The Missing Pieces

“Missing Pieces”
Author: Ebraheart

Pairing: Draco X Harry
Warning(s): Mild language, Fluff/Sap
Violence and sexual situations in later chapters

Disclaimer: They aren’t mine, I’m just borrowing them for this one fic ^_^

Dedicated to: Sarnetto-Chan, who loves Harry and Draco more than anything.
If I could give them to you, I would.

Ebra’s notes: This is entirely made up stuff. I was just having fun. Anyway, if people like the story or have any comments or suggestions to make to improve my somewhat stilted writing, please feel free to voice your opinions. Just no flames, please. Those don’t help me write people! ^_^

~!@!~

Intro:

Voldermort is dead. Harry is even more famous then he already is and now has a powerful position as a supreme wizard in the magic world. Draco, forgotten with the death of the dark side, decides that his now dull life needs a change of pace. His parents are dead and have left him with the family fortune and little else. Placing half of it in the Gringotts bank for safekeeping, he takes the other half and decides to check out the Muggle world. Once there, Draco finds himself fascinated by these simple people and their ways and quickly enough establishes himself a comfortable and independent life secretly among them.

Years have passed and Draco is twenty-three, well established, a young lawyer, an entrepreneur, an easy-going gentlemen, and maybe even happy. Yet, he hasn’t ever had an ordinary life, and fate simply decides to twists everything again. However, when he returns home to his lavish London apartment the night of his birthday to find his snow-white Persian cat, Elizabetha, chasing a poor delivery owl around, his contact with the Wizard is suddenly restored…

~!@!~

(Into Chapter)

Chapter One: Complicated Simplicity

~!@!~

{Draco}

Waking up is a chore, but I must admit that actually having to get up and go to work today is even more so. Saturday, especially to me, is a sacred day given to us all for the sake of repose. Unluckily for me, I have to be in the office in less than an hour. Rolling out of bed, I make my way into the bathroom. Elizabetha is perched on the counter and admiring herself in the mirror. Amused, I pick her off and set her gently on the floor, “Morning Precious”

Wide and intelligent green eyes peer up at me and she mewls before strutting out of the bathroom and out of site. Turning to the mirror myself, I take a moment to peer at the gentleman starring back at me. Short, white-blond hair, ice blue eyes, pale skin, chiseled, if not classic features and charming smile. I laugh at myself before turning and starting the shower. While the water heats, I head back into my bedroom and into my expansive walk in closet. An Armani suit is picked and already set out for me. I look over it briefly before turning to find my cologne. Moments later, I have all I need and head back into the bathroom, where steam has started to fog up the place.

Placing my clothing on a tall stool set in the corner, I strip off my briefs and slip into the warm water. My routine is systematic and efficient and I’m out before ten minutes have passed. I dress quickly, spray cologne lightly and gel my hair before drifting out and into the kitchen. The flat is large but rather open. I detest having to walk down winding hallways to get anywhere, so there are hardly any of said hallways in my home.

Elizabetha wraps herself up around my ankles and I smile at her, “Hungry, pet?”

She seems to nod and I set about making her breakfast and my own. Setting both plates on the high table, I place Elizabetha on the table and watch her eat her expensive cat food I insist on having bough for her. Most would tell you that I spoil her rotten. It happens to be the truth. I have been here for nearly five years yet it hasn’t occurred to me to date or go out with anyone. It wasn’t as if I didn’t have opportunities either, what with all the women who fawned over me at work and the people I met on a daily basis. I suppose I was simply at bit of a loner.

As for Elizabetha, I found her a little while after I first arrived in the Muggle world. The poor thing was cold, mangy and hungry. Taking uncharacteristic pity on her, I took her in and she has been with me ever since. Turns out that under all that filth she was a pedigree cat with a pure bloodline. I would never admit it to anyone else but she actually reminded me a lot of myself. She was proud and defiant, yet as alone and uncertain as I was after the death of my mother and the disappearance of my Death Eater father. Her life was not unlike my own; having been abandoned to some extent and left to fend for herself.

