Fit

"We have a problem, gentlemen," Rowle splayed his fingers across the leather of his desk. Behind him, the full-length windows looked out onto greyish green plain with ramshackle huts, looking like a child had tried to make their own city out of glued together sticks. And failed miserably. People shuffled around, like crushed insects, looking washed out in their black and white jumpsuits. "There are too many Inferiors for the current camps we 're overflowing and we simply don't have enough room. Until they pass or until we find a use for them, we are going to need more camps." Rowle was my Taskmaster, one of the many men I answered to. He was the one who told me what to do on a daily basis. And by Merlin, do I hate it. Malfoys don't take well to being ordered.

His eyes swept around the conference room, taking in everyone who was present. Zabini, Goyle, Crabbe, Shunpike, Nott and I stared levelly back.

Rowle settled his beady eyes on me and said, "You have a extensive amount of land Malfoy. Ever since your disgraced father retired you have a substantial amount of . Surely you can fashion it into something suitable?"

I clenched my jaw but nodded, "I'll see what I can do."

He smiled a shark's smile and said, "Good. Make it ready for 50000 next month, then another 50000 the next month. Think you can do that Malfoy without fucking up?"

My wand was clenched hard between my fingers. "Of course," I said in a surprisingly calm voice, while I was thinking of ways to split Rowle's guts onto the floor and make him eat them. But that would definitely not help my current status . Pity.

"Good," he replied, a sickly smile telling me that he knew exactly what I was thinking. He shuffled the parchments on his desk and pulled out an official looking document, "Secondly, the Dark Lord wishes for young men, such as yourselves, to root out those few Undesirables and Inferiors that are holding out in the country. It's an opportunity you should all take advantage of."

We nodded, a spark of rivalry thickening the air between us. Slyhterins all of us, we all wanted to climb the ladder into better things. It was our instinct, our need to survive. I was already thinking of possible hiding places and spots to go looking for any Undesirables and Inferiors. Out of all them, I probably needed it the most. The higher in the ranks I was, the less likely people will think I'm hiding an Inferior in my home. No, I am not missing the irony.

"And finally, the Dark Lord in his generosity, has allowed for Inferiors to be taken for…entertainment." Everyone else looked like Christmas had come early. "I don't care what the fuck you do with them, just so long as they are either returned or disposed of. We can't have you releasing them like rabid dogs. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," we all murmured.

"Now fuck off and do something useful," Rowle dismissed us with a jerk of his hand and we all hurried away.

"Want to work together?" Zabini whispered the question quietly as we walked through the halls of the once muggle castle, back towards the camps. I nodded, "I was thinking the Isle of Skye. It's a place of deep magical significance. The mudbloods and blood traitors will head there first."

He nodded, "This weekend? Check it out."

Another nod, "We'll meet at Malfoy Manor. Come prepared."

Zabini grinned, "I love mudhunting. And its open season."

As he walked away, a part of me felt nauseous. I apparated back home and began to make preparations to convert the 100 acres of land into a camp for Inferiors. Clearing out vegetation, ordering in timber, employing extra hands to at least start erecting the shacks, the size of matchboxes, meant for at lease 10 people per shack. The air was filled with the grunts, hacking's and sawing's of the workers and I surveyed the forming camp.

Three weeks, and no one had suspected a thing. No one knew, that as I stood here right now, there was a muggle scurrying behind my walls. Oh Merlin, the bloody irony.

Lucy and I had been overly polite to each other when I visited, which was only twice, tiptoeing around each other.

Every time I looked at her, I would think about what I'd taken from her. It made bile rise up my throat. She was putting on a brave face. But it was Moppy who told me that she would often hear quietly muffled sobs coming from Lucy's room. That made everything worse.

Suddenly, with a crack, a male house elf named Hooks apparated in front of me. After bowing lowly, he said in a respectful voice, "Mrs Parkinson and Miss Parkinson have come. They are waiting in the foyer."

