Draco could not sleep.
The nightmares had been back. As real and vivid as always.
He was in the Room of Requirement, and everything was burning. He clung to Potter's back, watching as the towers of objects collapsed around him. The fire was spreading quickly, unbelievably quickly. He turned back, the familiar face of Vincent Crabbe, screaming as he was engulfed by flames. He reached out, but he couldn't touch him, Crabbe's face morphed, becoming white, snakelike, with those cold red eyes...the muggleborn girl, Granger was there now, and the woman in black was crouched over her, she shrieked as the woman in black cut into her. MUDBLOOD. Then there was Dumbledore, pleading, with his sad blue eyes. He reached out again, and Dumbledore was falling, flung backward. He screamed, and the air was penetrated by a cold, high pitched laugh.
Draco stood, rubbing his eyes. His mother had assured him that the nightmares would stop in time. It had been three years since the Battle of Hogwarts, and still he woke every night in a cold sweat. He went into the bathroom, dashing his face with water. A pale, yellow light was beginning to creep through the windows. He lowered his head to the cool porcelain of the sink and sighed.
"Draco?"
His mother stood in the doorway, wringing her hands worriedly. The Malfoys were still unused to their new surroundings. The manorhouse had been abandoned. Too many wicked memories. They had been lucky, he supposed. Others had gone to Azkaban, or worse. His family had retained their wealth, though none of the respect they commanded before the war. The purebloods who had sympathized with the Dark Lord saw them as traitors. The others, well, tolerated them. Everyone knew what his mother had done, that she had saved them all. She had protected Potter from the Dark Lord, saved his life. He had turned on the Death Eaters in the castle. Even his father had been allowed to remain free, though broken.
"Draco, it's only five thirty." His mother sounded strained, worried. She had held them together since the war, while he and his father were falling apart.
"He took the Mark." the wizard in the black robes had looked disgusted.
"He was SIXTEEN!" His mother cried, "He never killed anyone! Never hurt anyone! He is guilty of nothing!"
"Only cowardice." The woman beside the first judge had scoffed.
Then Potter had entered, the hero, and begged leniency. Draco stood, hollow, while his mother had wept gratefully. Potter didn't have to do that. He didn't have to tell anyone.
"I know." Draco said tiredly. "Why are you awake, mother?"
She came to him, placing a cool hand on his forehead.
"Do you feel ill?" She asked, still worried.
He shook his head. "It's just the nightmares again."
She sighed heavily.
"I can make you something? To help you sleep?"
Draco shook his head. Before, he had given in, taken the potions, but after the dreamless sleep it had all come crashing down again. The memories had flooded back, as bitter as the first time. At least in his dreams he knew what had happened. He hadn't woken, thinking he was still in his own home, before the war. Thinking everything was back to normal again.
"I can't go on like this, mother." He said quietly, his eyes closed so he didn't have to watch her reaction. She pulled him into a fierce hug. Sometimes he forgot how small and frail she was, she wrapped around his waist with her thin, shivering arms.
"It's alright, Draco." She said softly. "He's gone. Everything is alright now. We're safe." He looked down now, opening his eyes, and stared into her pale face.
"I know." He said, wrapping his arms around her, taking care not to touch her with his scar. "We got what we deserved. Better than we deserved."
He looked down. The mark on his arm had faded after the Dark Lord's death. An ugly reminder. It would never fully heal. He never touched it, never allowed it to be touched. On some level he was frightened that if he did, the Dark Lord would be summoned back from the dead.
I'm a monster. He thought quietly, holding his mother tightly.
...
Draco waited until the light had begun to creep over the horizon in earnest. His mother had gone back to her room. He dressed quietly, putting on his white dress shirt and clean gray slacks, his black overcoat. Without glancing in the mirror he made his quietly out the door. The small London townhouse had been a godsend, far from the rest of their kind, but close enough to the ministry that he could walk. He took a brief detour, making his way toward the river. The stray dogs watched him as he passed, blinked blearily at him. They had grown used to him in the passing years.
The riverside was still reasonably deserted. Draco stood for a moment, looking out over the water. The muggles across the way had begun to light their shop windows. As the light crept over him he thought again of Crabbe. Almost instinctively, he looked behind his left shoulder, as if expecting to see the boy there, but no one was on the path save himself. Draco turned back to the river. It was cold. He would be numb moments after he hit the water...
He looked over his shoulder again. Something had moved in his peripheral, he had thought he heard the hint of a whisper...but no one. He was alone. He looked back at the river, almost longingly, but the moment had passed. He readjusted his bag over his shoulder. He didn't deserve the simple way out.