Now, I was well established and quite capable of taking care of myself. I had always been proud of my ability to argue and here in the Muggle world, the career choice was clear. So far, being a lawyer hadn’t disappointed me in the least and I have yet to get bored of it all. The weekend morning meetings were a tad tedious but if not for them I would not get to appreciate the rest of my weekends. Breakfast was short and I was ready to leave before I knew it. Heading to the front door with Elizabetha trailing behind, I paused to pull my coat on, a long, black, and leather affair, and fished about in the left pocket for my keys. Finding them, I then reached down to scratch Eliza behind the ears and left the flat.

~!@!~

The parking lot of my particular apartment complex is rather large and I have never been a man of patience. Luckily, I bought a car with a few interesting attributes. Pressing a small black button on the keys I have, I scan the lot and see my car’s lights and make my way over. Like most lawyers, I drive a BMW. Sleek and silver. I smirk: I drove a car that resembled me in more aspects then one. Slipping in, I start the car and smoothly pull out. At the entrance of the garage, I can see Mr. Thompson waiting. I drive by slowly and answer his cheery and polite ‘Hello’ with a slight smile and a wave.

London, truthfully, was the last place I expected to stay. It was too close to old roots. Somehow, I found myself liking their quaint little way of speaking and odd customs. I first arrived a little after I turned eighteen. At first, I knew very little about anything and quickly learned by attending night school and spending a lot of research time in libraries. During the day, I had procured myself an interesting little job as a coffee house waiter. Working was a bit unnecessary but it turned out to be a great way to meet other people, talk to others my own age and adopt the accent. I soon made up my mind to go into law seeing as how the idea of arguing with others and bossing people about appealed greatly to me. Soon after, I entered a Muggle University and studied rather hard to pass several tests. Many have said to me that I am a bit young for a corporate lawyer. I, on the other hand, was quite proud of myself. I finished my classes earlier than most and graduated with honors.

Presently, I had been in practice for only a little more than half a year. I worked for a rather large firm named Townsend and Finch. Though I had left the wizard world, I was very well aware of the wizards that walked amongst other people. There was even one working in the firm. They acted as normally as anyone else and managed to integrate themselves very well in Muggle society. One of my initial fears about living in London was that I might bump into someone I didn’t want to bump into. However, after living here as long as I have, I still haven’t met anyone that I knew before. My high school days at Hogwarts were almost distant memories. The only connection I still felt I had with the wizard world came from still owning my wand and never forgetting to look over my spells and peering into old school books whenever the need to brush up arose. Regardless, I never practiced magic much anymore. Simple spells I couldn’t seem to stop doing, out of habit, I kept doing. However, if not needed, I didn’t use it.

Aside from all that, my life, for once, was actually normal. Impossibly, I had even grown to like it. Which, to me anyway, was highly unusual.

The drive downtown was quick and without problems. I lived close enough to downtown London that is wasn’t a problem getting to work even with light morning traffic. In truth, these odd, mundane moments: sitting in traffic, having afternoon tea, chatting with co-workers and others things, actually cumulated to make my life something somewhat enjoyable. It was almost sickening really. Leaning forward, I pressed my forehead to the hands set atop of my steering and sigh. Then again, sitting around and dodling in traffic was rather dull.

~!@!~

I made it to work surprisingly early, even after having suffered in traffic for nearly twenty minutes. Most would say that twenty minutes isn’t anything to be a wet rag about. I tend to disagree. I park and make my way to the west wing entrance. It’s more out of the way than the main entrance and since I am not inclined in the least to go thru the front and get my desirable person molested by the bunch of old parrots we all like to call the Administrative Department. I take the shortcut. I climb a few stairs and get onto the main floor without getting spotted. Thankfully, others are still arriving and I have a chance to slip into my office and hide before I get ambushed.

Shutting the heavy oak door behind myself, I sigh and drop my leather coat into one of the cramped chairs positioned in front of my desk. Walking over to the windows, I pull the large wooden blinds aside and bask momentarily in the faint stream of sunlight that decides to stream in. The sun hasn’t fully risen yet. Sitting at my desk, I open up my personal laptop and set about reviewing and putting finishing touches on my report. I was to present it later this morning.

