A/N: I'm soooooooooooooo sorry! I don't want to make excuses, but it's really all I can give you. School's started and a BioMed major is a toughie! Thank you all for being so patient and (hopefully) forgiving. Enough of that, here's what we've all been waiting for!

Chapter 2: Malfoy Industries

"Zabini!" Draco shouted from his private office.

A curt knock resounded from the door and the man let himself in. Draco studied him for a moment, remembering his childhood friend. Blaise was the epitome of every woman's fantasy. Tall, dark, and handsome. Draco wasn't the type to be jealous of another man's features, but it was Blaise's confidence that made him wonder what it would be like if he had the same abilities.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" he said, his playful tone obvious, "You know, unlike you, I've actually got a mountain of work to do without having to be at your beck and call".

"Actually, you're paid quite well to be at my beck and call," Draco scowled, "How are the reports on the Parkinson investment? I don't want to lose this client, Blaise. Expanding overseas is going to be impossible without the help of Pansy's parents".

Blaise smirked as he handed Draco the folder he had brought in with him, Draco hadn't noticed that earlier. His brow furrowed as he read through the file. Blaise was his right hand man, he knew what Draco wanted before Draco knew himself. They had become best friends after the war and he was the only person Draco could call a friend. Unfortunately, Death Eaters don't appreciate an ex-Death Eater turning to the light. That had cost Draco the few friends he had during his time at Hogwarts. However, Blaise was different. Choosing to remain neutral during the Second Wizarding War, Blaise had forgiven and forgotten, easy as that. Things were different for Draco. He was still haunted by his past and he envied Blaise's easygoing attitude towards it all.

"Right, well, if that's all, I'll be heading out", Blaise said, his eyes glinting, "I've got a date with a bodacious blonde tonight and the curves on her go all the way from her-"

"Alright, just go", Draco cut him off, a scowl adorning his face once again. Draco had come to realize that if Blaise was allowed to talk for any longer, he'd have the image of this 'bodacious blonde' ingrained into his memory.

Draco sighed to himself as Blaise let himself out. He glanced at the clock, half past five. He might as well head out as well; not like anyone was going to make the CEO of Malfoy Industries stay late anyway. Draco had come into ownership of the company shortly after the war. His father, having somewhat reformed his ways, was given a short stay in Azkaban and thus had handed the title of head of the family down to Draco. His mother, along with himself, had been forgiven for her crimes against the light. It seems she had saved pothead when he had gone and gotten himself Avada'd, thus saving the entire wizarding world.

"I'll be heading out Louise", Draco barked at his secretary. Honestly, the woman was so old; Draco was unsure how she managed to handle his day to day meetings and appointments. There was no reply, which meant she hadn't heard him, but he was beyond caring and he just wanted to be home.

He dropped a handful of powder into the floo and stated, "Malfoy manor" and was whisked away into the flames.

"Draco darling, I was just about to ask Remy to put on a kettle for tea, would you like to join me?" his mother cooed as she walked past him and into the kitchen. He loved the woman, he would do anything for her, but she had decidedly begun treating him like a child again after nearly losing him in the war. Although she wouldn't show it, the war had taken a toll on her, emotionally. She was as regal as she had ever been. Narcissa had not aged a day. Her silky black-blonde hair flowed down her back. She had the aura of royalty. However, there were times when worry colored her beautiful features. When Draco was unusually late from work or when his father had taken a longer stroll through the gardens, Narcissa had become delirious with worry.

Draco glanced around the room, as he always did when he came home from work. Something had always seemed missing to him in his home. Of course, there was an infinite amount of luxuries at his disposal. Millions of galleons worth of furniture adorned each room. Paintings dating back to the times of Merlin covered the walls. His first decision as head of the Malfoy family had been to remove all paintings of bitter pureblooded ancestors and had moved them to the East corridor.

"Hops!" Draco shouted, knowing the little house elf was around.

With a loud pop, a tiny figure appeared in front of him. Hops was his personal house elf. Draco hadn't loved many things about his childhood, but Hops was his favorite. He truly cared for the little creature and treated him with kindness. However, this only applied to Hops. Draco despised Remy, his mother's house elf.

"Hops, take my things to my bedroom and run a bath. Also, I'd like a hot cup of coffee", he ordered and began walking after his mother and into the kitchen.

"Mother", Draco began, "how has your day been?"

"Well, dear," She began excitedly, "I've got a surprise!"

Draco's brow creased in worry. He knew exactly what this meant. It had been almost 5 years since the war. Draco was a mere 21 years old. Barely legal in some parts of the world, but that didn't stop his mother. She had begun throwing parties and functions and fundraisers in hopes of Draco finding a wife.

Noticing the look on his face, Narcissa quickly continued, "You know dear, it's been quite a while since we had our last fundraiser. Do you remember it? The one with the winter theme?"

Draco remembered it quite well, actually. It had been one of the biggest fundraisers his mother had ever thrown. She had decided to go all out, per se, and turned the entire ballroom into a winter wonderland complete with ice statues and blue toned drinks galore.

"Now, if you keep making that face, it'll stick", she joked, "I've decided we're throwing a fundraiser for the Second Wizarding War."

Although she had a cheery tone, he could see the underlying worry.

"It's been nearly five years since the war", she continued, "We must throw a fundraiser to donate to the lives of those affected."

His mother had always been charitable, but after the war, she had become more passionate towards the charities she donated to. Draco knew her reasons. They were similar to his reasons for attending. They were both guilty of their crimes and had been forgiven, but the guilt was still there.

"Alright", he complied. He knew nothing he said would talk her out of it, but if it made her happy, he didn't mind.

"Oh, I've got so much to do", she picked up her cup of tea with a renewed sparkle in her eyes and pecked Draco on the cheek and disappeared through the double doors. He knew he was in trouble this time; she seemed extra excited, in comparison to previous functions.

He walked in the opposite direction, through the West wing, pulling at his silver tie. He needed a bath and his coffee.

He entered his bedroom, still painted a dark forest green from his childhood. Although he was a Slytherin, Draco truly loved the color. He passed his four poster bed and walked into the large bathroom.

Assuredly, Hops had done exactly as Draco had said and a warm bath was awaiting him accompanied by a hot cup of coffee. He undressed and slid into the warm water, feeling the fresh sting of its heat on his body. He closed his eyes as he felt his entire body relax at the feeling, his stiff muscles unwinding and his aching head relaxing at the scents of sandalwood and rose.

He took a sip of his coffee; it was exactly how he liked it. Hops was a wonderful house elf, always remembering how Draco liked things. The sandalwood and rose combination was entirely his idea and although Draco was skeptical at first, the scent had become a relaxing and calm essence.

Although Hops had charmed the bath to stay at its hot temperature, the sheer shine of sweat on Draco's face warned him it was time to get out. He was exhausted as he lazily dried his body with his matching silver towels. Honestly, it wasn't a Slytherin thing, he simply loved the colors. He slipped on his silk pajama pants and climbed into his bed and was consumed by the darkness of sleep.