Serendipity
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing from the Harry Potter universe. This fanfiction is written purely for entertainment purposes and nothing more.
A/N: My apologies for taking so long to update, my dear readers! I promise I have not given up on this story. I'm finding it hard to find time to squeeze in writing time with working two jobs, but I'll manage.
So, just a little input on this chapter. Serendipity is going to be written a little differently than Destiny, as I'm sure you can already tell. There are going to be a lot of similarities to Destiny, but there are also going to be a lot of things that are different than Destiny. One of those differences is that I'm writing Serendipity from both Draco and Hermione's POV. I know I had a lot of readers write to me while Destiny was being written and tell me they would love to see the story from Draco's POV, but with the way I mapped out Destiny, it wasn't possible. Destiny was all about Hermione and her journey with Destiny and her choices. This story isn't just about Hermione this time around. It's about Hermione and Draco and the events and choices in their lives that marks their destiny and their path.
Important Info: To give you a little update on Draco Malfoy's situation up until this point: In June of 1998, the Malfoy family is pardoned and given different punishments for their involvement with Voldemort. Draco returns to Hogwarts in September of 1998, accompanied by two ministry officials at all time for security measures, both for him and other students. This chapter is going to be a tad bit like the prologue - a sequence of scenes leading up to the start of his new future.
Chapter Two
A Brighter Future
May 2, 1998
The Great Hall smoldered. Cries of sorrow and pain racked the rubble-filled room, seeping and echoing into the corridors.
All I saw was blood.
Tears.
Hollow eyes.
I should be dead.
I stared down numbly at the mark upon my arm. Beside me my mother's hands began to shake. My father reached for her, stilling their trembling.
We had chosen the wrong side.
We should all be dead.
I was grateful that they had been spared, but now we sat among the survivors that hated us, wondering where our place in this world would now be.
The world seemed to have stopped spinning and the walls no longer closed in on me, yet the stabbing sensation in my throat as I fought back tears for the hundredth time that night would not disappear.
Distantly, l felt my father's hand grip my shoulder
Time to go home. We didn't belong here.
I jerked, shaking his hand off.
Suddenly, she was all I could see.
Her hair was a wild tangle, strewn with ash and matted around her blotchy face by blood.
Hers?
Someone else's?
She stood with her arms folded tightly around her torso, as if she were going to fall apart. From behind her, Ron Weasley kissed the top of her head, looking solemn. Potter stood in the corner, surveying them.
Briefly our eyes met.
In them there was no malice, no hatred, no disgust. He took a deep breath, nodding at me stiffly, and took his leave out of the Great Hall.
Like me, he can't seem to bear the sight of the dead that should still be alive.
When he isn't.
When I'm not.
Both Potter and I are alive, whether we like it or not.
July 31, 1998
Chirp.
I groaned and pressed my pillow over my face.
Chirp. Chirp.
"Go away," I muttered sourly.
I reached for my wand to silence the squeaking sounds of morning, slapping my palm against my bedside table. The birds on my windowsill continued their lively, whirring whistle. Frustrated, I shot up from my shelter underneath my covers and blinked blearily at my nightstand. All that sat upon it was a novel I'd found on the train earlier that week.
It was then that I remembered I no longer possessed a wand. Pardoned to live as a Muggle for the next year, the Ministry had confiscated my wand and my mother's wand until our next hearing a little less than a year from now.
I rolled over and climbed out of the bed. I was perpetually tired as I dragged myself into my private bathroom and showered in lukewarm water, dressed in my finest interview robes, and made my way to the corridor. As I passed my father's study, I noticed his door was ajar. He was hunched over in his armchair, disheveled blond hair pouring out over his desk while he snored. Empty at his feet sat two bottles of undulated Blishen's Premium Firewhisky.
My father was taking our sentence the hardest. Unlike my mother and myself, he had not been so lucky. Six months house arrest starting last month, probation after that which included having to carry a paper with all of his details on it, so that everywhere he went, people would know who he was. Blacklisted from all Ministry departments, Lucius Malfoy would no longer be able to find work in the Wizarding community. And worst of all, his wand had been snapped for good and he was no longer permitted to use any magic for the rest of his life.
He had taken to alcohol and solitude to numb his displeasure, often staying isolated in his study for days.
Clang. Clang.
Crack.
"Damn it!" shouted my mother from downstairs.
Clang. Clang. Clangclangclang.
I floated down the stone staircase. Opening the front door, I was greeted by a morning copy of the Daily Prophet that had been delivered via owl-post. Luckily, we were still allowed to stay on the wizarding postage.
Entering the kitchen, I sighed at the mess that cluttered the countertops. Pots and pans littered the counter and the tile on the floor was wet due to the soapy water overflowing from the sink. Narcissa stood by the sink in her satin blue robe, her long blonde hair in complete disarray. She was trying to get the antique coffee maker they had purchased from the local Muggle supermarket to run, and I couldn't help but laugh a little at the sight of her frowning, irritated face.
