then I'm certain you did your homework before I arrived, Mr. Smith. Therefore, you know quite well I have not been Mrs. Malfoy in over eleven years."
His smirk grew, and he nodded in acknowledgement. He liked a woman with a bit of fire in her blood. "Touché, sweetheart. So, what's your problem? Cheating lover? Unruly house elf? Your accountant skimming your Gringotts account?"
"My business is of a very personal nature, and I do not appreciate your attempts at being glib," she replied icily. Her grip on her handbag tightened, knuckles going white. "My... my contact promised me that you were the best. That despite your faults, you were the person to go to. Were they wrong?" she challenged. "For if so, I will walk out right this second."
Merlin, women. Wound tight as a fiddle, and this one certainly didn't have a sense of humor. Zach held up his hands in appeasement. "Listen, I'm sorry. Didn't mean to set you off, Ms. Greengrass. Whatever your problem is, I'm the man for the job." He reached out for his card and flicked it in his fingers, showcasing the embossed lettering.
"Yes, I read it several times. 'Zacharias Smith. Bounty Hunter.'" The brunette's gaze flickered to meet his. Her lips gave a faint twitch. "An interesting title, to be sure."
He shrugged. "You got a job, I'll do it. Don't much care what it is. My only stipulation is complete honesty. I ask you a question about this job, you answer it. Got it? You sign a contract, and I don't give a damn what the hell you do. But if it involves this case, it's my business." Zach thought his little schpiel sounded impressive enough. He gave her an arch look for emphasis. "And don't question my methods. They get the job done. Is that clear?"
"Your two stipulations are clear as crystal," she retorted. "As long as you agree to my stipulations."
"Please, darling, enlighten me."
Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't comment. "I require complete and utter discretion," she began in a tone that Zach recognized all too well. It was a tone that said fuck with me at your own peril. "If I see a word of anything we discuss in the newspaper or gossip rags, I will see you in court so fast your head will spin. And trust me, you will not like that outcome."
Zach was sure he wouldn't. She likely had a team of barristers at her beck and call, who'd wring him dry -- and he didn't have that many Galleons to begin with. "Understood, Ms. Greengrass. Everything you say to me stays between us. Even if you leave this room without signing a contract, I will not take what you say to me today to the papers. You have my word."
She looked as though she were unsure of that, and he supposed he couldn't blame her. Still, he was a man of honor -- slightly tarnished as it was. Finally, she nodded. "Fine. Where should I begin?"
"The beginning of the story always helps, sweetheart."
Her glare was piercing. "Thank you for that helpful tip, Mr. Smith." Astoria took a breath to calm herself, then another before she began to tell her story. "As I'm sure you're aware, Draco and I share a son, Scorpius. He is a year from reaching his majority."
Sixteen years old. Just as his research had told him. Zach indicated she should continue.
"Have you heard of the Brothers of Cassiopeia?"
"A bit," he admitted. "Isn't it another private group of purebloods, longing for world domination and whatnot?" While he didn't necessarily disagree with such sentiments, he'd seen enough fighting and whatnot during school. Zach liked keeping his head buried firmly in the sand when it came to such matters, thank you very much.
"It's a bit more serious than that. They fashion themselves the next batch of Death Eaters. From what I've heard, all they lack now is new Dark Lord to lead them." She paused. "I have heard rumors they've approached my son."
Rumors? "Not to be blunt, Ms. Greengrass," he started with every intention of being blunt anyway, "why are you here? Why not just ask your kid if he's angling for the job?"
She laughed, but there was no amusement in the sound. "Do you have children, Mr. Smith?"
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I'm not a father."
"Then you wouldn't understand. My son is a teenager. To him, the most embarrassing person at this moment in the world is his mother."
"Then what about his father?"
Astoria pursed her lips. "Draco and Scorpius are on somewhat acrimonious terms. My son might be the heir, but he is not the most beloved child in the family."
It was Zach's turn to raise a brow. "Your ex-husband has three sons by his new wife. Isn't the oldest of those his heir?"
"It was a term of the divorce. Draco would not have to pay alimony or child support as long as Scorpius remained heir to the Malfoy estate. I don't give a whit how many sons my ex-husband fathers, nor on whom he fathers them. My son keeps his rightful inheritance."
Touchy. "Right. Great, so. What's the job? Find out if Scorpius is involved in this Brotherhood thing and report back?"
"Find out if he's involved, or if he's been approached. Ensure no matter what, he does not join or even entertain the notion." Astoria's eyes were hard as she fixed him with a look. "I will not give Draco any excuse to disinherit Scorpius."
"Done." With a wave of his wand, a scroll of parchment flew from a cabinet. The words of the contract magically filled in the blanks, drawing out the terms of their agreement alongside Zach's usual retainer fee. "And the end date for our agreement?"
She thought for a moment. "He's home for the summer holiday. Given it is early June, I want this matter settled by the time the train departs for school on September first."
"That's less than three months," he reminded her. "You want a rush job, that'll cost you."
"How much?"
He threw out an outlandish sum. Astoria didn't even blink. "Agreed." Taking the quill from his outstretched hand, she glanced over the wording, then signed her name in the indicated spots.
He grinned and rolled the scroll up. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you, sweetheart. I'll be in touch soon."
"Mr. Smith, I'm sure along the way, someone told you such terms of endearments were charming. They're not." She rose from her seat and gave him a curt nod in dismissal. "I look forward to your progress."
*~*~*~*~*
Research was dull work. Zach was sure some biddies -- like Granger and her ilk -- got a thrill from it, but it put him to sleep without at least three cups of coffee. In his line of work, though, research eventually paid off, and it paid well. If he finished this job, he'd have enough in his vault to do whatever he wanted. Maybe he'd go on holiday.
Until then, he was committed to Scorpius Malfoy. Lucky him.
For the third time in thirty minutes, Zach flipped open the file he'd compiled on the extended Malfoy family.
SCORPIUS HYPERION MALFOY
• DATE OF BIRTH - April 14, 2006
• HOGWARTS HOUSE - Slytherin
FATHER: Draco Malfoy - age 42
MOTHER: Astoria Greengrass - age 40
DIVORCED: January 25, 2011
FATHER REMARRIED: October 1, 2012
STEP-MOTHER: Miranda Montgomery - age 36
HALF SIBLINGS:
• Orion
• Pollux
• Castor
• Lyra
He flicked idly through the photos attached to the information, paying little attention to the four younger Malfoys. Zach's mother had walked out on his family while Zach was in primary school, and he hadn't heard from her since. His father never talked about her, but Zach imagined she'd found a better husband -- his old man was a hardass. It was easier than he liked to sympathize with Scorpius Malfoy’s behavior.
Then again, he thought as he examined a picture of Astoria Greengrass, taken at a recent society function, he wasn't sure Malfoy had upgraded -- at least in the looks department. Miss Greengrass might have a few more years on the new Mrs. Malfoy, but she was still an attractive woman. There were several pictures of her in his file, all compiled from the gossip and society columns. Lots of parties, lots of short, sparkly dresses, and she had different men on her arm at each one.
So. The kid had a father who'd made a replacement family, a mother who -- on the surface -- was less than attentive, and zealots looking to set him up as lord and master of the universe. It wasn't hard to see why that'd be attractive to a sixteen year old.
