Manor
owlery
ask


Don't waste your breath trying to deem yourself adequate for my approval. It won't work.
And Potter—sod off.
1 2 3 4 5

OOC Roleplay Managed: Temporary Hiatus

nymph-tonks:

theroomofroleplay:

Hi there folks!

Well, we’re so pleased with how well this RPs been going over this past year, but we’ve made the decision to go on a temporary hiatus while school is still on. We’d like to pick up again in the summer possibly, once people have more time, and the enthusiasm is refreshed.

Myya and…

I’m reblogging this since I’m on my phone and can’t just reply or send owls….so when would the haitus start? Would we finish out the more active rp lines going right now? Or just kinda of let them fall? And to make sure you have all of our emails maybe you could send a test email? (I don’t trust email…) and when we pick up what time/year would we be in? uhm yea I think that’s all the questions I have….

Yeah so the hiatus is starting now, only because most people don’t have super important RPs going on right now because Hogwarts isn’t in session, and also because it’s taking too long to get the Venice RP done because people aren’t finding the time etc etc, and really, there just isn’t going to be a better time because things are appropriately slow right now.

When we pick back up in the summer we’d be picking up in the new semester in January probably, pretty much where we left off. And we could finish the Venice RP at that point, as well maybe have that New Years thing.

I know this feels kinda sudden, but with everyone being so busy, it’s just a good time.

I will certainly send you an email test it :)

xoxo Rory

(via nymph-tonks-deactivated20120729)

An Owl || Luna and Draco

puddingnargles:

infamouslydesired:

Dec 30th


Luna,  something’s happened. Harry and I have left Paris—Get back to Scotland. Now.


D. Malfoy.

Luna got Draco’s rushed letter and was about to go find her father when she remember that he was still out hunting for the humdingers that day. instead she went to start packing their things as she planed to leave as soon as her father got home. Her grandmother yelled at her, asking to see what she was doing and was shocked to find that she planed on leaving. 

Her father returned home shortly before dinner and she explained that they had to get back home now because some trouble had happened with her friends. She could tell that he was glad for the excuse to go home and they agreed with her grandmother that they would at least stay for dinner before they left. 

Getting back home she ran and wrote a letter back to Draco.

Draco,

I’m back home, what is it that happened? I hope everyone is okay.

Luna

Loony,

It’s a relief to hear. We’re all fine now. Death Eater movement in Italy. I’m aware that’s miles from where you were, but I figured we’d all be a bit safer just that much closer to Dumbledore. Tell your father to ward the house. We’re not sure if they followed us home or not.

See you over New Year’s hopefully. I’m an owl away if you need anything.

Draco x

OOC: @Pansy

So sorry hun! But we had no activity yesterday and we just have to get through this so we skipped you this round! Hopefully you’ll be able to jump in on your turn next round! <3

Harry, Blaise, Pansy and Draco || The Italian Job

a-god-among-men:

“You know you don’t have to try and charm me into being your date.” Pansy giggled some more. She’d been doing that quite often today. It must be the present company, or maybe something in the air, because usually she’d never be this… flighty, not in public.

Pansy kept her hand in Blaise’s, grinning when she saw Draco and Harry’s familiar features appear for the night. She was pretty excited for the festival; she’d never been to a Muggle one, and she wanted to see it’s execution. Maybe even afterwards they could all take a stroll, and people watch. It didn’t matter to her, either way. She was content, perfectly content.

As the ate, the city grew louder around them, the lights strung in the ivy decorated trellises over their heads appearing to grow brighter as the sky grew darker. It felt good to be in his own skin again, and Draco snuck a hand under the table to rest on Harry’s knee—who looked much better with his own face. The glamor-Harry had been attractive, but Draco was biased.

Music was starting and more and more people were waltzing by in inventive costumes with masks in their hands and on their faces. “There’s supposed to be a pretty fantastic light show not too far from here in about an hour,” Draco said conversationally as he pronged a piece of asparagus with his fork. “Oh and a few years ago there was the Symphony Splash, the orchestra on the water?” Well, technically on boats on the water, but still, the illusion was there. “That’s probably something we should try to catch.”

He’d just taken a bite and was chewing a rather large portion of chicken when a hand that was most definitely Harry’s slid up his thigh and stroked in a proximity to Draco’s groin that sent shivers down his “spine. He cleared his throat. “Say, Blaise, didn’t you say they serve that brilliant hot cider too? That spiced stuff made just for the festival?” Subject changes were good, subject changes kept Draco from closing in on Harry right here at the table and having his wicked way with him.

Thanks to the near constant state of hiding the true nature of their relationship, Harry had, in the recent months, become quite the expert in eating with one hand. On more than one trip into Hogsmeade a lunch with their friends had turned into a game of chicken between him and Draco, the object to see who could get the other more substantially distracted while remaining unnoticed. So, Harry fought down a smirk at the abrupt subject change, his hand moving the tiniest bit further up Draco’s leg and earning him a kick under the table.

“The Cider sounds like it’s delicious,” Harry agreed as Blaise explained it, almost able to taste the crisp apple flavor that he was sure would remind him of what a particularly drunk Draco tasted like. Right. Dinner conversation. He almost yelped in the middle of his next sentence as the hand he had on Draco’s thigh was answered by one caressing his own, and the shrewd look Blaise was giving them made  it clear he wasn’t at all oblivious to what they were doing.

“So they have a symphony actually playing on the water?” he asked, half curious and half to turn the conversation off of himself, Draco’s hand, or anything inappropriate that might come out of his mouth when he was on his more-than-second less-than-fifth glass of wine for the day. They had finished most of their meal by then, moving on to the last full course and starting to look at desserts. “What, exactly, is a ‘Chiacchiere’?” he asked as he browsed the menu, pronouncing the word out loud phonetically. “Sounds like some kind of bizarre houseplant my aunt and uncle had once.”

Blaise rolled his eyes at the couple, but decided to ignore whatever game they were playing at. “Yes, they do. They’re pretty good, or have been in the past,” he said and leaned back. Blaise was left feeling a bit tired, but no doubt would wake up for the festival. 

He swished his drink around as fancy people do. He had read somewhere that it was suppose to make the scent stronger. Or was it less strong? Either way, it didn’t really matter. “Those are fried pieces of dough with powder sugar on top of them. They’re a nice and light treat to have.” He waved the waiter over and ordered a plate of them for them to finish up their meal with before they got to the festival. 

