Per Solum Lacuna: By Words Alone

by wintermoon2

Enchanted diaries bring solace to unlikely lost souls. It's a wizarding twist on the classic tale of penpals. What will happen when these mystery writers finally meet? HD Completed!

9. Friends of Mine

Note: Due to formatting limitations on this site, the following key is needed to read the diary entries.

Bold Flash's Diary Entries & letters to Draco
Italics Luc's Diary Entries & thoughts or emphasis
Underline something 'special' happening in their entries

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Per Solum Lacuna: By Words Alone
Chapter 9: Friends of Mine

Oh no not me I'm not too late,
and I know that I'm not waiting any more.
Friends of Mine, Duran Duran 1981

oo0oo

March 8 - Saturday

Draco always knew that Paris in the spring was indeed a sight to behold. Situated in the heart of the student district, the small, yet quiet café played host to a myriad of customers that Saturday afternoon, including one very thirsty wizard. Sipping a well needed espresso, Draco's musings turned to the wonders of the fabulous city he lived in. The other patrons were oblivious to the beauty surrounding them, their attention seemingly drawn inward on such a sunny and mildly warm March afternoon.

Judging by the number of people out and about – both Muggle and Wizard - it seemed that everyone in the city had come to the conclusion that it was too beautiful a day to be stuck indoors. Even Draco, in his current quest for academic greatness, had succumbed to the sunshine as he moved out of the library at l'institut. With his ability to enjoy a good, long walk hampered by his injured knee, Draco usually chose to Apparate between the halls of learning and the Wizarding Quarter of Paris. He rarely stopped in at this particular café – preferring to get his coffee from Emmaline - but today, he too felt the pull of the spring sunshine. His journey took him away from l'institut, down Boulevard St Michel towards Notre Dame, on his way across the river to the Wizard library deep within the bowels of the Louvre.

Much of Wizarding Paris was very old, dating back to the founding of the city. Wizards dwelled side by side with Muggles, with many of the major Wizarding sites scattered throughout the sprawling city. de l'étudiant en Sorcellerie was based around the bustling student section of Paris, situated in the Fifth Arrondissment. L'institut des Magies was situated within the campus of The Sorbonne, the premier Muggle Parisian University. The actual Wizard shopping district, Le Quart De Sorcier, was situated across the river in the Eighth Arrondissment, between the Champs Elysees and Avenue Montaigne. It was just a little too far away for Draco to walk every day to classes, but he honestly didn't miss living so far from the distractions of the student lifestyle.

The Sunday afternoon crowds had thinned as Draco sat watching the passing parade of Muggles and Wizards from his vantage point near the front window. A sense of normalcy had returned to Draco's life since he stopped concentrating on his love life. He found it easy to once again slip into the habit of people watching.

The blond had found that he no longer had the time to wither away and melodramatically mourn the loss of a partner in his life. With the last semester of his studies well underway, Draco had only another ten weeks until he would be finished with his studies. A year of intense research, or three years of apprenticeship would have to come before he could consider himself a full potions master. The closer he came to the end of his course, the more he knew exactly what field of research he wanted to follow. The research at the library had been to tidy a few loose ends for his thesis, 'Wolfsbane: Benefit or Bane?' With the thesis almost completed, Draco had turned his mind to the focus of his studies beyond university.

Despite most Potions graduates seeking apprenticeships with a master, Draco had always been disinclined to follow that path. He couldn't bear the thought of having to spend another three years working at the behest of another person – he had never seen himself doing that. It was extremely rare that apprentices be allowed to follow their own interests, as the potions masters they served expected constant assistance in other areas of expertise. Malfoys had always been ambitious, and in that respect, Draco was no different to his forebears.

He was going to be his own man; after all, he had worked too hard to disassociate himself from his father not to be. Even his own actions during the war were distasteful to him now. Draco had seen and done things as a spy out of necessity, but never with any enjoyment. He'd been raised to believe that Malfoys didn't do the dirty work, and therefore could never understand why his father had been so eager to follow a megalomaniac like Voldemort. He thought, perhaps, that it was the promise of glory, but Draco had never shared that plan or desire with his father. He didn't want power, or glory, or followers. Draco just wanted to do what he could to redeem the Malfoy name if possible, to be recognised for his own efforts instead of the actions of his father, and to be at peace with himself.

Lucius' ambition had been world domination. Aligning himself with Voldemort had been the easiest path to that perceived power. Draco didn't desire world domination as much as he desired world recognition. The most prestigious path to gaining recognition in the academic world was through research. All the greatest potions masters came from research backgrounds, and he wasn't about to let someone else get all the credit for his own hard work. No, he wasn't going to become an apprentice, not to anyone. With his thesis all but finished, he was already working on a research proposal to obtain an honours grant so that he could study, develop and hopefully patent an improved and more accessible Wolfsbane potion.

Although the war was well and truly over, hundreds of victims still suffered from the effects. Some more silently than others. In the darkest times, Voldemort had let dark creatures run free, and the number of werewolves, vampires and banshees grew rapidly. It was an obvious ploy to increase his own forces. Those victims who survived the war were shunned by most of the world. The number of Werewolves had increased more than any other, yet the European Ministry and British Ministries were desperately trying to sweep the problem under the carpet. Draco knew that an affordable and accessible Wolfsbane potion would help many of the victims to return to a somewhat normal existence. As it were, the potion was currently only available to those who could afford it. It was an inequality that Draco sought to rectify with his own philanthropic sensibilities. He believed that he had found his calling. Indeed, it might even help rectify the sins of his father.

With the Malfoy inheritance coming closer every day, Draco had no need to work, but the thought of research and development was something he could envisage filling those empty hours of his future. He wasn't delusional enough to think that he could develop a potion to cure the curse, but he knew that he could do everything possible to ease the victim's suffering during the transformations. His trip to the library at the Louvre was to scour the archives for historical data relating to werewolves in the ancient texts. He was going to perfect the Wolfsbane potion and the key could very well lie somewhere in the ancient tomes.

With the fine weather, most patrons had preferred the tables outside the now bustling café. With so few diners inside, Draco had the best of both worlds as he had a bird's eye view of everyone passing by whilst maintaining his own privacy. Lost in thoughts of werewolves and potions remedies, Draco was startled when a commotion coming from one of the outside tables interrupted the tranquil afternoon atmosphere.

His attention was drawn from his crusty baguette by the wild screeching of car brakes. Looking up he saw a car pull up suddenly in front of the café. A young Muggle girl strode out glaring and yelling wildly at a young couple sitting at one of the outdoor tables. Draco sensed something was wrong long before the girl stormed up to the man and slapped him hard across the face, all the while yelling obscenities at him, and his female companion.

Most patrons averted their gaze from the warring party, avoiding embarrassment, but Draco watched on in fascination.

"You sleazy good for nothing liar!" the young woman was vehement, her hands gesticulating wildly. "You go around flaunting yourself with this – this floozy!" Draco sensed he would be slapped again before the confrontation was over.

"This isn't what you think..." The young man protested his innocence, but anyone could see that he had been caught red handed. The behaviour and body language of the other girl was not helping his feeble protestations. She cringed and tried to slink away, but to no avail.

"You are my fiancé. I thought that might have meant something to you!" the young woman was on the verge of tears. "Aren't we soul mates? I thought we were. You go and throw it all away, and for what?" She looked the other girl up and down, before dramatically tossing her engagement ring in his face. He stood there dumbfounded, but realising that she was storming off, he made another feeble attempt to follow her, but she had again got back into the car and had screeched off into the traffic, narrowly missing several other cars and pedestrians in the process.

In the dramatic silence that followed, the cheating Muggle turned, looking back towards the café, suddenly realising there was quite an audience to his romantic infidelity. He ran his finger along the inside of his collar before squaring his shoulders and sitting back down. His female companion tried to hide from the prying eyes, but to no avail. It was doubtful, judging from the look on her face, that she had been aware that she was 'the other woman', and she watched her young man warily.

Draco didn't blame her one bit. The man in question was obviously a two timing cad. He deserved the humiliation of a public break-up. His shame at his behaviour was obviously short lived, as he was now attempting to charm his companion, and judging from her shy smile, he was soon back to his winning ways.

What a bloody bastard, Draco thought. He's as bad as that cad, Ollie. As Draco thought on Ollie, he thought back on the torrid time his friend Flash had experienced nearly a month before. Draco had spent a lot of time since Valentine's Day thinking about Flash. The other man's plans for surprising his lover had seemed so romantic, so true. Draco could only begin to wish that he could have someone to do that for in his own life. But after witnessing that scene, and thinking on Flash's thoughts, he was momentarily grateful to be without a lover.

He had given Flash a couple of weeks of privacy after Valentine's Day, and naturally he assumed his friend would be busy with his lover during that time. It had stunned Draco to learn that Flash had caught his lover in the throes of passion with not one, but two other men. Draco shook his head at the image. He had been holding off on writing to his friend, but fate must have intervened when he did choose to write. Flash had indeed been suffering and wallowing, yet he had not opened up to any of his other friends, instead, choosing to spill the horrid news to Draco first. Draco could understand Flash's reluctance to talk – he had been in that position himself.

It had been nearly two weeks since Draco received a quick note from Flash. It appeared that he had taken Draco's advice and gone on a holiday. The brief message explained that he was off work for two full weeks and had just arrived in a quiet little cottage. He was looking forward to the solitude, but assured Luc that he would try to write some more whilst he was there. However, it really was not surprising that there hadn't been any further messages. Draco assumed that, just as he had done, Flash was using the much needed time to find himself. No doubt the time would be needed to heal the wound that Ollie ripped wide open in the other man's heart. The Englishman was probably taking the time to sort himself out – Draco's voice of experience knew exactly what Flash needed. Flash would write when he was ready, so Draco didn't worry about their lack of communication.

Draco shook his head at the thought of his own trip away after Antonio. He wasn't worried for Flash – at least he didn't think that the other man would go off and do something as stupid as he did with Devon. He said he'd already done that with his friend's brother Charlie, but they appeared to have made up and remained friends. The thought of having such a 'friend with benefits' was something that Draco only dreamed of at this point in his life.

The thought of Ollie's behaviour still stunned Draco whenever he thought on it. If he were being totally honest, Flash had suspected for a while that something about his and Ollie's relationship wasn't quite right. The Englishman was right to get out and break ties now, although Draco honestly thought he let Ollie off lightly. Draco would have hexed the bastard's balls off if he had been the one to catch him in the act.

Flash had seemed so bereft in their last conversation. Draco couldn't fathom why he had spent so much time thinking about this other wizard. He shrugged to himself as he realised that he and Flash had some parallels in their lives, and he couldn't bear to see such an intriguing friend end up emotionally devastated.

As he sipped his coffee, he pulled the journal from his satchel. For the past week he had taken to carrying it around with him, in case Flash replied to him. He wasn't desperate to hear from Flash, he was barely able to keep his eyes open when he got back to the studio these days, that he didn't want to lose the opportunity to hear from his friend. Friend? Draco still surprised himself by thinking of the Englishman in such a way. It felt... good. Good to know someone out there actually cared for what he thought. It was... refreshing.

Draco thought more on the notion that he was making friends with a complete stranger, and he hoped that his new friend was also getting on with his life after the horrid discovery of his cheating boyfriend. Looking at the clock on the wall, he realised he should be making his way to the Louvre. He stuffed the journal back into his satchel. Perhaps he would see a new entry from his friend later. He threw a few coins on the counter as he paid the bill. The more he thought about the term friend, the more he was reminded of the task that Flash set him - the task of looking at his own friendships and why he had so few people he could truly call friends.