"Morning," I said, and Narcissa turned around.
"This damn thing is broken again, Draco," she hissed, pointing to it. Taking pity on her, I went over to the coffee maker.
"I've told you before," I murmured softly, "You have to plug it in to the outlet, otherwise it won't turn on."
Inserting the plug into the outlet on the wall, I stood back and gestured to the appliance as the coffee maker beeped loudly and started to hum.
Narcissa gave a curt nod and a huff before grabbing a ceramic mug from the cupboard and placing it underneath the spout.
"You've been drinking a lot of coffee lately," I commented, noticing the dark circles under her eyes.
"It's just so hard to get out of bed sometimes," she sighed.
Adjusting to Muggle life had been difficult for us, but I found that when it came to basic appliances, they usually came with a manual that gave clear instructions on how to set things up and use it. Also, they usually had pictures and diagrams, which had proved to be quite helpful. But I noticed the pictures did not move.
"I'm sorry I haven't started breakfast," my mother whispered. "I didn't think you would be up so early."
I shook my head in response and passed her the morning paper from under my arm, urging her toward the table. "I'll do it, you sit and relax."
After grabbing her morning caffeine, Narcissa sat down at the table with the paper, and gazed at me as I opened the small refrigerator.
"You don't have to baby me, Draco," she muttered, a light pink grazing her cheeks in embarrassment. "I'm capable of cracking open a few eggs."
Narcissa Malfoy was out of her element when it came to cooking without the assistance of a wand or house elf.
I pulled out the bread, jam, and eggs and quietly fixed our breakfast while my mother roamed the paper.
"Do you know what I was thinking?" Narcissa said at length.
"What?" I looked at her pale face, licking the jam off of my fingers.
"I was thinking of starting our monthly parties up again. I would need to run some errands and come up with a guest list. It would be fun, don't you think so?"
I didn't let her see my frown.
"Of course I know it will never be to the same effect as they used to be, but I think it is necessary for the world to start moving on. And what greater way of starting off a fresh start than a party with some old friends?"
We have no friends, I thought darkly, but nodded for her to continue.
"We'll throw charity balls, to help raise money for the wizarding community," Narcissa mused.
I set the toast and eggs in front of her, poured myself a large cup of coffee, and deposited myself into the chair opposite of her.
"For St. Mungo's," Narcissa said. "I'm sure they could use the funds after having to treat so many people."
"I think that's a lovely thought, Mother," I said.
It was nice to see her smile, become alive about something again. It wasn't my job to express to her the reality that our reputation was smashed and no matter what she did and the charity events she threw, it would remain that way forever. It was my job to make my mother happy, and if that meant encouraging her and helping her throw soirees every month, that's exactly what I would do.
"I'll reach out to Blaise," I told her. "If anyone can spread the word about a party, it would be him. And his mother could help you with the guest list, I'm sure."
"Oh, that would be wonderful, thank you, dear."
As we ate, she looked at me, frowning.
"You'll be needing a haircut, soon," she fussed. "And you're far too thin. Are you remembering to eat between interviews?"
I didn't have the heart to tell her that there had been no interviews. I had been job-hunting every day for the past month until the late hours of the night and the prospect of me getting a job that would make enough to put food on the table for even one of us, looked bleak.
"Here," my mother said quietly, passing me the paper. "I'm going to wake your father."
As she stood, dirty dishes in hand, she kissed me lightly on the forehead.
"I'm so proud of you, my beautiful boy," she whispered.
"Mum," I grunted and she smiled, depositing her dishes in the sink.
"Just like your father," she chuckled before exiting.
I frowned at her comment and returned to the paper, taking a long swig of coffee. It tasted grainy and bitter and I wished that we had sugar, but we'd run out last week.
Another item to add to the list, I thought tiredly.
On the front page of the paper, Harry Potter smiled, waving.
Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, celebrates his birthday away at Auror training, quoted the paper.
I rolled my eyes, flipping the page. On the second page I was assaulted by another familiar face.
War heroine, Hermione Granger, left, continues to show her loyalty to the wizarding community by volunteering at St. Mungo's and helping to rebuild Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, of which she attended.
With a grunt of displeasure, I threw down the paper and stalked to the sink. Despite how tired I was, I started rinsing off the sink of dishes, leaving them on the counter for Narcissa to dry and put away. Toweling my hands off, I picked up my booklet of resumes and applications and headed out the door toward the bus stop in the nearby village that would take me to the nearest train station.
Not being able to Apparate was really the least of my worries lately.
August 20, 1998
"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy," the woman said, pushing back my woefully-short resume. "We only accept employees that have passed their N.E.W.T.s. And since you don't have the ability to use magic at this time, it just won't work, but we thank you for expressing your interest."
With a hefty grunt, I removed myself from the small office of Margot Keller and frowned at the room of cubicles. It was abuzz with the scratching of quills, airplane memos, and light chatter.
