Chapter Text
Draco was satisfied.
Not exactly happy, but as close as one could get in his position.
After lazily studying abroad and rediscovering himself throughout a tour filled with contraband potions and lost days, he’d finally decided it was time to return home. Yes, the amenity in each country he visited was most intoxicating and freeing, but the time to face wizarding London was past its time.
His time away had given him the space to live the bachelor lifestyle he desired. He basked under the Spanish sun, tasted espresso off the tongue of a local French woman, and sat in meadows and gazed at majestic mountains in Switzerland. He saw beaches, drank an obscene amount of wine and studied when it suited him.
It was wonderful.
The opportunities to take a new witch home every evening were endless, and by gods he made sure said opportunities weren’t put to waste. It was easy falling into bed with a blond, brunette or redhead, sometimes a mix of all three, and not worry about learning their names, birthplaces or relatives. He hated small talk and unnecessary attachments.
He hated most attachments.
They were messy and required things like depth that he had no interest in. It may have contributed to an aversion to looking within; and that was a box he’d much rather ignore. It was a tangled mess of mistakes and regrets. Things best kept out of the light.
Affairs such as dating and marriage were for sods who feared never feeling the warmth of a woman again without commitment. Draco had learned how to find the perfect type of witch that wanted about as much out of him as he did them. These witches were everywhere, but most wizards struggled with the charm and good looks that came with being a Malfoy.
His courses were relatively easy. It helped that he saw potions akin to Arithmancy. If he added that component, this would happen. All he really had to do was memorize ingredient families and subclasses. Add in a dash of Astronomy, and he was set for a mastery.
He returned to London in search of work. Not that he needed it, but the Ministry of Magic had summoned him home and his options were job or marriage. Since marriage was akin to a stint in Azkaban, he chose employment.
While he does enjoy a nice, slothful evening, it was not his preferred way to spend time. Idle hands and all that nonsense. After being rejected for half of the positions applied for, and not picked for the other half, he received a letter.
The Hogwarts crest on the back of the envelope looked exactly as it did the day he turned eleven. The creamy parchment was smooth in his hands. Idly he wondered how many wizards received letters from Hogwarts more than once in their lives.
Confused and intrigued, he grabbed a letter opener from his desk and sliced through the thick parchment.
Dear Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy,
It has come to my attention that you are seeking a position in the workforce. Here at Hogwarts, we have a position available to you. With your mastery in the air, it would only make sense to offer you the role of flying instructor here at Hogwarts.
I understand that this is a far cry from what you’ve been applying for, but I am also in great need.
Our current Professor Hodfellow had an unexpected encounter with a rare Peruvian Vipertooth while on holiday. Since this particular breed is the one responsible for deadly bouts of Dragon Pox, our Professor has entered into a quarantine for an undetermined amount of time.
This has left an opening for an aspiring young person such as yourself.
Please return a reply as soon as possible.
Regards,
Minerva McGonagall
Headmistress at Hogwarts
He read the letter twice before realizing that this was an opportunity.
Not just any opportunity, a grand one.
He wouldn’t have to subject himself to the scrutiny that many potential employers had done.
But children.
Sure, there had been fleeting moments where he’d picture a shock blond mini version of himself and the place behind his ribs would begin to ache. But then he’d remember all they had to offer.
Ghastly things with forever sticky fingers and an endless supply of boogies. Even in his own youth, Draco had always presented himself cleaner than his fellow classmates. With his hair ever slicked, face washed daily and robes perfectly pressed, there was no denying that the young master Malfoy was immaculate since childhood. For cleanliness is next to godliness, and what are Malfoy’s if they are not gods of the wizarding world?
His family has always been wealthy, both in good looks and in galleons, and had never encountered anything as trivial as need .
That is, until today.
After the war, the Malfoy family did their penance for the part they all played in the Wizarding War. Lucius to Azkaban, Narcissa to house arrest and probation, Draco to leave the country in hopes of never returning.
