Do You Have An Appointment?
Draco Malfoy – Nott Manor
Never let it be said that Draco wasn’t a good friend. He definitely is, because if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be standing in the parlour of Nott Manor, wondering if his best friend had lost his mind. Theo was a force to be reckoned with when he was in one of his moods, but Draco had no idea what had caused this particular meltdown.
He had been sitting in his study when he received Theo’s owl. He opened the window to retrieve the bit of parchment that contained three words written in a haphazard scrawl that said: “I need help.” So, naturally, Draco immediately rushed to his friend’s aid. Now though? Draco was regretting his decision to act instead of asking questions.
“Sit, sit, sit,” Theo said, pointing at the chaise next to the fireplace, as he paced and ran his hands through his already chaotic looking waves. Draco chose to stand instead, not knowing if he should try to talk the brunette down from whatever proverbial edge he was standing on.
“Nott, what’s going on?” a new voice entered the fray, and Draco looked over to see Blaise Zabini’s face in the hearth of the fire. He must’ve gotten the same owl, just after Draco did.
Theo sighed and rolled his eyes before bending down next to the fire, “At least Draco had the decency to come through the Floo, Blaise.”
Draco looked skyward, contemplating all of the choices that he had made to lead him to this point, and summoned a house elf. He asked the elf, Rogo, as Draco would later learn, for a bottle of Ogden’s Old and three glasses, then sat down as the elf popped away. The idiots stopped bickering long enough for Blaise to step through the flames before they started back up again. Rogo popped back into the parlour just as Blaise entered, set to work pouring each of the men a glass, and promptly left the same way he appeared. The crack of the elf’s apparition silenced the room.
Theo avoided their gazes as he resumed his pacing, now with a glass in his hand. The other two men in the room stayed silent, allowing their friend a second to collect himself and find his words before speaking. Draco sipped his glass, looking over the rim to Blaise, who was doing the same. They both looked to Theo, who had stopped pacing, and instead was facing the fireplace.
“I have a date,” Theo said, staring intently at the ornate piece carved into the wood of the mantle.
“And you need our help? For a date?” asked Blaise. Draco stayed silent, knowing there was more to it than that.
Theo continued as if Blaise hadn’t even spoken, “Do either of you remember Pansy’s stupid questionnaire? She brought it to me weeks ago! I had no idea this was where she was going with it! She said ‘Fill this out’ and so I did! Now I have a date!” his eyes were wild as he summoned a small bit of parchment and waved it around frantically. The blonde had no clue what questionnaire Theo was going on about, but he was curious now.
Draco stood and plucked the card from Theo’s wild hands and read: “The Light Bar, 6pm – 233 Shoreditch High St”. He flipped the card over: “Reservation for Parkinson”.
“So, in conclusion, you allowed Pansy to steamroll you into going along with her ideas, and now you’re paying the price?” Draco asked flippantly. Even though Pansy never approached him, he wasn’t going to let them know he’d been excluded. “I told her I wasn’t interested in her schemes. What about you, Blaise?”
Blaise shrugged, “She made me fill one out, but I haven’t heard anything for weeks. I just assumed she got what she needed.”
That made Draco pause. Why hadn’t he received a questionnaire? He looked to Theo with a furrowed brow, “Do you at least know who you’ll be meeting there? Or where ‘The Light Bar’ is? Is that Muggle London?”
“I’ve already asked Pansy! She refuses to tell me! She says it’s called a ‘blind date’, I think? Does that mean my date is blind?!” Theo started to mumble to himself and Draco motioned for Blaise to help their friend.
“Well boys, I think I’ll see myself out,” Draco sat his glass down on the end table closest to him. “I’ll just have to ask Parkinson myself.”
oOo
Draco Malfoy – Parkinson House Inc // Muggle London
Some of the pureblood elite had started to familiarise themselves with the muggle world and their technologies following the second Wizarding War. Even Draco himself frequented a few muggle eating establishments, but hadn’t done much more than that. He found out through Theo that Pansy had thrown herself into entrepreneurship, and established her headquarters in Muggle London of all places.
Draco walked from the nearest apparition point and came to a stop in front of a tall, dark brick building. The door in front of him wouldn’t give anyone any insight as to what they might find inside, perfectly discreet. He pulled the door open to reveal an elegant, tastefully decorated lobby. He would expect no less from Pansy, of course. He scanned the room with a scowl on his face, his gaze meeting the questioning eyes of the employee behind the front desk.
“Can I be of service to you, sir?” the man asked.
“I’m looking for Pansy Parkinson,” said Draco.
“Do you have an appointment?”
Draco was baffled. An appointment? Since when did he need an appointment to speak with Pansy? He approached the man, who was clacking away on what looked to be a board of buttons containing letters, sitting behind the desk, “I don’t need an appointment,” he said glaring at the man.