"Hey, newbie!" shouted a tall black haired man with glasses. He was waving at a woman that had just entered the room.
I noticed with a start as I stared at her that it was none other than Hermione Granger. Unlike me, it seemed she had no difficulty in finding a job, even if it was just a paper pusher in the Department of Regulation and Care of Magical Creatures.
But who was I to judge?
I couldn't even manage to get my resume processed by someone higher than an assistant. Not one bloody interview.
"Good evening. Alfred, I assume? Margot told me you could show me around," the curly haired girl from his past said pleasantly. "I'm starting tomorrow morning, but I would like to get acquainted with everyone and my surroundings before I start. My name is Hermione, by the way, not newbie."
Glaring, I departed from the Department of Regulations and stole to the streets just in time to catch the last bus out to the train station. As I rode the train, I picked at my worn pants, noticing that a hole was beginning to form in the knee. If I was careful, perhaps it wouldn't spread…though I knew it was unlikely. My right shoe also had a small hole in the bottom, meaning if the sidewalks were wet, water immediately went right to my sock and soaked it.
However, if only my mother would be happy, none of it would even matter. I would be content to stay like this for the rest of my life if only she would be content. She tried to hide her worried looks, but she was not able to often enough.
As I exited the bus an hour later, I began to walk toward the village up ahead, just a few miles from the manor. The sky was clouded-over, and I walked through the park quickly. There was a small crowd of elders enjoying the barren land. To my right, a middle-aged woman was jogging with her dog, an older man was huddled on the bench trying to eat a sandwich, and two young children were riding their bikes. There were not many people out today, I noticed, no doubt driven indoors by the gloomy overcast skies and the threat of late summer thunderstorms.
When I unlocked the door to the manor, I heard soft music playing, and I couldn't help but sigh in relief a little as I entered. Narcissa was fast asleep on the small sofa in the drawing room, listening to classical music on the radio I had purchased for her last week.
I went over and shook her shoulder softly.
"Mum," I said quietly. "Mum."
She inhaled swiftly as she woke, her head snapping up, and then she blinked a few times and looked up at me. Her thin lips turned upward into a tired smile.
"Draco, darling," she said, taking the hand that was on her shoulder.
"It is late," I stated, frowning at her in disapproval. "You should go to bed."
"I wanted to make sure you got home safe," she replied, and she stood, putting a hand on my arm as she did so. "I will never trust that Muggle transport, no matter what you say. How were your interviews?"
I flipped off the radio.
"Not much luck today," I told her. "But we will talk tomorrow, Mum. You need your rest. Okay?"
"Okay," she repeated.
She gave me a kiss on the cheek and wandered off to her bedroom. I ensured that the door was locked up and stole to the kitchen for some food, noticing how neglected my stomach felt.
On the counter sat a wooden board with a plate that had been set out for me. A small block of cheddar cheese, a portion of baguette, and some chilled leftover potato soup from yesterday. The soup was bland and murky -Narcissa was still getting accustomed to the stove- and the bread stale, but I found myself too hungry to really notice.
Tomorrow, I vowed, I would find a job. Tomorrow I would eat a hot meal. Tomorrow I would see my mother's smile again.
But tonight I was just too tired to care.
August 20, 1998, Later.
Bang, bang, bang!
I sprung up from my deep slumber.
"What the devil?" exclaimed my father from further down the corridor.
BANG! BANG!
I leapt out of bed.
"It's three in the morning," came Narcissa's frightened voice. "Who could that be? Is it the Ministry? We haven't done any - "
"Stay up here, Mother," I instructed as my father stomped down the staircase and sprung open the front door.
"Lucius, I apologize for the late hour."
The man in the doorway was cloaked in shadow and I didn't recognize his voice, but my father became tense.
"What the hell are you doing here?" my father hissed.
"You're two months late on your payment to me, Lucius," said the man slowly. "I've waited long enough and I won't be patient for much longer. I've come to collect what I'm owed."
"You'll get what's due to you, but as you can imagine things around here have been pretty tight so I'm sure you can understand - "
"I've been known to be a very understanding man, Lucius. And I've been understanding when it comes to your family for quite a long time. Next time I have to come around here and you don't have my money, I'll pick your wife's bones clean."
Before I could react, Lucius sprung forward, hands gripped around the man's throat in a severe choke-hold.
"Lucius! Stop it!" Narcissa screamed, darting down the stairs.
"Mum, no!" I hollered, chasing after her.
She tugged at my father.
"Lucius, stop!"
"Dad!"
At my voice, Lucius staggered away from the man with a huff.
"Come around my family again, Bogsworth, and I will kill you," Lucius grated.
"Ah, ah, ah," the man laughed, peeling back his robe to reveal his wand. "You'll be smart not to threaten a man when you can't protect yourself or your family."
My father narrowed his eyes.
