Draco Malfoy gladly made his way down the large hall surrounded by desks, and doors, and cubicles, and people scattered about. His fine cut Italian robes, sleek hair and polished shoes- you could tell right away who he was, no doubt- even if he had returned after his extensive stay in Spain. Four thousand, three hundred and eighty three days. That was the last time he had actually stepped on British territory. His mother had literally dragged his father and him away from the chaos that erupted when everyone realized the famous Harry Potter was not, in fact-dead, but much, much alive.
His family decided to retreat into hiding, to finally exclude them from the chaos they helped to create. He was eighteen then, scared out of his wits on the outcome of the war, and confused on what to think on which side he was finally on. He had watched the foolish Dark Lord rise to power, watch him kill innocent people with different blood. He had watched people die for no good reason. That was what he hated the most about the past war-how blood affected the future on whether you would live or not. The war was for blood. Drunk with power and the thirst for innocent blood, the Dark Lord had failed. So the Malfoy family retreated. To Spain, where for twelve years, he would attempt to fix his monstrous temper and tampered fear.
Those twelve years, he would repeatedly be asked to date and to marry such ghastly women his mother would set him with. In those twelve years, he would still have that shit temper of his and he will still be the same. His father would also demand he take over the Malfoy Apothecary business. But, in those twelve years, he would realize that Spain was not his home, and that this war, gave him the opportunity to make his life his, and not his parent's. He would realize that for his age of twenty nine, he looked better and didn't need a woman. He realized his spiteful attitude will still linger because that's who he is. And he will return to Britain because that was his home.
So, there he was, standing in front of a circular desk with an obnoxious secretary intern with a name tag JANICE written on it. She would greet him with the scripted greeting, and ask of his name. But he does not answer with his name, but for a Mr. Kingsley Shacklebolt with an angry expression. The secretary will stare for a moment before she would nod and quickly call for him.
The tall, lean looking wizard now stood, his elbow propped on the circulation desk as he waited for the baboon of a secretary to return from fetching the Minister from his office. He stared at the wall behind the desk, framed pictures of employees hung proudly on the wall- moving and jaunty like. He carefully eyed each one; some were pictures of promoted employees, some of them in groups and smiles plastered on their faces. As his eyes moved on from the one with a fairly bald man holding up a certificate, he felt his breath caught in his windpipe. He stared. Glasses, red hair, cinnamon eyes. Ah yes, he scornfully thought.
The Trio just never seems to die out, don't they? His eyes focused on the description on the picture above. Ministry's new Aurors and Legislator. He stared at the picture of the three happy-go-lucky group, until his eyes fell on a familiar Hermione Granger. Her eyes were still filled with some sort of happiness- and relief, after the war ended. Her hair now concluded to waves instead of bushy curls, the apples of her cheeks a rosy pink. For a mudblood, she did grow up to become fairly quite lovely looking. The three were smiling- no, not three of them, two of them- clearly excited to be alive-no, lucky. Not a smiling Hermione Granger- but it was slights the obvious she was trying to smile and feel proud. By the looks of a ghastly looking Ronald Weasley with his arm around her waist, and a stiff posture, Draco felt sorry for the Hermione Granger who probably had decided to marry him- probably out of pity.
It was not until Draco realized his name was being called after a big haired secretary- Janice, had stepped in front of him.
"Mr. Shacklebolt's waiting for you in that conference room-" she points to a door across the large room and clears her throat. "-if you need anything else, I'm available." But Draco paid no mind to her, instead, he turned on his heel and strutted to the door, his postures fixed and chin up. When he manages to get the door open wide enough, he is greeted by a tall man in blue trademark robes- along with a red weasel and a familiar glasses-wearing hero.
"Mr. Malfoy, it's a pleasure to be seeing you on this lovely morning." Mr. Shacklebolt greeted standing up from his main chair to shake Draco's hand. "I'm sure you've met Mr. Harry Potter and Weasley? You three were bound to have been in the same year." the redhead could only reply to the Minister with a yes, glaring at Draco, as if he had turned into the deceased Dark Lord. It was obvious tension struck within the room once the blond had been greeted, but he could care less for the two- and matter of fact, why should he? They meant nothing to him.
"I presume you have taken up on the offer as becoming a Head Auror?" Mr. Shacklebolt had his hands propped on the table, eyeing the wizard who sat in front of him with wary eyes. Draco nodded and cleared his throat.
"I concluded my work in Spain as Auror and when I returned, an Auror by the name of Blaise Zabini who was being stationed abroad, mentioned Mr. Potter's position being opened." he said, seeing the dimwitted red headed weasel's stare being rather dull than intimidating. Draco could only do so much but giving the two peas-in-a-pod his priceless smirk to throw them off. "I was sure this was-fate, calling me." he drawls. He looks back at Mr. Shacklebolt and studies his expression. His eyes looked tired. He definitely needed a drink- or some sleep. But the middle aged man in dark blue robes simply nods and speaks about the Auror routines, the duties of being Head, and babbling about how Mr. Potter is to become professor for the Defense Against the Dark Arts in the repaired Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry-so it was great how Draco had even shown up in time to claim the position. If the meeting couldn't get any more extensive, Potter and Weasley were practically staring him down, as if they were trying to practice non-verbal incantations on him. It was a long twenty minutes before the door had busted open, followed by a heaving breath.
The Magical Creatures act has been accepted into drafting-" the voice was familiar, too familiar. Draco Malfoy found himself looking up from his trance and staring at the familiar girl with frantic auburn eyes that were staring directly back at him, and surprisingly tamed- chestnut colored hair. It none other than was Hermione Granger.
Just with those few seconds of just seeing her, those twelve years seemed to rewind and take his thought back to that day.