Blaise had a feeling it would be a night to remember. 

Draco eyed the powdery sweets on the platter in the center of the table and watched with mixed emotions as Harry stuffed one in his mouth, the white powder flaking lightly over his lip. The Gryffindor grinned like a bafoon and licked his fingers. Draco rolled his eyes.

Reaching forward somewhat tentatively, he fingered one of the desserts and brought it to his lips, careful not to get any of the sugar on his jacket. “You’re fading on me, Blaise,” he said, giving his Italian friend a small smirk. “Shall I order a round of espressos?”

He did, even despite Harry’s insistence that he didn’t need one, and shot his own back before looking out onto the water again. He was anxious to take to the streets. Carts of festival trinkets and hot sweets would already be circling the cobblestone blocks, dancers would fill the streets, doing performances as they navigated the city, parading down walkways with music guiding their feet. Before dinner, Draco and Pansy had even done a few spells to liven up the attire of the four young wizards (and witch), glossing their jackets and collars with shimmers of silver and gold, and pastel colours that swirled in creative looping designs around the stitching.

Now, he realised they were missing something. Glancing around to make sure no one was looking onto their little table, Draco donned a grin of inspiration and touched his wand to his temple before tucking it back safely into jacket. Glitter of silver and black spread from his temple, across his brow and bridge of his nose, like paint being drawn on with invisible brushes of the smoothest stroke. In seconds, his face bore an elegantly painted mask around his eyes, not of solid colour, but of intricate designs that floated over his cheek bones in silver, black and a touch of emerald green. He shrugged at the others as they gazed at him in surprise. “We’ve got to fit in now, don’t we?” he intoned with a smile. He repeated to them the spell he’d used so they could go about doing their own masks if they so chose. 

When the check came, he grabbed it before the others had a chance to, and signed for it on the muggle card his mother had loaned him. It was easier than trying to sort through hundreds of unfamiliar bills that he could never quite remember how to use.

"Shall we?" he offered, raising a brow at his friends and turning to his boyfriend with a grin painted on his lips. He leaned in to kiss the brunet’s cheek, unable to stop himself.

(Source: prophecyseeker)

Harry, Blaise, Pansy and Draco || The Italian Job

pansy-flower:

a-god-among-men:

Looking around at the darkened streets, no one’s eyes were on them, and the gaiety of the festival was catching. “No one’ll notice us with the festival going on,” he pointed out, letting the glamour drop as Draco did the same. His eyes fell on the again-blond and, just as it had when they had finally dropped the glamours at the Malfoy’s, the sight of his real boyfriend was enough to plaster a smile on his face.

“That’s better, anyhow.”

Surprisingly, the afternoon hadn’t been as bad as he’d thought. Once he’d accepted that he wasn’t going to get out of it, the shopping, and Draco’s enthusiasm for it, was actually fun. He had even grown quite fond of Blaise and Pansy, the three Slytherins were entertaining in a way that his friends rarely were. 

“I’ve gotta say, for spending the afternoon with a bunch of snakes I’ve had a pretty good time,” he admitted, grinning as his eyes slid from Draco’s.

“Of course you did. Can you believe you missed out on this for six years?” Blaise asked and chuckled. He sipped his drink before setting it down. “Tomorrow, I’ll give you guys your Christmas presents. I know they’re late, but I’d rather give them in person,” he added and decided then was a good moment to crack his neck.

Yes, the day had gone smoothly, and he believed the night would go the same. It was nice to have some friends with him in his favorite place in the world. Okay, maybe second favorite. He looked at Pansy and lifted her hand. “Ah, Pansy, would you be my date for the festival?” he asked, turning his charm on high. “No other woman will do but you, mia cara,” he murmured against her hand before kissing it gently. 

“You know you don’t have to try and charm me into being your date.” Pansy giggled some more. She’d been doing that quite often today. It must be the present company, or maybe something in the air, because usually she’d never be this… flighty, not in public.

Pansy kept her hand in Blaise’s, grinning when she saw Draco and Harry’s familiar features appear for the night. She was pretty excited for the festival; she’d never been to a Muggle one, and she wanted to see it’s execution. Maybe even afterwards they could all take a stroll, and people watch. It didn’t matter to her, either way. She was content, perfectly content.

As the ate, the city grew louder around them, the lights strung in the ivy decorated trellises over their heads appearing to grow brighter as the sky grew darker. It felt good to be in his own skin again, and Draco snuck a hand under the table to rest on Harry’s knee—who looked much better with his own face. The glamor-Harry had been attractive, but Draco was biased.

Music was starting and more and more people were waltzing by in inventive costumes with masks in their hands and on their faces. “There’s supposed to be a pretty fantastic light show not too far from here in about an hour,” Draco said conversationally as he pronged a piece of asparagus with his fork. “Oh and a few years ago there was the Symphony Splash, the orchestra on the water?” Well, technically on boats on the water, but still, the illusion was there. “That’s probably something we should try to catch.”

He’d just taken a bite and was chewing a rather large portion of chicken when a hand that was most definitely Harry’s slid up his thigh and stroked in a proximity to Draco’s groin that sent shivers down his spine. He cleared his throat. “Say, Blaise, didn’t you say they serve that brilliant hot cider too? That spiced stuff made just for the festival?” Subject changes were good, subject changes kept Draco from closing in on Harry right here at the table and having his wicked way with him.

(Source: prophecyseeker, via pansy-flower-deactivated2013112)

Harry, Blaise, Pansy and Draco || The Italian Job

a-god-among-men:

pansy-flower:

prophecyseeker:

Harry winced as Draco turned away to go find Pansy, kicking himself for continually complaining about something he knew Draco enjoyed. He resolved to at least try to be enthusiastic - or at least not outwardly gagging - for at least the rest of the afternoon. Draco deserved that after all the sight-seeing antics Harry had dragged him through. 

He caught Draco’s arm, pulling and stopping the other boy. “Do your shopping thing,” Harry insisted, looking up at the changed irises of his boyfriend. “I’ll be good. Promise,” he added with a grin, leaning in to nip at Draco’s ear, apologize without apologizing.

He resigned himself to walking behind the again avid Slytherin, hanging back with an equally chagrined Blaise. “Thanks for trying anyway,” he laughed once Draco was further ahead, resting an arm back over Blaise’s shoulders. “I’m guessing you’ve lived in Italy before, and been subjected to his highness’ shopping trips before?”