"Leave," I snarled, shoving the man hard. "Now. Or I will shove my father outside this house and if my father steps foot outside the perimeter, the area will immediately be swarmed with patrol squads. Now, I'm not sure what kind of business you run, but it can't be very legal if you are coming round our house at this hour. We have asked you to leave our property, which also means you would be trespassing. I suggest you leave before we have you arrested."
"Ah, little Draco. Not so little anymore, are you? Hmm. Enjoy your safety, Mr. Malfoy," Bogsworth said, smiling sinisterly at Lucius. "While it lasts."
With a swish of his cloak, Bogsworth apparated and I slammed the door shut, locking it securely.
"Why weren't the wards up?" I demanded, glaring at my father.
"I forgot to renew the system," Lucius replied. "I'll pay the bill tomorrow."
"You can't forget to do stuff like that, Dad!" I shouted, grabbing him harshly. "You could have gotten us all killed! We have no magic to defend ourselves with and the whole world knows it! If we don't have wards and take precautions - "
"I know, boy!" roared Lucius. "Don't you dare speak to me that way again or I'll have your head on my wall!"
"Lucius," gasped Narcissa, placing her hand on her husband's arm. "Please calm down. Draco was just - "
Smack.
I stared in petrified rage as my mother staggered backward, clutching her cheek. Tears rushed to her eyes.
"Cissy… Cissy, I'm so sorry. I - I don't know what c-came over me," Lucius stammered apologetically, reaching for her.
"Don't touch me," she spat, recoiling from him. "I don't know who you are anymore."
Lucius looked as if he'd been the one slapped.
"The Lucius I know would never have reacted in such anger toward his wife, even by accident," Narcissa said icily. "He wouldn't be locked away in his study moping about his pitiful life. He would be strong, clean, and making sure he would do anything in his power to ensure our safety. But you've become so self-possessed, you've practically forgotten we're here at all. Mark my words, Lucius Malfoy, you will get your act together, or so help me I will shove you out of this house and turn you into the authorities myself, if that's what it bloody well takes for you to wake up and be a husband and a father again!"
Minutes later, the door to their bedroom slammed shut and my father slowly turned to me.
"She's right, you know," I snapped. "I've been doing all that I can, but I'm never going to be enough for her, Father. She needs you, now more than ever. She will never admit it, but she's falling apart without you. I've already lost a father, don't make me lose my mother, too."
I had never seen my father so saddened, so accepting of my cruel words. This time, he knew I didn't say them out of spite. He knew I was right.
Leaving my father behind, I adjourned to my bedroom. Minutes later I heard the door to my father's study close and knew he would be drowning his sorrows.
"I can't stay here," I whispered desperately and grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill.
I knew I would not be able to provide for my family if I did not have a career, and I wouldn't have a career until I could practice magic again. Due to the war, I had not been able to complete my seventh year at Hogwarts as I had intended to since the school had been taken over by Dark forces. I was without N.E. , encumbered with a tarnished reputation, and I had no access to magic.
There was nothing I could do.
But I would be damned if I had to sit idly by while my family fell apart at the seams.
And so I began my letter to Headmistress Minerva McGonagall and Minister Kingsley Shacklebot.
February 11, 1999
I slammed my fist down on the table and several Slytherins turned toward me. The student body in the Great Hall was significantly less than the years before. Many had chosen not to return to Hogwarts so soon after the events the previous year. The few Slytherins that took up the table sneered down at me.
"What is it, Malfoy? Mummy didn't earn enough money in her charity ball this month to buy you better robes?"
I inhaled deeply, feeling my fist flinch under the table. I should be used to this by now, but after the news I'd just received, all I wanted to do was kill something.
"How's dear old Daddy?"
"What did you just say to me?" I snapped, turning on the boy who had spoken.
Obviously shaken by the look I was giving him and my tone, the boy shrunk back.
"I said, what did you just say to me?"
"Draco, calm down, people are starting to stare," whispered Pansy Parkinson.
"What do you know about my father?" I shouted, lunging in rage at the boy, clutching him roughly by his collar. "Tell me!"
"Crazy bastard!" yelped the boy. "I don't know anything!"
"You think I'm just supposed to think what you said to me was a bloody coincidence after I received this?" I hollered, brandishing the letter my mother had sent me.
"I don't know what your damn letter says! Let me go!"
"Mr. Malfoy," grunted a voice from behind me.
I stiffened, sneering.
Stupid ministry officials, I thought sourly.
I noticed that there was only one today.
Madsen must still be sick.
"Release the boy," Heathrow commanded in his gruff authoritative, no-nonsense tone.
When I didn't, Heathrow grabbed me roughly.
"I said let him go."
Glaring, I released the idiot that had been sitting next to me and watched as he scuttled away. It was only then that I realized the entire student body and staff was watching me, not surprised. This had happened before, usually ending in me sending someone to the hospital wing and ending up in detention for a month.