Draco walked to the Ministry in the crisp London air. He pulled his dark coat more tightly around himself. It was autumn, and it had, surprisingly, not rained in days. The leaves had been swept from the walks, but now and then he heard one skittering behind him.
Upon entering the Ministry he bought a strong cup of tea from the kind witch at the cart. She didn't seem to know who he was, or else didn't care. He stepped into the elevator and got off at level 5, making his way to his small, doorless office near the rear. He had been lucky, with his connections abroad, and had managed to secure a job in the International Magical Office of Law. He looked quietly over the empty office. He liked being the first to arrive, so he didn't feel watched as he entered. At his desk, at least, he could bury himself in work. He could prove himself. When he had first started working, a year before, someone painted the words "Death Eater" across his desk. He had been able to wave it away with his wand, but for weeks after he had made eye contact with no one. Now the office was used to his presence. He did his work well, he was punctual and polite, he ruffled no feathers. So far, things had gone better than he could have expected.
Draco was already through his second case when the office began to fill. He gave a friendly nod to those he had learned were receptive, but mostly kept his head down. Mr. Dervey, his boss, entered at his usual time, looking crisp. He was an older wizard, not particularly concerned with Draco's prior affiliations. He smiled as he passed. on the way to his larger rear corner office. Draco returned to his desk, busying himself, not looking up again. An hour later he jumped lightly at the knock on his open doorframe. Mr. Dervey had returned.
"Malfoy, a word?" He said brusquely. Draco stood, following him. Mr. Dervey frequently brought his team members in to review cases. Draco had been working through international property management, a particularly hot item with the new markets now open.
"Sir?" Draco asked, seating himself in his usual chair as Mr. Dervey took the large, leather chair on the opposite side of the desk.
"It's a rather delicate little case, Draco. Just came to my desk. An interesting one. An English girl, a recent graduate from Beauxbatons. I believe her sister attended Hogwarts. The girl has an interesting knack for spell creation, but the fellows at the Improper Use of Magic Office are making a stink about it. Apparently she created a spell strikingly similar to Imperius, used it this morning somewhere in the city. Halstadft is in a state."
Draco looked confused for a moment. "Similar to the Imperius, sir?"
Mr. Dervey barely glanced up. "A fairly clever spell. When the victim...or recipient, I suppose, is making a choice it pushes action. Not exactly compelling the person to behave, but in spite of what some administrators would have us believe, apparently the Ministry is firmly against anything that influences choice." Mr. Dervey smiled slightly at his own joke.
"But surely, sir, that spell is not our department."
"The French, it would seem, have grown most protective of our pupil. Beaubatons faculty are making a bit of a stink. She received a warning about two hours ago, of course, but she is insisting on taking her cause higher. She feels suggestibility in itself is not worthy of sanction." Mr. Dervey looked boredly at the file before passing it on to Draco.
"Take a look, will you? Of course if the spell is fundamentally different Improper Magic doesn't have a leg to stand on. It would be nice to have this solved as quickly as possible. We don't want the French Ministry taking matters into their own hands here."
Draco nodded, taking the file. He could already hear an argument forming in his head. The question of whether the spell was Imperius or not was a simple one to answer. If the body and mind were not controlled then the spell was no more dangerous than a love potion. However, patenting such a spell did seem dangerous. He looked at the file. Naturally, the Greengrass family.
He sent off a few concise memos to the Improper Use of Magic Office, as well as a quick line to the his colleague working on patents. The memos flew out, each to their place, while he began his reading.
"Astoria Adele Greengrass. Age: 18. Recent Graduate from Beauxbatons Academie. Passable, though unremarkable academics. Parents: Richard and Miriam Greengrass. Sister: Daphne Marie Greengrass. Single. Blood Status: Pureblood. On file: Warning (1), Improper Use of Magic Office."
He looked briefly over the photograph, the girl stuck her tongue out at him. It was out of date. The girl looked to be about 11, presumably before she left for the continent. She had dark hair, with freckles and thick eyebrows. He glanced at it only a moment before turning back to his work.
...
Draco took lunch at the small open air cafe around the corner, warming his hands on his mug of tea. He had just about finished when he felt someone behind him.
"Pardon me, but are you Draco Malfoy?" The woman's voice was unfamiliar. That always made him nervous. He turned, taking in the gray coat and dark hair twisted back from the woman's face. She was young, with incredibly dark eyes. He noticed a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose.
"I'm Astoria Greengrass, your office told me I could find you here." She reached out to shake his hand and he obliged. Her own hands were covered in thin black gloves.
"Please, have a seat." Draco gestured to the chair across. She stood, uncertainly, staring at the small wooden chair.
"I'm sorry, but aren't you cold?" She asked, looking at Draco, his hands now shoved deep into his coat pockets. "There's a lovely little teahouse down the way a bit. It might be warmer?" She smiled disarmingly.
