Remain Nameless

Chapter 4

Wednesday, May 2, 2007

She never showed.

Draco frowned into his coffee and consulted his watch again. He tried to remember if she'd said anything yesterday about not being able to meet this morning. Maybe she was sick? Surely even Granger took a sick day every once in a while.

When it became too late for him to wait around any longer, lest he actually be tardy to work, Draco huffed in irritation and left. He practically stomped all the way to work despite the weather being particularly temperate and sunny. He brushed past his boss with a cursory grunt of "morning," before continuing his stomp parade to his office.

"Malfoy?" his boss poked his head around his door. Fuck, maybe he had been too short with him.

"Sir?"

"Aren't you meant to be observing Puddlemere's reserve squad for free agents today?"

Draco blanched. Fucking fuck. He'd completely forgot he was supposed to apparate straight there 15 minutes ago.

"Oh, erm, yes sir, I just realized.... I forgot... one of my reports.... I'm heading there now." Draco was never late. What the hell had he been thinking?

"Are you feeling all right?"

Bellamy Wright-Johnson did not often inquire about the personal lives or feelings of his employees, so Draco knew he must look like an absolute horror-show this morning. After waving off his boss once more, Draco was on his way and apparated to the Puddlemere practice pitch.

For the rest of the morning and through the afternoon, Draco lost himself in his favorite game. Quidditch kept every one of his senses busy as he observed the fast-flying players, zooming around and above him while he jotted down observations and consulted last season's stats. The quidditch season officially kicked off next weekend and the team managers and coaches had until midweek to solidify their starting rosters and reserve players.

The quidditch world was an ideal place for someone with a murky history like Draco Malfoy to seek gainful employment. No one gave a shite about your background or surname so long as you cared about the sport, were knowledgeable, and filed decent recommendations to teams about recruitment and retention. Especially if you were as adept as Draco was at figuring out the best rosters for specific players.

And despite the satisfaction he felt, Draco was unnerved that all it took was for Granger to no-show that morning to completely throw him off. He didn't know how to reconcile the fact that it seemed to be the only thing getting him out of bed in the morning. I am in control of this.

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Thursday, May 3, 2007

Draco had slept poorly last night. He had dreamt about the night he had taken the Dark Mark on his arm. A burning sensation like he'd never experienced in his whole life coursed through his arm and spread to the rest of his body. And he remembered as he jerked awake and clutched at his arm, how that was the one time in his life that he had seen a look of fear in his mother's eyes. It was only for a few seconds, then the smooth, impassive mask was back in place. But Draco never forgot the look in Narcissa Malfoy's eyes as her only child had a dark symbol burned into his skin by a mad man.

His reflection showed all the hallmarks of a shitty night of sleep. Despite spending all of yesterday out in the sun, he was starting to resemble the Bloody Baron: gaunt, deathly pale, purple-gray bags under his eyes. Maybe he'd start an argument with Granger today about pixies just to feel something this morning.

If she shows at all. She doesn't owe me a thing.

Draco pursed his lips and tried not to once again think about how the Muggleborn witch had wormed her way into his daily work week routine.