Therapy
The sun woke Draco up, much to his disdain. Today, he had several ventures and meetings, not to mention he still had not fully decided whether or not he wanted to attend tonight's gala the Ministry was putting on.
What were a bunch of vain speeches going to do to show reconciliation? People still had their own thoughts about Draco and the rest of his former Slytherin friends, so what good would it do? It did not reverse anything, and it sure as hell would not change noblemen like Harry Potter and his gang of weasels' minds. He would always be the boy who let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. The boy who cursed Katie Bell in the Three Broomsticks. The boy who almost got Ron killed with poisoned mead meant for Dumbledore. And if they still had not forgiven him after five years, the rest of the Gryffindorks who ran the Ministry wouldn't either.
He knew as much because, instead of nearly snarling at him like they did in their school days, when any of his former classmates, besides the few he considered close enough to be family, saw him in public, they did absolutely everything to avoid him, or gave him a twisted glare as they passed.
It would have made him happier if Granger were more inclined to curse at him and punch him in the face like she had in their third year. Now she just huffed and picked up her speed when she saw at all in the Ministry. He knew she did not work there - don't ask how - so he assumed she might be bringing her numpty of a boyfriend, Weaselbee, lunch. Or at least the last Draco had heard - from Daphne Greengrass, who ran the gossip column of the Daily Prophet - they were still an item. Not that he cared.
Somehow, just somehow, he'd ended up with the life Draco had always been promised. A high up Auror at the Ministry, working his way up the ladder. Among other things, but that's not the point. The point was, Draco would rather be trapped inside a Gringotts vault with Seamus Finnegan for seven days with limited food and water than spend two minutes in a fully stocked pub with Ron Weasley. He was the worst of them at making Draco feel worse than Voldemort himself.
Whenever Draco occasionally saw Ron in passing at the Ministry, Weaselbee made it his life's mission to ruin Draco's day. He would look around as if Draco was a security threat and say some nonsense fake code into his walkie-talkie, a piece of technology from the Muggle world that none other than Arthur Weasley had suggested the Aurors start using to communicate with each other. Draco shriveled at the thought. Ron would make such a big deal about Draco being even allowed to step foot into the Ministry without shackles around his feet. At least that ruled him out for Draco's guess of who testified for him anonymously. Not that he would have guessed that red headed rat anyway.
One instance had Draco yelling to the former Gryffindor across the hall.
"Hey Weasley, I'm allowed to be here just as much as you. Remember that next time you try and make me look like a rapist or something!" he'd said that day, going home pretty proud of himself.
Ron had just ignored him completely, but Draco knew he'd heard him well enough.
Harry, surprisingly, didn't feign so much of a disturbance as Ron when he was forced into proximity with Draco. He occasionally shot a sort of wary glare, but never made such a scene as is counterpart.
It was truly sobering that people had so much fear associated with him. He could understand why, but to actually see it in action was crippling to all the work he'd done on himself and his values. Draco, shortly after his parents were banished to Azkaban for the rest of their lives, had to completely reinvent himself to stay afloat. He stayed at home for the first year, terrified to step outside for more than a few minutes. He and Theo and Blaise camped out in his room countless days and nights, playing on a Muggle Playstation that Draco's dad had confiscated from him years prior.
They never really talked too much about what had happened. Theo had felt slightly upset for a while that Draco and Blaise hadn't opened up to him about being Death Eaters, but that wasn't how they were raised. They didn't open up about anything. They were taught not to show too much emotion or weakness, as Lucius would say.
He watched the Daily Prophet closely, seeing that his fellow classmates had gone back to Hogwarts to finish their final year, or more like repeat it. Draco chose to stay home, terrified because he knew the welcome waiting for him would not be a warm one. He still graduated, thankfully. Professor McGonagall, who assumed the Headmistress position after the war, had allowed him to take his N.E.W.T.s in private and get his certificate, which he appreciated.
The second year after the war, he finally got himself together enough to get his affairs in order. He visited his father in Azkaban, who was kept in a separate cell than his mother. Oh, how he missed his mother. One day, he planned to advocate for her parol. For now, he would continue on the family affairs and keep the manor running until she could get out. As for his father, he would let him rot for as long as the Ministry would have it. His father gave him every password to every safe in the manor, which allowed him to take full control of the Malfoy businesses, which included hundreds of property investments, business investments - one including the Leaky Cauldron, which he found surprising - and several other investments. He decided to create something that was purely Malfoy, just in case all those investments they relied upon for so long fell through. So, he created Malfoy Brewing Co., a liquor company that was purely his to run. It gave him a purpose, though he still held onto that dream of being Head Auror at the Ministry of Magic. One day, he promised himself, he'd get to that.
Three years post-war, he'd finally felt like he had a purpose again, and he felt lighter. However, all that he'd done two years prior still stuck with him. He was still deeply traumatized from it all. That's when he and Pansy had gotten close again. She recommended he start going to therapy.
