Hi everyone! It's probably the first time your hear (way of talking...) about me on this site. It's because I usually write in French, and also because I didn't login for a good two years. Yeah yeah, it's been a long time.

But now I'm back, and just for you, I translated kind of a weird fic from Loana (the French one) and I. Each of us write a chapter alternatly. The prologue is from Loana, and that's what you're about to read!

But just before you begin, I must tell you something (or beg you, both work good for me). My first language is French, not English. I just want you to be indulgent and comprehensive (I know you are, I see it on your cute little face!). I try to do the less errors as possible, but I'm not perfect (almost, but that's another story..). So that's it!

Have fun, guys!

°ooOoo°

THE CLASSIFIED

Prologue

Draco Malfoy, rich man, handsome, and also solitary, was in a dead end since the new law that prohibited to have house-elves at home if they weren't paid had been accepted… Paying six galleons an hour all of his house-elves, or hiring a gardener, a cook and someone to clean the house… The choice was easy.

-No way I'm gonna share MY money with ANYONE! And house-elves ARE anyone! he thought.

A little noise on his office's window drew him out of his thoughts. It was the owl that was bringing him the The Daily Prophet. He read quickly the articles and saw the section of the classifieds. Reading it absent-mindedly, he finally saw what he needed.

Gardener full of originality, professional house cleaner and qualified cook, searches a well paid job to fill his summer holidays. Interested? Please call me at the 557-6889, or contact me by owl at this address:

Serpy Ryry
67, Hidden Street
London

Thanks!
Serpy Ryry

Draco Malfoy took immediately his feather and a parchment, and wrote his answer.

Dear Serpy Ryry,

Your classified in the Daily Prophet greatly surprised me. You say you're able to cook, to clean and to be gardening? I would like to take a look to your CV. Maybe you could have a chance to work in my mansion.

Slytherinly yours,
D.L.M.

P.S – Please give your answer to my owl. Thanks.

Draco smiled, satisfied by his letter, and gave it to his owl that was on it's perch. The bird of prey flew at once by the open window. Draco came back to his desk and continued to sort out the thousands of papers his father bequeathed to him at the end of the war. Now, he just had to wait.