05/06/05

Over the rim of his coffee cup, Draco stared bleakly out into the rain. This was no time to be up on a Sunday, but he'd woken up in the wee hours of the morning and been unable to fall asleep again.

God, how he hated this place.

He poured the rest of his lukewarm coffee into the sink and went back to the bedroom which also served as living room during the day, resigned to wasting another Sunday in front of the telly.

He must have dozed off eventually after a few hours of stupid soap operas, because he was woken by the rattling of the windowpanes shortly before noon. Groggy and disoriented, he went over to the window to check whether the storm had pushed it open somehow - and saw the owl.

For a moment, he just stood there and stared at it. It had been more than seven years since he'd last seen an owl, and his first impulse was to close the curtains and quietly wait for the bird to leave.

Yet a second later, he was flinging the window open and grabbed the parchment that was attached to the owl's leg with a feeling akin to greed. However bad the message probably was - there were no good news for the likes of him anymore - it was still his first contact in all those years with the world he'd grown up in, and he'd be damned if he'd let this opportunity pass.

There was a slim package inside the roll of parchment. The parchment itself bore the seal of the Ministry of Magic.

His heart pounding, Draco broke the seal and opened the letter.

Malfoy,

I wanted to inform you about the Ministry's decision to lift the banishment sentence against family members of known Death Eaters that was issued by the Wizengamot after the end of the war.

After much public debate, it has finally been decided that the Wizengamot had no right to banish persons based on their family affiliations if they hadn't been found guilty of any charges themselves.

You will receive an official letter during the next week, but when I checked your file and realized which day it was, I decided to tell you today.

You never gave me any reason to like you, Malfoy, but even you didn't deserve seven years of exile in the Muggle world just because you happen to be your father's son.

Happy birthday.

Neville Longbottom
Deputy secretary
Department of Magical Law Enforcement
Ministry of Magic

Frowning, Draco opened the package - and stopped breathing for a moment.

Ebony, twelve inches, dragon heartstring.

His wand.

Draco's hand was shaking when he reached for it. The handle was smooth from seven years of use, yet it felt strangely unfamiliar after another seven years during which it had been locked away in a Ministry safe.

Holding his breath, Draco pointed the wand at the candle on the bedside table. He'd learned to keep candles everywhere in his apartment after he'd first had to live without electricity for a month because he hadn't been able to pay the bills, but now...

"Incendio!"

There was nothing unfamiliar to the surge of magic that rushed through him. This was his, a part of him that had been missing all those years, and the feeling of finally being whole again was almost intoxicating.

Turning and casting spells all around, Draco lit all the candles in the room until he was surrounded by the soft flickering of tiny flames.

He wondered for a moment whether there might be twenty-five of them before extinguishing them with another flick of his wand. There was no need to make a wish - the one thing he'd been desperately longing for had just been given to him by Neville Longbottom of all people.

Draco couldn't help smiling when he whispered into the silence of the empty room: "Happy birthday to me."