It took Draco only three days to find a suitable home near Paris. He considered apartments, bungalows, townhouses, but even the estates couldn't satisfy what he was looking for. And when he laid eyes on the chateau, he knew it was meant to be.
It took some clever spell work on the muggles to revoke its purpose as a public gallery. He felt guilty at first, but then the numb anger set back in, and he channelled the energy into sourcing purchase agreements.
It would cost a great chunk of gold from his vault — almost a third in total. Any more large purchases, and he'd likely need to find work, at least until his parents died and he received the full inheritance. But there was something about the timeless antiquity, the bed chambers of differing colours, the perfect preservation of ornaments and the perfection in the grounds. There was so much colour here. And not a serpent in sight.
He wondered if his parents would approve. And then he realised, it didn't really matter.
Draco stood awkwardly in the hall, slumped against the backdrop of elegant artwork and gleaming marble floors. Zabini cackled and whooped, contrasting completely to both Draco and his new house.
"You've officially lost it," Zabini grinned. "This is fucking brilliant. Wait until Nott hears about this, he'll piss himself."
"No," Draco frowned. "I'm here to get away from it all."
"Why did you ask me over, then,?" Blaise asked, still chuckling. He ran a hand along the gleaming chestnut table.
Draco sighed. Truthfully, he was almost regretting the decision already. But there had been a gaping loneliness in a place this big. Something about the silence, the cool stone, the empty space managed to perfectly parallel don'tsayhernamedon'tsayhernamedon'tsayhername.
He fought the urge to slap himself in the face, to jolt him out of that train of thought. The last time he'd allowed his mind to roam there, it had ended with bleeding knuckles and a smashed bathroom mirror from the eighteenth century. It was only just holding up after his shoddy reparo. He doubted it could take much more, and he was quite fond of it. Or, at least, he knew he would be once he could stomach his own reflection again.
"I've not invited you to fucking move in," he grumbled. "Just wanted to say hello."
"Well, this is officially my holiday home," Zabini said. "I could pop in down the other end and you'd never even know I was here."
"I doubt that." Draco sighed. "Where's Hestia?"
Zabini tensed. Trouble in paradise, yet again. What a surprise.
"Reckons she wanted to look around some Paris shops," he said, absentmindedly cracking his knuckles. "Think she's got an aunt further south, too."
"What a shame," Draco scathed, unable to help himself. "She's so much fun when she's around."
"She's not bad," Zabini defended half-heartedly. "She can just be a bit… much."
Draco blinked, fighting the first smirk he'd felt in days. "Oh, sure. Life of the party. Absolute wildcard."
Zabini gave a warning glare, but Draco was having too much fun winding him up.
"If anything, she just doesn't know when to stop, does she? Ought to calm down. Lead a peaceful life. Maybe shack up with a boring twit like you."
"I wouldn't be so smug if I were you, Malfoy."
"Yeah? Why's that?"
"Because she's invited Flora for dinner tonight, too."
Draco groaned, the noise echoing through the vast room. "Tell me you're joking."
"And I think Flora's bringing a few mates." Zabini leant against a pillar, feigning casual. "It could be good for you."
"What part of that would be good for me?" Draco's breathing intensified. "I don't fucking want anybody here, Zabini! I barely want you!"
"It's not my fault!" he shouted back. "I can't just go jet-setting around the world, mate, I live with her. I'm fucking marrying her." He paused. "And… and I want you to be my best man."
Draco stayed silent. Now he was not only angry at the fucking twins for organising some sort of party without his consent, but angry at Zabini for bringing up such a matter while he was angry.
"Look, I know shit's tough right now," Blaise continued, his voice softer. "I know the shit with Astoria fucked you up bad." The sound of her name sent a rush of nausea through Draco's stomach. "But you're here now. You can't keep moping around, blasting things with your wand. Life goes on, mate."
"Fine," Draco growled, eager to end the conversation and not have to hear Tori's name again. "Let the chuckle sisters throw their party. I don't care."
"They're not throwing a party-
"I don't care!" He tried to calm down, before the anger consumed him, reminded him of what he needed to forget.
Zabini only nodded, changing the subject quickly to house prices between the countries.
Hours later, when the sun had left the sky and only candles lit the place, Draco finally finished fussing at his shirt. He'd heard the group arrive one-by-one downstairs, but stayed resolutely in his bed chambers. He told himself it was to perfect his appearance, a point of pride. Particularly for a Malfoy. But, if he was being honest, the simple fact was that no female below could compare to Tori. And with each flirty statement or passing glance, he'd be reminded of her and reminded she was not here. He allowed himself one brief half-second to wonder where she was, what she'd be doing. If she was okay. That half-second was enough to send bile to his throat. Don't think. Don't go there.
