Draco Malfoy did not know why he was here; it had been eight years since the final battle, eight years since he had seen him in person. Of course, books, merchandise named after him, even the occasional poster had cropped up in the wizarding communities he sometimes visited. After eight years, though, he hadnt spoken to him. It wasn't strange, really, he had rarely spoken to him other than to hiss rude words, to aggravate him. What was strange was the fact that he had come to the place where his once-rival had lived.
Draco looked up at the house. Part of the second story was collapsed, and had been for twenty-four years. Draco could almost imagine the family: mother, father, and son, happily living here. His parents, though not directly, helped cause the severing of that family. Why he had ever recited what his father used to say....
Draco pushed those thoughts away. No, he had changed his views, his whole family had. After all those years of struggle, his family had realized that their leader did not, and could not, posses the thing that had pulled Draco's own family together in the end. He let the first seventeen years of his life surround him. Over two thirds of his life had been spent on foolish beliefs.
That did not matter now. The side that had won-the good side- was forgiving, and he was allowed to live as a free man. Free, like so many other races had become after the war had finished. He believed in the winning side. Everyone had stood together to pick up the pieces and move on afterwards; everyone was so willing to help others. He had hardly known so much love.
After nine months of helping the wizarding world, of stand next to half-bloods and pure-bloods and mudbloods, he had realized that blood didnt matter. What mattered was that you had enough to keep your heart going, to keep your heart beating and loving.
He had left after that, left his parents and everything he had known. He had traveled in solitude for months, walking through the Alps, across Europe, until he had known he had been isolated enough. He went home, after he realized the errs of his prejudices, after knowing that he was truly a man. He had gone home to face the world.
For the seven years after that, he had left his parents' estate and moved to London. He had gotten a job at the ministry, working at the Daily Prophet. People were surprised to see his name under front page articles, he knew. Something in him had known that he was fit for the job. After being blinded by pureblood beliefs for so long, he had wanted to know the truths of everything, wanted everyone to know them as well.
It had taken him a while to get used to living surrounded by muggles. After overcoming the culture shock, he had settled in quite nicely. By that time, his mother had said, he should be looking for someone to settle down with. He had insisted that twenty was too young, but that he would accept it when the day came.
The truth of it was that Draco was afraid of love. He had seen it destroy the very man who he had been brainwashed into believing was absolute. He was also afraid of hurting anyone with it. Yes, he shared a bond with his mother and father, but love was a powerful magic that he still did not quite understand.
So the days, months, years had passed by, always Draco furiously writing truths for the world to see. Those same days, months, years passed by without finding a single person he wished to share his time with. His mother had suggested the Parkinson girl. Hadn't he fancied her when he was a schoolboy, she asked. Yes, he had answered, back when they shared the same foolish beliefs. His mother had nothing to say of that.
So Draco found himself standing in front of Harry Potter's first home, wondering how one was capable of loving so much that they could leave a bond that lasted for eighteen years, a bond that was certainly still lasting.
As golden leaves rustled by with the wind, so too did Draco turn and walk. He walked towards the main street of the town, where a church, post office, a pub, and other small businesses stood. He walked by the church, glimpsing the many tombstones that lay behind it. He did not go through the kissing gate, knowing that the deceased there had not known him, and were not his to grieve. Nodding slightly, so as to acknowledge the late ones who were buried beneath markers, he continued up the small street.
Right now, he felt the need for some sort of drink, anything that might impair his mind, however slightly. Reminiscing about his past when he was in fact visiting the past of another seemed strange to him. Back when he was a teenager, when he had wasted that part of his life, he thought grudgingly, he had rarely dwelt on past memories.
Slipping into the bar, the warmth was welcoming compared to the chilly fall wind. Walking to the bar, he sat down at the bar, opposite of its only other customer. The man was drinking a beer and watching a mindless muggle sport. Though he had accepted other muggle customs, he never could get used to their strange ideas of sports.
The bar maid came over. "What'll it be?" she asked.
Without looking up, Draco said, "Whatever's on tap." Though he didnt particularly care for muggle alcohol (it didnt have quite the kick that fire whiskey did) he had found his way to many bars when he had needed to think. The barmaid came back, and Draco passed her some money as she slid him his beer.
Draco stared into the mug for a while before taking a sip. He remembered his mother's words the last time they had seen each other. Honestly Draco, so many of your classmates have settled down, some are even starting families! When you come around for Christmas holiday, your father and I would love it if you came with a lady friend. We certainly arent getting any younger, your father and I, and we'd love to see grandchildren before we go. He snorted into his drink when he recalled this. He certainly didn't feel the need for a 'lady friend' as his mother had put it.
He sat there thinking for a time before finally draining the mug of what little contents were left, and stood to go. As he got up, he looked at the barmaid for the first time. She was average height, probably five seven, about six inches shorter than Draco. She had long blonde hair pulled back in a pony tail and light brown eyes. He noticed that she was wearing an old Weird Sisters shirt.
"Have a killer night," she called.
Rest in results!
As he glanced back a last time before walking out into the chilly November evening, the girl's sharp yet attractive features stood out in his mind. Maybe he would go visit the graves of the deceased wizards in this town another day, he thought. Perhaps he could stop by the bar again and get her name. In his school days he had been quite the charming bastard; he doubted very much that the charm could have faded away.
Yes, he thought. Maybe he would bring a lady friend to his parents' estate for Christmas.
*****
That is Chapter One. I don't know when I'll update again, I apologize. Please give me some feedback on this story, as I personally like it, but I'd like to know what other people think. Merci beaucoup!