Draco had a fair idea of why he had so few friends, although he always avoided thinking about that particular event. But why not? You were only children. Was that the reason why you always set the bar so high for friendship? Because the boy-who-ruddy-well-lived turned you down? You really have let that git rule such an important part of your life, haven't you? Or was it father's constant litany of pureblood and power? 'You can tell the measure of a man by those he associates with. By all means Draco, choose your associates, but be very sure about those you choose to call friends.' He could still hear his father's words clear as a bell in his head, despite the decade since he had heard them the last time.

Although he had known no better than to follow that advice when he was younger, he had made the right decision to do so. Just as well he didn't make friends with any of his fellow Slytherins. Most would just as soon turn around and stab you in the back than be a caring friend to you. He ended up killing a good number of his classmates, and had he made one slip as a child, he would not have lived to see the start of the war.

The patterns of his childhood conditioning were something Draco found hard to break – especially after the war. He had been trained to distrust everyone. At first, he had been wary of approaching his classmates at university. Draco was so used to people wanting to associate with the prestige of the Malfoy name, especially when he was in the Death Eater ranks, that he wasn't sure how to approach people normally. When he did manage to get closer to a few of those classmates, his fears were realised as he found that he was, indeed, only doing so to get something from them. Those who approached him first were also drawn by his name, not because he was the son of Lucius Malfoy, or because he was Draco Malfoy, Death Eater. No, these people were approaching him, putting up a pretence of friendship and casual conversation, only to pick his brain for potions information. His reputation as the best potions student at university had quickly spread, and brought him a new level of fame, but nothing in the way of new friendships.

Draco shook his head. No, he had really had very little success with making friends. Until now of course. If he were brutally honest, his only true friend (other than Flash,) was Severus. The horrors they had witnessed and endured together as spies in Voldemort's service was something that banded them together – something nobody else could possibly begin to understand.

Having looked up to the elder man as a mentor for so long before the war, Draco had absolutely no issues with trusting Severus. That and the fact they had saved each other's lives on several occasions helped in that regard. Despite Draco's trust issues, he had somehow allowed a few – supposedly well chosen – people to make their way through to his heart. That was before they stomped all over it and wrecked his life. Draco knew that his friendship barometer was undoubtedly skewed when it came to matters of the heart.

Flash had often talked about soul mates. Was there such a thing? Draco doubted it. As he wandered out of the café to head across to the Louvre via Notre Dame, he glared at the slimy two timing Muggle still sitting in the café with his 'current' girlfriend. Draco's glare was followed up with a firm desire to put some sort of hex on the man, but he wisely chose to keep his wand hidden in the busy Muggle street. Still, all the other patrons had given the man disapproving frowns and glares as they too left the café. Draco was yet to meet anyone who was even remotely close to being a soul mate, and he was beginning to doubt that it would ever happen.

He wasn't cynical enough yet to be lost on the whole idea of love, at least, not any more. His friendship with Flash was helping him to see the world through another person's eyes, and it was refreshing. As he walked along, he wistfully patted at the contents of the pocket in his new leather jacket. Being out and about on such a day in Muggle Paris meant that the robes had to be sacrificed for something a little more modern and less conspicuous. Often many less enlightened Parisian Wizards could be found wandering around the city, oblivious to their seemingly 'odd' clothing. Most Muggles just shrugged them off as just another member of the city's rather eclectic and eccentric population.

Draco had been in an entirely frivolous mood the previous week. Something he had not been in a very long time. He had just received notice from his realtor that the chateau had been rented out again, so he had a pocket full of Galleons. Whoever was staying there must have paid extra for the privilege. Perhaps the rental agency had increased the rent. Either way, Draco didn't complain. The sight of the leather jacket in the window of the fashion house had been too good an opportunity to pass up. So good in fact, he impulsively bought matching jeans and boots. The boots were a little tight, but a good resizing charm had solved that problem. As he handed over his Gringotts credit card (for those wizards who straddled the Wizard and Muggle worlds), he secretly thanked the tenant of his chateau for their patronage.

In the past few weeks, ever since his interest in Muggles had been piqued, Draco had found himself spending more and more time in the Muggle areas of the city – just browsing through the shops and observing the behaviour of the non magical folk. His father would be rolling around in his grave at Draco's fascination, but he was long past caring about what Lucius had liked and disliked. Draco realised that for all their perceived failings, Muggles had managed to get along rather well without magic. Their concept of communication was fascinating, if somewhat primitive, as was their fashion sense.

Not only had the jacket looked fetching, it was the most comfortable jacket he had worn in a very long time. It was so comfortable that he had barely taken it off in the week since he bought it. He had even turned up to class a couple of times wearing it; the strange looks his way were soon outnumbered by the wistful sighs of many witches (and a goodly number of wizards as well).

Besides, those wistful sighs had only fallen on deaf ears. Draco didn't need to read the letter that was safely tucked away in his pocket – he knew the contents off by heart. He felt a little silly, carrying around a simple letter from Jean-Paul, but he couldn't help himself. It was an affirmation that out there, someone wanted him. It was a good feeling, and something that kept Draco from the shallow wallowing that had haunted him in the earlier part of the year.

'Bonjour Draco, I confess to being unable to stop thinking about you...' Jean-Paul's opening words had set the tone of the letter. 'I wish I could floo right now, but the floo system in this area is rather unstable, and it is best to avoid using it during such times, hence the letter. Besides, reliable International Floo powder is hard to come by here. You looked positively ravishing when I saw you with Tante Em on Valentine's. If I didn't know better, I would have sworn you had designs on my aunt! (not the first time she's taken a younger lover, but you didn't need to know that, did you?) I just wanted to write to reassure you that my interest is genuine, and that I couldn't forget you once you were out of my sight. I find myself thinking about you at odd (and sometimes extremely inappropriate) times and places. My invitation to get to know you was not a bunch of empty words. I would love to get to know you better, and I am endeavouring to get myself back to Paris soon. Naturally, the more eager I am to get away from here, the harder it is proving to do so. I thought this note might help tide you over until we meet again, and to let you know that I for one will be looking forward to our next meeting. Bien à vous,
Jean-Paul.'

It had been hard to move the grin from his face every time he thought about that letter, but the stunningly handsome medi-wizard had been right – the letter was helping him greatly, and he was actually looking forward to the time when Jean-Paul could come back to Paris. They had only spoken over coffee the last time he was in town, but Draco knew that he needed and wanted to have this man in his life. Despite all his promises to Flash that he was going to be a perfect gentleman, and not think with his libido; Draco knew that it would be impossible to resist the other man when they met again. But he also knew that he didn't want to stuff it up – not if he had a hope of getting it right this time.

The one thing he did know is that if there was even a whiff of romance in the air, then Draco was going to control himself and not get carried away. He planned on taking one thing at a time. There was no thought of 'long term' or 'happily ever after'. Draco had made that mistake in the past, and it had only led to disaster. Flash had asked if he thought Jean-Paul might be 'the one'. Draco wasn't even considering that at all – he hadn't even kissed the man – hell, he barely knew the man. But a small voice in the back of his mind was often suggesting that if he were, then Draco wouldn't mind one little bit.

oo0oo

March 9 - Sunday

The library was quiet for a Sunday afternoon, but that made it all the more better for Draco. For the second day running, it had not taken him long to quickly become engrossed in his study – the books and parchments were things he had always felt an affinity for. The library had always been a place for Draco to escape to when his father had been on a rampage. Malfoy Manor's library was exceptional in its grandeur. He dearly missed being able to sit in his favourite Chesterfield underneath the window, looking out over the view of Narcissa's immaculate gardens and the Wiltshire plains beyond. It was about the only thing in England he could honestly say that he missed.

Draco sat at one end of the long table in the middle of the library. He doubted the wizened old librarian had seen the sun in the past century, but he was surprised to see another young witch deep within the walls of the library. She had been there the previous afternoon as well, although she didn't look like she wanted to be in the library at all. Draco recognised the worry lines across her face brought on by stress and a distinct lack of sleep. She seemed fretful and distressed for the second day in a row. Draco couldn't quite place where he had seen her before. Glancing at the pile of books beside her, he recognised the spines of a dozen references used by students in their first year at l'institut. He assumed he had seen her around the potions labs at l'institut.

Engrossed in his study as he was (the works of Wildegard the Werewolf Alchemist, and his treatise on 'Herbs And Preparations To Aid In Transformation Recovery' were just as dry and hard to digest as the herbs in question), Draco couldn't help but notice the young witch's audible sigh of frustration. Finally looking up, he noticed she was surrounded by a haphazard pile of crumpled parchments. Another broken quill was thrown hastily onto the floor as she cast a hasty erasing charm on the last piece of parchment.

Running her hands through her hair, she buried her face in her hands – a look Draco had seen on the faces of many students when the pressure was getting too much to bear. He cleared his throat as he made his way over to sit next to her. He couldn't stand to see another student under such pressure. "Excuse me," he interrupted.

"Oh!" she looked up at him startled. "Sorry, did I disturb you? I just... this bloody paper." She threw her hands up in the air in a gesture of frustration.

"I couldn't help but notice, you're studying potions?" he asked helpfully.

She nodded, but as she turned to look at him, she realised who he was. "You're Draco Malfoy, aren't you? Sorry, I just recognised you – I've seen you around campus." Draco nodded. He was well known amongst most students and faculty.

"Urgh! This is no good. I've sat here nearly all weekend. I still can't work this ruddy thing out. I'm going around in circles!"

Draco looked over the parchment and the books spread out before her. "Arithmantic equations if I'm not mistaken?" Draco asked. "Any chance you're in Professor Lefèbvre's class?"

"Yes. How'd you know?" she nodded.

"Well, I've seen you around campus as well. Besides, he's the only one cruel and arrogant enough to use his own unproven theories as set texts. He expects everyone to follow his way of doing things." Draco explained.

"Oh? The whole premise of this assignment just doesn't make sense," she sighed in frustration as she tried to explain the problem.

Draco nodded as she explained. Looking over her shoulder, he saw where she had gone wrong. He attempted to guide her to the correct conclusion, and it must have made sense, for he could see the sudden flash of understanding in her face as he explained the underlying problem.

"So you're saying that I just add 12 to each of these numbers in this pentagram?" she simplified his background.

"Yes," Draco nodded. "Only Lefèbvre would be arrogant enough to use a 600 year old diagram in his book, and not take into consideration the shift of the planets over that time. Add the 12 to account for each half century shift, and then apply that to your combinations of ingredients, and the results should work."

"You make it all sound so easy. I never understood this side of making potions. Give me the ingredients and the amounts, and I'm fine." She sighed. "I'm just a frustrated herbologist at heart." She smiled. He found the genuine smile warming, and he found himself returning it.

"Don't worry. I'm the opposite. Just give me the ingredients already grown and prepared. I'm afraid I don't do herbs the justice they deserve." Draco was feeling decidedly modest. "Degas Lefèbvre is a tosser, and even the rest of the faculty think so. You should be right to finish the assignment now." He added hopefully.

She nodded. "Thanks again. You know, you explained that so well. None of the tutors even thought to suggest that. I was beginning to think I was thicker than I thought I was." She stopped momentarily, making sure her words made sense. She suddenly looked at Draco. "Oh, gosh, I'm dreadfully sorry – all this time and I didn't even bother to introduce myself! I know who you are. I'm Arianna – Arianna le Roux."