As for Scorpius himself, his file wasn't exactly thrilling to read. A Slytherin like his parents, Chaser on the house Quidditch team, school prefect. His grades were alright; a few marks down from top of the class, but he was far from the bottom. His little group of friends was comprised of familiar names: Zabini, Nott, Montague, Flint. New generation, same snot-nosed elitist twats.
It'd been three weeks since Astoria Greengrass had contracted his services. Since then, his life had been all Malfoy, all the time -- and that was not something he was best pleased about. For one, Scorpius Malfoy was a teenager. And secondly, he was a boring teenager. He shopped in Diagon Alley. He went to Quidditch matches, spent a weekend in France with his mates. Once, he'd even seen him taking the younger of his half-siblings for ice cream.
That alone should have discredited his Future Dark Lord standing.
But every two or so days, he disappeared. Zach hadn't been able to pinpoint where he went -- and he was damn good at tracking people. Yet a sixteen year-old shit of a kid kept slipping out from underneath him. It was never for very long -- an hour, at the most, and then he'd reappear as if nothing had happened.
Whatever he was hiding, he took it more seriously than the Brothers of Cassiopeia.
He'd followed Little Lord Fauntleroy to two meetings so far, held most covertly in the back room at Borgin and Burkes. For a future society of evil, they weren't the most inconspicuous lot. They might as well hang a sign in the front window: "Future Death Eaters, Unite!" Scorpius had stayed after the meetings, departing after speaking with an older gentleman Zach only knew by reputation: Barnabas Gallowglass. One of those "suspected, but never proven" acolytes of You Know Who. From what he could tell, Barnabas wasn't the loudest supporter, but he was certainly one of the more important ones.
Zach shook his head. Focusing on the Brothers would get him nowhere. He'd bet his prize Firebolt XXX broom (only legal in several small Middle Eastern countries) that the key to breaking Scorpius Malfoy lay in his disappearing act. Something -- or someone -- was behind his odd behavior. And gods be damned, Zacharias Smith would find out.
*~*~*~*~*
As a general rule, Zach didn't enjoy being out and about in the morning sunshine before ten a.m. He was something of a night owl. He didn't like the sunshine, or leaving his bed before he was damned good and ready. He'd had an evening visitor that night, and while that would normally put him in a jolly mood for the day ahead, Heidi hadn't exactly been quiet when leaving his flat in the early hours of the morning. She'd clambered about like an elephant, departing around six, and he'd been unable to get back to sleep.
So here he was at his favorite newsstand. Or, whatever passed for his favorite newsstand. It was the most convenient to Diagon from Muggle London -- just inside the portal from The Leaky Cauldron, and the proprietor usually threw in a pack of cigarettes with his magazines.
"Your usual?"
His cup of coffee in his hand, Zach nodded and fished a few coins out of his pocket. He tossed them to the man inside the newsstand in exchange for the glossy publications. "Cheers."
Nazir just smirked and lit up a cigarette. "You know, you are the only man I have who ignores the Morning Prophet and buys the gossip rags. You are a strange man, Zacharias Smith."
"Prophet's full of tossers," he answered idly, flipping through Witch Weekly to the society pages. "This is as good a research as any I can find."
And there she was, on the first page of the Society Section. Astoria Greengrass, posing for the cameras at some function. The woman in the photo looked at him, but did not smile before she turned to a different camera. It ran on a loop. Every time the photo of Astoria looked at it, it was like she was looking straight through him.
Beneath her photo, the caption read, "Astoria Greengrass poses on the red carpet before the Witches' Council annual charity ball. Ms. Greengrass, wearing a one of a kind Delacour gown, is a member of the Council and patroness of this year's charity, The Art of Elysium."
He flipped to the next page. And there, in his aging glory, was Astoria's ex-husband. "Summer holidays means time with family! Draco and Miranda Malfoy attend the Ballycastle versus Falmouth match with their four children, Orion, Castor, Pollux, and Lyra." Malfoy's hairline was receding, Zach noted with satisfaction as he patted his own head full of sandy blonde hair. (If it was going a bit gray around the temples, no one really noticed all that much).
It was stretching the truth a bit thin to call the gossip rags 'research' in this particular case. It was unlikely he'd see a columnist waxing poetic about Scorpius Malfoy, and everything he'd read in today's magazine was nothing he didn't already know. The Malfoys lived a lifestyle Zach himself knew little about. They were refined, polished, and had enough money to bury their enemies under gold.
Pursuing a woman like Astoria Greengrass was idiotic. What the hell was he on about? Of course he wasn't pursuing her. Thinking about her naked, yes. Wanking off to her picture? Maybe. (It wasn't a fact he was proud of). It didn't matter -- he wasn't the marrying -- or dating -- type. Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am. That was his speed.
"May I get a copy of the Financial Times and the Morning Prophet, please?"
Zach jumped at the sweet sounding voice behind him, cursing when he banged his head on the side of the newsstand. Behind him, Nazir snickered at his less than smooth move, but the young woman was concerned. "Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to startle you."
"S'alright," he ground out. It was his own damn fault. He hadn't been paying attention to anything else. He'd not expected to see her. Not here, at least.
The blonde peered at him. "Mr. Smith? Are you sure you're alright?" When he managed to nod, she smiled and held out her hand. "I don't know if you remember me. I'm Felicity MacDougal, Mr. Macmillan's assistant."
"I remember," he answered gruffly. He reached out and shook her hand briefly, dropping it as if her touch burned him. "Nice to see you."
"You as well." Her gaze dropped to the magazines in his hand, and she giggled. Giggled at him. "Looking for the best facial mask?"
"What? Oh. Erm, it's for work." Zach hastily shoved the magazines in his bag, pointedly ignoring Nazir behind him. The man was having far too much entertainment at his expense.
Felicity smiled and handed Nazir a few coins, taking her papers and tucking them beneath her arm. "Well, I best get off to work, too. Nice seeing you again, Mr. Smith!"
He managed to grit out a garbled reply. Her bright smile was burning in his mind as she left the two men at the newsstand, humming happily and a jaunt in her step. He had to stop himself from following her, even though he knew her morning routine by heart. A cup of coffee, picked up from the cafe by her flat. She'd grab her papers from Nazir, then head to the Ministry for another day's thrilling work. Zach normally timed his own visits to the newsstand to happen after she'd already departed, but he'd lost track of time.
"And this, this is why you have no woman," the newsman said in heavily accented English. "You do not have the moves to attract them."
"Oh, piss off, Nazir."
*~*~*~*~*
When he'd sent an owl to Astoria asking to meet her, he hadn't expected her to invite him into her home. He'd thought they might meet at a coffee house, or maybe at a bar -- he wouldn't have said no to a pint of ale, despite the morning hour -- or some place in public.
Of course, she likely didn't want to be seen with him. She had a reputation to maintain, or some rot like that.
Whatever her reasoning, it was no skin off his back. As he lingered in the foyer of the Greengrass home, he had to repress the urge to reach out and knock gilded mirror crooked. The black and white marble floor shone from its most recent polishing, and the rest of the room was decorated in complimentary shades of black, white, and silver. The entire home -- including its location; a posh street in Belgravia -- screamed money.
And if that weren't enough, the disapproving house elf hovering in the corner sealed the deal. The Hogwarts house elves had at least been discreet. This one looked as if its main job was making sure he didn't pocket any Greengrass family heirlooms during his visit.
