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Per Solum Lacuna: By Words Alone
Chapter 7: All That You Can't Leave Behind
Part 1: Stuck in a Moment (and You Can't Get Out of It)
The familiar jingling of keys preceded the forceful opening of the studio door. The door was warped with old age, and Draco had to put all his weight against it, giving it a push as he awkwardly staggered in, slamming it hard with his foot once he followed the gust of wind that came with him. The overweighted bags in his arms were gratefully dropped on the counter rather carelessly. A couple of stray tomatoes fell from the top of the bag, but Draco was too busy rubbing his aching knee to notice. From the muttered complaints coming from under his breath, it was obvious that he was none too happy. Hobbling past his desk, he quickly stopped to open the journal. Nothing. His frown did nothing to improve his demeanour.
The wind had picked up during Draco's shopping trip, and the sleet had whipped through his rather flimsy jacket. What started as a casual stroll through the Muggle markets, turned into a mad dash to grab what food he could, before getting back to the warmth of his studio. Not one to be rushed, Draco's urgency in getting out of the weather did not help the twinge and ache in his injured knee.
Grateful to now be out of the typically miserable January weather, Draco waved his wand at the fireplace, which was soon blazing with a hearty fire. The studio had become rather chilly in the fortnight since his rather rushed return from the chateau. In one of his now all too common outbursts of irritation, he had decided that the studio needed redecoration. The curtains, rugs and throw cushions had not survived the purge, yet Draco had not yet had the inclination to replace them. With the windows now exposed, every ounce of cold from outside crept in and made his usually cosy studio a rather uninviting place.
Not that it really bothered the wizard. Draco felt it was some sort of suitable punishment for his behaviour just before the New Year. If he was going to become a better man then he needed to suffer somewhat. The fire in the hearth and a very basic warming charm kept the place from becoming uninhabitable, but the studio's atmosphere was just on the chilly side of comfortable. He needed that chill to help him feel the pain of his past actions.
Draco leant heavily against the bench as he waited for the ache in his knee to subside. He almost forgot the other reason why he had ventured out in such miserable weather in the first place. Sneaking a hand into the pocket of his jacket, Draco pulled out the sealed packets and vials of fresh potions ingredients. He slowly limped over to his potions cabinet and carefully locked them away, holding back a couple of packets for immediate use.
A pot of coffee was soon ready, and a sense of warmth crept through him as he took a sip of the harshly bitter brew. With a kick start from the caffeine running through his system, he was ready to go back to work. No point in dwelling on things now – is there? He thought. With his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose, he was soon going through the familiar and safe motions of his work. At least he didn't have to deal with people, and that could only be a good thing. The soothing comfort, monotony and repetition of brewing kept Draco sane, yet it did not dispel his demons.
Draco was busy reading through his own research notes as he chopped, sliced, stirred, simmered and cooled a variety of ingredients into a number of cauldrons in his work area. Often he would look up over the top of the simmering pots, and his gaze would fall on his desk, on one spot in particular. With a sigh, he went back to work. Having thrown himself back into his work since the New Year, Draco had taken the bold step of adding the complex 'Medicinal Potions' class to his already busy class schedule. It was the least he could do to make up for his behaviour over his Yule holiday.
His recent research project involved working with antivenoms, and he had successfully brewed a number of the more complex ones. He had been experimenting this past couple of days with Lobalug antivenom, and with a few different tweaks and combinations, was recording his results for further research. As one hand stirred the nearest cauldron, his eyes glanced at his desk yet again, but nothing differed from the countless dozens of other times he had looked upon the journal in the past fortnight. A scowl crossed his face, and with a huff, he threw the last few ingredients into the bubbling pot before once again stirring furiously.
The scowl had become a permanent fixture in recent days. He tried to focus again on his work – after all, it was all he had left now – and let the look of disappointment linger after the scowl died away. He had stuffed up his love life, and now, after his mad ramblings, it seemed he had lost the one person he was beginning to think of as a friend. Flash had not replied to Draco's entry after New Year's. At first, Draco eagerly awaited some response from the other wizard, but after a couple of days, dejection had set in. The more Draco denied he was becoming obsessed about the journal, the greater his obsession about it grew.
With each passing day, and no response in his journal, Draco became more sullen. He had not yet completely given up hope of hearing from the other wizard again, but hope was fading fast. No doubt he had scared Flash off with his crazed ramblings of his post Yule exploits. There I go again – spilling out my deranged thoughts and choices, and another wizard has judged me for them and decided not to bother with me any more. Perhaps someone treated Flash like that in the past, and I've just dredged up bad memories for him. Flash had probably decided that 'Luc' was a complete nutter, and was not worth knowing about. After all, he had his own life, and his own happiness to sort out – why would he be interested in helping someone as self centred and horrid as himself?
As Draco's self recrimination continued he dwelt on what he missed most about the other wizard's correspondence. Could we really have been friends? I really found Flash intriguing. Perhaps I should write something else – some sort of apology. Draco snorted and shook his head. That won't work – he's probably thrown his journal away and has decided to pour his feelings into a journal that won't moan and bitch about its own deranged lifestyle. There's another rejection – just like Antonio. It's true. I'm utterly self centred, and I should have been the one listening to Flash – after all, he was the one to write first. Not once did he try to judge me, and he seemed so open minded. I suppose I do deserve his rejection – after what I did to Devon. I am so fucking selfish. I am NOT turning into Lucius! I refuse to!
Draco tried harder to convince himself that he never really befriended the other wizard, that it was foolish to pour his whole misguided love life out to the stranger. As much as Draco tried to convince himself that this was the truth, at every given opportunity he would watch the journal for any sign of a reply. Why am I so obsessed with waiting for his answer?
As the cauldron's ingredients reached boiling point, Draco meticulously and precisely added some final ingredients, before reducing the flame and sitting down with his notes – along with a fresh pot of coffee. He rubbed the bridge of his nose as he prepared to continue pouring over more books and parchments in his research. His self worth was at an all time low, and he could not believe that he had become so eager, so dependent on the word of another wizard. It's not like I need anyone's approval for what I want to do. Guess I'll just have to suffer on my own. I am a Malfoy, after all.
Draco pondered the decisions he had made at New Year. He didn't need any romantic entanglements in his life. They had been the cause of all his woes. The façade he always wore – the cool and detached face of pureblood sophistication - was wearing thin. Draco didn't think he really wanted to wear it any more. After all, it was a part of his persona that linked him to his family – to his father, and he hated that. Shutting himself away and throwing himself into his work had not been the most original way of dealing with his troubles, but it was all he could think to do at the time. He really wanted to talk to Flash about this, as the other wizard probably had much better ideas on how he could handle inner happiness, and love. The two things Draco craved most of all.
It was just then that Draco realised what he really wanted – he needed to be happy within himself. Am I truly happy right now? Not really - but what else can I do? For many years he assumed the Malfoy fortune would keep him happy, but a couple of years without it, and he realised it would not make him happy – comfortable perhaps, but it would not be the root of his happiness. No, he shook his head, throwing myself into work is the only logical thing to do. He rubbed at the unshaven stubble on his chin. In his preoccupation over the past few days, he had not bothered to shave, and only now realised the cause of the annoying itch on his face.
As he sat pondering the results of his latest experiments, his quill poised over the parchment, he felt a tingle of magic erupt before him. His journal started to tremble and shake as the pages ruffled before his eyes. It took him a moment to come to terms with the fact that the purple writing was suddenly appearing on the page. Surely I'm not imagining it again? Draco took off his glasses, carefully cleaning them before putting them back on. For two weeks he had imagined this very scene, as Flash wrote to him. This wasn't his imagination – the words were truly appearing before him. He became quite flustered as he eagerly grabbed his favourite eagle feather quill, and nervously scrabbled for the green ink to let Flash know he was right there. Propriety be damned, he wanted to talk to Flash!
Draco breathed a sigh of relief as he read Flash's words. So he's been in Italy. Merlin I'm a self centred fool. Of course he has his own life to lead. He's not at my beck and call. Draco's smile broadened across his face as he realised that Flash had not abandoned him.
After a short pause, Draco quickly wrote a hello to Flash. He hoped that the wizard had not gone again – he had just been telling Draco how he wasn't a cad for dumping Devon. Flash was genuinely pleased to know that Draco was all right, and he also seemed pleased to be talking to Luc 'live'. I really didn't scare him off – he seemed genuinely apologetic for not responding. Draco felt so foolish and silly for being so obsessed over the other wizard's lack of reply. He had sounded needy enough in his last ramblings – he didn't think he wanted Flash to find out he had been acting even more selfishly. After all, I'm not the only one who needs to talk about his feelings – Flash started this whole journal business.
The pair wrote back and forth for a good while, their conversation crossing dozens of topics. As time went on, Draco realised that a knot of tension was slowly being released from his shoulders. He didn't realise that he had been so tense, just because his new friend had not replied to him.
They were friends now; at least, Flash had accepted his hand of friendship, which had turned Draco's smile into a broad grin. As he sat watching the other wizard's words he thought long and hard – comprehension dawning within. It's a friend I need right now – not a lover, not family. Emmaline is a true friend and my petite mère, but I can't talk to her about some things. Yes, I think Flash and I will make great friends. I wonder if we would have been friends if we ever met in person?
He pondered this enigmatic wizard he wilfully opened up to. Why do I feel so comfortable around him? Is it because he's anonymous? Draco shrugged. He hasn't once tried to judge me, and he's even apologised for being human enough to make a mistake with his own advice – wow! He's almost too good to be true, Draco thought.
Draco had not felt so pleased in ages – just reading about the other wizard's life – knowing just that bit more about him had piqued his curiosity, and he began to lift out of his own self recriminating fugue. Draco could not help but feel slightly jealous of the other wizard's seemingly wonderful time with his partner, Ollie, but as his mood lifted, he realised it was only natural to feel a little jealous when someone had what you desperately craved. A little jealousy was healthy for the soul, but not the blinding type that he had often been involved in. He tried hard to not let Flash's musings about Italy dredge up memories of happier times – impromptu weekends away with Antonio were a common occurrence, but he could not begrudge Flash and Ollie their time together. Despite an unwarranted lingering doubt mulling in the back of Draco's mind, Flash seemed to be truly smitten and deeply in love with this Ollie character. It was plainly obvious.
As they wrote about unimportant things – books and Quidditch locker rooms and Muggle devices, Draco realised just how easy his words came – no holding back, no hiding behind his mask of indifference. It was a refreshing change. Despite this, he didn't feel quite ready to reveal his full name. He sensed that Flash was possibly holding back as well, no doubt for the very same reason. Why complicate things with identities? After all, this guy was English, and Draco didn't know how Flash would react to knowing that he was talking to the son of one of England's most notorious Death Eaters. No doubt he'd have some pre-conceived notion about me because of Lucius. I don't want that. Why am I so drawn to him – so compelled to talk to him?
Talking about Quidditch and school had brought Draco back to some happier times, despite some rather forgettable memories resurfacing. Well there's no way this guy went to Hogwarts – he probably went to one of the smaller English wizarding schools. That Potions master he described is nothing like Snape, and he has taught at Hogwarts a good twenty years now. The memories of Quidditch were bittersweet. He would dearly love to play again, but knew he would never get back on a broom. Still, he did miss the comradeship of his fellow Slytherin team-mates. They had been a close knit bunch of players, in more ways than one. Perhaps if his education had not been 'rounded out' by his experiences with his fellow Quidditch players, his love life may not be in the position it was currently in. Yes, some of the most interesting lessons were learned in the Hogwarts Quidditch showers, and the classes were not held by the Professors.