Pansy let out a small giggle as she watched Harry and Blaise be dragged back into the store. They should have known that Harry would try and convince one of them to sneak him out; she just hadn’t expected Blaise to go for it. If anything, she had thought Draco would cave to “The Look.”

“As I was saying,” she continued when Draco was close enough to hear. “My Christmas has been splendid; Mother got me that fur coat I’ve been wanting. The one with the automatic warming charm?” Pansy lowered her voice then, in case the nosy saleswoman hovering close by picked up on her words. She sifted through the racks of clothing, occasionally picking an item to hold against her body, while also peeking at Blaise and Harry, who were getting along like champs.

“It’s nice that we can do this,” she blurted out. Pansy shoved a ghastly looking  fuchsia dress back into its place, frowning a bit. “Go out, I mean, together. Even if two of you are glamoured so badly it blinds me to look at.” Still, it felt great, fantastic even, to spend time with her friends after worrying about the next semester of school. Things were going to change, there was no doubt about that, so Pansy had to cherish everything until then.

It wasn’t as if Blaise didn’t enjoy shopping. He did, in fact, but the problem was that his mother dragged him to each store three times already. It had become boring because he had seen it all. It lost it’s newness. Plus, ice cream sounded like heaven at the time. He pulled his arm off Harry’s shoulders and nodded. “Oh yes. It can be fun, but my mother has worn me out, so I’m afraid I’m a bit boredom of it, but…Oh,” he said, as a thought came to his head. 

“There was this one thing I saw in here….Pansy! Come here, would you? I remember seeing this dress that I thought you’d love…It’s your favorite color, too,” he said, and suddenly walked away from Harry to try and hunt out where the dress was and catch up with Pansy. 

He grinned when he found the dress and lifted it by it’s hanger. The dress had a halter neck line and a thick white belt at the waist line. The fabric was very smooth and flowing, and Blaise was certain it would make Pansy seem all the more graceful. “Thought about giving it to you for Christmas, but I found something else I’d rather give you…You’ll have to be patient for it, though,” he said and then shrugged. 

“Do you like it?”

Draco could do nothing but let out a soft chuckle as Harry leaned into his ear to swipe a quick nibble. “You’ll behave all right,” he quipped, as Blaise interrupted Pansy from the other side, showing her a designer dress.

Three hours later, Harry certainly had behaved, or done his best to, and his reward had been a chocolate cone that he’d devoured with little class and plenty of childish enthusiasm.

Bogged down with several heavy bags, and enough clothes to last both Draco and Harry, and Pansy a life time (Blaise hadn’t made too many purchases, as he’d spent so much time in the city on other occasions) they all deemed themselves ready to settle down for some dinner before the festival picked up.

Draco selected a restaurant over looking the cobblestone streets and the canal scattered with illuminated Gondolas. Tourists and locals began to clutter the streets, gowns and masks of what seemed to be thousands of colors, flashing and reflecting the city lights.

The streets hummed with excitement. It was not quite dark, but dusk was falling and the sky going a fantastic mixtures of navy blues and pinks. A sense of ease came over Draco as the server brought the champagne they ordered and they all made their first bubbly cheers. For a moment, he forgot about the war and his father and the fact that his whole world could be turned upside down at any moment. He forgot about his worries and his fears and responsibilities.

As he set down his glass, glancing up at everyone’s smiling faces, he voiced a thought he didn’t have the where withal to filter. “Think it’d be safe to do away with these glamors? It’s almost dark now… and I could really do with a few minutes with my own face.”

Blaise, Draco, Pansy, and Harry || The Italian Job

a-god-among-men:

prophecyseeker:

As Draco dragged Pansy off to one of the clothing sections, Harry found himself somewhat alone with Blaise, although the other two were only a few aisles away. He aimlessly followed the tall Slytherin, unwilling to find himself alone in the unfamiliar place, but as Blaise started muttering, or worse, talking to Harry, about some of the items, he rethought his position on that. 

While he had actually found shopping with Draco could be fun, he doubted most of the reasons why were appropriate for shopping with friends. He just didn’t have the same imagination to see himself or others in the clothes; when Draco had tried to explain it to him, told him to imagine what he would look like, the furthest Harry had been able to get was the clothes hanging in mid-air. Instead he had let his boyfriend tell him what he looked good in, and he’d been content to merely model the different pieces back to an approving Draco.

His eyes drifted over to one of the many jewelry display cases scattered throughout the store, and he shuffled over to the case. Most of the jewels were over-sized and just looked like they would be awkward, but in among the - in Harry’s opinion - gaudy pieces there was a smaller pendent, made of tiny multi-faceted diamonds shaped into a flower-shape. It caught his eye because, even though he knew it looked nothing like a lily, it still reminded him of his mother. He made a note of it, but only gave the saleswoman a small smile and a ‘No thanks,’ when she asked if he saw anything he wanted.

Returning to where the other three were sorting through the racks and shelves, he shook his head at the fact that the others were as bad with clothes as we has in a Quidditch store. “I’d like to note,” he said, wandering back over to Blaise, because he was the closest, “that I already have a lot of new clothes, and probably don’t need anymore.” He put on his most hopeful, confident expression. 

Blaise chuckled and slung his arm over Harry’s shoulders. “Need, no, but it’s always good to have too many clothes. Especially when your boyfriend is as high maintenance as Draco,” he said with a grin before stepping away. “Come with me, and we’ll sneak away from those two. I believe I’ll have some sympathy for you and steal you away to get ice cream.”

He directed Harry out of the store, attempting to avoid being caught by Draco and Pansy. Really, Blaise thought it would be best for Harry and himself to get to know each other. It’d make talking about how arrogant Draco is, or how….Draco he is if they could be friends and joke. 

A hand on either or their shoulders stopped the boys in their tracks, only a few steps shy of the doorway and their escape. “And where do you think you’re going?” He donned a smug look, cocking a brow at them both. “Blaise, I expected better of you, trying to draw my boyfriend away. Not that I don’t appreciate the fact that you two are interacting on a surprisingly amicable level.” He grinned at the arm Blaise had slung around Harry’s neck. It was nice to see them less awkward than they had been in the past.

"And Harry, if you truly hated shopping with me this much, I think the most romantic, and top shopping city in the world was the wrong place to take you." He turned on his heel and went back to retrieve Pansy, knowing the other two would follow with dragging feet. If they truly weren’t interested than he and Pansy would just have to make his own purchases and move on to other things.

