An Interference of Portraits

Crossing A Bridge

Malfoy and I stood in my hallway silently, not quite knowing what to say to each other.

'We're not very good at this being polite to each other business,' I said suddenly, looking at him and realising for the first time exactly how good looking he was, despite his austere, detached demeanour.

'No...' he said carefully. He looked around us at the hallway and up the u-shaped stairs to the portraits. 'So, this is the Ancient and Noble House of Black. Uncle Sev said to be prepared that his so-called safe-house was a derelict shithole.'

I laughed, pleased by the candour and the suggestion of the old Malfoy from school who didn't hold back. 'He was speaking the absolute bloody truth and I regularly tell your Great-Aunt Walburga exactly the same thing. In fact, I think I've used the exact same description more than once. It doesn't please her.' I grinned and I pushed open the door to the dining room, a space I hadn't even contemplated tackling.

'Argh,' said Draco dramatically, recoiling in horror. 'Close it quick, before we're sucked into a portal directly to hell.'

I slammed the door shut and I laughed, eyes shining with amusement. Perhaps his dry humour was all we needed to break the tension. But when I turned to face him, his look was impenetrable. I couldn't read him.

'You could always put a concealment charm on it all and pretend it's not there,' Malfoy suggested drily.

'Yeah, but there's enough of those in the house anyway. Every time I start on a new room I have to use Secrecy Sensors. I keep discovering all sorts of shit and most of it's utterly worthless. I keep hoping I might find a treasure trove of family heirlooms but no, the most exciting thing I find is a portrait of yet another bloody family member who's been disowned. Still, at least I get to add them to my exciting collection on the stairs.'

'Is this what our Saviour has been doing with his valuable time then, since returning from his travels? A spot of interior decorating and hanging pictures.'

I smiled. 'Yeah, it's keeping me out of trouble between attending bloody interviews and going into the Ministry for whatever crap reason they can think of.'

'Somehow, I doubt you could ever be kept out of trouble,' he said with a familiar descending drawl but there was a vague hint of teasing too.

'Would you like a cup of tea? It is tea, right? I seem to remember from school.'

'It's not that long ago.'

'A whole four years for me. A lot's happened since then.'

'I suppose,' Draco said.

I said light-heartedly, 'I can barely remember where I was last week, let alone what happened back then.'

'Do we have to do this?' he said, looking uncomfortable.

'Maybe,' I said, looking at him directly. 'I suppose it's my way of saying it's all in the past. I know what happened between us, the whole different sides thing, the whole fighting, the whole...'

'We've said all this already,' he said stiffly, 'after the trial.'

'I know. I just wanted to say it again. I'm just reiterating that I'm sorry.'

'Me too,' he conceded, 'still. That hasn't changed since we last spoke so ineptly about it all. But I don't suppose there will ever be a way of speaking about it comfortably. Do we have to stand in the hallway all afternoon?'

'It's the best decorated space in the house, now that I've got rid of the Erumpent-Foot Umbrella Stand and House-Elf heads and snake wallpaper.'

'House-Elf heads?'