Chapter 1
Draco Malfoy hardly ever thought about his school days anymore or about the boy who lived, the great chosen one of an unwanted prophecy and savior of the magical world but the feeling of being chased caused him a flash of memories of that time in sixth year with Potter following his every step, which was the earliest feeling of persecution event he could remember, though he hadn't noticed it until the very last thing at the time; too focused on finishing his mission. Then there were the events at Malfoy Manor and of course everything that came after the trials.
Draco could assure that he was pretty good at recognizing if he was being stalked, more so if the person in question seemed to be hiding almost nothing at all.
But now he could feel with chilling clarity the presence of someone at his back as he walked back after his night shift at the coffee shop to his small apartment in Newham, Muggle London. He felt a gaze burning at the back of his head, as if they wanted to drill into his skull with their eyes, along with the occasional sound of footsteps behind him.
Draco didn't turn around, not wanting to face his pursuer who would possibly be a thief looking for the few pounds in his leather wallet that had seen better days.
How long had he had that thing with him?
Five or six years, more or less, he thought he recalled. Yet, he didn't want to lose what he earned by putting up with old ladies with too much time to spend bothering him in the cafeteria, saying that he had ordered wrong when it wasn't true, it wasn't his fault that the idiots didn't know that cappuccinos had milk in them, so he picked up the pace until he entered his building.
It was a simple apartment building with beige and white paint that had seen better days.
Draco could finally let out a sigh of relief after the little elevator ride; which he was thankful wasn't broken like a month ago where he had to walk up the damn stairs every day for 3 weeks to the 5th floor; and entered his apartment placing both locks on the door.
Relieved to finally be in his safe space, he took a deep breath and then let out a heavy sigh with all the accumulated fatigue along with the added shock of the attempted robbery.
It was only 10:45 pm so he had 9 hours left before his next shift.
He checked the locks again just in case before heading to the kitchen, if you could call it a kitchen, a gray tiled space no more than 10 square feet with a two-burner gas stove and oven, a microwave and a coffee maker he loved with his whole soul.
He still loved tea as a good young British man, but coffee had kept his sanity on long shifts and mornings when he couldn't or didn't want to wake up at all. According to Larry it also aggravated his anxiety making him, in his words "a nervous bastard".
Not that he minded too much, it was better to be a little nervous than the tired and unproductive alternative that Draco was without his elixir, still if it got worse, he could always go back to the relaxing tea.
Leaving his bag crossed on the counter he turned his full attention to the cauldron of Pepperup he had left in a stasis spell before leaving for work.
-Finite incantatem. -
He had learned to cast several simple wandless spells a couple of years after leaving the magical world and some non-verbal ones as well. Living around non-magical people he had to adapt so as not to break the statute of magical secret.
The former Malfoy heir might no longer live surrounded by magic all the time, but it would always be part of him, part of his own soul. Not using it was not an option for him.
He packaged the potion in several glass vials that he stored, one of which he kept in his bag. That one was for Sheila, his manager.
The poor thing had caught a nasty cold, but she refused to stop working and rest as they had suggested, so Draco decided to take matters into his own hands; he had done it before anyway.
He just had to be alone with Sheila in his office in the morning when the symptoms were at their worst and give her one of his famous miracle teas along with pepperup and no one would notice the puff of smoke coming out of his manager's ears.
A piece of cake
No one had figured it out so far and Draco considered that a thumbs up for his skills.
With that done he called it a day. He took a bath in his tiny shower and then threw on his Mario Bros pajama shirt to his twin bed attached to his window overlooking the street.
It was a gift from Sheila on her first set of secret santa's he had in the cafeteria. His manager was excessively offended when Draco didn't recognize the famous plumbers, this led to a recurring event they would later call: ¨Draco's Pop Culturization Week¨. Where he was forced to consume as much content on video games, series and music as he could before begging his friends to stop when he started dreaming of blocks and blue hedgehogs with Britney Spears music playing in the background.