As their conversation progressed, Draco realised he had given away the fact he worked with potions, yet he knew nothing about Flash's occupation. After discovering he worked with Dark Arts, Draco sat back momentarily. No wonder this guy seems so confident – so in tune with his feelings – he's obviously a lot older than I initially thought. Eleven years experience with Dark Arts. Must be in his late twenties or early thirties. Draco surmised. I wonder if he's an Auror? Boy, am I glad I never told him my name. No doubt those guys think I'm tarred with the same brush as my father, even though I spied during the war. I saw the look in their eyes when it was all over. They still didn't think I was trustworthy. Why else would I want to up and leave England, but to get away from their mistrust?
Draco sighed with relief as he saw that Flash would willingly help him with those resolutions he had made back in the New Year. After all, I don't really need anyone to 'make' me happy – at least I shouldn't. I've managed to survive these past two weeks, and I'm still here. Besides, what more could there be for me? Heaps of people manage on their own. Look at Severus. Draco thought about his mentor, and fellow spy. They had worked closely during the war, and Draco suspected he knew the man probably better than anyone else alive, save for probably Dumbledore. Perhaps I'm destined to be alone like him. At least I'll be in control of my own destiny. At least I won't be like my father – giving myself over in service to a complete madman.
Draco was pondering the idea of getting to know more about this Muggle television thing, when Flash suggested he talk to some of his Muggleborn friends. Draco was about to tell Flash he had no Muggleborn friends, when an unpleasant scent wafted past his nose. The unexpected smell preceded the thick pall of black smoke rising from his unattended cauldron. Oh fuckity-fuck! Draco quickly scribbled a curse before dropping his quill and rushing over to the cauldron.
He knew it was too late before he'd reached the other side of the room. The antivenom he had been brewing had bubbled over and Draco could spot that the resultant mess was rather unstable and close to exploding. The colour and the pulsating pustules on the surface giving away that fact. Just as he was within striking distance, the cauldron's contents exploded all over the kitchenette – coating everything within its reach – his glasses and coat included. A yowl from the cat told him that she too had been struck by the dangerously explosive concoction. Petite Amie leapt away from the threat, and ran cowering to the relative safety of the bathroom.
Draco muttered curses in several languages, angry at himself for completely ignoring his cauldron. He was more stunned than surprised at his inattention. In all his years of potion work, not once had he ever left a cauldron unattended. Realising the instability of the rapidly cooling mess, Draco started to clean it up – without magic. Why had he stopped paying attention to his work? Because Flash wrote, and you were so happy to see his words, all thoughts of reality flew out of your head like a lovesick fool! Draco chastised himself as he cleaned.
It was a couple of hours before Draco had his studio in a condition where he could finish cleaning with magic. He'd managed to save his other concoctions from that day, as the other cauldrons were surrounded by their own protective charms. The antivenom had been ruined, as had a number of odd ingredients lying on the benches. His jacket was completely ruined (not that that was a bad thing, Draco hated it in the first place), and poor Petite Amie was looking decidedly put out by the rather vigorous bath she had received. Draco was still profusely apologising to her, and offered a sizeable portion of the chicken he was planning to prepare for his own dinner in way of compensation.
By the time Draco returned to the journal, tired and overwhelmed at his inattention, it was a good few hours later. He hadn't expected Flash to hang around, and saw that the other wizard had indeed been concerned for his welfare. He smiled at the thought that his friend was worried for him. Yes, he is my friend, and he does care. That thought warmed Draco more than the fire in the hearth, and he composed a suitable apology for his abrupt departure.
The kinship he felt with this other wizard was something he'd not felt in a long time. He could hardly recall worrying this way about anyone else – at least none of his other friends. As for his former lovers, well, Draco immediately gave up on thinking about them – the memories were still too fresh and he was in too good a mood to dwell on such things.
I'm glad he offered to help me. Flash seems so much more in touch with his own feelings, and I need guidance. I've been busy shutting myself away these past few days, and I'm not going to do it any longer. I have to stop dwelling on Devon. Draco gulped at the memory of the impressionable young wizard. Flash is right. Devon will be grateful in a few years when he does meet his Mr Right, and he'll know it was better that I ended it now than to string him on for months. I can't be that cruel and heartless. Perhaps there is hope for me yet!
As Draco sat by the fire, warming his toes, he munched into his bruschetta. In his guilt, he'd ended up feeding all the chicken to Petite Amie, and was left with nothing else but his bread and other fresh vegetables. He ended up making the simple Italian bread, smothering it with the freshly baked tomatoes, garlic, basil and pepper. All that talk of Italy had made him hunger for the simple Italian meal – one that Antonio had taught him to prepare. Draco had prepared it unconsciously, and the sudden thought of Antonio held no pain for him. His past relationships were a part of him now – of who he was, and he was going to have to live with that knowledge for the rest of his life.
Perhaps he was beginning to heal after all.
Pouring himself a refreshing glass of wine – one from his own vineyard – Draco sat back, and thought on memories he had long forgotten. The Quidditch showers had indeed been an eye opening place for Draco. It was there that he honed his skills for watching people; it was there he first learned many things about his own sexuality, and about the things that boys could share together. Still, the memory of a wet and glistening Harry Potter as he stepped from the shower was just as vivid as it had been six, nearly seven years earlier.
He would never forget that sight – well, at least he had tried, but to his chagrin, the memory would never fade. As he realised what he was thinking, the smirk on his face soured, as did his jovial mood. Even stripped bare, the bloody git had still been worthy of bodily adoration. Draco could never forget his reaction to that sight, and even now his body reacted at that initial thought. His scowl soon put paid to those traitorous thoughts. However, after Draco had initially caught Potter naked, he had experienced the hottest of wet dreams featuring the Gryffindor seeker. He'd woken drenched with the aftermath of that initial dream, and needed to relieve himself of his mounting pressure again before he faced classes that morning. Unfortunately for the Slytherin, it had been that same shower vision that had aided him in his morning quest as well.
Looking at the clock, he realised it was rather late and he was disappointed that his day's work had been less than successful. The antivenom would have to wait for another day. That would mean another trip for more billywig stings, and Draco decided he would work on other aspects of his research tomorrow. He made his way to bed, obviously forgiven by Petite Amie, as she was curled up on his pillow and moved down to lounge against his back as he got comfortable between his sheets. He had felt better for talking to Flash, not realising just how tense he had been about the other wizard's absence. He felt stupid for his crazy notions and self centred ideals about the other wizard ignoring him. He truly needed someone like Flash to be a true friend – a confidante. It was refreshing to get to know someone without all the added baggage. For the first time in years, he was truly getting to know someone, and it felt great. Perhaps I should have tried to make more friends over the years, if this is the feeling that comes with making them.
Sleep quickly overtook his now relaxed body and mind. Not even Petite Amie could guess the relaxed smile on his face was brought about by the very hot and very wet Quidditch players featuring heavily in his dreams.
Janvier 16, 2003
Bonjour Severus,
Apologies for not writing to you sooner, I've been rather – preoccupied, and it's only now that I realise I've actually been remiss in responding to your Yuletide missive. My most humble apologies for that. I did actually write a reply at Yule – Wizard's honour – but the inclement weather, and the reluctance of Melchett to deliver it would have meant that my meaningless tidings would have come late anyway. I do hope that you had a pleasant Yule in the castle. I expect that the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors are giving your ulcer a hard time. I trust none stayed back to annoy you over the holiday break.
I regret that I write to you for purely selfish reasons, and not just to apologise for my own misgivings. A few days ago, whilst faced with a rather disastrous experiment with Lobalug antivenom, I decided to turn my thoughts back to our pet project. Call it a hunch, but I had some success with further experimentation. If the results from my latest batch of tests prove successful, then I might consider taking it to my lecturers and registering it as my honours thesis project. Who knows what I'll be doing at the end of this year, so these tests had better succeed (I haven't really got any other topics up my sleeve).
I've attached my latest notes to this letter, and I was hoping that if you got a chance (in other words, lighten up on the detentions for a couple of nights – or at least pass them on to Filch), you might want to look over and test my latest hypotheses. I do think that altitude has a marked effect on the actual brewing and simmering times, and you're in a position to test that theory. If you check my Arithmancy, I think I've sorted out the key to this dilemma. Either that, or it's the inferior British cauldrons that make a difference. The bottom thickness in them has declined dramatically since the war.
I was hoping your willing volunteer might like to test these results again this month, if you find the results to your satisfaction. I think adding the ground vervain to the infusion should counteract the bitterness of the wormwood – without affecting its magical properties. I'd try it out here, but I'm lacking a distinct supply of werewolves, and well, you have such a willing guinea pig right there in the form of Professor Dumbledore's pet werewolf...
As Draco wrote, he realised he was being rather callous about Remus Lupin. After all, if it hadn't been for his former defence professor, Draco would not be getting the constant and precise feedback on his pet research project – improvements in the Wolfsbane potion. In his seventh year, Draco had assisted Severus in the brewing of the difficult potion for Professor Lupin. He had been reluctant to do so at first, but Severus had pointed out that Potions masters always put aside personal prejudices when plying their trade. After assisting Snape a couple of times, he successfully brewed it on his own. Draco had been abhorred by the smell, and the lack of refinements that had gone into the potion. Surely there had to be a way to make it more palatable, without losing its effectiveness. He had always been curious about improving this potion, and often spoke to Severus about suggestions. For at least the past six months, Severus had been using Draco's recommendations to brew an enhanced Wolfsbane for Lupin.
Draco couldn't hate the werewolf professor - and he didn't - not really. He sighed. Perhaps it was a side effect of growing up – he no longer felt any animosity towards him. To be honest, he never really had anything against Lupin in the first place. It had been his father who had encouraged the negative thoughts towards the werewolf back when Lupin was teaching Draco. Draco could not really fault Lupin, after all, he had been a key member of the Order, and his war record spoke for itself.
Besides, Draco admitted, Lupin was the best defence professor I had in my entire schooling. He quickly erased his past words, grateful that he had the forethought to do so and extremely thankful that the normal parchment allowed for the correction. He thought that writing in that journal would eventually teach him to think before he wrote, and that could only be a good thing. He had no reason to hate Remus Lupin, and would not demean the man on paper. He was NOT Lucius.
...you have such an eager test subject in Professor Lupin. I don't know how he'd react to knowing that you have been brewing the Wolfsbane to my suggestions, Severus; I'm not sure that he would be so willing to test the changes if he knew that I was the one behind the enhancements you've been brewing. I look forward to your feedback soon.
Au Revoir,
Draco
Part 2: Wild Honey
January 21
It had been a rather busy Tuesday for Draco, classes dragging on for what seemed like an eternity. A disagreement with one of his lecturers had left him in a grumpy mood. All he looked forward to was a hot and strong cup of Emmaline's coffee. He suddenly felt guilty that he'd not been helping his landlady out these past few weeks, but if he were honest with himself, this past week since he chatted to Flash, he'd felt much happier, but had become immersed in his studies, and felt much better that he was channelling his efforts into something more constructive. He was still eagerly awaiting a response from Severus about his latest batch of Wolfsbane. Draco was sure that he would be hearing only good news from across the channel soon.
As he turned the final corner to the dark and narrow street where he lived, he noticed something amiss. It wasn't until he came up close that he saw that the bookstore was closed. That's odd, Draco thought. Normally this is a busy hour. He frowned, not knowing what was wrong. Peering into the store, he couldn't see anyone, and there was no sign of Emmaline – she didn't even have a lamp lit. Sometimes she would close up early – particularly if the weather was bad enough, yet today had been clear and perfect for shopping, despite a little wind. He went around the back and climbed the rickety staircase, entering his studio through the back landing.
He knocked on the door of her studio – perhaps she wasn't well. After a few knocks, there was no answer. Shrugging his shoulders, he went back to the comfort of his own studio, attempting his own efforts at coffee, rueing the missed opportunity for one of Emmaline's fine brews. She never said she was going away. Usually she tells me these things. It was a mystery why the store was closed.