A faint knock sounds at the door not more then a few minutes into my steady work, and I look up briefly before turning back to the screen, “Enter…”

The door creaks open and shuts and there are steady footsteps coming towards me. Looking up, I spot Margery absently rearranging pens on the end of my desk and holding a mug of what I hope is coffee for me in the other. I pause and study her for a moment. Margery is the other wizard I work with. She’s short, or rather, much shorter than I am, and has short brown hair and large, owl like hazel eyes. She’s a little round, but really a rather cute woman. She’s a reliable work partner and quite a nice friend to invite out for lunch; she makes good conversation and unlike myself, has family and friends in the wizarding world and keeps track of events and news.

I look down at the screen again and start to type, “Good morning, Margery”

I hear a few pens clatter to the floor. Margery is also rather clumsy.

“Err…pardon, I brought you coffee, sir”

I grin at the formality, “Thank you Margery”

She pauses before setting the mug down in my field of vision. Absently, I reach over and take a sip.

Margery still hasn’t left and I stop long enough to look up at her. She is twisting her hands in obvious discomfort and that is all it takes to get my attention. Margery has never been so uneasy with me before.

Sitting up, I take my mug of coffee fully into my hands, “What is it then, Margery?”

She blinks as though she didn’t hear me correctly but quickly seats herself and leans forward, whispering confidentially, “You know Travis? From the West wing department?”

Curious as to why she look so panicked, I nod. I do know him. Travis Maxwell is an arrogant bloke with about as many manners as a mountain troll. He doesn’t respect anyone and has a secret history among us common workers for being a notorious womanizer and is know for his dirty habit of sexually harassing others around him. Everything about him was distasteful in my personal and professional opinion.

He’s a bit of a git if you must know…

I nodded again and Margery looked down and away, her face growing hot, “He’s…I…well, I was wondering what you would do if someone was causing you problems…and, err…were in a right mess…what’d you’d do, I spose…”

She trailed of into silence when I held up a hand and scowled, “He’s been bothering you has he?”

She nodded meekly. I was a force to reckon with when I was angry. Saving my changes on the computer, I smoothly drink half my warm coffee and stand. Margery looks relieved. I smile reassuringly at her and motion toward the door, “I will pay Travis a quick morning visit and you, Margery dear, will go on with your business”

Margery smiled again and nodded, “Thank you”

I shrug, “You’re my secretary, I’m the only person allowed to pick on you”

Margery laughs and I’m glad. Normally, Margery would never have told me. When I first met her, she was in an abusive relationship with a rather nasty gentleman. I lost my temper after seeing her come to work one morning with an eye nearly black it was so badly bruised. It was bad enough that he disrespected her, but beat her too? Needless to say, I did something about it.

Making my way out of the office and making sure Margery had started on some faxes I needed done, I made my way to the west wing intent on teaching someone a lesson.

~!@!~

I greeted a few people on my way to the West wing and was glad that I didn’t have to beat anyone off with a stick. I wasn’t in the mood and I was most definitely on a mission.

Finding Travis was surprisingly easy. The man was a flake who usually spent the majority of mornings wasting time in the coffee room. I was amazed that this morning, he had forgone the chittering in favor of sitting behind his desk and making an effort at looking like he was actually working.

Travis wasn’t unattractive. Quite the opposite really. Tall, blond, blue eyed, foreign and one of the boss’ associate’s sons. His father was
American and rumor had it that his mother was a famous French actress, though no one knows who she was. His looks aren’t the problem however; it’s more along the lines of his attitude.

Walking casually into his office, I shut the door quietly behind myself and lean up against it comfortably. Travis looks up, startled and smiles easily when he sees me. That smile is deceptively sweet. Almost like poison on a cupcake. Completely at ease, I smile back sincerely. He has no idea who he’s fucking with.