The click clack click of heels on marble reached his ears, followed by a familiar voice stating, "Mr. Smith." Zach turned to face his current client, his ever-present smirk tugging at his lips. "Ms. Greengrass," he greeted with a slightly sardonic nod. His gaze flickered approvingly over the petite woman. Here, he was seeing her in her natural habitat, with the trappings of her status surrounding her. Her green dress clung to her curves, but not even a murderous pair of high heels could bring her close to his height. The top of her head barely reached his chin.
"Please," she said, gesturing for him to follow her, "come with me. We may speak in my study. Bitsy, we'll take tea."
Astoria didn't wait for him to acknowledge her, but Zach followed. As they walked down the corridor, his gaze kept bouncing between the paintings on the wall (all whispering fiercely to one another about the strange in their midst) to her pert arse. She really was a fetching woman.
Pushing those thoughts to the side -- he could think with his cock when he was off the clock -- he settled down beside her on the antique leather sofa. Astoria sat down in one of the facing guest chairs, eschewing the seat behind her polished ebony desk. Not a quill or paper was out of place there, which was a stark contrast to his own office.
For a moment, they sat in silence; her, waiting for him to say something, and him trying not to ogle the glimpse of cleavage showcased by the deep V of her dress. Finally, she spoke.
"What can I do for you today, Mr. Smith?"
There were many, many things she could do for him, starting with those lips she'd painted red... Zach shook himself out of that line of thought. "I've got a few questions for you about the job, about your son."
She raised a brow at him. "Yes?"
He settled back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other, resting his ankle on his opposite knee. "First, let's start by you telling me how you found out Scorpius had been approached by the Brothers. I'm just going to go out on a limb and assume he didn't tell you himself."
"Clearly, you don't have a teenage son," she answered dryly.
"We've already covered that base," he reminded her. "Not a father."
"In this case, you would assume correctly. One of Scorpius schoolmates, Sebastian, has also been approached by the Brothers to join their cause. And Sebastian's mother, Pansy, is one of my oldest friends. She overheard the two talking about it when Scorpius was visiting for the weekend, and she reported to me what she'd heard."
Zach tugged a battered notebook and pencil nubbin out of his jacket pocket and scribbled the names down. "Sebastian... Montague, yeah?"
Astoria hummed. "Mhmm. He and Scorpius are the same year at school."
So, Pansy Parkinson and Astoria Greengrass had been pregnant at the same time. He'd bet his one-bedroom flat both their husbands (or in Astoria's case, ex-husband) had developed heavy drinking problems during those nine months.
A pair of house elves, tea towels neatly pressed and tied over their shoulders, entered, pushing a small cart of tea and tiny finger sandwiches. They disappeared nearly as quietly as they'd arrived, and Astoria leaned forward to pick up the teapot. "How do you take your tea, Mr. Smith?"
His lips curled. "Got any whiskey?"
Her answering look was flat. "It's eleven o'clock in the morning."
Zach sighed. "Fine. A touch of honey, please." He accepted the tea from her and took a sip. Setting the delicate cup on the small table in front of him, he continued with his questions. "Does Scorpius have any problems with drugs or alcohol?"
She blinked dark brown eyes at him in surprise. "What? Don't be ridiculous. Of course he doesn't." She shook her head and sipped from her own tea. "My son does not experiment with those sorts of things."
"Begging your pardon, Ms. Greengrass," he said, "but you've already admitted your son isn't exactly open with you about his life. He's sixteen. Kids experiment at that age. I remember some good times in the prefects' bathroom at that age..."
Astoria held up one hand. "That's quite enough, Mr. Smith. I do not need to know about any debauchery you might have engaged in whilst at school. But I do know my son, and I truly do not believe he would dabble in any sort of illicit substances like that."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart," he muttered to himself. Judging by the pinched look on her face, his muttering hadn't been quite soft enough.
"Mr. Smith," she said crisply, setting her tea down hard enough on its saucer he thought she might shattered the porcelain, "I know you must think me some idle-brained socialite, who left her child to be raised by his nanny elf for most of his formative years while she hopped from glittering party to party, enjoying the company of a different man every night. For the most part, you wouldn't be far from wrong. I have not been the most involved mother I could have been, and I will never forgive myself for that."
She paused and set the saucer back on the tea service, and Zach could see her hands were trembling. "But I truly love my son more than anything or anyone else, and I will not see him throw his life away. I saw far too much of that go around the last time. I cannot bear to go through that again."
"I didn't mean to cause offense, Ms. Greengrass." She'd hit the nail square on the head; that was what he'd thought of her. He wasn't so callous as to say it to her face, though. He quite liked the promise of a paycheck at the end of the job.
He'd never been accused of an excess of professionalism, though.
"Intent is irrelevant, Mr. Smith," her tart reply stated, and he couldn't find it in him to argue.
Zach shrugged. "Well, I apologize anyway."
She studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "Your apology is accepted. What further questions might I answer for you?"
There were more questions he wanted to ask her, but they could wait. He'd already set her off enough for one morning, and none of them were of the make-or-break type. "Just one more, then I'll get out of your hair. I've been tailing your son for several weeks now, and I've noticed a pattern. Every two days or so, he vanishes."
"He's sixteen." Astoria wore a look of slight disbelief. Her tone held a hint of mockery, and she queried, "How does a sixteen year old just vanish?"
He shrugged. "Beats me. He'll disappear for an hour, maybe two. Then he's back like nothing happened. It's a long shot, I know, but do you have anyDamn it.
*~*~*~*~*
For a sixteen year-old Dark Lord in training, Scorpius Malfoy wasn't half bad at subterfuge. He was evasive, secretive, and harder to track than half the adults Zach had tailed over the course of his career. The biggest puzzle was just what he was hiding.
It should have been his involvement with the Brothers. That was the logical thing to hide, right? Yet Zach had tailed him strolling through Knockturn Alley several times over the past two months for late night meetings at Borgin and Burkes. He was less than inconspicuous, even with his hood pulled up to mask his platinum blonde hair.
No, the Brothers of Cassiopeia was definitely not Scorpius Malfoy's secret.
What had once been a simple job -- take the money, do the job, get more money -- was morphing into something more for Zacharias Smith. For one thing, he would not be outsmarted by some smarmy, privileged teenager. He didn't give a damn if Scorpius Malfoy tattooed the Dark Mark on his face and decided to prance down Diagon Alley in nothing but his underpants; come hell or high water, Zach was going to figure out what his secret was.
And then, he would finish the job. Maybe he'd be able to take his mind off Astoria Greengrass once it was over.
It was maddening. He'd never wanted for the company of women, regardless of whether he paid for that pleasure or not. He'd been told he was "ruggedly handsome," in a "bad, bad man" sort of way. His sandy blonde hair was starting to turn gray around his temples, but his face was untouched -- save for a rogue curse scar cutting through his left eyebrow. He kept himself physically fit (or at least fit enough so his drinking habits didn't lead to a paunch belly), enough so that he could have a different woman a night if he wanted.
So why could he not stop thinking about Astoria?
He was an idiot. That was what anyone would say. To any sane, rational person, she was the last woman in the world he should want. To start, she was his employer -- a fact she'd made perfectly clear several times during their meetings. She had a whole baggage trolley worth of issues, terrible taste in husbands, and more gold than she could spend in five lifetimes. Purity of blood or not, the likes of Ms. Greengrass wouldn't be caught dead sullying herself with the likes of him.
That didn't stop him from thinking about her naked, though. Fuck.
