Chapter 1

"Oi, Draco! Beef pot pie and chips for table #5, ready and waiting."

Draco Malfoy walked to the small window separating the dining area from the kitchen and took the tray Chip, owner and cook of Chip's at Cheapside Cafe, left on the counter. He headed for table #5 where an elderly woman was waiting.

"Here you go, Mrs. Whipstaff. Beef pot pie and chips straight from the oven. Enjoy your meal."

"Thank you, dear. You know how much I look forward to this." Mrs. Whipstaff smiled at Draco, giving him a glimpse of how she must have looked like as a little girl.

"I know, Mrs. Whipstaff. It's your Thursday afternoon tradition. Beef pot pie and chips at Chip's." Draco smiled at her. He had been working at Chip's for the last two years as a waiter and Mrs. Whipstaff was one of the regulars he looked forward to seeing every week. Always ordering beef pot pie on Thursdays.

"Why don't you stay for a bit, dear, I have good news for you. Have a seat."

Draco looked around the cafe. Everything was under control, he could chat with Mrs. Whipstaff for a bit. "What news, Mrs. Whipstaff? Did you finally hear from your solicitor about selling your apartments?"

"Oh yes, yes. He's had the paperwork ready for about a week now and he's contacted some brokers who would help me sell my properties. But that's not the good news, dear. Remember I've been telling you about my god-daughter who lives in Ireland?"

Oh no, here we go. Another one of Mrs. Whipstaff's Thursday traditions was trying to get Draco to meet young girls. "Yes, Mrs. Whipstaff, but I don't recall you telling me her name." He said as politely as he could, hiding the dread underneath a warm smile. The last girl Mrs. Whipstaff introduced to him, who, according to her, was "the sweetest, most wonderful girl in the Surrey", turned out to be a sex fiend who tried to put her hand in his crotch the minute they were alone and told him to "talk dirty" to her. He almost had a heart attack. He liked women and he liked sex just fine but his upbringing in the Wizarding World had not prepared him for the brazeness of some of the Muggle women he had met. In a lot of ways, the Wizarding World was a lot more conservative when it came to sex, and while Draco found the sexual openness of most Muggles refreshing, it still shocked him how open some Muggles were. Merlin, that last girl was wearing crotchless knickers and told me so over dinner!

"Her name's Helen and she's coming over to visit next week! It would be so good if you could meet her, don't you think, dear?"

"Uh... yes, of course." He genuinely liked Mrs. Whipstaff. She was a flaky, old woman who never failed to make Draco laugh with her stories about her wild youth during the 1960's, burning bras, and getting high on recreational drugs and free love. He had never met anyone like her; his childhood never allowed for such "frivolity", especially with parents who were overly-concerned with the Malfoy name and public image, not to mention their obsession with the Dark Arts and that cruel, snivelling monster called Voldemort. To Draco, meeting and getting to know Mrs. Whipstaff marked just how much he was unaware of and what he had missed with his Pureblood, racist and socially-stiff upbringing.

"So you'll meet her? When? Where?"

"Um... why don't you have lunch with her here when she arrives, Mrs. Whipstaff? That way, it won't be so awkward, don't you think?" And yeah, not to mention, she won't be able to try anything too brazen in public and in front of Mrs Whipstaff. I hope.

"That's a wonderful idea, Draco. Well, she's arriving on Sunday so I'll bring her here on Monday. That's not your day off, right?"

"That's fine, Mrs. Whipstaff. I'll be here on Monday, I promise."

The chimes above the cafe door tinkled as it opened as new diners came in. "Mrs. Whipstaff, there are new customers so I'll have to get back to work. I'll see you Monday, and enjoy your meal. Excuse me."