Travis leans back in his chair and is the picture of the productive worker at rest, “So, Draco, was it? What brings you to my side of the world?”

I sigh inwardly and only shake my head and keep smiling outwardly. Pushing off the door, I walk forward and sink into one of the expensive chairs in front of his desk. His office is a nice as mine is but the only the differences come from the fact that I worked for mine, and the position you have to have to get it. Travis had it because his father figured he’d make a lovely addition to the drab, if not conservative, decorum of the office itself.

I leaned back comfortably and looked over his shoulder and out the window, “You…know Margery, I assume? That secretary in the East wing?”

Travis doesn’t seem fazed when I get to that point, “I do. Is there a problem?”

I turn icy blue eyes on him and pin him with my most murderous look, “There is a problem and you bloody well know what it is, so don’t fuck about with me”
My voice was deceptively calm and cold, the opposite of the inner me that only wanted to curse him… shrink his balls or something equally fitting.

Travis pales, baby blue eyes looking away and concentrating on anything but the menacing presence I must suddenly have turned into, “I see…she’s yours?”

I think I could not have stopped myself from losing my temper if I had tried. I sat up slowly, the words leaving my mouth feeling like poison I only wished I could kill him with, “Margery is a bloody woman not a blasted possession! And if you ever dare harass her again, I’m afraid I won’t just be yelling at you next time I have to come over here and rattle your fucking cage!”

My mini rant over, I sat back and waited for a response or possible rebuttal. None were forthcoming. Immensely pleased, I stood and smiled pleasantly, “We understand each other perfectly then?”

Travis nodded slowly, his eyes conveying something I was surprised to see. Admiration…or even something slightly more disturbing…such as interest. Finished as I was, I turned away quickly and stood. I didn’t care what Travis thought of me, but I had to admit, the look he was giving me made more than a few decidedly odd thoughts pop into my mind. Annoyed, I walked towards the door, opened it and was nearly off and away when Travis’ voice floated softly to me, “I apologize and I won’t do it again…but would you, uh, consider having lunch with me?”

I turn to look at him coolly, trying to judge just by his facial expression what he really wanted from me. People like him only used people like me. It wouldn’t do to fall into any kind of trap that Travis might have set out for me. It surprised me to note that there seemed to be only mild trepidation in his expression. Nothing more. Sighing, I shrug lightly, “We’ll see. Come by and if I’m there then it’s fine…”

On that note, I really was off and away.

~!@!~

Noon came quickly, which rather surprised me. My presentation had been done and most of my earlier work was completed. I had sent Margery off with her friends for an early lunch and had stayed behind to try and tidy up some of my old case files and check out a few new assignments. Habitually, I work with the door closed. Simply put, I like to be in a position of power. Unlike most offices, I had changed the initial positioning of my desk so that it completely faced the door though I lost the common advantage of sunlight. That way, I could always see who was coming in. The closed door was something that also added to my preferred ambiance. Whoever came to visit almost always knocked before entering, which also helped alert me to the presence of someone entering my office which served it’s purpose when I was too engrossed in work to look up.

I have met insolent people in my lifetime, I myself being one of them, but I was beginning to think that Travis might just be cheekier that I am. He neither knocked, nor announced his presence. He simply entered. I noticed that he had also somewhat recovered his wits. He no longer looked as intimidated as he had back in his office and carried himself in his usual arrogant manner. I was beginning to realize that we where just a tad bit too much alike for my liking. I mean, I wasn’t a certified pervert, but I did on occasion strut when circumstances allowed for it. Travis was strutting, however, I wasn’t sure if the occasion called for it or if he just felt like it.

I frown, but smile amusedly: He can be quite the jackass, this one…

He leaned on my desk and peered over the computer screen to get a look at what I was typing. I smirked; two can play at this game. I reach up and half pull the screen down while looking up at him expectantly, “Yes?”

Travis smirks, “Lunch. You. Me. Let’s go.”

