Confessions of an Ex-Death-Eater

Friday 21st December 2007

Harry did indeed feel very guilty that he had not visited Luna's restaurant. He had absolutely no excuses. It was unequivocally charming, if not a little eccentric in decor. It was also fully booked and filled with lively chatter.

Luna was delighted they had come, hugging them both before leading them away to a quiet table in the corner. Harry was relieved that the attention was minimal. It was still there, there was still a whisper of 'it's Harry Potter', and whispering and staring, and a couple of people still wanted to shake his hand.

When they eventually sat down, Draco was looking at him with wide eyes.

'It's why I don't go out so much in the wizarding world. Even after all this time, it's hard to cope with. You do realise our photo will probably be in the press tomorrow?'

'I should have thought,' Draco muttered. 'Next time we'll go out in muggle London.'

'Next time?'

Harry could tell Draco was blushing even under the dim lighting of the restaurant. They were looking at each other rather too intently and Harry found that his stomach was in that Permanent Knotted-State again. He ran his hand nervously through his hair and Draco 'Tsked!'

'You'll mess it up, leave your hair.' And he reached across the table to straighten the stray lock which was probably sticking up in Merlin-knows-what direction.

Harry felt rather like a Niffler caught stealing and froze.

Luna slid onto the bench seat beside Harry. 'So,' she said cheerfully, oblivious to the moment she was interrupting. 'Today's specials are on the board. I would really recommend the duck breast with the beetroot and red wine sauce and dauphinoise pots and a side of greens, and with that, a claret. Maybe stuffed courgette flowers to start with or the baked stuffed mushrooms. How have you been, Harry? It's been too long?'

She was looking at them both intently, he almost expected her to get out her Spectrespecs and start talking about Wrackspurts. 'Hum!' she said dreamily, her large silvery eyes reminding him of Draco's. 'I think that is a conversation for another day. Shall I leave you to decided?'

Harry shook his head in amusement. He knew she wasn't half as distracted or dotty as she appeared and the bustle of the fully-booked restaurant was testimony to that. 'No, I'll have what you recommend and I'll try the flowers,' he said, feeling brave.

Draco agreed, but went for the mushrooms.

'I shall bring you over a bottle of champagne to start,' she held up her hand to stop any objections and leant forward conspiratorially, 'on the house.'

'Pansy will kill you,' Draco said in a hushed tone.

'Oh, don't worry about that. I'll charge it to the Daily Prophet for sending in one of their reporters under a Glamour. Don't fear, I've already thrown him out long before you arrived but it's our little game and every time I catch them, it costs them a bottle of champagne.' She brushed her dirty blond hair back from her with a little flick of her head. 'They don't realise the power of Sneakoscopes. Totally useless for detecting one's enemies but very clever for detecting journalists.'

'Pansy?' Harry whispered when Luna had left.

'Yes, joint owner, believe it or not. I think they may be lovers too but they're keeping it quiet if they are. The Parkinsons wouldn't much like their heiress to be having openly illicit affairs outside of marriage, and it's a double scandal to be with another woman and that she's Luna Lovegood.'

Harry's eyebrows must have been in his hairline, 'I thought Pansy was the epitome of Blanche Ingram.'

'And now it's you who's pulled us back to Jane Eyre. Well, she is, to a degree. She's the accomplished woman "educated" to ensnare a rich husband and not much more. But Pansy is cleverer than that, she always understood that she was supposed to prostitute herself for a wealthy, pureblood marriage. That's the way of the old pure-blood families, think of Tori's family, willing to sell her off to my father when she was only ten, married at fifteen, and subject her to child-bearing slavery for the sake of their name.' Draco looked sad and Harry felt his pain. They caught eyes and Draco sighed before continuing. 'Pansy's always wanted more. She only agreed to marry Lord Clifford Rosier because he's inordinately wealthy, rather stupid, and she gets the moniker "Lady". As a result, she has both a huge amount of money and a lot of freedom, so long as she's discreet. She's produced the heir, refuses to live in their castle in Ireland with Clifford, and runs the business here with Luna "for a little bit of fun". Apart from she's a very astute business woman while Luna is the creative brains behind all this. And as Clifford is some thirty-two years her senior...'