After that, DPCW was reduced to a couple of days a week until he was judged to be sufficiently educated. The good thing about the event is that it helped him learn more about Muggle culture and to hate more and more the ideas that were instilled in him when he was younger.
He crawled under the covers and drifted off in exhaustion.
Just before he fell completely asleep, he thought he heard the characteristic creaking sound of the apparition.
……………..
-Draco, what are you doing here? - I thought I told you I didn't want to see your arse in the mornings after a full shift. -
-Maria had to take her children to the doctor and asked me for the shift. -
His manager looked at him with disapproval glinting in her blue eyes, though it didn't last long before she sighed in defeat.
-Just this once I'll let it go, but the next time I see a single one of your blonde hairs on a shift that's not your turn, I'll drag you back to your apartment to rest. Got it? -
Draco had already given her the potion as soon as he arrived that morning so the redhead already had the strength to make good on her threats of wanting to do so.
-Yes, ma'am, Lady, ma'am.
Draco couldn't help the smile of amusement on his face and the clear tone of mockery in his voice. This argument had happened about 20 times already, that year only.
Sheila gave him a scowl before leaving so that he could attend to the next customer coming into the cafeteria that morning.
It was a Monday so the place was full of people trying to get their precious dose of caffeine before going to suffer in a low paying job or continue burning their eyelashes for the next exams.
There were those who were pensioned enjoying their golden years or the trophy wives who gathered every morning to gossip after dropping their kids off at schools.
Draco could admit that he was a little envious of the last two. His mother was also a trophy wife, living in opulence, traveling and devoting herself only to raising him to be the next heir when he was young. Then there were the parties she threw every year to raise funds for who knows what organizations. He honestly doesn't quite remember if they were organizations for historical or wildlife protection, not that it matters anymore.
Her mother was now living in France and was in the business of arranging and caring for flowers and magical bouquets. It was a small business, but it was a good living.
He missed her, but knew she was better off there and away from him.
Back to the trophy wives.
The good thing about them was that with a little coquetry in his voice and complimenting the new perm of one of them; Draco felt that it shouldn't be healthy for the hair to get so many of them done; he could get a good amount of tips.
Sometimes he considered creating his own line to treatment for the hair with elements of potions in them, it would be a success for sure, but he didn't want to tempt his parole by brushing up against magical status any more than he already does and there was also the detail of how to explain the elements used in the product. The sanitation department would highly question the use of porcupine quills.
Interrupting his thoughts about shampoos and people with money, Draco felt himself being watched again. Not that look that customers give you when you are desperate for their order, he knew that one too well, but that terrified look that they wished you no good, the same one from the night before.
Does a thief follow him to his job?
No, a simple thief wouldn't do that.
Does he have a stalker?
Draco's heart began its steady pounding inside his chest, sending oxygen rushing to his brain and making him tense up, ready to act in the face of a threat.
With his back straight and his body tense, he faked calmness in front of the customers attending them with the most natural smile he could give while he subtly looked at the tables inside and outside the store hoping to find his stalker, but he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary.
All the customers seemed normal, he noticed no hostility from them, neither the regulars nor the new ones.
Could he be paranoid?
At last Larry was right, maybe his addiction to coffee had caused a mental disorder and schizophrenia would soon knock on his door. Madness runs in the Black´s blood, his aunt was proof of that.
Draco was able to resist shuddering at the memory of that killer. He would thank until the last of his days to Molly Weasley for putting an end to his sadistic aunt. He could never thank the red-headed army mother personally, not for lack of opportunity but for the shame in himself.
Draco had insulted the woman several times in the past to tease Waesley at school after all. What a little brat he was.
Draco sighed; he began to believe that the same paranoia was making him think more about his past life than he had in the past few months.
-Hey, I need help.
