Restoration

44

Five years after the Battle of Hogwarts

*

October, 2003

Secret location, somewhere in Scotland

*

A dark and cold autumn evening settled in the tiny town that didn't have more than 50 inhabitants. Although connected with a regular bus line to a bigger city, the town rarely saw any visitors, let alone tourists. Most of the young population had moved out as soon as they could, leaving their elderly parents behind. And in a town so small, everyone knew everyone. They could walk through the main street blindly and still know where to turn to enter the bakery (mostly because of the tempting smells).

And when an older gentleman Luciano Drago moved into a tiny house at the end of the street, no one batted an eye. They welcomed him with open arms, and was it for his kind smile or perhaps the charm he cast on all of them, they would all claim that Luciano had always lived in this town. Except for the fact that he hadn't even heard of the town up until five years ago.

How he spent his days was somewhat of a mystery for his neighbors, but as they saw him leave early morning to go to the lake, they all assumed he had a passion for fishing and nature. It took him years before he accepted an invite and entered one of his neighbor's houses for dinner. He practiced his story back-to-back for three days straight before going, and he didn't properly relax until the neighbors stopped asking him questions.

He quietly came up with an excuse later in the night, blaming his old age for his odd sleeping patterns, and as he was surrounded by other pensioners, they all laughed and nodded in understanding.

And only once he locked his front doors, checked twice if his protection spell had been breached or tampered with, Luciano's poor posture and seemingly weak knees grew to a much taller state. His grey hair turned into that signature white blonde color, the wrinkles around his eyes disappeared almost in full, and his skin now tightened around his muscles.

Sitting next to the fireplace, with a glass of whisky in his hand, Draco Malfoy finally exhaled all of his worries.

The flames began to dance in a sequenced pattern, changing the color ever so slightly, but he didn't even bat his eye. Instead, he grabbed another glass and poured some whisky, leaving it on the glass coffee table.

A moment later the fire split open and Draco overheard the familiar voice saying his goodbyes to coworkers, and a moment later a cloaked man walked into his living room.

"How was the party?" Blaise Zabini greeted him, upon noticing the jumper that just screamed retired-grandpa-who-occasionally-knits.

"Brilliant. You missed out," Draco replied absently, still staring at the parting flames.

"Now that would raise some suspicion if a handsome, young wizard crashed a pensioner's party," Blaise took off his standard-issued Ministry of Magic coat, and with a snap of his fingers, it floated to the coat hanger. He studied Draco's face for a moment, trying to figure out if his roommate had had a somewhat good day behind him.