I pretend to consider it for a moment, almost as if I had forgotten. Travis leans away but looks at me expectantly. I shrug to myself. I can’t very well say no, I mean I had told him that if he caught me, I would go. Besides, I needed to go take lunch with someone because if it was up to me, I often skipped the meal time altogether and had to listen to Margery bitch and moan about how skinny I was and how I couldn’t possibly live to be thirty if I continued to burn energy the way I did without eating.

Shutting my laptop after saving, I sit up and grab my coat, “Fine. Lead the way Mr. Maxwell”

~!@!~

He chose a little pub not far from our workplace, which suited me fine since I was rather fond of alcohol though I shouldn’t be, and did fancy having a drink. Due to my father and his naturally expensive tastes, I acquired a rather refined taste for certain strong drinks. Besides, a stiff drink always helped me stay awake longer.

We seated ourselves close to the front of the pub, near the windows and have a clear view of the street out in front. Since Travis had been here before, and I really didn’t have any particular interest in pouring over the long menu, I let him order for both of us. Our jackets were taken from us at the door and I missed the warmth of the leather. It was a bit cool in here.

Travis, either oblivious to the chill or too busy starring at me from across the table, didn’t seem the least bit perturbed by the temperature in here. Well, all this was to be expected. November is never a warm month and the fact that we still had rain every few days in London didn’t help. I just hoped that, unlike the year before, we didn’t get any hail. My last car hadn’t fared well in hail and I doubted that my new BMW would do any better. I wasn’t a native Londoner, though I had been living here for a while already. I suppose that new environments always take some getting used to.

Travis looked as though he wanted to ask me something. But our waitress, a small woman in her late thirties with a kind smile and bright eyes, set our plates down in front of us. Never one to waste time, I dug right in. I haven’t even been fond of sweet potatoes but eating them now, I can’t ever imagine why. The food was good and I was warm and full not too long afterwards. Travis and I spoke little, or at least he attempted conversation and I was too busy dissecting everything he said to answer properly.

I was a little pissed off that I couldn’t discern the motive behind the seemingly simple chatting and was slowly coming to the realization that there wasn’t some strange ulterior reason for Travis having invited me out for lunch. Of course there was something, but at least it wasn’t as evil as I thought is might be.

Looking up, suddenly curious, I sipped my Brown Cow, “Why’d you ask me out, Mr. Maxwell?”

Travis stuttered to a stop. He’d been babbling about a party he’d been to last night. He blinked at me and a slow and rather mild blush crept across his cheeks. I raised and inquisitive eyebrow and took another sip of my drink, “Hmm?”

Travis laughed lightly, “No one ever calls me Mr. Maxwell. I’m not used to it since that’s my father’s title…. but uh, I asked you out because…I just wanted to…”

I thoughtfully looked out the window and absently tapped the index finger of my right hand against the bridge of my nose, “Wanted to? That’s a simple enough reason but is that all…Travis?”

Travis really truly seemed in over his head. Taking pity, which, as I’ve mentioned before, was another bad habit I had developed along with compassion and kindness, I changed the subject and steered the conversation back into his party adventures of the night before.

Too bad. I’d have to wait before I got the answers I wanted.

~!@!~

The afternoon was much more calm then the morning had been. I had a bit of work to hand in for Monday but I had no intention of staying in the office late. I dumped all I needed into a briefcase I left in the office for occasions just like these and was out and on my way home around seven. The traffic was light enough that I got home in half the time it usually took me and waved to Mr. Thompson before parking and heading up.

The first odd thing I noticed was that there seemed to be lights on in the flat. Which was actually odd considering that the only ‘person’ in there is Elizabetha. Bothered, I dig my key out of my pocket and open the door cautiously. The second oddest thing hits me the moment I open the door a crack. It’s the unmistakable sound of fluttering wings, hissing, and the instantly recognizable sound of furniture crashing and breaking. Nonplussed, I hurry inside and shut the door. The third odd thing that I notice is that there are feathers littering the floor. White feathers. Surprised, I headed into the living room, the largest room in the flat and starred wide eyed at the spectacle before me.