"Pleased to meet you Arianna – Arianna Le Roux." He grinned at her gushiness and made her smile. He looked back over at his own research. "I guess I should be getting back to my own dry and dusty tomes." He indicated the other end of the table.

She nodded and let go of his hand. "Sorry I disturbed you, but you've truly been a great help. Thanks again!" He watched in satisfaction as she ploughed into her work in renewed vigour.

"Anytime," he murmured. For once, Draco truly meant it. It felt good to help someone, and not expect anything in return. As he turned back to his books, he saw a faint sparkle of light coming from his bag. The journal!

Sunday,
March 9, 2003 Luc, Wow, I can't tell you how much I needed this vacation. I brought the journal with me, thinking perhaps I would feel like writing, but I was so busy and distracted that I never got the chance. I've only just got home, but I feel like I've finally sorted out enough things in my head that the time felt right to now share them with you. For starters, I just want to say up front that I'm an idiot. I think I have a few things I need to express and explain to a few different people; making amends for my actions, I guess. But I want to talk to you about it first because you're the safest person I can think of for this discussion. I don't know that I handled my break-up with Ollie very well. I mean, he was a total bastard, and I know that ending it then and there was the best thing for me, but my reactions after he left were awful. You were right, of course. I was wallowing in self pity for a while, and then there was the night with Charlie. That shouldn't have happened. I say this in retrospect, thinking of how emotional I was at the time, and how much Ollie really did mean to me. What does that say about me? I'll tell you what I think it says… I think it says that I have some serious growing up to do. I think that's why this trip and the solitude out here has been so helpful to me. I think I've begun to see what I really need. Ironically, as I read through my previous entries, I've apparently been talking about what I need for some time; determining to live my own life, find out who I am, and gain the independence that I've never truly had. This time of reflection and heavy emotion has simply given me the impetus I needed to actually put those thoughts into action. I said that I don't want to rely on having a lover to make me happy and that I know I need to be happy on my own before I can truly be happy with anyone else. It's high time I find out how to be happy on my own. I've discovered a few things as I looked through here and thought about my life. One of these things is that I do love Ollie. I don't think that the feeling is as strong as I originally believed, but it's there. I don't even think I can truly say I was 'in love' with him – I can't be sure. I guess I'll always hold a small place in my heart for him, just as I'll view trust differently because of him. I used to believe in a magical love, something that would just sweep through me and leave me with an undoubtable feeling that it's absolutely right and pure and good. I gave up on that idea when I started dating Ollie, thinking I was holding out for something that would never come. Over the past two weeks, as I've looked back on everything that's happened, I've decided that it won't come if I don't believe in it. I want it to come, I want to believe that I can have that kind of relationship someday: one that will just fit, no doubts, no questions, no anxiety. I need that certainty, that unwavering connection that leaves no room for question. So, whenever I find myself facing a new relationship, I'm determined to approach it with caution until I have reason to believe that it'll be safe, and will possibly develop that kind of love. The thing worrying me is that I have this little voice in the back of my head that says it's not possible to approach that kind of love with caution – you just have to grab on to it when it hits you. In the meantime, I fully intend to follow that advice of yours, and hell, of mine! I want to find my new hobbies and develop them. In fact, I have realised in recent months that I have a rather large photo collect (much of it inherited) and I want to sort them into scrapbooks. I went into the nearest town and bought myself a camera last week. I took some pictures during the last bit of my vacation, wanting to preserve the beauty of that place. I plan to start taking some other new pictures as well, new photos of myself and the few friends I still have, photos of this time in my life, learning about myself, finding and creating new interests that can develop into new and happier memories. The first photo I took was of this journal. I know that may be a little cheesy, but there are very few people that are close enough to me for me to consider them true friends. I want photos of my friends, and as the journal is the closest I can get to a photo of you, there you have it! I'll say now that the agency you sent me to is fantastic! I've really enjoyed being away from everything. That cottage is truly – breathtaking. I found a wonderful little café and ended up eating lunch there nearly every day. The lady who runs it even packed up a lunch for me one day because I was going out on my broom. That was exhilarating! The air was just cold enough to make me feel slightly numb, especially if I got too high, but it only served to remind me how alive I am! Touring the wineries in the area and attending a couple of tastings were some of the high points for me. I suppose I fancy myself a bit of a connoisseur and I'm always thrilled to try new labels. The one downfall about that area is that it's next to impossible to find a decent cup of tea! The coffee wasn't bad, but next time I visit that area, I'll have to make sure to take some tea with me. I suppose that's enough rambling for now. I'll be heading back to work tomorrow, and I'm making plans to discuss a change in position with my supervisor. You see, that's another thing I've decided on – my job needs to change. Ollie was right about something – I am in a dead end job. There are a couple of aspects I really like about it, namely the teaching side of it. I'm hoping to make that aspect a full time job rather than just a small part of my overall role. Knowing that's where my interests and strengths lie, it's where I'll be happiest. I do hope you've been doing well. Hope to catch up with you soon! Your friend,
Flash

Draco smiled at the sense of relief that flooded through him. His friend was going to be okay. Life was going to be okay. They were both learning to move on, and that thought brought a smile to his face as he returned to his studies.

oo0oo

March 11 - Tuesday

The potions labs at l'institut des Magies were located deep within the halls of the wizarding institution. Some of the older labs were situated even deeper down, well below the depth of the river. With the entire institute hidden from the Muggle world, most students preferred to Apparate to and from classes. The occasional Muggleborn student would sometimes mingle with the general student body of The Sorbonne, the Muggle university within the same grounds as l'institut.

As the lecture finished, the handful of final year students fell out the door of the dank and cloistered lab. Draco was heading directly for the library. He was very close to finishing his research proposal, and he was excited at the prospect of delivering it to the head of the Potions faculty by the end of the week. Unfortunately, he didn't make his getaway quickly enough.

"Hey, Draco?" one of his classmates called out. "Care to join us for coffee?"

Draco turned around. He didn't fancy sharing coffee. Not with these people anyway. He sighed inwardly as he turned. They looked at him expectantly. He knew exactly why there were asking him for coffee. They had just received a new assignment, and, as usual, they all wanted to ask Draco for his ideas. Draco recognised their gesture for what it was. They were only after him for his input, in the vain hope he could help them do their assignments, without the need to begin research for themselves.

Their attempts at friendship were obvious and transparent, and Draco realised why he barely made the acquaintance of most of his classmates. They weren't interested in true friendship. They sought his knowledge and the power it brought, just as others had since his childhood. Those who sought power, prestige or money from associating with the Malfoy name, or the Malfoy money. Here at l'institut, it was the Malfoy knowledge they were after.

"Sorry guys. I've got to help out in the store," he felt guilty about the lie, but he wanted to go back to the store and help Emmaline. He enjoyed the work he did at the store. It felt good to know he was helping her out. Oblivious to the polite brush-off, one of the group persisted in following Draco as he made his way to the apparition point. He couldn't very well go to the library now that he had told them he was going back to the store.

Francois was a harmless guy, clever in his own way – a brilliant mind – but no clue when it came to social niceties. He was going to make a perfect alchemist at his uncle's apothecary upon graduation. It was just unfortunate that he had no idea of when people weren't interested. Draco suspected he wasn't as clueless as he appeared to be. Most people would agree to buy whatever he was selling, just to get him to shut up. Draco saw the shrewd salesman behind the seemingly innocent and annoying façade. He would have made a good Slytherin, he thought.

Francois had been persistent in class, extolling the virtues of mermaid scales. Apparently they had a myriad of applications, particularly in the making of topical balms to help prevent sunburn. Draco now knew more about mermaid scales than he ever wanted to know, but Francois seemed like an overeager Hufflepuff when he got to talking about something he felt passionate about.

Draco knew it wasn't a genuine passion, merely the fact that his uncle no doubt had an over abundance of mermaid scales that he needed to sell before they expired. No, Francois was not stupid at all. Neither was Draco.

"Look Francois," Draco huffed as he stopped walking, "as much as this is so fascinating, I have no need for any mermaid scales. I'm just not interested."

Francois blinked owlishly. "Not interested?" He sounded bitterly disappointed.

Draco didn't want to continue the awkward conversation. "Sorry, no. Besides, I have to go. Bye." He turned quickly, hoping to avoid a ten minute discussion on why he wasn't interested. In his rush he turned a tad too quickly, and twisted his knee as he awkwardly stepped to narrowly avoid the students coming around the corner. In the process he lost his balance, stumbling forward and landing awkwardly. The twist and sudden movement sent a new series of shooting pains from his knee, all the way up his leg.

"Draco?" He looked up into the familiar face as a friendly hand was offered to help him up. He winced at the sudden pain. He knew the new pain was not good.

"Arianna. Thanks." Draco started to dust off his robes. He leaned against the wall for support, and to hide the extent of his pain.

"Here, allow me," Arianna waved her wand, and Draco's robes were once more resplendent. "It's the least I can do."

Draco suddenly noticed the other witches with Arianna. "Thanks. I'm sorry about that. I guess I was just in a hurry to get away," he winced again as he tried to put some weight on his knee. It wasn't pleasant. He knew he'd have to brew some painkilling potion as soon as he got home. "I... er... wasn't looking where I was going," Draco suddenly rambled, stating the obvious. He smiled at the other witches. "Hello, I'm Draco Malfoy."

"Gah, I'm a complete moron. How rude of me!" Arianna slapped her forehead. "These are my friends, Adèle and Véronique. Draco's the one who helped me through the assignment for Lefèbvre." Their eyes shot up with interest at that. "I don't think I could ever thank you enough for that, Draco! Because of you, I might actually pass that class after all!"

Draco was surprised at the genuine sentiment. He had thought nothing of helping her, but she seemed to think it was a big deal.

"Oh, it was nothing. Really," Draco seemed suddenly reticent. He'd only pointed the girl to the right direction. It wasn't as if he had saved her life.

"No, it's not nothing! I managed to account for myself this last lecture, and not look foolish. Thanks to you, I won't fail Arithmantic Potions!" she wasn't going to let him dismiss it as nothing. Draco just stood there. He'd never really been thanked for something, not without someone wanting something in return. "Listen, we've finished for today. You got any more lectures?"

Draco shook his head. "No, but I was..."

"Good, you're coming with us for coffee. No questions asked." It was refreshing to think that someone just wanted to say thank you, and invite him out for coffee, just for his company. Perhaps he should go with them. He could cast a simple pain relieving charm to get through the afternoon if he agreed. Arianna grabbed his hand, ready to pull him along, but as he began to move slowly, she realised he was still hurt. "Oh, did you hurt your knee more than you let on?"

"No, it's just an old war injury. I think it will be fine. I've just twisted it a little that's all. It will be right again in a couple of days." He often cursed the fact it had never properly healed, and now it would ache even more. He sensed their pity, but waved it off. He didn't need anyone feeling sorry for him. He silently cast the pain relief charm, glad for his intense medi-field training to cast the heaviest pain relief available. It wasn't something he did often – the side effects were severe, but it would do its intended job in the short term.

They had lingered in the hallway a few moments longer. Draco was planning how to Apparate to the coffee shop when a small stool pigeon swooped down, dropping a parchment in Draco's hands. L'institut used pigeons around the campus to send memos – much more obscure than owls in an area populated with so many Muggles.

The memo was addressed to Draco from l'institut's Registrar of Admissions. "Oh, I can't come to coffee now ladies," he waved the official parchment at them. He was genuinely disappointed, as were they. "The Registrar wants to see me." Draco had no idea what it was all about.

They promised to take him to coffee another time, and he gratefully accepted.

Ten minutes later, he still had no idea why the Registrar wanted to see him.

