Ride or Die

Believe Me

Chapter 11: Believe Me

"Potter," Draco called without hesitation, striding into the restaurant. "I need you."

Potter cleared his throat, glancing up across the table at his companion while resolutely ignoring Draco. "He doesn't mean it how it sounds," Potter said carefully, wiping his mouth on a napkin. "He's just very dramatic."

"Potter!" Draco barked, ignoring the bristled look of confusion on the woman's face; he registered that Potter was probably on a date, but could not summon the effort to care. "I'm not fucking around here - "

"Malfoy," Potter cut in neutrally, finally glancing up at him. "How did you find me?"

"I have sources," Draco supplied ambiguously, pairing the statement with a contemptuous wave of his hand. "But again, I'm - "

"Parvati Patil, Draco Malfoy," Potter interrupted again, gesturing between them.

"Nice to meet you," the woman called Parvati said stiffly - and insincerely - and Draco, in response, barely managed a nod.

"Potter, listen," Draco said, stubbornly ignoring the stares he was garnering from around the room. "It gives me no pleasure whatsoever to be here - "

"Ah, good," Potter returned, picking up his glass of wine and shaking his head. "Excellent."

" - but I have a problem. It's about - " he paused, hesitating as he cast a tentative glance at Potter's skeptical dinner partner. "It's about what we talked about before," he determined, nodding briskly. "There's been an escalation."

"Mm," Potter remarked, looking smugly unsurprised. "Well, as you so unequivocally stated, you've clearly got it handled, so - "

"It wasn't against the club," Draco cut in, feeling a bristle of frustration that Potter would choose now to abandon his prior earnestness in the interest of smarmy condescension. "It was - it was Astoria," he said, his chest tightening painfully yet again at her name. "Daphne's sister."

At the sound of the familiar name, Potter's glass floated momentarily in the air as he paused in the act of replacing it. "Daphne," he echoed, swallowing, before glancing up at Draco. "How bad is it?"

"Bad," Draco managed, shutting his eyes briefly. "Astoria, she's - " he took a breath. "She's dead."

Potter inhaled sharply, resuming his motion so suddenly that the bottom of his glass crashed against the table with a startling lack of grace. "Why her?" he asked, shaking his head. "And why do you think it had anything to do with - "

"The car I asked you about," Draco interrupted, and Potter nodded slowly, his brow stitching together in troubled recognition. "The sedan. I was being followed that night."

Potter grimaced. "You should have said something," he murmured, with an underlying hint of admonishment.

"I didn't need you babysitting me," Draco shot back, but then quieted, remembering what he was there to do. "Sorry," he muttered. "I just - I thought that I had it under control."

"Why do you think it was - " Potter stopped, glancing at Parvati and clearing his throat before letting the name Greyback slip from his lips. "Why do you think it has anything to do with our last conversation?" he asked carefully.

"I just know," Draco insisted. "They left me a message. I just - " he glanced around the room. "I can't talk about it now. Or here," he added, gesturing to the people in the restaurant, including Potter's own date. "I can't."

"Has anyone been there?" Potter prompted. "Who was the responding officer?"

Draco swallowed heavily. "The police weren't contacted," he said, hoping Potter did not press the issue. "It - we took care of it. In house," he clarified, and Potter shook his head in disbelief.