Unfortunately, the familial reputation was in utter shambles. Not loyal enough for those that devoted their lives to the Dark Lord, and too cowardly for those who followed Potter. It was quite a terrible place to be. Because of this, they all became somewhat pariahs. A family to put in a box and to be stored in an attic with the intention of quietly fading away.
Forgotten, needless, rejected.
Polished, wealthy, untouchable.
It’s all in how oneself is presented, really.
Draco needed a job. Not for any monetary gain, but for the family reputation and to keep the single lifestyle he preferred. Since his mother was stuck at the Manor, it fell to his shoulders to get back out into society and do some repairs. He needed to make a presence in wizarding London and what better way to do it than to rub elbows with the more common men? Roll up his house-elf pressed shirts and get to work. It would be the perfect way to establish his place back in the world. And after all of his travels, he was invigorated and ready to take on this heavy mantle.
If only the snobbery of every bloody employer didn’t get in his way. They all must be jealous, he decided. It was only fair; he couldn’t blame those that had to work for a living being envious of his position. Why if roles were reversed, he would absolutely have felt the same.
The edges of the letter crinkled with the slight tightening in his hands. Why is it that the only available job is somewhere crawling with mangy children? He had a perfectly put together look and he just knew they would ruin it. Gods, he could remember quite well the deep bags under Trelawny’s eyes, the wrinkles on Flitwick’s face, and the complete lack of charm of McGonagall. He simply couldn’t do it.
Decided, he started toward the sunroom to meet his mother for tea. The heels of his dragonhide boots clacked on the smooth marble flooring as he walked. The unoccupied halls echoed his steps back to him.
Click, click, click.
It was so quiet in the Manor. Granted, it had always been that way, but he never realized how void of sound his childhood home was. It was almost suffocating.
The doors to the sunroom were open; a gentle breeze catching the lace curtains. They swayed in greeting as he entered. His mother was gazing up at the stained glass ceiling, a floral tea cup in her delicate grasp.
“Mother.” He greeted as he pecked her cheek.
Narcissa smiled. “I’ve received a letter that I think may interest you.”
She reached over, grabbed the teapot and poured a cup before placing it in front of him.
“That’s funny because I’ve also received a letter.” He grabbed a sugar cube and dropped it into the steaming cup.
His mother raised her eyebrows and hummed in interest. “Maybe we have letters penned by the same author.”
He scoffed, “I highly doubt it. Who was your letter from?”
“Cyrus Greengrass.”
Who knew that a leafy name like Cyrus Greengrass could make his bachelor life suddenly wither? There was only one thing that the Greengrass family was looking for and it definitely wasn’t Draco’s winning personality. A shame, really. He had traits that most men would live and die without ever knowing. Merlin, that’s a depressing mood.
He could see the letter now without ever reading it. He saw it in the guarded, hopeful look in his mother’s eyes; the extra cautious way she set down her cup. Not to mention the timing. It was as if the clock had struck midnight.
He’d been back at the Manor for exactly a week now and low and behold, a letter from a family with two eligible daughters. His thirtieth birthday was a few months away, and here he was in his prime and perfectly single. Most wizards saw his return as a chance to strike a deal.
They knew that now with his travels and most of the randiness out of the way, his next step would be to settle down. But the bachelor life complimented Draco. His love for the suave icon he’d become, antagonism for settling down and general distaste for children all led to not being married.
No, he’d committed himself to never being tied to an old ball and chain and had taken meticulous steps to affirm that lifestyle.
Painful and disgusting, but thorough steps.
Very thorough.
Even if one of the Greengrass girls were to slip him a love potion and lock their legs around his arse as he drove deep into them, he had made sure there would be nothing there to tie them together.
When he was in Amsterdam, he met a muggle at a pub. He didn’t know she was a muggle until her clothes were half off and his cock was out. It was at this point that she stopped him and demanded he wear a condom. Thinking this was some sort of kink of the area, he asked what that was and told her he’d never used one before.