Blaise, Draco, Pansy, and Harry || The Italian Job

a-god-among-men:

prophecyseeker:

pansy-flower:

“Did I miss them..? Oh, I missed them, didn’t I?”

Pansy glanced around worriedly, hoping to catch a familiar face or body build. She would never admit it, but Pansy had overslept this morning, curled up snug in her bed covers. She had to rush to make herself presentable, scaring the house elves when she screeched at them to find her boots. At least the panic had made her hair bouncy with volume in her haste.

She’d been to Venice maybe a couple of times, for vacations and the like, but she never paid much attention to her surroundings, which she regretted very much at the moment. Why did Italy have to have so many stone bridges?

Pansy decided to try the next bridge over to see if she could spot her attractive male companions. She was halfway there when she saw three tall figures, instantly recognizing Blaise’s dark skin. She hurried her steps, easily dodging the Italians on the side walk before coming to the entrance of the right bridge.

“Sorry I’m late!” She called over to the three waiting, soon coming to a stop next to them. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting for long.” Pansy took note of Draco’s glamoured looks, looking a bit rounder than she was used to, and Harry’s… What was wrong with his head?

“You do realize something is trying to devour your scalp, don’t you Harry?”

Harry spotted Pansy as Blaise and Draco were exchanging ideas about where they should head to first, occasionally slipping in and out of Italian and losing him completely. They were almost at the far end of the bridge when she called to them. 

“Come on, it’s neater than usual and I still can’t catch a break,” he complained. Slytherins. “Not even Draco can get it to lay flat.” They set off to one of the nearby stores after the other three squabbled over where to visit first and Harry took in more of the busy streets, the buildings here even older than they had appeared in Paris. As they arrived at the store Harry stopped in his tracks, pulling Draco to a halt as well through their linked hands. “How about you guys go in and I’ll just…wait for you. Over there.” He pointed to a tourist ice cream stand further down the street in the hopes of avoiding more shopping.

“Oh, no, Harry, I insist you come in with us,” Blaise said with a grin. “I’ll promise you’ll get your ice cream afterwards.” And with that being said, they strolled into the shop. The willing and the unwilling together. The shop had racks upon racks of clothing, a jewelry section, and a smaller section of masks. 

“So, about what size is he, Draco? Note, I’m talking about clothing size.”

He suddenly remembered the presents he had that he needed to give to the group that was with him, but he might just wait until later. Shopping was the focus right now. 

Draco smirked wildly at Blaise and let out a bark of a laugh. “Head always in the gutter, isn’t it Blaise?” he teased. “But since you clarified, I’ll tell you that though Harry has a smaller waist, if you’d been asking about something else the answer would have been much different.”

He flashed Harry with a wry wink and strolled further into the store, taking Pansy with him by the fingers. “It’s good to see you,” he said. “How was your Christmas?”

Glancing around, he took note to take in things he might like to purchase for Harry—or might like to peel off of him slowly… He’d already gotten him a jacket this winter, so perhaps a few nice jumpers, or even another pair of denims. Ever since he started dating Harry he’d developed a fixation on the muggle items… in fact, he’d developed a bit of an interest in a lot of muggle clothing…. so many of them had so much opportunity for a sexy sort of class than robes did. He was finding himself fond of them.

An Exchange of Letters || Draco & Blaise

a-god-among-men:

infamouslydesired:

Blaise,


Things are going well here. Mother was strangely accepting of Harry, and the damn Gryffindor was unexpectedly gracious. I swear he must have taken lessons or something. Were you and Pansy in on it by chance?

Took the git shopping too. Can’t wait to tear those new denims off with my teeth, let me tell you….

So where would you like to meet up? The 28th okay? Harry doesn’t know yet but I want to be back in London by the 31st for the New Year’s thing I’ve been planning.

Kittens? How do I feel about Kittens? What most people feel I suppose… how can you not? As long as they don’t claw up my cloak. Why do you ask?

Give your mother my love for me,

xx

Draco

Draco,

Your mother accepted him? I’m surprised. Did you comb that mangled mess of hair of his and clean him up? I guess I’m happy for you two. Just keep being careful. If you are being careful.

Too much information, Draco. I’m sure you can just talk to Pansy about the juicy details. I don’t think I could stomach it…or without laughing.

Maybe at Ponte di Railto? The 28th is fine with me. 

Ah. My mother picked them up because her husband was away on a business trip and she felt lonely. Honestly. So, there’s about five kittens and their mother running about our place. 

Oh, I sure will. She keeps asking when you’ll come visit. “Oh, Blaise, when is the Malfoy family coming? Will it be just Draco? Such a handsome man I’m sure he’s become…He was cute when he was little, wasn’t he? Though, not as cute as you, darling.”

Her words, not mine.

Hope Potter isn’t allergic to cats, 

Blaise.

Blaise,


Oh fuck I’m positive Potter will have a conniption fit when he hears about the kittens. His silly Gryffindor heart will surely explode. In fact, I think I’ll let you do the honors of telling him.

Haha, how I do look forward to seeing your mother. She always was good to me. You know though, that she only said that you were cuter out of obligation, you being her son and all. Clearly, I am the more handsome between us.

Never too much information, Blaise. Just remember, it could have been you and me, had things been different. And not so much luck with Pansy actually, haven’t heard back from her in a while. Hopefully things aren’t too messy with her back at home.

I’m always careful, Blaise, so you can rest your pretty little head. Actually, on that note, you should know now that I’ll be under disguise when you see me in Italy. At least when we’re in public. Harry and I are both using glamors as opposed to polyjuice, so look for the dashingly handsome brunette (though not quite as handsome as your original best mate) with blue eyes and a long face, likely in the clutches of a lighter haired, though equally messy looking punker version of Potter. We’re the same, only different. Should be easy for you.

Looking forward to seeing you mate,


Love Draco

Blaise, Draco, Pansy, and Harry || The Italian Job

a-god-among-men:

prophecyseeker:

“Potter if you don’t keep up so help me I will hex you.” 

Harry rolled his eyes, still pulling against the once again disguised hand of Draco Malfoy as he was led through the streets of Venice, Italy. Turning, Draco stopped to face him, a glare on the slightly less than normally pointed features. It wasn’t nearly as effective, Harry noted, irritatedly brushing his longer hair back as he returned the gesture.