"Come with me, Mr. Malfoy," Heathrow said, ushering me out of the Great Hall.
Once we were out of earshot, Heathrow released me, his large biceps rolling as he shifted.
"What the hell were you thinking?" he demanded.
"I wasn't," I snapped angrily.
"Precisely," Heathrow countered. "And what have I told you about reacting in anger and not thinking things through?"
"Things get ugly and people get hurt," I repeated like a mantra. "With all due respect, Heathrow, I wanted to hurt him."
Heathrow shook his head, smirking. "That may be true, but you can't act on it. That's what will get you into trouble and that's what will impact you come your hearing in June and whether you get your magic back or not."
I sighed, raking a hand through my hair.
"What's got you so upset?" Heathrow asked.
I handed over the letter.
"It's from my mother," I explained.
Heathrow glanced through it and his eyebrows shot up.
"Your father's gone missing?"
I nodded, pacing. "My father had a lot of enemies. I don't think that this was accidental or my father running out on his family. If he wanted to run away, he would have run away in December when his house arrest was lifted. My father is a lot of thing. But if there's one thing my father isn't, it's a man that walks out on his family."
Heathrow sighed, nodding.
"There's nothing you can do," he said to me. "You have a job."
"I know, study, lay low, pass my N.E.W.T's , graduate, and get the hell out of here," I said. "I just worry about my mother."
"Your mother is a strong woman. You're a lot like her. And she will be fine. The Ministry will do all it can to find your father and ensure your mother's safety."
I sighed. "I need some quiet."
Heathrow nodded, knowing exactly what I meant. He followed me up to the library in silence, lying low. When I entered the library, I was met with the familiar scent of dusty books. The library had been restored but it wasn't the same. Many shelves were missing books still and sometimes, depending on where you sat, it still smelled like it did when it was nothing but dust and rubble.
Heathrow propped himself up at a nearby table with a book and I took to the shelves, searching for something mundane to read to distract me from my mother's letter. As I reached the back of the third aisle, I heard something peculiar that piqued my curiosity. Sneaking behind the shelf into the fourth aisle, I found the source of the sound.
She was seated cross-legged in a wide armchair by the window, watching the snow howl over the grounds. A heavy tome rested in her lap, a notebook of scribbles and lengthy, columned notes propped against it.
Hermione Granger.
Blast her, does she have to be everywhere?
Of course she would be here. What did she say she was here for - early N.E.W.T exams or something?
Granger. Always the bloody annoying overachiever.
She looked exhausted. Despite how she was dressed - thick black leggings, fluffy white boot socks, an over-sized white sweater, and dark maroon scarf which circled twice around her neck - she shivered. Her gray boots lay on the floor. Her cheeks were blotchy and she kept sniffling.
Was she sick?
Upon closer inspection, it seemed as though she was crying. Softly.
Normally, I found women that cried to be exceedingly ugly, their faces all screwed up, snot dripping, dramatic wailing and all.
But not her.
She cried as if she was afraid to cry. As if she'd had lots of practice hiding her emotions.
I wondered what Miss Perfect she had to cry about.
Suddenly, the shelf I was leaning against creaked, a textbook thudding to the ground. Her head sprung up and she gasped in surprise, swiping at her cheeks. I dove quickly behind the shelf, cursing quietly.
"Who's there?"
Her voice trembled.
"Come out now or I'll hex you into next month!" she threatened, her voice cracking.
"Erm, sorry? I didn't know that this was a private library," scoffed a girl's voice.
"Oh, no, I'm sorry. I…I thought I heard something," Granger said, flustered and embarrassed. "I get so jumpy at night, I'm sorry."
"Whatever," said the girl.
I watched as the girl walked past and disappeared into the second aisle, rolling her eyes as she did so. She was followed by Hermione Granger, who clutched her book bag as she deposited her notes inside of it. Her gray boots smacked against the wooden floor quietly as she hurried toward the exit.
When she was gone, I returned to my seat at the front by the window.
Heathrow glanced up at me, quirking an eyebrow.
"Which book did you decide on?" he questioned.
I stared down at my empty hands and scratched the back of my neck.
"Er, I must have forgotten it," I said and circled back to my initial mission of finding a book.
I tried to ignore the smirk Heathrow gave me and the way my stomach flipped over when I realized I hadn't needed a book to distract me from my mother's letter after all.
But I definitely needed one now to distract me from Granger.
I couldn't wait until everything returned to normal at the end of the week and she was out of my life for good.
June 25, 1999
He really was dead.
Gone.
"Draco, I never gave up on finding your father." Narcissa choked back a sob. "I knew he was gone when his safe opened and all the letters and papers he had charmed to appear to his closest kin upon his death were there."
I sat in my father's armchair, his last will and testament clenched in my hands, millions of his documents and bills spread across his expansive desk.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I hissed. "It's been almost two months, Mother. How could you keep that from me? Give me false hope? Let me believe that you had given up on him?"
