No reason to celebrate

Draco stared nonplussed at the red haired man and a hesitant but slightly wicked smile spread on his face.

“Why, if it isn’t Weasleby. Have you finally developed a taste for finer clothes?” the old Malfoy sneer tainted the words.

Ron eyed the tall, blonde man carefully but couldn’t help a cheerful laughter bubbling up in his chest. “Malfoy. How good to see you. Isn’t it a bit embarrassing for you to come to my place for your clothes? Aren’t you afraid I might sell you something not fitting?”

A pale eyebrow shot up and the smile turned into a smirk. “Judging the robes you are displaying, no, I am not afraid. Only that you will charge me too much.”

“Ron?” a female, strongly accented, voice rang out from the back of the shop. Shortly after a delicate face appeared round the corner and Draco found himself staring into the beautiful features of Fleur Delacour.

“Darling, come here. I think you remember Draco Malfoy?” Ron held out his hand and motioned the woman over to them.

“Draco, please meet my wife Fleur.” Ron beamed at his former schoolmate.

A second pale eyebrow joined the first and suddenly a true smile graced the handsome face. “Ron!” Draco exclaimed. “Wow, I didn’t know you had it in you.” He turned to Fleur and gave her a short bow. “Enchanté, Madame.” Draco immediately slipped into French and complimented her on her shop and husband.

Ron scowled slightly. His French still wasn’t very good and he hated not understanding what people were saying. “Would you mind?” he asked a bit annoyed.

“Sorry love.” Fleur kissed him apologetically on the cheek. I will leave you two alone for a few minutes. Mr. Malfoy could I tempt you to a coffee?”

“Yes, thank you.” Draco inclined his head at her.

His arms crossed before his chest, Ron turned back to Draco. “So, what brings you here?”

“Actually I come here to treat myself to a few new clothes. Are you going to sell some to me, or do I have to look for another shop?” The blond man looked at the displays.

“No, no. It’s okay. It’s just a bit strange to see you again.” Ron felt a few hundred questions burning on his mind. The last time he had seen the young son of the most famous Death Eater had been at the end of the war. And suddenly he had disappeared. To his shame Ron had hoped that the bastard had died alongside his father. Only vaguely he had later heard of Draco having left the country and that some very valuable information from him had helped the ministry of magic to track down most of the still hiding Death Eaters. Including Lucius Malfoy.

Ron felt himself searching for the old hatred inside him, but could only find shadowy traces of it. Draco had been their arch nemesis during their time at school, but they had grown up by now and were far more mature. True, Ron felt somewhat uncomfortable right now, but not enough to call it dislike or even hate.

Putting on his best ‘What can I do for you’ smile he gestured towards some robes at his left side. “I think dark green is still you favourite colour?”

Draco chuckled and shook his head. “Why, how did you know?”

“Seize twelve, if I am not mistaken, Monsieur?” the red head moved over to the displays.

“Yes, thank you.”

Draco tried several robes Ron chose for him and in the end picked two, one dark burgundy and one moss green and smirked when Ron even gave him a small discount on them.

Fleur had brought some coffee but had left the men alone so they could talk in private.

Ron had shown Draco into the back of the shop to a small lounge equipped with a few comfortable armchairs and two small side tables. They sat down and sipped their coffee silently at first until Ron cleared his throat and carefully asked the blond man “So, what have you been up to during the last few years?”

“Would you believe it, if I told you that I have been working?” Draco looked at Ron with a sheepish grin.

“Not really. No.” Ron crossed his legs and studied his opposite. Draco had changed drastically over the years. His face had turned into that of a handsome man, his hair was long and shining, braided into a single plaid on the back of the head, a silver earring adorning the lobe of his left ear. He had grown quite a bit. The shoulders broader and legs displaying shapely muscles, as far as Ron was able to detect through the soft fabric of his trousers.

What had changed most, was his voice. It had become soft and deep. The icy edge that Ron had grown used to at school was gone and the eyes seemed faintly darker and had obviously lost their hostile stare. All in all, even though he would never feel buddy-buddy with Draco, the former son of a Death Eater had become pleasant to talk with.

They exchanged some stories of their past lives and shared more than one laugh. Ron told Draco how he had taken all of his courage and had courted Fleur, only to find out that she had been having her eyes on him for quite some time by then. They had married shortly after and since they had found out that Ron was not able to father children, they had taken to opening a shop. Ron had soon discovered his interest in tailoring and had taken up a course that lasted two years and now tailored the robes for their shop himself. Fleur on the other hand had quickly developed a fine hand for wands and so they combined their two interests and the shop was thriving.

Draco told Ron not so much about his narrow escape but more about his work at the French ministry of magic and how he had made his way up to become the sous-secretaire at the ministry. He didn’t mention any of his lovers or any of his love affairs, but Ron had already guessed that Draco only searched for his interests among his own gender. ‘So much like Harry.’ Ron suddenly thought and flinched. He hadn’t thought of Harry for a long time. The boy who lived had estranged himself from the others and nobody had any idea were he was right now. Shaking his head slightly, Ron turned his attention back to the blond, who was watching him intently.

“You were saying?” Ron smiled.

“Never mind, Weasel. It wasn’t important.” Draco sat his cup down and slowly pushed himself out of the armchair.

“You are leaving already?” Ron asked confused.

“Yes, sorry. But I have a few other things to attend to.” Malfoy moved back into the shop and towards the door. Just when he had reached the entrance door, he hesitated and turned back to Ron.

“Merde! I almost forgot. I am on, what you could call, a special assignment. Minister Verné is to hold this years anniversary of Voldemort’s defeat. He has asked me to send out the invitations to all former students of Hogwarts. Since I seem to have found the first one, I would like to ask you if you, by any chance, have any addresses of your friends.” Draco closed the door again and looked expectantly at Ron.

“Addresses? Well, I have some. Wait here.” Ron turned around and quickly moved over to his desk and pulled out a small black book.

With furrowed brows he quickly wrote a few lines on a scroll and gave it to Draco. “I don’t have too many, but if you dare to contact Hermione, she might be willing to give some others.”

“Do you honestly think, Granger will give my any information?” doubt filled Draco’s voice.

Ron smirked “Maybe if you grovel at her feet.”

“Never!” Draco grinned. ”I’ll send you your personal invitation tomorrow.”

“Will we see you again?” Fleur had emerged from her side of the shop and hooked her arm around Ron’s elbow.

“I am afraid, yes.” Draco gave a short bow again and open the door, this time for good “Au revoir.” And with that left the shop.

Outside, standing in the sun, Draco unrolled the scroll and looked through the names on the paper. Hermione Granger; Institute for magical research, Severus Snape; Institute for magical research, department for potions; Fred and George Weasley, Diagon Alley; Colin Creevey, Hogwarts. Draco swallowed hard, meeting Dennis brother was not something he was looking forward to. Quickly he read on.

He found names he remembered from school, some were unknown to him and some he had himself at home. But the most important was missing. There was no sign of Harry Potter. Draco furrowed his brow and pondered over this fact. But Ron and Harry had been best friends. Then how could it be that the Weasel didn’t have the address of the golden boy?

Still wondering about this Draco apparated home and sat down at his desk to get the first invitations ready. After having written twelve invitations, Draco looked at the next address and frowned. Hermione Granger. He leaned back in his chair and without noticing it, started to nibble on his feather quill. He desperately wanted to enclose a letter, but was at a loss about what to write. He surely couldn’t just ask her for some names and addresses. Sighing he remembered Ron’s words. Alright, if it wasn’t to be helped he would grovel.


t.b.c