[Serenata] ghosts that we knew {Draco}

Long arms stretched towards the ceiling, intertwining as the nineteen-year-old they were attached to leaned back in her chair to crack her back. The Department of Magical Games and Sports had been terribly slow thus far today, for reasons unknown to the Slytherin alumna. There was literally nothing for Emma to do: she had already completed everything her boss requested and had even done some extra preparation for next week’s meeting, so she kept herself busy by cleaning and re-organizing her workspace and decorating the office calendar. Maybe the afternoon would bring some activity… perhaps a hot-off-the-press interview with Gwenog Jones that would need to be followed up with, or maybe she’d be allowed to release more information about the next World Cup venue.

But now it was time for her lunch break! The brunette had been snacking almost constantly all morning, though, so she wasn’t all that hungry (for once): she was, however, really in the mood for tea. The steel-gray skies and blustery weather of winter made her endlessly crave the stuff, and the worse the weather got the more she wanted it. So a trip to Serenata, it was.
Shrugging on her jacket, she made her way through the shared office space and to the lift, winding her scarf around her neck as she walked. Emma had been allowed to “dress down” for the day because her schedule was, for once, free of meetings; in any case, the brunette normally didn’t really bother with anything other than robes but, feeling more adventurous today, she decided to go with a pink-and-gray-themed ensemble. Pink wasn’t normally her color, but this particular peacoat and scarf had caught her eye so she had made an exception.

Stepping outside of the Ministry doors and into the weak January sunlight, she was greeted by a blast of frigid wind. A light snow had begun to fall, and the brunette shivered as she drew her peacoat closer to her body. Thankfully, Serenata wasn’t far… it also helped that she had long legs and walked much more quickly than the average person; nevertheless, she could feel her cheeks and nose going red from the cold after only a few minutes. The witch let out a sigh of relief when a rush of warm air greeted her as soon as she crossed Serenata’s threshold. She could already feel the comfort of frozen fingers wrapped around a mug of steaming tea…

Cerulean blue eyes widened slightly in surprise as they took a cursory glance around the shop: it was packed! There wasn’t an empty table – or even a single chair or stool – to be found on the first floor. Her heeled boots click-clacked softly on the linoleum entryway and then she was weaving through chatting patrons, making her way towards the staircase leading to the second floor. Maybe she’d have better luck up there… plus, she preferred comfy armchairs to regular chairs any day. The shop was one of her favorites in London, from the cozy setup to the relaxing music that played at almost all hours of the day; Emma was no musician, but she could certainly appreciate the art of it.

To her disappointment, the second floor was just as crowded as the first. She was about ready to just head back to work when she spotted a single open chair in the far corner of the room, drawn up to a table with only one other occupant – a man with blonde hair.
Emma nibbled her lower lip. She hated to intrude, but it certainly couldn’t hurt to ask. Maybe she’d make a new friend. As she moved closer, she noticed that the man’s hair was more platinum blonde than a golden-blonde, which gave the witch enough pause that she had to double-take. That hair color and style looked awfully familiar…
Casually, the brunette drifted to the edge of the room under the guise of admiring the artwork on the walls, sneaking covert glances at the man in the corner. She managed to get a good look at his face, and her suspicions were confirmed. Despite the fact that they had been Housemates, Emma had never really liked Draco Malfoy, and this sentiment was only reinforced – even amplified – after she joined the DA and he teamed up with Umbridge in their Fifth Year.
She almost turned around and walked out of the shop right then and there – but something stopped her. For one, he was alone. She couldn’t remember Malfoy ever being alone. But, she reminded herself as she absently watched a herd of horses galloping across one of the canvases, things are very different now… the War changed a lot. So many people had lost so much; as much as she didn’t want to admit it, Emma knew that Malfoy had been one of those people. And as much as she didn’t like him while they were in school, the brunette had a hard time believing that he had voluntarily participated in You-Know— Voldemort’s plans. It was essentially common knowledge now that Lucius Malfoy was a complete slimeball… but, in all honesty, it really wasn’t right to lump Draco in with the rest of his family merely by association. She knew it, but the stubborn streak in her didn’t want to acknowledge it.
But they were almost twenty years old and nearly two years out of school, for Merlin’s sake. If they couldn’t behave like adults now, well, then there was a real problem.