After a few minutes with his head in the toilet bowl, Draco went to join the others. Flora greeted him slightly too enthusiastically, with arms wrapped around his waist and a giggly peck on his cheek. Draco resisted the urge to shove her away. He said hello to six other girls, a few he recognised and the others he didn't. And finally, the last face he expected to see.
Pansy raised her eyebrows. "Draco."
What the fuck? It was as though worlds collided, like the past jumping straight into the future. Pansy couldn't be here, in this fucking chateau he'd found to escape from everything. It was his own bloody fault, he decided, for inviting Zabini. He should have remained alone. Let them all think he'd died or dropped off the face of the earth.
He only nodded in her direction, keeping his gaze averted. The girls all tottered around the place, marvelling at the architecture and laughing at things with no humour. The few men present took to smoking cigars. Draco frowned. They hadn't bothered to ask permission, and the last thing he needed was nicotine staining the walls. He muttered quick vanishing spells through the wafts of smoke, but to add insult to injury, nobody paid him much attention besides Zabini and Flora. The latter spent most of the evening following him around, trying to make small talk. She seemed utterly unperturbed by his brooding. More than once, Draco considered disapparating away from his own home for a night of peace and quiet.
"So why the move to France?" Flora asked, sipping pink champagne and swaying off-beat to the music.
Draco sighed, sitting on a velvet barstool. He downed another shot of firewhiskey. They were finally beginning to catch up to him, numbing his face. Numbing his mind.
"I suppose it's closest."
"I mean, why the move specifically?"
"Why not?" He wouldn't discuss Tori. Wouldn't bring that pain fresh again — at least not with Flora. "You lot all managed the apparition, then?"
"No, we used a portkey in the end. Blaise has been to France enough times he had no trouble, but Hestia freaked out at the last second." Flora rolled her eyes, as though trying to convey that she wouldn't be quite so uncool.
Truthfully, Draco couldn't care less. He shook her off twice more, even going so far as to hide in the guest chambers before he was rudely interrupted by the arrival of Blaise and Hestia. He ended up going deep into the butler's pantry, muttering the spell to lock both sets of doors behind him, and sitting on the floor in the dark. Just when he began to uncurl his limbs, just when he softened the defences around his thoughts, somebody came into the room.
"Is there no fucking chance of-
He fell silent when he saw it was Pansy, silhouetted against the light from beyond. The moment stretched before them, growing more and more awkward, until she finally spoke.
"They sent me to find more butterbeer."
"I didn't supply it in the first place," Draco scowled.
"Here." Pansy summoned a tumbler of firewhiskey, the liquid sloshing as it hurtled through the air. "I told them you're not the butterbeer type."
Draco nodded his thanks as he took the drink. There was a comfort in Pansy. In having someone who knew him almost as well as he knew himself. Even better, in some ways.
She summoned another drink for herself, before settling down beside him. "It's been a long time, Draco."
He sipped, barely reacting to the liquid as it hit his stomach straight. "It's been a while, yeah."
The music and voices were audible through the crack in the door. With a sigh, Draco resigned himself to the happenings of the night. The firewhiskey had dulled his pain and anguish enough to cope.
"Are you hiding from Flora?" Pansy asked, her mouth twitching.
Draco tried unsuccessfully to hide his own smirk. "What would give you that impression?"
"She keeps asking me for tips," she sighed. "How to make you interested."
"God." He swallowed more drink. "What did you tell her?"
"I told her to keep persisting."
Draco's face hardened. "You'd better be joking."
"Of course I'm joking," she laughed, heartily, unlike Flora's silly giggles. "I told her to be more aloof. Thought it might give you a bit of breathing room, at least."
"Let's hope it sticks," Draco muttered.
Pansy looked at her own glass as she spoke, her tone just a little too cool. "She said she thought there was someone else. I mean, it's none of my business," she hastened to add, "but you might want to talk to her properly at some stage."
"Like I haven't tried," Draco grunted, finishing his glass.
He felt the unspoken question lingering in the air. What was the harm in speaking about it now, really? His drunken mind couldn't feel the torrent of pain. Pansy wasn't likely to tell anybody.
"There was someone," he admitted. "But I… I fucked it up. And then she fucked me up."
"And then you ran away," Pansy guessed.
Draco shook his head. "I would have gone long ago. It's more like she was the only thing keeping me there."
The music quieted, and the voices dropped to a murmur. Pansy began to speak, but was interrupted by someone calling out to the others. When Draco heard it, he dropped his glass, the pieces shattering by his feet and coating the marble tile in glitter.
"Hey, Greengrass is here!"