“I don’t see why we have to go shopping again, I already own more new clothes than I know what to do with. I’d rather just walk around and enjoy the festival,” he argued back, although at the moment most of the huge celebration was still in the various stages of set-up along the crowded Venician streets.

After spending both Christmas and Boxing Day with Narcissa, Draco had finally had the opportunity to take Harry shopping in Paris, as well as returning to the Eiffel Tower after dark, and it seemed like a hundred other things they had packed into the next day until Harry felt like he could very well pass out from all the sight-seeing. They had arrived in Italy that morning and had spent most of it with Harry dragging Draco to, through, over, and around every major landmark, historical building, and fancy cafe in sight. He had argued it wasn’t in retaliation for the countless hours they had spent in dressing rooms with Draco ordering Harry to try on practically every piece of cloth in the stores, but Harry felt that maybe the tiniest bit of payback was in order. 

They were just arriving at an old row of shops on the crowded mainstreet around noon, the Grand Canal running alongside the walkway; Gondalas and river boats moving slowly along the tide casting an idyllic charm over the crowded, noisy area. Despite Harry’s attempts to stall, they had arranged to meet Pansy and Blaise for a ‘short’ shopping spree before the four of them headed for the New Year’s festival being held that night. Meeting Draco’s glare again Harry relented, knowing that it was partially his boyfriend’s way of making up for what he couldn’t say - what neither of them could say. “Fine, let’s go.” He grabbed at Draco’s hand again, diving closer to the other boy to press a quick, fervent kiss to the other boy’s lips before they made their way to a stone bridge arching across the water, a familiar olive skinned figure lingering in the middle of the arch.

Blaise sighed and looked at his watch, which was new. A gift from his mother’s new husband to get into his good graces, he supposed. It was nice though, and Blaise didn’t mind accepting it, but there was not a high chance of the new man to get into Blaise’s good graces. 

He was acting impatient, but really, he hadn’t been there long. Maybe five minutes or something, but naturally, he put on the act of being people someone with a purpose and high standard. Though, he was certain that Draco would be there soon with Harry. 

Since when did he start referring to to him as Harry, anyway?

He sighed again and looked at either direction of the bridge. He had a vague idea of what they would look like, but he wasn’t sure…Oh. Was that them there? He was about 90% it was and begun to make his way to them. 

Ciao,” he said with a grin, giving a little salute with his fingers. “Il mio nome è Blaise, e io sarò il vostro accompagnatore affascinante oggi.“ 

"Now, now, Blaise," the glamoured face of Draco scolded. "That’s hardly a way to speak to Mr Potter here—in a language he hasn’t a hope of understanding," he clarified, throwing his boyfriend a mischievous smirk. It had taken him a while to get used to the longer, lighter scruff on Harry’s head the first time around, and this time, though it had come as more familiar, he still found himself yearning for that tousle of thick black locks.

Ciao, mi bello,” Draco added to his greeting, leaning in to give Blaise a kiss on the cheek and stepping aside so Harry and Blaise could shake hands. “It’s good to see you. Have a happy Christmas?”

They still hadn’t received confirmation from Pansy that she would be joining them. They’d exchanged one or two letters over the holidays, but as the date of meeting drew nearer, word from her grew scarcer and they were no longer sure what her plan was. They had high hopes though, that she would meet up with them at some point during or before the festival.

With a long day of shopping ahead of them, as well as an evening of celebrating, Draco hoped the weather would hold out. At least until they stopped for dinner and a few drinks, perhaps at good Italian restaurant, or even a casual pub. And then clear up again by the time the light festival started after nightfall.

Cormac and Draco // Where it is Agreed Upon that Zachariah Smith is a Cunt // Complete

Read More

(via the-king-of-gryffindor-deactiva)

Harry and Draco || The City of Lovers

prophecyseeker:

Even as hungry as he was, Harry had to stop between almost every mouthful to gape or stare or talk excitedly about something, only once forgetting to thoroughly swallow and chew his food before he did so. Briefly he told Draco about his time at the Weasley’s, kicking the other boy when he affected a look of sickness at the topic. 

With dessert he continued on about everything in Paris so far, multiple times coming back to their previous and promised future visit to the Eiffel Tower. At one point he had even arranged the wafers that had come with their dessert into a tower like structure, a completely childish grin on his face, before Draco had knocked it down with a scandalized look on his face and a few comments about Muggles and their abilities to teach manners. “Trust me, I’m fit to eat with the Queen compared to my cousin,” Harry countered, eating the now destroyed tower-wafers.

Finally they were both done, Harry having eaten a good few more portions than Draco had, and they left the restaurant in search of “more things for you to run your mouth about.” They walked around the surrounding area, stopping in every monument or national sight Draco knew Harry would want to see, occasionally - and more often as the day went on - finding themselves in out of the way corners for a quick snog or heated groping in the alcove of the Arc de Triumphe. Too soon the sun was starting to sink, and Harry noticed how Draco had become somewhat more subdued as the day wore on and it got closer to supper time with Mrs. Malfoy. Harry himself had been so focused on seeing everything Paris had to offer that he had nearly forgotten the main reason he had come to France, until a lull in conversation and a convincing Narcissa Malfoy look-alike strolling past the bench they were seated at.

He wasn’t so much nervous about meeting Narcissa Malfoy, Draco’s Mother, because he was sure that as highly as the other boy thought and spoke of her, she would approve of any choice he made; Draco had even mentioned that she had been less than surprised when he had told his mother who he was dating. Harry was more nervous about meeting Narcissa Malfoy, wife of Lucius Malfoy, the Death Eater Harry had been primely responsible for putting in Azkaban. And, despite Draco’s attempt at coaching during lunch - “Really Potter, I’m beginning to think you were raised by monkeys. Not even those horrible Muggles of yours could mistake a salad fork for a dinner fork” - he was still a bit iffy on the whole Pureblood manners thing.

As there was clearly nothing for it, and he had done all the stalling possible, Draco resigned himself to the fate that it was now or never with bringing his boyfriend home to his mother—bringing Harry Potter home to Narcissa Malfoy.

They walked somewhat quietly to the nearest Apparation point, exchanging some slow and casual conversation, but Harry was mostly talked and touristed out from their day on the town.

When they finally stood in front of the high arching doorway of the Parisian Malfoy manor, Draco looked sideways at the Gryffindor and assessed his expression. The boy’s face was more or less subdued, but he knew he had to have been at least a bit nervous because his palm was sweaty in Draco’s hand.

