All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling. The storyline is mine. T/AU/OC/Drama/Angst.
Sent to Switzerland by his mother shortly after the end of the War. Draco Malfoy has been enjoying life. However, a nasty run in with Hermione Granger, Terry Boot and Justin Finch-Fletchley at a conference in France forces Draco to change his entire mindset. After a five year hiatus, Draco decides to return to London determined to face his past and prove his worth as well. With all the mitigating factors. Will Draco prevail? Let's take a seat to watch the story unfold.
A/N: Possible Dramione pairing/May not have a happy ending.
Returning To His Roots: Chapter 1
Sitting across from his recently returned mate, Blaise was reading Draco a version of the riot act after they had somehow gotten onto the subject of Hermione Granger.
With legs crossed and a scowl on his face, Blaise lit into Draco. "Perhaps you have returned to London too soon. Your attitude and manner suggest you might do well taking your law practice back to Switzerland and opening an office there."
"Fuck you Blaise." Draco replied glaring at his former housemate as he continued to search his closet.
"Ah. Still the self proclaimed arbiter of all things Pureblood. Are you Draco? You may still hate Muggleborns," intoned Blaise. "But I will impart a bit of advice. If you intend to practice law in London, you might want to get over some of those Lucius instilled prejudices. Granger is a top notch Prosecutor with a top team who will rip the trousers off a defendant and leave him standing in his boxers. She is as brilliant as you when it comes to the law."
"Really?" Drawled Draco. "She is only seen as brilliant because she hasn't had any competition. Well now she has. And we shall see who will be left standing in their boxers. She does still wear boxers doesn't she? Your ebullient praise could lead one to believe you've been either under her robes or want to be."
Blaise let out an irritated sigh. "That statement was uncalled for Draco. Granger is not some slag. She is a perfectly lovely witch who happens to be a Muggleborn. It is that type of comment you should work to eliminate from your conversations. The shite is old. We know Granger is tough and unyielding, but she still deserves professional courtesy."
Draco turned from his closet to fix Blaise with another glare asking how long he had been a fan.
And Blaise had answered quite haughtily. "I'm neither a fan nor a detractor. I am a wizard who finds Granger….interesting. You are a mate so I am simply giving you fair warning. The old Pureblood regime still raises its head from time to time, but the majority of the population has either adjusted their perceptions or pretended to have adjusted their perceptions. The word Mudblood doesn't come up all that much anymore. One is either Wizard or Muggle. It's that simple. Not many will be pleased with your racist bullshite. However, as I have learned over the years. Draco Malfoy will do as he wishes and no one will be able to stop him.
Draco stood staring at his old mate before answering with a steely drawl. "Don't fucking overstep Blaise. Did you hear the word Mudblood come out of my mouth?"
"It was implied Draco."
"Implied my arse. I will not stand here and be chastised by a reformed….. What shall I call you? A reformed what? You seem to detest your Pureblood lineage. So what shall I call you?"
Heatedly, Blaise jumped to his feet. "Don't get this twisted Draco. I'm as much a Pureblood as you. But, unlike you, I am smart enough to realize that our world has moved forward.
A suddenly calm Draco summoned a bottle of brandy and two glasses setting them down on the side table in his room. "Consider me warned Blaise. I do wonder what my father will have to say about your little speech."
"Lucius?" Blaise questioned with disbelief in his voice. "Your father is one of the biggest pretenders. Those who truly know him know he is still predisposed to surround himself with Purebloods. However, in the professional arena Lucius acts according to the present mores. Lucius even has Halfbloods whom he calls friends. So you may run tell Lucius of our conversation. Come find me when he has answered. Times have changed Draco. I am only telling you what I think you should know."
Once again the conversation had begun to irritate Draco to such a degree he turned his back on Blaise throwing an answer over his shoulder. "Thank you for your insight Blaise, but at this moment I'd like to bathe and get ready for my first formal dinner with my parents since I returned. If you'll excuse me."
Shrugging into his outer robes, Blaise made one last comment. "I'm sure everything will fall into place once you have acclimated yourself to the new Wizarding Britain. With all that said. It is good to have you home."
/*/
Draco stared at the spot where Blaise had recently stood. So Wizarding Britain had changed. Less prejudice, more tolerance. Draco really hadn't seen that coming. He had purposely stayed away so long because he didn't want to deal with the old bullshite. He never thought wizards such as his father and others of his ilk would give up control so readily. And to think it had taken less than five years for the change.