A sudden noise from across the hall perked his attention. It sounded like it had come from Emmaline's studio. The thump and cough was distinctly unlike any noise Draco normally heard from his landlady's studio. The manly cough was easily distinguishable. He dashed as quickly as he could across the hall, and was again loudly banging on her door. "Emmaline! Are you all right in there?" The distinct sound of muffled footsteps could be heard in the studio, but she did not come to the door. "petite mère... is everything all right? I'm coming in." There was no reply and the muffled sounds ceased.
"Alohomora!"
Emmaline's door creaked open after the lock disengaged. Creeping in slowly, his wand drawn, Draco spotted the intruder first. "Petrificus Totalus!" The intruder – male – was stopped in his tracks. His wand was also drawn, but he had been leaning over the gaunt and pale looking face of Emmaline.
Draco rushed to her side. "petite mère... Are you all right?" the fear in his eyes was evident at the sight of her. Draco had seen that look before, and it wasn't good. Her ghastly pallor was only one shade away from the colour of death, and he had seen more than his fair share of that in his time.
"No!" Draco was about to lay his hands on her face, to touch the skin. He didn't want to confirm if his worst notion had come true. As he gently laid his hand on her cheek her eyes opened and Draco let out a sigh of relief. She tried to open her mouth, but no words came from her parched and dry lips. She tried to mouth the words instead. Not understanding what she was saying, he glanced over at the intruder and scowled. A look of sheer frustration crossed a pair of dazzlingly bright chocolate brown eyes.
"Neveu... medi-wizard..." The words were dry and almost unintelligible as Emmaline pointed at the intruder. Draco could see the man struggling fruitlessly against his body bind.
"What?" Draco couldn't understand what she was trying to say.
"He's my... medi-wizard... Draco, he's... release him, please." Emmaline used up a lot of strength to speak. Draco looked back at the man, who looked nothing like a medi-wizard. For one, he was way too young. Secondly, no self respecting medi-wizard would be wearing robes of such... bohemian design. He looked as if he had stepped straight out of a Bedouin caravan.
"Em, are you..." Draco was interrupted by her fierce nodding.
"Please Draco, he's helping me." Giving the other wizard one last distrustful look, he muttered a reluctant "Finite Incantatum".
A deep sigh came from the now released wizard, but rather than reacting and hexing Draco, he barely gave him the time of day, moving quickly to Emmaline's side. As he cast some identification spells over her, Draco was surprised at the level of concern on the man's face. At one stage, she tried to push his wand hand away, but he firmly chastised her. Draco was shocked by this brutal bedside manner. What sort of medi-wizard is this guy anyway? He thought as he looked on, still with the distrustful glare.
Expecting the worst, or at least a few dozen potions to be poured down her throat, Draco was further surprised when the wizard rolled up his sleeves, and continued without his wand. That's most unconventional, he thought. He had only heard of Reiki healing before – not being one for esoteric healing methods. Watching the energy ooze out of the other man, he noticed, for the first time, the rippling sinew of his forearms, and the amazingly large, yet elegant hands.
He imagined those sensual hands gliding over smooth, pale flesh; the elegant fingers running through short pale hair; the hands grasping at tight, firm flesh...
Draco snapped out of his daydream, realising that he was being addressed by the man. A modicum of colour had returned to Emmaline's face, and he noticed the man's extended hand. Draco looked dumbstruck for a moment, before realising the other wizard was looking to shake hands. He firmly grasped the hand, and was surprised by the warmth and positive energy still flowing through the gesture. Pressing flesh with the other wizard was just as exciting as his momentary daydream. Draco inhaled sharply at the pleasant touch. The sparkle in the other wizard's eye told Draco that he too felt something from their touch.
"Salut, I'm Jean-Paul. Tante Em flooed me. She's not been well. Not well at all." Draco noticed the other wizard's displeasure at his patient's condition. As he was going to comment on his harsh manner, he realised that she had called him nephew, and he called her aunt.
"Hi, Draco Malfoy." He jerked his thumb at the hallway. "I live next door. I've been busy at l'Institut, and haven't been to see her for a few days. She never told me she wasn't well." Feeling foolish for stating the obvious, he found himself momentarily dumbstruck in the heady scent of this man. The closer he got, the easier it was to be pulled in by his sheer energy. Draco would have loved to be able to see his aura – it was no doubt stunning. For lack of better words, he paraphrased Jean-Paul. "So petite mère is your aunt? And you're her medi-wizard? How is she? Really." Draco grabbed Jean-Paul by the elbow, leading him away from Emmaline's bed. Jean-Paul could see the look of true concern in Draco's face. Draco was sure it wasn't going to be good news, and he didn't want her to overhear their conversation.
"Oh, she'll be fine. Well, as fine as you can be at her age. Her magic is dwindling, Draco." Draco loved the way his name sounded as it rolled off the older man's tongue. He brought himself quickly back to the conversation at hand – as thoughts of tongues was not a good idea at present.
"Dwindling?"
Jean-Paul nodded. "She's going to get better, but she is going to have to start slowing down. I don't know what possessed her to buy this store; it's too much work for her to handle alone. I've told her she must stay in bed all week, and she's not to do any magic – of any kind." He said the last louder, for Emmaline's benefit. Even though she appeared to be now sleeping peacefully, Draco knew she would be listening carefully. Jean-Paul continued.
"You know, I'm rather glad you're here." Draco raised an eyebrow. "If she was completely alone, I would have insisted she be admitted to a hospital, but I can see you care for her..."
"She's like a mother to me," Draco interrupted. Jean-Paul nodded in understanding.
"Will you look after her? I can't stay." The medi-wizard looked around the room surreptitiously. "I'm really not supposed to be practising in Paris, but Tante Em was so ill when she flooed, I came straight over." He grabbed a parchment and quill, and quickly started writing.
"What do you mean you aren't supposed to be practising in Paris?" Draco wasn't so sure about Jean-Paul's credentials right now.
"I'm working in Marrakesh, and I could be struck off the Moroccan register if they find I've left the country to work." Draco accepted the explanation, relieved that Jean-Paul wasn't supposed to be forbidden from practising due to nefarious reasons. The medi-wizard finished making the list, and passed it to Draco. "I need you to get these potions for her." He pulled out a bag and put a number of galleons on the table.
Draco looked at the list. "No problem, these are simple enough for me to brew..."
Jean-Paul looked up at Draco in surprise. "You don't have to brew them – they are easy to get over the counter at any apothecary."
For the first time Draco smiled at the other wizard. "Hey, potions major here – I could brew these medicinal potions for her with my eyes closed. Why trust something from the apothecary? Who knows how old their ingredients are. Besides, it's nothing. I brew Wolfsbane in my spare time!" Draco had a sudden urge to show off in front of Jean-Paul.
He was rewarded with a smile, and a firm hand on his shoulder. "Well then, I guess I should be glad that you're around."
Draco could have sworn that Jean-Paul's tone was flirtatious. Merlin, just what I don't need or want right now! He looked away from the other wizard and fidgeted – something he had never done before. I promised Flash I wasn't going to get involved with anyone. The first ruddy wizard I meet and I'm already checking him out and he's flirting. Why now? Why do I always have to do things the hard way?
The medi-wizard flooed away, but not until after he promised he would return to keep an eye on Emmaline. Draco gave him his own floo address, and it was a good few minutes after Jean-Paul left that Draco let out the breath he didn't realise he'd been holding the whole time he'd looked into Jean-Paul's eyes. He cursed inwardly. Why was he checking out the other wizard – didn't he just make a resolution saying he wasn't going to do that?
Shaking his head, he checked on Emmaline one more time before heading out to get what he needed to make her medicines. As he headed back out into the street, he realised it was probably perfectly natural for him to feel that way around Jean-Paul. After all – I can look at the menu, I just promised myself I wasn't going to eat!
"Draco. Wake up Mon Cheri." The words buzzed in his brain as he came to wakefulness. As he opened one eye, he saw Emmaline's smiling face – crooked but smiling. The crick in his neck told him that he had once again fallen asleep at the counter of the store. Emmaline's wand produced the only light in the room.
"Wha... Emmaline! You're not supposed to be doing magic! Stop that!" He looked over at the clock before extinguishing her light and lighting his own candles. "Oh, did I miss your last dose? Sorry. I better go and make it for you now." Draco turned to go upstairs, his eyes barely able to stay open.
"Draco Malfoy! You listen to me!" Emmaline's tone was firm. "As much as you have helped me this past week, I love you dearly – almost like a son." She cupped his chin in her hands. "But it's about time I put my foot down. Jean-Paul has been overly cautious." Draco opened his mouth to protest, but Emmaline put her finger against his lips to stop the protest. "I cannot believe you have been missing classes to keep my store open, then attempting to do makeup work during the nights. I'm sure that was not what my nephew had in mind when he asked for your help."
Draco nodded in understanding. He had felt a little guilty that he had not seen Emmaline in the few days leading up to her illness. To make up for it, he opened the store in her stead, and sold the books, and made the coffee. Each night, after closing, he would come upstairs, prepare Emmaline's medicines, and then work on his missed lectures. After a week of this hectic schedule, Draco was running on pure adrenaline – and caffeine. He barely had time to shower and feed himself before it was time to re-open the store to customers.
Draco barely realised that Emmaline had dragged him up the stairs to his own studio, and was insisting he go to bed.
"But petite mère, what about you? You can't be better yet..."
The old witch laughed. "Oh, I'm more than fine. Jean-Paul is an alarmist. I just needed a couple of days rest. I'll be fine, and I'll be opening the store tomorrow morning." She stopped Draco's protest in his tracks. "Besides, you need to concentrate on your studies. Far be it from me to be the one to cause you to fail."
Draco smiled at Emmaline. "Oh, I'm up to date with my schedule, I won't fail. But Jean-Paul said you should not be working hard. Nobody wants to see you run yourself into the ground. I don't know how you keep up. I've done this a week, and I'm exhausted!"
"How about we talk about this in the morning Draco? When I'm ready for my next potion." Neither Emmaline, or Draco would back down from their stance, so they would continue in the morning. Draco nodded, and closed the door behind him, as he heard Emmaline's door close as well.
It was all Draco could do to scrub his teeth before going to bed, but he persisted. "My dear, you look terrible." The mirror in the bathroom was used to paying out compliments, and feeding Draco's vanity. Draco scowled as he looked into the mirror, and saw that it was right – he did look terrible. A week with barely any sleep would do that to a person.
Draco felt better as he made his way down to open the store the next morning. Having managed a good solid six hours sleep, he was more rested than he had been all week. He was stunned to smell the coffee beans already ground, and see the blinds already up in the store. Emmaline was humming merrily as she carried a bag of coffee beans from the storeroom.
"Emmaline, what are you doing?" Draco snatched the bag from her, before carrying it the rest of the way to bench.
"I'm opening the store today Draco, and before you argue – I'm not having you get sick as well. Besides, Jean-Paul is coming over this afternoon, and he will be able to see that I'm coping fine."
Draco looked at her with concern. "But what about your magic – if you start doing too much, it might disappear." He was surprised by Emmaline's hearty laugh.
"Is that what Jean-Paul told you?" She brushed Draco away with another laugh. "He's a brilliant medi-wizard, but he's hopeless at seeing Muggle diseases when he comes across them."
"Muggle? What do you mean?" Now Draco was more confused.
"I think I caught some sort of flu – not wizard flu. But when you get the Muggle flu, your magic does dwindle. I'm feeling almost back to my old self. Now, why don't you go to classes for a change? There could be some handsome new student there you haven't yet been introduced to." Draco rolled his eyes at her obvious attempt at humour.