He needed a woman. Something to get her off his mind. Maybe he'd give Heidi a call tonight, if she was free after her shift again. A quick tumble between the sheets ought to help clear his mind, or at least relieve some of the pressure building in his bollocks.
Pushing all thoughts of Astoria Greengrass and her slender body from his mind, Zach focused on the task at hand. He'd followed Little Lord Fauntleroy from London to a small town in Surrey. Warlingham had a sparse wizarding population and no discernible reason for Scorpius Malfoy to take the Floo there. Yet here he was, strolling down the High Street as if he didn't have a care in the world.
When he ducked into the small post office, Zach's curiosity was officially piqued. What sort of pureblood used the Muggle post?
Waving a hand in front of a passing woman's face, he was assured his Disillusionment Charm was firmly in place when she didn't react. Striding across the street, he peered in the window. The little Malfoy had pulled a small key from his pocket and unlocked one of the for-rent postage boxes. Zach watched as he pulled a small postcard from inside and flipped it over to read the writing.
Scorpius smiled to himself, then stuffed the postcard in a rubbish bin. He glanced around hurriedly, as if to check for others watching, then he pushed out of the post office and set off down the street.
Zach didn't waste any time. Slipping inside before the door could close. The small front room was empty save for an elderly lady purchasing stamps and the postmaster helping her, neither of them paying the slightest bit of attention to the neglected bin in the corner.
Kneeling down next to it, he rifled his hand through discarded scraps of paper and envelopes. Merlin, but he didn't understand teenagers. Any nitwit with half a brain knew the Ministry couldn't track magic by underage users if done in a high concentration of other wizards -- such as his bloody home. If there was something he was going through such great lengths to hide, then it would make much more sense to burn the bloody missive.
Or Hell, toss it in the fire. He took back his previous thoughts about Malfoy's aptitude at subterfuge. On this score, he failed miserably.
His fingers closed around a postcard at the bottom of the bin, and his lips curled in triumph. Gotcha, you wee bastard. Straightening, he bit back a groan at the strain on his knees. Maybe he needed a massage after this was over, to ease his aching back.
Merlin, he was getting old.
His gaze dropped to the postcard.
S,
Two p.m. on Tuesday, Brighton pier. I miss you.
Love,
T
Son of a bitch. So that was his dirty little secret.
Scorpius Malfoy was hiding a girlfriend -- or a boyfriend; Zach wasn't judging. Whoever he or she was, he was going through a lot of trouble to keep it all a secret.
*~*~*~*~*
He'd never liked the seaside. Too many children, too much noise, and Zach hated sand. Loathed it with an intensity typically reserved for sadistic Hogwarts professors named Umbridge and the Montrose Magpies. Sand in his shoes, in his swimming trousers, and all in his bits for weeks afterwards. What sort of person would willingly subject themselves to this sort of torture, he had no idea. Just for this, he'd have to pick up some sweets before he went back to London. Candy floss, maybe, or taffy. Maybe an ice cream.
He'd arrived an hour ago and planted himself at a bench just inside the pier's entrance. He'd traded his robes and typical garb for a pair of short trousers, Manchester United t-shirt, and worn boat shoes. With his sunglasses on, he looked the picture of a typical Muggle tourist. He didn't like Muggles, but he'd learned early on in his career the benefits of posing as one. It made him wish he'd paid more attention in Muggle Studies during school -- joke of a course that had been.
Nothing to see here, little Malfoy. Just go about your business.
A book sat open in his lap. He hadn't read it -- he'd grabbed it from a pile collecting dust in his flat. Zach hadn't opened a book since he'd left school, and he had no intentions of changing that. If someone was really looking, they'd see his 'pleasure' book was really an old Lockhart book left over from his second year. Travels with Trolls, he noted as he glanced down at the title. Had he even read that one when it was required? Maybe he'd begged the notes off Finch-Fletchley from that one. Or filched them from his bag. They'd covered that one before the bloke had been Petrified, right?. Or maybe Susan had helped him out.
He could reminisce about Hogwarts later, if he wanted -- and he really didn't'. His eyes were alert, though, as he scanned the throngs of people. Brighton Pier was a big place. The note hadn't been specific, but it stood to reason Scorpius Malfoy would have to walk by him. The nearest connection on the Floo Network was in a pub about five blocks away, and he wasn't licensed to Apparate yet. Taking a Portkey was out -- he'd checked with a connection in that particular office, and there weren't any Portkeys arriving or departing from Brighton that day.
Of course, there was the possibility Malfoy could make his own Portkey. Nah. The kid was smart, but he wasn't that smart. No, he'd Floo in and walk the rest of the way.
Zach glanced down to check his watch. Two o'clock on the dot.
And there, right on time, was Scorpius Malfoy.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his camera -- one of his more brilliant purchases, he had to admit. It looked like a Muggle mobile phone, but it took high quality magical photos. Nothing like those gigantic cameras the photographers at the Prophet fooled around with. This was small, portable, and perfect for jobs like this. He could print the pictures later, and it would just look like he was a normal Muggle poking at the screen.
"Scorpius!"
His head jerked up in time with Malfoy's as a small girl wiggled through the crowd. Zach watched as she ran across the worn wooden boards to the teenager and flung her arms around his neck. Girlfriend. He couldn't hear what they were saying to each other, but he could read their lips. I missed you. He pressed the button and took a rapid series of pictures.
Scorpius and mystery blonde girl hugging.
Scorpius and mystery blonde girl kissing.
Scorpius taking the mystery blonde girl's hand and lacing their fingers together.
The pair walked toward Zach, and he hurriedly glanced down at his lap. He poked at the screen a few times, his eyes rolling up to track their movements as they walked passed him.
"Mummy won't notice I'm gone for an hour. Can you stay that long?"
"For you I can." Scorpius glanced behind him, as if expecting there to be someone tailing him. Down here, little Malfoy. No, not back there, down here. Satisfied he wasn't being tailed -- idiot -- Scorpius glanced down at the blonde. "I'm yours for an hour."
He led her further into the crowd, and soon they were out of earshot. Zach stood, rolled his shoulders, and pocketed his camera. He'd got what he needed -- now to figure out how to leverage that information to his advantage.
After he picked up some taffy from the stand. That was a perk from the seaside -- delicious saltwater taffy.
Part Two
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Zacharias Smith/Astoria Greengrass
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 13,300
Warnings: None
Summary: A simple job turns complicated when the alcoholic, middle-aged bounty hunter and the divorced, spoiled socialite collide.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is JKR’s. No copyright infringement is intended, and no money is being made.
Author’s Notes: Written for the 2014 round of interhouse_fest. My love and thanks to carrie_leigh for the beta and feedback, and to baby_k21 for giving me a visual representation of Zach that is beyond perfect. The prompt is my favorite exchange of dialogue from The Musketeers -- I hope you enjoy it! ♥
The seedy office above No. 24 Knockturn Alley had seen its fair share of clientele. Drug runners, pimps, smugglers, thieves. On the rare occasion, honest folk looking to retrieve something a thief had stolen. Women with cheating husbands, husbands with cheating wives. Hell, he'd even had a member of the mafia come across the threshold.
But never before had Zacharias Smith's dingy little business seen a woman like Astoria Greengrass.
She looked out of place amongst the threadbare faux-leather chairs. His desk was dinged and littered with case files, stacked under half-finished cups of coffee and one not-so-discreetly hidden bottle of whiskey. Hell, even the location of his establishment -- above The Shady Lady, home of the best middle-aged exotic dancers this side of the Thames -- spoke volumes. Everything about his office screamed cheap, while the woman perched in the seat across from his desk was anything but.