"OK, dear."

~~~~~

"It's official, Draco, you are a doormat" Chip said as Draco stepped out into the open backlot of the cafe to have a quick cigarette before he left work for the day. "You got her to set you up with another one of her young women, haven't you."

"Yeah, well. You know, it's hard to say no the old girl. Get off my case" Draco shrugged as he lit his fag.

Chip laughed and shook his head. "OK, OK, I'll stop teasing, but you're going to have to learn to say no to her because you might find yourself married to one of those weirdos if you don't."

Draco chuckled and pretended not to hear anything. As he enjoyed his smoke, he took a look at his surroundings, including Chip, a balding, beefy, sixty- year old man with leathery dark skin. It never failed to amaze him that he, Draco Malfoy, Pureblood Wizard, Heir of the Malfoy fortune and former Hogwarts Head Boy, ended up in Muggle London, working as a waiter for a small cafe for a man Lucius would have thought beneath a house-elf, and enjoying himself most of the time.

Learning to be a Muggle had been one of the most difficult things that Draco had ever gone through. When he left the Wizarding World two years ago, all he had with him was a few articles of clothing that would pass off as Muggle wear, enough Wizarding money changed to UK Pounds to make sure that he would have enough to survive on, and the textbook used for the Muggle Studies class in Hogwarts from Flourish and Blotts. He couldn't bear to leave his wand behind but he had vowed to never use it again, so he put it in a charmed box that would prevent him from opening it without a wand. He had been able to find a studio-style flat easily -- he saw an ad for it just outside The Leaky Couldron -- but his first few months as a Muggle was one trial after the other. He had always lived with magic and he was not aware just how lucky he was that everything he needed to do was done with a quick swish and flick of a wand. Without his wand, he had no choice but to do things the Muggle way. While the Muggle Studies textbook was a big help, it was hardly enough. It had illustrated common Muggle practices and skills, true, but theory had always been easier than actual practice. By the end of his first two weeks as a Muggle, Draco had finally broken down and collapsed in a crying and desperate heap on the floor of his flat. Not only was he a failure at Muggle skills, he also realised that the money he had was not going to last another month.

He eventually collected himself and planned what to do next. So after three days of crying and beating himself up for his failure, he got up and dressed and headed out, vowing to not come back to his flat until he had accomplished something to improve his situation. The first item on his list was to get a job, so he bought a newspaper and walked aimlessly for a few hours, looking for a spot where he could read job ads as he didn't want to go back to his flat and give in to the temptation to lay down on his bed and die. His tired feet and his grumbling stomach eventually led him to Chip's at Cheapside Cafe. All he intended to do there that day was to get a meal and read his newspaper in private. Then he met Chip, who had to wait on tables and cook meals because the last waiter finally got his casting call for a local soap opera. In desperation, Chip offered the job to Draco when the young man told him that he was on the look out for employment.

"Hey, kid. I need to talk to you." Chip finally broke the comfortable silence and Draco's thoughts.

"Yes?"

"I hope you don't think I'm over-stepping my bounderies as your employer and friend, but I'm a concerned about you."

"Me? I can handle Mrs. Whipstaff's girls."

"No, not about that. I know you can handle that. I'm worried about something else."

"What?" Draco turned to face him.

"You're not waiter material and we both know it."