"Mr Malfoy," Henri Pascal, Registrar of L'institut des Magies, was pacing behind his desk as a half dozen quills busied themselves writing copious amounts of correspondence. Letters magically folded themselves, the envelopes sealing themselves before efficiently stacking neatly in his out tray. "I was very worried when I received a letter this morning from Gringotts." The parchment in his hand did indeed have the official seal of the bank.

"How can I assist with this Monsieur Pascal?" Draco had a sudden thought that perhaps the university was going to ask him for money. His father had warned him about those that might solicit him for patronage. Despite his aching knee, Draco wasn't going to let the registrar make it an easy task.

"Well it came as quite a surprise to discover that you tuition for this semester has not been paid."

"What?" Draco was stunned. "That can't be right. The trustees of father's estate have always paid all the necessary bills!" he snatched the proffered parchment, reading for himself the fact that the funds had not been received. "I... I don't understand..." Draco looked away in confusion.

"I'm sure it's just an oversight, Mr Malfoy." The registrar seemed unconcerned.

"I'll make the necessary enquires then, shall I?" Draco asked. Why would they forget to pay my tuition? It's only one more semester! When I get my research grant, they won't need to pay a single cent for my research.

"Yes please. I'm not concerned, Mr Malfoy. I do know you are more than able to pay the funds. I would just hate for your enrolment to be cancelled because your fees are unpaid. Although I suggest haste. I can only let this go unpaid for another week before I must notify the Dean of Students, and the whole matter gets messy. Wouldn't want your grades for this semester to be discounted now, would we?"

"I'll get onto it right away, Monsieur Pascal."

The registrar clapped. "Splendid!"

oo0oo

The letter to the trustees was quickly composed upon his arrival at home, and was immediately sent off with Melchett. What an odd sort of day, he thought as he quickly prepared a painkilling potion for his knee. He didn't want Emmaline to worry about him whilst he helped out in the store. He couldn't let her work all alone, refusing when she tried to pay him for his work around the store. He knew that she wasn't wealthy – the store barely making enough to cover her expenses. Despite this, she refused to accept his rent money. When he wasn't looking, she would turn around and put it back in his money pouch. Draco knew she did this, but it was no use arguing with her. She was more stubborn than he was at times. It was a strange arrangement between the pair, and it was never mentioned.

Tuesdays were normally quite slow in the store, so Draco was working alone. He thought about closing early, when he heard the bell on the door jingling as a new customer entered. He was out the back, unpacking a new shipment of books Emmaline had received from an estate somewhere in the north. Draco carried the box with ease, all signs of aches and pains in his twisted knee completely gone. He knew it was the potion he'd brewed earlier that afternoon, but was under no illusion that the feeling would last. It was a powerful painkiller, but not one he could take continuously without more serious side effects. It seemed that all good painkillers had some sort of side effect, but Draco was no stranger to strong pain. Still, it isn't as bad as Cruciatus. Close, but not quite as bad. He would be paying the price in the morning.

"Draco!" The voice was familiar, and he turned to look at the new customer.

"Arianna, what brings you here?" Draco was surprised to see the witch so soon. Pleasantly surprised.

"I was just looking for that book you were telling me about – the one that had the corrected pentagram. I searched high and low, but can't seem to find it anywhere. Er... I can't even remember the name of the book now..." she began rummaging around in her bag for the slip of parchment where she wrote the name. "I seem to have it somewhere here..." she put her bag down on the counter, and popped her head right in the bag as she searched for the parchment. It was one of those bags that had been magically resized to carry everything. Draco was a little worried she was going to fall right in, when she came out clutching a piece of parchment. "Got it!"

Draco looked over her shoulder. "Arithmantic Alchemy," he read. "That's the one." He pointed to the shelves where a copy was most likely to be. "I don't think we have any new copies..." he drifted off as he knelt down to pull the copies from the shelves.

"I didn't know you worked here, Draco. No wonder you know so much about books." Arianna looked surprised.

"Yeah, well someone has to make sure that Emmaline is looking after herself. Besides, I live above the store, and you won't find a better cup of coffee in Paris," he grinned. "So, do you have time for that coffee now?"

"Guess I do. I've found the book I'm looking for. Thanks again. Seems I'm thanking you quite a bit," she smiled.

"Wait until you've had the coffee! You'll be doing it again."

As they sat sipping their coffees, the conversation turned to people they knew and the lecturers at university. "I never thought you'd ever want to live somewhere like this! It's so... so... well, what would your family think? It's not terribly pureblooded of you, is it?"

Draco looked at her carefully. "What do you mean by that?" he was suddenly on the defensive. It had been a while since he'd come across the sort of pureblooded bigotry that his family once espoused.

"Oh, I just mean that my parents would have apoplexy if I ever dared leave home before I'm safely married. I'd love to leave home. This place seems... divine!" she sighed. "I wish I had the guts to just leave. I guess I just assumed as a Malfoy, you'd be living it up in the fashionable quarter. As it is, Daddy will want me to probably still live at home, even after I'm married," she seemed resigned to her fate.

Draco's mind was put at ease at her comments. She wasn't being elitist, just a little wistful that her own pureblooded upbringing was so strict. Draco couldn't work out why her name sounded so familiar. Her eyes suddenly widened, and she looked at her watch in horror. "Oh sweet Merlin, he'll have a fit knowing I'm out so late!" Downing the last mouthful of coffee, she grabbed her bag, and the newly purchased book. "Wouldn't do for the Minister's daughter to be caught late in this part of town, would it?" she moaned sarcastically.

"Merlin! I knew it!" Draco smacked himself on the head. "Your father's the Minister of Magic?" he realised as soon as she had spoken. The Le Roux's were a very old pureblood family; one that went back as far as the Malfoy's, if not further.

Arianna looked at him in surprise. "You didn't know? I thought once everyone knew me, they would realise it. Should have known when you didn't comment on it the other day."

"I guess I should be paying more attention." Draco smiled. "You'd better go."

"Yeah, wouldn't want father to pick you up for carousing with his daughter. He might try to marry us off." she joked light-heartedly.

"Oh dear." Draco sounded serious. "Pity you're not my type then, isn't it?" She looked at him in a puzzled way. "I'm gay. So you're definitely not my type."

She just stood there. "Well that explains everything!"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" he stood there and smirked. He wondered just what could have possibly given him away as being gay.

"Well, you're the first guy since I've been fourteen that has managed to keep a conversation with me – without ogling my breasts." She laughed, and Draco laughed with her. He hadn't laughed that hard in a long time. It was just as well he hadn't taken a sip of coffee, or it could have ended up a nasty mess all over the place.

"If it makes you more comfortable, I can ogle." The renewed laughter brought Emmaline downstairs.

"Now I really do have to go! This has been so much fun! See you around!" She waved and said her goodbyes as Emmaline locked up the store behind her. Draco watched as she moved just beyond the store's anti-apparition barrier, and vanished.

"Well Draco." Emmaline commented. "I came down when I heard that sound. I wondered what it was. You were laughing! Quelle surprise!" she paused as Draco cleaned up the last of the cups with the enchanted cleaning cloth. "Is there anything you want to tell me? Hmmm?" her playful tone and raised eyebrow made Draco blush.

"What? No... it's not... Emmaline," He realised from her grin that she was only teasing him. He slapped her with the cleaning cloth. "You are wicked. It's nothing. Besides, she's just a... friend," He realised the word as soon as he said it. Friend. He had made a friend.

"Friend, môn chéri?" Are you sure?"

Draco paused thoughtfully for a moment. "Yes. Yes, I'm sure. She's a... friend," Emmaline clasped eyes on him as the realisation dawned on him.

"C'est magnifique!" Emmaline grinned at the young man before her.

oo0oo

March 12 - Wednesday

Draco had ended up falling asleep not long after making his way upstairs. Just one of the side effects of too much painkilling potion, but at least he felt rested when he awoke the following morning. It was still too early for him to consider getting up, so he turned over, only to find Petite Amie curled up on the other pillow. At least someone is getting use out of it, he thought. He suddenly realised what had woken him at such an ungraceful hour. The errant tapping at the window continued, and the realisation it was an owl finally made its way through his foggy brain. It took a few moments of squinting through sleepy eyes before the clock finally came into focus; it was four in the morning.

He thought about getting up to let the errant owl through, but it only took one time bending his knee to tell him that his painkiller potion had definitely worn off. Scrabbling around for his wand, he eventually managed to get the window open, and in flew Melchett. Draco could see the bird was very tired. Looking closely, he saw the parchment in his talons was the same letter he sent earlier that afternoon. He frowned. Did Melchett get lost? Or didn't the trustees reply? Perhaps they weren't there? Melchett hooted his displeasure at not immediately being fed. Another flick of his wand opened a cupboard and a dead mouse was levitated onto the floor. Petite Amie s nose twitched at the sudden treat, but Melchett hooted and swooped down. He wasn't too tired to take his prize into the rafters. He blinked at the cat in victory. Always one for the last word, the cat blinked back in indifference, and was once again asleep on Draco's other pillow.

Barely aware of the early morning competition, Draco was puzzled about why the trustees hadn't answered his owl. As he drowsed sleepily, he could only conclude that Melchett had arrived after the office had closed, and Draco had been very specific in his instruction to deliver it to the actual trustees. I'll try to floo them later, he thought as he went back to sleep.

oo0oo

The following day did little to solve the puzzle confronting Draco. He borrowed some International Floo powder to call the offices of Mulciber, MacTavish and Montgomery - the trustees of his father's estate. There was no answer, not even an engaged floo signal. He tried several times during the day, but to no avail. He attempted to send a strongly worded letter to the trustees, this time entrusting it to a public postal owl.

Thursday dawned with a returned letter, and still no access to the trustees' offices via the floo. Draco was beginning to worry. Actually, it was a feeling closer to panic, but he didn't want to be overly dramatic about it. He couldn't imagine anything happening to all three trustees of his inheritance. Where the bloody hell could they be? Surely they wouldn't move offices? There has to be a perfectly logical explanation for all of this! He thought, more than once, that perhaps his owl, Melchett had been at fault, until the letter sent with the public owl was returned. A slight sense of desperation invaded his slow and sure steps that Thursday. With his knee not improving, he took some more potion, but he Apparated as much as possible between destinations. The registrar had given him until the following Monday to ensure his tuition funds were paid. The desperation level was creeping higher the longer the week drew on. He knew that he needed to speak to the trustees before the weekend.

This mystery invaded Draco's thoughts as he drifted from class to class on Thursday. Even Arianna commented on his preoccupation as they ate lunch at a nearby café after morning classes. Adèle and Véronique, Arianna's two classmates, quickly accepted Draco in their social circle without any qualms, or usual feminine fawning. It didn't take Draco long to realise that Arianna's two friends were a couple. He had not associated with too many lesbians, but their company was surprisingly refreshing, no matter their sexual orientation. For some reason, Arianna felt safe around Draco, and not because he was unlikely to ogle her breasts.

oo0oo

During a quick break between lectures on Friday morning, Draco found himself face to face with the registrar as he made his way across la cour, on his way to the next building.

"Ah, Mr Malfoy, I was wondering if I might have a word," he asked. It was not an optional request. Five minutes later, they were in the registrar's office. "Now, about our little discussion the other day..."

Draco held his hand out to stop the registrar. "Please, I know what you are thinking."