I sighed heavily through my nose, "What do they want?"

"An audience with you. They wish to speak with you about the wedding."

I swore darkly, "Tell Duke to supervise."

I trekked back to the house, wishing to put this off for as long as possible.

Ariadne Parkinson was just as irritating as her daughter, if not more so. There they stood, in my shabby foyer, dressed in expensive silks and velvets, identical faces scrunched up into polite disgust. "Well hello, Draco darling!" Ariadne's voice was high pitched as she and her daughter drew towards me, "I haven't seen you since the party."

"I must apologise," I said, brushing my lips against Pansy's knuckles, "I've been busy with the Cleansing."

"Ah indeed, the wonderful work of the Dark Lord. Finally! Good to see the filth drained away. Good that my daughter is marrying one of the enactors!"

She laughed like a canary and I smiled back, hiding my headache. "Please, come through. Make yourself comfortable." They followed me into the deep red living room, the portraits of my ancestors watching us as we sat on the couches I did not use.

"I'm sorry about the state of things," I said, eyeing the fraying edges of the curtains, "I've been a bit preoccupied."

"No matter," Ariadne waved her hand imperiously, "Just needs a woman's touch." She patted Pansy's trembling leg. Pansy simpered, "So true, so true."

"Hmm," I said, "Indeed…speaking of which, you wished to talk about the wedding…?"

"Yes, we were wanting to smooth out the details…" Ariadne launched into a detailed and longwinded lecture. I would nod and agreed to everything she said. Yes, we can get married in the garden. Of course the reception will be held in the manor. I will provide the food and drinks for the night. Blah, blah, blah.

When they left, it was mid-afternoon, since I had started the day early. I checked on the work going on in the camp and all seemed to be running smoothly. I decided then I would visit Lucy.

Back through the winding pathway through the forest at the edge of the Malfoy Manor garden, I followed it until I came across the wall that was much more than it seemed. I still remember my father telling me about it, drunk as he was, words slurring. He meant it as a private wedding gift, "Since the bride is no beauty." If he knew what I was using it for now…

When I entered, the garden surrounding the cottage was just as untamed as it was before. I treaded over the tangled weeds and shrubs before entering the tiny cottage. I was met with the sight of Lucy's long pale legs. In muggle jean shorts.

I stood gaping at them, staring at the creamy skin. Lucy Warren certainly wasn't an ugly girl. She was pretty attractive for a muggle. And I'm a male. Do the maths.

"See something you like sonny? Or is there something on my arse?" Lucy looked down from her perch on the ladder next to the stairs, paintbrush in hand looking like a pin-up girl with a wicked smile gracing her lips. It was first smile I had seen from her since before the Cleanse.

I coughed and looked away, "I apologise."

"Nah, no need," Lucy said, still grinning, "The look on your face was classic. And I've received much worse. That's what you get for working in the café. Some men, especially builders in from lunch, have wandering hands."

She carefully stepped off the ladder, placing the paintbrush on top of a pot of light yellow paint. "You want a cup of tea? We've just made a fresh pot."

She was being strangely nice to me. It was almost like we were back in the café again and I was just David to her. "Uhm…well…"

"Ah go on, live dangerously. Gremlin is currently removing some particularly nasty magical rot from the spare room upstairs and I've been meaning to talk to you."

She wiped her hands on the large oversized shirt that I assumed must have been her father's and beckoned towards the kitchen. She took my hand and pulled me into the freshly painted kitchen. It was now in soft colours blue, the small dining table covered with a blue and white checker table cover, a glass vase filled with wildflowers. The stove gleamed and the cupboard doors were fixed straight, tins were lined up neatly on the shelves. The cold light flooded the room through the floral blue curtains, alighting on the warm flagstones. She pulled out a couple of mugs and filled them with amber liquid from a copper kettle. "Do you take milk or sugar?"