"Hey! I'm getting better at it. My skills have improved in the past two years. I haven't broken a plate in over a year already."

"Yes, Draco, but let's be honest. You've got way too much potential to be stuck here working as a waiter for the rest of your life. I'm serious. Have you put much thought as to what you want to do with your future?"

"Well, I haven't really thought about that, Chip. I'm just happy to be away from where I came from. Happy to get away from... from it all." Chip was able to tell right off that Draco was running away from something when the young man first showed up at Chip's, looking for a job and looking lost. Chip also suspected that Draco was hiding something and he thought it had to do with the young man's family, because he could tell from how Draco behaved and carried himself that Draco came from a blue-blooded family. When he had first given Draco a job at Chip's, the boy didn't even know how to boil water. Draco was aware of Chip's suspicions and he tried to stick as close to the truth as possible by telling Chip that, yes, he had run away from his family and their money. Draco knew that he could trust Chip, as the older man had proven to be a sort of surrogate father/brother to Draco in the past two years, but he didn't think Chip would be able to grasp the concept of the Wizarding World existing parallel to the only reality Chip has ever known. Besides, Draco had no plans to ever go back into the Wizarding World so he didn't see the point of discussing it with his Muggle friends.

"OK, Draco, you know I won't press you for details about your history, I'm really more concerned about your future, man. You're an intelligent young man, Draco, and no matter how much you try to overcome your upbringing, it still shows. You're meant to be more than a waiter at Chip's at Cheapside Cafe. No matter how a damn spanking waiter you've become."

That hit a nerve. Draco glared at Chip and raised his chin "Don't you dare tell me that I cannot overcome my upbringing. I can and I have. And I will continue to do so. I don't care to continue this discussion anymore."

He turned to leave but Chip laughed and said, "That's bloody it! Take a good look at yourself, boy. Sure, you've managed to re-invent yourself as some kind of blue-collar worker, and that's great, but look at yourself! When you're caught off guard, you always always end up showing your true self. Just like now, you're like some kind of bloody prince." Chip continued to chuckle.

"And your point would be?"

"Oh, Draco. I'm not saying that it's a bad thing. Hell, I admire the way you handle yourself, the way you command respect from others. Remember that time with the two drunken blokes who tried to harass that pretty girl from the uni? The way you stepped in and without even raising your voice, calmed everyone down and made those two losers feel ashamed of themselves... That's a skill. That's something that not everyone can do. And all I'm saying is that you've got potential, kid. Potential to be more than what you are now. And it's high time you think about those potentials and what you want to do with them before you end up a miserable and lonely has- been."

"Yeah, well..." Draco sighed and lit another cigarette.

"Didn't mean to offend you, kid. You know you're like a son to me. I'm just worried, ok? I don't want you to waste your potential."

"I appreciate it, Chip. Really, I do. I know what you mean... but... my life right now is so far removed from my former life and I like it. I really do. I don't think I'm ready to rock the boat just yet."

"OK, OK. I get what you're saying, and Chip's will be here for as long as you need it, but I won't stop nagging you about what you can be because I don't want you to waste your life."

"I know, Chip, and thank you." Draco extended his hand to shake Chip's.

"See? There you go, acting all princely and noble again!" Chip laughed but shook Draco's hand.

"You need to get a life, Chip."