"It was important for you to focus on your grades, Draco. It's what your father would have wanted," she said softly, not meeting his eyes.
"How would you know what he would have wanted? He's dead, Mother!"
"I'll not have you raising your voice at me, young man!" Narcissa growled. "You are far too old for that type of behavior and I won't tolerate it."
I glowered at her. She stood up imperiously. As she stared at me, the coldness in her eyes slowly warmed and she sighed. She dipped down and kissed my head swiftly.
"I'm sorry, dear. This wasn't easy for me, please understand that."
Immediately, I feel bad for snapping at her. She had to deal with my father's death on her own for two months. She had no one.
"Mother, I - "
"I have a guest list to draw up," she cut me off swiftly, blinking back her tears and exiting hastily.
Man of the house, I thought bitterly, staring down at my father's will, which left everything to me. Every drop. All of the bills for the wards which protected our house, our manor, everything.
I stayed inside his office for hours into the night, eventually becoming so overwhelmed by what my father had left behind that I turned to his cabinet and opened his last few bottles of fire whiskey.
Now I understood why my father drank so much.
Eventually, the air in the study became too thick for me to breathe and I found myself outside, wandering aimlessly, numbly, down the moors.
The nighttime air smelled of pine and dirt. It wasn't cold outside, but a lonely, timid wind sighed through the inky sky, whispering secrets to the low fog that clung to the murky water below. The streetlamps were dim and faded, smoky against the hazy night.
"I tried for so long to make you proud," I muttered slowly.
I hoisted myself up onto the bridge wall so that I was clinging to the rods that suspended the bridge. The water rushed below me, like blood pulsing through veins. It was rhythmic, soothing.
"I tried to make you see me," I slurred. "I wanted nothing more…than for you to see me. For me!"
In a rage I'd never experienced before, I flung the bottle forward so that it leapt into the night air and tumbled to its death into the darkness below, swallowed up by the rushing river.
"But you never cared about wh-what I wanted," I continued forcefully. "It was always Voldemort. Good bloody r-riddance, I say. The only thing you taught me was how to be scared and cruel."
I felt the weight of my words as they left my lips. I felt ashamed for admitting them.
"And n-now the Dark bloody Lord is gone and you—you are too. You just couldn't l-live without him, could you, you bastard?"
A gushing, hollow wind swept through the moors and brushed against my shoulders.
"Serves you right, you—you—"
"Draco! What the hell are you doing? Your mum's been worried sick about you! It's four in the damn morning!"
Suddenly, I was ripped off the ledge, away from my soothing river. Someone began shaking me roughly. Through the haze, I realized Blaise had come to find me.
"Get off me, you arse," I growled, shoving him.
"Are you drunk?" Blaise countered, grabbing me. "Are you are barking mad? What the hell do you think you are doing out here by yourself in the middle of the night, on a bloody bridge? Do you know why this bridge was put up in the first place? Look at that river. Look at how close you had been to—"
"What's it to you?" I snapped forcefully, angered by his presence. "Why are you here?"
"God, you stink." Blaise cringed. "When was the last time you showered? Are you drunk?"
Stupid, ruddy Italian idiot, I thought snidely.
"Draco, you're my best mate," Blaise pressed. "Look, your mum told me what happened. She asked me to look for you. She told me that you'd run off earlier in the afternoon and hadn't been back since. That you found out your father…"
"Is dead?" I spat, laughing. "Yeah, what a welcome home present."
A flurry of high pitched laughs spilled from my throat.
"'Welcome back, Draco, glad you passed your N.E.W.T's. Happy late birthday, dear! Your probation's been lifted and you can legally use magic again. Oh, and you know how I held that funeral over Easter despite the fact you thought your father was still alive and you thought I'd just given up on finding him? Well, turns out he really is dead, and I've known for weeks but I decided to keep it from you until the night you returned.'"
Blaise blinked and then frowned hard. "Your mother explained the situation to me, Draco. She didn't want to tell you on your birthday when she received the news. She wanted you to focus on your exams. She did the right thing."
"Shut up about it," I snarled.
You don't know anything!
"Listen, you're scaring the shit out of everyone, especially your mum. This has got to stop, now. You realize you could've killed yourself?"
I snorted.
"Yeah, wouldn't that have been a treat. It's not like anybody would have missed me anyway," I said and Blaise shoved me, suddenly very angry, down to the cobblestone of the bridge.
"Don't you dare joke about that, you miserable sod!" Blaise shouted.
"Sorry," I mumbled, nursing my elbow. "Forgot."
"Oh, yeah, typical Draco," Blaise ground out. "Prancing about all high and mighty, forgetting everyone else's problems because his are always so much more important. You're a spoiled little brat, Draco Malfoy, and sometimes I really hate you. My father took his own life when I was five. I watched him do it. But I guess that small little detail just escaped your bloated egotistical mind when you decided to dance around on a bridge like a bludgeoning idiot."