"Just… straight," I said, running my finger along intricate wildflowers that were painted on the woodwork of the chair. "You've cleaned this place up well."

"No need to sound so surprised!" Lucy laughed, setting the mug on the table, "Why don't you sit down? You look like you are about to bolt."

I sat down and wrapped my fingers around the heat of the green and white striped mug. "Would you like a biscuit? Gremlin got these magic biscuits, what are they called? Clouds? I've been trying all week not to eat them all in one go. They're so good! They're like the biscuits you get in those big tins from Marks and Spencer, except nicer if that's possible. Anyway, I digress, do you want one?"

I sat stunned for a minute; completely amazed that Lucy was back to her old chatty self. She'd been like a ghost before, drifting around from one chore to another. I thought she would always be like this, her soul crushed.

"Uh…no I'm fine thank you," I said, before taking a sip, "What is it you want to talk about?"

She blew the steam off her mug and picked up a feather light Cloud biscuit from a tin on the shelf, before sitting down on the chair opposite me, "Well, I've been going through all my stuff and I came across an old book of mine."

I stared at her, wondering where this was going. "It was the Diary of Anne Frank," she elaborated, swinging back on her chair to take a worn, dog-eared book off the kitchen side. She handed it to me and I took a look at it. On the front was a frozen, black and white picture of a girl with short dark hair smiling widely at the camera. "That's Anne. She was a Jew in Amsterdam during the Second World War."

"Uhm…I'm not familiar with muggle history," I said, turning the book over to read the words on the back.

"I know that!" she said irritably now, "I was going to explain it! Basically Jews were a group of people, defined by their religion, that have been discriminated throughout history and it all came to a head during the Second World War, which happened in the early twentieth century. There was this political party in Germany, known as the Nazi Party. Their policies directly discriminated against Jews. They were made to wear a star to mark them out on the outside, disallowed them from using parks, cafes and such like, pushed them into ghettos before finally deporting them into Death camps and concentration camps. This was called the Holocaust, hence the reason I've used that term several times. You follow me?"

I nodded, eyes locked on her hazel ones, "Well Anne Frank, along with her family, hid in a set of rooms they called the Annexe. They survived there for 2 years and Anne wrote what happened all down into her diary, which she had got for her 13th birthday." She took a deep breath before saying; "I'm like her, in that respect. I have to hide too, for my life. Albeit…my family isn't here with me, but its still the same principal. She was so…brave about it all. She always kept hope, no matter what. What did she say? 'I simply can't build my hopes on a foundation of confusion, misery and death... I think... peace and tranquillity will return again.' Isn't that wonderful of looking at things?"

I nodded, not wanting to take away that bright look in her eye, "So, I'm going to change my attitudes about things. See things in a different way. I'm going to try to be hopeful, that things will get better, since that's really the only way to live. There are so many things I should be grateful for: my life, my freedom, a roof over my head and food on the table. It could be so much worse! And…I want to get to know you."

I started; surprised that she was talking to me directly now, "Why?" I asked.

" 'Cause you saved me," she said quietly, "for whatever reason. And its unfair that I resented you for it. I'd like to have those laughs we used to have. I want to be your friend, someone to talk to. It's a small repayment for what you've done for me. I'll try to listen to whatever is bothering you. You understand?"

"Lucy, this is very…nice of you, but I'm not a sharing guy. I don't do heart-to-hearts," I said, pushing my mug away.

Her eyes became earnest, and she grabbed my hand holding it tightly, preventing me from leaving, "That's fine! You don't have to! We can just talk about our families or books or -hell!- maybe even the weather. I just… I want someone other than Gremlin to talk to. Don't get me wrong, Gremlin is a lovely wee thing, but I can't have a conversation with her without her breaking down. I'll make it even more worthwhile and make you my Granma's famous lasagne; it's to die for. And I don't make that for just anyone. Please? Would you at least consider it?"

