CHAPTER 1
3 years later.
He woke up with a started and jolted as he sat right up. He was covered in sweat and he had only just realized that he was breathing like there was no tomorrow. He ran a hand through his damp hair, closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down. As soon as he closed his eyes, the horrific images appeared before his eyes once again.
He had another nightmare, the ones that seem too real to be a dream. He saw his father, looking down at him, laughing manically while he beat him with a cane. "I have no son!" he would cry. He saw his mother; her lifeless body drenched in blood lay behind his father's back. He had beaten her to death. But he started to reason with himself, it was only a dream. His mother was not dead; she was safely at home in her warm bed, hopefully not accompanied by her boyfriend that she insisted that he must meet. He had been able to avoid that specific meeting for almost two months now. It's not like he avoided the meeting, he was just never around often enough. That was his excuse. Lame, but it served its purpose.
His father locked up in Azkaban prison and hoped that someone had thrown away the key. Everything in its place? Yes, but where the hell was he right now? He looked up. A mirror that was adjacent to the bed showed him his reflection. Draco Malfoy. Age twenty-three. Bleach blond hair that he wore loosely to give off the casual yet sexy look, rock hard abs, killer smile, and silver eyes. Yum.
Location, some girl's apartment; what's-her-face, Katie or whatever. Current state, scared as hell because everything in the room, including the blankets, was hot pink with a few shades of black, and he was completely naked. Wonderful. How manly he felt using a blanket that probably belonged to a five year old. He heard the shower running somewhere in the background. Maybe he could leave without what's-her-face knowing. He gladly jumped out of the Barbie inspired bed and searched for his clothes.
The shower turned off. So much for ditching Barbie-land. What's-her-face stepped out of the bathroom loosely wrapped in (who would have thought) a hot pink towel. Draco was surprised that her hair was black.
"Draco baby, leaving so soon?" she asked in a "coy" voice. Draco shuddered. She had a high- pitched voice that reminded him too much of a sick cat. At first he thought it was the Canadian accent but then he realized, that was the manner in which she talked.
"'Morning Katie, uh yeah, I have to catch my um, plane remember?" Draco laughed inwardly, muggles and their airplanes. " I was only here for a week on a business trip. I told you that. But I had fun, staying here with you". If looks could kill, Draco would have been dead ten times over.
"My name is Michelle, Draco and you are not leaving me" she pouted and glared at him.
"Beg your pardon?"
"I won't take that shit from you. You think you can just use me to have a good 'shag' as you call it, like a common whore? I am a woman of value Draco. You're never going to find another woman like me."
"Woman of value eh? I would think that a woman of value would wait more than two days to sleep with a guy she just met. And you're right; I'll never find another woman like you and I hope I don't. Woman like you really aren't my type, I prefer ones with a little more dignity. Besides, I'm allergic to cats. See you around." Draco picked up his black Gucci coat and walked towards the door.
"Draco! You are NOT leaving me do you hear! I uh, I'M PREGNANT! Son of a bitch! DRACO!"
He slammed the door. She sounded like a sick cat when she talked, a hyena when she moaned, and an angry orangutan when she screamed, such a lovely combination. A whole safari in a 5'1" Canadian girl. He made a mental note. Don't ever date cat-like women again.
He made his way down the stairs and into the back alley of the apartment. Steven Link, the head of the Auror department, had sent him to Canada to investigate on the whereabouts of a possible Death Eater that could still be roaming about. Turned out that it was a poor muggle that once been tortured by a Death Eater, had gone mad, and now called himself Batman and said he was to destroy the world using the Unforgivable Curses. He seriously thought he was Batman; he wore a black cape and had a mask with pointy ears. He carried around a twig, or his "wand" screaming "crucio!" at random people on the street. That's a sight you don't see everyday.
Draco was able to modify the poor man's mind and restore him to his sanity. Draco thought it would have been an interesting explaination to the family on his whereabouts. "I was fighting the Joker and the Riddler, they formed an alliance and I had to stop them! But then I sought out a way to destroy the world! Oh, and I picked up a cheeseburger on the way." He stood behind a garbage can. He liked this city, Calgary, or Cowtown he heard people call it. He made another note that he would come back to visit some day and, with that, he apparated back to Malfoy Manor. He didn't want to arrive at the Ministry of Magic without taking a shower first. Malfoy Manor, the memories from this place came swarming back at Draco, and they weren't very pleasant.
