Who: Andrew Percy and the alter (Narrative) What: Entering the door Where: Passages Hotel When: Saturday Night Warnings/Rating: Nothing really
Andrew had been putting this off for a long time. He had planned on going during the day. He had sat over his morning coffee and the newspaper, with the key sitting next to him on the table. Come on. Take me home. The voice was insistent.
"Don't you want to know what is going on in the world?" Andrew mumbled, knowing there was no one there and talking to whatever was in his head was mad.
The voice swore at him in his British drawl. Andrew laughed a little bit. The young man was persistent. He was also pouty. What do you think? Once you go in, you will never come out? Far be it from me to keep you from public arse kissing. Don't you want to live, or learn magic? Sometimes Draco was enticing, other times he was demanding. He had a nonstop monologue in Andrew's head, but there were a few moments when he got quiet. She's gone anyway, not that I'm surprised. You are a bore.
"Shut up, Draco." From that point, Andrew had put him off, refusing to acknowledge the comments well into the evening. Draco lacked tact at times, or maybe he meant to bite. His comments had a sting to them, but they had an underlying truth from a boy who had seen a lot in his life. From the stories in the journal, Andrew had trouble figuring out why Draco would even want to go home. After the war, there wasn't much for him to go back to, especially after his name was ruined. Yet, Andrew could feel that desire.
Later that night, Andrew arrived at the hotel. He had been extra careful to ensure that he wasn't followed. He didn't even want his assistant in that room. No, this was between he and the voice in his head, Draco. He opened the door carefully. He hadn't been sure what to expect. He had thought the lobby would be busy, not a long-ago abandoned business. He felt his nerves jumping. Even his palms were itching. Draco seemed to have quieted as well, although he could feel the boy focusing on the goal. He was getting what he wanted and he knew it.
The hallways were dark, but Andrew found his way to a green and black door. It was made of heavy wood, much like one would find outside an old Irish pub. There was a small electrical charge around the doorknob. His key fit perfectly, and the lock clicked. He could feel Draco's stare, much like someone peeking around a corner. Andrew took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, feeling a bit like 'Alice in Wonderland'. He stepped forward slowly, vaguely aware of the door closing behind him.
Draco inhaled a couple of times, getting his bearings. He looked around, noticing the familiar sign above. "The Three Broomsticks," he smiled, considering a nice butterbeer. It had been so long since he had seen Hogsmeade. After the war, he had stayed in Wiltshire, with frequent trips into London. He rarely came back. Deciding that the butterbeer sounded good after all, the pulled the door open. "Madame Rosemerta," he nodded, smiling. It was an unusual sight, but he was feeling freedom. "It's my turn," he said to himself, taking a table and a look around.