Three.
Everywhere I love became everything that I hate
Now there's no room for broke asses like me
"keeping up" by Microwave
When it came to picking a future career, Draco Malfoy found that he was at somewhat of a disadvantage. Never once in his entire childhood and teenage years had he been asked "what do you want to be when you grow up?" It had just been assumed he would follow in his father's footsteps as a Death Eater and corrupt figure throwing money around to get his way. He would be a Malfoy, a loyal Death Eater, possibly the second coming of the Dark Lord according to some, and that was that.
However, now Malfoy was not a name anyone wanted to be associated with, let alone hire. Beyond his tainted surname, Draco did not technically finish his seventh year of Hogwarts or sit for his N.E.W.T.S. He also spent a couple months under house arrest as the Ministry sorted out just what exactly to do with him. Not to mention, he had the magical signature of the world's most hated wizard branded on his arm for the rest of time.
To say finding a career path had been difficult was like saying ice cream melted on a hot day. No one wanted to hire a former Death Eater that had attempted to murder his Headmaster. It didn't help that he had done nothing to help clear his name. He refused all interviews and kept to the Manor more than not. Some of the public felt for him… most held a grudge against the Malfoy name and rejected him outright.
In the first year after the war, Draco had attempted to find a career, but with each rejection notice or ignored owl, hopelessness had started to take over the blonde. Each day stuck in the Manor full of reminders of death and destruction became heavier and heavier. It was too hard to withstand the guilt from all the tragedy he had caused and too easy to be sucked into the past every time he passed the entrance to the drawing room. Even remodeled, he dare not enter the cursed room.
Draco was constantly plagued with thoughts of his choices. If he had made different ones. If he had not been a coward. If he had lied better. If he had not been so stubborn. If he asked for help.
Maybe he would not have had to force his favorite professor to murder for him. Maybe he would not feel responsible for the death of his friends. Maybe he would be in Azkaban instead of waking up from nightmares that sucked his soul and awoke him in a panic that would cause him to vomit over the side of his bed.
Maybe Theo would have never…
It was hard to make a life when Maybe's plagued every waking moment. He did his best to ignore them. Every morning Draco would get out of bed, go for a long run, take a shower that almost burned him, and pour himself a large glass of firewhiskey. But then he would hit a stone wall of nothing.
It was maddening. It was torture on his overthinking and guilty mind. And even when he could stop thinking, it was boring.
At first he tried to read. To do puzzles. To work out. To fly around the vast acreage of the manor. To get the house elves to teach him to cook. To run for hours. To write a new song on the piano. To drink himself into an even deeper stupor so the day would pass by quicker and then even that got boring.
His mother had tried to get him on her philanthropic committees, but sitting around a bunch of widowed pureblood housewives was just as thrilling as watching paint dry- which he had done for a few weeks when he tried out painting. He finally got excused from attending those events after getting so drunk he was found in the loo with the caterer on her knees.
After that, his mother worried about his drinking habits and addressed them in the best way she knew how: completely ignore them. In fact, she packed her things up and moved to their Chateau just outside Avignon. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her in person.
Fortunately, Draco was not the only former Death Eater spending his days marinating in self disgust. His Slytherin friend Blaise Zabini tended to come around the Manor when he could no longer stand his own thoughts. Usually they would just spend their time together bored in each other's company, ignoring their grief, while trying to drink their inherited and very expensive liquor collections dry.
It was not till Pansy Parkinson stepped through the Malfoy's fireplace one evening that the tomfoolery had started.
The three friends - yes, friends, for Pansy had stated right off the bat that she no longer had romantic feelings for Draco and if either of them brought up the past, she would hex them until their cocks fell off - spent the majority of their time together and the majority of that, drunk.
The first time they tried to visit The Leaky Cauldron, they were verbally attacked for being former Death Eaters and the two men had ended up arrested for partaking in the physical brawl that ensued. Pansy had flirted her way out of arrest and did not pay for their bail until the next morning just because, well, "idiot boys."
Once they realized they were not welcome in the Wizarding World, the three attempted getting intoxicated all throughout muggle London. To be fair, it wasn't the worst plan to combat their boredom, but it was not the best either. One particular night landed them in muggle lock up after they used magic to steal a car and see what all the fuss was about. Thankfully no one but a post box had been injured, but it was enough to force them back to drinking at home away from anyone but themselves.
This left them, once again, getting drunk and bored with a rotating schedule of who's home to laze about. On this particular late summer day, the three of them had been outside by the olympic sized pool behind the Malfoy Manor enjoying the last warmths of summer when an owl had dropped the letter with the Hogwarts' seal into Draco's lap. While Zabini fooled around on his newest broomstick, Draco perched on a chaise reading from one of the ancient texts from his family library.
