#x...x

[boom-boom-clap-blog]

Omg I'm so dumb and blind I just realized Zelo have 3 earrings in left ear o-o they're real or... idk mindfuck x,..,x

[dracodemalfois]

It had been a few years since the end of the war, and the subsequent trials of nearly everyone Draco had grown up with. Draco himself had been acquitted, in no small part thanks to Potter's testimony and volunteered Pensieve memories. His mother had also been acquitted, as Potter had informed the Wizengamot that she had saved his life, and at no small personal risk. His father, however, had been sent to Azkaban once more, though his sentence was lightened by the fact that toward the end of the war, Lucius had no longer been acting to further the Dark Lord's mad schemes; he had focused on trying to save his family, and had barely succeeded.

It had also helped a great deal that multiple witnesses had seen both Lucius and Narcissa abandoning the final battle in a mad search for their only son in the chaos.

In the months following the trials, Draco had become a bit of a recluse, doing nothing but studying to complete his Potions Mastery. He had been determined to finish it, and had done so in record time, thanks to the portrait of Severus he'd commissioned and moved down to his lab.

Now, Draco made his way through a small village's market in the French wizarding countryside, nodding politely to the people he passed as he continued his search for a particular potions ingredient. He was on the hunt for a particular type of flower found only in faerie circles in this region of the country, and had managed to track a potential supplier to the village he was currently in.

Draco did not expect, however, to see Harry Potter outside of England, much less in the same small village as himself when he turned the corner.

Murmuring an apology in French to the elderly woman he'd come a little close to when he'd turned, Draco returned his attention to Potter and rose a single brow as he inspected him. Fortunately, he had come up behind the man and so was afforded the chance to decide whether or not to confront him. Draco had honestly not bothered to pay much attention to his former rival once he'd started studying in earnest; Draco hadn't even read the Prophet in years. He'd had far better things to do with his time than concern himself with that gossip rag.

Giving a slight shake of his head, Draco decided to leave well enough alone and not go up to Potter. If he were a few years younger, he certainly would have had a taunt or three at the ready, but since he had no idea what the Saviour had been doing with his time, he had no up-to-date insults to fling. And Draco refused to look like a child anymore, if he could help it.

And, because fate loved to laugh at him, Draco happened to spot the exact flowers he needed in the stall next to where Potter was standing. There was nothing for it, then. Rolling his shoulders back into the perfect posture he'd been raised with, Draco strolled up to the vendor and began chatting with her about the flower in French, acting for all the world as if Harry Potter weren't standing right next to him.

[chocobocpu]

My icon is manly as fuck.

Kaka carrot cake.

[itripovermyselfnuyork]

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