Midnight Faeries

Chapter 2

Draco Malfoy was back in Britain, and to be honest, he wasn't completely happy about it. After the war, he had elected not to go back to Hogwarts, and took his seventh year at a school of magic in America where very few people knew of his Death Eater past.

Draco was trying to put everything behind him. He wasn't proud of what he'd done, and he wanted to move past it. But that had been near impossible in Britain, where everyone he met thought he was evil. At a time, yes, he had agreed with the Dark Lord, but he had been young. Even Dumbledore had been interested in subduing muggles in his youth, and he grew up to become one of the greatest, kindest wizards of all time. Did Draco not get that chance?

By living in America, Draco was able to reinvent himself. He tried new things, met new people, and the experience of no one having expectations of him allowed him to open his mind. Because he was no longer at a school divided into houses, he made friends with all sorts of people. Because he was no longer expected to follow in his father's footsteps, he dappled in all different areas of study. He stopped identifying as Draco Malfoy, Slytherin, and became just Draco.

So to go back to the place where he had been labeled as an evil git was no vacation, and Draco did not return of his own free will. He returned for work.

After finishing his seventh year, Draco happened to meet a man named Wesley Wellington in the American equivalent of Diagon Alley—which was aptly named the Magic Mall. Wesley was a few years older than Draco, but the two were instant friends, regardless. The man was originally from South Korea, but had been adopted into an American family when he was a baby. He knew nothing about his biological parents, and since his adopted family had been muggle, he considered himself a magical anomaly.

"Who knows where I came from," he told Draco over Phoenix beer and burgers during their first meeting. "Maybe my birth family was magic, maybe not. I'll never know, because I was left on the police station doorstep as a baby. Weren't my adopted parents surprised when I turned the cat green at age eight!"

Draco was fascinated. Because of his pure-blooded heritage and upbringing, he had always struggled to accept that ancestry was not important to other wizards and witches. "But there are some very powerful Korean wizarding families," he commented to Wesley. "Are you not interested to find out if you belong to one of them?"

Wesley shrugged. "If I did want to find my birth family, it wouldn't matter to me if they were important or not. I would want to find them because they were my family. But whoever they were, they abandoned me for a reason, and I grew up in a loving family and went to a great school. I turned out well, in my opinion. I don't really need to know who my biological parents are."

Wesley wasn't lying when he told Draco he'd turned out well. The older man was a wandmaker, and although he had only recently begun selling his wands when they met, he was already well respected in the field. Because Draco had no plans for a career or further schooling, Wesley invited the younger man to work with him.

"I could always use the extra help, and you're smart enough that you might actually be able to do more than just manual labor." Wesley smiled. "And when you discover what you really want to go into, I won't hold it against you for leaving. Just work for me until you get bored."

Draco agreed, and after a year of collecting wood, harvesting and buying various wand cores, running trivial errands, and manning and organizing the store, W.W. Wands, he still wasn't tired of it. In fact, he loved it. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined himself working for a wandmaker, but he found that he fit into the role perfectly. Wesley had even said that Draco would soon be able to learn the process of actually making the wands—and since making the perfect wands was so secretive a procedure, the Briton understood this to be a great honor.

However, when Wesley announced that they were going on a business trip to Britain, Draco was not impressed.

"Whyy?" he whined as the men worked to close up the shop for their trip. "I don't need to go, I can stay here and mind the shop! Why do you need me to come?"

"Draco," Wesley answered patiently, "I've never been to Britain before. You grew up there. You know how to get around, where the wizarding communities are, and where we can get a good cup of Phoenix beer, cheap. You're going to be my guide as I scope out the English magic scene."

Draco scratched his head. "They don't serve Phoenix beer in Britain. That's an American thing, we have Firewhiskey instead."

"Alcohol! I'm not picky." Wesley conceded.

"I haven't been there in three years, things have probably changed a lot."

"I doubt they've changed where the wizarding market is held. What's it called? Diagonally?"

"Diagon Alley."

"Right, that."

"Yeah, but still. You don't need me. You can take care of yourself." Draco finished putting away the wand boxes and turned to face his boss. "I'm done here, what's left?"