~~~~

The conversation with Chip stayed in Draco's mind, niggling at the back of his head, reminding him of what he was and what he had become. When he got to his flat that evening, he tried to shut it out by watching television and having a few bottles of beer with his flatmates, Mike and Chris. Mike Mishima was half-Japanese and worked as an Aikido instructor at a near-by gym. Chris Mitchell was a musician, lead vocalist and pianist for his band "The Drifters". They were still waiting to make it big and so in the meantime, "The Drifters" had regular gigs at a few local clubs and weddings.

Like Chip, Mike and Chris suspected that Draco came from old money and was running away from a traumatic childhood. They never discussed it with each other and with Draco, but sometimes, they could hear Draco scream from nightmares in the middle of night. They respected Draco's privacy and never pried into his past and his business. Besides, they felt that confronting Draco about his nightmares would get them nowhere closer to their flatmate who had remained friendly and polite but very distant. They knew that such an intrusion would not be welcome so they left him alone.

Draco got up and left for his bedroom, saying a quick good night to his flatmates. There's no use avoiding what Chip said any more. It won't go away. Maybe a leaf out of Granger's book would help.

In their last year in Hogwarts, Draco and Hermione had been forced to come to a truce in order to work together as Head Boy and Head Girl. One of the things they had in common was a desire for excellence and perfection, which meant that if they were given a task, they had to do it as best as they could. So in order to fulfill their responsibilities as Head Boy and Girl, they agreed to discuss how they were going to do it professionally. That conversation was the first time Draco witnessed just how organised and rational Hermione was. She showed up at that meeting with several rolls of parchments, listing down what they have to do as Head Boy and Head Girl as well as her own list of things they should and should not do to each other in order to implement their truce. Draco remembered being amazed by how her mind worked, so methodical and logical. As he witnessed her at work, he began to develop a real respect for the girl and had found himself doing things with the same perfection and attention to detail as Hermione did. Like making lists in order to organise one's thoughts. To Draco, that was one of the most valuable things he had learned from the Head Girl.

He took out his pen and a notebook and began organising his thoughts.

As he plotted out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life, Draco couldn't help but think of his old life and the fear that the thought of it brought to him. There was only one reason why he had carved up a life for himself that was so far removed from the only life he had ever known and the life everyone expected him to live: he hated being Draco Malfoy.

He was never really too happy with himself, growing up. Happiness about one's self was impossible if one had Lucius Malfoy for a father and Narcissa Black for a mother. Draco grew up being told that he had to constantly improve and prove himself by crushing everyone else who was beneath him: Muggles, Mudbloods, Half-Bloods, Weasleys, House-elves, Half- creatures, stupid people, poor people, ugly people, weaklings. With his family's penchant for the Dark Arts, not to mention their wealth and power, it was not difficult to crush everyone in his path who neither lived up to his standards nor were useful to him. He became what he was raised to be: a spoiled, ambitious, malevolent, cruel, cunning young man hidden under perfect looks, perfect breeding, perfect social status, perfect money.

When his father was arrested at the Department of Mysteries in Draco's fifth year at Hogwarts, Draco's life fell apart. What he had thought was a perfect existence crumbled, leaving behind very little else but anger and shame. He remembered lashing out at Potter and Weasley before leaving school that year, deluding himself into believing that it was all Saint Potter's fault.

His anger sustained him that summer, until he was finally called upon by that monster, Voldemort, to take his rightful place as his father's replacement in the circle of Death Eaters. Meeting Voldemort was perhaps the turning point in Draco's life. He had to fight the urge to retch when he finally saw The Dark Lord in person. Voldemort was a monster, the kind that little children don't even have nightmares about because the kind of evil he manifested was beyond the any human being's worst nightmare. Out of fear, Draco accepted the Dark Mark. Out of fear, he took his father's place. As he witnessed Voldemort torture muggles and muggleborns to get information, to get them to do his bidding, and to simply get off on it, a bigger fear took over Draco: that he was going to grow up to be a monster. Out of that fear, he began questioning everything he believed to be true, looking for an alternative explanation for the existence of Voldemort and the cruelty that The Dark Lord reveled in.

Once the questions and doubts took hold of Draco, there was no turning back. His intelligent, inquisitive mind sought answers. His search led him to finally accepting that he had been lied to all his life, and that for all his intelligence and cunning, he was nothing but a fool and pawn in Voldemort's game. His pride, which was as much a part of him as his white blond hair and silver eyes, would not accept that and so he sought Dumbledore and offered to help in the war against Voldemort. He was nobody's pawn.

His righteous anger and pride tided him over in his sixth year at Hogwarts, providing a perfect distraction from the inner doubts that had plagued him upon his father's arrest. He led most of the Slytherins in his batch to betray their parents' pathetic cause and support for Voldemort. He played the part of a dutiful Death Eater while thoroughly enjoying divulging critical information to Dumbledore and Snape after every Death Eater meeting. He led two lives: a perfect Slytherin and Death Eater in public; a critical cog in Dumbledore's War in private. And he loved it. He loved the secrecy of it. He loved the cunning he had been able to exhibit. It didn't matter that he was now working for the Good Side, he had always been a Slytherin at heart.