She pouted her soft pink lips her face taking a forlorn look. Looking at her in that way seemed to tug at something in my chest. She was right. She was good company, something soft and easy in a harsh world. I sighed through my nose but nodded.

The brightest grin lighted her features and she did something entirely unexpected. She hugged me.

The only person who had ever hugged me was my mother, and that was when I was small. Feeling Lucy's warm and alive body close to mine did things to my head and gut. I tentatively patted her on the back, not sure what else to do, before gently extracting myself from her.

"Uhm…I can't stay, this was just to check up on you." I stood back, realising she had got wet paint on my waistcoat. I chose to ignore it

She looked a little disappointed but her eyes suddenly brightened, "You can come tonight! For dinner. I'll cook…spaghetti, save the lasagne for later. How does that sound?"

"Alright," I said, shrugging like I didn't care, "shall I come around seven?"

"Sure," she said, "Dress casually, you're always in black. Makes you look like you're at Death's door."

"I'll try," I said, startled by the novelty of someone other than my mother caring about me, "I'll see you tonight."

"Looking forward to it," she said smiling, placing the mugs into the sink, and following me back out into the hall. She picked up her paintbrush and ascended the steps, continuing her work on the wall beside the stairs.

I quietly shut the door behind me, trekking through the matted weeds, careful not to trip. I was strangely looking forward to tonight.

*D*L*

Later that evening, when the workers on the land had been dismissed, I retreated back to the Manor, dressing in black slacks and a dark green shirt. I thought about bringing a drink of some kind, and decided to bring a bottle of fire-whiskey. I made another journey back to the Sanctuary. Upon entering the small cottage, my nose was assaulted with the smells of a cooking meat and tomatoes. Entering the bright kitchen, I saw Lucy standing by the stove and Moppy setting the table with bright silver ware and was wearing a dark blue button up dress and her hair was pushed back with a white hairband. She was pretty

Moppy, on sight of me, bowed lowly, "Good evening Master Draco."

"You're here! Do take a seat," Lucy said brightly, head nodding towards the table, "What's that you got there?"

"Firewhiskey," I said, setting the bottle down so that it glimmered in the candle light.

"Firewhiskey?" she asked, brow creased as she sprinkled basil into the large pot she was stirring, "is that really strong whiskey?"

"Basically," I said, "Moppy, get the wine."

Suddenly, a wooden spoon dripping with tomato sauce was hovering an inch from my nose. "None of that now," Lucy practically growled at me. "Remember your p's and q's."

I chewed on my tongue and said quietly, "Please may you get the wine, Moppy?"

"Gremlin, don't go into hysterics. It will only encourage him," Lucy admonished, retreating back to the stove.

Moppy managed to remain calm, even if her eyes shone but scurried away to the pantry and came back with the white wine. She poured me a sip to taste and once I approved of it, she filled the glass and Lucy's.

"Miss Lucy?" she said, proffering the glass.

"Uh…thanks Gremlin," she said, taking the glass tentatively from the house elf's fingers, "Never really drank white wine before."

"How come?" I asked, tracing the pattern of the tablecloth.

She shrugged, "Whenever I drank, it was usually beer or cider. Cheap as chips and bought with fake ID. My mates and I would go to the local park with a six-pack and drink when no one was about. It would be the same with my ex-boyfriends. Shared can of lager at the back of his car."

Pang of unfamiliar jealousy went through me as she smiled reminiscently, and continued to stir the pot, "What about you? When and who would you drink with?"

"I would always bring a bottle of fire-whiskey or mead into school in my trunk. My mates and I would drink it in our dorms. The teachers never really cared about that kind of thing. We could have been doing a lot worse than that."

"You went to boarding school?" she asked, swilling her wine glass.

"All children from the Wizarding world go to Hogwarts," I said, "There is no other school in Britain that caters to wizards."

"Fancy that!" she spoke, "What was it like?"

"We had Houses," I said, "four of them. They were our homes when we were there."