The brunette let out her breath in a whoosh and rocked back on her heels. She knew the mature thing to do would be to go over and say hello, to put the past behind them and endeavor to start fresh. Or, at the very least, just be civil with each other. After one more clandestine glance in his direction, Emma made her decision.
Well… here goes nothing.
Without warning, her pulse quickened and her palms began to tingle. Why was she suddenly anxious? Sure, she didn’t want to make a poor impression and she’d never been the best at the whole breaking-the-ice thing, but that hardly seemed to be a reasonable response for someone she already knew; albeit not well, but with whom she had shared a Common Room for seven years.
Would he really even recognize her, though? That might be awkward. Or it could make things easier. The pair had exchanged maybe a dozen words, and most (if not all) of them had been a snide remark from him…
Thankful for the cold weather and the warmth of the shop to account for the flush in her cheeks, Emma dismissed her figurative cold feet and weaved her way towards her former classmate.

“Hey,” she greeted pleasantly as she approached, resting a hand on the back of the empty chair across from him. “D’you… mind if I join you?”
She had almost added ‘Everywhere else is taken,’ but bit back the words. It was a harmless enough comment, and it was true, but the former Slytherin didn’t want him to feel like she was only approaching him because she had no other choice. If she wanted to do this whole “starting fresh” thing right, it would be prudent to choose her words well; for instance, calling him ‘Draco’ instead of the usual ‘Malfoy’ would probably be a step in the right direction. But who knew? Maybe he hated being called ‘Draco’…
Instead, she offered him a friendly smile as she unbuttoned her jacket and pulled off her hat, freeing her brunette tresses and half-heartedly attempting to tame her hat-hair. The warmth of the shop was a welcome refuge from the cold, but under her layers she was beginning to overheat already!

Slowly but surely things were returning to some sort of normal for Draco Malfoy. It had taken almost two full years for anything to feel like it was going anywhere in the right direction. But thanks to his job at Grimli, and his thick skin, the platinum blonde was starting to feel a lot less irritated by the need, or want to go out in public. Sure, people still jeered at him, and were generally nasty from time to time, but it was nowhere near as bad as it had been in the months preceding the war. He’d also learned how to disguise himself a little more than he’d had to do before, so he had been able to afford himself some anonymity that way too. It came in handy when he wanted a place to sit and read or think, with a cup of tea, that wasn’t his flat.

He was still having trouble sleeping, and might have begun to develop a slight reliance on dreamless sleep potions, but that was a world away from where he’d been before. The wizard was turning over the distinct possibility that he was indeed actually becoming on reliant on the stuff when a voice broke him out of his revere. Lifting his chin off of the fist it had been resting on, the man’s slate grey eyes raised to identify the owner of the voice. Emma Hennings, if he was remembering correctly. They had been yearmates, but had never spoken much, except for his own remarks. He eyed her warily. Was she going to start yelling at him like that hag Romilda Vane had? Probably not, he decided, as he took in her friendly demeanor. But Draco never knew what to expect these days, honestly.

She wanted to know if she could join him? That was odd, considering their past relationship. A quick glance around the upper level told him that she’d spied him out because everywhere else was full. He supposed she had at least had the decency not to use that as her only excuse. Blinking up at her slowly the ex- Death eater lifted his other hand from the opposite arm of the chair, and gestured politely “Be my guest..” it took some effort to keep the drawl he still hadn’t gotten rid of from creeping into his words, but even if it had, Draco wouldn’t have felt too bad about it, it had become part of him, and it wasn’t always meant to be condescending. Not to mention the fact that he was rather tired, and didn’t always have the energy to try. He was tired enough that he knew he didn’t really welcome her company, but he also knew there was no point in being impolite, when she seemed to be making an effort.   