The entire room was a mess. Throw pillows littered the floor, lamps were knocked over, couches were covered in feathers and cat hair and in the center of it all was a large, snowy white owl flying this way and that, earnestly trying to avoid Elizabetha’s claws and ultimately, her wrath. I would have known that owl anywhere. No matter how many years it had been since I’d last seen her owner, I knew it was Hedgewing.

Suddenly capable of logical thought again, I caught a furious Eliza in my arms and set her aside, restraining her slightly so that Hedgewing could safely land. The large owl blinked at me, cooing softly and extended a leg graciously towards me. Obliging her, I untied the rather hefty letter attached to her and tucked it under my arm. Next to me Elizabetha rumbled in silent fury.

I smile weakly at Hedgewing, “Long time no see”

The owl, as intelligent as those eyes marked her, seemed to nod at me. Making another quick decision, I hefted Eliza into my arms and shut her in the bedroom. I could hear her indignant hissing all the way back into the living room. I tentatively extended a leather-clad arm to Hedgewing and she instantly hopped on. She was heavy, but nothing I couldn’t handle easily. I walked into the kitchen with her and set her onto one of the hanging rods I had for the pans. She balanced perfectly on the wood and settled down quickly. I smiled slightly and set about looking for something to feed her with, all the while wondering if the person to whom this owl belonged had really sent me a letter.

I left her a plate with water and some slices of apple. She peered at them a moment before fluttering down onto the counter. She cooed happily and settled down to eat. Leaving her there after hesitantly petting her soft feathers, I made my way back into my nearly destroyed living room. Shrugging off my leather coat and slinging it casually over the arm of the couch, I sat down heavily and starred at the crisp, brown wrapping paper.

If this letter really was from Harry, then one really had to wonder what it must all mean. It’s been years since I last saw hide or hair of the Boy-Who-Bloody-Lived and it was only now that he returned to my thoughts. I sat there, momentarily reminiscing, and gazing thoughtfully at the letter. Shock aside; the more juvenile Draco scowled at the letter and almost, childishly, refused to want to open it. After all, Harry and I had only been eternal rivals and day-to-day irritations to each other, nothing more and nothing less. We had only argued, never seeming to have had a normal conversation, and had never reached a consensus or common ground on any topic. At that time, I realize that I had been endlessly angry, always troubled, and acted tough to cover up my lack of affection from parents who were too demanding. Harry himself had struggled with fitting in, accepting who he was and who everyone else wanted him to be, and the lack of parental presence that had befallen him.

I realized that maybe we had been much more alike than I thought. People dictated our lives and we were destined, according to prophecies and stuff old dead blokes said, to do great things for our respective sides.

I had run away from that and left it all behind when I had come here. The only thing I still respected was my father’s family name, which I had kept, and the fortune that was behind that very name. Everything else, I had abandoned. I didn’t want to ever have magic take a present role in my life ever again.

I starred down at the letter and decided that there would be no harm in reading it. If it was from Harry there wasn’t likely to be anything offensive.

Having reached a decision, I opened it and unfolded the six pieces of paper, marveling at the length and the nice curvy writing that seemed to be Harry’s before beginning to read:


Dear Draco,

You’re probably surprised that I sent you a letter. You will be even more surprised to find out that it has taken me ages to send Hedgewing out to get this to you. Everyone around here treats me like I’m made of bloody glass; I’m not allowed to do anything. Anyway, I wanted to hear from you. You’ve been gone now more then four years. I wanted to know why, from you, the reason for leaving.

Hermione says that you must be having the time of your life, staying out there; says you’re ‘expanding’ your horizon. Ron’s opinion is rather biased. He likes to say you ran away to escape being questioned and so on. Says people were looking for you after your father’s initial disappearance. I think that you just wanted to leave. I feel like that all the time now. Do you remember when you used to tease me about being The-Boy-Who-Lived? It’s funny, because years later, because of that title, they want me to do so many things. I have to attend all sorts of boring dinners and meet with a bunch of pompous wizard all the time. Besides all that, all everyone ever wants to hear about is how I killed Voldermort.