“So, remember, use the utensils from the outside and work your way in. And try not to talk to much. And don’t mention my father. Or the Dark Lord. And—”

The look on Harry’s face got Draco to shut up, and he managed a nervous smirk. “Sorry,” he said. He lifted his hand to twist the doorknob, but just as his fingers touched it, he changed his mind and twisted towards Harry. Snaking an arm around the boy’s warm waist, he pulled him close to into his body and pressed a slow, hot kiss on his lips. Pulling away slowly, Draco leaned into Harry’s ear, pressing his lips to the boy’s neck. “Just get through these next few hours and I will make it well worth your while tonight. In the far wing of the house. Far, far away from my mother.” He was sure Harry could feel the weak grin on Draco’s lips as his mouth curved against Harry’s skin.

“Agreed?” he purred, one hand grazing down Harry’s lean back to cup his arse.

Being exasperated at Draco’s worry gave him something else to focus on besides the nervous pounding of his own chest. Slipping an answering hand around Draco’s back and savoring the warmth between them, Harry grinned against a sharp shoulder. “Deal, but this payback better be pretty fucking spectacular,” he teased. Just as they were pulling away, the door gave a subtle creak and swung open, revealing none other than Mrs. Malfoy.

“If you boys are done necking in public, I believe introductions would be proper, Draco?”

For an instant Harry’s instinct was to keep hold of Draco as the only thing that stood between him and a possibly raging matron of the Malfoys, but as they quickly separated - flushed red faces and all - even Harry couldn’t miss the amusement on the older woman’s face. Even so, he gripped the hand next to his, entwining their fingers as he swallowed convulsively, nodding at the woman. “Hello, Mrs. Malfoy.”

Draco thought he might be ill when he was drawn from the warm comfort of Harry’s neck by the sound of his mother’s voice.

Great.

Clearing his throat, the blond tried to compose himself as he looked up at his mother, eyes darting over her shoulder tot he house beyond, mostly because meeting her eyes at the moment was a tad embarrassing. “Mother,” he said with a nod.

He felt awkward enough that when she backed up and widened the door for them to enter, he would have just strolled passed, tense. But he met her eyes and she was smiling with them and he’d missed her and so when she reached out and touched him on the elbow, he caved and slipped forward to kiss her on the cheek. Hand still threaded with Harry’s, he whispered a quiet ‘Thank You’ in her ear. Because he knew she was going to be supportive, more or less, and it was everything he needed at the moment.

"So, I suppose official introductions are in order," he started. "Harry, this is my mother, Narcissa Malfoy. Mother, you know Potter, obviously."

Harry was cute and bumbling when he reached forward and pressed an only slightly awkward kiss to the back of her hand. Swallowing a laugh, Draco coughed to cover his amusement and shared a glance with his mother. There was bemusement in her eyes and they were twinkling subtlety, though her expression remained rather neutral.

"A pleasure, Mr. Potter," she offered. "Come in, please. Would either of you like some tea before dinner? Draco—Earl Grey?"

(Source: infamouslydesired)

An Exchange of Letters || Draco & Blaise

a-god-among-men:

Dear Mr. Blond and Gorgeous,

How are things going in Paris? Things in Venice are pretty calm, which is nice. Mother seems to be doing well with her new husband, though they’re out shopping nearly everyday. The weather has been lovely here as well.

Mostly, things have just been too quiet and calm for me. Think you could perhaps make a visit? I’ll make it worth your while if you can.

It’s too bad that I can’t drag you along to scope out someone for me to partner up with for the winter holidays. Or can I? Your opinions and assumptions are always good, if not a bit of a laugh sometimes.

Speaking of hooking up, how are you Potts doing?

Ignore the drawing of the broom to the side. I was trying to figure out what else to write, but all I could think about was a broom I saw in a store window while out with mother. It was a real beauty, Draco.

Love,

B. Zabini

P.S. How do you feel about kittens?

Blaise,


Things are going well here. Mother was strangely accepting of Harry, and the damn Gryffindor was unexpectedly gracious. I swear he must have taken lessons or something. Were you and Pansy in on it by chance?

Took the git shopping too. Can’t wait to tear those new denims off with my teeth, let me tell you….

So where would you like to meet up? The 28th okay? Harry doesn’t know yet but I want to be back in London by the 31st for the New Year’s thing I’ve been planning.

Kittens? How do I feel about Kittens? What most people feel I suppose… how can you not? As long as they don’t claw up my cloak. Why do you ask?

Give your mother my love for me,

xx

Draco

Harry and Draco || The City of Lovers

prophecyseeker:

infamouslydesired:

prophecyseeker:

“I can tell you whatever I want, Potter,” the blond drawled, but he was grinning because the dopey-awed look on Harry’s face was regrettably adorable. “You know that.”

As the taxi pulled up in front of the Palais Royal, the exquisite French restaurant on the skirts of the of the Louvre, Draco told Harry to wait, got out of the cab, then walked around to hold the car door open for the boy. The grin on Harry’s face was both bemused and somewhat baffled. Draco did nothing but smirk, take his boyfriend’s hand and lead him towards the entrance. Inside was luxurious and affluent, but he told the server to take them through to the patio. The patio, sunny and warm and everything of fine dining, looked onto the garden’s of the Louvre. Today was quiet—at mid afternoon, too early for dinner but well after lunch, there were only two other couples in this segment of the restaurant.

Before they even sat, Draco slid the server a bill in a stealth handshake, asked him for quick service, but as much privacy as possible, and to start them off with a bottle of their best champagne.

Then, he pulled a chair out for Harry, before sidling over to his own side and taking a graceful seat.

He wished he could show Harry everything at once, wine him and dine him and treat him to everything that would make that goofy grin of his even more jovial and lopsided. He wondered idly where he could take him next—if they should go boating on the canal of Versaille, or walking the cobbled streets of the Italian Quarter… or perhaps go t a French club or two… He had promised Harry to take him back to the Eiffle tower after dark. So maybe they could go to the Manor to meet mother for dinner then venture out again afterwards. At least then he could fill the boy with a fair amount of french wine and liquor without having to worry about keeping him presentable for the first meeting with Narcissa.

When the server came by with their champagne, Draco motioned for him to serve Harry first. Harry who still looked like a lighter, longer haired punker of sorts. Which made Draco look forward to when they could get back home and lose the glamor charms, because as good as Harry still looked, he liked original Harry better.