The deep voice of an older man, not so old, maybe around 50, brought him out of his thoughts. With dark graying hair, brown eyes and a few inches taller than Draco, he wore a worn dark blue trench coat and the suit he wore underneath looked like it had seen better days.
-Yes, please tell me, what would you like to order? - Draco asked behind the register; still tense, but pretending to be calm; he noticed that this man looked tired and even disgusted.
-I'll order an espresso, but first I need help with the bathroom, it doesn't seem to open, they don't answer when I knock on the door either. -
-Give me a moment. -
He gave her a fake smile as he turned around. This gentleman made her hair stand on end.
It was not unusual for the toilet to be locked, it had happened before that very tired students had fallen asleep in the bathroom after collapsing from exhaustion and a couple of times a couple of times a stoner ended up locked in the same way, only because he was high on marijuana or other substances.
Thank heavens no one had died in there so far.
-Sheila, would you look at the register, please? - Draco peeked into his boss's office-we have a code white; I'll take care of it-
They called it code white because once they opened the bathroom it was covered in white powder because of a minor dealer who tried to get rid of the stuff in his backpack by flushing it down the toilet, but he was so high up that he collapsed and flushed all the contents down the toilet.
Detectives came in and the whole thing, a little interrogation plus a thorough cleaning by the cops, it was an interesting week.
Sheila gave him a thumbs up and Draco grabbed the keys hanging near the door before returning to the tired-eyed client.
-Let's go see what's going on," Draco informed her.
He walked to the wall opposite the entrance where a hallway opened on both sides, a shorter one leading to the employee/emergency door that needed a code to open without the door ringing and a metal door leading to the freezer/storage room. On the other side were two doors leading to the bathrooms.
A part of him told him not to turn his back on this man, that he was dangerous, but Draco had no reason not to help a client and he wasn't going to make Sheila help him, if te man was really dangerous and not just another symptom of his paranoia.
He approached the men's room door and sure enough it was locked. He searched through the bunch of keys until he found the right one and fitted it into the lock.
-Imperius... –
Draco only managed to hear the whisper of the curse and the electrifying sensation of the magic around him before the curse filled him completely, making his body feel light and his mind fuzzy.
-Look at the coincidences of life, I found the little Malfoy bastard-
The man's face appeared in front of Draco, he still looked tired but the annoyance had passed to a cold and deep hatred in his eyes as he looked at him with a smirk making wrinkles on his face.
-I must tell you it was a surprise to see your pale arse walking around Muggle London." There was amusement in his voice, like a cat purring because he caught a canary. - And then to find the last of the sleek and pure Malfoy stripe at work. Can you imagine my shock? A Malfoy working with Muggles! -
Draco, though stunned, was still able to notice the slight and progressive change towards hysteria in the man's features, this was hilarious to him.
Draco being a prisoner in his own mind could not bring himself to feel panic or anything he should feel physically, only the softened fear that his conscious, but immobile part of him came to feel and that was even more terrifying.
He had to fight, but you don't fight an Imperius.
-You must not even know who I am, do you? - the man spoke again and if Draco could he would have nodded- Rufius Wrigth. We never met personally, but I knew your father, oh what a pompous man. Always walking around the ministry as if it belonged to him. Bloody pureblood. Although it was easy enough to ignore him if he had nothing on you and I swear- he laughed softly - I never did anything to your father. Do you want to know what was the one thing I did that got his fucking attention? -
He knew the young man couldn't answer.
Being Muggle-born, nothing more, that's all - his smile faded - and having a family, which made my daughter a half-blood and my wife a traitor. Do you remember them? Were you there when the damned Death Eaters like you took them to his mansion? Did you see how the one-who-must-not-be-named ordered them murdered for his amusement?! -
Instead of raising his tone, each question was more of an angry whisper, not wanting to draw the customers' attention to him.
