As a child and teenager I was nothing but a copy of my father. Judged before I was known and know only as the son of a Malfoy. Nothing more, nothing less. From birth expected to be a true pureblood. Everyone knew I would become a death eater. Just like father. They never got to know the real me, then one who only did it to please said father. Not because he wanted to serve the dark lord.
I regret that choice even now. After all I only did it to please the man, a man who cared nothing for me.
Now I am scarred with the dark mark. Disgracing my body and soul. Now ever time my robe slides down my arm or when I go to have a shower or bath, it mocks me. Reminding me of my poor choice, of the person I once was. That little boy bent on satisfying his father.
I am no longer that person. After the war I was believed to be dead. I happily left it that way. I changed my name, first and last. I also got a job at Flourish & Blotts. The old man who now owns it, thought I was a boy made an orphan by the war. I lit him believe this.
Now I was nothing but a young adult. Just a face in the crowed. Nothing but a glint in the corner of a mans eye. I'm free to live my life the way I want to, not as a Malfoy, but simple a boy.
The dead mans new life.
It's five in the morning and pouring down with rain, but that does not stop Diagon Alley from being pack like it was the most famous players in quiditch having it out.
I try to make my way through the public, weaving and dodging as I go. My hood is up and my face low, so I don't get wet. It's not that I hate rain; it's the effects after standing in the rain. I love the feeling of the rain sliding down my skin but loathe the coldness that lingers after.
I reach the little book shop where I work now and push the door open. The bell chimes as I enter. The warm air hits me immediately; I feel the warmth take a hold of me.
I search the room for the owner of the shop and see none. "Frank?" I call out. I receive no answer. "Frank? Where are you?" I know frank is not a young man, but he would never leave the door open.
"Over here, Damian." Comes a hoarse voice from the storage room.
That is my name now, Damian oak. I didn't change my appearance or anything; I still have the same blond hair and silver eyes. I did lie about my age, everyone believes I am two months older then I really am.
I walk out to where the voice came from. I see frank. His gray hair is gel back like I once had it, my hair is short again and I now lit it fall freely. The man's face is pointed and his nose is broad and he has thick eyebrows.
He seems to be sorting out a cheek list. He glances over his shoulder to me and smiles, the wrinkle around his mouth deepen. "Thanks once again for coming in so early to help." I give a simple nod. Frank pushes his self up with a small groan while holding his back. He shakes his head and says to me "I'm not as young as I used to be." With a small chuckle.
"The holiday should do you some good, sir." I say. The man nods and mutters a 'yes' as he walks pass me into the other room. I follow.
He glances over his shoulder once more and asks. " Are you sure you can come here and open and close the shop?" I nod. "Yes, well, I'm going to hire someone else to help out."
"But Frank, I don't need help." I'm not letting someone help me. Draco Malfoy does not accept help, and nether does Damian Oak.
He turns around. "I know that my boy…It's just that…" He trails off, and his eyes drift to the floor.
"It's just what?" He gives a long sigh. He looks at me with big, brown, sad eyes.
"Damian, I'm not going to be around forever." I feel my heart twist in pain just by thinking about his death.
Frank's become…like…a father to me.
Lucius, my dad, was never truly much of one. The only time he ever shown interest in me, is when I got first or best in something. I was always second for grades, apart from potions, and our team always were next in line to win the quiditch cup. If I got second I received a slap across the back of my head and, an extremely boring lecture. If I obtain first, a pat on the back and a rant about how I was better then that 'Mud-blood' and how the dark lord would be proud of me.
"So that's why. I'm giving you the shop when I go so…" I stare at him, shocked.
"You're giving me the shop?" I ask. He smiles at me and nods then says.
"I don't have any children Damien, so…I thought, after everything you went through during the war, it the lest you deserve." I glance down at the floor sadly. If only he knew.
"Frank…" I start with a sigh. "I am not worthy of your kindness" I really don't believe I am any more. After what my father did in the war…and what I did. I feel his hands on my shoulders and I gaze up at him.
"Oh, but Damien, you are. From what I have seen of you, even if everyone else in the word hated you, I would still think you deserve this." It's like he read my mind.
"Thank you." Is all I can say. His smile widens.
"You're welcome." He says simple.
I can feel the sun on my back as I close the shop. More people inhabit the streets now. I try to make my way through the crowd. After a long struggle I arrive at the Leaky Cauldron and push the door open.
As I walk into the bars atmosphere I smell alcohol and smoke wash over me. I scan the room looking for a certain black headed boy.
"Hey Damien. Over 'ere mate." I hear a deep voice call out to me. I look to my left to see a tall, tan, boy waving at me with a big grin on his face. I walk over to the boy and take a set. "I got you a drink okay." I nod and mutter a thanks.
The two of us sit and simple talk about are day and other stuff.
Some hours later the door opens and a cold breeze blows past us, coursing me to shiver slightly as it shifts along my neck. I pay no heed to the people who enter and carry on talking. Then, I hear that voice, those voices I hoped I would never hear again, the golden, bloody trio.
"Hey, Tom" Ron says. "you two go get a set and I order the drinks, the same as always?"
Out of the corner of my eye I see Potter and Granger move to an empty table. One of them stops.
"What is it Hermione?" Potter asks. She mumble a nothing and then says.
"See that boy over there? He looks a lot like Malfoy…do you think…?"
"Hermione. Malfoy died in the war." His voice is slightly lowered, but I hear no sadness. "Why would it matter? You hate Malfoy remember." She mutters a 'yeah' and they both wander of to the table. I realise a breath I did not know I was holding.
"So, Hermione do you know what you are doing to make the money?" even half way across the room a can still here his annoying voice.
"Hey, Damien. Didn't you say Frank was hiring?" I nod, I don't like where this is going. If I protest in any way it would seem odd. So I lit the events unfold.
"Hey miss!" Jimmy calls across the room turning many heads. The men turn around and mutter something under there breath and some girls giggle. I flinch, why did he have to do that?
Her brown eyes look at him with interest.
"I hear you want a job." He yells across the room. More people stare. I feel my face go red and I slouch down in the chair. Damn man.
"My friend 'ere" he says waving a finger above my head. "Boss want to hire someone" he then adds "He works at Flourish & Blotts, interested?" I stare at the table. She seems to think it over then says.
"Ok, I'll be over tomorrow to get a form and what not. Is that OK?"
"I don't know. Is it?" Assuming he asked me I glance up and give an acute nod. He grins.
"Yep!" once again, Damn man.