In contrast, there was not a stitch out of place on Astoria Greengrass. Her robes were designer, her shoes and matching handbag made of Italian leather, and there wasn't a stitch of gray in her dark brown locks. She even smelled like high class -- Zach liked to pretend it was Eau d'Argent. Only the tiny wrinkles at the corners of her eyes hinted at her age.
What the hell did a woman like her need a man like him?
He cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair, which squeaked in protest. "I was surprised to get your owl, Mrs. Malfoy," he said by way of greeting. "Why don't you start by telling me why you might need my services."
She arched one imperious brow at him and fished a card from her purse. She placed it atop of stack of papers and withdrew her hand. Zach didn't reach for it; he knew what it was. His own business card. "Mr. Smith, I was assured you were the best in your field. Your knack for research, for one, and your ability to produce favorable results were two reasons I was assured it would be in my best interests to contact you. Are those statements out of line?"
Zach's lips curled. "Not at all. You want the best, you came to the right place."
Astoria's brown eyes were cool as her lips thinned. "Then I'm certain you did your homework before I arrived, Mr. Smith. Therefore, you know quite well I have not been Mrs. Malfoy in over eleven years."
His smirk grew, and he nodded in acknowledgement. He liked a woman with a bit of fire in her blood. "Touché, sweetheart. So, what's your problem? Cheating lover? Unruly house elf? Your accountant skimming your Gringotts account?"
"My business is of a very personal nature, and I do not appreciate your attempts at being glib," she replied icily. Her grip on her handbag tightened, knuckles going white. "My... my contact promised me that you were the best. That despite your faults, you were the person to go to. Were they wrong?" she challenged. "For if so, I will walk out right this second."
Merlin, women. Wound tight as a fiddle, and this one certainly didn't have a sense of humor. Zach held up his hands in appeasement. "Listen, I'm sorry. Didn't mean to set you off, Ms. Greengrass. Whatever your problem is, I'm the man for the job." He reached out for his card and flicked it in his fingers, showcasing the embossed lettering.
"Yes, I read it several times. 'Zacharias Smith. Bounty Hunter.'" The brunette's gaze flickered to meet his. Her lips gave a faint twitch. "An interesting title, to be sure."
He shrugged. "You got a job, I'll do it. Don't much care what it is. My only stipulation is complete honesty. I ask you a question about this job, you answer it. Got it? You sign a contract, and I don't give a damn what the hell you do. But if it involves this case, it's my business." Zach thought his little schpiel sounded impressive enough. He gave her an arch look for emphasis. "And don't question my methods. They get the job done. Is that clear?"
"Your two stipulations are clear as crystal," she retorted. "As long as you agree to my stipulations."
"Please, darling, enlighten me."
Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't comment. "I require complete and utter discretion," she began in a tone that Zach recognized all too well. It was a tone that said fuck with me at your own peril. "If I see a word of anything we discuss in the newspaper or gossip rags, I will see you in court so fast your head will spin. And trust me, you will not like that outcome."
Zach was sure he wouldn't. She likely had a team of barristers at her beck and call, who'd wring him dry -- and he didn't have that many Galleons to begin with. "Understood, Ms. Greengrass. Everything you say to me stays between us. Even if you leave this room without signing a contract, I will not take what you say to me today to the papers. You have my word."
She looked as though she were unsure of that, and he supposed he couldn't blame her. Still, he was a man of honor -- slightly tarnished as it was. Finally, she nodded. "Fine. Where should I begin?"
"The beginning of the story always helps, sweetheart."
Her glare was piercing. "Thank you for that helpful tip, Mr. Smith." Astoria took a breath to calm herself, then another before she began to tell her story. "As I'm sure you're aware, Draco and I share a son, Scorpius. He is a year from reaching his majority."
Sixteen years old. Just as his research had told him. Zach indicated she should continue.
"Have you heard of the Brothers of Cassiopeia?"
"A bit," he admitted. "Isn't it another private group of purebloods, longing for world domination and whatnot?" While he didn't necessarily disagree with such sentiments, he'd seen enough fighting and whatnot during school. Zach liked keeping his head buried firmly in the sand when it came to such matters, thank you very much.
"It's a bit more serious than that. They fashion themselves the next batch of Death Eaters. From what I've heard, all they lack now is new Dark Lord to lead them." She paused. "I have heard rumors they've approached my son."
Rumors? "Not to be blunt, Ms. Greengrass," he started with every intention of being blunt anyway, "why are you here? Why not just ask your kid if he's angling for the job?"
She laughed, but there was no amusement in the sound. "Do you have children, Mr. Smith?"
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I'm not a father."
"Then you wouldn't understand. My son is a teenager. To him, the most embarrassing person at this moment in the world is his mother."
"Then what about his father?"
Astoria pursed her lips. "Draco and Scorpius are on somewhat acrimonious terms. My son might be the heir, but he is not the most beloved child in the family."
It was Zach's turn to raise a brow. "Your ex-husband has three sons by his new wife. Isn't the oldest of those his heir?"
"It was a term of the divorce. Draco would not have to pay alimony or child support as long as Scorpius remained heir to the Malfoy estate. I don't give a whit how many sons my ex-husband fathers, nor on whom he fathers them. My son keeps his rightful inheritance."
Touchy. "Right. Great, so. What's the job? Find out if Scorpius is involved in this Brotherhood thing and report back?"
"Find out if he's involved, or if he's been approached. Ensure no matter what, he does not join or even entertain the notion." Astoria's eyes were hard as she fixed him with a look. "I will not give Draco any excuse to disinherit Scorpius."
"Done." With a wave of his wand, a scroll of parchment flew from a cabinet. The words of the contract magically filled in the blanks, drawing out the terms of their agreement alongside Zach's usual retainer fee. "And the end date for our agreement?"
She thought for a moment. "He's home for the summer holiday. Given it is early June, I want this matter settled by the time the train departs for school on September first."
"That's less than three months," he reminded her. "You want a rush job, that'll cost you."
"How much?"
He threw out an outlandish sum. Astoria didn't even blink. "Agreed." Taking the quill from his outstretched hand, she glanced over the wording, then signed her name in the indicated spots.
He grinned and rolled the scroll up. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you, sweetheart. I'll be in touch soon."
"Mr. Smith, I'm sure along the way, someone told you such terms of endearments were charming. They're not." She rose from her seat and gave him a curt nod in dismissal. "I look forward to your progress."
*~*~*~*~*
Research was dull work. Zach was sure some biddies -- like Granger and her ilk -- got a thrill from it, but it put him to sleep without at least three cups of coffee. In his line of work, though, research eventually paid off, and it paid well. If he finished this job, he'd have enough in his vault to do whatever he wanted. Maybe he'd go on holiday.
Until then, he was committed to Scorpius Malfoy. Lucky him.
For the third time in thirty minutes, Zach flipped open the file he'd compiled on the extended Malfoy family.