"You know there's nobody out there I need right now, don't you petite mère? I'm fine just the way things are." Emmaline pouted as she booted him out the door on his way to l'Institut. As she watched him head down the narrow street he turned and gave her a friendly wave. A wry smile crossed her face and she murmured under her breath. "Oh, but there is someone out there for you all right, you just don't know you need him - yet."
The day had been long, and Draco had been grateful for the notes he had acquired for his missed week of lectures. It was a rather tired Draco that opened the door to the store late that afternoon. As he crossed the threshold, he immediately noticed Jean-Paul sitting at Draco's favourite table up on the mezzanine. He took a moment to study the man's serious expression and the angular lines of his handsome face. The slope of his chin drew Draco's eyes down to the tiny bit of visible skin just below the man's Adam's apple. Draco fought with thoughts of licking that skin and tried not to look too eager as he slowly climbed the stairs to join the medi-wizard for coffee. A stern glare in Emmaline's direction indicated to Jean-Paul that he did not approve of her back at work in the store.
"Bonjour, Draco." Jean-Paul smiled at Draco as they sat down. Emmaline soon had coffee ready for both men.
"I'm sorry Jean-Paul, I tried to stop her, but she wouldn't listen..." Jean-Paul put a hand up in protest to stop Draco.
"It's all right now, Draco. She's already told me off for being a little overly worried about her. I didn't think she could have caught a Muggle disease – I just don't think of these things sometimes." As Jean-Paul stared, Draco could feel the effect of those eyes on his own body. He looked away quickly, not willing to let himself get involved in that way. Not one to be ignored, Jean-Paul put his hand on Draco's shoulder.
"I want to thank you my friend, for everything you have done for Tante Em. She is a stubborn old witch, and if you had not been here, well, I think I would have probably had a hard time keeping her away from the store."
Draco smiled back. This wizard was intriguing, and Draco didn't really know what he wanted to do. Shag him, definitely, but no, he promised himself he wouldn't think like that. "So you're back in Paris. What about the Moroccans? Won't they be upset?"
Jean-Paul shook his head and smiled, not bothering to hide his confident pleasure at the knowledge that Draco had remember this detail. "No, I gave my employers advanced notice of my trip, and that is okay with the sheik. I will have to go back soon. But I would like to come back to Paris again – soon." Draco could not mistake the flirtatious undertones of the smoky voice. "Perhaps you'd like to join me for dinner one night?"
Draco was thoroughly confused. Here he was, trying very hard not to let this man get to him, and he was being asked out to dinner. Mild panic set in as he pondered his answer. He really wanted to go to dinner with this gorgeous and intriguing man. He wanted to know all about living and working in Marrakesh. But the responsible part of his brain was telling him not to agree to the date. "I... I'm not sure that would be such a good idea." The dejection in his voice belied his words. "I'm not terribly good company these days Jean-Paul."
The older wizard nodded, as a small sign of disappointment crossed his face. "Well perhaps a drink instead. We've managed to make it through this one, and I don't find your company at all displeasing." Jean-Paul indicated his empty coffee cup, and Draco could not mistake his words for anything but flirtatious this time. "Perhaps dinner will have to wait until we've had a few drinks."
Draco sighed and smiled, relieved at the other suggestion. No promises were made and nothing was exchanged between the wizards, yet Draco would get to spend some more time in the presence of this amazing man. His smile was genuine, but he refrained from touching Jean-Paul again, still not trusting himself after their last meeting.
"I'd like that very much."
Draco was still shaking his head hours later as he was attempting research over his latest assignments. Am I crazy? I promised myself I wasn't going to do this again. But then again – it is only a drink – not a shag. Hell, we haven't even snogged. Is that what I want? You can't be alone forever Draco Malfoy, no matter what crazed ideas you had earlier this year. You have to get out more. You don't want to end up as bitter and repressed as Severus, do you?
Convincing himself had been hard, but he would go and have a drink with Jean-Paul. What harm was in that? After all, this was one gorgeous man, and his eye was firmly on Draco.
Part 3: When I Look At The World.
January 27 2003
Dear Draco,
Despite years of being your teacher and confidante, despite years of working beside you in the worst working conditions in the world, and despite having to save your hide more than once, I find it disturbing that you now consider me unworthy of responding to the simplest of Yuletide greetings. I'd expect something like that from a Gryffindor. Since when have you been associating with the likes of them?
I've come to count on two things in my dotage – the imminent arrival of my retirement when the next Weasley enrols at Hogwarts, and the fact that I can usually set my clocks by the arrival of your ever so regular correspondence. I thought the worst when I did not receive a response to my Yuletide missive. Alas, I confess to not finding any obituaries about you, but I could not help but wonder if you had died. Either that, or you had succumbed to the siren of the debauched Parisian student lifestyle. Your recent letter proved my suspicion that it was most likely the latter.
I wonder if your 'preoccupation' as you so kindly put it, had anything to do with trying to brew your own absinthe, as most potions students in Paris are wont to do. What is it with most potions students? Do you all think you are better than the most experienced Masters? Why do you all insist that it be more potent than the tried and true recipe? It's the most deadly libation on this earth! I for one have never been able to see the attraction, but then again, if you ever ask me about my own experiences with the green fairy, I will deny them unequivocally.
But I'm sure those French think they are the only ones who know how to brew the dreadful concoction. Why you chose to study with that bunch of idealistic imbeciles is still beyond my comprehension. You would have done much better studying here on home soil, but who am I to tell a Malfoy what to do? But then I'm sure you are sick of my constant stream of complaints about your lecturers. I'm sure half of them wouldn't have been capable of sitting through my NEWT classes.
As disappointed as I am at not having to attend your funeral, I thought I would return the results of the latest batch of Wolfsbane improvements. Professor Lupin was most eager to try them out (typical Gryffindor – goes in head first without thinking – you could have poisoned him for all he knew). I confess to not ever considering ground vervain leaves in the slightest form. Well done.
I am so grateful your 'preoccupation' appears to be over. Can I look forward to your regularly scheduled missives once more? As you know I have no life, and I do enjoy living vicariously through yours.
Regards,
Severus.
P.S. I've also enclosed the latest front page of the Prophet. No doubt this news will mean that it will be even longer before you return to these shores, which I regret sorely.
Draco was pleased to hear from Severus. He always hated how the mail took at least a day to arrive from England.
He always looked forward to the correspondence from conversing with the acerbic and witty professor. Having worked beside him during the war, he had seen a side of Professor Snape that very few had witnessed. The Slytherin Potions master was as perceptive as ever, and had surmised that Draco's lack of correspondence was partly due to alcohol, and no small part due to his own love life – which was totally correct. Draco suddenly realised that he could always claim Severus as one of his friends. A friend, but not quite a confidante. The only person he could think of in that way, incredibly, was Flash.
As he opened the results of the Wolfsbane experiments Severus had attached to the letter, he was pleased to note that they had been a success, and that the vervain had indeed reacted as he had anticipated. Feeling more than a little pleased, he unfolded the promised page of the Daily Prophet. Draco rarely read the Prophet these days, his interest in the goings on in England not that important to him any more. Every now and then, like now, Severus would owl him any important news. Extremely important news would be on the front of the French papers, but Draco had not read any this past week – he had been so busy with the store.
The pleased grin on his face soured as he saw the picture adorning the front page. A sea of Weasleys assaulted his vision, all smiling and waving happily. Draco barely saw the headline as he clamped eyes on the one non-redhead in the picture. Potter. The scowl returned to Draco's face, and for a brief second, he misread the article, and thought that Potter had been made the new Minister of Magic. He read the article announcing Arthur Weasley's ascendance into the coveted position. Draco was loathe to admit that the man would be ten times better in the position than Fudge. Draco would have even grudgingly admitted that Potter might even do a better job than Fudge, but he could see the cause of Severus' concern.
If Weasley was now Minister, then Draco knew that the trustees of his father's estate might have an even rougher time, and it would no doubt mean that more taxes would have to be paid to the Ministry. Draco knew that no love was ever lost between Lucius and Arthur, but as his gaze bore into that of Ron Weasley's, he knew that even now the stupid prat would be egging his father on to bankrupt the Malfoy Estates. He barely gave the smirking face of Ginny Weasley the time of day, but did manage to place his thumb right on her face as he read the article. The small hands flailed about as Draco got some satisfaction from this small yet fruitless revenge on the stupid bint.
Despite Draco's recent congenial behaviour, the scowl reserved for Potter was still filled with as much hatred as he had ever felt for the saviour of the Wizarding World. Even now, when the news had nothing to do with the overrated wizard, he has to get his smarmy mug in the paper. Always gatecrashing other people's glory, Potter was. Draco was ready to tear the offending picture to shreds, when he noticed the interesting byplay behind the scenes in the photograph. With so many Weasleys' in the picture, Draco had a hard time telling most of them apart. The caption identified the man in question as Charlie Weasley. Draco had not failed to notice the man's gaze as it wasn't directed at the camera, or at his father like his siblings. This wizard had eyes for only one, and it was Potter.
See, even that prick's fan club doesn't stray far from him, he thought. But Draco knew that look – he had seen it before, on the faces of those in pubs and clubs. He had even seen it as recently as his disastrous trip to Roussillon. He's eyeing up Potter – and the stupid git knows it! Look – he's even giving him the eye back. It was true – the newspaper Potter was regularly turning and smiling at this Charlie Weasley in that knowing way. Merlin! Even Potter's getting some, and with a Weasley! That's sick. Draco counted any encounter with a Weasley as being sick, particularly after his own recent encounter with Ginny.
At the thought of Ginny Weasley, he ground his thumb harder into the face on the photograph of the sly witch, and his temper flared as he again saw Charlie Weasley wink knowingly over at Potter. Draco tore the paper to shreds. He couldn't bear to look at it any longer. He fed the shreds to the fire as he let out a frustrated scream.
He couldn't blame Severus for sending the paper to him. After all, the news that Arthur Weasley was Minister was certainly something Draco needed to be aware of. He knew for certain now that he would not be returning to England any time soon, and that he might just even make Paris his base of operations for the rest of his life. That idea seemed particularly appealing at present.
Despite the late hour, Draco grabbed his cloak. He needed to get out and clear his head. There were too many things going on inside his head. Jean-Paul had affected him in so many ways, yet he wanted desperately to be true to his word with Flash. He wanted to be happy within himself. Seeing the new Minister and Potter had just added more confusion to the jumble of thoughts in his over active mind. He needed to sort himself out. It was a beautiful clear night in Paris. The snow had begun to clear, and the stars shone brightly in the fading moonlight.
Draco thought on the enigma that was Jean-Paul as he walked. The older medi-wizard had affected Draco the moment he met him, but why now, of all times, did Draco have to meet this beautiful man? Especially after promising himself that he wasn't going to get involved with anyone again, at least not until he was happy within himself. Merlin! Even Potter's getting some, if that photo is anything to go by. Why then am I so desperate 'not' to get involved with Jean-Paul? Draco wasn't upset by the fact that Potter, the Boy Who Lived to be Gay, seemed to be eyeing up one of the Weasley boys. Rather, it was the fact that Draco was being presented with his own dilemma.
It wasn't hard to notice the overt gazes Jean-Paul had given him. Draco had felt the attraction from the moment he laid eyes on the man. But he had made a promise to himself – a promise that he intended to keep. He needed to talk to Flash about this man. His own mind was a confused jumble of emotions. At the forefront, was sheer lust. How could it not be when gazing at Jean-Paul? But he tried so hard not to think of him at all – he couldn't afford to. It was his sheer lack of control over his own lustful thoughts that had led him to the actions he was trying so hard to avoid.
