Prolog

Malfoy Holdings: France

It had been almost eight years since the end of the war.

Eight years since saintly Potter and the rest of the holy trio had testified at the trials and sent most of the inner circle of the Death Eaters to Azkaban.

It had been a coin toss on which way they would stand on the students who had joined the dark lords ranks.

Soft hearted, Granger had stood on the side of understanding, rehabilitation and forgiveness.

The Weasel had predictably been the most vocal about throwing anyone with any ties or suspicion of support into Azkaban. After the Weasley family had gone through, Draco couldn't really blame him, but wars were not fought in black and white.

Like always it had all come down to Potter.

It always had to be him didn't it?

And Potter had stunned the Wizarding world by siding with Granger.

Oh Draco would have loved to be a fly in the wall when the Weasel had learned Potter was going to testify on behalf of him, his mother, and most of the 7th year Slytherins.

Despite the testimony of two thirds of the triumphant trio, in the end their fate had predictably come down to money. The Wizarding world was trying to rebuild and move on after all, and several large donations to the ministry and to the families of the survivors (anonymously of course, except to the eyes that really mattered) had helped swing the vote of the Wizengamot. Along with Potter and Granger's testimony, they got the support they needed.

He had been sentenced to four years in Azkaban, and fined most of his family's fortune. Most of what the Wizengamot knew about anyhow. With the world in turmoil they hadn't had the resources or time to trace down the bulk of their money hidden away as it was.

Lucius had been many things but he wasn't stupid, especially when it came to money and only a fool would have his money all in one place. The man practically had King Midas' touch in business and even Draco had been surprised at the amount of money his family truly had when he had taken over.

The verdict was more favourable for his mother. She had been kept under house arrest until the trial's conclusion in their summer chateau in the south of France and had not been sentenced to any time in Azkaban. The manor house was an active crime scene until further notice but Draco was sure his mother didn't want to be there even if she had been able to return.

After Potter's testimony, Lucius had testified that Narcissa had been kept at the manor against her will and been imperioed into subservience. No one believed him of course but Potter had been adamant that they had only won the war because of Narcissa's lie to the Dark Lord. Draco was fairly sure that Potter had gone out of his way for Narcissa to stay out of Azkaban.

Lucius had not been so fortunate. Even with his connections and wealth he hadn't been able to escape the life sentence to Azkaban. Although, with the dementors gone, the prison reform bills and humanitarian efforts made, the prison was much more livable. Draco supposed that's what happens when a large number of the upper crust of society gets tossed into prison.

The four years Draco had spent there hadn't been pleasant but he had been able to survive. A lot of his classmates had been there and they generally kept to themselves and out of the way of the rest of the inmates. Just like at Hogwarts they took care of their own.

Once he was out of Azkaban and finished with his mandatory rehabilitation classes life had turned almost back to normal. The Wizarding world was slow to forget but just because the elite of society were in the inner circle didn't mean that the Dark Lords supporters stopped with them.

The Dark Lord's reach had been widespread, the seeds of his ideology taking root in far too many ears. Hardly any Wizarding family could claim they hadn't had an aunt, uncle, cousin or grandparent who sympathised if not downright supported the Dark Lords ideas. The only reason there hadn't been more of an inquisition into the supporters, was that to turn over every rock you'd have to be willing to sacrifice family, and hardly anyone had the stomach to go the Barty Crouch route.

Society had been willing to make an example of the inner circle and leave the rest. Even now, more often than Draco would like, he had had to sit through meetings for his family's various holdings and businesses where there were far too many familiar faces or sympathetic eyes which had never known the walls of Azkaban.

Despite this Draco found he was rather enjoying the business side of being a Malfoy. His father had taught him well, he had a shrewd eye for profit and he liked making money even more than he liked spending it. It also kept him busy, and keeping busy kept his mind off the war.

As unsavoury as some of the sacred 28 had been, most of them had been like extended family to Draco. The Death Eaters who had escaped Azkaban the first time had become more like an exclusive club rather than a mob of bloodthirsty extremists while Draco was growing up.

Draco grew up on monthly dinners with the Nott's and McNair's , shopping trips with the Parkinson's and of course the parties, dances and galas of the Greengrass's. The elite families had all spent holidays and birthdays together, their sons and daughters were like cousins to him.

From infancy to Hogwarts they had been united by blood, status and connections. They stood together at the brink of a bright new world that they had been promised all their lives only to be horrifically and violently thrown into the horrors of war and punished for the sins of their parents.

The war hadn't just torn families apart on Dumbledore's side, everyone lost someone.

Grief and loss hold no allegiances.

But that was the past, and Draco tried not to allow the darkness there to edge in, not right now at least. Today had brought him some excellent news and Draco was in an unusually good mood. A passion project of sorts was slowly becoming a reality; a small chain of potion supply stores. He had fully expected his plans to be stopped in their infancy but he now had a location in the process of being retained and all the paperwork had been filed for the importing licences.

Draco had started this whole endeavour with little hope it would ever go anywhere. When he realised it had the potential to actually work, if he was smart and very very careful, he had gotten to work in earnest.

He had spent weeks burying every trace of himself and his business partners behind iron clad aliases, shells and various overseas holdings before he had dared to move forward with anything more. While he could oversee the Malfoy Family interests without outward trouble the Ministry of Magic did not allow his kind a long leash.

He apparated on the lawn and began the long walk up the hill, so lost in thoughts he hardly feeling the touch of the wards shrinking back to let him through.

His mind was buzzing with ideas as he tossed his coat absently onto the waiting house elf.

It was still pleasantly spinning through possibilities as he grabbed a few fingers of scotch and settled himself into an armchair in his study, too preoccupied to be bothered with thoughts of dinner. Leaning his head back into the comfortable old leather he let himself enjoy this victory and closed his eyes. He was drifting pleasantly somewhere just above sleep when the screaming started.

A/N: Thank you for reading the first chapter of Zosimos Emporium! I am hoping to be updating this story at least once a week on Saturdays. As always, please feel free to share your thoughts or leave feedback.