SCORPIUS HYPERION MALFOY
• DATE OF BIRTH - April 14, 2006
• HOGWARTS HOUSE - Slytherin
FATHER: Draco Malfoy - age 42
MOTHER: Astoria Greengrass - age 40
DIVORCED: January 25, 2011
FATHER REMARRIED: October 1, 2012
STEP-MOTHER: Miranda Montgomery - age 36
HALF SIBLINGS:
• Orion
• Pollux
• Castor
• Lyra
He flicked idly through the photos attached to the information, paying little attention to the four younger Malfoys. Zach's mother had walked out on his family while Zach was in primary school, and he hadn't heard from her since. His father never talked about her, but Zach imagined she'd found a better husband -- his old man was a hardass. It was easier than he liked to sympathize with Scorpius Malfoy’s behavior.
Then again, he thought as he examined a picture of Astoria Greengrass, taken at a recent society function, he wasn't sure Malfoy had upgraded -- at least in the looks department. Miss Greengrass might have a few more years on the new Mrs. Malfoy, but she was still an attractive woman. There were several pictures of her in his file, all compiled from the gossip and society columns. Lots of parties, lots of short, sparkly dresses, and she had different men on her arm at each one.
So. The kid had a father who'd made a replacement family, a mother who -- on the surface -- was less than attentive, and zealots looking to set him up as lord and master of the universe. It wasn't hard to see why that'd be attractive to a sixteen year old.
As for Scorpius himself, his file wasn't exactly thrilling to read. A Slytherin like his parents, Chaser on the house Quidditch team, school prefect. His grades were alright; a few marks down from top of the class, but he was far from the bottom. His little group of friends was comprised of familiar names: Zabini, Nott, Montague, Flint. New generation, same snot-nosed elitist twats.
It'd been three weeks since Astoria Greengrass had contracted his services. Since then, his life had been all Malfoy, all the time -- and that was not something he was best pleased about. For one, Scorpius Malfoy was a teenager. And secondly, he was a boring teenager. He shopped in Diagon Alley. He went to Quidditch matches, spent a weekend in France with his mates. Once, he'd even seen him taking the younger of his half-siblings for ice cream.
That alone should have discredited his Future Dark Lord standing.
But every two or so days, he disappeared. Zach hadn't been able to pinpoint where he went -- and he was damn good at tracking people. Yet a sixteen year-old shit of a kid kept slipping out from underneath him. It was never for very long -- an hour, at the most, and then he'd reappear as if nothing had happened.
Whatever he was hiding, he took it more seriously than the Brothers of Cassiopeia.
He'd followed Little Lord Fauntleroy to two meetings so far, held most covertly in the back room at Borgin and Burkes. For a future society of evil, they weren't the most inconspicuous lot. They might as well hang a sign in the front window: "Future Death Eaters, Unite!" Scorpius had stayed after the meetings, departing after speaking with an older gentleman Zach only knew by reputation: Barnabas Gallowglass. One of those "suspected, but never proven" acolytes of You Know Who. From what he could tell, Barnabas wasn't the loudest supporter, but he was certainly one of the more important ones.
Zach shook his head. Focusing on the Brothers would get him nowhere. He'd bet his prize Firebolt XXX broom (only legal in several small Middle Eastern countries) that the key to breaking Scorpius Malfoy lay in his disappearing act. Something -- or someone -- was behind his odd behavior. And gods be damned, Zacharias Smith would find out.
*~*~*~*~*
As a general rule, Zach didn't enjoy being out and about in the morning sunshine before ten a.m. He was something of a night owl. He didn't like the sunshine, or leaving his bed before he was damned good and ready. He'd had an evening visitor that night, and while that would normally put him in a jolly mood for the day ahead, Heidi hadn't exactly been quiet when leaving his flat in the early hours of the morning. She'd clambered about like an elephant, departing around six, and he'd been unable to get back to sleep.
So here he was at his favorite newsstand. Or, whatever passed for his favorite newsstand. It was the most convenient to Diagon from Muggle London -- just inside the portal from The Leaky Cauldron, and the proprietor usually threw in a pack of cigarettes with his magazines.
"Your usual?"
His cup of coffee in his hand, Zach nodded and fished a few coins out of his pocket. He tossed them to the man inside the newsstand in exchange for the glossy publications. "Cheers."
Nazir just smirked and lit up a cigarette. "You know, you are the only man I have who ignores the Morning Prophet and buys the gossip rags. You are a strange man, Zacharias Smith."
"Prophet's full of tossers," he answered idly, flipping through Witch Weekly to the society pages. "This is as good a research as any I can find."
And there she was, on the first page of the Society Section. Astoria Greengrass, posing for the cameras at some function. The woman in the photo looked at him, but did not smile before she turned to a different camera. It ran on a loop. Every time the photo of Astoria looked at it, it was like she was looking straight through him.
Beneath her photo, the caption read, "Astoria Greengrass poses on the red carpet before the Witches' Council annual charity ball. Ms. Greengrass, wearing a one of a kind Delacour gown, is a member of the Council and patroness of this year's charity, The Art of Elysium."
He flipped to the next page. And there, in his aging glory, was Astoria's ex-husband. "Summer holidays means time with family! Draco and Miranda Malfoy attend the Ballycastle versus Falmouth match with their four children, Orion, Castor, Pollux, and Lyra." Malfoy's hairline was receding, Zach noted with satisfaction as he patted his own head full of sandy blonde hair. (If it was going a bit gray around the temples, no one really noticed all that much).
It was stretching the truth a bit thin to call the gossip rags 'research' in this particular case. It was unlikely he'd see a columnist waxing poetic about Scorpius Malfoy, and everything he'd read in today's magazine was nothing he didn't already know. The Malfoys lived a lifestyle Zach himself knew little about. They were refined, polished, and had enough money to bury their enemies under gold.
Pursuing a woman like Astoria Greengrass was idiotic. What the hell was he on about? Of course he wasn't pursuing her. Thinking about her naked, yes. Wanking off to her picture? Maybe. (It wasn't a fact he was proud of). It didn't matter -- he wasn't the marrying -- or dating -- type. Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am. That was his speed.
"May I get a copy of the Financial Times and the Morning Prophet, please?"
Zach jumped at the sweet sounding voice behind him, cursing when he banged his head on the side of the newsstand. Behind him, Nazir snickered at his less than smooth move, but the young woman was concerned. "Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to startle you."
"S'alright," he ground out. It was his own damn fault. He hadn't been paying attention to anything else. He'd not expected to see her. Not here, at least.
The blonde peered at him. "Mr. Smith? Are you sure you're alright?" When he managed to nod, she smiled and held out her hand. "I don't know if you remember me. I'm Felicity MacDougal, Mr. Macmillan's assistant."
"I remember," he answered gruffly. He reached out and shook her hand briefly, dropping it as if her touch burned him. "Nice to see you."
"You as well." Her gaze dropped to the magazines in his hand, and she giggled. Giggled at him. "Looking for the best facial mask?"
"What? Oh. Erm, it's for work." Zach hastily shoved the magazines in his bag, pointedly ignoring Nazir behind him. The man was having far too much entertainment at his expense.
Felicity smiled and handed Nazir a few coins, taking her papers and tucking them beneath her arm. "Well, I best get off to work, too. Nice seeing you again, Mr. Smith!"
He managed to grit out a garbled reply. Her bright smile was burning in his mind as she left the two men at the newsstand, humming happily and a jaunt in her step. He had to stop himself from following her, even though he knew her morning routine by heart. A cup of coffee, picked up from the cafe by her flat. She'd grab her papers from Nazir, then head to the Ministry for another day's thrilling work. Zach normally timed his own visits to the newsstand to happen after she'd already departed, but he'd lost track of time.