Flattered and slightly flustered by the special treatment Draco was giving him, Harry was certain the Slytherin had something up his sleeve. The Draco he was accustomed to - or the one he thought he was accustomed to - was, not so much colder, but seemingly much less concerned with the little gestures that had been cropping up since Harry had arrived in Paris. The offering to carry his bag, the fancy restaurant and opening doors, pulling out chairs, and if Draco thought Harry had missed the discrete interaction between him and the waiter that had them seated far enough away from the other couples to not fear any eavesdropping, he had another thing coming.

But he found himself inexplicably impressed by the change in attitude, even if he was a bit suspicious of the other boy’s motive. He stayed silent as he took in the grand terrace they were seated in; it was open and bright, and the view of the jaw-dropping crystalline pyramid - which Draco had explained was France’s piece de resistance, the Louvre art museum - ensured that Harry’s cheeks were sore from all the awed gawking he was doing. 

The waiter bringing them champagne, and serving him before Draco on the other boy’s request, was the final straw, and Harry brought his gaze back to Draco’s appraising smirk as the waiter left. “So, did I miss something, or have I magically been transported to a world where Draco Malfoy sorted Gryffindor because of his chivalry?” He raised an eyebrow as he met his eyes met amused grey, but in the warmth of the other boy’s face he saw something, something different, that maybe made everything else make sense.

Draco looked happy.

Worry that Harry had never caught as an almost permanent feature on his boyfriend’s aryan features was distinctly lacking now, and it made the sharp angles of the other boy’s face soften as the corners of his eyes followed his mouth in an upward curve. The change, now that Harry saw it, felt as if it stopped his heart for a few seconds, before his brain remembered that while staring at his gorgeous lover was all well and good, a working lungs and heart would be nice too. His tongue still felt tied though, with so many things that emotion worn plain on Draco’s face conjured, so he settled for drinking some of his champagne and wrapping his foot around a thin ankle under the table. 

Draco folded an arm over the pristine white table cloth and fingered the stem of his champagne glass idly. His pink tongue slipped out to flick across his lips and he shook his head. “Chivalry isn’t a Gryffindor trait, Potter,” he said with a smirk. “Cheese and sap is a Gryffindor thing. Chivalry is simple proper manners.” He lifted the glass to his lips and paused before taking a sip. “Comes with the territory of being a pureblood,” he added.

The truth was he resettled into a part of himself with only a few hours spent back in Paris. Old habits, things that were impossible to forget as they’d been ingrained into his entire essence since he was old enough to walk.

When Draco had talked Harry through the contents of the menu, translating the dishes and carefully steering him away from the traditionally French dishes such as hearts and legs and stomachs of any kind.

The food was divine, as he’d remembered, and though he tried to maintain conversation with the boy eagerly babbling away about things he’d seen so far and talk of Quidditch, he found himself talking much less, and memorizing the lines of Harry’s happy face much more.

Even as hungry as he was, Harry had to stop between almost every mouthful to gape or stare or talk excitedly about something, only once forgetting to thoroughly swallow and chew his food before he did so. Briefly he told Draco about his time at the Weasley’s, kicking the other boy when he affected a look of sickness at the topic. 

With dessert he continued on about everything in Paris so far, multiple times coming back to their previous and promised future visit to the Eiffel Tower. At one point he had even arranged the wafers that had come with their dessert into a tower like structure, a completely childish grin on his face, before Draco had knocked it down with a scandalized look on his face and a few comments about Muggles and their abilities to teach manners. “Trust me, I’m fit to eat with the Queen compared to my cousin,” Harry countered, eating the now destroyed tower-wafers.

Finally they were both done, Harry having eaten a good few more portions than Draco had, and they left the restaurant in search of “more things for you to run your mouth about.” They walked around the surrounding area, stopping in every monument or national sight Draco knew Harry would want to see, occasionally - and more often as the day went on - finding themselves in out of the way corners for a quick snog or heated groping in the alcove of the Arc de Triumphe. Too soon the sun was starting to sink, and Harry noticed how Draco had become somewhat more subdued as the day wore on and it got closer to supper time with Mrs. Malfoy. Harry himself had been so focused on seeing everything Paris had to offer that he had nearly forgotten the main reason he had come to France, until a lull in conversation and a convincing Narcissa Malfoy look-alike strolling past the bench they were seated at.

He wasn’t so much nervous about meeting Narcissa Malfoy, Draco’s Mother, because he was sure that as highly as the other boy thought and spoke of her, she would approve of any choice he made; Draco had even mentioned that she had been less than surprised when he had told his mother who he was dating. Harry was more nervous about meeting Narcissa Malfoy, wife of Lucius Malfoy, the Death Eater Harry had been primely responsible for putting in Azkaban. And, despite Draco’s attempt at coaching during lunch - “Really Potter, I’m beginning to think you were raised by monkeys. Not even those horrible Muggles of yours could mistake a salad fork for a dinner fork” - he was still a bit iffy on the whole Pureblood manners thing.

As there was clearly nothing for it, and he had done all the stalling possible, Draco resigned himself to the fate that it was now or never with bringing his boyfriend home to his mother—bringing Harry Potter home to Narcissa Malfoy.

They walked somewhat quietly to the nearest Apparation point, exchanging some slow and casual conversation, but Harry was mostly talked and touristed out from their day on the town.

When they finally stood in front of the high arching doorway of the Parisian Malfoy manor, Draco looked sideways at the Gryffindor and assessed his expression. The boy’s face was more or less subdued, but he knew he had to have been at least a bit nervous because his palm was sweaty in Draco’s hand.

"So, remember, use the utensils from the outside and work your way in. And try not to talk to much. And don’t mention my father. Or the Dark Lord. And—"

The look on Harry’s face got Draco to shut up, and he managed a nervous smirk. “Sorry,” he said. He lifted his hand to twist the doorknob, but just as his fingers touched it, he changed his mind and twisted towards Harry. Snaking an arm around the boy’s warm waist, he pulled him close to into his body and pressed a slow, hot kiss on his lips. Pulling away slowly, Draco leaned into Harry’s ear, pressing his lips to the boy’s neck. “Just get through these next few hours and I will make it well worth your while tonight. In the far wing of the house. Far, far away from my mother.” He was sure Harry could feel the weak grin on Draco’s lips as his mouth curved against Harry’s skin.

"Agreed?" he purred, one hand grazing down Harry’s lean back to cup his arse.

