Draco Malfoy woke up in his flat in a cold sweat; images from the war and all that led up to it had been plaguing his sleep. He ran a hand through his unkempt blonde hair, shaking off what he could of the unpleasant memories. Unfortunately, with them flew away the last chances he had of getting any more sleep that night. Even though it had been six years since that day that ended the war with the death of Voldemort, nights like this were not uncommon for anyone, let alone Draco. His almost-role in Dumbledore's death had bothered him for more nights than he was likely to admit, and so had thoughts of Voldemort in his own home, threatening his family, himself, and anyone or anything he appeared close to.

With a huge, releasing sigh, Draco pulled himself out of bed. He fumbled for a moment on the bedside table before his fingers closed around his wand. He muttered a quick "lumos" before padding as quietly as he could to the bathroom. The flat below had a small dog who was annoying at the best of times, but at night the thing had the hearing of a bat, and the smallest noise would get it to barking incessantly. With a glance at the clock, he realized it was later than he thought, thank Merlin for that. The hand on the wizarding clock was somewhere towards the end of the section that Blaise had jokingly added, marked "quiet reflection." Blaise Zabini knew his best friend well, and he knew that most days, Draco woke up around the three o'clock mark, despite not needing to be up until closer to five.

Today, he counted himself lucky. He would need all the sleep he could get before heading into the office. He decided to spend the last bit of his "quiet reflection" time in the worn leather recliner in his living room. In his hands, he held a chipped mug full of muggle instant coffee. So much had changed about Draco Malfoy. Gone was the egotistical, spoiled, rich little prat that everyone thought they knew at Hogwarts. The man slowly sipping his coffee was infinitely older; at least psychologically. He had grown into someone who knew no boundaries between classes. Muggles were no longer filth, and he wasn't so sure that he had ever actually believed that they were. The word "mudblood" was part of a foolish, cruel little boy's vocabulary, and had no place in the words of the man in the chair.

He was 24, and he was a force to be reckoned with. He had honed many skills, and had spent a good deal of time in a muggle gym honing his body as well. But the most sharp of his assets was his mind. He hadn't been second in their year for nothing. But he was also a Slytherin. He was a master in the art of cunning, one that would have made his father proud.

What would not have made his father proud, however, was what he had done with the Malfoy fortune. As soon as the war ended, he had surrendered every single knut and property to the ministry, besides a comparatively small sum that he used to open the business he had now, ironically in wizarding investments. He had cooperated fully, answering every question asked of him with honesty. It had been his information that had brought down the resistance there at the end. Because of that, his "donation" to the ministry, and the fact that he lowered his wand rather than kill Dumbledore, he had been let go with full amnesty.

It was after that pardon that he bought the little shop in Diagon Alley, remodeled the entire thing into very classy, high end offices, and set about trying to find someone to run it with him. He had hoped for a partnership with Blaise, but his dark Italian friend wasn't really ready for responsibility or commitment. Draco had shrugged it off, clapping Blaise on the shoulder, saying, "Hey, everyone grieves their own way." Blaise sometimes hated how shrewd and perceptive his friend was.

After much searching, Draco found Harper Camden. She was young, beautiful, highly intelligent, and a pureblood. Draco didn't care that she was a pureblood, really, but it helped that every pureblood child learns early on how to handle the family estates. Harper was also American, which meant that she knew how to handle things from a different angle. That had been the advantage Draco needed to get ahead, as more and more of the old wizarding families were finally branching out into some international and muggle investment options.

But now, Harper was leaving. She had been offered a job at the Quibbler, of all places. After the war, zany old Xenophilius Lovegood had gained in popularity. Everyone wanted to read the paper that had reported the truth. One afternoon, he had come into the office, looking to figure out exactly what his fortune had come to, and Harper had suggested a column on international affairs. Something, she said, that would let everyone know what is going on in the other wizarding communities, so that England wasn't so cut off from the rest of the world. Xeno had hired her on the spot as his travelling reporter, offering her a salary almost twice what Draco was able to offer her.

Draco wasn't about to begrudge her of the dream she had told him about long before, and so his only request was that she find her own replacement. He had taken over all of the accounts for the time being, allowing her time to interview candidates and work out the details of her new position. It was tiring, overseeing so many accounts and trying to fit them all into an already very busy schedule. He would be glad to get the replacement in the office and ready to handle some of the accounts on her own. Harper had thrown him into a frenzy when she had sent him an owl the other day saying:

Draco-

Stop bugging me, will you? I've found her. But I'm not telling

you who she is! You will find out when she gets there on

Thursday. She's a little... unorthodox. But don't you dare

fire her! You wanted someone who would look at things from

a new perspective like I did. This girl is it, Draco. She's a genius.

Whatever past misconceptions you have about her, forget them.

I'm not even kidding. You need to give her a chance. She's going

to do big things for business. I would stake my life on it. Just

give her six months. If it's not working for you then, we'll talk.

-Harper

Draco was not happy about waiting. He knew the girl? "Past misconceptions. Who the hell could she be? It had better not be Pansy or one of the Greengrass girls," he thought to himself angrily. He looked back up at the clock and figured that it was late enough to start getting ready for work. Begrudgingly, he apparated to work and went into Harper's office to look over the easier files that they had chosen to get the new girl acclimated.

After a few minutes, he felt someone watching him, and turned to see her standing there. Her blonde curls were half up, held back with a beautiful comb. She was smiling a half smile full of wonder at him, peering through thick, odd, brightly colored glasses. Dangling from her ears were radishes, of all things. Her hippie skirt was in earth tones of brown and green, and the fitted white, short sleeved blouse accentuated slight curves he had never noticed in Hogwarts. He looked down at her feet to note with relief that she was indeed wearing shoes. Or boots, rather. They were brown leather, went up her calves to fold over at the top, and over the leg of them were thin belts of bronze chain and the same leather of the boots. On her tiny little wrists were bangles. Lots of them.

She raised one pale eyebrow at him and chuckled, a full, melodic, spritely sound. It hit him in the gut, twisting his insides as memories of this same girl came back to him. She had been in his father's dungeon with old Ollivander and a few others. Never once did her spirit break, no matter what any of the Death Eaters did to her. She was beautiful even then, when she was malnourished, dirty, and beaten. But it was her unwavering faith in all things good that had gotten to him then. And now, to hear that sound that had haunted him in that place; the sound of a light in captivity trying desperately to shine bright enough for herself and the others. And to hear it in his office? It was unnerving.

She tilted her head, watching the emotions play across his usually stoic face. Eventually, she held out a hand to him, her smile growing. When she opened her mouth to speak, it wasn't quite the voice he remembered. The voice had matured. Hell, it ought to have. She had been 16 then. Now, the voice was older, but it was no less airy and bright.

With that somehow-still-innocent smile on her face, she greeted him softly and happily. "Hello, Draco."

Luna Lovegood was Harper's replacement.