"And which one were you in?" she asked.

"The cunning one," I replied, taking a swig of the golden liquid.

She snorted, "Not surprised."

A ringing cut through our conversation and Lucy bent to extract a tray of freshly baked dough balls from the stove. "What about you, which school did you got to?"

"Local high school and then the local college," she said, as with quick nimble fingers, she deposited the hot dough balls into a bowl, "I'd only have to walk down the road."

She set the bowl on the table along with a small slab of butter. She set the lid on the bolognaise and came to sit down beside me. Moppy had been washing up but Lucy beckoned her, "Come sit with us."

"I'd much rather wash up, Miss Lucy," Moppy responded.

Lucy rolled her eyes but sat down, "Try the dough balls. Made from scratch, since there ain't no thing called microwave dinners anymore."

"I'm going to pretend I know what that is," I replied, picking up a dough ball and wiping it in the butter.

"Basically, its this box that, when you press buttons on it, creates heat on the inside of it. Like a stove, except smaller and you can't put metal in it," she explained, "Its muggle magic."

I frowned at the oxymoron, tossing the dough ball into my mouth, "Hardly."

Raising her eyebrows she picked up another dough ball, rolling it between her fingers, "Why? Don't believe muggles have their own magic?"

"You don't," I said, starting to sound imperious, "You cannot possibly understand the word."

Her eyes narrowed, "Has your race ever been to the moon? Unravelled the code for human DNA? Made hundreds of tons of metal fly?"

She had me on those. She smiled triumphantly and took a swig of wine, "Just 'cause we can't use wands does not mean we can't achieve anything. We just have our own way of doing things. Anyway," she sat up and smiled warmly at me, "no need to dwell on stuff like that. You like the dough balls?"

I nodded, taking another one, "mhmm, where did you learn to cook?"

"I cooked a lot with my mum a lot," she said, finger tracing the rim of my glass, "We'd spend whole afternoons just cooking stuff for the week and putting it into bags for freezing."

"Describe your family," I said, "I always wondered what a muggle family was like."

She smiled and nodded, launching into a monologue about her entire family. And it was a big one. Cousins and aunts and uncles and great aunts and great uncles and grand parents. She described her brothers, her older 21 year old brother who worked in the army as an officer and had a girlfriend with blonde hair and was the sister Lucy never had. Her two little twin brothers, Mark and Luke had only just turned into nursery age and had already managed to become notorious for their behaviour.

While she talked, she served the spaghetti bolognaise into bowls and set them on the table. The smell was mouth watering and I smoothed a napkin across my lap. "Gremlin? You gonna have a portion?" Lucy asked, pulling out a much smaller bowl, "I'm not going to take no for an answer."

"Thank you, Miss Lucy," Moppy replied, voice thick with emotion, as Lucy gave the bowl to her.

"You're welcome Gremlin," Lucy said, smiling warmly at the elf. As Lucy sat down she told me, "Gremlin and I have a deal. I do the chores every second day and she every other day. It's a fair deal I think, don't you Gremlin?"

Moppy frowned, as she hopped up onto her small little cot in the corner, "I'd prefer to work all the time, but Miss Lucy but you insisted."

Lucy sighed, sticking her fork into the mess of her spaghetti, "One day Gremlin, you'll understand what I am trying to give you."

Her eyes flickered up to me and she smiled, "So enough about me, what about your family?"

"Uhm…not a lot to tell," I said, spinning the pasta between my fork, "Only child, my parents were married at an early age. My family isn't…orthodox you could say."

She cocked her head onto one side, "How so?"

Should I tell her that my aunt likes to torture muggles as a hobby? Better not. "They're just not normal. They're diehard Deatheaters some of them."

"And you're not?" she asked, her voice quiet now.

"…Good question," I muttered, "Compared to others, not really. But I have to be a good Deatheater, or my neck is on the line." I took a bite of pasta and tried very not to moan. It was so good, if not better than elf food.