Because he had been absent these last years, Draco hadn't ever had the chance to properly make amends for the things he had been forced to do during the War. That was troubling if he planned to open or join a law practice among those very people.
Draco had turned on his best Malfoy persona for Blaise thinking that was what was expected. Now, he not only owed most of London an apology, but his best mate as well.
/*/
Draco had only been back in London less than a week after being gone five years.
Immediately after the War, emotions had been raw with wounds still festering over the deaths of all those good and decent wizards and witches at the hands of Voldemort, his Death Eaters and other minions.
In the wake of it all, Draco had been whisked off to Switzerland as soon as the Wizengamot had judged him and his mother not guilty due to Special Circumstances. Not wanting anything to happen to her only child. Narcissa hadn't even kept Draco around long enough to attend his father's trial.
Narcissa herself did not want to meet her death by the hand of some vengeful relative. So, as soon as she had seen her son safely off to Switzerland. She had gone into seclusion to await the return of her husband and protector refusing all inquiries and turning away anyone who attempted to visit Malfoy Manor. She didn't need friendships. She only needed her son to be safe and her husband to come home. For everything else, the House Elves would take care of it.
Unlike Draco and Narcissa, Lucius had been made to stand trial. However, even as a criminal standing before a Magistrate. Lucius still had his ways and connections and managed to come away with a mere six months in Azkaban.
Malfoy pride had not let Lucius show gratitude at his slight sentence. Instead, he had once again made a great show of remorse to the court over letting Voldemort intimidate him and his family. The Magistrate only had four words for Lucius. Six months in Azkaban.
Lucius had been led out of the courtroom a seemingly beaten wizard. But, deep inside he had probably been very thankful his sentence had only come down to six months. His sentence could have been so much worse. For now, Draco and Narcissa were safe and he was probably safest in Azkaban away from those who would gladly curse him without mercy.
/*/
In Switzerland, Narcissa had everything arranged. Draco had been put into the hands of family friends who were paid handsomely to see that he finished his education and made something of himself while keeping far away from London.
Initially, Draco didn't have any issue with staying away from London. In fact, he was chuffed he wouldn't have to look at the filthy Mudbloods and Muggleborns strutting about trying to take over what rightfully belonged to the Pureblood population. That had been initially. Contrary to the shite he had spit out at Blaise. The Wizarding population of Switzerland hadn't tolerated his racist beliefs and Draco had found himself being brought to task by his classmates. Draco had spent his entire first year in Switzerland talking only to himself and by necessity his professors. By the end of his second year, he had completely dropped his pretentious behavior and had fit right in with the rest of the citizenry.
And that's how Draco passed the next two years. Adjusting, fitting in and excelling in everything law related. By the middle of his fourth year in Switzerland, Draco had been tapped to be an Assistant Prosecutor in a small but prestigious Swiss law firm. Again he had excelled and within nine months of joining the firm had prosecuted and won a dozen cases.
From there, Draco had begun building a reputation as a brilliant and tough Prosecuting Solicitor unaware that Hermione Granger had also chosen the same career path. The difference being, Hermione had returned to their roots the previous year and was firmly entrenched in a top spot in the Ministry being touted as a brilliant, fair-minded yet tough Prosecuting Solicitor.
What would Draco's thoughts have been had he known about Hermione's career and status? Who knows? It's certain he wouldn't have called her a dirty Mudblood. That part of his life was over. Never to be resurrected.
Draco took pride in his reputation. He didn't do a lot of partying or chase a lot of women, but he got along. Later on down the line. Pride in himself and what he had accomplished would ultimately be the reasons he decided to return to London.
/*/
Six months before Draco landed back in London. A few of his fellows had invited him to sign up for a prestigious, week long, International Symposium on Magical Criminal Law being held at the palatial Le Hotel Magnifique Conference Center outside of Paris.
Not expecting anything out of the ordinary, Draco had taken his mates up on their invitation without checking the roster of speakers or attendees. He had therefore been surprised to see Hermione Granger, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Terry Boot listed as presenters from England. Granger was scheduled to discuss Prosecutorial matters while Finch-Fletchley and Boot would discuss matters pertaining to the Defense and Sentencing. In that order.
Initially, Draco had thought about deserting the symposium not wanting to face Granger, Finch-Fletchley or Boot. He felt certain they wouldn't be at all pleased to see him either.