"You stole it! I know you did! Where did you find it!" the extremely bushy haired woman had screeched, her nail dug deep into the defenseless girl's cheek. "Tell me the truth you lying wench!"
"We...we didn't take-take anything!" her sobs were completely unbearable to even hear, let alone the picture that was processed into Draco's young mind. His father had commanded him to stay in the room with him while his mother went to send the redhead and the scar-head to the dungeons to await the Dark Lord's arrival to rid of them. Draco's mind was clouded with vigorous thoughts, majority scenarios of what would happen if the Dark Lord were to finally rid of Harry Potter and his trio right then and there in the Malfoy Manor. His thoughts broke off when he heard a ear wrenching scream pulse throughout the dim lit room. His eyes wander to the scene of his aunt pinning down the body bound girl on the floor, screams wavered throughout the room."I'll give you one last chance, you filthy, no-good excuse for a life, Mudblood!" his aunt had yelled, drowning the whimpering screams that hung in the girl's mouth.
"I told you, I- we, didn't take anything!" was her same answer that she had repeated to the insane woman perched on top of her. That was the final straw for Draco's aunt, he saw. He watched his aunt pin her foot on the squirming body, and lay herself on top of her. He watched when she had grabbed that dagger that she had used to kill previous people- previous Mudbloods.
He watched when she had taken the dagger and carefully pierced the skin of the screaming girl. Draco just watched. Because at that moment it was all he could do- was watch. The action of her legs kicking and trying to set free. Her aunt forcing her weight on her while she still carved- blood tricking about the tip of the dagger. Another blood curdling scream pounded against Draco's ear drums. But he swallowed his fear, and he swallowed his somewhat pride, and waited while his aunt brought herself up to a stance again and laughing maniacally, a sly smile plastered on her face so that you could see her near rotting teeth.
"Rid of her. I want the redhead next." she said to her nephew, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Do not disappoint me."
"You must know Draco Malfoy, don't you?" Mr. Shacklebolt asks, his hand gesturing to the blond. She tore her gaze from his and looked at the dark skinned man and shook her head.
"No, I can't say I don't." her voice monotone and shaken with obvious anger, but obviously not to Mr. Shacklebolt. "Sir, the council requests your presence to trial for the new Magical Creatures Act. It's urgent." she says.
With a reluctant sigh, Mr. Shacklebolt replies, "Very well. Excuse me, gentlemen, Miss Granger." he scoots out of his seat. "Please, stay until you have Mr. Malfoy fill out the required files to be put into the Ministry. Malfoy, the second part of the form, you may fill at home. Return it in the morrow." he says, then with a nod, he passes by Hermione and the door shuts. The tension starts to erupt into the thick nauseate. Ron stands from his seat, mumbling something about how stupid he thought this whole thing was- and then says something about the blond that sat in front of him but before he does, Hermione is slowly backing herself away from the room.
"Ah ah ah, Weasley. Sit. Stay." Draco commanded, propping his elbows on the table. "I have files to fill."
"No, Malfoy, you don't. You need to leave." Ron retorted angrily, quickly sitting himself down with a thump. "Whatever you intend on doing here, you need to leave."
"That's no way to treat a colleague, don't you think?"
"Bullshit, Malfoy. You're no one to us. Where ever you came from, you should go back, if you know it's for the best-"
"Weasley I highly doubt that you even know why I'm back in London, so you should keep your foul mouth shut-"
"The last thing these people need is a sodding coward who runs away from his problems and doesn't realize the shit he's fucking-"
"Ron, don't you dare-!
"No, Hermione." the way he spoke her name was bitter- sounding almost poisonous on his tongue. "This- this bloke doesn't even know have the shit he's put everyone through- even you, and he needs to know before he can think he can waltz back into London as if everything was fine-"
"Listen up you fucking twat." Draco spat angrily, standing up and slamming his hands on the table. "You don't know half the truth, so you should sit down and do your goddamn job. I've done so many things that I highly regret and I realize my actions in these years, but the last thing I need from a complete arse like yourself, is an opinion with no sense behind it-"
"You- you ruined everything! You, you ran away like the coward you are and look where you are now. Low-life -and shame upon your stupid family. You'll always be an insensible Death Eater just thirsty for blood just like you're damned fath-"
"Ron, I think that's enough-" Harry cut in. The redhead's face was redder than his hair, his chest huffing. Draco's calmed sat himself down, blood boiling and having an extreme urge to draw his wand to hex the Weasel's face into boils. His hands drawled into fists. Harry Potter, had his eyes wildly roaming, as if he was trying to think. His body was tense, but at least he didn't intend to open his mouth and sputter something else that would cause more chaos.
He pulls some papers from a box that sat on the table and slid them across the table, turned over for Draco to peer at. The tension still lingered, Ron still stood, fists clenched and hovering over the table. Hermione had left in the middle of the quarrel unnoticed, leaving Harry to control the situation-which he did.
"Just fill the papers in and turn them in tomorrow." he said, clearing his throat. He stood up, the chair scratching against the wooden floor. Before he turned to push the still angry Ron Weasley, he nodded his head at the blond. "It's...It's weird seeing you again, Malfoy. Welcome back, I guess." the raven haired young man said, and then he put his hands on the sweltering weasel, who kept his glare. "Would you shut up and move!" he muttered, and then shoved his best friend out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
Stress knotted into Draco's limbs. He stared at the paper and the quill and ink that sat across from him. He brought himself to filling out the paper in a moment's time. After those twelve years, he will be still known as the Death Eater- the person people would fear- now, look down upon.
{ Hello! So this is my first Dramione story, and I know it's short, but hey, i think it's a pretty okay start. Future chapters will be posted longer. Okay, thanks~ }