From a pool float where she was sunning in a black bikini in an attempt to bring some sort of color to her inked skin, Pansy eyed the envelope with disdain.
"If that is another attempt from Astoria to get you to fulfill your marriage contract, I'll go over there and hex–"
"-her tits off," Draco finished with an eye roll. "We know."
It had not been Pansy's first time threatening the other pureblood witch and Draco knew it would not be her last. The men had taken her wand away the last time they had run into Astoria and her sister at a benefit function their mother put on. She hated the Greengrasses with an envy she would never say aloud, but the males were fully aware of; unlike Pansy, neither of the Greengrass daughters had been forced to take the Mark.
Pansy now hid her Mark among a myriad of muggle tattoos. It had first started with a sleeve of her favorite constellations and planets, but soon spread to other parts of her body featuring anything and everything she could think of that made her smile.
"Someone needs to explain to her that since The Ministry has declared marriage arrangements illegal, the contract is null and void," Blaise stated logically as he came down from the sky closer to them. It had been a move to try to lessen the pureblood biases, and while none of them believed it would work in the long run, they weren't complaining about their broken contracts either.
Blaise stretched out in his swim trunks and a black t-shirt that hugged his muscular arms despite the muggy heat of the day. Normally he would never be seen without sleeves, but the Manor was one of the only places he felt safe from judgment from the mark on his forearm he had also been forced to wear.
Forced to wear because of Draco and his stubborn pride. Because of his immature need to prove himself. Because he was so brainwashed and starved for approval that he asked to be Marked.
His guilt was a parasite refusing to let him die for his sins.
"She knows, but she still thinks we have potential," Draco drawled with an eye roll to force himself to look away from Blaise's Mark, "but it's not from her."
The platinum blonde turned the envelope over in his hands, debating if it was something he really wanted to open. What the hell could Hogwarts want with him? All he could think of was possibly asking him to return to take his N.E.W.T.S. now that the school was back open, but he could not see the point in testing now. Even if he got an Outstanding in every single subject offered, Draco doubted it would help him secure any sort of career.
"Oh? Her sister then? She can rot too," Pansy snipped and replaced her large sunglasses over her eyes though both men knew she was rolling her eyes once again.
"You look great in green Pans, but not this shade," Blaise noted as hovered next to them with his toes just barely touching the ground. Pansy raised two fingers as a response.
Draco ignored their banter as he lifted his sunglasses from his face and settled the dark shades in his hair as he read over the letter. The sharpness of his jawline matched the piercing stare from his eyes as they skimmed over the parchment. "It's from Hogwarts."
"What now? Is McGonagall making you finally go finish your seventh year?" Pansy scoffed.
"She couldn't possibly be asking for more money."
Draco ignored them both.
"It's offering me a position," he said with raised eyebrows. "As a Professor."
Blaise laughed so hard he fell off his broom. "You? A professor? Is McGonagall bloody mad?"
"I dunno. You could be good at it," Pansy voiced, her tone serious in her answer. Draco looked at her questioningly, unsure if he should trust her. Pansy took a long sip of her wine and then added with a smirk, "Then again you know you can't touch any of the underage girls."
Draco groaned, having been right not to trust her. "Merlin, it was one time. She was perfectly legal once it turned midnight."
"Yes but you had already shagged prior to midnight," Blaise reminded him with a shit eating grin that took up his whole face as he pulled himself off the ground and sat at the end of Draco's chaise.
Draco took a large sip of his firewhiskey to dim his stress headache before reading the letter over again. A professor? That taught children? He didn't even like children when he was a child.
"Professor Malfoy does sound sort of sexy though," Pansy mused.
"Except the whole former-Death-Eater-teaching-young-children mass hysteria that it will most likely cause," Blaise pointed out.
"Killjoy," Pansy muttered.
But Blaise was right. Draco could already see the headlines in the Daily Prophet about his hire. "DEATH EATER AT HOGWARTS! IS YOUR CHILD SAFE?"
Draco set the letter aside for the rest of his friends' visit, using it as a bookmark and doing his best to forget it existed. To help the forgetting along, he grabbed the bottle of fire whiskey and drank down the entirety of it before joining Pansy in the water.
—-
It was the next day when Draco was reminded of the letter again. He had made it to the dining room table for breakfast, though it was sometime around two in the afternoon. He was still unsure if he was hungover or still slightly drunk, when he found the book he had been reading to be sitting next to his tea.
