Baton Rouge

- 6 -

Draco sat in his office, holding his head. He couldn't believe Blaise had gotten him so drunk he was hung over today. Bloody hell. Plus he had met Granger – to top off this fateful evening. He hadn't thought of her for years, and yesterday of all days, when he first had wondered what had become of her, he ran into her in a brothel. Nobody would believe him. Not to mention that of course Draco wouldn't talk to anyone about it. Even Blaise had looked at him in disbelief when he had told him who he had met at the bar.

"Are you sure you didn't confuse her with somebody?" Blaise had asked, raising an eyebrow laconically. "Maybe all that naked skin went to your head." While Blaise had thought himself hilarious, Draco had snorted and stood up in anger.

„It's not a joke, Blaise. I may not have seen Granger for a while, but I recognize her when she's in fucking front of me. Besides, we talked to each other. And now I'm going home", Draco had hissed and blindly thrown two Galleons on the table in front of him. He had been so upset that he hadn't even realized it had been more than double on what Blaise had spent on them the entire evening. Luckily for him, Blaise hadn't made the mistake of following him.

So here he was, trying in vain to focus on the report he had just found on his desk. It was bad enough that he was in the office hungover on a Sunday - he should at least be working. The report was a first transcript of the ongoing search for evidence in Potter's last hideout, but Draco's mind kept wandering elsewhere.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when the office door opened and someone stopped right in front of him. Confused, he lifted his head and looked straight into Blaise's dark blue eyes.

"You should get into the habit of knocking," Draco said sullenly.

"I knocked. You just didn't hear it, or ignored it, I'm not entirely sure." Blaise placed a paper cup of fresh coffee in front of Draco on the dark wood of the desk, then shoved his hands in his pockets. "Have you calmed down?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Apart from the fact that my skull feels Bombarda'd, yes," Draco grumbled and took a sip of coffee. He immediately flinched and moaned softly while pressing the burned tip of his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Fuck."

He shot a murderous look at Blaise, who had started chuckling softly. Unfortunately, Draco could never stay mad at his friend for long, so after a few seconds of self-control a small grin crept onto his face as well. "Maybe it's just not my day. Or my week." Blaise nodded in agreement.

There was silence between them for a moment and Draco sighed and stirred his coffee. Then he considered asking Blaise the question that had been bothering him ever since he woke up. He gave the black haired bloke a quick look that he didn't seem to notice. Instead, Blaise stared out the window, lost in thought. It took Draco a few more seconds before he finally took a deep breath and opened his mouth.

"What you said about the... the dancers yesterday," he began cautiously, clearing his throat and noticing that Blaise was now looking at him with interest. "That's why Granger is doing this, isn't it?" He tried to lean back in his chair in a deliberately relaxed manner, but couldn't quite manage.

When Blaise merely nodded, Draco felt his dark presumptions confirmed.

"You mean... she has to do it because she's a Mudblood?" he whispered, swallowing hard once more. Because the Dark Lord had won. Because they were hunting Potter and there was no one left to fight all of this.

"Correct. Why do you care?" Blaise looked at him suspiciously and Draco shrugged.

"Just wanted to know. Yesterday morning I happened to be wondering what had become of her and when I actually saw her that evening it felt pretty unreal. Pure chance. Whatever, she would've been better off if she had died back then." He formed the words effortlessly, even though he was aware it was an outright lie.