Draco pondered this point for a long time as he walked. He didn't realise just how far from home he had roamed as he thought long an hard on what he truly wanted out of life, and whether or not Jean-Paul was included in that future. It was such a pleasant night for a walk in Paris. The moonlight added an eerie quality to the Muggle street lamps and Draco was nearly lost. Noticing the spires of Notre Dame in the near distance, he realised that he had wandered onto the Pont Neuf, and had crossed the Seine. The brisk walk – well, brisk by Draco's standards – had done little to improve his confusion over Jean-Paul. One part of him just wanted to grab the wizard and be shagged senseless by the man's grace and beauty, whilst the other part of him wanted to do as he had promised, and stick to his resolutions – being polite and friendly to Jean-Paul, just without anything physical.
As for Potter, well Draco had all but forgotten the bane of his existence. What did he care if the fool was shacking up with a Weasley? The two gits probably deserved each other, Draco thought wryly. As the thought of Potter shagging anyone nearly turned his stomach, the wretched image of the git all naked and wet from the Quidditch showers invaded his mind again, and he shook his head violently to get rid of it. Damn that Jean-Paul. Draco's heart rate soared at the thought of Jean-Paul, and continued to race as that traitorous thought of a naked Harry Potter stepped into his head again.
As he walked along the park on the bank of the Seine, Draco avoided further thought. He couldn't trust his own thoughts to keep his mind off his woes, so he began to clear his mind, and looked around. His knee told him that he needed to take a short rest. He took the opportunity to rest on a low wall surrounding the park. He sat for a moment, looking down as the reflected moonlight rippled across the Seine.
A throaty laugh invaded his ears. It was a moment before he realised the sound was coming from under the trees. He turned to his left. The laughter had been replaced with the sound of low voices, followed by the unmistakeable sounds of kissing. The sound invaded his mind, and he scowled. He didn't need anything to fuel his erotic visions. The street lamps were a fair distance away, making it rather dark under the trees in the park. Squinting, Draco could just make out the outline of a couple – one with their back to the tree, the other pinning him there with strong arms.
The silhouette of the pair showed that they were obviously a wizard couple – their long robes wrapped around them against the cold, and the taller wizard moved to brush stray hair from the other's face. The relaxed laughter punctuated the couple's soft murmuring voices, and Draco could see from the bobbing Adam's apples that it was a pair of wizards involved in the embrace. It was too dark to see their faces, but from the sound of lust in their voices and the friction of their kisses, Draco could not help but watch. His own body reacted to the lustfully bold display of blatant sexuality.
As much as he would have loved to stay and watch, Draco stood quickly. That was the last thing he needed to see this night. Not that it was abnormal to find lovers kissing in Paris, but right now the last thing he needed to watch was two wizards having a seemingly raunchy good time whilst he was completely missing out on all the action. As he stood, his knee protested, and rather than continue the walk, which had done nothing to clear his mood now, he quickly moved back into the shadows and Apparated back to his studio.
He woke the next morning with the taste of old socks in his mouth. He groaned as he recalled his impromptu drinking binge upon his return home from his walk. The turmoil in his mind had only been exacerbated by his walk, so he did the only thing possible – he drowned his sorrows in alcohol. Luckily, he only had wine in his studio, so he had a devil of a time getting himself drunk. After three bottles of his finest wine (his own label, naturally) he was drunk enough to fall asleep.
As he began the almost routine steps in making a Sobrietus potion, he noticed the journal lay open on the desk. He smiled for a moment, gathering his thoughts. He made his potion first, then put the coffee on, allowing himself the ability to read Flash's words at his own leisure.
January 28th 2003
Luc,
I was looking back over our last conversation Luc, and it led me to thinking about Ollie. There's little that will stop me from thinking of Ollie at present, actually. In mentioning that he's got a certain refined quality as well as a slight roughness, I neglected to explain that there's something about that dichotomy which really intrigues me. It's not just Ollie; I remember having similar attractions toward certain schoolmates because there was a mystery about them, a dark, sexy side that excited me in the deep recesses of my fantasizing imagination. Yet they always had an air of sophistication and culture and poise that I found incredibly attractive and romantic. I've realised now that Ollie is a bit lacking in the poise and culture aspect.
I took him out for his birthday, somewhat amazed that he could actually get the entire day and night off from work. Your suggestion was perfect! That restaurant was exactly what I was looking for and offered lovely romantic ambiance and exceptionally delicious food. The wine list was so extensive and included such great selections. I imagine Heaven would have such a wine list! So, anyway, whilst the sommelier was explaining their top selections to us, Ollie was staring off into space. I settled on a Burgundy, excellent vintage, and was very impressed with it. Much to my chagrin, Ollie took a sip or two, and promptly ordered himself a beer.
I guess that makes me seem a little pompous and snooty, and I swear I'm not always like that. Hell, sometimes I'm just the opposite – or maybe I'm just schizophrenic.
Draco laughed as he read Flash's words. He too would have felt the same way had his date ordered a beer at Joël Robuchon's. This Ollie sounded uncouth and, had Flash not mentioned otherwise, totally Muggleborn in his ways. Still, he thought, this guy is smitten. Besides, if anyone had tried that on me in that place, I probably would have turfed them out the door. Despite his pleasure at seeing Flash's words, he couldn't help but feel a little sad that even Flash was in love – everyone seemed to be in love, yet he was trying his hardest not to succumb to it.
Anyway, we had a wonderful dinner and went for a walk around Ile de la Cite. The Seine is so lovely at night. The moon reflected on the water by Pont Neuf and I felt incredibly cuddlesome and romantic. We stopped at one point, he'd said something about his work schedule and we just paused to discuss it. That's when we first noticed the way the moonlight shone across the river and the lights around Notre Dame reflected in stark blocks of colour. I felt so incredibly in touch with him at that moment, Luc. I'm only telling you this because…well you said you wanted details and frankly, I don't know that anyone else would understand it.
Anyway, Merlin! When he kissed me, somehow it was like the first time we'd ever kissed. Hell it was like I was truly being kissed for the first time ever! I may have wished for more poise during dinner, but the dark, rough side of him came out as we stood there. I had my back against a tree, and we were just in the edge of a shadow. I knew there were people around, people that could see us embracing and for just a tiny moment, I didn't care. I'm usually self-conscious about it, and it was exhilarating to realize that it could be so exciting, so arousing. I got caught up in the sensations, nearly forgetting our location, as he nibbled at my neck and ear and collarbone. When he pulled me closer and it hit me how aroused we both were, I decided it was time to cool things off. After all, I may be titillated for a moment by people watching me kiss, but I wasn't about to be shagged on a Paris street!
Draco sat back for a moment, realising just what Flash had said. Flash had been in Paris last night. Draco had been in the same spot – at Pont Neuf, and had wandered through the park overlooking Notre Dame. Flash's description of being kissed up against a tree was exactly what Draco spotted. Did I see him? Did I really see Flash, and Ollie? He tried to work through the haze of his now dwindling hangover to recall the finer details, but could only recall the fact it was two wizards kissing – merely outlines and not faces he could hold on to. If Flash had been up against the tree, then Ollie was a couple of inches taller than him, and his hair was a little shorter. As for any further details, well, Draco was at a loss for those. He felt quite excited at the thought it was his new friend he had seen the night before.
To tell you the absolute truth, I'm not sure what happened next. I mentioned our hotel room, thinking it would be just the place to continue our activities. I had it all set up with candles and a whirlpool bath. I was envisioning a quiet romantic evening to celebrate his birthday and make up for all the time we would be apart. I thought that's what he wanted too, but suddenly he was griping and complaining about getting a beer and checking out Muggle clubs and animatedly proclaiming that last night's Manchester United victory needed proper celebrating. I don't even know when he became a football fan!
Well somehow this became an argument. Oh, we did indeed go back to the hotel (though it was hell trying to find a safe Apparation spot), and we eventually had the romantic evening, but it took some time getting there. It's a good thing that Wizarding hotels have sound charms on each room. I'm sure it's done more so for the sex sounds than anything, but our argument was pushing the barriers of the charms in our room. It was all about the dumbest little things, like how he can't stand to be alone but he doesn't like most people, or how I'm too particular and expect him to be someone he's not. He complained about my dead-end job and I complained about his lack of concern for anything resembling responsibility. He yelled about how I don't seem to have any ambition and I screamed about his inability to grow up and act like an adult. We fought about how well we know each other, or don't know each other, and whether or not it was a bad sign that I didn't know what he would have preferred to do for his birthday.
Just as it was all about to explode in my face and I was ready to tell him to bugger off, he asked me why in the name of Merlin I would take him to such a ritzy place in a foreign city, then drag him around for a walk in the dark! Despite the fact that the answer seemed obvious, overlooking his utter disdain for the romance of the evening, completely ignoring his ignorance in all things special or extraordinary, I answered him.
"Because I wanted to show you that I love you," I said to him. Yep. That's right, Luc. I told him I loved him, and in the middle of an argument no less. Of course, the moment I said it I wondered if I was crazy, if I was mistaken. What made me so sure of those words? I still have a nagging voice in the back of my head telling me that I don't really know what love is, yet. No matter, I'm sure it's just my normal insecurities.
So of course, after flooring him with a statement like that, Ollie did what any sexually active, warm-blooded, adult male would do. He grinned like a loon and proceeded to attack me. Suffice to say the sex was amazing, the foreplay even better and I'm wearing high collars to work all week!Yes, I'm grinning as I write this. A big goofy grin that just seems plastered to my face. The best part of it is the look on his face just after he comes. It doesn't happen quite when he comes, that's just a normal screwed up orgasm face. No, the look I'm talking about is this incredibly sweet, satiated, blissful expression that just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I think it's a look of pure love. It's something that only I will ever see. It makes me feel a million things, only one of which is more precious than I've ever felt before.
So, there you go. Details – you asked for them. I certainly didn't intend to ramble on for this long, but I do hope you've enjoyed the read. And how has your week been? I do hope the cauldrons are doing all right and you haven't had any more explosions. I meant to tell you, in regards to getting in touch with yourself and finding out what really makes you happy, I have an assignment for you.
Think about your past, everything you can remember about it and list the top five times you can remember being truly and completely happy. If you've got a really shite past, then go with as close to happy as you can imagine being. List them and write a couple of sentences about each; what made you happy, how long it lasted, why it ended, that type of thing. Think long and hard about it, as you stir your cauldrons, and then write it all down and look over it. Then, add one more thing that you think would make you even happier – something that hasn't actually happened. You might find a connection. Let me know. I'd love to read the list if you feel like sharing it, but I'll understand if you don't.
Until later,
Flash
Draco sat back, grinning as he reached the end. Well, the night certainly seemed a success, he thought. He told him he loved him! Merlin, that's a huge step. Draco remembered the last time he told someone he loved them. Antonio – not long before they broke up. The time before that – well, he was planning on saying it to Millard, but the other wizard told Draco it was all over. The only time he had said it and it had been returned, well, that was so far in the past, he could barely remember her voice. The vision of Devon saying it was at the forefront of his mind, and he quickly exorcised the image.
He was quite surprised at the level of detail Flash gave him, but then again, he had asked for it. Just reading the words helped put his confused mind at rest. He really needed to put things into perspective. Here Draco was, concerning himself about Jean-Paul, when he should really be trying to be happy within himself first. He would think of Flash's assignment.
At first, he could not think of a single happy memory. This assignment would take time. At least it might take his mind off his confusion over Jean-Paul. Perhaps he could stop being so serious and start being the person he used to be – just without all the baggage he normally carried around. He wouldn't reply to Flash just yet. He wanted to do this assigned task properly, and he would hopefully find what he was looking for.
Février 1, 2003
Bonjour Flash,
I was reading about your wonderful night in Paris, and I must say thank you for your very vivid details of the night. I've started working on your assignment, but I've got loads of other things to tell you too. I just had to get some of them off my chest before I put all my effort into my 'happy thoughts'. Just where do I start?