Draco glanced at his watch. The tea house was considerably more comfortable, but often frequented by less friendly Ministry employees. He had felt unwelcome, even in the muggle establishment. He was about to decline when the woman was at his arm and he was walking down the street. He shook his head, once again he had that strange feeling of a missed opportunity to escape.
The teahouse was softly lit, and Astoria mercifully chose a table tucked away in a corner. Draco could feel eyes on him as he moved past the filled tables, but he did not look up. He had learned not to engage. Astoria took off her coat and gloves quickly, and had ordered for both of them before Draco had a chance to sit down. She smiled at him easily.
"Much better. Better tea too, I'll wager. The thing I have missed most about England is the tea." She said, flashing a smile at the muggle waitress who brought their cups.
"So." She said, turning back to Draco once the waitress had moved away. "What can you tell me about my case?"
Draco sighed. "Not terribly much, I'm afraid. You are right of course, in your deposition. Improper Use of Magic doesn't apply here. Your spell, while certainly...interesting...is not the Imperius Curse. Now, whether the spell is worthy of a patent, or whether sanctions should be placed on it's use, is not entirely in my hands." He looked across at her. She did not seem at all surprised or perturbed.
"You say my spell is interesting. What do you mean?" She asked, taking a sip of her tea.
"Well, frankly Miss Greengrass-."
"Astoria, please. You're my lawyer, not my undertaker."
"...Astoria," Draco cast about for the words. "Your spell could be used to...darker purposes."
She winked, "And of all people I didn't think you would object."
Draco turned white. He looked down at his tea, drinking it too quickly and burning his tongue. He didn't say anything until he felt her hand over his.
"I've said something to upset you, haven't I?" She asked quietly. Draco turned his face to the wall. "I only meant it as a little joke. Everyone knows you were on the right side in the end."
He looked at her, feeling his shame and anger rising. "Do they?" He asked, eyeing her warily.
Astoria put her head down, almost touching her tea cup and she squeezed his hand again. He was tempted to pull it away, but did not.
"I'm truly sorry, Draco. Believe me, I didn't mean it about dark magic. I was only making a little joke."
Draco stared at her, and she lifted her head slightly to look back at him. "Besides," she said, "My spell can't be used for dark magic. It can only push a person one direction on a choice they were already going to make." She brightened. "You for instance."
"Me?"
"Well you're here at the tea shop with me, aren't you? And you were so considering not coming." She had a mischievous glint in her eye Draco did not quite like.
"You mean you..." he lowered his voice, "pushed me to come here? Miss...Astoria! You've already had a warning."
She reached into her pocket and came out twirling a black wand.
"Daphne's." She said lightly. "She hasn't had a warning yet, has she?"
"Well she has NOW!" Draco hissed. Astoria's face fell as she tucked the wand away.
"Fine." She said quietly, downcast again like a scolded child. "I won't do it again. Not until you've worked things out with the Ministry."
Draco sighed, taking another swig of his tea. "Good." He said quietly.
"Excuse me?" A voice at their table made them both turn. Astoria again broke into her bright smile at the newcomer, a familiar bushy-haired witch.
"Hello!" She said, extending her hand. "Astoria Greengrass."
"Hermione Granger." The witch shook her hand firmly, turning to Draco. "Malfoy. It's been a while."
"That is has." He said, looking up to meet the witch's eye. "How are you?"
"Quite well. How are things at International Law?" She asked, peering at him worriedly.
"Quite well." Draco echoed hollowly. Astoria looked back and forth between them.
"You know each other." She said delightedly.
"Yes." Hermione said, still peering at Draco. "We were in the same year at Hogwarts. Malfoy, I was wondering. Ronald and I...well, we have just been wondering how you've been getting on. Molly ran into your mother in Diagon Alley last week, and she..." She blushed, casting about for the right words. "I was wondering if you wouldn't like to come to dinner this week." She glanced at Astoria. "You can bring Astoria too, of course. Harry and Ginny will be there, and well..."
Draco opened his mouth, unsure of what to say. He vaguely saw a splotch of orange hair further in the teahouse, glaring at him.
"We would be delighted." Astoria cut in smoothly. "Tomorrow? Six o'clock?"
Hermione smiled uncertainly, though she did not look relieved. She bowed her head slightly in farewell and moved away. Astoria looked up at Draco, seeing him staring at her, his mouth still slightly agape.
"Haven't you ever been told that is an excellent way to catch flies?" She asked.
Draco closed his mouth, shaking his head. "Why did you..."
"You see?" Astoria asked, "I don't even need the spell." She stood, quickly collecting her things, leaving Draco alone at the table. He realized too late that she had already paid the bill.
...