Ever since Draco was a little boy of around, three years of age, his father held great expectations for his heir, and he wasn't going to allow his only heir to be a failure. Whenever Draco would fail or not put in all his effort into a spell or lesson, he would be beaten. He grew up, knowing little of true love and affection, only being shown a glimpse of such feelings by his mother, behind his father's back.
His mother didn't escape Lucius' beatings either. The few times his mother would comfort her son and heal his wounds, Lucius would beat her, claming that it was the only way Draco would learn and if he wasn't going to learn, then he should be punished for it. He hated his father for this. Lucius demanded that Draco was to follow in his footsteps one day and become one of the Dark Lord's right hand men. Draco dreaded the idea and hoped for the Dark Lord never to return.
Since things never really went the way he intended, the Dark Lord did return. They were all screwed. But he hid these feelings, not wanting to show weakness and fear; it was not the Malfoy way of being. He may have been saner that his father, but he knew better than claiming that brute violence was the answer to solve all problems. But as Malfoy grew, he knew that these thoughts were signs of weakness, and therefore wore a mask. He was to hate all muggle-born witches and wizards (although the Dark Lord himself was one. He wished someone would explain that to him), and he was to be proud of who he was and where he was coming from.
Being vulnerable as child, he did. He grew up meeting his father's expectations, but never to their full extent. Finally, the day came when he was to prove himself to the Dark Lord that he would be a worthy Death Eater. If he did, he would receive the Dark Mark. Great. He was assigned to kill Ronald Weasley. Why? Simply to anger Harry Potter. Oh joy, murder someone just for the hell of it.
Even though Draco could not stand being in the same room with the boy-who-won't-die and his clumsy chum more than one minute, he couldn't bring himself to murder someone just because. What was the point exactly? He thought that the Dark Lord was nothing more than an extreme pessimist, or maybe he wanted to be the new Hitler of the magical world. Whatever the reason was, Draco would not follow and refused to kill Ron.
Of all the mistakes that Draco had committed, that was one of the worst. He knew that he was done for and sought out to Dumbledore for help. Draco joined the "good side" and the rest is history. The Dark Lord was vanquished and the Death Eaters that were not taken to Azkaban somehow got away and went into hiding, his father included.
Draco stepped out of the shower, drying his hair as he walked into his bedroom in all his naked glory (the lucky bastard had an en-suite bathroom). He quickly got dressed and combed his hair. He took out a piece of parchment and wrote a quick note to his mother.
Hello Mother,
As you can see, I have returned from my trip to Canada. Beautiful country, but lots of cat women. I have left for the Ministry. I shall join you at dinner tonight.
Draco
He took a final look in the mirror, satisfied with what he saw, he apparated to the Ministry. For the tenth time in a row, he almost walked into his office door when apparating to work. He once gave himself a bloody nose, but no one was around to see this embarrassing moment. He opened the door and walked into his office but stopped dead in his tracks.
An elderly woman was sitting at the front of Draco's desk. She wore a knee-length plain black skirt, and a long-sleeve white blouse that was buttoned all the way up. He wouldn't have been surprised if she was wearing granny knickers. He imagined she had sleek brown hair but couldn't tell since she wore it in a tight bun. He shuddered and felt as if he was looking at a slightly younger version of his former transfiguration professor.
"It's about time you got here, I've been waiting for almost forty-five minutes," she said annoyingly. "Where exactly have you been?" That's when he realized she wasn't an elderly woman.
"Hello to you too Granger. My trip went fine, thanks for asking. You're too kind" Draco answered sarcastically. He loved annoying her, he found amusement in it.
" We're supposed to be in Mr. Link's office. Apparently he has an assignment for the both of us." She frowned as she said this. She resembled more of an old prune when she frowned.
"Geez, Granger. It looks like you'd rather eat a whole lemon than work with me" Draco said.
"You're an insufferable, arrogant brat and you've made us late." She headed for the door and made her way towards Mr. Link's office.
"Guess I should follow. She calls me an arrogant brat, yet she insulted me. Women." he thought, and followed Hermione to Mr. Link's office. Just what he needed, to work with sour-faced granny knickers Granger.