It still doesn’t feel like something I did. I listen to people endlessly retell my story and it still only feels like a distant, nostalgic memory. I didn’t kill him because I wanted to. I killed him because everyone dictated it the right thing to do. I’ve been kept busy with all sorts of stupid activities and no one seems to notice just how sick of it all I’m growing.

That aside, I haven’t had a chance to change much. I must say that I probably have gotten rather stubborn, if I wasn’t already. I argue so much with everyone that it’s a wonder they still want to keep me about. I can honestly say that I’ve done everything I could think of to piss them all off enough for them to send me into exile but nothing has worked so far. I bet if you were in this situation you’d figure out a way.

I snuck out almost a year ago to visit your old house. I hadn’t ever been there and I have to say that even when people used to tell me you had money, I still was really amazed at the size of your house. Do you remember that grumpy old house-elf that has been in your family forever? He’s still there. He was rather ill tempered and refused to tell me if he knew where you were. I get the distinct impression that he doesn’t have a clue but hates being teased about being a stuffy elf that wouldn’t know how to find you if you were only out in the garden. Needless to say, he wasn’t pleased with me after I told him so. I was immediately, thereafter, chased off the property. Did you know he could swear like that? Somebody in your family should get their mouth washed out. Really. Those curses were a bit too much; he probably learned them from someone in your house.

Eventually, I started to understand that you probably weren’t anywhere in the Wizard world. This surprised me since you were the type always saying-insulting things about Muggles and half-Muggles. It’s a bit humbling to see you get over that and got off to live in the ‘real’ world. I can honestly say that I envy you. I was curious about what you might have been getting up to. Logically, you would have had to get yourself a place and probably a job but being who you are, I figure that you’d become something interesting. Speaking of which, have you married or anything? That’s something else that is driving me up the wall. I forgot to tell you that Ron and Hermione have tied the knot off which each other and keep insisting that I find myself a nice girl and get married. Have kids and the whole lot. Would you believe that those two already have three kids? I’m sure it’s Ron’s fault. He comes from a big family and wants to have a big one too, now that he can. How would you feel if there were three little monsters (well, they aren’t that bad) running about in your office and calling you ‘Uncle Harry’? Somehow, that makes me feel rather old. I think that twenty three and a half isn’t really old per say.

Back to my question though. Have you married? I would think that you’d be married to some posh diva whose parents were as rich as your own. She’d be obnoxious and haughty. Probably really pretty but rather rude as well. Sorry if that sounds a bit foul but I always figured that you’d never get married to anyone who wasn’t…how to put this? In the same class as yourself, I suppose… Also, I really can’t imagine a Mrs. Malfoy anyway…
I haven’t married and if Ron and Hermione’s marriage is a good example, then I’ll run from it for as long as I can. Not because I wouldn’t want to, but more because the way things are going, I won’t even get to choose someone for myself. Besides, I have someone in mind but I need to get together with that person first and figure a few things out…

Really, I wanted to write you to ask if you’d come visit. I know it’s a bit sudden in a sense but I miss you. You’re probably laughing already but I’m serious. No one around here wants to argue with me. All they ever do is treat me like royalty and keep me where they can watch me. It got dull around here after you decided to save yourself. I hate getting my way all the time. Simply put, it makes life rather boring. Honestly, I’d have come looking for you myself if it weren’t for the fact that, even as I am writing you this letter, I have been magically confined to my bed.

Now I know you must be laughing. In any case, since they confined me to bed, I can still write and they left the window open, so this will be my only chance. This letter’s probably a week or two old from the time that I sent it originally because I had Hedge deliver to a few to other people as well.
If you took the time to read this than please also take the time to answer, even if it’s just to be rude. I’m really and truly dying over here. I packed a few things into the letter, mostly to help you over if you decide to come. I rather wish you would take this seriously and get over here. I won’t hold it against you if you don’t want to but it would just be…nice, really.
Yours, Harry.