"I notice that your outstanding fees remain unpaid. Are you sure there isn't any problem, Mr Malfoy?" Draco didn't like the registrar's tone of voice. He never liked the man – he was a simpering fool. He had always fawned over Draco in the past – hoping against hope that Draco was the sort to throw his money around. If only! Draco knew that the man's family had been killed during the war – during a Death Eater raid, but so far he had avoided any unnecessary dealings with the man.

"I'm working on it, sir. I just need a little more time," he didn't want to admit it, but he could see no other way around it. He could almost see the gleeful sneer on the registrar's face. He didn't consider it a good omen of what was to come.

"You do realise, Mr Malfoy, that your overdue payment is now becoming rather critical. I mean, we are not in the business of letting people be educated without the proper payment in place first. We're an institution of learning, not a charity."

"I understand that, sir, but you have to give me some more time. The owls between here and London seem to be terribly slow..."

"I'm not interested in your excuses, Mr Malfoy."

"It's not an excuse. If I could put my hands on my money easily, I would have made this payment already. As you know, it's a little bit more difficult for me to do so. You will get your money, sir," Draco didn't like being intimidated, not by little upstarts like Pascal.

"Well then you won't mind the Tuesday deadline? If the funds are not real and presented – no promissory notes, mind you – by Tuesday morning, you can consider your enrolment at l'institut des Magies suspended."

Draco left the meeting in a foul mood. Nobody tried to intimidate him like that. The little upstart probably felt good to think he could have one over the likes of a Malfoy. The only trouble was that the idiot actually had the ability to suspend his enrolment, and that was not what Draco needed right now. Where are the Trustees? Why don't they respond?

oo0oo

By the time he arrived in the library that afternoon to work on his assignments, his anger was seething, but his worry for the trustees was at the fore. He couldn't fathom how they could forget to pay his tuition. Arianna and the girls caught up with him in the library, but he barely noticed their presence, being so caught up in his web of thoughts and concerns.

The girls had sensed his distraction as they spent the most part of the afternoon in the library. He barely remembered being there, but they commented on the fruitlessness of trying to study so late at night, after they realised Draco was still studying the same page after an hour. His mind was coming up with some ludicrous scenarios about the whereabouts of the trustees, each one more ridiculous than the last.

Friday dawned with still no word from the trustees. Draco had become desperate, and sent a letter directly to Gringotts in London, in the hope that they were aware of the missed payment. Arriving back at the store quite late, after another long day of lessons, he found a very whimsical looking Emmaline polishing coffee cups behind the counter. He knew that look – it was one she wore when she was pleased that something was going right for once.

Familiar with her quirks, he decided he wouldn't even begin to wonder what had her in such a happy mood, but her eyes directed him to the letter propped up against the coffee machine. He immediately recognised the handwriting - Jean-Paul's. Seeing his name on the envelope made him smile. Emmaline motioned for him to go and sit down, and she didn't need to be asked to make him a cup of coffee.

It took a while for him to hobble up to his table. His twisted knee was slowly recovering from the silly little accident earlier in the week, but he had reluctantly pulled his father's cane from the very back of the armoire a couple of days earlier. Lucius had used the cane as an affectation (as well as a place to store his spare wand), but Draco actually needed the support as he walked. He couldn't take any more painkiller potion, not for another week at least.

He couldn't see the point in visiting a medi-wizard with it – they had all but told him the injury was permanent when it had happened. A jarring twist, such as his collision with Ari, certainly wouldn't make it any better. The skirmish that resulted in the injured knee had not been pretty. At least he got a very small satisfaction out of the fact he had managed to AK the Death Eater bastard who actually threw the hex.

The hex that the Death Eater flung in his direction had hit the bone the very moment Draco had raised his protection shield charm. Somehow, the miscast dark magic had remained in the bone and muscle, slowly eating away at the tissue. The hex worked quickly, and had been rather degenerative. The medi-wizards spent weeks trying to remove the magic from the bone and surrounding tissue, but they eventually gave up. The one thing they did know was that the degeneration of the tissue in his knee would continue, eventually getting worse. The nature of the dark magic used in the hex meant that they could not use magic to make the tissue regrow. Draco spent a fair amount of time scouring his father's library for any dark curses and counter curses, but to no avail. He had to learn to accept the injury for what it was.

He had learned to live with it – to a certain degree – at least; he was adjusting to living with the pain, and the lack of mobility. Blaming Potter for the injury was one way of coping with it – at least he had someone still alive he could curse for it. Up until his recent accident, he had conveniently forgotten the diagnosis of further degeneration. Subconsciously, he knew he would eventually need a cane to help walk – possibly more, but he had refused to think about it. Pulling the cane out from the armoire had depressed him that first morning. He hated showing signs of weakness, but he knew that if anyone could 'carry off' using a cane, then he could.

Eventually, he made it up the stairs and sat in his favourite chair. He silently cursed the store's anti Apparition wards, but knew that they were a standard part of any store. Wouldn't want the customers to abscond with the stock before paying, would you? He thought wryly. His mood changed suddenly as he contemplated the letter from Jean-Paul. Merlin! I feel as silly as a schoolgirl! Start acting like a man and just read the damn letter!

'Bonjour Draco, I have wonderful news! I have been asked to deal with some colleagues in Paris next weekend, but I arrive in town on Thursday! I don't know if you think that is too soon, but you did promise that you would have dinner with me the next time I was in your beautiful city. 8pm, at your place. I'll see you then. If you've changed your mind, then, well, please let me know before then, so that neither of us embarrasses ourselves. I don't think you could begin to imagine how disappointed I would be if you didn't, at least, have dinner with me. After dinner? Well, I'll let you decide what might come next. Bien à vous,
Jean-Paul.'

Draco couldn't hold back the smile. Of course he was going to go out to dinner with Jean-Paul. It would take a near catastrophe to stop him from taking up that opportunity. He had spent weeks learning from the mistakes of his past. Is this really what I want? Of course it is. Besides, he's the one who seems to be pursuing me! I'd be a fool to just let him slip away without trying to get to know him. That's the key, isn't it? Getting to know him better? Listening to Flash had helped Draco think carefully about how he should approach this opportunity. Even though he knew that diving into the deep end with Jean-Paul would be totally foolish, he didn't expect the man to wait forever. Am I ready to do this? I think so! Now all he had to worry about was what he would wear!

He was still musing a few hours later, back in his studio. The good mood was interrupted by an owl that intruded on his late night ruminations. The tawny owl bore an official yellowing envelope. As it was dropped into his hands, the owl quickly turned back, without waiting for a reply or a treat. Definitely a business owl. He turned it over, expecting to see the return name of Mulciber, MacTavish and Montgomery, but was surprised to see the Gringotts official logo. It's a bit late on a Friday night for the bank to be sending letters, isn't it? he thought.

March 14, 2003 Gringotts Wizarding Bank
Diagon Alley
London Attention: Draco Lucien Darien Malfoy RE: Your Enquiry - Estate of Lucius Damon Malfoy Recent activities pertaining to the estate of Lucius Damon Malfoy have come to the attention of the Special Investigations Branch of Gringotts Wizarding Bank. The bank is seeking an audience with all interested third parties of this estate, to discuss the reparations related to said activities. In accordance with Wizengamot ruling #2345 – 'Dissemination of Death Eater Estates'; the trustees - Mulciber, MacTavish and Montgomery, along with the sole beneficiary, Draco Darien Malfoy, are required to attend a meeting with a member of the Bank's Special Investigations Unit. This meeting is set for our London office at 9am, Monday March 17, 2003. Failure on your part to attend this meeting will represent a breach of the abovementioned ruling, and the estate will come under the jurisdiction of the Wizengamot; to disseminate at their discretion. We look forward to seeing you at the meeting. Regards,
Georgina Spotswood
Special Investigations Officer

Draco read, and then reread the letter. What activities of the estate? What the bloody hell has been going on? Surely they don't mean the payment of my tuition? The questions were rising thick and fast in Draco's head. He scratched it again as he reread the letter a third time. As he read the paragraph about the Wizengamot ruling, he suddenly realised what the meeting must be about. They've finished auditing the estate, and they want to tell me how much of the estate they are going to tax! Draco frowned. He was expecting this to happen someday – he just never thought he'd have to be involved. Can't they just send me a letter? Tell me the total amount? No wonder the trustees haven't been around – they're busy finalising things with the bank.

He felt a little relieved to think that they were perhaps too busy. That also explained the oversight in paying his tuition. He relaxed a little, but then the realisation struck – he had to go to London – on Monday morning!

All the repressed feelings and emotions about heading back to London suddenly came to the fore. A sense of irritation was the first feeling he could put his finger on, and it came as no great surprise. Not only was he expected to go to London, but he was going to have to cancel a meeting with his lecturers to put forward his research proposal. Damn! Now I'll have to reschedule. Draco knew that it wasn't going to be easy – rescheduling his meeting, that was.

It was only as he started pacing (well, hobbling, actually) that the full thought of having to go back to London sank in. "Ah Bollocks!" he exclaimed loudly as he crumpled the letter in his hand. All thoughts of his date with Jean-Paul were forgotten as a flood of bad memories came rushing back.

It was a night of fitful dreams that dogged his sleep, leaving him wide awake and staring at the canopy of his bed for most of the night. By the time sleep eventually came, Draco had resigned himself to the thought of having to face demons from his past.

oo0oo

"Merde!" Draco exclaimed loudly as he dropped the large pile of books he was carrying from the back of the store.

Emmaline looked over at him, concern written all over her face. The bags under his eyes showed his obvious lack of sleep. He came down to work with an intensely haunted look of worry on his face. He had been in a daze for most of the morning. Surely she couldn't have misread the signs? Her nephew had been pursuing interest in Draco, surely he wouldn't have sent the boy a nasty letter? It was the only logical explanation she could find for his sullen mood that morning.

Suddenly furious at her own nephew, she managed to pull the overtired and stressed boy to the side and made him sit. He barely noticed the frothy latte she placed in front of him as he started sipping. Normally he would have a scathing comment about the sheer audacity of putting milk in coffee, but he didn't even blink.

"What did that good for nothing neveu of mine say in his letter? I'll hex his backside from here to Marrakesh and back again if he's upset you!" Draco had no doubt that she would do such a thing.

"I'll curse his mother's grave, and ..." she continued her rant, but Draco suddenly came to his senses.

"No Em, it's not that at all!" It took her a few moments to realise what he was saying. "It's nothing to do with Jean-Paul – he's asked me out when he's in town Thursday."

She raised her eyebrow in confusion. Why could he seem so sullen about that?

"Look, sorry, I just... It's just that... well, I got another letter late last night. I have a meeting at the bank about my inheritance. On Monday morning. In London," he barely spat the last word out in antipathy.

"Oh?" she queried Draco's last statement, seemingly unsure of his implication.

Draco stood up. "But Emmaline! It's London!" as if that was enough of an explanation.

"So, what is the problem - Hmm? If you haven't got enough International Floo powder, I have plenty, môn chéri," she replied calmly, just glad that Jean-Paul had not been the cause of his woe.

Draco just looked at her in stunned silence.

"What? Is there some sort of problem with going to London? Apart from the fact that it's full of Englishmen - Hmm?" she mocked.

Draco stared off out the window. Was he truly ready to go back to London? He always knew he would have to go back someday, but he hadn't expected it to be so soon. Emmaline came up behind him and put her hand on his shoulder.

"You have to go back sometime môn chéri."

Draco nodded. "I know. But I just never planned on going back so soon. I... just..." Draco had not been back in England since the end of the war. After his release from St Mungo's, he fled as quickly as possible; landing in Paris just in time to start the new year at university. He had barely thought of the future – beyond his education and research that is, but when his thoughts turned to other areas of his future, he saw himself living in his chateau, or even the studio. He barely thought of Malfoy Manor. It seemed such a long time since he thought of that place as home. No doubt he would go back there, but like everything else, it was on a nameless 'someday' – a long way into the future.