His loyalty to Dumbledore proved to be good for Draco's personal ambitions during seventh year when he was named Head Boy. He half-suspected that the reason why he was given that badge was because Dumbledore did not trust him fully and thus arranged that he would be in the constant company and watchful eye of the Head Girl, whom Dumbledore trusted fully and unequivocally. It suited Draco just fine. He would have been disappointed if Dumbledore did anything less. Draco was such a Slytherin that he respected people for exhibiting Slytherin traits.

Life as a Head Boy working with a Muggleborn Head Girl was a revelation. Working with Granger, witnessing how her brilliant mind worked, made the questions he had buried under his anger and pride resurface. He had conveniently forgotten his doubts in his sixth year as he worked out his righteous anger. It wasn't until he began accepting that a Muggleborn witch was ten times better than all his Pure Blooded family members put together that he realised the core of his self-doubt: everything he believed in about himself was a lie. That was when he began being ashamed of himself. Ashamed of the stupidity that he had filled his head with. Ashamed of the false pride he had sustained himself with.

With shame eventually came humility, and Draco's shame was no different. By the end of the seventh year, he had fully accepted that all the things that he had been proud of - his good looks, his intelligence, his money, his pride, his Pure Wizarding Blood - meant nothing. Not in the face of Potter's genuine courage, Weasley's relentless loyalty, and Granger's innate goodness and brilliance. Of course, that did not keep him from snarking at Potter and Weasley every chance he got. There were things about them that irritated him still. Mostly their unwavering black and white view of the world, which to Draco, with his deep-seeded love for intelligence, meant that in some areas, they were as clueless and daft as Crabbe and Goyle. But not Granger. Granger could see shades of grey much better than anyone else. She could handle complex thought processes that made her question everything, a trait that Draco respected and admired.

When the war reached its pinnacle, Draco's true colours and true side were finally revealed. He had fought against Death Eaters, including his father, whom he eventually killed, and his mother, whom he eventually sent to Azkaban. But that wasn't enough. In the aftermath of the war, while he was formally being granted awards and citations for bravery and his role in the defeat of Voldemort, the rumours about him ran unabated. He was too new to the Light Side to be seen in the same light as Harry Potter and the rest of the Gryffindors. He looked too much like Lucius, his mannerisms too reminiscent of the Pure Blood culture, his reputation too shaky to be fully trusted by the Wizarding World. For Draco, with his shaky pride and new- found humility, it was too much. He would never be able to live his name down no matter what he did. He would never be nothing more than Draco Malfoy. He would never be enough.

Two months after the death of Voldemort, he left the Wizarding World for the first time and for good. He took some of his inheritance money, just enough to sustain him for a few months outside of his old life, and headed for Muggle London, where he had lived without his reputation and his history for the last two years.

Now he was forced to confront his past and his decisions. Chip's words echoed niggling doubts in Draco's mind. While he had been content with his Muggle life, and proud of learning to survive in the world that was unfamiliar to him as life on Mars, he knew Chip's words were true: he was not living up to his full potential and he could do so much more with his life than serving Mrs. Whipstaff her beet pot pie and chips every Thursday. Chip's words triggered the resurgence of Draco's innate ambitiousness and quest for excellence. And now that it was finally out in the open again, Draco would not be able to supress and deny it.

But with that came fear. He was afraid that his ambition would take over him again and lead him to path that Lucius had taken. He was afraid that if he gave in to his true nature, everything that people said about him being just as vile as all the Malfoys were would come true. He was afraid that deep down inside, he was nothing more than a Lucius Malfoy clone.

He scribbled in his notebook the main question he had to concern himself with for next few months: How can I be true to my nature without giving up my humanity?

Draco stood outside of himself for a moment and smiled at the words he had written down. A part of him felt good about being able to articulate his thoughts. To hit the nail right smack on its head. My dilemma in a nutshell. Granger, whereever you are, thank you for being such a compulsive nerd and teaching me the value of making lists.