Dilectio is Latin for Spiritual Love
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A recent graduate of Ilvermorny, you've made the trek across the pond from your home in America to London. You find yourself hiding under the radar from the Ministry of Magic working as a barista at a coff...
Draco Malfoy relocated to London after the Second Wizarding War, working at the Ministry of Magic with Blaise Zabini for the last two years. Blaise wouldn't shut up about some girl at a coffee shop for weeks; why he is wasting time and money at a Muggle coffee shop is beyond Draco. He prefers his coffee made with magic and served by house-elves. Truthfully speaking, he doesn't even like coffee.
A bloody Muggle, Draco thinks to himself after Blaise tells him about his latest conquest. With all the available witches in London, Blaise just has to fuck a Muggle.
"No, I won't come to that damn place with you, so stop asking me," Draco tells Blaise for the tenth time this week.
"Come on, trust me when I say it will be worth it," says Blaise with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.
"I don't want to see that damn Muggle you keep going on about, and I'm sure she is nothing but ordinary."
"Fine by me, but really, it's worth it," Blaise responds with a wink.
"I'm sure it's not, but since you asked so nicely, I wouldn't mind a coffee."
Blaise rolls his eyes and chuckles, but Draco knows that when he returns from his meeting, a cup will be on his desk waiting for him.
Sure enough, when he returns, a red Costa cup is sitting on his desk. Draco smirks at the cup; really, it's just another chain.
Long after everyone went home, Draco was finally wrapping up his day and started to head home. Even after leaving Scotland and relocating to London, Draco is still set in his pureblood ways, or so he tells himself. It's an internal struggle every day for him. He and his parents were spared from the horrors of Azkaban due to Lucius spilling secrets about the remaining Death Eaters after the Battle of Hogwarts. Draco is still tormented with nightmares from his teenage years. The atrocity and horrors plague him still.
I have to do this. I have to kill you—one of the few wizards in his life who showed him kindness. The torture and torment at the Manor always come flooding back to him when he shuts his eyes at night.
Draco tries to get some sleep, but sleep hasn't come easy to him as of late. While most would chalk it up to the stress of his positions, Draco is well aware that rest will be far and few between in the leading months, just as it has been in the last few years.
------the next morning
*buzz buzz* Draco's phone vibrates during his first meeting of the day.
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Draco continues his workday; when he glances at the clock, it's 12:45 pm, and after a minute or so, he grabs his coat and heads out the building. Bloody hell, let's see what all the fuss is about.
"Finally, taking me up on my offer, I see." Blaise is shocked to see Draco walking across the street to him. His usual attire, black button-down, black blazer, and black slacks.