Now the reality was settling in. Draco was expected in London on Monday! He sighed deeply. Emmaline patted his shoulder in understanding before heading back behind the counter. "Have you ever had to do something you never thought you'd do? Something you never expected? Something unexpected?" he asked her finally.

"Welcome to the real world Draco. You'll find you'll have to do a great many things you won't like. No matter how much you try to stop it, things will be thrown your way that are unexpected. Face them like the man that you are, Draco."

He sat quietly, thinking on her words. "I... I guess I honestly never expected to go back again. I was so glad to get out of that place after the war. Everywhere I went – there were whispers... you know?" he paused, intent on looking at the seemingly bright and happy wizards in the alley outside. He could still see the faces on those in Diagon Alley the last time he made his way down there. "They hadn't forgotten father. I doubt they'll ever forget him – what he did. I know what they think when they see me down the street," he barely whispered the last words.

"And since when has Draco Malfoy ever worried what others think of him - Hmm? The young man I know doesn't give a toss about that – at least not around here." Emmaline wasn't angry at Draco, but she empathised with his concerns. "Does it really matter that much to you?"

Draco turned and looked at her. He knew she was right. He had run away to Paris when he couldn't stand the stares boring through the back of his skull those few times he was out in public after the war.

"So what if they don't like you. Lots of people don't like me. I don't give a toss! You..." she poked Draco in the chest, "... are a war hero. They all know that. You have your Order of Merlin to prove that..."

"For what it's worth," Draco bit back a bit too vehemently. His sheepish look apologised for the rebuke. "I don't want them thinking of my father. I want to forget him – why can't they?"

"How can they ever know if you don't go back, môn chéri? You ran away, you came to Paris. That's okay, but now, it is high time you at least got your toes wet again. Perhaps you are happy to live your life here; perhaps you see a future on the right side of the Channel. Don't dismiss the possibilities of what you might be missing out on if you don't go back," a wry smile briefly crossed her face, but was quickly gone. "Surely not everyone over there could hate you?" she smiled.

Draco shrugged. "I'm sure a few might find it amusing to patronise me. They'd only do it to better themselves, you know."

"What about your friends?" she asked.

Draco realised she was talking about Severus. He wasn't sure if she knew about Flash, but judging from the twinkle in her eye, she probably did know about his written correspondence – after all, she did tell him all about the journal. Very little got past the shrewd old witch. "Well... perhaps one or two might be the exception," but as he spoke, he thought about Flash. What would his friend's reaction be if he knew Draco's true identity? What would his thoughts be on a former Death Eater spy? He didn't want to think about that.

"Draco – môn chéri – it matters not what others think of you. It's what you think of yourself – in here..." she indicated his heart, "... that counts. Hold your head high. Show them that you are proud – proud to be a Malfoy. Show them the Malfoy name shouldn't be judged by one fool who chose the wrong path," Emmaline's words made sense.

She was right. He couldn't hide away from it forever. As much as he wanted to, it wouldn't help to make life easier. Slowly and ever so slightly he nodded.

"So, are you ready?" she asked.

"No. But I really don't have a choice, do I?" he was resigned to the task ahead. "I mean, I don't even know what I'm going to wear!"

Emmaline laughed loud – loud and long. The laugher was infectious, and Draco joined in. Soon he was feeling much better. He wasn't totally confident, but knew that it was just another step he had to take.

"What's this rubbish?" he looked down into his coffee cup, seeing the milky beverage for the first time. "You trying to kill me or something? How many times do I have to tell you that milk just ruins a good cup of coffee..."

Emmaline smiled as Draco's kindhearted rant continued. At least some things will never change.

oo0oo

Later that evening, he sat pondering the contents of his wardrobe. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it in style. He had finally decided on his best 'day robes'. The sort of robes one would expect a Malfoy to wear. Draco wasn't his father, but that didn't mean he had to totally disassociate himself from all the trappings associated with his birthright. After all, he was going to be discussing that very thing with the goblins at Gringotts. Another piece of advice his father had given, advice in regard to the goblins, suddenly rose to the surface of his mind. "Never show weakness to a goblin. Never let them think they are in charge. It is your money and they are merely servants who are caretakers of our monies. They respect confidence and power. The more confidence you show, the greater the respect you earn from them."

Draco finally decided on the full robes he would wear. He cast freshening and anti-wrinkle charms on them. They had – after all – been hidden away in the back of his armoire since he arrived in Paris. He caressed the large cloak clasp – the one with the Malfoy crest emblazoned in pure silver. Draco held it in his palm. The memories of his father wearing the same clasp came thick and fast. "I am ready to do this!" he said, trying to convince himself it was the right thing to do. Petite Amie miaowed loudly at his verbal comment. She had taken delight in the clothes that had been pulled out and thrown back into the armoire. She stood up and stretched her paws before leaping onto Draco's bed.

He was still irritated and annoyed that he had had to cancel his appointment with his lecturers, and miss almost an entire day of lectures for this meeting. He really couldn't just do these things at the drop of a hat. He had other commitments. Did the bank think he was some overly rich playboy with nothing better to do? He wished.

"Goodness knows what will happen if I don't go," he looked over at the cat, but she had lost interest in the proceedings, and after two circuits, proceeded to fall asleep directly on Draco's pillow. Draco scowled at her, but she was completely untroubled by his unfriendly glance.

oo0oo

He spent much of the day in a complete daze. Even going to the library to work on his assignments didn't seem to help him overcome his preoccupation. Not even late afternoon coffee with Arianna on Sunday helped for very long. Draco wasn't one for great mysteries, especially not surrounding his money, but he didn't like the interminable wait either. The weekend seemed to drag on the more he thought about his imminent Monday morning meeting.

As he sat staring at the fireplace early on Sunday evening, a sudden thought struck. He wasn't used to talking things like this through with his friends. He hadn't said anything to Arianna, but then again, he didn't want to burden her with something like this. He had other friends. But there was one he could contact now – someone he really was long overdue to see.

He walked slowly over to the fireplace. In the rush to grab the Floo powder, he dropped his walking cane with a loud clatter. Petite Amie was startled out of her sleep, but scowled back when she realised the disturbance. He threw a handful of the International Floo powder into the roaring fire. The flames turned ice blue as he called out the name.

The face in the flames was familiar and comforting. The rather strange look of surprise, then delight, that crossed the brow was one not seen by many, but the smirk of delight was a sight Draco had not realised he'd missed.

"Draco! To what do I owe the extravagance of an International Floo call?" Severus Snape asked.

"Oh, I didn't interrupt you, did I Severus?" he asked questioningly.

Severus shook his head. "No, just marking the fifth year Slytherin's essays."

"Ah, well then I've caught you in a good mood!" Draco smiled. The potions master's return smile was equally warm.

"True! I'm guessing this isn't just a social call?"

"Er, not quite. Perhaps we could do that tomorrow – if you're able to cover your classes, that is?"

Severus' eyebrow raised in question.

"How does the Leaky Cauldron, in Diagon Alley sound? Say morning tea time? Or perhaps lunch?" Draco asked innocently.

"You're going to be in London?" Severus was truly surprised. "I thought wild thestrals couldn't drag you back."

"Yeah, well goblins did instead," Draco sounded glum. He proceeded to explain to his mentor the reason behind his impromptu visit to London. Having known Draco nearly more than half his life, Severus could sense his reticence at returning. "I'd hate to face Diagon Alley alone Severus," Draco finally admitted part of what was bothering him.

"You're a decorated war hero, Draco." Draco couldn't fail to note the veiled sarcasm behind the word hero. "What's so terrifying about the English public – no wait – don't answer that, I already know."

"I don't know Severus. Perhaps you can tell me why you avoid Diagon Alley as much as possible?" Draco knew that Severus suffered the same prejudices as he did. Their role in the war was necessary, but not at all glamorous. Nobody liked a spy, and the Death Eater tag was one that they would be forever attempting to overcome. Severus chose to exile himself at Hogwarts, Draco - in Paris.

"Impertinent as always. Point taken, Draco," he said smugly. "I'll make sure someone covers my classes. Besides, I do believe my order at the apothecary will be ready tomorrow. I'll see you then!"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Severus."

Not only did he feel a little better with the realisation he now had something he actually wanted to do in London, his eyes fell on the journal. He knew it was finally time to write to Flash. In all his thoughts he'd nearly forgotten to tell Flash about his date with Jean-Paul.