Draco paused for a moment. He wanted to tell Flash everything. It had been a couple of days since he read Flash's last entry. He thought he could take his mind off Jean-Paul, but he couldn't get the other wizard out of his head. Writing it down would help him get his thoughts in order. Adjusting his reading glasses yet again, he dipped the quill in the ink, but stopped when he saw the deep purple words begin to flow across the page.
Hello Luc! I was just rummaging around for a book to read and saw the journal open up!
Oh, hey! rummaging around for a book - you mean you're not going to watch television? I thought you'd be rather busy with Ollie. After all, didn't you profess your undying love to him?
No, unfortunately I'm alone tonight. Ollie's gone back to work, and well... I thought about turning on the telly, and watching one of my favourite shows or something, but I kept thinking about what you said... you know spending hours at it when I could get a good story from a book...
I didn't think you'd take my words so literally. I thought you might have been a little upset about your little bit of a fight with Ollie before you ended up being snogged senseless. You two obviously have something special. It's unrealistic to think it will always be wine and roses, so your fight was probably quite normal. We all get frustrated at times. Perhaps he's not one for surprises, and the fight was the result of that.
You know, you are right. I never really understood the meaning of 'make-up sex' before, but now – well, let's say that I'll let you imagine the details.
Can't say I've ever really had 'make-up sex' before either, but you've just confirmed what I've been told in the past. I must confess that I've been thinking a lot about what you asked of me in your last entry - about my past and the times I have been really and truly happy. I have had to do plenty of soul searching for that, and I really have only come up with one time that fit your criteria, but I'll try to broaden my definition of happy just a bit. Just as I keep coming up with scenes where I thought I was happy, something, or someone has usually stopped me from reaching my ultimate goal.
I...I really don't know what to say to that, Luc. It seems so sad and lonely. I hate to think of anyone feeling that way. I mean, I haven't always had the best of times, but I can say that I've had some very happy times... I'm sorry, I wish I ... well, I'm sorry.
Oh don't be too sad for me, I've managed to survive thus far, and I've still got the rest of my life ahead of me. I've come to realise that I am probably my own worst enemy. A lot of the time it was my own high standards that got in the way of happiness. I guess my family got in the way at other times - my father in particular, and since the war, well, things have improved somewhat. Of course, now, I've let my own libido ruin some good relationships, and any possible chance of happiness on that front. I'm trying very hard not to let it control me, and I am currently being sorely tested. Remember the resolutions I solemnly made at the New Year?
Yes, I remember. I must say I think a year of celibacy is a bit much myself (I doubt I'd have the fortitude to maintain a vow like that!), but if you're determined, I'm sure you can do it.
Well, there's this amazing man I met - I wasn't looking for anyone, he's a medi-wizard and he was helping my landlady, who's been very ill. I've been trying so hard not to be overly eager - I'm trying to be very gentlemanly, but had I met him last year, we would have probably been shagging like oversexed rabbits by now... so far we've just smiled, and I shook his hand. That was hard to let go...
All right then, are you leaving it at that because of the resolution, or because of something else?
I don't know. I... I'm just perhaps too scared. I promised myself I wasn't going to let my libido guide me, and this man just oozes sex. He's about 30ish, and... well I'm sure if you met him you'd dump Ollie like a hot potato. He's got that air of confidence about everything he does - but I think perhaps I should take it slowly. I mean with all my past lovers, it's been all about the sex - then we developed our friendships around that - and then things just blew up. I'm thinking I should try the opposite approach, friends first. You say that that's worked for you and Ollie?
Yes, I've always believed that any serious relationship must start with both parties understanding each other, and having an honest caring friendship. On the other hand, as long as both parties are both willing and have an understanding that there are no strings attached, I see nothing wrong with a sexual arrangement when a relationship isn't a desire or an option. So the question is, do you want a relationship with him, or do you just want to shag him senseless?
It's so hard... I just want to shag him senseless, or let him shag me to the wall - preferably both - and on a regular basis. But he's so intriguing. He's working at the moment in Marrakesh. So exotic, and he seems well, almost too perfect. I think I'm just going to stick to my original plan, and take it one day at a time, and not let my lower anatomy do my thinking for me, as it has done so often in the past. I don't yet know if I want a relationship with him – I barely know him, but I'm feeling this amazing sexual attraction, and I can't stop thinking about him. I suppose at this point I really want regular sexual gratification, and nothing else. But I'm not letting my libido guide me. So the day by day plan seems to be the best thing, doesn't it?
Yes - absolutely! I would suggest that you not take this beyond handshakes and tea until you know what you want, and preferably, what he wants as well. That way, you don't run the risk of following your libido and regretting it later.
Glad you approve! Although I don't think he's a tea kind of man. He's a full bodied, rich and exotic blend of coffee with a hint of aromatic herbs and spices. But enough about me. Now, how's Ollie been since your little sojourn in Paris? Has he expressed his undying love back to you?
Yes, he has. Well, he did that night and the following morning anyway. I haven't really seen him since I wrote, though. In fact, he owled today to tell me that he won't have another break until the 23rd of the month, so I've decided to surprise him for Valentine's day. I really don't want to miss out on spending it with him, especially after his birthday. It's a special day for those in love, so we should make the most of it, right?
Oh, that's a brilliant idea. That would be such a nice surprise. You know, I just remembered this, but after I read your very thorough details of your date in Paris, I saw that you mentioned your little walk out by Pont Neuf, and that Ollie was thoroughly kissing you up by a tree, and you didn't care that anyone saw you? Well... I was out for a walk then as well, and I think I saw you. I can't be sure, but how many wizards would be lip locked up against a tree in that particular place on that particular night? Don't worry, I couldn't see terribly well... It was awfully dark, and my reading glasses prescription might need a little adjusting (If you ask me that tomorrow, I might not admit that!)... but after I read your words, I thought it had to be you and Ollie. He's about two inches taller than you? dark hair? you've got dark hair?
There was a rather long pause before Flash replied. For a moment, Draco thought the worst. Oh no, I've managed to freak Flash out. He's probably sitting there cursing and swearing. He was more than a little relieved to see the purple words appear again.
Um, yes, I do believe that was us. As you said, how many wizards would be there... and we both have dark hair, though I don't know why you assume he's the taller one.
I caught a silhouette... he seemed to be a little taller than you... anyway. well, there you go. It truly is a small world. I wasn't the best of company that night. Jean-Paul (that's Monsieur Amazing's name) had me all confunded, and I'd just read something that put me in a rather bad mood. I needed to go for a walk and clear the air. I guess I was a little miffed that I was the only one not getting any action (albeit I was trying not to) and I think just watching you after what had been going on all day just put it all into perspective for me.
Sorry, I just realized that you could guess I was the one by the tree because I mentioned it, and therefore you could easily deduce that he was the taller one. You took me by surprise for a moment there. I'm sorry you were having a bad night, I do hope that whatever you read wasn't anything too horrible, but feel free to talk about it if you'd like. I must say I was a little excited by the prospect of people who could be watching, but it's something else entirely to know that you were watching. I guess that sounds strange, and I've never thought of myself as a sexual freak, but it definitely stirs up some interesting ideas. Oh Merlin - I do wish I could get into the habit of thinking before I write. Now I've got myself blushing again.
Ha ha ha, and your writing has turned red again... you changed your ink - no wait - it went red the last time you blushed. Come to think of it, back in your last entry, when you were describing your romantic interlude at Pont Neuf, it went crimson then too. Hmmm. That's interesting. Well, I would have stayed to enjoy the show you boys were putting on, and normally I would have (being such the voyeur that I am) but it was like I had been bombarded by all these images of people in love all day - people kissing, hugging, even coy looks. The entire day. I'd been trying so hard not to think of Jean-Paul, yet everywhere I looked, people were kissing and I'm sure if I looked through windows I would have caught everyone shagging. Hell, I even saw the front page of last week's Daily Prophet, and it looks like even the Boy Who Lived is being shagged regularly, if that picture of him was anything to go by...
Oh? What kind of picture was it? I don't keep up with the Prophet much. It seems they aren't very newsworthy on most things, you know.
Draco paused for a moment and smiled. Another wizard who really doesn't care much for the Daily Prophet. I knew there was a reason why I liked this Flash fellow so much. He's obviously not keeping up with Potter's gossip column.
Oh, someone sent me the news about your new Minister Of Magic. I'm sure that one of his sons was eyeing off Mr Potter in that photo, and I do believe that the coy looks were being returned. I'm usually pretty good at reading people, and I suspect that something's going on between them - not that I keep up with the gossip pages. It just made me feel like I was the only person in the world not sharing in the love. Ah well, I did promise it to myself, so no sympathy there. I guess the harder I tried not to think about it, the more it was being thrown in my face.
And an incredibly sexy, exotic man like Jean-Paul just makes it harder, doesn't it? I wonder about that ink thing - if the journals alter the colour of my ink when I get embarrassed, would they do it if you got embarrassed, too? You seem to know more about these things, do you know why the ink would change when I blush?
Not a clue. I don't know any more about these journals than I've already told you. I suppose I could ask my landlady. She was the one who acquired it before me. I wonder who used them before? I know there was writing in this one just before I opened it. The writing hastily disappeared, and the pages became blank. But I don't get embarrassed easily, so we'll probably never be able to test your hypothesis. However, I do 'insanely jealous' and 'melodramatic' terribly well to make up for my lack of embarrassing times. I can't recall the last time I was embarrassed...
Hmm. This journal had writing in it, too. I can't be certain, but as the journal was in a vault of my godfather's, I think it was his writing. He's long gone now, so I suppose we'll never know. I'm curious, do you do 'insanely jealous' and 'melodramatic' on purpose? And if so, do you do them simultaneously, because that seems like it would take a lot of energy.
Oh I've been known to do both since I was a child... the curse of the only child I think. I've probably done both together, but I can't really remember doing it lately. Melodramatic – yes – I'm slowly getting off the Devon melodrama bandwagon. I last did 'insanely jealous' when I thought someone was eyeing up Antonio in a restaurant, and I dragged him home. But not after I hexed the other guy with the wandering eye.
Hmmm, I'm an only child, too. I wonder if I have those tendencies and just haven't noticed that about myself. I've been meaning to ask you, do you have any special plans for Imbolc? I had hoped to spend it with Ollie, you know, as a symbol of a nice fresh start for things to come. Of course, even if his schedule allowed it, he wouldn't have wanted to. He's incredibly anti-holiday, despite his very traditional upbringing and wizarding heritage.
Hmmm, well now that you mention it, I was invited to a bonfire tomorrow night. I wasn't sure I wanted to go, but now you've had me thinking about happiness, and I've been delving into my past. I really should go - I've got a lot of things I need to get out of my system, and like you say - a nice fresh start. So yes, I guess you've convinced me to go tomorrow night. What about you? Planning on going anywhere alone? Or is this good book or the television going to keep you company?
Oh, if I do go anywhere, it'll be with my best mate. His family is huge and they've sort of adopted me. Of course, if I don't hear from them, I'll just dive into a book or something. I think it's good that you've decided to go. I've noticed that you seem like a bit of a loner, hardly mention anyone but your landlady. Oh - you said earlier she was sick, I hope it's nothing serious?
For the first time Draco realised that he really was a loner. Watching people constantly was enough to ensure Draco was always wary of making friends. But when he was with his lovers, he wasn't such a loner. Oh be honest with yourself Draco, they were always Antonio's or Millard's friends you hung out with when you were together. The only reason you get asked out at any other time is by you classmates, and they only do it because you've most likely intimidated them into that position.
