Tomorrow's Child
By Tubbataha
Disclaimer: None of recognisable characters are mine they belong to JK Rowling and neither is the city though who that belongs to is still under debate.
Hundreds of people fought there way their way across the junction just doging and weaving. Most appeared to be making good head way slipping past each other easily as if they followed some carefully choreographed pattern, whilst others who had perhaps missed a step or had their umbrella caught in the bag of a passer by, causing them to pause and loose their place in the pattern. Thus they could be seen floundering in the melee, struggling to make it across. It seemed now that they took a step forward only for it to be countered or hampered by other persons travelling the opposite way. Yet some how as the lights changed back everyone was in their proper place (or near enough) and as the traffic started to flow again they continued to wind through the crowds towards their chosen destination.
This spectacle of the modern world was missed or merely ignored by most sat in the café above the junction, they could not possibly have understood the fascination it held to one of there fellow patrons. He sat staring in fascination out of the window, his cup a highly over priced coffee rapidly cooling on the table in front due only in part to the overly cold air blasting out of the air conditioning system. Whilst this system cool air (all be it a bit too cold) was also a source of intrigue to him he was currently held in awe by the simple movement and coordination of the large numbers of cars and people.
How had muggles managed this? How could this whole thing like so many others be carried out without the aid of magic? He simply couldn't get his head around it; sure there were the posts which had different coloured lights (traffic lamps or something he had heard some one call them) These were to tell people when to stop and go.
On a side note he had since learnt that those lights just like all the other lights in the muggle world were powered by something they called electricity. This electricity thing all though he didn't exactly understand what it was, he had discerned that muggles seemed to use it to for fulfil the tasks that wizards would simply use magic for. However there appeared to be more to it then that electricity was both so much more then magic yet so much less. In fact trying to figure it out had done nothing but give him a headache, so he had moved away form that topic and was now pondering a more fundamental one. Who controls the lights?
This would seem like such a simple question to be considering one that a child of 6 rather then 16 would be expected to be thinking about. In all fairness he had had about as much experience of the muggle world as a young child would have had. He was quickly finding though that things were not as he expected and that, all though he was not yet ready to admit it to anyone (especially that know it all Granger) he was being to have a grudging respect for muggles and maybe perhaps he would re evaluate his position on some of this.
This however did not mean he was suddenly going to become a muggle loving fool like that stupid weasel. It did appear that there may be some muggles that were worthwhile; this said he still saw plenty within muggles and their society to support his disparaging attitude towards muggles.
No he would never love muggles nor would he ever consider the idea that wizards were not superior to muggles. However his experiences in this city so very far away and very different from both England and the wizarding world within it to realise that there were exceptions. He was now at least beyond calling them mudbloods, well except maybe Granger but she was Potty's friend. Yes his time here had changed him but that still didn't mean he now suddenly had to be nice to Granger and Scar Head. Still it might be amusing to watch their reactions it would throw them on the back foot and even perhaps give him the upper hand. Yes maybe he would be nice to them, perhaps throw in some references to muggle technology it would be amusing to watch weasel's look of incomprehension, Potty's righteous anger and confusion and Granger's shock that he should know of such things.
This would be a good year he told himself, this was quite a surprising statement considering the state of his outlook when the summer began. His father was imprisoned in Azkaban and his mother was in hospital recovering from result of Voldermort's tender response to his father's failure. He missed his mother and felt the pain of what had happened to her every day, she may not have been the most affectionate women but she had cared for him as a child. He was not entirely sure however how he felt about his fathers imprisonment, at first he had been angry, so very angry and at so many things. It seemed as if the world had conspired against him, now he had been convinced to make the most of this time away from his fathers shadow.
He wanted to experience every thing he could of both worlds, not that he was about to become a raging Gryffindor but he wanted to be ready so that when (not if) his father got out of jail he could make the best decision for himself. After all he wasn't the Slytherin Prince for nothing he would do what ever was best for him, though he loathed the thought of kneeling before another or following the manipulative muggle loving fool he would do what ever it took to see that his best interests were served.
Some less fortunate poor fools (normally Gryffindor's) saw this attitude as an arrogant wizarding pure blood idea; however he had since learnt that in Hong Kong every thing was completely and unremorsefully about money. That didn't mean that people were above helping other people, just that the ultimate goal and over riding ambition was the fostering of personal wealth and security, oh and having the best possible time whilst doing so. In this city those who knew how to play the game could do very well and have a lot of fun, and they did so in style. Move over New York this truly is the city that never sleeps; there is always a stock market open some where in the world to trade with or a party to be found buzzing away some where in the urban jungle.
Yes, for the first time in a long time he, Draco Malfoy was looking forward to the future and saw possibilities outside of war and pureblood ideals and he would be damned if he was just going to let them slip through his fingers. So as he stared out over the city and the people bellow he took a sip of his now cold coffee and looked forward to tomorrow.
AN: This is a new style of wiring for me so any comments or feed back would be appreciated, so please review! Currently a stand alone could possibly be continued but unsure as of yet.