“Everyone needs an appointment, sir. Ms. Parkinson is a busy woman,” the employee seemed unfazed by his harsh glare, continuing to clack away. Draco looked down at the sleek tag pinned to the man’s shirt that read: William. He continued to glare at the desk clerk, wondering what he had to do to get the arse to call Pansy down. Then the man, William, looked up and sighed before he gestured to a chair in the main lobby. “Wait there,” he said as he picked up a telephone.
Draco followed the man’s instructions and sat in one of the chairs, but listened carefully while William spoke on the phone. “Ms.Parkinson? .. Yes, there's a guest in the lobby wanting to speak with you .. I didn’t catch his name .. He’s a pale, blonde fellow .. Yes, miss .. I’ll send him up.”
William didn’t even look up as he spoke to Draco, “Down the hall and immediately to your right, take the lift. Fifteenth floor.”
Draco didn’t waste any time rising from his seat and heading to the lift. Once inside, he pressed the button labelled “15” and felt the rumble as it began to move. He backed into the railing, clamping his hands around it as the electronic number above the door counted up to fifteen. He was still, decidedly, not fond of muggle machinery. Letting out a sigh of relief as he reached his destination, the door pulled back and Draco stepped out into what looked like another seating area. To his right, there were two closed doors and he had no idea which one Pansy was behind. Luckily, he didn’t have to guess, because one of the doors swung open and there she stood with her hands on her hips.
“I don’t have time for whatever it is you’re doing, Malfoy,” Pansy said as she walked back into her office. Draco followed.
“What do you do here?” Draco inquired as he looked around her office curiously. There was nothing in the office that would allow him to discern her profession, and he wondered why there was so much discretion. He took a seat in the chair facing her desk and crossed his legs as he continued, “Also, what is this questionnaire Theo and Blaise are nattering on about? Why didn’t I get one?”
Pansy looked him over, then replied, “I run a discreet matchmaking service tailored to both magical and muggle clientele.” She paused, “Those that can afford me, of course.” A silence lapsed as Draco waited for her to continue.
“I gave the questionnaire out to those idiots when I started the business to gain clients, they help with the final decision making, but the process is more extensive than that, I assure you. I assume you’ve met with Theo today? I found him a match and sent owls to the appropriate parties,” said the witch, lazily glancing at her nails.
“That still doesn’t answer all of my questions. I distinctly remember asking why I didn’t get one,” Draco said petulantly. He was slightly miffed at being left out, not that he had any desire to settle down anytime soon.
“I thought your father was entering into a betrothal contract with the Greengrass family. Astoria, correct?” Pansy asked, her brows pulling together as she tilted her head ever so slightly, showing her confusion.
Draco waved his hand at her, “That was dissolved months ago. It was in the Prophet. Is that really the only reason?”
“Draco, if I thought you were getting married, why would I try to give you a matchmaking questionnaire? ‘Is that the only reason?' Honestly,” she huffed and mumbled something about rakish wizards, to which Draco gave her a wide grin.
“Well, if that was the only reason, I’m here now,” said Draco, shrugging his shoulders.
“You, Draco Malfoy, want my services? You want a match?” Pansy scoffed. “Fine. But I’m not doing it for free.” She looked at him for a moment, then pursed her lips, “500 Galleons.”
“500 Galleons?! Are you barking?” Draco was affronted. Surely she was taking the piss, seeing as there was absolutely no way he was going to throw that kind of gold at her crackpot business venture.
“It’s not like you couldn’t afford it,” she dismissed him. “That’s quite alright with me, anyhow. Taking you on would be a hassle, but don’t run to me when all of your mates are paired off and you’re the only single one of the bunch. Close my door on your way out.”
Draco contemplated his next move, and considered his next words carefully. He looked her in the eyes and said, “Fine, consider it done. I’ll have the money moved to your vault this afternoon.”
Pansy stood and approached him, still sitting in the chair. She drew her wand and Draco flinched, “Oh, please do stop being so dramatic. This is a business. I’m not going to hex you in my office,” she said rolling her eyes. Then, she performed a diagnostic spell Draco himself was unfamiliar with and a quick-quotes quill scratched rapidly behind her at her desk.
“What are you doing, then?” he asked. He hadn’t seen anything like the magic she was using.
“I’m looking at the very essence of what makes you, well, you. And I think..” She trailed off, dropping the diagnostic and walking back behind her desk to sit. She rifled through a few files on her desk, selecting one and opening it. “Oh, yes,” she smirked. “I do, in fact, have a match for you, Draco Malfoy.”
“No questionnaire?” he asked, trying to get a look at the file in her hands. The file she held was charmed to keep out prying eyes. Bugger.
“I didn’t need it,” said Pansy, going back to the paperwork sitting on her desk. “You’re free to leave, Malfoy. Like I said earlier, close the door on your way out and expect an owl from me soon.”
Draco exited her office feeling like he caught a bludger to the head. He made his way to the lift, trying to shake himself out of the daze he felt like he was in.
It was only as he approached the nearest apparition point that he realised he never asked her about Theo’s date.