I know that there are loads of these Drarry fics as adults, so I'm going to make this a little different. How I don't know, but I will. :) Completely ignoring the 19 years later chapter because 1) another fic is in the pipeline where that is taken into account, 2) it didn't really fit with the plot I had for this.

Includes spoilers if you haven't watched Torchwood, Children of Earth (series three) but you probably know the main plot already!! I'm sorry, but since he was in Cardiff, I had to add a few Torchwood references, mostly for my sister Kanto. Love you!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Torchwood or Doctor Who, or any of the characters, with the exception of Dai Llewellyn, Mama Jean, Cassie and Mama Jean's bakery.

un-betad Im sorry!! tell me if you see any errors!!

Chapter One: Elusive glance

Soft grey eyes slowly peeled open to glaring sunlight filtering through the emerald green curtains. He had forgotten to close them last night... again. Draco slowly lifted his head and squinted groggily at the bedside clock, which smugly told him it was eight o'clock. Letting out a groan he stretched himself into a sitting position, the room swimming about him slightly. Last night's clothes lay on the oak laminate, haphazardly discarded in Draco's haste to get into bed. The faint smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke still stuck to his golden, dishevelled hair and hung in the air like, well, a bad smell.

He wasn't a big drinker, but when the other boys in the department had asked him to join them on one of their famous 'Boys Night Out's, he couldn't really say no. Even now, six years after the fall of Voldemort, he was still treated with suspicion. The Veritaserum Trails, which had occurred as a product of the public's yearning for the truth, had given him the complete non-guilty status, clearing him of any wrong-doing but the opinions of many were deep-rooted and hard to change. So, when he was asked out for a drink, it wasn't just a mark of his fading 'Newbie' status (although he'd been there two and a half years), but a mark of the trust and acceptance that he'd gained. This acceptance was something that he craved for, and to decline the offer would send completely the wrong message. Besides, they weren't bad people; some were even pleasant, although there was the usual office weasel (which they had shaken off early in the night).

However, he was forced to accept that maybe it wasn't such a good idea on a night where he had work the following morning. Still, he wouldn't be alone; Harper and Sugden were on the same portkey as him today. Gradually he swung his unusually pale legs from underneath the silk sheets and stood, swinging his arms out to steady himself. He shuffled through the door-less partition of his apartment into the kitchen, pulling his boxer shorts from between his buttocks as he went. It felt as though the brilliant high-gloss white of the kitchen was repeatedly poking him in his still-tired eyes. With a lazy flick of his rosewood wand the toaster kicked into action, the bread mercifully already being in the machine. He had however forgotten to see to the coffee the night before, so he grabbed the jar of instant granules and spooned two teaspoons-worth into the mug, considered the jar for a moment and proceeded to add a further two. With another half hearted flick of his wand the butter flew from the black Smeg fridge and began to be spread on the toast.

He turned his unclothed back on his breakfast, not yet really feeling that he could fill his stomach without having it re-appearing a little later. He took his coffee and shuffled towards the closed balcony doors, looking out on early morning Exeter. It was then he saw the magnificent eagle owl perched on an empty flower-pot and looking rather displeased at having had to wait outside. Hurriedly, due to his experience with the Minister's personal owl, he opened the doors and proceeded to untie the unusually heavy envelope from the owl's leg. However, it seems that he was still too slow for the owl's liking, gaining him a hard nip on the finger. Cursing loudly at what he could see of the now vacating owl, his slender fingers broke the wax ministry seal and drew out a small blue piece of paper, the same type of blue paper that generally held an errand for him to attend too. Today was no different.

Draco,

I've a few things to do this rather fine morning so I don't really need you in until half 11. But if you could do me a favour and pick up some cakes for that meeting with the muggle minister later. Mr Brown didn't seem to be too impressed by our wizard cakes last time. There's a fantastic bakery in Cardiff called Mama Jean's. Actually, could you grab me a coffee while you're there? I'll re-inberse you later.

Cheers, Dai

P.S. I've included a little pep-up for you; I thought you'd need it after last night.

Draco would have smiled at the minister's thoughtfulness had he not been so annoyed by his lack of it. Could he not have informed him about that yesterday, allowing him an extra couple of hours sleep? Grudgingly he downed the small bottle of pink liquid, which tasted of peppermint and glooped rather than slid down his throat. Thoroughly annoyed, although no longer hung over, he set about breakfast and his daily pre-work rituals.

By the time Draco had eaten, showered dressed and meticulously styled his hair so it looked naturally tousled, it was half nine. Sighing, he adorned his black woollen coat but left it open, revealing the relatively tight deep grey jumper and pale blue shirt. In November, the underground ministry offices could be cold, despite the maintenance department's best efforts. He slid his wand into the silk lining of his coat, picked up his briefcase, locked his front door and turned on the spot.

After a second of great discomfort, Draco ended up on a wooden pier, with his back to a tall stone wall. He'd never been to Wales and since he had a few hours to kill, thought he may as well have a look around. He had heard the Minister fondly talk of Cardiff and his childhood on the Bay, so decided to take a look around. A cold wind from the sea bit at his exposed flesh and caused him to draw his coat closer around his body. To his right was a door, surrounded by windows covered with muggle newspaper clippings. The door however had a mesh over it, adorned with wilting flowers and laminated cards. A few coffee mugs lay near the base of the door filled with coffee beans and more flowers. A rather weathered tie was also tied onto the mesh, morosely flapping in the sea breeze. Draco's high polished shoes clicked on the wooden floorboards as he took a closer look at the newspaper clippings. One was about a woman called Harriet Harman, another about an explosion that had apparently occurred on that site just over a month ago. One short clipping mentioned a sighting of a blue telephone box (whatever that was) in a nearby city and another mentioned; Oh My God is that a giant blowfish!? Draco's mouth hung open as he studied the photo of a, for the lack of a better word, man with his head shaped like a blowfish driving a red sports car. Why hadn't the ministry heard of that, when it was such a blatant case of misuse of magic. And on display in a muggle area?! He'd have to mention that to Dai later.

He turned his back and walked down the boardwalk, up the stairs to a huge metal sculpture, with water running down the sides. Just opposite stood a magnificent building with a huge display of Welsh writing above the door. Between the two was a large group of people, muggles by the look of it, with a large selection of different objects, which were all pointing at a large blue box, out of which two people stepped out.

The smell of cooking drew him away from the scene and towards a group of small shops, only one of which were open yet. Draco happily sidled along, looking into the windows with interest. There was a bookstore, a jewellery store, a cafe and a sandwich bar. It was then that he saw him. A man, about the same age as Draco was one knee, tying the lace of a pair of worn out red Converse. He was wearing scruffy jeans and a black parka. His black hair came to just above the earlobe and stuck out in all directions. His fringe was being blown in front of his black, thick-framed glasses. Draco's breathing hitched for a second. Could it really be him? Just as he was about to speak, the man stood up and briskly walked away.

so what do you think? let me know!!!