"I'd never thought I'd live in a time where there was a dictatorship," Lucy muttered, "There was the BNP, but no one ever thought people would be stupid enough to vote for them."

She shuddered and filled her mouth with spaghetti. "I never really thought it was going to happen either," I said, "I said the words, did orders but never really believed it would become a reality. I never wanted anyone I cared about to get hurt."

"Hmm," she muttered, "It's all so fucked up."

"Cheers to that," I muttered, proffering my glass. She clinked hers against it and we both took a swig before setting the glasses down.

"I keep on thinking about random people that I didn't necessarily know but always saw," she said, running her fingers through her hair, "The cashier woman at Morrisons, a guy who always sat at the back of the 27 bus, the man who always walked his greyhound every Sunday morning. Its weird to think they're gone."

She placed her chin in her hand and smiled sadly, "I just…ugh, its too much to think about."

She shook herself and brightened her smile, "I suppose things are pretty hectic out there. Reforming an entire society must be tough."

"Don't even go there," I rubbed my temples, "fucking nightmare. I'm just an errand boy. The Dark Lord has us running around, while he sits in the Ministry of Magic conducting the next wave of attack on the surrounding countries."

" God," she muttered, her eyes downcast, "I see what you mean about staying here forever. This Dark Lord, what makes him so powerful?"

"He's immortal, or close to it," I explained, "and has the support of some of the richest families in the Wizarding world."

"Ah, that always helps," she said drily. There was a pause, filled with the sounds of us eating.

"Like the food?" she suddenly asked, her eyes flickering up to me.

"Yes, thank you. Its delicious," I said, picking up another forkful of spaghetti, "I've never had a person who is not a servant cook for me before."

"That must be a novelty," she said amusedly, "how does it compare?"

"Its good, really good," I said, finishing off the last piece of pasta, "Thank you for taking the time."

"You're welcome," she said warmly, "I just wanted to cook for someone, to be honest."

She picked up our plates and made her way towards the sink. "Here let me," I said, and with a casual flick of my wand, the dishes leapt out of her hands and began washing themselves.

She stood there, a shocked look on her face, before she recovered. "So tell me how that works," she said to me, grinning widely, "You didn't say 'hocus pocus' or 'abracadabra'. Or are wizards not allowed to reveal their secrets?" While she said this, she picked up two bowls of fresh fruit salad from the windowsill and placed them on the table, gesturing for me to sit.

I spun my wand between my fingers, part of me pleased I could get to show off. "All wizards are born with magic residing in them. We get our wands when we turn eleven. The wands are a way of channelling that magic, focusing into a particular form. When we first learn how to use magic, we use verbal commands but you eventually learn to do it silently, which is bit difficult to learn."

She listened attentively, eyes bright with curiosity, "Wow… would you mind showing me again?"

I smiled at her child like glee and waved my wand. Instantly, the multi coloured fruit in her bowl into gems. The strawberries into rubies, the blueberries into sapphires, the grapes into emeralds, the slices of plums into amethysts. She gasped and then laughed in delight, "amazing! Certainly better than making a white rabbit disappear."

It sent an unfamiliar feeling through my body to have made someone laugh in such a way. A smile of my own spread across my face. Another flick of the wand, and the gems were turned back into fruit again. "Glad you enjoyed that," I said, resisting the urge to trace the lines of her smile.

"That was actually brilliant," she said, popping a grape into her mouth, "Can you do anything else?"

I leaned forward, so all I could see were her eyes, "Everything else. I can do anything I want."

She raised her eyebrows at me, "That turns you on doesn't it?"

I couldn't help it, I laughed, settling back again, "Its pretty fucking awesome, you've got to admit."

"Hmm," she said, rolling a blueberry between her fingers, "I don't think a person should have that much power inside them. It'll go to a person's head. Honestly, I'm surprised that you managed to fit your head through the door."

