Tainted Love

American Ambassadors

DRACO

The slats on the park bench were digging into Draco's legs, but Iris was comfortable so he didn't say anything. She was taking her time eating, the way she always did. He'd be finished with his meal and look over to see that she had barely made it through her appetizer.

Maybe she was savoring the food more than him, or maybe she just got full easily. The likeliest possibility was that she got too distracted by conversations and observations to eat. She would launch into a story or regale him with questions and forget she had food in front of her at all.

He was in a good mood lately, so he found it endearing.

They had been venturing into muggle London more. Diagon was a worldly place, beautiful and thriving and a lot bigger than it seemed, but Iris had lived there for over nine months now and she had seen it all.

Besides, watching the muggles walk around was interesting. They pushed strollers and rode little two-wheeled things that Iris called "bikes." They had phones on them, little hunks of metal that they commanded with the same grace Draco used to command his magic.

They didn't have any magic so they made their own. Draco supposed they didn't understand what they were missing out on, but he thought if he was a muggle he would've been jaded all the same.

Iris wouldn't be. She'd be happy to be alive in any sense of the word.

Sometimes Draco would spot a wizard in the crowd. They were easy to find when you knew what you were looking for. Wide eyes, surveying the people picnicking like they were a herd of rare animals. Probably overdressed, or just dressed extremely strangely.

Today, though, they were in wizarding territory, just off Diagon. Iris was taking a long lunch break to come see him before he went to Eastwood to sign the final papers. He was really buying it, that house. His house.

The Prophet hadn't reported on it yet, which either meant that they didn't know or that they didn't care. He hoped it was the latter but assumed it was the former.

"I'm happy for you," Iris said. There was no real weight to her words but Draco felt it anyways.

He nodded even though he couldn't see her. "Yeah. I think it'll be good."

"It will be," she assured, raising her face from her food.

Going on in public used to be a chore, a faux pas. Whenever he stepped out of his apartment, he was subjecting himself to all manner of abuses. He was letting the public see him, demystifying himself. It was easier to be a mythic form of evil than a tangible, everyday one.

Not evil. He was better, not because he had grown out of the Mark but because he had grown despite it.

He didn't mind going out in public much anymore, especially when Iris was around him. She exuded something that even the Prophet wasn't capable of criticizing.

"You finishing that?" He gestured at her food.

Iris stared at it for a second then shook her head. "I only have ten minutes before I need to be back inside. Daisy wouldn't report me or anything, but she'd definitely comment on it."

Draco's replacement was definitely a Ravenclaw in her Hogwarts days. She had a rule-following, by-the-book streak that Iris often complained about. Never missed a deadline in her life and never met a problem she couldn't solve with copious research and logic.

Iris didn't like missing deadlines either, but she jumped into problems with cauldrons and ingredients and pouring unknown substances onto her bare skin. She was always itching to do something.