Oddities and Human-Nature Based on a Knockturn Alley prompt
Casting a Disillusionment charm on himself and backing it up with a Notice-Me-Not, as he often did, Draco entered Knockturn Alley. He couldn’t afford to be seen lurking there anymore. He’d come too close to losing everything in the war. He didn’t consider himself a dark wizard. Not really. Or at least, not since that moment in the Room of Hidden Things when, in the space of a few moments, all things became crystal clear. He was just a keen observer of human-nature and he’d done plenty of observing when the Dark Lord and numerous Death Eaters had made themselves at home in the Manor a few years ago.
Making his way to Borgin and Burkes, he leaned against the stone wall and watched wizards and the occasional witch enter and exit. Some, he observed, slinking down the space between the shop and the seedy pub next door, to what he knew was the back entrance. The shop still held immense fascination for him. It always had; cluttered with so very many oddities and unusual artifacts. He no longer felt the need to possess them. No, they merely fascinated him now. Cringing a little, Draco thought back on the incident with the Hand of Glory. That had been a colossal lapse of good judgement.
He moved to a vantage point across the street and squatted down to rest his legs. Forty minutes later, a cloaked figure clutching a small satchel scuttled between the buildings, no doubt heading for the back entrance. Fool, he thought. She wasn’t even subtle. He waited. Minutes later, several young Aurors, Potter among them, arrived and entered the shop. Draco heard the angry shouting and a small scuffle. Deciding that it was time to make himself scarce, Draco moved away and made his way out into Diagon Alley and Apparated home. He smirked to himself, knowing that when Harry returned home that night, his lover would have a story to tell.
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timeasmymeasure
Draco Drable
Date: 2013-06-04 11:45 pm (UTC)Based on a Knockturn Alley prompt
Casting a Disillusionment charm on himself and backing it up with a Notice-Me-Not, as he often did, Draco entered Knockturn Alley. He couldn’t afford to be seen lurking there anymore. He’d come too close to losing everything in the war. He didn’t consider himself a dark wizard. Not really. Or at least, not since that moment in the Room of Hidden Things when, in the space of a few moments, all things became crystal clear. He was just a keen observer of human-nature and he’d done plenty of observing when the Dark Lord and numerous Death Eaters had made themselves at home in the Manor a few years ago.
Making his way to Borgin and Burkes, he leaned against the stone wall and watched wizards and the occasional witch enter and exit. Some, he observed, slinking down the space between the shop and the seedy pub next door, to what he knew was the back entrance. The shop still held immense fascination for him. It always had; cluttered with so very many oddities and unusual artifacts. He no longer felt the need to possess them. No, they merely fascinated him now. Cringing a little, Draco thought back on the incident with the Hand of Glory. That had been a colossal lapse of good judgement.
He moved to a vantage point across the street and squatted down to rest his legs. Forty minutes later, a cloaked figure clutching a small satchel scuttled between the buildings, no doubt heading for the back entrance. Fool, he thought. She wasn’t even subtle. He waited. Minutes later, several young Aurors, Potter among them, arrived and entered the shop. Draco heard the angry shouting and a small scuffle. Deciding that it was time to make himself scarce, Draco moved away and made his way out into Diagon Alley and Apparated home. He smirked to himself, knowing that when Harry returned home that night, his lover would have a story to tell.