I snorted, "You were the one who said it was amazing."

Her eyes went wide and her words took on a poor American accent, "why, I'm just a poor simple muggle girl. I don't know nothin' about no magic."

"That was a terrible accent," I said smiling, finishing off my wine.

She shrugged, "I'm not an actress."

"What are you then? What do you want to be?"

She smiled softly, eyes now downcast, "I used to dream about opening my own little café. In a small town somewhere, not too small. Bake the cakes that would go in the front window. Decorate it in shades of blue and yellow. I'd be happy with the profits I got from the café. That's why I was a waitress. Had to start somewhere. What about you? If you weren't a Deatheater, what would you be?"

I traced the rim of my bowl, "I wanted to be lots of things. A Quidditch player the most, but I never really thought of my future. It was expected that I would follow in my father's footsteps; investments and upholding the family name."

Lucy stared at me for a moment, as if I was a puzzle she was trying to crack. She broke her gaze from me and picked up the firewhiskey, frowning at the bottle. "I've never really drunk normal whiskey before, let alone this stuff."

Glad at the change of subject, I leaned forward, conjuring two crystal tumblers, "you do need to get a taste for it."

Taking the bottle from her hands, my fingers brushed against hers. She jolted, and released the bottle to my hands. I smiled at her reaction while pulling out the cork, I poured into both glasses before handing her one.

She swilled it, took a sniff and instantly did a double take, her eyes watering. "Bloody hell! You sure I'm not going to be blinded by this stuff?"

I laughed, picking up my own glass, "Yes I'm sure…what should we toast to?"

She thought for a moment, her brow creasing in a way that made me want to smooth it out, before saying, "To survival. May we both come out of this alive."

"I'll drink to that," I replied clinking my glass against hers, "To survival."

"To survival," she echoed before pressing the glass to her lips. We both took a swig.

That was the point when Lucy began to choke. "Jesus, Mother Mary!" she gasped, bent over coughing, "By fuck, that burns!"

That's when I bent over, laughing my arse off. Lucy smacked me, hard on the shoulder, "You've fucking poisoned me, you bastard!" she retorted, yet her eyes were filled with mirth, "Bloody hell, that stung."

I filled her empty wine glass with water and handed it to her, still sniggering at her choking session. "You are such a son of a bitch," she whispered hoarsely, taking the water and draining it in one go.

"And you're such a pansy-arse," I replied, smirking, "It wasn't that much for Merlin sake."

She began to chuckle, "I'm going to repay you for that. Personally, I think I'll stick to white wine."

She got up, and grabbed my hand, pulling me out of my chair and out of the kitchen, leading me to the living room. This room was decorated in colours of browns and reds, a fire set up in the wrought iron grate. The on the walls shelves were filled with worn books and ornaments, making the place look lived in. She pulled me down onto the red couch. "So, what kind of crap did you get up to in school? I'll tell you about that one time my mates and I went through all the school clocks and changed them an hour back so we were all let off an hour early…"

I think we talked until 2 o'clock in the morning. I hadn't laughed like that for a very long time. For a few short hours, I forgot about the outside world. I was even only vaguely aware of Moppy cleaning up in the kitchen. It was with a reluctance that I got up.

"Well it was nice-" she yawned widely, covering her mouth quickly with her hands, "excuse me! It was nice having you around. It'd be cool to do it again."

"That would be great. I'll see you soon," I said, and out of habit I took her hand and kissed her knuckles.

She raised her eyebrows at me and then made an exaggerated curtsey towards me, "I'll see you soon my lord."

"You are so full of shit," I chortled, covering my embarrassment with sarcasm, "Bye Lucy."

She smirked and said, "Bye Draco… be safe."

I opened the door and stepped outside, breathing in the cold night. I treaded towards the door in the garden wall.

There we go! Did ya like it? I liked writing Draco and Lucy having some time together, they're both so cute that way.

Anyway…any thoughts?

Emily