Ooh, long time, no update.
WEASELED
Huddled groups walked sluggishly down the street; eager to return home, but oddly subdued by the gloomy, charred atmosphere of the once prosperous Diagon Alley. Shops and carts were finally returning, mended and rebuilt by the teams of wizards who were determined to put the war behind them- but small triumphs were obscured by two year old rubble and a resolute undercurrent of painful memory.
Broken glass crunched beneath Lucius' heels as he approached a small cluster of witches, the women scattering in time for him to continue his long stride unhindered. He heard them hiss at his back, not bothering to pick up the cliché insults and accusations- Lucius, the Death Eater gone free; Lucius, the traitor, the murderer, the sick bastard no one could touch. Oh yes, he knew what they were saying, and they were right. He couldn't be touched. The Ministry had the final word and their word said he was Lucius, the Death Eater turned Ministry spy.
Unfortunately, the grand label they placed over his head wasn't always in his best interest...
Lucius felt his lip curl and suppressed a snort of disgust. No. He no longer had his old reputation to go back on- He had to be the good boy and act the nice part; be the noble, caring hero that wizards could look up to... He had to go play babysitter for that damned Weasley.
'Well, if I have to be a sweet bastard and patrol the streets, then I'll damn well make him suffer too.' Lucius growled silently, glaring at a small boy even as a sickeningly fake smile plastered to his lips. 'No one ever let me mope around for two years when my bitch of a wife croaked.'
Centered in the town square, a towering fireplace cast a shadow over a line of shops. Completely unnecessary, as there were plenty of regular hearths in the scattered bars and stores- but there were no complaints. The Ministry felt it had done something helpful for the wizards coming in to rebuild, and everyone else got a grand entrance... or exit in Lucius' case.
He waited patiently as a flock of people pushed through the fire, taking their time in brushing and knocking soot from their jackets and shoes. They jostled each other, chattering over things to do, then finally moved on, allowing Lucius to step forward.
Reaching into the deep pocket of his thick winter cloak, he scooped a handful of soft powder from the bottom and tossed it into the low flames. He shook his hair back as a burst of heat washed over his face, bringing a small cloud of ash, and cleared his throat. "The burrow."
In a swirl of green flame and black fabric, he disappeared- Only to be replaced seconds later by an elderly witch, off to buy her groceries.
Sorry, I know it's short. I'm battling writers' block. :P