Oh no, my Landlady is better, but she overworks herself, and I have been keeping busy this week looking after her store in between studying and research. I've had to throw myself even further into my work to keep up with everything. I did get a little run down, but a few pepper-up potions, and I'm back on deck. You are right about me being a loner. I guess I never made any really close friends. I have a couple, but they are more mentors than friends. I suppose the closest friends I've ever had have always been my lovers. I was always a little wary of friends - before and during the war. Guess old habits die hard. Although, to be honest, I can't believe I've told you so much about myself. Had we met face to face, I probably would have not spoken to you for a long time. I would have watched you and drawn you out before telling anything about myself - these wretched books... I'm forever saying things I normally wouldn't dream of saying.
I know what you mean. There's definitely something about this journal that brings out the inner thoughts when you don't even realize it. I've found myself surprised by them on a number of occasions, the things you say, the way I react, even the fact that I tell you things before I tell others... It's more than a little disconcerting at times. Honestly though, in spite of my normal inhibitions, I can't truly say I regret any of the things I've told you. I mean, I've been thoroughly embarrassed a few times, but not to the point of true regret. It's my reactions that confuse me the most I guess. And this - another prime example of my inner thoughts that I normally wouldn't share.
You know, when you didn't reply for two weeks, I honestly thought you'd abandoned the journal - and I'm almost embarrassed to admit that I became a little obsessed about checking out the journal for a reply... call it typical Virgo behaviour, even though I'm a Leo/Virgo cusp... I probably do border on obsessive about some things. Still, and I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but at the moment, you are probably the closest friend that I have.
Oh? I thought you didn't get embarrassed?
I did say 'almost' embarrassed.
Yes, that's true. Not to worry though, unless of course, the 'wrong way' to take it involves being honoured. I'm still sorry about taking so long to reply. I felt awful about it.
You don't need to. It gave me plenty of time to realise that the world doesn't revolve around me (much to my melodramatic chagrin). You were having a wonderful time with your man, and you are so lucky to be able to have that. I think I'll be all right with Jean-Paul. I'm pretty sure I can do this - be his friend first that is. Perhaps that's a change in the wind that will come after Imbolc. Who knows?
I have faith in you. You'll do fine, just look at us. We're friends now, and you haven't shagged me!
Oh dear! You are a regular comedian. I haven't laughed that hard in ages! Just as well the coffee is long gone - I don't think I could have swallowed it after reading that! But you're right! We haven't shagged. Not unless you are Millard, or Antonio or Devon in disguise, which I'm pretty sure you're not - none of them are English!
My, my… do you often have trouble swallowing? Perhaps that should be your next assignment… Sorry, sometimes I just fall into suggestive comments without thinking about them first.
You're determined to make me blush, aren't you? You're right. That was very wicked, and terribly suggestive, and I'm not going to tell you any more about my swallowing habits, at least if I had any to discuss... You're right though - a year of celibacy is pretty harsh. I know I never managed it through my later school years, and during the war, so why start now? I'll just be a little bit more 'discerning' about my choices...
Wow, your ink turned red for a moment! I have succeeded! Sorry, I don't mean to get us off track here. I think I've mentioned where my train of thought goes when Ollie's not here to let me act on it. I think your plans regarding Jean-Paul and your choices are perfect. Just remember, it's the reasoning behind the resolution that's really important. You don't want to let your sex drive guide you, you don't want to hurt people who might take casual sex as more than it is, you don't want to feel like the pompous cad Antonio was. Those are the important reasons that led you to such a decision. As long as you keep those things in mind and be sensible about your actions, I think you'll do just fine. I also think that if and when things head into a 'friendlier' area with Jean-Paul, you'll be more conscious of your actions and the reasons behind them and that's a good thing. Do keep me up to date on that, and remember you'll be owing me details in return!
Oh I will, I promise. I think I should probably get to sleep soon Flash. The cat is ensconced in my lap, and she's terribly comfortable, and I can barely stop yawning (it's not your company, not by a long shot!) It's going to be a long day leading up to tomorrow's bonfire, and I've got plenty to think on. Did you get around to finding that good book? And don't worry, I'm sure that 'WHEN' Jean-Paul and I get together, you'll be sure to get it in vivid detail – even though you said you weren't a voyeur...
Well, I also said that a man's got to do 'something' to stir the imagination when the boyfriend is out of town. He's gone so much, there will be plenty of opportunity for me to live vicariously through you! I haven't found a book yet. I think I may have to ring an old bookworm friend and ask her for a suggestion. Just can't seem to find anything around here that strikes my interest. I've also got a lot of planning and preparation to do for Valentine's day. Do let me know how the bonfire goes, okay?
I sure will. Why not
try Tolkien again? It works for me every time. You keep me up to date on
Valentines too!
You take care, Flash!
Au Revoir!
G'nite Luc!
Part 4: All that You Can't Leave Behind.
As the sun rose over Paris on the morning of February 2, the more traditional members of the Wizarding community were eagerly cleaning, sweeping and generally preparing their homes and workplaces for that evening's celebration of Imbolc.
As all the Wizarding stores in the Le Quart De Sorcier were closed for the occasion, Emmaline could be found sweeping and lighting candles in the store, all in celebration of the return of the light and Brigid's anniversary. Draco had other things keeping him busy. He had readily agreed to attend the bonfire with her, much to Emmaline's delight. Draco hadn't been to the bonfires for any of the wizarding holidays since he was a young boy – long before he attended Hogwarts. His mother usually took him to the celebrations. Lucius didn't approve of such public displays of 'the old ways', even though as a traditional pureblood, he was a true Pagan.
Draco felt guilty he had nothing to 'offer' to the spiritual bonfire, having cleaned his studio in his rather overzealous purges during the past month. He offered to help Emmaline clean her store so that she could begin the annual re-purification of her workplace, before her own spiritual purification that evening. "Oh, I'll be fine Draco. You just stay there."
"Oh you're not cleaning on your own Emmaline." Draco frowned at Emmaline's stubbornness.
"I tell you what. You stay out of my way today, and I'll let you boss me around tomorrow as we cleanse and purify the store for the coming summer months. Perhaps you should consider your own spiritual cleansing today – why not prepare for the bonfire?"
Draco considered the idea, and that's how he found himself sitting at his favourite table, his reading glasses firmly affixed to his face, his quill in hand, writing down all that he wanted to offer up to the bonfire. He wrote of his hopes and desires for the coming year. That task was quite easy, considering his correspondence with Flash. Very soon, he had a pile of parchments, each containing one hope or desire for his future.
The second part of his task wasn't quite so easy. Between quiet contemplation and furious writing, he was eventually satisfied with the list of items he wanted to expel from his life. That list was quite long, but Draco knew what he wanted to purge from his system. Writing it down was just the hard part. At one stage, he went back to his room, and came down with his journal, busily cross referencing his words with what he had written to Flash.
Draco never saw the satisfied smile on Emmaline's face, not even when she constantly kept him plied with coffee and hot and crusty bread for lunch.
By sunset, the weather had cleared, but a chill wind still blew from the north as they Apparated to a field somewhere on the northern outskirts of Paris. A good few witches and wizards were already standing around the bonfire, the flames being stoked magically. They would start their sacrifices once the sun had full set beyond the horizon.
Emmaline held out her hand to Draco as she led him towards the bonfire. She was excited – the playful gleam in her eye making her look years younger than she appeared. Draco could not help but be affected by her joy. There were no lingering traces of her recent illness, and for that Draco was glad. They were early enough, as the bonfire was only still small. The sacred flames of inspiration, transformation, and healing would soon be ready to accept their sacrifices.
An hour later, the sun had completely set, and a team of witches began the chant, opening up and asking the fire and Brigid to accept their sacrifices. One by one, the leaders began burning their Yule decorations. The holly, mistletoe and parchment decorations fed the flames as they rose high in the sky. Soon everyone was invited to add their sacrifices. Draco stepped up to the edge, holding his parchments tight.
In one swoop, he threw into the fire all his parchments containing the things about his life he wanted to forget, or to expel. The tied bundle of parchment landed atop the blaze, and caught fire quickly. As the smoke and flames took the seemingly innocent pile of parchment, Draco could feel the heaviness lifting from his heart. He let go of all the baggage he carried from a rather forgetful winter, and he realised he had more than his fair share of it. He cast aside all his hindrances as the flames rose higher and higher.
The pile of his hopes and dreams were carefully thrown into the flames, as he asked the goddess for guidance in sowing the seeds of his future. As he watched the parchments curl up and the ash blow away on the breeze, Draco's thoughts returned to his new friend Flash, and he hoped that in the coming months he would get to know this mysterious, yet truly wonderful wizard even better.
As they sat around the dying bonfire, drinking the remains of the hot mocha coffee blend, Draco began to feel the heavy veil lifting from within his heart. Now was the time for the real Draco Malfoy to come forth. He smiled and nodded knowingly at Emmaline. Yes, he thought. These coming months are going to be special. Very special.
Part 5: I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For.
Février 14 2003
Bonjour Flash,
As I write to you here in the early hours of Valentine's day, I can't help but think about you, and your plans for Ollie this day. I'm sure that he'll love your surprise and it will make him rue all that time he spends away from you.
You know, I'm beginning to think I would not take terribly well to having a partner who was away as much as Ollie is. Tonight I was just so excited, that I had to write to you. I saw Jean-Paul tonight – for the first time since we last spoke. I was dreadfully hard... er, it was dreadfully hard not to ravish him there on the spot – even though we've exchanged no promises and I haven't even kissed him yet!
The advice you have given me has finally started to sink in and I have decided to stop hiding myself away. I know that you'll probably say that all work and no play... and you will be right. I decided I would go out to dinner. Not with Jean-Paul – I'm not ready for that step just yet, despite his open ended invitation, but I did take my landlady out for dinner. It isn't something that a person my age would normally do, but she's a bit more special to me than just my landlady. She's been like a mother to me since I've been here, and I was terrified I was going to lose her when she was sick.
After putting on my finest dress robes, we went to a little wizarding restaurant in Montparnasse. Muggles occasionally get in there, but they just think the wizard clientele are just some of the more bohemian folk who live in that part of the city! It was a lovely meal, then we followed it up with one of her favourite pastimes – ballroom dancing. I hate to admit it, but I actually had a wonderful time, even though I stuck to the simple dances (I don't dance well at all) she was very happy. I've started letting my barriers down – slowly, and this was a first step.
Valentine's is for those you love, as you reminded me, and petite mère is my mother, and I love her. I suppose she has adopted me, very much like your friend's family have adopted you. I'm sure you must feel the same way about them as I do about my petite mère.
But getting back to my original story. As I waited to escort her out, Jean-Paul turned up (I did tell you he is her nephew, didn't I?). I think I may have made a grand impression with my dress robes and all the accompanying finery. He asked me out for a drink the other week, and now we will be going the next time he's in Paris. I'm as giddy as a schoolgirl. He has my floo address, so I'll try not to be too obsessive about waiting for the call. No promises, just a drink... and endless possibilities. I find him so fascinating, and I can barely stop thinking about him.
But enough about Jean-Paul and my non-existent-but-slowly-improving love life. I was actually wanting to tell you about Imbolc. Since the bonfire, I've done all my spring cleaning, and I've exorcised the demons in my mind. I've had a while to think over your assignment, and I've come up with my list of happy times. Like I said to you a couple of weeks ago, I've had plenty of times that were happy, but something or someone got in my way. I guess the two happiest memories revolve around my family – my mother, and my father.
Mère and Père were terribly old fashioned purebloods. Everything was about prestige. I'm fairly sure they only married out of duty – you know the sort of pure-blooded nonsense that goes on with some of the older families – trying to keep the family totally pure and untainted. Well, I'm fairly sure that love didn't exist between them. Père was never one to show affection, and I'm pretty sure he never showed Mère more than the business end of his wand. She always seemed so lost and forlorn, only coming alive when he wasn't home.
