[C] The Painted Owl

"I will keep my hands to myself."

He walked around the shop, stopping when one would catch his eye. He would study it for a while and then moved on. They were just as brilliant as the quill and book. This shop shouldn't belong here but in Diagon Alley. It was defiantly on par with the work there - maybe even more so.

He partially like the lizard perched on a branch. It looked like a dragon, but he knew it was not. It was no type of dragon he knew of. It was probably just a common, normal lizard. Yet it stood out the most among the fantastic beasts.

It didn't take long for Fleck to return.

His dress had changed now. His hair wasn't tied back, but instead flowed over his shoulders in thick waves. Worn like this, you couldn't see that a large portion of his hair was shaved off.

His red robes were changed now for the same sinfully tight cut robes in a purple colour so deep that it looked black apart from the few threads that caught the light, which shined a lovely aubergine colour.

The dragon wasn't present now, and neither was the elf owl that had perched on his shoulder earlier.

Fleck's robes were gorgeous. He took a moment to admire him before snapping his eyes away. He didn't want to be that guy. Although he now felt a little shabby in his brown ones.

"Ready to go?"

"Si."

His robes swished around his feet as he approached the large owl sat on her perch.

"You look after the shop, Hera. I'll be back later."

He leaned over to press a kiss to her head before stepping up to Dick.

He smiled as Fleck leaned down to kiss his owl on the head. It was cute.

"Let's go then."

He lead the way, opening the door out onto the quiet street. He pulled his robe closer around his body. Within the few minutes he was in the shop the temperature has considerately dropped.

"I hope your robe is warm enough."

Fleck hardly seemed affected at all by the cold weather outside as the door to his shop swung closed behind him. With a flick of his wrist, he warded the door; something he always did when he left the shop.

"It is much colder where I went to school."

Italy was hot, but Norway was much colder than Scotland. This sort of weather hardly affected him at all.

"Durmstrang?"

A school colder then Hogwarts? It was easy to assume which.

It took him by surprise though. With his (Italian? Spanish?) accent, he would of thought Fleck would of gone to Beauxbatons. That was where the majority of southern Europeans seemed to go.

"Si. Durmstrang is not a school for the cold blooded."

If Beauxbaton took students from Italy, he certainly would have gone to that school, but the French school only took students from certain countries, and Italy was not one of those countries. Durmstrang took in stuents from all over Europe, so he had attended that school instead.

A good part of him was pleased with that turn of events. Durmstrang had done a lot to shape who he was.

Dick wasn't particularly keen on the cold. Then again he wasn't too keen on the sweltering heat either. He was truly a southern Englishmen.

"What is it like there? At Durmstrang? Other then cold."

"It is like any school. Strict at times, but also fun. You make friend and family. It's a good place."

He thoroughly enjoyed his time at Durmstrang. It had made him a better man, he was certain.

"I am certain it has it's quirks that no other school has."

It would be interesting to compare his time at Hogwarts and Fleck's time at Durmstrang. When he thought about it, he didn't think he ever met anyone from Durmstrang.

"What made you decided to come here then? Especially with all that has happened."

He checked over his shoulder again.

"In all the years that I have been alive, I had never spent much time getting to know my father's family."

He reached up to tuck a lock of bleached hair behind his ear.

"Since I have finished my schooling, and chose not to chase a career in Quidditch, I thought to connect more with his heritage. Here is where his mother lived before taking her home in the very south of England."

"If you came here to connect to your heritage then there is no better place. It is a pretty close knit community here."

Being a teacher at Hogwarts he would often come down with the other staff and socialise with the locals. Everyone knew everyone's business..

"So you played quidditch? What did you play?"

"It has been a lovely place to live for the past few years." The last few years had treated him very kindly here in the village.

"Can you not guess?" Fleck asked with a teasing smile as he flicked his wrist, opening the doors to the inn with a flourish of wandless magic. Being able to move things with his magic had made him rather lazy at times.

He gestured for Dick to enter the inn first.

Dick's blue eyes studied Fleck. He was tall, but not particularly tall. He was also fairly broad - Dick was sure their was muscle under that robe that made his mind wonder to less then pure thoughts.

"I am guessing beater. If not, a chaser then. I will buy you a drink if I am wrong."

A crooked grin stretched Fleck's lips.

"You owe me a drink," he informed his companion with a little laugh.

People always assumed that, because of his build, he was the powerhouse of the team; the beater.

Those people seemed to forget that there was an even more demanding position on the team; one that a well-built man like himself excelled at.

Dick huffed. He was sure he got it right.

"Keeper, then?"

He made his way through through the pub, towards the bar. Even at it's quietest it was busy.

"Si."

Fleck moved fluidly through the fairly large crowd in the pub. When the school was in town the place always seemed far more packed than usual.

There were too many teachers that wanted a moment to relax.

"I'll have a hot chocolate for that drink."

He was glad he got it right the third time around.

"Sure thing. Do you want to grab a table while I grab the drinks then? I think there is a table over there free."

He nodded in the direction where the table was, standing on the tips of his toes to get a better look.

"Si. I'll see you in a moment."

He patted Dick's shoulder before weaving gracefully through the crowd towards the free table.

He turned to the bar and ordered the drinks. Madam Rosmerta gave him a raised eyebrow and an approving look. Dick couldn't help but flush and return her an embarrassed smile.

Ten minutes later he made his way through the crowd, holding an enchanted tray (ensuring that their drinks won't spill). He was thankful he picked one up as he was accidently shoved this way and that.

He placed the tray on the table. One hot chocolate for Fleck and one butterbeer for himself. Dick would have preferred a firewhisky, but if Fleck wasn't drinking, neither would he.

"I said yes to everything, I hope there is nothing on there that you don't like."

"My sweet tooth knows no bounds."

He stuck his finger in the cream and stuck it in his mouth.

He loved all the sickeningly sweet additions to hot chocolate. He was notorious for eating and drinking things that would have people's teeth rotting at a glance.

"We should get along splendidly then."

Dick himself was a sweet fan He never ate much but when he did it was always sweets. As a child, it would always give himself toothaches and his mother headaches. He was pretty sure that the majority of his teeth had to be regrown.

He took a sip of his butterbeer and let out a noise of approval. The Three Broomsticks' always does the best.

"So tell me, where are you from? I can't quite place your accent."

"An accent is hard to place when there are three influences to it."

His lips turned up into a crooked smile.

"I was born on an Italian island. Sicily. I have heard people call it the ball, as if that is what they learned. Can you tell me why that is?" Geography wasn't one of Fleck's strong suits and the childish 'boot and the ball' explanation for Italy and its islands was lost on him.

He knew where Italy was. But Sicily?

Dick shook his head.

"Sorry, I can't think of why. I am guessing maybe because the island is shaped like a ball?"

Like Fleck, world geography was not his strongest point. Yet he could pinpoint where the most obscure wizarding village is on a map of the UK.