George and Draco || Owl || A Planning of Sorts

pranksteroverlord:

infamouslydesired:

pranksteroverlord:

He saw the want to help flash though Draco’s features, and was quick to say, “But we could definitely have you and Harry working there for the Summer, hell I’m sure whoever we give the position to would love a summer break,” he chuckled, “I know I would… in fact, why do you even want to work in the holiday?” he added, speaking as his mind thought. At Draco’s offer of help, he let out a breath he didn’t notice he was holding, and a smile broke out across his face, “That would be great, thanks mate. I dare say, Fred and I aren’t the greatest…” he searched for the right word, “business people.” he chuckled, “We get how potions and people work, but not so much finances.”

He smiled, and simply reiterated what he said before, “Like I said, we’d be happy to have you over the summer, it would actually be great for us too, although the amount of owls we’d receive from mum…” he shivered slightly, “I’d be willing to wade through all those letters for friends though,” he said mockingly with a hand over his heart and batting his eye lashes, “But seriously, I wont take no for an answer. I’ll be expecting to see both of you bright and early on the last day of term, suitcases packed and ready to move in.” He smiled wider. To be honest, he was actually quite looking forward to it, having Harry and, admittedly, Draco working for them, and quite possibly seeing them practically every day sounded like fun. It was funny really, had someone told him, hell, a month ago, that he’d not only be sitting, having a civil conversation with Draco, discussing the possibility of seeing him every day for an entire summer, but he was happy about it, he’d have laughed in their face and shipped them off to St Mungo’s. He laughed softly to himself at the thought.

He watched as Draco’s face washed a deeper shade of pink, subconsciously biting his bottom lip. And when the other boy confirmed that he, himself felt very similar about their situation, it brought a face-splitting grin to his face that just would not go away. And it was only… 63% smug. Which soon enough got outweighed by sincerity, though George’d never admit it.

“Well, I’m glad to be of assistance,” he smiled cheekily, “But really, I’m sure the longer you spend time around Hermione and Ron, the less awkward it’ll become. Ron is rather immature when it comes to stuff like this, but he get’s over things eventually, so don’t fret, if your thing with Harry is serious business, they’ll come around soon enough. If not because they like you; because they like Harry.” He was certain, at least Hermione would see the light, but he wasn’t so confident in Ron’s ability to let the past go. But he’d have a stern conversation with his brother that may or may not involve slapping some sense into him if he had to. Plus with Hermione and Ron keeping each other busy, and not to mention happy, he was sure they’d accept Draco sooner or later.

He was momentarily dazed by the blond boy’s eyes before he chocked on his saliva at the very sudden, and very graphic images now currently spinning though his head. A deep flush spread over his face, as he quickly attempted to regain his composure. He laughed once he was sure he wasn’t going to make a fool out of himself, and tried, in vain, to remove the inappropriate pictures rushing around his mind. He didn’t trust himself to speak yet.

He laughed again at what Draco said, and finally felt able to form sentences, “No worries, just caught me off guard,” he laughed again, “Believe it or not, I’ve heard worse.” he broke the eye contact with the blond he didn’t realise he was keeping, and took a sip from his drink, now lukewarm and not so yummy any more. 

“So how’re things, otherwise?” he asked, as casually as possible with what would probably be classed as porn still filling his head.

He liked the way red had crept into George’s features, (which blended, really, with the rest of him, so it wasn’t that noticeable), at the forthright talk about his excursions with Harry. Draco had always found pleasure in the slight discomfort of others, because hell, it was amusing, but this was a little bit different and in a way that Draco couldn’t quite pin point.

Weasley was actually smiling shyly, blushing furiously at the topic, and come to think of it, had he noticed the red-head watching Draco’s lips and tongue as he spoke from time to time? He’d thought maybe, but he couldn’t really be sure. He’d put it off as merely his imagination. Not that it mattered, anyway, because by this point, he was entirely devoted to Harry, one hundred percent, but it made him wonder… was this particularly Weasley twin… curious? Because Draco got the sense George’s discomfort didn’t stem from feeling awkward about the queer talk, but perhaps from something else. He shook his head slightly to clear his head. Best not to let himself get distracted on that train of thought.

“Well, things are alright, I suppose,” Draco answered slowly. “Mother’s doing well. She’s in Paris right now, and actually, I’m going to visit her over the holidays. Quite looking forward to it, and well, Harry’s supposed to be joining me after he spends some time with… with you folk, I mean.”

George smiled but it faltered at the scrutinising look Draco was sending his way. It could’ve been his imagination because Malfoys were famous for their ability to hide emotions, but he couldn’t help but notice Draco eyeing him in a way that made him slightly uncomfortable, like he was trying to see into his mind. He would’ve thought legamency but the look lacked  the distinctively intrusive feeling in the back if his scull he would’ve felt had it been. He tried to compose himself, he didn’t know why but something about Draco had him flustered, which was a strange occurrence for the red-head as he was usually the fluster-er not the fluster-ee. 

He shook himself out of it, pulled on a mask to hide his flushed features, and managed to get the next sentence out without so much as a stutter. “That’s good,” he nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’d love to visit Paris,” George said in a wistful airy voice, “Mum and dad could never afford to go abroad, but maybe once me and Fred have enough money from WWW, we could take the whole family,” he mused aloud, no longer paying attention to the blond sitting opposite him. He stared into space for a few moments more before pulling himself out of his thoughts and back to reality, blushing slightly at his words, “Sorry about that,” he laughed breathily, “It’s been on my mind for a while…” he let that thread of conversation die and moved on in a much brighter tone.

George thought about the Slytherins’ last words, “Hopefully soon you’ll be able to join Harry at our house, mum would need a lot of convincing , but she’d get over it if she knew you make Harry happy.” He chuckled to himself at the comical reactions he was imagining coming from his parents when they found out. They’d come round soon enough though, he was sure of it.

Draco let out a somewhat humourless laugh, swishing the now cool-liquid in his cup around and watching it slosh up the sides. “Convincing… yes, I’m sure.”

Offering George a small grin, he cleared his throat. “Well It’ll be interesting telling my mother about Harry. I have a feeling I might need to get drunk for that one,” he quipped.

As their chat lulled over the rest of their coffee, Draco finally forced himself to cast a quick tempus. “I should be getting back,” he said eventually, though he was strangely disappointed to be leaving the red head’s company. “Thanks for meeting with me. I’ll owl you over the holidays to solidify some details for New Years?”