Chapter 1
Draco Malfoy was currently shirtless and sweaty, the muscles in his back rippling from exertion. Sweat dripped into his eyes and he wiped it away quickly with the back of his forearm. His throat constricted as he swallowed, his mouth dry. He took a step back for a moment to admire his work.
His lawn was immaculately well cared for, not a stray weed to be found. Presently, he was building a stone koi pond, the manual labour hard and exhausting. He supposed he could have completed the task rather easily with magic, but during the four years after the war that he had been stripped of his magic, he found there were some tasks he preferred to complete the muggle way.
A day spent toiling in his garden, soaking up the rare bit of sunshine, and creating something beautiful with his bare hands was a day well spent. He found peace and stillness in these “muggle moments,” as he liked to call them.
He checked his watch, surprised to find how quickly the time had gone. He stored his tools in his garden shed and made his way into the small country cottage he had purchased the year before. Another thing he had discovered after the war was that he quite preferred a life outside of pureblooded wizarding society. On occasion he supposed he missed the decadence and debauchery, but most of the time he was satisfied in his simple life.
In the months following the Final Battle he and several other Deatheaters had been put to trial in front of the Wizengamot. Several had been sentenced to life in Azkaban, like his father. His mother had been allowed to pay for her crimes in the sanctuary of Malfoy Manor, a sort of “house arrest,” that was granted to her following Harry Potter’s testimony of Narcissa’s help in the Forbidden Forest. “Without her help,” Harry said, “the War may very well have been lost.” Harry had also testified for Draco, as had Hermione Granger, who had given the Wizengamot a lengthy argument on indoctrination, and the “under-developed prefrontal cortex of adolescents.” Something about how adolescents didn’t develop proper impulse control or executive functioning until early adulthood. Her soliloquy had been longer than his own lawyer’s. The Wizengamot did not appear to notice the gaping flaw in her reasoning, though it was obvious to Draco; she, Potter, and Weasley, as well as several other Hogwarts students had all been the same age as himself when they’d chosen to fight against Voldemort.
Following Potter and Granger’s passionate testimonies, Draco had been afforded a lighter, alternative, sentence to Azkaban as well. He had been sentenced to live in Muggle society, without his magic, for four years.
The first few months had been exceedingly difficult. Cut off from the Wizarding World and with only a small stipend of Muggle money to get him started, he had struggled with the transition. He had no idea of how to find a job or where to stay. He knew nothing of Muggle technology and the culture shock left him reeling. He’d eventually stumbled into a Hostel outside of France and a Muggle girl around his age had taken him under her wing…and into her bed. He’d spent the better part of two years travelling with her, exploring countries both familiar and foreign.
He had never experienced the world without money and he learned an entirely new way of life. Mika had taught him to find joy in the smallest and simplest things; a bird trilling in the early morning outside their camp, a fresh danish offered by a friendly baker, or wildflowers swaying in the breeze. In many ways, Mika helped Draco to heal from the War.
When he woke in the middle of the night screaming and shaking from nightmares about the things he had seen during the War, she would soothe and comfort him, singing foreign lullabies and kissing him softly. Though she did not know it, she also helped him to integrate into Muggle society and see Muggles in a new light. He learned to appreciate their tenacity and innovation; he admired the way in which they mitigated problems without magic.
When Mika became sick with a rare muggle disease, he watched helplessly as she suffered and her health declined. He knew that, had they been in the Wizarding World, the Healers at St. Mungo’s would have been able to cure her. Muggle medicine went only so far, and he prayed she would survive long enough for him to obtain a potion or tonic for her when his parole ended.
To his delight, the Muggle doctors were able to keep her well through some new clinical trial, and when his parole ended, he quickly, and secretly, apparated to St. Mungo’s for assistance. The journey into the Wizarding world was brief and unnoticed, no one aware of his return, even his mother.
After slipping the treatment into Mika’s morning tea for a few weeks, the Doctors were delighted to announce she was cured; praising the clinical trial for its success. Draco was overjoyed to have her well again. He began contemplating a trip to the Manor to see his mother and ask for the family ring, in order to propose to Mika; when his world began to crumble. Mika, emboldened by her recovery, decided that she wanted to pursue all that life had to offer her…including other men. Their break-up was devastating to Draco and he retreated further into Muggle society rather than returning to the Wizarding world.
While Mika had been sick, he began to see a need for advances in Muggle medicine. He felt that a bridge between Muggle medicine and Magical healing could save countless lives. Even after the breakup, he continued to pursue his studies in pre-medicine. The Ministry of Magic’s Muggle Relations Department helped him with the transcripts and documents he needed to enrol at a local University. That had been several years ago now, and he had just earned his Medical Doctorate, as well as a postgraduate degree in Chemistry.
Now, he felt it was time to return to the Wizarding world to obtain a special licence in Healing, and perhaps a Mastery in Potions. In order to do that, however, he needed to return to the world he had left almost ten years ago, starting with his mother’s New Year’s Eve party.