At this point she had turned around, fixed her shirt, called him a pig and left him standing there, aching and frustrated.
Feeling like a fool, he started a search for this condom kink. He found out fairly quickly it was the muggle equivalent to contraceptive potion. Only it wasn’t a potion and instead something used quite heavily on bananas. Fascinated, he continued his education on muggle sex. He discovered a plethora of ways they protect themselves from accidental pregnancies.
Muggles were surprisingly creative.
When he had come across something called a vasectomy and a sperm bank, he couldn’t believe his luck. This was a method that was untapped by the wizarding community therefore couldn’t be sabotaged by an ambitious witch. No one would know what he’d done, and he’d be free to wet his willy as frequently as he wanted.
It was the perfect plan.
Quite the clever man, he is.
The reality was, the Greengrass family were only the beginning. More letters will arrive and with each one, the pressure to act on them will begin to weigh. This is the time where all the socialite mothers will owl his mother in an attempt to set him up with their daughters. It didn’t matter that his family had become pariahs, the money still flowed and those mothers were always happy to turn a blind eye to status. He needed an out and he needed it quickly because he’ll be damned if this was his end. Draco never did anything he didn’t want to do.
He needed to find a way to discourage these letters.
“ -and Daphne has done quite well with her paintings. Not as skilled as Astoria when it comes to dancing, but still very talented.” His mother’s voice pulled him from his thoughts of fancy-free life and the soon end. Well it will be the end if he doesn’t find himself a way to side step this conversation.
He picked up his tea, blew gently on the steam rising from his cup, and took a small sip. The back tea held the perfect robust kick. His spine straightened as he made eye contact with his mother. His mouth opened to stop whatever speech Narcissa had prepared when she sighed and spoke before him.
“I know what you are thinking, Draco. But don’t you see it is past time to finally be serious and settle down? I’m concerned for your future happiness. When your father was your age, we had a three, almost four year old.”
“I’m not my father.” He muttered as he crossed his arms. Fantastic, he was reduced to pouting.
Narcissa continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “I’m not saying you should pick any young lady, but at least give them a chance. You might be surprised at how much you all have in common.”
“Please mother, not this again. I have no intention of meeting these witches who are only interested in becoming the next Lady Malfoy. I’m quite content alone, thank you.”
“Someday your past actions are going to keep you from moving forward, my son. You have to talk about-”
Draco stood abruptly and smoothed down the front of his shirt. “I must be going. Thank you for the tea.”
Anger simmered as he walked back down the hall and into the study. He paced in hopes of out walking the memories that suddenly rose, but it wasn’t enough. He paused only for a moment when he grabbed a handful of floo powder and stepped into the fireplace.
His voice was sharp as he spoke into the green flames, “Ministry of Magic.”
“Come on Nott, is there truly nothing you can have me do?”
“I’ve already told you. My area of expertise is invention, yours is potions. The two don’t really cross over.” Theo grabbed his wand and waved it over the time turner that sat on the table. It glowed for a moment then disappeared. Theo ran a hand through his hair before sighing. “That’s not good. Why is it so important to get a job anyway? Just marry someone and ignore her. That’s what my father did until mum died. It worked wonderfully for him.”
“Because, I…” Draco’s patience was running thin. He shook his head and huffed in frustration. “It doesn’t matter. The point is I would rather work. Just not… at Hogwarts.”
“Gods, I can’t imagine going back there. All those memories of Potter and his crew strutting about the halls. Now Potter just struts around the Ministry.”
“All alone? I can’t imagine him being alone. It’s always been the Trio. Like they were bloody fused.”
“No, Weasel is with him. He’s gotten quite fit in the Auror programme.”
“Gods no, Theo.” Draco shuddered. “What about Granger?”
The words left him before he had a chance to realise. Stupid man. Theo turned to Draco, a sly smile growing.
“Never mind, I don’t give a shit.” He stood and turned towards the door.
“She disappeared.”
His steps faltered. “What?”
