Draco's flat is dark and silent when he steps onto the polished floor of the entryway and brushes off the residual soot from the Floo. His heart still races at the forbidden prize in his briefcase, but he pushes his shoulders back in defiance. He’s home now, master of his own domain. He breathes in the familiar scent of books and leather, and he relishes in the quiet offered by the thick, padded carpet and the heavy artwork on the walls.