"And this, this is why you have no woman," the newsman said in heavily accented English. "You do not have the moves to attract them."
"Oh, piss off, Nazir."
*~*~*~*~*
When he'd sent an owl to Astoria asking to meet her, he hadn't expected her to invite him into her home. He'd thought they might meet at a coffee house, or maybe at a bar -- he wouldn't have said no to a pint of ale, despite the morning hour -- or some place in public.
Of course, she likely didn't want to be seen with him. She had a reputation to maintain, or some rot like that.
Whatever her reasoning, it was no skin off his back. As he lingered in the foyer of the Greengrass home, he had to repress the urge to reach out and knock gilded mirror crooked. The black and white marble floor shone from its most recent polishing, and the rest of the room was decorated in complimentary shades of black, white, and silver. The entire home -- including its location; a posh street in Belgravia -- screamed money.
And if that weren't enough, the disapproving house elf hovering in the corner sealed the deal. The Hogwarts house elves had at least been discreet. This one looked as if its main job was making sure he didn't pocket any Greengrass family heirlooms during his visit.
The click clack click of heels on marble reached his ears, followed by a familiar voice stating, "Mr. Smith." Zach turned to face his current client, his ever-present smirk tugging at his lips. "Ms. Greengrass," he greeted with a slightly sardonic nod. His gaze flickered approvingly over the petite woman. Here, he was seeing her in her natural habitat, with the trappings of her status surrounding her. Her green dress clung to her curves, but not even a murderous pair of high heels could bring her close to his height. The top of her head barely reached his chin.
"Please," she said, gesturing for him to follow her, "come with me. We may speak in my study. Bitsy, we'll take tea."
Astoria didn't wait for him to acknowledge her, but Zach followed. As they walked down the corridor, his gaze kept bouncing between the paintings on the wall (all whispering fiercely to one another about the strange in their midst) to her pert arse. She really was a fetching woman.
Pushing those thoughts to the side -- he could think with his cock when he was off the clock -- he settled down beside her on the antique leather sofa. Astoria sat down in one of the facing guest chairs, eschewing the seat behind her polished ebony desk. Not a quill or paper was out of place there, which was a stark contrast to his own office.
For a moment, they sat in silence; her, waiting for him to say something, and him trying not to ogle the glimpse of cleavage showcased by the deep V of her dress. Finally, she spoke.
"What can I do for you today, Mr. Smith?"
There were many, many things she could do for him, starting with those lips she'd painted red... Zach shook himself out of that line of thought. "I've got a few questions for you about the job, about your son."
She raised a brow at him. "Yes?"
He settled back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other, resting his ankle on his opposite knee. "First, let's start by you telling me how you found out Scorpius had been approached by the Brothers. I'm just going to go out on a limb and assume he didn't tell you himself."
"Clearly, you don't have a teenage son," she answered dryly.
"We've already covered that base," he reminded her. "Not a father."
"In this case, you would assume correctly. One of Scorpius schoolmates, Sebastian, has also been approached by the Brothers to join their cause. And Sebastian's mother, Pansy, is one of my oldest friends. She overheard the two talking about it when Scorpius was visiting for the weekend, and she reported to me what she'd heard."
Zach tugged a battered notebook and pencil nubbin out of his jacket pocket and scribbled the names down. "Sebastian... Montague, yeah?"
Astoria hummed. "Mhmm. He and Scorpius are the same year at school."
So, Pansy Parkinson and Astoria Greengrass had been pregnant at the same time. He'd bet his one-bedroom flat both their husbands (or in Astoria's case, ex-husband) had developed heavy drinking problems during those nine months.
A pair of house elves, tea towels neatly pressed and tied over their shoulders, entered, pushing a small cart of tea and tiny finger sandwiches. They disappeared nearly as quietly as they'd arrived, and Astoria leaned forward to pick up the teapot. "How do you take your tea, Mr. Smith?"
His lips curled. "Got any whiskey?"
Her answering look was flat. "It's eleven o'clock in the morning."
Zach sighed. "Fine. A touch of honey, please." He accepted the tea from her and took a sip. Setting the delicate cup on the small table in front of him, he continued with his questions. "Does Scorpius have any problems with drugs or alcohol?"
She blinked dark brown eyes at him in surprise. "What? Don't be ridiculous. Of course he doesn't." She shook her head and sipped from her own tea. "My son does not experiment with those sorts of things."
"Begging your pardon, Ms. Greengrass," he said, "but you've already admitted your son isn't exactly open with you about his life. He's sixteen. Kids experiment at that age. I remember some good times in the prefects' bathroom at that age..."
Astoria held up one hand. "That's quite enough, Mr. Smith. I do not need to know about any debauchery you might have engaged in whilst at school. But I do know my son, and I truly do not believe he would dabble in any sort of illicit substances like that."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart," he muttered to himself. Judging by the pinched look on her face, his muttering hadn't been quite soft enough.
"Mr. Smith," she said crisply, setting her tea down hard enough on its saucer he thought she might shattered the porcelain, "I know you must think me some idle-brained socialite, who left her child to be raised by his nanny elf for most of his formative years while she hopped from glittering party to party, enjoying the company of a different man every night. For the most part, you wouldn't be far from wrong. I have not been the most involved mother I could have been, and I will never forgive myself for that."
She paused and set the saucer back on the tea service, and Zach could see her hands were trembling. "But I truly love my son more than anything or anyone else, and I will not see him throw his life away. I saw far too much of that go around the last time. I cannot bear to go through that again."
"I didn't mean to cause offense, Ms. Greengrass." She'd hit the nail square on the head; that was what he'd thought of her. He wasn't so callous as to say it to her face, though. He quite liked the promise of a paycheck at the end of the job.
He'd never been accused of an excess of professionalism, though.
"Intent is irrelevant, Mr. Smith," her tart reply stated, and he couldn't find it in him to argue.
Zach shrugged. "Well, I apologize anyway."
She studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "Your apology is accepted. What further questions might I answer for you?"
There were more questions he wanted to ask her, but they could wait. He'd already set her off enough for one morning, and none of them were of the make-or-break type. "Just one more, then I'll get out of your hair. I've been tailing your son for several weeks now, and I've noticed a pattern. Every two days or so, he vanishes."
"He's sixteen." Astoria wore a look of slight disbelief. Her tone held a hint of mockery, and she queried, "How does a sixteen year old just vanish?"
He shrugged. "Beats me. He'll disappear for an hour, maybe two. Then he's back like nothing happened. It's a long shot, I know, but do you have anyDamn it.
*~*~*~*~*
For a sixteen year-old Dark Lord in training, Scorpius Malfoy wasn't half bad at subterfuge. He was evasive, secretive, and harder to track than half the adults Zach had tailed over the course of his career. The biggest puzzle was just what he was hiding.
It should have been his involvement with the Brothers. That was the logical thing to hide, right? Yet Zach had tailed him strolling through Knockturn Alley several times over the past two months for late night meetings at Borgin and Burkes. He was less than inconspicuous, even with his hood pulled up to mask his platinum blonde hair.
No, the Brothers of Cassiopeia was definitely not Scorpius Malfoy's secret.
What had once been a simple job -- take the money, do the job, get more money -- was morphing into something more for Zacharias Smith. For one thing, he would not be outsmarted by some smarmy, privileged teenager. He didn't give a damn if Scorpius Malfoy tattooed the Dark Mark on his face and decided to prance down Diagon Alley in nothing but his underpants; come hell or high water, Zach was going to figure out what his secret was.