The next thought to cross Draco's mind had been, if those three had been invited to speak, why hadn't he. Looking around quickly as though someone might hear his thoughts, Draco cleared his throat and went in search of his Swiss mates promising himself he would remain professional if he bumped into any of the Brits. As long as they did the same. Draco was certain of one thing. He wasn't about to take any shite should they want to throw some his way.
/*/
The Conference Center had been set up by country. There were about two dozen attendees from Switzerland grouped together in the left middle of the hall. Draco, who was one of the last to enter found most seats within his area filled. Luckily, a female colleague who worked with Draco and had been on the receiving end of his dragon snake several times had saved him a seat.
As Draco passed by his mates, one of them whispered he should take care or would find himself being dessert for….. Letting his sentence trail off, the wizard gave a nod in the direction of the witch holding Draco a seat.
Straightening his robes, Draco answered almost jovially. "Do I detect a bit of jealousy in that statement? Wishing it was you then Baker? The Malfoy charm will always win out." Then Draco had moved toward the open seat and the witch who had saved it for him.
After thanking Beth for saving a seat, Draco had immediately opened the parchment in his lap which listed the roster of speakers by day and order. The Italian presenters were scheduled for that morning. Granger, Finch-Fletchley and Boot were scheduled for Tuesday. So on down the line with the French presenters taking the Thursday slot. Friday was listed as a free day to allow the different groups to network and mingle. Draco hoped the closest he would come to his former schoolmates would be from his seat in the audience.
/*/
The first presentation had gone well. Although the Italian team came across as interesting and quite lively. Most of the information they shared was a bit behind the times.
Several times during the presentation, Draco found himself getting annoyed with the witch beside him. Whether purposely or unconsciously, she was mimicking whatever the speaker was saying. Draco appreciated her saving him a seat, but was of the mind to change his seat after the lunch break.
As though she could read Draco's mind, the witch leaned in very close to apologize for rambling.
She was too close. Draco had to lean away to get her out of his personal space. This was a ramification of dating and shagging one of his colleagues. She was interesting enough when he was at loose ends, but that was always on his terms. He didn't like anyone, male or female, getting too close without being invited. Never had.
Trying to be diplomatic, Draco smiled in her direction. He certainly didn't want to alienate her either as a colleague or a casual date. The last thing he wanted to do was have to start searching for another witch who would take care of a stiff dick when needed.
Draco's smile must have reassured the witch because she reached out to touch him on the arm. "Have you made plans for this evening. If not, I was thinking we could have dinner then go sightseeing."
Draco wasn't in need of female attention. If he had been, he would have already had his plans in place. So he lied. "Actually Beth, I have plans to visit with my mother. She is usually at our home in the South of France at this time of year. I plan to surprise her a bit early this year. Perhaps we can do something later in the week."
Beth stared straight ahead as if memorizing the witches and wizards at the podium replying in a disappointed voice. "Alright Draco. Will you be around for the lunch being set out for the attendees? Perhaps we could have lunch together."
Beth was pushing and Draco didn't like it. "I assume all of the Swiss group will be having lunch together Beth. More than likely, we'll see each other there."
"Of course." Beth had replied evenly. "Well. If I don't see you for lunch, I'll see you in the after break session. The Brits are on for tomorrow. Do you know any of the presenters? I had hoped Harry Potter would be on as on the agenda, but I understand he is in the enforcement side of the law. I am excited to have the chance to meet Hermione Granger who some are calling the most brilliant prosecutor of the times. Although I doubt she's as brilliant as they say. They probably make that distinction only because she was such an integral part of your war."
Now Draco was really aggravated. He didn't want to talk about the war, Hermione Granger or the part he had played.
"My war?" Remarked Draco a bit sharply. "Not having been there. I'm sure you don't understand what went on. If you want full details, ask Miss Granger. That is, ask her after you've mentioned how you don't think she really deserves the reputation she has built. I'm sure she will love explaining it all to you. If you'll excuse me, they've called lunch break."
Reaching out, Beth caught Draco by the arm. "There's no need to be curt Draco. I was simply voicing my opinion. I wasn't trying to insult a war heroine. I'll see you at the table."
Draco nodded as he swept past the now empty seats where his mates had been seated. What the hell was wrong with him? He had just stood up for a witch who probably hoped he had died a horrible death against the witch he most likely would shag again in the future. He needed to get his priorities straight.
