Of Rebellion and a Re-Start
"Malfoy," Blaise said coldly. "What are you doing here?"
Draco swallowed. "Zabini," he greeted politely. Then he implored, "Blaise. Please. I know we have had our differences, but I am here as a client."
Blaise softened. "I am sorry," he said. "About some of what happened. I thought you disloyal at best, and weak at worst. Now I understand that you were both right, and scared." He hesitated, and then held out a hand. "I would not like to be under Voldemort's rule, now I have seen the alternative."
Draco took his hand and shook it. "To fresh starts," he said quietly. "Speaking of which… may we?"
Blaise inclined his head and led the way into his study, where the oak panels gave a sense that the young Wizarding Lawmaster was in fact well practised. Indeed, Draco knew that he was the best in private practice currently. Of course, a simple spelling mistake could lead you to Luna Lovegood, the current greatest Wizarding Loremaster - but not what he needed presently.
"So," Blaise said, closing the door. "Discretion and a fresh start. You are not married and you are of age, so you seek neither a divorce, nor emancipation. What do you require?"
Draco sank into the leather chair Blaise indicated and folded his hands in his lap, every inch the pureblood heir.
"To change my name," he answered. "My father remains convinced of Tom Riddle's cause, and refuses to repent. He claims he is ashamed of his failures, and to have let fear diminish his fanaticism. I wish to be no part of his legacy."
"You are his only heir," Blaise said with evident surprise. The pureblood agenda remained ingrained.
"And I care nothing now for blood status. The Malfoy line will end with me. That said, I wish to take the name Black; my mother's maiden name. It is associated more recently with Sirius and Regulus, each of whom rebelled, in their own ways - and it is, at least, already in my blood. I will perhaps enjoy sullying it with a love match with a muggleborn witch."
Blaise inclined his head, a smirk playing around his lips. "Then a Black you shall be," he said. "Legally, it's easy, since it is your mother's maiden name. I pity the fair maiden who will have to take it on, though. Tell me, is Walburga's portrait still screaming?"
A few hours later, Draco returned to his flat in Muggle London, with the papers for his name change tucked under his arm. They were duly signed, and he had a set for his records and a set for Gringotts.
"Is it done?" A voice called from the kitchen.
"It is done," he confirmed as he entered. "He is cut out of my life. We are unsure, without seeing his will, whether I will remain a beneficiary; but I wish to make my own way in the world, anyway."
"Good," Hermione breathed, pressing her forehead to his. "The boys would kill me for marrying a Malfoy."
Draco smiled. "You feel like home," he said, settling his hands on her hips. "We wasted so much time, while I was still acting as he wanted."
"You were a misguided teenager. A bastard, but a misguided bastard," she said mildly. "You've seen the light in the end."