Draco Malfoy slammed the door to his small, one bedroom flat angrily, throwing his keys on a side table and pulling off his black leather gloves. He roughly pulled off his black scarf and tossed it on the nearby sofa, the ice still clinging to it scattering everywhere.
Oh, how Draco hated his life.
Nearly a year ago, right after the war had ended, Draco had wondered if he could even be a free man. His father, he knew, would have to spend some time in Azkaban. It was a well known fact that the people wanted vengeance from those who ruined their lives for nearly half a century, and Scrimgeour always cared about what the people wanted. Days after Potter killed off Voldemort, the Death Eater trials began.
They were a nightmare, every single one. Lucius Malfoy was sentenced to life in Azkaban. Potter personally spoke to the Head Auror about Draco's mother and himself, and they were able to plea bargain their way to relative freedom. In exchange for the names of many Death Eaters still at large and testimony during some key trials, Narcissa served absolutely no time in Azkaban. Draco was reluctantly grateful towards Potter for this, although he would never admit it. However, no one particularly wanted Draco to go free (after all, it was Draco's fault that Dumbledore had died).
So Draco was sentenced to four months in Azkaban. After the four months of private hell, he would have to complete 500 hours of community service. It was a common punishment for the children of Death Eaters bullied into service by their parents.
He moved out of the Manor after his time in Azkaban. The house was still being searched extensively by the Ministry, and Draco didn't like the idea of living in a house that was completely open to basically anyone who worked with the Ministry. It had too many memories anyway, memories he didn't think he could face just yet.
So he found a small flat in Muggle London that was as far away from Diagon Alley as humanly possible. And in all honestly, he sort of liked it. The first few days were complete torture because he had to get used to living in a house with basically four rooms: a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and living room. Coming from a house that had four floors, it was pretty difficult. However, after the first week, Draco started to like the cozy feel it had. His flat felt very personal, very intimate to him, and soon, he began to love the place. The living room was decorated in a very classical way; the dark wood floors and warm colored furniture making the whole room have a very down to earth feel. The kitchen was the exact opposite, however. It felt very modern, with stainless steel appliances and black countertops. At first, the stark difference between the two rooms only made his head hurt, but now, Draco thought it as just part of the flat's charm.
He also got an internship at a local Muggle news station. It was a strange sort of occupation for him to be considering, but the opportunity just sort of fell into his lap. He was basically getting paid to watch the more experienced reporters work, so who could complain about that? But after a while, like the flat, Draco began to like his internship. After his third month, Draco began to believe that he could spend the rest of his life behind the camera like his boss, reporting the news.
He had vowed to himself that he would not go anywhere near the Wizarding World for a few years; just until people forgot to hate him and remembered to be intimidated by him again.
But even that bleak plan failed miserably when he received an owl last week giving him strong suggestions of where he would serve his community service. He had the fabulous choice of either being a maid at St. Mungo's or some kind of cart-repair boy for Gringotts.
Of course, he knew nothing about cleaning or fixing things, so either spot was likely to be complete humiliation for him. In the end, he had reluctantly decided that by working at St. Mungo's, he might eventually be taken in as a potion's maker for them (Draco had been the Dark Side's primary Potion's Maker when Severus had been Headmaster of Hogwarts).
Draco sighed and curled up quietly on his comfortable armchair. After a moment, Ferus, Draco's dog, came bounding into the room, wagging his tail and barking madly. Draco reluctantly smiled and let the black Labrador jump all over the place.
"And where have you been, Ferus? Getting me evicted or something?" Draco asked as he watched the dog run amuck in his living room.
The dog stared at him with large, suspiciously guilty eyes and nudged Draco's hand with his snout. Draco glared at the dog sharply, raising an eyebrow warily.
"What have you done this time dog?"
Ferus barked an annoyingly mysterious response and ran out of the room.
Draco sighed again and made to follow him. Honestly, Draco had no idea how he came about owning this brazen, loud and annoying ball of fur in the first place. He never was much of a dog person, preferring to keep the wild animals of the Manor as a sort of zoo, or just as natural wildlife. He never felt much affection for any of the creatures living at the Manor. However, a few days after Draco had bought his flat, he came across this dog bleeding and whining in the alley behind his building. Draco had reluctantly brought it inside and magically healed it, and reluctantly fell in love with the obnoxious mongrel.
However, sometimes he did really want to strangle the animal, Draco thought vaguely as he entered the small kitchen, which at the moment looked as if a tornado had ripped through it. Ferus stood in the middle of the devastation, wagging his tail in a stupidly happy fashion and barking periodically. At his feet was a large, dead rat.
"Bloody hell you stupid dog, are you trying to kill yourself?"
The damned dog only barked happily in response. Draco cast a few diagnostic spells on the stupid animal, and when he was certain Ferus didn't have rabies, he banished the rat away. Draco didn't have the energy to clean the kitchen, so he just turned the light off and motioned for Ferus to follow him.
"You realize you have to be the stupidest dog that ever lived, right?" Draco asked as he collapsed onto his sofa a minute later. Ferus only curled up on the floor directly under Draco, his tail still wagging half-heartedly.
"Honestly, I don't know why I love you so damned much."
Ferus made a strange noise, somewhere between a yelp and a whine, which Draco interpreted to mean 'shut up and pet me'. Draco rolled his eyes and started petting the dog's head absent-mindedly.
"Today was horrible," he remarked to the dog. "I had to tell Stacy that I wouldn't be able to come into work as often as she'd like. Of course I couldn't tell her why, so I made up some lie about going back to school or some bullshit. But honestly, does she actually believe that I would rather be at fucking St. Mungo's than at the station, even if I had told her the truth? I mean, what does she think I am, some kind of masochist?"
Draco paused for a moment, as if expecting Ferus to respond. The dog, however, remained silent. Draco supposed the dumb thing had probably fallen asleep. Draco picked up a book lying on his coffee table. He tried to read, but found that his mind was too preoccupied with his re-entry into the Wizarding World.
"I start my community service tomorrow," he finally said. "So don't be surprised if I come home in worse of a mood than today, okay Ferus?"
The dog growled sleepily in response. Soon, the tiny room began to fill with shadows, but Draco had already fallen into a deep sleep, all worries about tomorrow temporarily forgotten.