The Battle at Black’s
“Can I bring anything for you, Lord Malfoy?” The server asked as Draco and Neville took their seats.
Draco raised his brow in question to the other man, but Neville differed to him to order. “Yes, We will take coffee and then brandy, I think would be nice.”
Neville smirked as he regarded his friend.
“What?” Draco asked, and he got more comfortable in the overstuffed leather sofa. “We are celebrating, are we not?”
“And what precisely are we celebrating?”
“Your marriage to my closest and dearest friend, of course.” Draco smiled as a man with a wooden box filled with fresh cigars stopped by the two men. Neville waved the manway opting for his pipe while Draco chose two fragrant cigars for himself.
“Ahh, yes, Pansy.” Neville began cleaning out his pipe, then filling it back up with fresh tobacco, and then lit it, taking a few puffs before continuing. “There is still the dinner with Lady Augusta to contend with. I would like to pretend she does not have the final say, only,”
“Not to worry, my friend. When she sees that Pansy makes you happy and that she comes with her fortune, she cannot refuse.” Draco snipped off the end of his cigar and took a few deep puffs to get the thing started. Draco wasn’t ordinarily much of a smoker, but if a man can’t light a cigar with his friend at Black’s, then what was the point?
Neville sat back on the sofa across from Draco and smiled. “I am the luckiest man alive, Malfoy. I cannot imagine spending a day without Pansy, and I cannot wait to be married to her.”
Draco could not be happier for his friend. Finally, pansy had indeed found a good man to love and respect her the way she deserved. There had been a time that Draco thought he might be able to love Pansy, but when he brought it up to the woman, a sharp bought of laughter and a shoe tossed at his head had put him back in his right mind.
“And she is lucky to have you, my friend.” And Draco meant it. He loved Pansy and would give her the world if she would let him. But such an independent woman would not be tied down by a man unless it was the right one. In recent years, Pansy had come into her own, establishing her worth and earning her own money through investments, thanks to Draco and his bank in Paris and Johannesburg. Giving her shares of the mines in South Africa under her name would never be something she would have asked for, which was why Draco gave them to her three years ago.
Pansy was intelligent and had a business sense that Draco knew could rival any man. She was cunning when needed and would take no ridicule from anyone. Which was why Drac was happy she and Hermione had gotten on so well. Two peas in a pod, those two.
“So, what about you?” Neville asked as he was handed the coffee Draco had ordered.
“What about me?” Draco responded.
Neville took a sip from the white china and smiled. “Are you going to play coy with me? I’m the one who covered for you last month, remember?”
Draco did remember.
Waking up with Hermione in his arms had been a gift from the gods. Her supple body curved into his; the wild chestnut hair was positively golden in the early morning sunlight. Draco wanted to be with her like that for all time. But as much Draco wanted her to stay with him, he wasn’t stupid. And there was nothing he would or wouldn’t do if it meant keeping his beautiful woman’s reputation intact.
“Yes, yes, alright.” Draco took a sip from his cup and put it on the table. “Thank you again, by the way. I cannot tell you what it means to me to put your reputation on the line. If I can ever repay you, please, name your price.”
Neville smiled again but waved off the offer. Draco knew he would never collect on such a debt. It wasn’t how Neville Longbottom operated. “So, what are you going to do about the fair, Miss. Granger?”
Draco finished off the last of his coffee and picked up the cigar, rolling it around between his thumb and fingers. “I have planted a few seeds, but I fear they won’t take root for a while.”
“Lord Malfoy, please excuse the interruption.” The manager of Black’s bowed courteously indeed sorry for the interruption.
“What is it, Mr. Carson?”
“Well, my Lord, that issue you and I discussed has shown earlier than you had anticipated.” Mr. Carson spoke softly. The gossip that could carry through a club was worse than any lady’s tea house. And was, at times, more vicious and cutting.
“Oh?” Draco smirked to himself, then schooled his face and took another puff on the cigar before answering. “Well, go ahead and let him in, Mr. Carson. But have your man stay close. He won’t be staying long.”
Draco tamped out the cigar in the tray and poured himself another coffee.
“Malfoy? What in blazes was that all about?” Neville asked, genuinely confounded.
“It would appear the garden I planted is beginning to take hold.”
“MALFOY!”
“Oh, my, he does sound angry, doesn’t he?”
“Malfoy, what is all this?” Neville asked as he tracked Ron Weasley stomping through the room.
“I had his membership revoked yesterday.”
“What?” Neville was shocked. “Why?”
“For several reasons, but mostly,” he stood to greet his irate guest. “because I could.”
“Malfoy, you dirty git,” Weasley said through gritted teeth. His bright red hair was disheveled like he had raked his hands through it out of frustration one too many times.
An older man sitting close to them reading a paper tried to hush him, but Weasley was too far gone. “Oh, same to you, old man.”
“Captain, I see you received my letter.” Draco held out his hand, but it was slapped away.
“YOUR letter? Why is it your letter? Tell me, Malfoy, how is it that you can cancel MY membership to this club? And on Black’s stationery?”
Draco sat down and crossed one foot over the opposite knee. “Very simple, captain. I own controlling share in the club now.”
The night before, he had signed the papers taking a controlling interest of the club, buying out a few of the board members and settling debts of a few of its members.
Debts, it would seem, Weasley owed and that he was not in a potion to pay back any time soon.
“I say, old man, you need to calm yourself.” Neville, still standing, tried to defuse the angry naval officer but to no avail.
“Oh sod it, Longbottom. Go back to your friend whore and stay out of this.” Weasley slapped his hand away then turned his attention back to Malfoy.
Draco stood quickly, all mirth gone, and took a step closer. “I suspended your membership because you were so far into debt that your grandchildren will still be paying off your notes. You were going to be asked to leave sooner rather than later. All I did was move up the timetable.”
“You think this will change anything? I’m still engaged to her. She’s still going to be MY wife. And I cannot wait until our wedding night when I take her into my bed and make her moan my name.”
Weasley was on the floor, his nose a broken, bloody mess as Draco crouched down, gripping the front of his cravat. “You listen to me, Weasley. She is not yours. She was never yours. Lady Hermione will never marry you. If you do not do the right thing and call off the wedding, with her reputation intact, I might add, I will tell the whole of London society about why the Brown girl had to go off to the country.” He pulled Weasley up and began to dust him off. “Beginning with your mother.”
Draco sat back down and lit the cigar again; his hand was already bruising, but he didn’t care. “And as far as your debts are concerned,” Draco said as Weasley was dragged out of the club. “Consider it an early birthday present. But cross me again, and I will call in on them Mark my words.”
Draco stood again once the doors were closed, with Weasley securely behind them.
“Gentlemen of Black’s my I have your attention.” Draco addressed the five or fewer men in the room along with him and Neville. “You no doubt overheard the little argument the Captain and I just had, and I would owe all of you a great debt if this matter did not leave this room. I would hate to ruin the reputation of such a wonderful woman if this were to get out. shall we drink on it?”
A waiter brought a tray with brandy around to the others, and they toasted to secrecy and brotherhood.
“And to Neville Longbottom, who is marrying my dearest friend, Pansy Parkinson, in a month’s time.”
The group raised another toast to Neville, and after that, the room went quiet. He would have to explain things to Hermione. But that could come later. Right now, Draco would enjoy his cigar, brandy, time with a good friend at his club.