"Shut up," I hissed. "Your dad's been dead for years. Mine was taken from our own bloody home almost three months ago, by people he trusted. Turns out they succeeded in offing him, too."
"Well, hate to break it to you, Draco, but that's usually what happens when angry Death Eaters want to blame people for the death of their master," Blaise stated bluntly. "Not to mention your family was the only family to be pardoned and Lucius had a lot of enemies. Few people were happy with the Minister's decision, as you remember. At least the Ministry caught who killed your dad and locked them away. Otherwise, you and your mum could be rotting away in some ditch somewhere, like him."
Blaise paused and then said, "Your dad wouldn't want you acting like this."
I flew toward Blaise.
"You don't have a clue what my dad would want from me!" I hollered, shoving him roughly. "He would want me to be like he was. He always wanted me to be just like him. Well, now I am!"
Blaise grabbed me roughly as I stumbled and threw me into the rods suspending the bridge.
"You are not your father," Blaise told me slowly and forcefully, looking me straight in the face, both of us panting. "You are Draco Malfoy and you are your own bloody person. You have a whole life ahead of you and a whole future set for grabs. Your father ruined his reputation and good standing so that you could have a shot of being more than him. Don't throw that away just because of your father's mistakes. He loved you more than you could know and all he wanted was for you to be strong and upstanding, something that he could never be. It's why he pushed you so hard. All he did was so that he could keep you and your mother safe. Maybe he wished he could be more like you, have you ever thought about that?"
"No," I said numbly and suddenly, without my consent, by body betrayed me. Sobs racked through me, escaping my lungs.
"You need to shape up, Draco," Blaise sighed after a long silence, gripping me hard. "You need to be strong for your mother. You need to be a better man for your father. And you need to be honest with yourself."
"I don't know how to live anymore, Blaise," I admitted hollowly and pulled something out several documents from my pocket. "We didn't want to believe it for so long…that we would find him one day…"
I held the long scroll of parchment up to Blaise, like a question in the wind. Blaise stole it from my grasp, letting the black ribbon that secured its pages together to flutter to the cobblestone. Unrolling the rather long scroll, Blaise began to skim the elegant and slanted writing on the parchment.
"What is this?" Blaise murmured.
"My father's last will and testament, securing everything to me—the Malfoy fortune and all its heirlooms, my father's trusts, the deed on the manor and the estate, all of my father's assets—"
Blaise rolled it back up, shaking his head.
"This is some kind of joke," Blaise muttered darkly. "He hasn't left a single thing to your mother. You can't really be expected to run everything."
I laughed dryly and rolled my eyes. "You wouldn't know about that because your mother is quite manipulating when it comes to swindling men out of their money and turning it over to her. My father strongly believed that everything be passed to me so I could support my mother should anything happen to him."
"She's perfectly capable of running things herself," Blaise argued.
"My father was very old fashioned and Mother agrees with my father," I explained. "I don't agree with it either, but we grew up in a shifting society. Everything's mine to do with as I please. My mother has her private accounts, but they are nothing compared to my father's, so it's up to me to ensure everything is settled and my mother is taken care of."
"But look at this," Blaise protested, gesturing to the scrolls. "Everything was turned over to you, including all of his debts."
I swallowed, suddenly feeling overheated and overwhelmed. "I know."
"There's not enough money in what he's handed over for you to pay that off! More than half of these markets have closed since the investors have been placed in Azkaban, the businesses foreclosed. He's lost all of that money, Draco. Just look at how much he owes people."
"Yeah, he's set on ruining my future even when he's rotting away," I mumbled and my words came out slow and hard. "We're poor. We have nothing left. Even if we sold everything it wouldn't make a dent in half of these debts. I went back to school because I couldn't get a job after the Trace was put back on me at my trial because I couldn't use magic, but who's to say that was the only reason why I couldn't get a position? My father burnt a lot of bridges within the Ministry."
"You were pardoned, Draco," Blaise consoled. "That's got to mean something. They can't turn you down just because you were accused of something. I mean, the Minister himself wrote you off. They shouldn't be able to discriminate against you and if they did I'm certain you would be able to address the Magical Law Enforcement or the minister himself!"
I shrugged.
"Draco, you know all you need to do is just ask and—"
"I will not ask you or anyone else for money," I interrupted roughly.
"Draco, if it could help—"
"No!"
Blaise closed his mouth and shook his head. "Your pride frustrates me."
"I will not take what is not mine as my father did and further complicate our condition. I would owe you and I'm not certain I could ever repay you and I could not risk our friendship over some petty loan."
"Oh, please," Blaise scoffed.
"It happened to my father," I snapped. "Steadily, over the years, the more he took the more he lost and he lost more than money."
"Fine. If you won't allow me to help you with your finances, at least let me be a friend and take you out. We need a vacation," Blaise stated.
"What do you mean?" I wondered.