He stared at the envelope sticking out of the book while simultaneously trying to think of a spell that could destroy the sun completely. Placing his head in his hands, he wondered how much longer he could keep living like this. While he was thankful for his friends at least keeping him away from the crippling depression that brought him back to his bed for days on end, he knew the moment they found something else to do beyond murdering their bodies with liquor then he would be alone once more and he couldn't be alone. Not again.
Of course being a professor seemed like a very, very bad idea but as he gulped down a hangover solution potion that barely made a dent on his headache, he wasn't sure how he was currently living life was much better.
Draco plucked the letter from the pages to read it over once more. With each word it seemed like a worse and worse idea. McGonagall hadn't even had the nerve to sign the letter, just closed it with 'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry awaits your decision.'
This was a mistake in the making, yet he still conjured a quill from thin air and wrote at the bottom of the letter: I accept.
Draco watched the ink sink into the paper and then transform into a ticket for the Hogwarts Express.
"Tisley," he called for a young house elf that had always been his favorite.
The young house elf appeared with a pop and a knowing smile that told him she had been the one to put the book on the table so he could once again find the letter. Little snoop reading his mail.
"Could you please find my traveling trunks for me? And send them to my room? I'd attempt but-" he began to feel his stomach turn. "-I think I'm going to be sick," Draco groaned as he pressed his forehead down on the cool wooden table.
"Yes Master Draco," Tisley said and then conjured a porcelain toilet next to him with a slight giggle.
Draco would have glared at her if he had not been so grateful.
—
A week later, Draco arrived early to the train so as not to be seen, Draco found a compartment all to himself and locked the door. With a simple spell he darkened the windows so that no children would be tempted to socialize with him. Out of his bag he pulled a flask of firewhiskey and took a long sip. He would rather pass out from liquor than sit the whole ride in nothing but his thoughts.
Upon leaving the Manor, Draco had written a note to his mother and sent it off to France by owl. She would be supportive, more or less, he supposed. Or at least happy he was doing something with his life finally. He had decided to not tell his father in person and let his mother break the news. Lucius Malfoy was intimidating and stern, but Narcissa Malfoy was not someone you cross and she never lost a debate.
"I wonder if there will even be a Slytherin house anymore; no one wants to be in it anymore," he heard a child's voice as they passed the door.
Draco groaned and pressed his hand to the bridge of his nose as he slunk in his seat. Though raised with the best posture and manners in public, at the moment he really couldn't give care.
This was such a bad idea. This was worse than stealing that muggle car. This was worse than getting drunk and having a romp with Astoria Greengrass while having no intention to go through with their marriage plans. This was worse than when Pansy found out about him getting drunk and having a romp with Astoria Greengrass while having no intention to go through with their marriage plans.
In a desperate attempt of self preservation, and maybe so he wouldn't continue to feel like throwing himself out the window of the fast moving train, Draco cast a silencing spell on the cabin so he could no longer hear any more child voices. His own voice of self hatred inside his head was enough to listen to for the long train ride.
Draco closed his eyes attempting to sleep, but his mind drifted to the last time he was at Hogwarts. Not the final battle, thankfully, but the fifth anniversary carnival earlier this year that he attended alone. Blaise and Pansy had refused to attend no matter his attempts at bartering for their company. Draco himself almost bailed but his mother noted how poorly it would look if a representative of the family- especially since it would highlight the Malfoy's as still prejudiced purebloods that were only attempting to make amends with money and not truly believing in the cause. Again, Narcissa was not someone you cross and she never lost a debate.
Oddly enough, it was Draco's idea to donate so much. He and his father had decided on a sum but as the ink met paper, Draco found himself adding three extra zeros at the end of the already large number. For the life of him, Draco couldn't remember what made him write such a large check and why, when he sealed the envelope, he thought about Hermione Granger.
The day of the Celebration had gone relatively peacefully; no one seemed to want to point out that a Malfoy was there or bring up the bad memories surrounding his family's role in the destruction of the rebuilt building.
It was the look that Hermione Granger had given him that haunted his daydreams.
Her chocolate eyes pierced through him that sent him back into third year. He half expected her to storm over to him and break his nose all over again. But then he noticed a soft blush to her cheeks. He had seen photos in the paper, but seeing her in person made him realize how her once pretty features had grown into a hallmark of beauty that almost hurt his soul. Quickly, Draco realized he had to look away before he'd be caught staring.
Thankfully, he had been taught young how to mask his features and bury his emotions down deep. Thankfully, he was able to slip away before she looked back at him and could see his own flush of pink on his pale cheeks. Thankfully, he did not run into her again and have any more sordid thoughts of her underneath him.
The only part of the exchange that had truly bothered him was as Potter came a step closer, there was a slight prick of pain underneath the skin of his arm.
His arm with the Mark.