Baton Rouge

- 3 -

"There you are."

Blaise raised his hand, grinning, and Draco thread his way through the crowded tables. Hell, it wasn't usually that busy in here. He dropped onto one of the empy benches in the booth Blaise had chosen and shook his hand in greeting.

"It really is a miracle that you're still in such a good mood," he murmured with a sigh and reached for the menu floating above the table as Blaise sat back in amusement.

Blaise Zabini had been one of Draco's best friends in their senior years at Hogwarts and they had maintained the relationship ever since. Also, since they both worked in the same department and on the case of The Undesirable, it made sense for Draco to get on well with the black-haired half-frenchman. (Quite apart from the fact that Blaise was mostly a pleasant and witty conversationalist and always created a good atmosphere when they were together.) But now Draco came to note that Blaise's expression was a little shifty.

"I've already ordered," Blaise announced promptly, snatching the menu back from Draco's hand, "a wonderful bottle of Firewhisky. I thought, that would definitely be in your interest today." He grinned again and Draco sat back.

Blaise had managed to lift his spirits in a matter of seconds, knowing what Draco liked and what he needed most at this very moment. Around Blaise he felt comfortable, and at times his manner was actually contagious. Even now he felt the tension falling from him. Maybe it would be a good evening. So, for the time being, he suppressed the thought of tomorrow.

"Sounds good," he finally admitted, and Blaise looked impudently smug. It wasn't long before the waitress came with the tray and placed two glasses and a bottle of Firewhisky in front of them.

„Thanks," Draco said curtly, helping himself to some. Then he sighed and lifted his glass, sipping and glancing at Blaise.

"Have you read the Prophet?" he finally asked, because he couldn't help himself and the subject couldn't be completely avoided between the two of them either. Blaise's face darkened and therefore already answered Draco's question.

"Obviously. It's a shame that something like that gets even printed. You'd think the Ministry couldn't afford bad propaganda anymore - and then an article of that kind hits the front page and the whole world knows."

Draco sighed, because he'd had the very same thoughts. As always, he and Blaise were of one mind. And with reason.

"I'd like to nail the journalist who wrote that shit," Blaise growled.

"I talked to Umbridge," Draco informed him, and Blaise instantly forgot his anger and leaned forward in interest. He put on a questioning expression, but Draco didn't have much to report.

"The usual, of course." He shrugged and Blaise ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. "She doesn't make long speeches; just tells you in a nutshell that you screwed up. I think if we bodge it again, I'll really have a problem. I'm first on her hit list." Draco scowled, and they sat in mutual silence for a few minutes.

"Then we just have to prevent that," Blaise said with a determined expression and threw a quick look out of the window at the dark street. There weren't many people strolling. "The Pursuit Squad is back on the case. We started our research today and next time we'll have better luck. Then we'll send the whole team after him. He won't get away from us once more."

Draco nodded, although he wasn't entirely convinced by Blaise' words. He wasn't sure anymore if Potter didn't actually have some hidden powers they didn't know about. Likewise, he could have been receiving help from someone. A mole in their own ranks? Wouldn't be the first time. Traitors were always and everywhere, and certainly there were working enough people in the Ministry who still were well-disposed towards Potter. Draco would put his shirt on any of his team members, but definitely not on the former members of the Order. Perhaps their old underground movement still existed (although Umbridge continued to assert that was utterly impossible) and then Potter would have a solid base to trust.