"Remember how we made that vow to each other in second year that after we graduated Hogwarts we'd travel the world together?"
"No money," I grumbled. "Can't. Gotta find a job."
"What if I told you I could make both of those things happen?"
I rolled my eyes. "I don't want your pity, Zabini."
"I'll talk to my department head tomorrow. He values my opinion and I've become quite the valuable asset to him. So, if I drop the word, I'm sure I could spring you an interview. And the best part of it is once you get the job, we can travel all we want—it's our job to see the world."
I turned around to stare at him. "You would do that for me?"
"Of course I would, you nutter. So, what do you say?"
"What do you get from all this?"
"I'm just being a friend, Draco. No strings attached, you don't owe me anything. For once, let someone do something nice for you," Blaise insisted.
"Oh, bloody hell. Why not? If you can get me the job, I'll do whatever you want for the rest of your high-fashioned life."
We shook hands and then Blaise slung my arm around his shoulder and we both staggered away into the mist of the moors outside the manor.
Maybe my future wasn't doomed after all.
July 1999
I didn't get the job, not right away.
But I was given a chance to prove myself.
Blaise was asked to join me for training purposes, but I had to make the deal alone.
My first assignment was a test, to see if I had what it really takes to make it in the trading industry.
A week in Berlin to negotiate a deal with a high-level company that bred a very rare dragon species. A trade from our government with theirs. We wanted access to the dragon hide that was shed and the scales to advance our medicine and clothing. In return, we would offer them something which they needed.
So far, it wasn't looking well for me.
The CEO of the company wouldn't even give me the time of day.
I glared at the secretary at reception. I'd been standing her, persistent, for the last thirty minutes and they would not let me past the conference doors.
"I can't let you through, Mr. Malloy," said the woman sharply, her voice heavy with German. "Mr. Zieglend is not available."
"You're very mistaken," I snapped. "We've had this appointment scheduled with him for over a month. I have his confirmation signature right here as proof."
The secretary stared at me hard. "He will not see you. Stand there all evening if you must, Mr. Malloy."
"I very well might just do that!" I simmered. "And it's Malfoy."
Sighing in defeat, I had almost given up.
Until someone spoke to me.
"Tough crowd, those Germans."
I turned to face the man that had spoken. His voice was low and pleasant, with dark undertones and thick with a crisp, French accent. He was tall and angular with a perfectly groomed goatee and thick, lustrous black hair. His brazen blue eyes looked at me with penetrating curiosity.
"That's the understatement of the century," I agreed darkly, throwing my contract and diagrams into my briefcase.
"Are you an intern?" questioned the man.
I sighed. "I'm nothing now. My entire future in this market rested on this trade."
"What did you say your name was again?" the man asked.
"Draco," I answered. "Draco Malfoy."
"Ah, quite nice to finally meet you," the man said. "I've heard great stories of you."
I furrowed my brow.
"I knew your father well," he explained. "I'm sorry for your loss."
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.
The man regarded me for a few uncomfortable seconds before he smiled.
"Don't waste your time on these vermin," he said. "You can't trust them, anyway. They're quite corrupt. Surely, your ministry wouldn't want to be making trades with a man of his reputation."
Again, I stared at him in confusion.
"Influential black market investor," the man whispered.
"How would you know that?" I wondered.
"I have many eyes, Mr. Malfoy," he responded cryptically. "I like to know my enemies and what I'm up against."
He patted me on the shoulder as he moved toward the front doors of the building.
"If this doesn't work out for you, I may have a proposal you'd like to hear," the man said. "An offer or deal, as it were. I have something I think you're ministry would be quite keen to get their hands on."
"And why should we make a deal with you? I don't even know who you are," I stated.
The man smirked, running his nimble fingers over his goatee. "I know a good trade consultant when I see one, young man. You'll want to take this deal, Mr. Malfoy, believe me. Unfortunately, I'll be leaving for Paris this evening. I'll fax you the paperwork - don't bother on the details of how, just know I will reach you. I'm sure you'll find all the convincing you'll need there. Believe me, Mr. Malfoy, what I have to give is much more valuable than cross-bred dragon skin."
Darting his hand into his suit jacket, he plucked a thin rectangle from its depths and passed it to me.
"You'll find all of my contact information on that," the man said. "It was good seeing you, Mr. Malfoy. Give my regards to your mother."
I held up the card as the man departed.
On it, scrolled in elegant black lettering was a name that seemed vaguely familiar to me.
Ambrose Greengrass
CEO, Greengrass Enterprises Holdings Inc.
Minutes later, the front doors to the building swung open and a thick scarlet envelope fell to my feet. I drooped down and scooped it up.
To the mercy of Mr. Draco L. Malfoy.
Shaking my head, I broke the seal and opened the document inside, skimming over the details. My eyes widened at the annual intake of the product. This was a million times better than the profit of dragon skin.
I may have a job after all, I thought, astounded.
It looked like Blaise and I were headed to Paris.