-No, perhaps not, I saw your trial. You never killed anyone, just a poorly raised, cocky, spoiled young man, -Rufius placed his hands on Draco's shoulders with condescension- without enough brains to make his own decisions before the bad side of war trapped you. Just a child -
Draco watched as Rufius analyzed his emotionless face, for the imperius, as if he was looking for something in it, though his speech was spoken in mockery and tares, and yet Draco innocently allowed himself to hope.
-But my daughter was only a child, too." Rufius' face was covered with a more cold and determined face of hatred. - And if she couldn't live, Lucius Malfoy's bloodline won't either. -
The panic this time was so strong that, if he could feel it in his numb body, for a second.
-You will climb the fire stairs to the top of this building and throw yourself off the roof,- Rufius ordered coldly, -that's the least you deserve, but I don't want to get my hands dirty with Death Eater shit any more.
Rufius let go of his shoulders while the order settled in the spell forcing Draco's body to walk towards the employees' exit while Rufius went out to the coffee area as if nothing happened.
Draco pressed the emergency exit bar opening the door as the alarm went off.
-WOW, mate, did you forget your code or something's on fire? –
Larry, who was just arriving for his shift, stepped into his path.
Draco didn't look twice at him before heading for the fire ladder, not saying a word.
He could hear a noise of confusion from Larry as he climbed the small section of stairs from the floor.
-Draco, where are you going? What are you doing? - He heard Larry ask.
He had to stop. He wanted to stop, to talk and joke with Larry, but the spell was too strong.
He was already on the second floor of the fire escape when he heard the door open again in the distance and Sheila shouting something at him that he didn't quite understand.
Not having control of your body was a torture, only being able to be a spectator of her actions was a nightmare from which he could not wake up.
He reached the fifth floor and kept going up.
Draco knew that there were wizards and witches who had escaped the Imperius, they had been few and quite powerful, but it was something possible.
How did they did it?
The answer was their will. The willpower of those wizards and witches had saved them.
Harry Potter had been living proof of them. Draco knew it, everyone knew it, the chosen one had resisted its effects after several attempts.
Draco did not believe himself capable of achieving that and there was the detail.
Draco didn't believe he was capable, he didn't have enough willpower, he never had it and he knew it when he couldn't accept Dumbledore's help in the sixth year.
He had always been dominated by fear. Fear of what people would say, fear of his father, fear of the unknown, fear of losing his mother to the dark lord.
He reached the eighth floor. The rooftop.
Above the café were several floors of apartments and offices.
He slowly watched as his body approached the edge. He felt fear again.
He had considered this, suicide. He considered it when the dark lord stained his home, considered it when he was given his mission and considered it after the trials, but he was always a coward. He feared death as much as he wanted it.
He had decided to be brave after his mother find him when he couldn't even begin his pathetic attempt to cut his own wrists. He decided to live and grow with his mistakes, that life, karma would punish him for his decisions. He left the magical world, lived on the streets, made friends, got a job under the desk and got ahead.
Draco's body was a meter away from the edge.
And maybe this was his punishment, he had to die to atone, to pay for the deaths that his fear had caused.
-DRACO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? DUDE, YOU'RE SCARING US! - Larry shouted behind him, the edge a foot from his feet- DRACO? -
No no no no no no no
A part of Draco didn't want this and another part of him did, Imperius or no Imperius, he couldn't be sure, he didn't care anymore.
He saw the street below him, the passersby, the cars, the asphalt hot from the morning sun and Rufius Wrigth on the other side of the street watching him.
-DRACO NO! - he heard Larry's footsteps running towards him in despair.
The last thing he could feel was the wind in his face as gravity pulled his body down.
--------
Draco Lucius Malfoy never believed in a single theory of what happens after death, for him each one had its charm and its curse.
Imagine his surprise when, with a loud quiver, he awoke in the Hogwarts sickbay surrounded by a dead master/godfather and a dead principal, his mother, the now Principal McGonagall, Nurse Pomfrey and his, also deceased, father.
-Bloody fucking hell! - Draco said astonished.