I stared at the letter a moment longer before setting the whole thing down. To me it sounded as if Harry was having a rather good life. Wasn’t this what he wanted? People fawned over him and chased him about. He wasn’t ever alone anymore and he didn’t have to live with his Aunt and Uncle after he turned eighteen. Yet, even after I had re-read the letter for the third time, I realized that it wasn’t the case.

I was a bit stunned still. I mean, Harry wrote to me and ask me to come visit. This was the kind of letter that you send to a long-distance friend that you’d known all your life. The letter was so…friendly. He spoke frankly and voiced his irritations and opinions to me the way he would to a good friend even though we had been rivals for the entirety of our high school lives. He still spoke amicably to me and honestly expected me to either visit or send him a reply. Slightly confused, I decided to check the rest of the letter for the objects that Harry had mentioned sending for me to come.

The first object was a leather bound book. I opened it carefully, mindful of the fact that it was a nice object that deserved to be handled with care. Inside the first page was a small card. It simply read: ‘ Thought you’d like this for some odd reason’. Blinking, I looked over the book again. It was rather nice. The next object was an odd clay figurine. The second I touched I realized that it was a Portkey. The magic in the object flared against my fingertips and I gasped softly, instantly remembering the feeling that accompanied the casting of magic. Putting it aside quickly, I picked up the next objects. They were two tickets for some kind of train. Two tickets?

Oh, Harry assumed that I might come with someone. Grinning, I wondered if Elizabetha counted. The next thing was a knitted scarf. It was long and multicolored. I raised my eyebrow questioningly at it before spotting the small tag attached to it: ‘It’s winter over here, so you might get a little cold’. I set the frightening scarf aside and picked up the next thing. It was small handbag. Peering at it, I realized that it was also a magically created item. Opening it, I saw nothing but endless dark. There was another small tag attached to it: ‘It’s bottomless. Rather useful for traveling. I thought you might prefer to have this then the twenty pieces of luggage your guaranteed to pack’.

At the very bottom of the bag was a small watch. The watch itself looked more like a bell than it did a watch and it didn’t seem to actually be for telling time. The straps were transparent and the whole ensemble was light. Snapping it on experimentally, I watched at it glowed faintly once and returned to normal. The tag for that one was still at the bottom of the bag and I fished it out: ‘It doesn’t tell time, but rather something more interesting. I’ll let you figure out what exactly’

Shrugging, I tried to take the watch off and frowned when it wouldn’t. I look back at the note in time to see the small letters rearrange themselves as an alternate message popped up: ‘Ps, it doesn’t come off that easily, but I trust you’ll figure that out for yourself as well, Harry’

I shook my head. I should have known. Seemed that Harry had gotten rather bratty. Sleepily, I tucked everything back into the envelope before going to check on Hedgewing. Peering into the kitchen, I saw her perched on the rod, seemingly comfortable. She turned her large white head in my direction and cooed once, softly and settled down fully. I whispered a quiet goodnight and made my way to my room. I was beginning to think that I had gotten too soft over the years. Where was my Slytherin cunning or my Malfoy pride? The truth was that although I hadn’t lost them; I just didn’t feel the need to sink my teeth into people much anymore. I just wasn’t as bratty anymore.

Reaching my door, I opened it cautiously and saw Eliza curled up on the bed and changed out of my suit before sliding into bed. Lying on my back, I absently rubbed Elizabetha’s warm body as I contemplated the idea of going on vacation for the first time since I had started my new job, putting lost of impending projects on hold, and generally re-adopting my wizard way of life, if only for a little while, all for the sake of going to visit one Harry Potter. Did I dare?

Smirking into my pillow, I thought the answer was clear. Of course I did. Besides, who would pass up a chance to go torture Harry and his little gang for a week or two, which would provide excellent stress relief, I was sure. I guess I was going to have some packing to do. Rolling over fully, I fall asleep soon after.

~!@!~

End of Chapter One.

Ebra: So? How was it? Should I quit while I’m ahead or what? Oh and just before people tell me that Harry’s owl isn’t named Hedgewing, I’ll just say that I like that name better then the real thing (Hedwig). Aside from that, could everyone tell me how I did? *Grins sheepishly*