oo0oo

Dimanche, Mars 16, 2003 Bonjour Flash! You know, I'm so pleased you had a great time on your holiday. You must have needed the time to literally find yourself. I know that if I hadn't crossed paths with Devon on my own trip of peace and solitude, I might have come to some similar conclusions. Only now am I starting to get my head around a few things, and I actually have you to thank for that! I just had to write to you tonight. I'm just a little excited, and well, for me, that's unusual these days, but you're one of the first people I want to talk to! I apologise for not writing sooner Flash, but, well, I've been a very good research boy, and managed to become rather engrossed in my study. But I'm sure you don't want to be bored to tears about the ins and outs of my research. I must have just missed you writing your last entry, and I really did want to say hello then. Never mind. Perhaps we should arrange a time every week when we can talk. That would be great! Luc! Great to see you! I think that's an excellent idea, how does tonight look for you? Hey there Flash. Your ears must have been burning. Were they? But of course! Actually, I was just thinking about you, wondering if you'd gotten my last entry and thinking of how grateful I am that you recommended Sharon and that vacation! Well, you're welcome. How are you feeling now? Is life getting any easier without 'You-Know-Who' (you know which one I mean). Oh - I had to laugh at that... I know it hasn't been all that long since the war, but it seems like ages since I've heard the phrase 'You-Know-Who'. Yes, things are getting easier every day. Like I said in my entry, I think I did love him, but I'm not sure I was really 'in love' with him. I've always thought of that as being something that requires two... you know, being 'in love' with each other? Anyway, since then, I guess there's still some sort of feelings there, but they're layered in hurt and mistrust. I'm not wallowing in it, though. That's a good thing. Good to hear you aren't wallowing. So what now in the life of Flash? I've actually been talking to my supervisors about the new training position I would like to have. They seem to think I would do well and I'm at the point now where I have to climb the ladder - talking to their supervisors and then their supervisors. It's a bunch of silly political barricades really, but I'll just take a deep breath and get through it! How about you? Have you been doing well? Thought about the assignment I asked of you? Well good luck with that. You know, I was actually writing to tell you about that task you set for me. Oh? I think my problem has always been that I've tried too hard to make friends. I do have very high standards - always have done. You know, I think I've made a friend. Another friend, other than yourself, of course. That's great. Do tell. The beautiful thing about it is that I wasn't even trying – I wasn't erecting barriers, or looking both ways before making any commitments. We just got to talking. It's quite bizarre really. I was just in the library the other day, and I helped her with a problem. I had the same lecturer as her in my first year, and he's a twat. But anyway, I tutored her through a problem. She was ever so grateful – apparently I made the difference between her failing and passing the subject. We bumped into each other after classes, and since then, we've met up a couple of times. I've even met her friends. They all seem so nice, and so non-judgemental. We've had coffee, talked, and laughed together. But what's best of all, I look forward to seeing her again. Ari is such a fun witch to be around. I've only known her a few days, but I just seem to find her presence comforting. Is that what true friendship is all about? I'm astounded. All these years, I've never really realised what I've missed out on! Yes, that sounds like friendship to me - congratulations! Yes, friendship usually just comes naturally. Sometimes you have to work hard to keep it alive, but I think true friends just happen. A bit like true love, I suppose. I remember when I first met my best friend, I just felt comfortable around him. And we could talk and we had fun together. As I got to know him better, I realised that there was more to it. We understood each other, we had things in common, and we cared. That's when you really know you've got a true friend - when you care and they care. And when you care that they care. It's the same thing with you. When you were upset and I wished I could be there in person to comfort you, that's when I knew I was growing to think of you as a friend, a true friend. And when you were upset on my behalf because of whatever stupid thing Ollie did (aside from cheating on me) that's when I realised that you thought of me as a friend, too. At least, I hoped you did. Oh, I do think of you as a friend. I was surprised at how angry I got at Ollie, and I haven't met either of you! I was sitting in a café the other day, and I saw this girl come up to a guy and slap him across the face, throwing her engagement ring back at him. He was with another woman. I thought of you immediately. I would have hexed the two timing wanker if I wasn't surrounded by Muggles. As for making friends, you know, I think my problem has always been trust. When I was a child, father picked out the children I would play with. I had no choice in the matter. It didn't matter if I didn't like them, or they me; we were expected to play together, all because our fathers worked together. Then, the one time I thought I wanted to be friends with someone, the other prat wasn't interested. I guess it hurt more than I realised at the time, but I've found it hard to really trust anyone since then. Until recently, that is. Seems like you're turning me into a new man, Flash! Isn't it amazing how our childhood insecurities can affect the rest of our lives and we have to go through so much angst and crap to sort out the reality and make it better? I don't mean that to sound like I think you're insecure, I just... Oh bloody hell, you know what I mean, don't you? So, you trust Ari? I know exactly what you mean – don't worry, I admit I've always been insecure and untrusting towards others. Part of my nature I'm trying to change. Can I trust Ari? I don't know, but I know that I enjoy being around her. I'm not ready to spill my deepest and darkest secrets to her just yet, but I think with time, I could. I think that's where my problem with lovers has been. I've let them in through my barriers, past the trust, and not seen beyond their physical attributes... I just don't know. Love is... hard! I mean, you say that you still 'love' Ollie. I couldn't do that. I just don't think I could ever continue to love someone that did something so wrong to me. I just don't know. I have a very long memory, and have been known to hold grudges for quite some time. I don't think I've ever loved anyone that deeply before. Ahh, sounds like your life and personality calls for a "close friend turned lover". Too bad Ari's female! I guess you'll just have to make a few male friends so you'll have the potential for a really good love relationship in the future. I don't know if I'm ready for that. Let's just take it one step at a time. I'm just glad I have a friend – well, a couple of friends. As for Ollie, well, I still love him in the sense that I have a strong feeling and I would be genuinely saddened if he were to be killed or seriously injured. I think, perhaps, it's the lost love kind of thing. I'm not explaining this well, but I've heard people who have long relationships or break up or divorce and they say on some level they still love the other person. Or maybe it's like the people who still have a certain love and respect for their parents, even if their parents are seriously bad people. Like some of the innocent children of the Death Eaters during the war. They will usually tell you that they love their parents, but they hated the actions and choices of their parents.

Draco thought about that for a moment. Did he really love his father? It was hard. It had been hard to look away from the conditioning he had been given as a child, but there were times when he probably did love his father. After all, for the first fifteen years of his life, he really did think that his father was the most wonderful man in the world, and he aspired to be just like him. I suppose I do love him, but I'm never going to be as stupid as him. He was a fool to think that Voldemort could help him to power and glory. True Malfoys don't seek power and glory through others. He was a fool, but yes, I did love him. He didn't really want to tell Flash just how closely acquainted he was to Death Eater children, he didn't think it would help his friend to understand, considering he worked with Aurors. Besides, he didn't really think it was that important. That was in the past, and he wanted to forget about that. Draco had to stop this maudlin train of thought. He smiled at Flash's flirtatious jibe. Humour was what he needed.

You know... that's quite... profound. I am acquainted with a few of those types, and I think you are right. As for your jibe about a close friend turned lover, are you offering? Ah, Merlin's balls, I can't believe I wrote that? See, I'm in a bit of a good mood. Got a letter from Jean-Paul on Friday. He's going to be in town on Thursday night, and we're going out... so I have to confess that my mind is not fully on the task at hand. I apologise now for my 'written indiscretions'. No apologies needed. I've made those kinds of comments before and it didn't hurt anything. I'm not bothered by it; rather, I'm flattered that you're comfortable enough to joke with me about it! So - an official date with Jean-Paul? Sounds interesting. Have you been writing a lot of letters back and forth? Are you thinking this is getting serious or something? Well, not a lot of letters. Just a couple. I'm minding my manners and trying to be friends with him first. It's bloody hard to do that though. I think if you met him you'd understand what I mean. Have you ever met someone that just oozed sex from every fibre of their being? I don't even know if it will be serious, or if he'll be 'the one' as you asked me once before. I just know that if I want this, I'm going to have to approach it differently than I have with everyone else. I don't want to make the same mistakes I did before. Hmm, I can't say I've had the pleasure of meeting someone like that. Or at least, not that it was fully them as opposed to how I perceive them. I mean, when I was hitting on Charlie he seemed to be oozing sex. But you seem to be on the right track. I've always heard that recognising your mistakes is the first and biggest step in preventing their repetition. Yeah. I know what I want from him in the short term, but I don't know what I want beyond that. I'm being selfish, I know, but I think he wants the same thing as well. Is that being selfish? I don't think that's selfish. It's being honest. You have to be able to recognise your desires if you want to be able to control them. Ye gods, I'm starting to sound like a box of fortune cookies here! No you're not. I just... well, I've said it so many times now. I guess I really want to get to know him on Thursday. I mean, I have only met him a few times, and our letters have been short. I want to really get to know him. He works overseas. I don't even know what his favourite things are - Merlin, this is harder than I thought. I hardly know the man at all... So you want to know what he likes to read and his favourite drink and what kind of childhood he had? That's an honest, mature, friendly attitude! I mean, you aren't telling me that you want to know the colour of his pants and if he has any scars and what his moans sound like and if he smiles or frowns first when he wakes up! Well, of course I want to know all of those things. But I know more about you than I do about him, and I barely know you... This is why I guess we should chat more often, and why I suggested we make a regular time to do just that. I mean, I don't know what your favourite colour is, but I don't know what Jean-Paul's is either... Hmmm, I have a rough time with favourite colours. I've never really settled on one because it depends on what the item is. Like, for clothes - blue, black or green. Eyes - usually blue. Bedding - almost always something close to a dark red. See what I mean, not really just one favourite. Not that you asked, in truth - just thought I'd answer... Ah, then that's good. I hate to have one colour as well. I do find green very soothing, but I certainly don't live and breathe green... but I couldn't just say one colour was 'it'. Nah, you're okay, I just realised that I really have a lot of ground to cover with Jean-Paul - a lot, before I discover all those delicious things I want to know now! Ah, so you're going to make a list of the things you need to know and prioritise them by how intimate they are? You know, that could be done up as a standard list for new relationships and sold! Witches all over the world would want a copy to make sure they were starting their relationships on the right foot! Right. Although I don't think I'd go so far as to actually make a list. But yes, I really should find out more about his favourite things – hobbies and such; before I find out whether or not he's cut. You sound quite cheerful, Flash. Your trip must have done wonders for you then. Are you glad you went? Oh yes. More than I can say! It really helped me to put things into perspective, you know? I mean, Ollie was not the last man on earth. He's not the last person who'll ever find me attractive. He doesn't have to be the last person I learn to care for and maybe love. And really, just walking around in the shops, even the Muggle shops in a nearby shopping district, it just taught me so much about myself. For instance, I learned that I really, really like the feel of silk. I mean, I think I've felt silk before, but in one of the shops I went to, I spent a couple hours just looking at and touching different types of fabrics. And my camera - that's been great fun. My friends and co-workers are getting tired of having their pictures taken, though. I listened to a lot of classical music while I was there and I'm actually thinking about learning an instrument. I've always thought music was fabulous and I think it would be really fun to be able to play something. I can't believe I've lived this long and I've never discovered these things about myself. I think I understand some of what you are saying. Although, I still find it strange that you took a photo of the journal as the closest thing you have to a picture of me. But I think I understand your sentiment in doing so. I'd offer to draw a self portrait to give you instead, but my drawing skills don't extend far beyond stick people! Although I'm sure the journal looks much better than any photograph you may find of me. You know I totally blame you for the fact I've been spending more and more time in the Muggle districts. I even went to far as to overspend in a rather nice fashion house. I'm now the proud owner of a leather jacket, and a pair of jeens. Wow! A leather jacket, and a pair of jeans (not jeens, but you're learning)! Not bad! I don't see how I've been that much of an influence, though. I'm not close enough to drag you there by force, kicking and screaming, hands bound behind your back with a green silk scarf... oops, train of thought went the wrong way. However, I really do have one bone of contention. You want to take your own tea with you when you travel? You didn't like the coffee? are you mad? I'm sure that if I had to drag you kicking and screaming anywhere, it would be to a coffeehouse that makes real coffee, and you'll never want another cup of tea again in your life! And as for the silk scarf comment, do I have to keep reminding you that there are spells for that sort of thing? What? Spells for tying someone up before having your wicked way with them? I know binding spells, and such, but sometimes it's more fun to do it by hand! And yes, I want to take my own tea. I never said I didn't like the coffee, just that I missed my tea! But please, by all means, drag me somewhere and change my life! I beg of you! You could be right, but I'm sure the spells I know would make you forget all that. Gah, there I go again. That vision of Jean-Paul just won't go away. As soon as you brought up the silk scarf... Well, I don't need to elaborate, your mind is fertile enough as it is, judging by your previous comments. You are really looking for a change of pace in your life, aren't you - now that you don't have Ollie as baggage? You mentioned that you're going to look for a better job. I guess that's a start. Are you still in your flat? Wow - you know, as I start to read over my comments, I'm realising that I'm in a mood of some sort. I'm sure there's a little loneliness in this - you know, the loneliness of sleeping alone and not participating in sex. But there seems to be a little bitterness here as well. Yes, I am looking for change. And once I have this new job, I'll probably be moving. After all, it would be easier to live closer to work (these jobs are not in the same city) and a new flat would be the perfect way to start over. Yeah, it would be a nice, fresh start. As for the loneliness, hey, I've slept alone now for three months - that's the longest since... well, It's some sort of record for me! I do know how you feel about your flat. I love this place too much to want to leave, but I did a huge purge after Antonio, and I felt a lot better... I guess I'll be starting on a new record for myself. After the first month or so, it isn't that bad - at least, that's what I remember from last time. I don't think I could have stayed here if I hadn't gotten rid of Ollie's stuff, but that seemed to get it out of my system a little. And the vacation cleared my mind a lot. I'm sure you'll find it rather hard after three months... But aside from my exciting news about Jean-Paul, and having Ari around, it hasn't been all wine and roses here this week. Oh? How so, if I may ask? Well, maybe I'm just being a little melodramatic, but everything just seems to be going so well at present (apart from my celibacy, which I'm working on rectifying), but I had a strange meeting with this complete and utter twat in the bureaucracy here at the university. There's been a little bit of a mix up with some unpaid funds. Goodness knows why. But I've had my enrolment threatened this week by it all, and now I have a meeting tomorrow with some more idiots and goblins who think they own the world because they can control your purse strings. I'm not so mad or worried about it, just the mere annoyance and irritation of having to do all this. It is the last thing I need right now. Of course, even though I don't profess to have any faith in divination, but I've had this feeling of dread for much of the weekend. I don't know – it just seems strange. This whole debacle came out of the blue, and it's just so unexpected. Especially now. Why especially now? I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't need any distractions like this right now. I'm in the middle of writing my thesis, and my research proposal... There I go being selfish again! I'm sorry to be that way. I guess I'm used to things happening one way, and if they don't, well, I guess I could very well say I have difficulty coping with change. I think it's perfectly understandable. Nobody needs to deal with stress when they're already on the verge of being overwhelmed! You have a lot going on with your studies right now, and the trouble of meetings and such to ensure that you can continue those studies - well, it's normal that it would bother you. You are right. Actually, I guess the best thing to come out of it is that I'll be catching up with someone – not a friend, per se, but someone I worked closely with during the war. Oh, so he's not a friend? Are you sure? Not someone who could be a friend, with benefits? Oh please! He was more of a colleague during the war. A sort of a mentor figure to me. He is definitely not the sort to be thinking of as one of those friends. Oh that image has just killed any mood I had. Thanks a lot! But I guess you've made me want to renew old ties, and since I'll be in his town, it was a good idea. But I'm going to be so busy this upcoming week. I've got that terribly important date on Thursday, and two assignments due before then... I don't have time to deal with jumped up berks behind a desk! I still have no idea what I'm going to wear on Thursday. I don't even know where we are going on our date yet! Merlin, my mind is a single track at present... Sorry about that! Sorry to be a mood killer. I'm sure you'll be fine on your date! Just remember to breathe. What were you doing the first time you met him? Were you dressed up all fancy and preened to perfection? Or were you maybe working on a potion, or studying for a class? You were being yourself, weren't you? Just normal, day-to-day Luc? That's what Jean-Paul was attracted to. That's why you don't need to worry about this date! The first time I met him? I petrified him... Actually, come to think of it, I don't think I ever really apologised for that! Merde! Now I've got that to worry about! Merlin, I've ballsed this up, haven't I? I wasn't trying to give you something new to worry about. You're supposed to read these sloppy purple words and tell me that I'm brilliant and it was just what you needed to hear and thank me for the advice. Then you're supposed to tell me how you won't have to worry a bit and you'll get tons of research and class work done because you'll be able to focus so well - all thanks to not worrying, which is all because of my sage words of wisdom! Oh Flash! you are so brilliant, your words of wisdom so sage. I know this date with Jean-Paul will go flawlessly! I have nothing to worry about, and I'll get tons of work done because you've just helped me to focus... how was that? I'm sorry I've made you feel bad. Like I said to you before, I tend toward the melodramatic... just forget what I said. It will be fine! but really, thanks for reminding me that I never apologised for petrifying him! That's better! It amazes me how often you can make me smile or laugh! Now tell me, when you say petrify, do you mean you frightened him, or that you petrified him? No, I 'Petrificus Totallused' him. I, er, thought he was attacking my landlady. Turns out he was her medi-wizard, not just her nephew. He was practising some strange Muggle holistic healing on her and I guess I thought he was attacking her. Like I said, I have trust issues! Oh wow! You must be as amazing in person as you are in writing if he wants to go out with you after a first impression like that! You think I'm amazing in writing? No doubt there's some charm on these journals that turns my simple words into something dazzling then. Just like my ruggedly handsome good looks. That must be what dazzled Jean-Paul.