You'll probably hate me for writing this, but it's the happiest memory I have. It was the day during the war that I found out that my father had been killed. I knew then that Mère might actually get some peace from him and possibly get on with her life. I was so happy for her, and I was looking forward to the end of the war, which wasn't far away at that stage, so that we could try to be a real family. But her peace was short lived – she was murdered by some of Voldemort's associates a few days later. I never got to see her again, and the war ended only a few weeks later. It was a bittersweet memory.
The only other happy memory I truly had, also involved love, but it too was soured by the war. If the war had not happened, I'd probably be married to a woman right now, and fathering a whole tribe of children. Yes, you read me correctly. My first true love was a woman – one of my school friends - Queenie.
Draco sat back as he thought about Daphne Greengrass - Queenie; his pet name for her. He really thought he loved her at the time, and perhaps he did. All he knew at the time was that her death truly affected him. Despite his sexual experimentation with his fellow Quidditch players, which at the time he thought was just harmless fun, he honestly thought that Daphne was the one for him.
Queenie was a truly amazing girl, and I honestly loved her. I know she loved me too, we said it often enough during the last few months of school. Alas, she too was taken away from me in one of the earliest battles of the war, and I guess that spurred me on to being so passionate about what I did during the war. Suffice to say that I took comfort where I could get it after that, and now, well, there isn't a witch on this planet who could ever live up to her image, and I still miss her, but I know I can live without her.
Even my happiness at the end of the war was soured by an injury I took from a misplaced hex during a skirmish – a skirmish that should not have happened. Voldemort had been killed, yet the Death Eaters whom I faced decided to go down in a blaze of glory rather than surrendering. So instead of celebrating like the majority of the Wizarding World, I was stuck in the hospital for quite a while. By the time I got out, the celebrations were long over.
Merlin, I'm such a depressing sod, aren't I? If I hadn't had a few years to get over this, I'd be a blithering mess right about now just thinking about all that.
I realise how shallow some of my other happy memories are when they are measured up against those, but looking back, my supposedly happy memories are just vindictive childish games. Beating a fellow classmate in Quidditch, or having a better broom than everyone else, or being the best dueller in my class. All these things seem so shallow and childish now. I've grown up, and I'm pretty sure that I will find my happiness, but I don't think I can force it on myself, not like when I was a child. Money doesn't buy happiness – I should know – my family's inheritance is causing more trouble than it is worth.
I guess I am a bit of a loner, as you mentioned the other day, but I've always been highly selective of my friends, and I guess I've not met too many that meet my very exacting standard. I've always hidden myself behind a façade – something I learned from my Père (of all people), but now I want to get rid of that, I want to stop trying to over analyse my feelings – as you can see, I've been doing plenty of that since I've had this journal. I know it's terribly Virgo of me, although at other times I can so relate to being a Leo.
But you asked me about the one thing that hasn't happened yet that would make me happy. I know that there is something 'missing' in my life – for want of a better word. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I know that these past few weeks it's slowly starting to hang about my conscience – an impending sense of anticipation describes the feeling quite well. Whatever is going to happen, I'm sure I'll know about it, and I guess then I will be truly happy. The bonfire felt like a bit of a turning point, and I felt really refreshed after that night.
So there you have it Flash, I've spring cleaned my soul since Imbolc, and exorcised a few nasty little mind demons. You mentioned the other day that you've had your share of misery with happiness. I just hope you haven't had them both at the same time like I have. The war really did sour my life, but I'm not the only one. Surely we were all touched by it in some way.
So you have your Ollie now, and I've got the mysterious and totally gorgeous Jean-Paul to make friends with, so we really haven't done too bad, have we? Say, you already know I'm a Leo/Virgo cusp, what star sign are you? Oh Merlin, that sounds like such a come-on line. Now you're a friend, I'm using it on you. Watch out, or I might have to shag you... you never know – if I'm using such corny lines as that!
Oh, and by the way, I know you wanted me to see some of this Muggle television. I tried it once this week – I ventured out into Muggle Paris, and caught some of it in an eklectronics store. Must say it wasn't appealing – all these women standing around like a gathering of pureblood witches, all whingeing and carrying on as if it were the end of the world because someone divorced someone else. Rather sad really.
But I did make a very different discovery. As I sat drinking my coffee (the Muggles don't make it nearly as well as they do here in the Wizard Quarter), I saw a movie place – a cinema I think it's called. They have made a film for the Lord of the Rings. I decided to check them out – it was apparently two movies shown back to back, and they will be releasing a third film later this year for the final part of the book. (I overheard one of the Muggle girls talking).
Well, I see what you meant when you said the filmmakers could make a scene look almost real. I could not believe the thing – I was in there for nearly six hours Flash! My eyes are still smarting from just staring at the screen. They did a brilliant job, although they didn't quite get the story right – I mean we all know the elves didn't go to Helm's Deep. If your television was more like that, then I might just have to get my hands on some eklectricity. Although I'd prefer that guy who played Boromir, he was rather... fetching. I never dreamed in a million years that the Muggles could be so clever. Although, when all the names came up at the end, I'm fairly sure that I recognised a few wizards amongst the credits.
So there you go. Another task undertaken by the new and improved Luc. I've exposed myself to more than just Muggle restaurants, and I didn't come back like a dribbling mute. I might just have to venture out into the Muggle precincts, and beyond the restaurants more often. Although I don't know about these 'Movile fones' Who would I talk to? I don't know anyone who is Muggleborn, so I'm relying on you for my education. I honestly don't know of any Muggleborn students in my course at l'Institut.
Okay, I've drabbled on for long enough. I'm going to bed, and you've got a very big day ahead of you if you're going to be surprising Ollie at work. I hope he likes your surprise, and if you startle him, just remember that the 'Make-up sex' is amazing. I'm just quoting your own words there Flash! Have a great Valentine's day!
Au Revoir,
Luc
TBC
Publish Date: (this chapter) 3-April-2004
Updated: 28-February-2005
Review Thank You Notes for Chapter 5:
Azhure apologies profusely for another War and Peace length epic, but every word just had to be said! We are so inspired by everyone's words - you make the writing process so enjoyable when you all say such wonderful things!
So thanks to:
DarkJade1: Welcome, and glad you are enjoying the fic!
Verisimilitude: Oh, there is a lot going around before these guy's get together, and hmmm... you might be right about that cousin of Draco's... ;)
Nilblaze: We're very glad you found this fic too, and so glad you want to give Ginny a swift kick you-know-where. As for Devon's physical appearance... Hmmmm... perhaps it reminds him of someone he hasn't seen in quite a while, but used to watch often - every day at school in fact... er - I shouldn'ta told ye tha! Although it will be a while before Draco meets that certain person, and the connection will be made... Don't worry, we aren't leaving the story to dust. But real life does get in the way of our writing schedules. I'm currently working on winning the lottery, so I'll be free to write daily!
Jen Red Robe: Ah Jen! Glad you love Draco's method of cleaning. Doesn't work in my house unfortunately. As for Ollie... I'm leaving that one up for Wintermoon... you might be pleasantly surprised in upcoming chapters...
Fayee: See what happens when I spend a weekend at your place, 20,000 word ruddy chapters... I tell you... crazy, I know, but I'm becoming more sesquipedalian every day! (go look that one up!)
Rena: Oh, Draco is being honest with himself now, and I think you might just find that Harry will soon be waking up to reality... sooner than you might think!
Kaaera: Bingo on your guesses about Devon! You were also right about the dreams. What I want to know is when is our muse visiting you, and can you please send her right back home... she does go AWOL at times and we miss her! So honoured that we can inspire you! Wow!
Goddess Moondragon: Thanks for reading - we hope the story remains fairly unique - Wintermoon's original idea was brilliant, naturally... hope this keeps feeding your chapter addiction!
Cheer4life: Thanks! We are glad the story has plot and great writing too - we spend far too much time chatting about the plot on MSN. We could tell you right now what is going to happen in chapter 14, or 24, but we'd have to kill you... As for Draco thinking Devon was familiar, read my reply to nilblaze... ;)
Jiro: Thanks about the writing. I dunno if it's getting progressively better, I do know it is getting progressively LONGER from my part... ;)
Silviasilver: Hope you haven't had to wait too long for these chapters. Thanks! Glad you are checking weekly. But with RL and wintermoon's study schedule, it could be a little longer between updates!
CuriousDreamWeaver: Yeah, the Ginny bit just came to me as I wrote... the muse wouldn't let it die a natural death, so it had to be written... Glad you think the writing is emotive and evocative. We sure try to make it that way!
Queen Antigone: Glad the images of Ginny and the smoking jacket Draco were so vivid. It is interesting to think of Wizards wanting to live like Muggles. Draco now has a little bit more of an interest in a few Muggle things, thanks to Flash, and he might pursue those interests in upcoming chapters! As for Devon, Hmmmm, will he make a comeback at a later stage... I say no, but the muse is nudging me and making other suggestions... Hopefully this chapter wasn't TOO long for you! ;)
Sailor Grape: So glad some people are happy with the long chapters. Draco is so complex and he likes to let everyone know about it. He's promised to shut up a bit now... it will be Flash's turn soon enough. Er. I shouldn'ta told ye tha! Sorry that he won't get to 'meet' Flash for a while, but when he does... well, it's going to be very 'interesting' to say the least!
Ravenfrog: Glad you are enjoying it. Harry does come across sometimes as a bit needy and weak only because he's still not sure what he really wants. Soon enough he's going to figure it out and then... well you'll just have to read on to find out! Watch out for chapter 8, I think you will thoroughly enjoy it!
Trivium: Well hopefully you clicked refresh today and got chapter 7... and that you enjoyed it as much as chapter 5! As for the ending... well according to our plans, we are now about a quarter of the way through the story, so there will be at least another 18-21 chapters in the pipeline. As to when they meet up, well, you'll just have to read on to find out about Flash and Luc's first meeting! As for the American/Canadian thing, I'm so careful of that here in Australia. I fell into the trap a few times, and ended up with some scowling Canadians who were upset I thought they were Americans... I learnt to ask the question "So which part of North America are you from?" That covers all bases, and they aren't insulted! As for the inclusion of random Olivers and Americans, well hopefully this Jean-Paul guy won't muscle too much in on our Draco... but he is a rather pleasant diversion! ;)
Themaraudersdragon: Glad you love the story, yes the angst was for real in that chapter! Hope Draco's treatment of Ginny's pic in the paper satisfied you desire to be nasty to the little witch. As for Remus and Sirius... well, you'll just have to keep reading, won't you? J
CelestialDrgn: Yes, Draco's chateau is in the beautiful countryside of the south of France... it is truly beautiful! Hope you are now well over your cabin fever. Thanks!
Malfoy Snogger: Well, Ginny is now truly long gone, but she was necessary for that part of the story. We haven't discussed yet whether or not she'll make some sort of comeback, and what would happen if Harry ever found out... Hmmm. Will think on that one. Glad you loved Devon - he really was wintermoon's idea, I just provided the scenery all the way... Thanks for your lovely review! ;)
louise4: You are right - Draco wasn't as horrible as he thought by letting Devon go... he just needs to see that for himself. I think Ginny is just a very confident and sensual woman, but with possibly just a teensy bit of emotional scarring. She just likes the conquest, and Draco was a notch on the bedpost she'd been waiting on for a very long time...
menecarkawan: Oh he's learning to be happy with himself, but he needs a little diversion now and then. Hopefully he's learning to make friends now that Flash has shown him how, and that Jean-Paul can take care of his 'other' needs. Glad you are enjoying the story!
Thanks again to everyone. We love feedback (subtle hint!). Thanks for taking the time to read, and we look forward to hearing more from you!
Cheers
Azhure! & Wintermoon!