/*/
Draco's mates had already been to the food service and were seated at a table in the middle of the room. Draco raised his hand in a wave as he passed by to get his food. Baker had thrown up his hand in return.
Waiting in a short queue, Draco glanced surreptitiously around hoping not to see any of the British trio. He didn't. After reading the short bio and accomplishments listed under Granger's name. Draco could understand her being invited to speak at the symposium. Her reputation preceded her. But how did Boot and Finch-Fletchley come to be presenters? The information in their bios seemed bland and not at all star material.
Draco was so lost in thought that the wizard behind him had to clear his throat to get him to move. An embarrassed Draco quickly chose cheese soup, onion bread and a salad before hastily making his way to the group table.
"No meat Mr. Malfoy?" Asked a grinning Baker. "Or will you be having meat later tonight?"
The other wizards laughed when Draco asked Baker if his mum had ever told him it was impolite to speak with his mouth full.
"She did." Baker answered cheerfully. "But only to my betters. Which of course you aren't."
Draco had learned to take a ribbing over the last five years and had good naturedly told Baker to get stuffed before tucking into his own lunch.
After the banter, the men began discussing that morning's presentation in desultory tones punctuated with less than positive comments.
"They're at least three years behind us in Prosecutorial Procedure. How in bloody hell did they get invited to this conference?" Commented another of Draco's mates. "I've heard whispers that the Italian Ministry is a bit corrupt. That would explain why their Prosecutors don't know their arses from their elbows. They don't have to. Criminals get killed or bought off. But never prosecuted. I don't know about anyone else, but I plan to skip their afternoon presentation to hang about. I hope to get an introduction to the lovely Hermione Granger." He added cheekily. "I understand she is top form and very easy on the eyes as well. Perhaps Draco won't be the only one having a late night tete-a-tete."
Leaning back in his chair, Draco rolled his eyes at the man. "Have you looked in the mirror lately Clarke? You might want to start your search a bit lower."
"I'll second that." Chimed in Baker trying very hard but failing to stifle his laughter. "I had the pleasure of chatting with Miss Granger at sign in. She is a lovely woman. Perhaps you would like me to introduce you. Although I believe her colleague Terence Boot won't like that a bit. He literally growled at me for having a conversation with her. However, Miss Granger did not have a ring on her finger. So all's well that ends well. Mr. Boot can kiss my arse."
His mates held up their water glasses in a mock salute while Draco concentrated on his onion soup without offering a word.
/*/
The last thing Draco wanted was to be introduced to Hermione Granger. He had no desire to have her cut him to pieces over past behavior in front of his mates. He would pass on that one.
No one really knew his past. They only knew he had been an arrogant, racist bastard from somewhere in England whom they had successfully put in his place. The War, Death Eaters, Voldemort and his own traitorous behavior hadn't ever come up in conversation. And that's the way Draco wanted it to stay. He was banking on luck to keep him out of the path of Miss Hermione Granger.
"Take Clarke with you. I have other plans." Draco replied getting to his feet. "I believe I will skip the second session as well. Nothing there to learn."
Baker glanced around the table with eyebrows raised. "So. It would seem I was correct in assuming that Mr. Malfoy will be having meat this evening. Be careful then. Beth has her eyes on more than quick shags whenever you get horny."
"You're loud and vulgar today Wil. I can't say I find it very amusing." Draco replied in his best Malfoy tone. "I have a personal matter to see to which has nothing at all to do with Beth. I'll see you all in the morning."
/*/
Unfortunately for Draco. He had picked the wrong time to leave the table. As he crossed the foyer, someone called out his name. Turning, Draco found himself face to face with three former enemies.
Hermione had been first to speak.
"I saw you sitting with the fellows from Switzerland. I wasn't sure it was you. But how many people have that hair?" She remarked in a distinctly cold and unfriendly tone. "So. Here you are. Is Switzerland where you snuck your cowardly arse off to after the war? Or was that mummy's work? Couldn't have been daddy Lucius because his sorry arse was in a Ministry holding cell. People wondered what had happened to you. A great many of us thought and hoped you were dead. No such luck I see." Turning to Terry and Justin, Hermione sarcastically reminded Draco who they were. "You might remember Terry Boot and Justin Finch-Fletchley. But then again. Maybe you don't. You were too busy plotting to notice anyone not in your circle of despicable degenerates. You're not saying anything Malfoy. Cat got your tongue? Or perhaps you aren't….."
