Chapter Text
Draco opened his eyes. The wall in front of him was white, blank except for green lettering:
“Welcome! Everything is fine.”
Draco was immediately suspicious. Odd for a wall to offer reassurances out of the blue like that. Why would this wall think he would think he WASN’T fine? Was he fine? What did the wall know?
He took a deep breath to steady himself. Just then, to his right, a door opened and a tall woman with dazzlingly perfect hair leaned through the frame.
“Draco Malfoy? Come on in.”
It was a lot to process, frankly. That he’d been killed in a Muggle bus crash, of all things, after everything that hadn’t killed him - that alone was quite a concept. To accept in addition not only that there was a “Good Place,” some sort of perfect paradise for those who died with their heads held high and their souls intact, but also that he – Draco Lucius Malfoy, marked Death Eater, child bully, occasional stealer of shop counter quills – had been judged worthy of such a place, well, it was almost too good to believe.
So Draco didn’t believe it, but quietly. After all, it was terribly rude to correct people, and this Tahani seemed perfectly happy to believe Draco belonged here. They were mid-tour of the beautiful little town that comprised living spaces, restaurants, shops, and entertainment for several thousand recently-departed souls. Currently Tahani was gesturing to a charming little eatery, while Draco nodded, smiled, and inwardly fretted.
Not only was he not sure he really belonged here, but Tahani had yet to mention the erumpent in the room. The woman was clearly a Muggle, and Draco was wearing a very nicely tailored set of linen robes in Prussian blue, and no one had mentioned magic at all. He could feel his wand-holster against his leg, a comforting weight that was helping tamp down the sense-memories of being wandless after the War.
“Janet?” Tahani abruptly interrupted herself. Between them, a woman Apparated - or at least appeared out of thin air, with a pleasant bing! instead of a swirl and a crack, was ANYTHING here just NORMAL - and greeted Tahani brightly.
“Hi!”
“Oh, Janet, yes, hello. Can you take Draco here to his new flat? I have to meet with the Committee later and I’m behind on The Witcher and you know how the Judge gets…”
“Yes, I do,” Janet said smoothly. Then, as an aside to Draco, she added, “I know everything,” as if clarifying a minor detail. Draco said, “Mmm!” and desperately hoped there would be no follow-up questions.
The flat was nice. The flat was beyond nice. The flat was perfect. It was beautifully appointed in a way that felt rich without being formal or stuffy. There was a pair of delicate armchairs in a bay window that would catch the morning sun, with a little table placed between them perfectly to hold a cup of tea and a book when Draco put them down to people-watch on the street below.
Or, when someone put them down, someone else, because there was no way that this flat could be meant for him, really. There was no jar of floo powder on the mantle, no wandrest built into the bedside table, and on top of that many things seemed to operate via electricity buttons. It wasn’t meant for a wizard. Draco wasn’t panicking because Malfoys did not panic, but he’d never before been so glad for a lifetime of schooling his facial expression and his thoughts. And he’d spent several years living with a homicidal lunatic who could talk to snakes, so that was saying something.
Janet left after assuring him that he could contact her at any point by saying her name, and Draco promised her he would while silently resolving never to say anything even close to her name ever, just in case, and she bing!ed away and he was alone.
She’d recommended he visit a couple of places when he was ready – a bookshop, the small cafe below his flat, and another resident a few blocks away. This person had apparently lived in the same area as Draco had on Earth and Janet thought they might get along.
He was anything but ready, to do anything, but also he did not want to raise any alarms. Visiting someone was the best way to keep up the appearance of normalcy and belonging, a lesson he’d learned at his mother’s knee. So Draco picked up a bottle of wine from the extremely well-stocked selection in his - someone’s - the flat and set off toward the address Janet had provided.
The flowers were all in bloom as he walked, though some of them Draco felt sure should not be able to coexist in the same garden. After a few minutes of extremely beautiful and satisfying strolling, during which time he was greeted pleasantly by several passers-by, he found himself outside the gate of a two-story rowhouse. The first floor was a furniture shop, or perhaps a woodworking studio. Its front windows were filled with lovely chairs and tables, at any rate, and dozens and dozens of fragrant pink lilies bloomed just outside.
Draco followed his instructions around the side to the flat upstairs and knocked on the door. A voice inside bid him enter. He had just enough time to register that something seemed very familiar before he saw the resident getting up from his overstuffed armchair and turning toward the door.
The welcoming smile slid right off Harry Potter’s face.