A tiny bedsit at 54, Tottenham Court Road. A horizontal flop-house, offering the four Ss and little more. Once he's sure of his position at the Ministry, he plans to move. No one else (except his landlord) has seen the inside of the place, at least to Draco's knowledge. No "non-Muggle" modifications have been made, and nothing he leaves in the place radiates the slightest magic. He has, for example, an entirely magic-free shaving kit, including an old fashioned bristle-brush, on the sink in the mini-bathroom. It lacks ambience, as its occupant is only marginally here, even when present.
He has begun to give thought to at least putting something on the walls. Sex Pistols posters - something. And maybe getting a bean bag or two. He's torn between trying to develop the personality of his flat, and working on his own.
*It's been - gods, he hasn't a clue, but more years than he ever thought he see as an adult, at any rate. Still, given the Rookou estate income, this has hardly been a blip in his finances, just keeping the landlord sweet. And now, in London, away from the mantle and the pressures of dealing with Archie, maybe he can begin to get his head straight.*
*Since there are only a handful of people who know about this place, and they're probably split fairly evenly between friends and foes, possible even a majority frenemies, he approaches the door carefully. The various Dark wards he has set up haven't been triggered, and the Foe Glass is clear, so . . . he opens the door. Then he raises an eyebrow - just the one.* "Well, the fridge is restocked, so your timing's impeccable."
*He surveys this scene of unbridled domesticity and consults his internal calendar for anything similar logged against today. Finding nothing, he gives a half-shrug, and activates the Undetectable Extension charm which gives him a separate dining area, rather than what the bedsit generally has to make do with, and looks enquiringly at his hostess, to see what she needs from him.*
"And here was me thinking was no actual end to your talents, given the rescue work, B&E, interrogation and other skills already showcased. I'm flattered by the company, intrigued by the food, which both looks and smells good, though I have no basis of comparison for - whatever it is, and curious why you would return. I mean, you left here trailing the distinct impression that you anticipated entrapment."
*In a musing tone.* "Not 'any woman', I don't believe, but there is something wonderfully . . . piquant about watching you rise to the bait. And yes, I'm more than aware that the Headmaster would in all probability have pulled my bacon out of the flames also, but he didn't. You did. I, for one, and despite my habitual needling, am most grateful you turned up when you did."
*Despite, or perhaps because of, the difficulty with which his words emerge, he's obviously given this much thought.* "Well, it's funding and infrastructure are in place, so it should be able to function as a semi-autonomous adjunct to the Ministry with little difficulty. That's my hope, anyway. As for me . . . that's a far more complex question. I fear I unleashed a firestorm on certain bridges before I left, and their renovation will take more than a simple 'Reparo!'."
"If Kalia's inclined there's no one more suited, or who's given more to and for the cause. If her daughters, what with them having just left Hogwarts, are a higher priority, I may offer it to my half-brother or sister."
"Well, that at least is indisputable - you lead, I follow. I'm just wondering how long we're going to keep chasing around in these ever-decreasing circles. Among the many failures of the Muggles analytical thinking is not one, and the Markov chain you currently have wrapped round my neck is less than the most pleasant of leashes."