No reason to celebrate

Immaculately fingers carefully rolled up the parchment and one hand held it closed, while the other reached out for a dark brown wand and magically sealed it.

It was then placed on some other rolls that were already lying in an out basket standing on the large desk.

Work had been rather tiresome today and the young man leaned back in his seat and stretched his back slightly, never moving overly much, finding exaggerated gestures unsuitable. Gently brushing his long blond hair over his shoulders, he stood and smoothed down his burgundy robe, frowning at some creases that had appeared on the front, from the long time sitting down.

Picking up the parchments he walked casually to his office door and left the room, quietly muttering ‘Nox’, never looking back as the candles and other lights immediately went out.

The long corridor was deserted at this time of day and hardly any sounds were heard from the other offices. A fact that made the soft noise of the creaking of expensive leather shoes sound like thunder in the dim light.

Just as he had reached the end of the hall, a door opened to the left and an elderly man stepped into the corridor, a tattered leather bag in one hand and also several scrolls in the other.

“Oh, bon soir monsieur le sous-secretaire.” The older man greeted politely with a light bow.

“Bon soir, monsieur Leroc.” Silver blond hair slid over the broad shoulder as the younger man inclined his head.

Dropping his scrolls in a special box near the exit, the young man left the building with a sigh and once outside, drew in the clear and fresh evening air around him. Life was good, life was peaceful. ouldould walk a little more until he apparated home, before he would shut the world out again and before he would slip into the large comfortable bed to get the well earned rest he needed.

~~~~~~~~~~

‘Again’ Harry thought. ‘Why do I always manage to get the room with the creaking bed.’
Even though this was a fairly expensive hotel, it obviously was no better than so many others he had visited before. Turning to his left side with a sigh, Harry muttered a scingcing charm on the bed, hoping it would hold for the rest of the night and give him the chance to sleep. The journey here had been long and tomorrow would be excessively strenuous. Of that he was sure. As far as he had heard, more than a thousand guests were expected to show up at the convention.

It amazed him that still so many were keen on seeing him, speaking to him and having his autograph, even after all that time. Well, it had been ten years already that Lord Voldemort had been defeated and Harry had saved the wizarding world. But still, he liked it and enjoyed it. It made him happy to hear the cheering and all those beaming faces when he showed up. Smiling happily he closed his eyes and let himself drift into a restful slumber.

~~~~~~~~~~

The sun was high up in the sky, when the door to the office at the end of the long corridor opened and the blond man stepped in lightly, savouring the thought that it was Friday and in a few hours he would have two whole days just for himself, oh well and maybe for De as as well. He hadn’t seen his …., well what was he supposed to call the man he indulged in frequently? Surely Dennis would have called them lovers, but he didn’t want to put a name to it. Dennis was a real Creevy, like his brother Colin, he always plunged into his adventures head first and with all his heart. Still, Dennis was only a rather pleasant pastime for him.

Shedding his outer robe, the young man steered towards his desk, suddenly stopping dead in his tracks as he noticed a scarlet red scroll on the smooth wooden surface. Only the Minister himself was allowed to use them.

Hastily he opened the scroll and frowned. He was expected to come immediately right into then Minister’s office, as soon as he would arrive at work. Quickly he fetched a quill and some parchment and headed down the long corridor again, turning towards the large staircase leading to the upper floor.

Before he knocked at the large dark oak door, he straightened his robe and pushed his long hair behind his ears and cleared his throat. The answer to his knock was immediate.
He pushed the door open forcefully and made his entry.

“Ah, bon jour, Monsieur Malfoy. Comment ça vá?” the round face of the Minister beamed up at the young man that had justeretered his office.

“Merçi, Monsieur Verné. I am quite well.” Draco replied and smiled back at the elderly man.

“Take a seat please. We have much to discuss.” The Minister gestured towards the chair opposite his desk.

With a smooth motion Draco slid into that aat and crossed his legs, folding his hands neatly in his lap. The Minister eyed him with a favoured look and took up some papers that had been lying in a stack on his desk, just to his right.

“Monsieur Malfoy, as you might know,” he began and then chuckled lightly “oh, no how could I put it that way. I am sure you know. You were there then. Anyway, in a few weeks time we can celebrate the most hist eve event, the utter destruction of Lord Voldemort.”

Draco cringed inwardly, not because of the name, but because of certain events that had taken place at that time and had concerned his family and his own life.

The Minister smiled and continued while still looking at the pages in his hand “My fellow Ministers and I have come to the agreement that it would be a erfuerful time to hold a large reception and a banquet afterwards in memory of the fallen and to celebrate the heroes of that event. As far as I now, you yourself were among the many that fought for the freedom of the wizarding world and have been not only a schoolmate but also a friend to many of the most important participants.” He looked up and studied Draco’s face carefully.

Monsieur Verné knew he was treading on thin ice here, knowing that Malfoy’s family had been on Voldemort’s side and he never quite understood what Draco’s real motives had been then. But all in all the young man had been his faithful right hand for some time now and he never once had given him a reason for complaints. Knowing that Draco had indeed attended the same school as the most famous Harry Potter, the Minister felt that Draco was the right man for this job.

“Deonsionsieur Malfoy, you as my sous-secretaire are the right man for this. I would like you to organise the festivities with your foreign colleagues and get all the persons together. Meaning get back in contact with your former fellow students and give out the invitations.”

Draco had managed to keep his face as calm as possible. For over nearly ten years he had been free, free of his past, of unpleasant memories and free of former fellow students, as Monsieur Verné had put it so nicely. The only exception was Dennis Creevy, whom he had met in a café in Paris some months ago, and finding him eager and willing had taken the much younger man not only to his home but also to his bed. Draco had kept it a light and sufficient relationship. He had taught Dennis not to ask any questions, not to bother him and not to expect anything but an occasional night in Draco’s bed. But know suddenly he was supposed to get back in contact with all those people from his former school. And he new for sure that most of them would not be too happy to hear from him. Whether they had been from the Griffindor, Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff side. And neither would the few Slytherins that had taken side with Dumbledore at that time. Still, he nodded politely, reached for the papers the Minister was holding out for him and smiled one of the brilliant false smiles he had perfected over the many years.

t.b.c