And then, he would finish the job. Maybe he'd be able to take his mind off Astoria Greengrass once it was over.
It was maddening. He'd never wanted for the company of women, regardless of whether he paid for that pleasure or not. He'd been told he was "ruggedly handsome," in a "bad, bad man" sort of way. His sandy blonde hair was starting to turn gray around his temples, but his face was untouched -- save for a rogue curse scar cutting through his left eyebrow. He kept himself physically fit (or at least fit enough so his drinking habits didn't lead to a paunch belly), enough so that he could have a different woman a night if he wanted.
So why could he not stop thinking about Astoria?
He was an idiot. That was what anyone would say. To any sane, rational person, she was the last woman in the world he should want. To start, she was his employer -- a fact she'd made perfectly clear several times during their meetings. She had a whole baggage trolley worth of issues, terrible taste in husbands, and more gold than she could spend in five lifetimes. Purity of blood or not, the likes of Ms. Greengrass wouldn't be caught dead sullying herself with the likes of him.
That didn't stop him from thinking about her naked, though. Fuck.
He needed a woman. Something to get her off his mind. Maybe he'd give Heidi a call tonight, if she was free after her shift again. A quick tumble between the sheets ought to help clear his mind, or at least relieve some of the pressure building in his bollocks.
Pushing all thoughts of Astoria Greengrass and her slender body from his mind, Zach focused on the task at hand. He'd followed Little Lord Fauntleroy from London to a small town in Surrey. Warlingham had a sparse wizarding population and no discernible reason for Scorpius Malfoy to take the Floo there. Yet here he was, strolling down the High Street as if he didn't have a care in the world.
When he ducked into the small post office, Zach's curiosity was officially piqued. What sort of pureblood used the Muggle post?
Waving a hand in front of a passing woman's face, he was assured his Disillusionment Charm was firmly in place when she didn't react. Striding across the street, he peered in the window. The little Malfoy had pulled a small key from his pocket and unlocked one of the for-rent postage boxes. Zach watched as he pulled a small postcard from inside and flipped it over to read the writing.
Scorpius smiled to himself, then stuffed the postcard in a rubbish bin. He glanced around hurriedly, as if to check for others watching, then he pushed out of the post office and set off down the street.
Zach didn't waste any time. Slipping inside before the door could close. The small front room was empty save for an elderly lady purchasing stamps and the postmaster helping her, neither of them paying the slightest bit of attention to the neglected bin in the corner.
Kneeling down next to it, he rifled his hand through discarded scraps of paper and envelopes. Merlin, but he didn't understand teenagers. Any nitwit with half a brain knew the Ministry couldn't track magic by underage users if done in a high concentration of other wizards -- such as his bloody home. If there was something he was going through such great lengths to hide, then it would make much more sense to burn the bloody missive.
Or Hell, toss it in the fire. He took back his previous thoughts about Malfoy's aptitude at subterfuge. On this score, he failed miserably.
His fingers closed around a postcard at the bottom of the bin, and his lips curled in triumph. Gotcha, you wee bastard. Straightening, he bit back a groan at the strain on his knees. Maybe he needed a massage after this was over, to ease his aching back.
Merlin, he was getting old.
His gaze dropped to the postcard.
S,
Two p.m. on Tuesday, Brighton pier. I miss you.
Love,
T
Son of a bitch. So that was his dirty little secret.
Scorpius Malfoy was hiding a girlfriend -- or a boyfriend; Zach wasn't judging. Whoever he or she was, he was going through a lot of trouble to keep it all a secret.
*~*~*~*~*
He'd never liked the seaside. Too many children, too much noise, and Zach hated sand. Loathed it with an intensity typically reserved for sadistic Hogwarts professors named Umbridge and the Montrose Magpies. Sand in his shoes, in his swimming trousers, and all in his bits for weeks afterwards. What sort of person would willingly subject themselves to this sort of torture, he had no idea. Just for this, he'd have to pick up some sweets before he went back to London. Candy floss, maybe, or taffy. Maybe an ice cream.
He'd arrived an hour ago and planted himself at a bench just inside the pier's entrance. He'd traded his robes and typical garb for a pair of short trousers, Manchester United t-shirt, and worn boat shoes. With his sunglasses on, he looked the picture of a typical Muggle tourist. He didn't like Muggles, but he'd learned early on in his career the benefits of posing as one. It made him wish he'd paid more attention in Muggle Studies during school -- joke of a course that had been.
Nothing to see here, little Malfoy. Just go about your business.
A book sat open in his lap. He hadn't read it -- he'd grabbed it from a pile collecting dust in his flat. Zach hadn't opened a book since he'd left school, and he had no intentions of changing that. If someone was really looking, they'd see his 'pleasure' book was really an old Lockhart book left over from his second year. Travels with Trolls, he noted as he glanced down at the title. Had he even read that one when it was required? Maybe he'd begged the notes off Finch-Fletchley from that one. Or filched them from his bag. They'd covered that one before the bloke had been Petrified, right?. Or maybe Susan had helped him out.
He could reminisce about Hogwarts later, if he wanted -- and he really didn't'. His eyes were alert, though, as he scanned the throngs of people. Brighton Pier was a big place. The note hadn't been specific, but it stood to reason Scorpius Malfoy would have to walk by him. The nearest connection on the Floo Network was in a pub about five blocks away, and he wasn't licensed to Apparate yet. Taking a Portkey was out -- he'd checked with a connection in that particular office, and there weren't any Portkeys arriving or departing from Brighton that day.
Of course, there was the possibility Malfoy could make his own Portkey. Nah. The kid was smart, but he wasn't that smart. No, he'd Floo in and walk the rest of the way.
Zach glanced down to check his watch. Two o'clock on the dot.
And there, right on time, was Scorpius Malfoy.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his camera -- one of his more brilliant purchases, he had to admit. It looked like a Muggle mobile phone, but it took high quality magical photos. Nothing like those gigantic cameras the photographers at the Prophet fooled around with. This was small, portable, and perfect for jobs like this. He could print the pictures later, and it would just look like he was a normal Muggle poking at the screen.
"Scorpius!"
His head jerked up in time with Malfoy's as a small girl wiggled through the crowd. Zach watched as she ran across the worn wooden boards to the teenager and flung her arms around his neck. Girlfriend. He couldn't hear what they were saying to each other, but he could read their lips. I missed you. He pressed the button and took a rapid series of pictures.
Scorpius and mystery blonde girl hugging.
Scorpius and mystery blonde girl kissing.
Scorpius taking the mystery blonde girl's hand and lacing their fingers together.
The pair walked toward Zach, and he hurriedly glanced down at his lap. He poked at the screen a few times, his eyes rolling up to track their movements as they walked passed him.
"Mummy won't notice I'm gone for an hour. Can you stay that long?"
"For you I can." Scorpius glanced behind him, as if expecting there to be someone tailing him. Down here, little Malfoy. No, not back there, down here. Satisfied he wasn't being tailed -- idiot -- Scorpius glanced down at the blonde. "I'm yours for an hour."
He led her further into the crowd, and soon they were out of earshot. Zach stood, rolled his shoulders, and pocketed his camera. He'd got what he needed -- now to figure out how to leverage that information to his advantage.
After he picked up some taffy from the stand. That was a perk from the seaside -- delicious saltwater taffy.
Part Two