Draco knew he had done despicable things in the past. But that was the past. He wasn't about to stand in the middle of a hotel foyer listening to the bullshite coming out of Granger's mouth. Cutting across her, Draco gave her a very curt reply.
"I haven't responded simply because you haven't stopped talking or throwing your weight around. Seems as though you've taken on qualities of those you most despise."
Terry Boot didn't like Draco's words or tone and had quickly stepped up to him. "Who do you fucking think you are Malfoy?" He asked in a low growl. "To me you're nothing but a cowardly pussy who ran away rather than face what you had coming. But we all know if you had stayed in London. Oh excuse me. I mean Wiltshire where the rich and slimy reside. You would have had to take a shite load of curses and hexes from a number of people."
"Fuck you Boot," returned Draco. "I do not have any illusions as to how people feel about me, but I will not stand here and listen to the vitriol you good people have to spew. I see coming up on the winning side has made you all so much more congenial."
"Step away Terry. I don't need anyone to speak for me," snarled an irate Hermione. Then turning back to Draco she spit words of acid in his face. "You were a fucking loser back then and you are still a loser. If I had my way, I'd have Harry send his Hit Team to Switzerland to take care of your arse."
This bitch is unrelenting thought Draco. "Hit Team? And here I thought you to be this righteous defender of the law. If you think back, you'll remember my mother and I were cleared by the Wizengamot. But, by all means. Have Harry send out a Hit Team. I'd be glad to serve as Prosecuting Solicitor at your trial."
Both Terry and Justin began to speak, but Hermione held up her hand. "You prosecute me? In your dreams. You piece of shite." Looping an arm through Terry and Justin's arms, Hermione turned her back to Draco. "Come on men. The air in this foyer is foul. Let's get back to the Presentation Hall."
Before turning in the opposite direction, Draco gave a parting shot. "That's right boys. Keep up or she'll trade you in for someone even more malleable."
Terry and Justin turned back to glare at Draco, but Hermione pulled them forward without a backward glance.
/*/
A furious Draco strode over to the lifts rapidly pushing the button over and over as if constant pushing would bring the lift faster. He had to get to his room to have a shower.
When he had first arrived in Switzerland. Draco had forced himself to shower three to four times a day to rid himself of what he called the smell of guilt. It had been years since he last felt this way, but Hermione Granger and her minions had brought it all back.
Once inside his room, Draco ripped the robes off his back leaving them where they fell. Standing naked in the middle of the room, Draco summoned a glass and a bottle of brandy pouring two shots one after the other downing them both in one. After which, he had gone in to shower.
Later as he sat on the couch with another glass of brandy in his hand, a still angry Draco went back over his conversation with Hermione. The same lot who hated him still hated him. Five years hadn't changed anything.
Like a coward, he had run away and hid from those he considered enemies. That wouldn't ever happen again. Hermione Granger now knew where he lived. Soon the whole of London would know. Maybe Potter would send someone after him. At one time, a thought like that would have terrified Draco. Not so much now.
Draco was a different and wiser man who was ready to face the past and perhaps knock Hermione Granger and a fair few others off their tidy, little pedestals.
Sipping the last of his fourth brandy, Draco solidified his decision. He would return to London with the hard earned title Prosecutor of Fraud and Criminal Matters affixed firmly to the front of his robes.
/*/
After the symposium, it had taken Draco another five months to clear up his cases and other responsibilities. As a last gesture of good will, Draco had worked doubly hard to find another rising star to replace him in the firm. Which he had.
/*/
During his last night in Switzerland, Draco celebrated with the mates he had met over the last five years. The group included several female colleagues including Beth who had tried to initiate one last night of sex. After Draco's polite refusal, Beth had given him a kiss on the cheek, said a reluctant goodbye and left even though the celebration was still in full swing.
The next morning, Draco woke to find himself inundated by a parliament of owls at his window with well wishes and cheeky gifts attached to their legs. Then, assisted by a large dose of Grand Pepper-up Potion. A firmly resolved and fully sober Draco Malfoy had closed up his flat, Apparated to the Portkey Office and caught the first of two Portkeys which would land him back in Wiltshire, England.
His last thought before grabbing his Portkey had been. Thank you Switzerland. I'm the better for having been here.