Stretching, the ex-Slytherin sat up a little more, and set his book off the side momentarily to take a sip of tea. He considered just going back to reading and leaving a silence hanging between them, not sure whether she wanted to talk or not, but he knew better. Shooting the witch another glance, he spoke “How have you been?” It wasn’t the best start, but it was all he had.

The brunette nibbled her lower lip, uncertain what to expect. She had only just noticed that he had been reading, and as his slate gray gaze met her cerulean blue one Emma felt an unexpected pang of guilt. Generally, sitting alone in the back corner of a tea shop with a book was, essentially, code for “Do Not Disturb” – at least, that’s how Emma felt, because it certainly annoyed her when people tried to make conversation with her while she was clearly trying to read. Part of her felt that she should just apologize for interrupting and offer to leave him alone.
But, once again, something stopped her. She just couldn’t get over the fact that he was alone and – so it seemed, at least, given his table location – trying to be inconspicuous. Maybe where he was sitting had nothing to do with that, though… maybe it was, quite simply, the only open table. Or maybe he just wanted to be alone – she certainly had those days, when the introvert in her needed to re-charge.
But maybe not. Who knew?

He regarded her warily for a moment, and Emma held her breath. Maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe she had been wrong to think he would be amenable to this. The nineteen-year-old braced for a reproachful look or a scathing comment; instead, he replied in what was quite possibly the most amiable tone she’d ever heard him use. Momentarily taken aback, she managed to recover herself quickly enough.

“Thanks,” the brunette replied warmly, shrugging off her jacket and draping it over the back of her chair before shedding her gloves, though leaving her scarf. “S’bloody freezing out there… I can’t feel my face anymore.” She shuddered, settling herself in her chair before rummaging around in her bag for a few letters she had been planning to finish and send, covertly glancing up at him. Should she say something else? If he truly didn’t want to be bothered, she certainly didn’t want to push anything by being a Chatty Cathy… especially considering how pleasantly things were going thus far. If he wanted to chat, she figured, then he would say something.

So she hardly dared to believe it when he actually asked after her. Granted, he probably didn’t care a whit, but it was a refreshingly polite gesture.
“Oh, I’ve been alright, thanks… just working at the Ministry now, in Magical Games and Sports. Renting with a couple of flatmates in Diagon Alley.” She shrugged, pushing a loose chestnut lock behind her ear. “It’s a neat experience, but I dunno if it’s what I want to do forever. Dunno what I want to do forever anyways, really, so I suppose it’s just as well. And this whole being-an-adult thing isn’t as glorious as I’d thought it would be, with rent and bills to pay and the like,” she added with a wry smile.
In truth, she was thrilled about a recent notice from her supervisor that – given her “exemplary work” over the past year – she may be able to play a more direct role in the preparations for the next World Cup. But, as she’d just said, she still wasn’t entirely sure if that’s where she wanted to be for the rest of her life. Or even in the next five years.

“Never imagined I’d ever want to work for the Ministry,” she added suddenly, resting her right elbow on the table and propping her chin in her hand. “Not after— well, everything, really. I never liked politics.” She offered a small smile and a one-shoulder shrug. “Too much drama. Thought I could avoid at least some of it by working in Games and Sports… it’s a different kind, really, but still there. You wouldn’t believe the ridiculously stupid things that people get their panties all in a twist over…”
‘Probably best to steer clear of politics entirely.’
“Sorry,” she murmured, so quietly she wasn’t even sure if he’d heard – and not really sure why she was even apologizing to begin with. Maybe for rambling like a twit… or maybe for getting close to what might be a sore topic.
“Anyways… how are things with you? Did you have a good Christmas?” The holidays had passed almost a month ago now, but it was an easy and polite topic in any case.

After several minutes, she realized that her fingers were still a little numb from her walk over. She probably should have gotten her tea first so she wouldn’t have had to get up again, but it was too late for that now.
Waiting until there was an appropriate break in conversation, she plucked her coin purse from her bag and rose from the table.
“I think I’ll get some tea… can I— er, d’you want anything?”