WHO: Gregory Goyle and Draco Malfoy WHAT: A visit with an friend? Patching things up... WHERE: Draco's posh flat, London WHEN: Sunday evening, 8 pm WARNINGS/RATING/STATUS: Language/pg/incomplete
He'd decided he should walk. And it was a hell of a long walk from Diagon Alley, even with the Muggle map he'd purchased in hand. He'd gotten directions from a bloke on the street that had said it would be faster on the 86. Greg had given a less than enthusiastic shrug and he had let the man direct him to the right line. Greg had hoped on, and handed more of the Muggle coinage he had found in his brothers' stuff to the man. After a bumpy highly distracting ride, the driver had hollered at Greg that this was his stop. Bewildered, Greg had gotten off, and following the map, walked two blocks further east and immediately known it was the right area.
The greenery were meticulously manicured, the streets were spotless with highly polished brass lights illuminating a few pedestrians, dressed in suits and fine dresses, with little yappie dogs on leashes. Greg found the number; a doorman was present and gave Greg a look as he held it open. Greg walked into a marbled floor entry, gilt mirrors on the wall and a series of topiaries lining the walls next to a leather sofa. A man in a uniform with brass trim stood behind a counter and sort of pursed his lips at the sight of Greg.
"I'm here to see Mr. Draco Malfoy," Greg said, and added, "By appointment."
The man didn't nod or give any sort of confirming look, but ran his eyes up and down Greg's form before turning to pick up a phone. Greg waited, and looked into the mirror, seeing himself through the guard's eyes. He knew he didn't look great; he sort of looked a bit scary with his close cut hair, and the glimpse of a tattoo from under his collar. He grimaced into the mirror, checking his teeth for any greens and then rubbed at his cheek. He looked better now that he was out; he'd gotten a bit of sun from being out at Hogsmead earlier in the day.
"You can go up, Sir," Greg heard a voice behind him, and turned to see the guard had come out from behind the desk. He pointed to a closed door and Greg looked from him to the door and stepped forward. It opened, and Greg paused.
The guard spoke, "The Penthouse, of course," and he turned, and Greg thought he was talking to himself. He turned in some confusion and realized there was a man behind the door. Greg wasn't sure what was expected; he knew the Penthouse was at the top but he didn't see any stairs. The man in the elevator looked at Greg and spoke, "The Penthouse, Sir? To Mr. Malfoy's? Please, step in."
Greg nodded and gingerly stepped in. But before he could turn, he felt a lurch and grabbed at a bar on the wall. He looked about with a small panicked look, to the elevator man's slight amusement, "It's an elevator, Sir," to which Greg could only nod. This was not like any elevator he'd ever seen before, and certainly never where an person lived! It was gold lined, and there was a small couch of leather in the room as well; it seemed too big to be an elevator. There were fresh flowers in here, like downstairs, hanging on the wall.
Greg hadn't meant to feel the fool, but it had all been so different, getting here, he was just relieved when he could step out and go knock on the door like a normal man.