Curiosity burned through him. How could a girl, well woman now he supposed, with that hair and that mouth disappear? Smarty pants Granger seemed to suck the air from any room she stood in. She was always so loud and detectable from Quidditch fields away. It drove Draco completely batty and he hated every moment of it. She was immodest when it came to the wizarding world with no regard to the proper way of things. Always going on about an injustice of one kind or another. How is it that this uneducated, though passably smart, witch saw things that he had spent his whole life staring at and not seeing? It always made Draco feel hot with a feeling he didn’t understand.
“She seemed to have just vanished.” Theo said, watching Draco closely. “One day she was on the cover of the Prophet and the next, she was gone. Had quit her job and moved out of London. No one has seen her for a few years.”
“Oh.” Was all Draco could reply. The information left him off kilter.
Theo cleared his throat and changed the subject. “I’ll see what I can find job wise, but no promises. Now where did that time turner go?”
He started shuffling around his workspace, clearly dismissing his friend. Draco grabbed his cloak from the hook on the wall and saw himself out with a tight nod.
Right.
Well he’s sure to figure something out. He was, after all, a Slytherin. And a damn brilliant one too.
The walk back to the floo was irritatingly slow. Stuck behind gossiping ministry workers, a flock of paper airplanes and a cleaning caddy that’s spell seemed to have stopped working on one of the wheels.
By the time he made it to the floo, he was distracted enough that he didn’t see the woman stepping out. They collided with an oomph, and he reached out to steady her before she fell.
“My apologies,” He said as he dusted soot from his shoulder. “I didn’t-” His voice died in his throat as his eyes landed on none other than Astoria Greengrass.
She beamed up at him with large eyes, “Why hello Draco. Isn’t this a pleasant surprise?”
Her dark hair was perfectly smooth; her lips a touch pink. She wore glass blue robes that clung to her petite frame. And goodness, she was beautiful. By the way she looked at him, she knew it too.
“Astoria, how is your family doing?” He had to think quickly. Blast him for not paying attention. This is possibly the one person he’d hope to never run into, and here he is, doing just that. What rotten luck.
She bit her lower lip thoughtfully, and it drew his gaze to her mouth. She was a very attractive woman, even if her eyes are that of a predator. Given that both of them had grown up in the same circles, with the same friends, same education and same expectations, he knew that her mind was spinning a web just as quickly as he was seeking out an exit.
“They are well, thank you.” She slipped her arm through the crook of his elbow; one he didn’t even remember having, and steered him away from the floo. “Do I get the pleasure of seeing you again soon? Your mother has invited me to tea next week. I do hope you will be there to join us.”
Where in the hells was she leading him?
He needed to slip away and fast. The invisible snare he’d stepped in was already winding tighter. Think damn it. His mind shouted.
They took a corner and Draco found himself staring at a small cafe. Astoria gently guided him over to a small bistro set before waving over a floating menu. Her small, but surprisingly firm hands all but pushed him into one of the iron chairs before settling onto her own.
“The scones are delicious.” She crossed her legs at the knees and the clip of her garter winked in the light. He looked at it; eyes followed the line up her smooth thigh.
No, he needed to stop. It would only encourage her.
He shook his head in an attempt to physically dislodge his eyes. This woman knew what she was doing. He knew it, she knew it, the damn floating menu knew it.
He cleared his throat and stood. “I really cannot stay, Astoria. I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
“Oh dear,” She leaned forward, elbows on the table and ever so subtly pushed out her chest. “That’s a shame. I was really hoping we could reconnect while I have some time.”
“Apologies. It’ll have to be another time.” It was a hollow promise, but it was enough to do.
She nodded, a playful smile gracing her lips. “I’ll hold you to it Draco.”
He turned on his heel and tried not to run back to the floo. It had been a while since he’d been in London and he’d forgotten how crafty the witches of upper society were. If he was to ever achieve his goals, he’ll have to sharpen up.
It shouldn’t be too difficult; after all he was born into this world to rule it.