"We also need to lock up all of the materials—the wood and cores and potion ingredients." Wesley looked up from the paperwork he'd been working on. "But don't go do that just yet. Draco, what's really wrong?"

Draco leaned against the wall across from Wesley's desk with a sigh. "Nothing. Well, no, that's not true. I'm just worried."

Wesley put down his pen and focused his attention on his friend. "Worried about what?"

"Returning," Draco admitted. "I haven't been back to Britain, to London, since the War. People won't have forgotten the part that I played in it."

"But you're a good guy," Wesley said. "Don't people know that?"

"Ha. No. They see me as that Malfoy brat, the Death Eater." Draco played with the cuff of his left sleeve, buttoning and unbuttoning it anxiously.

"That might be who you were, but it isn't who you are." Wesley leaned back in his chair. "Hold your head high and treat everyone there the way you treat people here. Show them that you've changed with your actions."

"Yeah," Draco agreed. "I just hope they don't hex me as soon as they set eyes on me."

Wesley laughed and twirled his wand, showering his paperwork with blue sparks. "Don't worry Draco, I'll protect you."

Draco grinned, "Thanks, Wes, but that would make them hate me more."

Wesley pouted, and then smiled. "Now get back to work, slave, we have a portkey to catch!"

Being back in London was just as terrible as Draco had thought it would be. He and Wes took their portkey from their shop in America to the Ministry of Magic's official transatlantic portkey point, which was pretty much just an empty room on one of the Ministry's higher floors. When they checked in with the witch behind the desk outside the door, her eyes bugged at Draco's name. Thankfully, however, she made no comment.

As they were leaving the Ministry—they flooed to the Leaky Cauldron—Draco's white-blond hair and tall stature drew stares from those who knew the features. He heard whispers as they passed people he had once known, but he ignored them and increased his pace. By the time they reached the giant fireplaces just off the Ministry's entrance hall, Wesley was struggling to keep up.

"Geez, Draco, cool it, would you?" The American leaned against the fireplace mantle to catch his breath. He glanced around, observing his surroundings. "My first look at magical London, and magical London's looking at me. Or, rather, you."

Draco shifted uncomfortably. "I told you it wouldn't go well. Can we just get out of here already?"

Wes straightened up and squared his shoulders. "Sure. The Leaky Cauldron?"

Draco nodded, and one after the other, they stepped into the green flames.

"Draco Malfoy!" boomed a voice across the murky barroom. Draco cringed, but turned.

"Hi, Blaise," he said to the man striding toward him. "Long time, no see."

"You're telling me!" said Blaise Zabini, and Draco was engulfed in a hug that was as manly as hugs get. "Two full years. And you never returned any of my letters. I have half a mind to be angry with you."

"Blaise," Draco said, "you never sent me any letters."

Blaise grinned. "And that's why it was only half a mind." He noticed Wesley then, standing off to the side. "Who's your friend?"

"Blaise Zabini, this is Wesley Wellington," Draco introduced. "Wesley is my boss in America, he's a wandmaker. I'm showing him around London."

"Pleased to meet you." Wesley smiled, and the men shook hands. "It's good to see that Draco actually has friends here in Britain, he makes it seem like everyone hates him."

Blaise grinned. "Well, everyone does hate him. I just don't hate him as much as everyone else." He laughed. "Draco was always pretty withdrawn in school. He didn't make it easy to get to know him, but he was from a prominent family, and I was from a prominent family, and we were both Slytherins and we roomed together and had classes together. It was hard to not become friends."

Wesley laughed. "Your Draco seems like a different guy from the one I know."

Blaise smiled and looked at his old schoolmate. "Is that so? Then I suppose we should get to know each other again. I'm going out tonight, would you two care to join me?"

Wesley and Draco exchanged a look. "Where, exactly, are you going out to?" asked Draco skeptically.

"Oh, you don't know it," said Blaise confidently. "I only found out about it a few weeks ago, it's completely underground." He glanced around to make sure that they weren't overheard, but the chatter and clinking of the bar's patrons masked their conversation. "It's called The Midnight Club. Come along with me, gentlemen, and I assure you that you won't be disappointed."

Thank you for reading! More action next chapter, and more explanations. I'm really still in the introducing-the-characters-and-the-time-and-the-setting phase, but the plot will move along faster soon. Please review!