At first, the idea sounded so ridiculous and weak that he'd actually laughed in her face when she'd suggested it. But after months of trying to convince him, Pansy finally succeeded when Draco promised to go if she left him alone about it. After his first visit, he'd excused himself to the loo and cried, actually cried yes, for minutes.
It was the first time he'd actually had to face everything he went through. And while it was slightly humiliating, Draco grew to trust his therapist, Dr. Horitz, and kept returning week after week.
So now, as Draco stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom, the sun shining brighter and brighter as it rose over the horizon, he did not feel so heavy about what he knew he had to do today, which was to go to the Ministry's gala, play their little game, and finally show his face in front of a bunch of people who'd happily see him locked up in Azkaban for the rest of his life.
"Alright, mate. Up and at 'em."
Blaise soft but stern tone ripped through the veil of silence, causing Draco to groan in response.
Blaise, unofficially, was Draco's advisor and business partner. He attended most of the important meetings and helped Draco pick out flavors and designs for bottles. Though Draco would never tell him personally, he thought Blaise had excellent ideas when it came to the company, which is why he wanted him at every meeting and tasting.
"Do you have to be at my house an hour early to wake me up? Or is that just a personal preference?" Blaise rolled his eyes at Draco's dramatic response.
"For one, you must have been laying here a while because I'm only thirty minutes early, and yes, I like to be punctual because someone," Blaise pointed to Draco, "is not." Draco jumped out of bed at that and headed for his on suit lavatory. He quickly showered and dried his hair with a quick drying spell, and combed it back, making sure to leave a few pieces hanging down in the front. He threw on a simple black shirt that buttoned all the way down the front, but left the first two buttons undone. He paired it with khaki trousers and black leather shoes, rolling the sleeves up on his buttoned shirt.
"Very spiffy, now let's go." Blaise was growing impatient, but Draco sprayed cologne at sloth speed just to piss him off.
"Now we can go," Draco smirked.
Pansy stalked into Draco's room hours later, her glittering dress flowing behind her and her hair neatly tucked into a silver hairpin.
Draco straightened his black tie in the mirror. He'd changed out of his far too casual clothes just before Theo had arrived. Blaise had gone home hours ago to get ready and to pick up his date, whose identity was to be a complete surprise to the rest of his friends. Draco had asked him about ten times, but Blaise still would not give it up.
Theo sat on the sofa at the end of the bed, his eyes glazing over every inch of Pansy.
"Theo I hope that plum purple tie is not meant to match my dress," Pansy grimaced. Theo rolled his eyes.
"You wish," he said, but he snuck a quick glance at his friend who was now smoothing his hair back with a comb, winking back from the mirror. Theo looked at the ceiling.
"Are these chandeliers new?"
Pansy just groaned. "Where's Blaise and Daphne? I thought they got invited too."
Draco bobbed his shoulders. "Picking up his date, who he still has not cared to disclose the identity of, which is really pissing me off."
Pansy, who hated being late to anything, groaned again. "Well, can he hurry? We're going to be late!"
Theo kicked his feet up and rested his hands behind his head. "You should really chill out, Parkinson. Party's still gonna be there whether we're there or not." She kicked the sofa, which caused Theo's hands to come apart and lead to him banging his head on the arm of it.
He just readjusted as if nothing had happened. Just as he did, Daphne sauntered into the room, her pink dress making her look like a chewed up wad of candy floss, or at least that's what Draco thought.
"Wow, what a conversation starter," Theo said. Daphne looked like she might punch him in the face. Which was only worsened when Draco said, "Definitely a statement piece."
It had ruffled going around the entire bottom of the dress, with the bodice adorned in lace. Not to mention, the entire thing was bright medicine pink. But it was so obviously Daphne that the other three couldn't even deny it, it fit her well.
"Shut your face, Draco. You've worn that same damn suit since year five, so you don't get to say anything about my dress. At least Theo branched out with his purple tie!"
"Don't mention the tie again or I'm not wearing it."
Pansy glared at him, but complained yet again.
"Can we go? I'm sick of waiting on Blaise."
Just as the words came out her mouth, Blaise appeared by the door with none other than Luna Lovegood on his arm. Draco's mouth fell open so wide it could've hit the floor.
"This is your date?" Pansy asked, her eyes wider than saucers. Theo basically fell off of the sofa craning his neck to see and Daphne took a minute to pick up her gown and turn the opposite direction to see who it was.
"You have a lovely home, Malfoy." Luna seemed to be either completely oblivious to their obvious surprise or choosing to ignore it. Either way, it was awkward.
"Th... Thanks.. Lovegood," he rasped.
Blaise checked his watch. "Bout that time, eh?"
The rest of them followed suit and chose to pretend Luna Lovegood being Blaise's date wasn't the strangest thing to happen to them in years.
"Let's hope this goes well," Pansy mumbled to Draco as the pair descended the stairs.
Luna swirled around from where she stood at the bottom of the grand staircase beside Blaise.
"Why wouldn't it?"
Draco and Pansy shared a knowing glance.
"No reason," Pansy chose to answer.