This is How a World Ends

Chapter 2: Some Say in Ice

A/n: And here's the very late chapter two

……

It was going to be another long night. This research wasn't even halfway finished, those reports were still sitting on his desk, still contemplating starting themselves, there were a few more client's files to review, and if Bachlund make one more fucking comment…

A devilishly good looking older man stuck his head through the office door. "You've got a lot of work left Malfoy!" Right on cue.

Taking a few moments to decide that homicide really wasn't worth it at this point, Draco resignedly went back to his research.

He had concluded months ago that it would take a herd of stampeding griffins to get this guy off his ass. Bachlund had been riding his case since day one, and would probably continue to do so until a new fish arrived. Draco figured it was because he was prettier than Bachlund. But there were still two and a half more years before the firm took on another rookie. He had it marked on his calendar and everything.

Hope of maybe a couple hours of sleep on the couch brought his attention back to his work. How had he gotten this far behind anyway? He flashed back to his four of five weeknights spent at the bar this week and the subsequent hangovers that didn't agree with his work schedule.

Oh yeah. That was how.

He made as if to open a desk drawer, and then remembered that Tim had confiscated his firewhiskey a week ago. Thus producing his need to go to the bar.

This was all Tim's fault.

And that stupid wanker was on vacation with his family for two weeks so he couldn't even bitch at him about it. But at least Tim had found it. He'd take the mild-mannered lumpy co-worker over Bachlund any day.

So sighing and going back to his books, Draco prepared himself for the next several buzz free hours. It was going to be a long night.

Consciousness was slow in returning. Various things would come into focus and then fade back out. Dreams mingled with reality, and everything was blissfully nonsensical. That was, of course, until Bachlund and his good looks decided to intrude.

"Sleeping on the job this early in the morning Malfoy?" Why was his voice always so Goddamned cocky?

Hold on…on the job? Wait…why was he…?

He became painfully aware of the sharp crick in his neck, most likely from falling asleep on his desk, he realized ruefully.

Why he had slept at work was still a mystery, and shaking the feeling that the evil sheep from his dream were helping the French take over the whole south of Africa was proving harder than he expected.

But Bachlund was talking again, and Draco supposed he should pay attention. He might even get a few things cleared up.

"…that work you were supposed to finish…" Part of Bachlund's phrase managed to get comprehended.

That work! That was right. He had gotten behind and needed to pull an all nighter at the office in order to catch up. He had finished everything except those reports, which were only about a quarter done. Which was fine. They didn't need to be turned in until about 8:00 this morning.

His boss was already halfway out of his office.

"Bachlund?" He turned to face him. "What time is it?" His voice was still thick with sleep.

"About 7:30, fish," Bachlund answered with his omnipresent smirk.

Draco waited until Bachlund was out the door and around the corner before slamming his head against the desk.

…

Draco decided that if the drinking didn't kill him, the second hand smoke most definitely would.

Out of all the clean, respectable bars the city had to offer, the only slummy one happened to be the closest to his flat. Experience had taught him that apparating less than sober never turned out well, so any bar he visited needed to be within drunk walking distance of a place to sleep. Not that apparating distance was all that important for another six months.

He numbly accepted the fourth drink the bartender, Frank, he believed his name was, handed him, while trying not to inhale anywhere near the man.

Those reports had not gotten done, he reflected darkly. James Bachlund was not happy with him at all. As a rule, Draco didn't typically care who he pissed off. But when that person's feelings towards him directly correlated with the size of his paycheck, it mattered.

Surprised when the glass he brought to his lips contained no more liquid, he ordered another. He wondered faintly if this was what most people would call a drinking problem.

The bar tender shot him a concerned glance.

Probably

"Mr. Malfoy!" a voice called.

Who the hell could that be?

The voice called his name again, irritated this time. He turned around in stool, only to come face to face with that little squib boy Bachlund kept around the office. He looked vaguely miffed.

"How did you get in here…" His voice trailed off uncertainly.

"Mark," he replied shortly. "And it's none of your concern how I got in here." His Irish accent was thick. "I've only been callin' your name for five minutes now." He examined Draco's face a little too thoroughly for comfort. "Exactly how drunk are you?"

"Enough. What is it, exactly, that you want?" Mark sighed melodramatically.

'Christ,' Draco thought, 'this boy was a right drama queen.'

"The next case is yours. My mast…" There he flushed and hesitated for a moment. "Err…your boss, that is to say Mr. Bachlund, is full for the next eight months, Mr. Alberts is still vacationing with his family, and I think…" He flipped through a pile of papers Draco hadn't noticed. "Mr. Edwards just quit."

Draco held up a hand for the boy to stop. His alcohol addled brain needed time to process the load of information this boy had just dumped on him. He decided to work backwards.

Edwards-he had never bothered to remember the man's first name-had quit? As in, the last five hours? He seriously needed to pay more attention at work.

Of course Tim was still on vacation. Stupid wanker.

And it was no surprise that Bachlund had his calendar full for the next eight months. He was the best lawyer in the wizarding world. Give him enough money and the man could probe the sun rose in the West and set in the East. He was just that convincing.

Lastly, Mark's error of speech made him rethink the nature of Bachlund and that boy's relationship, and if he was right, would be just the kind of blackmail he needed to get his salary back where he wanted it.

That was of course, if he could remember it in the morning. Maybe he should write it down. He found a napkin and looked futilely for a pen for about five seconds before forgetting what he was looking for.

He waved for him to continue. Mark looked distinctly peeved again.

"Anyway, you're the only one qualified for this kind of trial now."

His first trial. Oh joy. He nodded to show he understood.

Mark narrowed his eyes. "That means you'll need to come in tomorrow."

Draco considered slamming his head down against a hard wooden surface for the second time in an eight hour period. He was beginning to develop an intense personal dislike for this particular squib.

Refusing to return the parting glare, Draco watched Mark leave, and didn't fail to notice him slip a was of cash into the bouncer's hand, or the lingering sultry glance.

And that was how he had gotten in here. He knew the boy couldn't be older than sixteen.

Eww

Maybe it would actually be better to forget certain details of this little...encounter. Hmm...peace of mind or blackmail? He'd let his memory of the situation answer for him.

He took in his surrounding, as if expecting them to change because he was actually going to be doing what he had been training to do for two years now.

The second hand smoke still hung thick in the air, and all he could feel was slight irritation that he'd have to get up in the morning.