Draco yawned, not realising the time. He had been writing for hours to Flash, and it was well into Monday morning.

If I stay up much longer, I'm going to miss out on my beauty sleep! Not that I need it for tomorrow... well, today, I'll need as much as I can get before Thursday! You know, I feel so much better for talking to you tonight. I was a little apprehensive about tomorrow, but even after talking to my landlady, as well as to my old mentor, I still felt a little bad. but now - well, I guess I'll be able to face the day! We must do this again - soon! I agree! Let's pick a day and time now, and plan on it! Well, why not Sunday night? That's good for me. Not like either of us have any pressing engagements in our social calendars. And we can always leave a note if we know we can't make it. Sounds good to me. Next Sunday, same time? Sure thing Flash! Bien à vous! Take care Luc, and don't forget to breathe! Bye!

oo0oo

March 17 - Monday Morning

Draco cleared his throat one last time as he ran his hands down the front of his vest. The clothing was immaculate, and he cast one last polishing charm on his boots. He fiddled with the heirloom clasp holding his robes together. The black and silver brocade of the vest offset the high necked cream shirt to perfection. The black trousers were perfectly creased, and his forest green robes shimmered and billowed as he walked up to the mirror. He was as nervous as all hell, his sweaty palms not helping him to close the pin on the clasp. The ornate Malfoy signet ring on his finger, again, another of his family heirlooms, had been caught in the filigree of the clasp. His face was screwed up in concentration as he attempted the tricky task of extricating his finger, without damaging himself, or the fine jewellery.

"Tsk, you might want to rethink that expression, dearie!" the mirror retorted. Draco scowled at the offending mirror. After finally getting the clasp closed, he took one more look into the mirror to check his hair. The mirror wolf whistled. "Oh my dearie, that's much better. Who's the lucky stud-muffin?" the mirror asked cheekily.

"A goblin," Draco retorted. Draco sometimes wished he never bought the mirror from an old second hand shop. He had quickly learned it had once belonged in a dressing room at the back of a cross dressing revue at the Moulin Rouge, dating back to the turn of the twentieth century.

"Really?" the mirror raised a virtual eyebrow at the comment.

"Oh, shut up you two Knut piece of trash, or I'll send you to the old wizard's retirement home," Draco threatened.

"Not much excitement there, dearie," it retorted.

One of these days I'll get a Muggle mirror, he thought. "Well then, perhaps the view in the back of the bookstore would be more to your liking?" he really hated having a mirror with an attitude. Draco knew from the gasp that he had shut the mirror up once again.

He took two deep breaths as he made his way to the pot of International Floo powder on the mantle. I can do this, he affirmed, tightly gripping the snake head on his father's – now his – best walking cane. The blue flames rose high as he stepped into the hearth – and his voice, with a clearly underlying air of disdain, spoke the name of his destination – London Ministry of Magic.

---

TBC

Publish Date: (this chapter) 24-June-2004
Updated: 28-February-2005

For those of you who want to read the uncensored version of this story, a full nc17 version is available at the Skyehawke archive under Azhure's profile.

Review Thank You's!

Wow, so many reviews (41 at time of writing, just for this chapter!). I'll be writing thank you's the length of the chapter if I replied to all of you! Firstly, thanks to everyone who praised the length and the whole chapter. We hope the story is unique and we don't want to rush it, but we don't want you to wait on tenterhooks forever! It does make it easier to write knowing that you all think our humble words are worthy. Even though it's been taking at least 3-4 weeks between chapters, we hope you'll keep up with us. We would love to write more quickly, but alas, RL does interfere. When we win millions of dollars in the lottery, that could change!

Thanks to: adventure diva, Annie T, CelestialDrgn, cheer4life-2005, claire sayers, CuriousDreamWeaver , DarkJade1, Desdemona Sakura, Dragenphly , EdenMalfoy017, Elani Chaice, elfwiththebrows , Emily22 , eth, Famous Angel, fayee , jen red robe, Kaaera, KC, Kyaukii, LadyLilyPotter, LadySilvrene, Lizliterarius,Loria Amnekia, louise4, Menecarkawan , Michael Serpent, Moon Faery, NayNymic , nil-blaze, PeachDancer82 , Rena, Roguemessenger, Ruby-san, Sailor Grape, Serpent of Light, Silvia-Silver , tangledhair , TheTrueSilver, trivium, and V.G.Jekyll

a few special comments:
EdenMalfoy017: Yes, Devon did remind Draco of Harry, but it's been quite a few years since their paths have crossed, so he couldn't quite place why he was familiar...

Michael Serpent: Wow! Thank you for your wonderful words. I love your stories, and don't you dare stop writing, they are definitely worthy of publication! (can't wait for your next fic!)

Elani: Thanks again! Looking forward to the next part of Operation Malfoy!

Rena: I don't think this Draco is going to ever go back to the long hair... He's been inspired too much by the wonderful Justin from Queer as Folk (if you hadn't already guessed!)... Although Saturn Returns Draco might get into some hot leather coming up soon (but that's another story, for another time)!

Moon Faery: Wow! Longest review, like, ever! Congrats! As for how long will we tease everyone? Well, their paths will cross very soon... but I should not have told you that! As for the formatting of the chapter, it's the limitations of Every time we upload, there seems to be less and less codes that the site will allow. Basically, you can't even indent any more, and it doesn't accept the most basic of HTML 1 specification codes, which is almost unheard of! If you want to read it in full colour, then I suggest popping over to our yahoo group!

Jen Red Robe: You thought Harry and Draco were that close before (when Harry and Ollie were in Paris)... wait until chapter 11... I SHOULD not have told you that!

Lady Silvrene: Draco's knee... Hmmm, well, sorry to say that it isn't going to get better. At least, it might even get worse before it does - that's IF it does! There's a few plot points that revolve around his inability to fly; and as you can see, he feels rather unhappy about having to use his father's cane... but just who might he run into in London, looking almost like a younger image of his father? Hmmmm? I should NOT have told you that!

Fayee: You know the drill... more Sherbet Lemons please! Preferably the Tilley's variety! Does the Candy Store have a website, and do they do mail order? WEG

Trivium: Glad you will stick around that long! We hope everyone will stay for the duration! Don't worry, this baby will never be abandoned!

Louise4: Louise, Louise, Louise... Hmmm... So glad you liked all of my last chapter! Hope this chapter helps in getting Draco some real friends... As for keeping Draco away from Jean-Paul... Well, lets just say that Draco needs a bit of loving until he finally realises the truth... He can't stay celibate much longer. I think he'd go insane! But don't worry... Jean-Paul has other reasons to be in the story... Have you checked out his photo in our files section of our group? He's rather hot, actually!

CuriousDreamWeaver: No worries on borrowing the nickname 'Flash'. I actually borrowed it from my father! His name was Gordon, and he was a fighter navigator in the Air Force. His nickname was Flash - Flash Gordon... Of course, he'd either be rolling around in his grave at the thought of what his baby girl does in her spare time (writing slash), or he'd be the first one out there to proofread my work - he always was an 'out there' guy! As for the age difference between Draco and Jean-Paul, well, it's about ten-fifteen years... at least the same age difference between Brian and Justin in the show Queer as Folk...

Tangledhair: You're gonna need a week to get through this chapter (just like Wintermoon:P) Who is going to realise the other's identity first? Hmmm, we are still workshopping the answer to that one. We have several scenarios, each equally likely. But suffice to say that it will be a while before they realise that...

NayNymic: Sorry if you aren't particularly fond of Harry and Draco being in relationships with others, but it's very close to what happens in real life... Yes, they are the OTP, but like real life, you don't just find your soul mate with your first kiss (well, not always). Remember, neither character is 'expecting' a romance with their former enemy, so they are getting on with their lives as best they see fit. Of course, when they do finally meet face to face, and start seeing each other often, then their current activities are likely to change drastically. Trust me on that one! I'm afraid we're trying to keep this story fairly realistic with its emotions and stuff, so don't expect them to fall into each others arms at first sight. Between us, wintermoon and I have a pensioner's number of years life experience, and we're drawing on those ups and downs to fuel the muse (ack, now I feel old...)