Fantastic

“Narcissa?” Snape hammered impatiently on the door of the Malfoy Manor, wincing as his hand turned bright red. “Narcissa!”

Narcissa pulled the door open and gaped at Snape standing there, out of breath, rubbing his scarlet hand. “Severus?”

“Narcissa, come, we have no time for questions.” Snape took her arm and Apparated out, ignoring her confused expression.

They reappeared in a dimly lit street lined with apartment buildings and houses, Snape letting go of Narcissa as she regained her balance.

“Where are we?” she asked, glancing around.

“Switzerland,” Snape replied, walking over and examining the number tag on the nearest building.

“Draco, we need another bottle of raspberry vodka,” Isabel said, turning to look at him momentarily.

Draco glanced across the blue mosaic counter and smirked. “Of course, Isabel,” he said, his voice dripping with mock obsequiousness. He said nothing of the fact that she had somehow managed to spill a large drop of something on her dress, and there was now a large, dark spot on her thigh.

He walked around the bar and to a door marked, ‘Employees Only.’ He disappeared through and reappeared a few minutes later, holding a red glass bottle.

“Vodka,” he said brightly, putting the bottle down in the now empty space where the previous bottle had sat.

“Thank you,” Isabel replied, flashing him a smile.

“Mm hm.” Draco sauntered to the opposite end of the bar, leaning back against the counter as his eyes raked over the clusters of people. It was strangely intriguing to just sit and watch people. A pretty blonde was laughing with a dark-haired man in a business suit — he seemed oblivious to how she was gazing at him so adoringly.

“Hey, can I get a White Russian please? Half and half.” A strangely calm, friendly voice brought Draco back to where he was standing.

A brunette was smiling at him, a menu in her hands. She was sitting on a stool not two feet from him. For a long moment he had trouble focusing on her words; she was stunningly beautiful.

“Um, White Russian. Absolutely.” Draco nodded, turning around to grab a glass and gather ingredients.

He began mixing vodka and Kahlúa, concentrating very hard on the drink itself and not on looking back up at the woman sitting there so casually. Draco bent down and opened one of the small refrigerators, peering intently inside. Where the bloody hell is the half and half when you need it… And how often do you hear that sentence? He found it and grabbed it, standing back up and closing the door as smoothly as he could manage. After finishing mixing the drink, he turned to hand her the glass, his breath catching in his throat as he did so.

“Thank you,” she said with a smile. Her accent was distinct and somewhat peculiar. It was tinged with British, but she was definitely not a native.

“Can I ask where you’re from?” Draco inquired politely, leaning back against the counter and folding his arms casually as she took a sip of her drink.

“Spain,” she replied, setting the glass down.

“Your English is fantastic,” Draco answered and immediately smacked himself mentally. Fantastic? Of course it is, you dolt.

She laughed, and the tinkling sound was like chimes to Draco’s ears. “Your White Russians are fantastic,” she stated, taking another slow sip.

“Draco!” Isabel’s voice cut through his haze of thoughts rudely.

He winced and looked up at the beautiful brunette. “Excuse me,” he said, flashing her a smile as he began walking.

“Yes?” he asked, stopping in front of Isabel and watching apathetically as she glanced over a thick sheaf of paper.

“Phone for you. Take the one in the office, it’s loud out here,” she said without looking up.

“Pho-” Draco broke off, remember mention of the strange devices Muggles used to communicate. “Office. Right. Thanks.” He began walking towards the door at the end of the bar.

“Lindsey, do us a favor,” he murmured, stopping for a moment to address the other bartender on duty that night.

Lindsey looked up, her green eyes meeting Draco’s. “Yeah, what can I do you for?”

“That brunette at the very end of the bar. Keep her happy and give her some incentive to come back, will you?” Draco asked politely, smiling.

“No problem, mate.” Lindsey grinned back.

“Cheers.” Draco moved towards the door and pushed it open, glancing at the desk as he walked in.

The black plastic device known as a phone was sitting atop the oak desk. He frowned and walked over to examine it. He’d seen Isabel using it — she stuck part of it against her ear and spoke into it, he recalled. He picked it up experimentally. “Hello?”

“Draco? Is that you?” Snape’s voice asked.

Draco looked up, bewildered, wondering if Snape had Apparated into the room. Apparently not, the room was still empty.

“Er… yes, I’m here,” Draco answered, still puzzled over the strange device.

“I just wanted to let you know that your mother is safe, Draco. I’ll be along in a couple of days. Is everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine. Thank you, Professor.” Draco breathed a deep sigh of relief.

“I had best be going. Keep your head down, Draco.” There was a click and then silence.

Draco pulled the receiver away from his ear and peered at it for a long moment. Strange Muggle inventions, he thought and reached down to put the receiver back in place. It took several tries, but he eventually got it to sit in what looked like a normal position.

A/N: Thank you, pajamapants, for betaing!