The International Apparation terminal was almost empty, few opting for such an early morning departure. The big hall with the little raised platforms all held pictures of the next spot so you could imagine it as you transported yourself. An Apparition spell would only work a fairly short distance and you had to land on a few platforms in the Atlantic to get to America. This morning there was one registered traveller for the U.S, a Draco Malfoy. Return date - undetermined. It was the undetermined part that seemed to be causing the girl he was with some concern and their voices echoed eerily in the empty hall as he reassured her.
“I’ll be back, Ginny, I promise you.”
“You’ve told me before….I just…Do you really have to go?”
“We talked about this. I need to go. The business won’t take off without American involvement. I have to go.”
“You don’t have to. What if it stays a small company? That’s okay, we don’t need too much. Just you and me and a little house. Think about it, we could start our lives together, right now. We can leave here and just be a family. I want to be your family, Draco.”
He stepped down from the platform and hope lit in her caramel eyes.
“You will be my family, Ginny, I know it. But I have to do this. For us. I want to be able to give you a future, a real one. You deserve everything, so that’s what I’m going to get you.”
She gripped his arms, leaned closer.
“Draco, I don’t need everything, I don’t want everything. The only thing I want is you. Us.”
He wouldn’t have been able to imagine a year ago that this would be the reason he would hesitate to get his business off the ground. A year ago he had started his final year of school, to make up for the one he missed. Suddenly the girl he had been able to ignore most of the time as she was a year behind was in all his classes. It had taken a few weeks of term before attraction had won over stubbornness and another two months before the word love fell from Draco Malfoy’s lips.
In Ginny he had found a worthy opponent who would challenge him on everything he assumed. They would fight as much as they were at peace but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Except this.
She really did deserve better, he needed to be better. Once he was he would come back and he would marry Ginny Weasley.
“Ginny, I love you. We’ll make it through this. We’ll write everyday, I’ll even learn how to use a muggle telephone if I have to.”
Tears glittered in her eyes but she managed a weak smile.
“A telephone? You?”
“Anything, if it means I can talk to you.”
She drew a deep breath, her shoulders slumping.
“Promise me you’re coming back one more time?”
He tilted her head up,
“I promise.” He claimed her lips and as she clung to him he kissed her goodbye. He imagined he could already feel his heart tearing apart, one half getting left behind in Britain as he went.
“Sir, your Apparition window is open.”
Pulling apart he squeezed her hand before stepping back up on the platform.
“I love you, Ginny.” The last thing he saw before the expanse of the Atlantic around him was her face, tears streaming from her eyes as she mouthed,
“I love you too, Draco.”
o.O.o
Draco Malfoy woke with a start. Realizing he was in his own bed, in his own apartment, not in the British International Apparition Hall, he sunk back into the warm cocoon of his sheets.
Just a stupid dream.
He glanced over at the clock and gave up on the thought of catching a few more minutes of sleep. The alarm would go off in ten minutes anyway. With a sigh he got up. The longing for bed soon evaporated as he walked through the cool, luxurious air of his London apartment along with the remnants of the dream. Padding into the kitchen, with its deep sea-green tiles and granite worktops, he pushed the button on his coffee machine that would have been filled and prepared by the maid last night. It gurgled and sputtered and the wonderful scent of the elixir of life started spreading in the room.
Draco went over to his little kitchen TV, enchanted to work in his flat even with the interference of magic and switched it to the Muggle news. As the square-jawed man spoke in his succinct news anchor way of the plans for a new highway development Draco went for his newspapers. As he hated littering the owls of the Daily Prophet were instructed to deliver the paper to his mailbox, not actually come and find him. That meant his Muggle newspapers and magic newspapers always lay tidily side by side every morning on his doorstep. This morning was no different and collecting them he strode back down the hall.
As always he took pleasure in the perfection surrounding him. The cream colored walls were hung with unobtrusive but carefully chosen art and the dark antiques stood well against them.
Turning left back into the kitchen he tossed the papers on the table before getting a mug out of a cupboard. Pouring the coffee he inhaled deeply and felt his brain stirring in response. He was never really awake before his first cup. Taking a sip he felt energy spreading all the way to his fingertips. He’d never understand the wizarding world’s obsession with tea when there was coffee.
With a content sigh he sat down at the table and muted the TV before shaking the creases out of his papers. The front page earned a slanted smile as he read the article featuring the story of how his company was acquiring one of Britain’s largest corporations. It was well worth a smile though the price was astronomical - it was a bargain for what he was getting.
Seeing the stock reports starting to roll on the TV screen over the edge of the paper he turned the sound up and shifted his focus.
After his second cup of coffee and finishing his papers he went into the bedroom again. Glancing at the clock he was satisfied it only showed six am and grabbed sweatpants and a t-shirt before steering into his home gym.
His flat, though on the wizarding side, was inspired by its non-magic counterparts in London. If there was one thing Muggles were good at, it was taking care of themselves. And all it took to achieve was money. He had plenty of money.
As he got on his treadmill to warm up he thought back to how his life had changed since he first entered the muggle world. Right out of school he had used the remnants of the Malfoy fortune, with his father’s blessing, to set up a company in the wizarding world. It had gone over well, earning him a small but steady income and allowing him to spend his free time with Ginny. Rather soon it had become obvious that the British wizarding world was too small for his ambition and he’d decided to set his sight on the empire of enterprise, America. It had taken a while to convince Ginny but in the end she had agreed, wanting him to have all he wanted. She would still be at the Healers’ College for another two years and once he was back they would pick up where they’d left off.
He had fully intended to, back then. But America had proved a challenge, one he enjoyed and diving deeper and deeper into a world full of ambition, adrenaline and high stakes, Ginny had slowly faded from his everyday. Fights had crept into more and more of their conversations and in the end they’d broken it off. He’d sat after that, stunned and disbelieving.
He’d gone so far as to pack his bags to go back when an emergency at the office had called him back to reality. The only thing that would help him not think of Ginny was work and work he did. Until she was little but a hazy memory of back when he had been someone else.
In America he had discovered just how much he enjoyed the dealing and the wheedling. He liked finding leverage and loopholes in thorny contracts. He’d started to love the game of it. Each deal was like the seduction of a woman to him. You found out what she liked, showered her in attention, told her what she wanted to hear. And in return you got what you wanted. Then you moved on to the next deal. Soon Malfoy Holdings Ltd had been one of the largest companies in the wizarding world with interests ranging from agriculture, property, manufacturing to travelling, publishing and restaurants, spanning nations.
It had been the dream company, what he had always wanted. And living in it he had been bored to death. Restless, antsy, feeling limited by his surroundings. His days at the office had become shorter and shorter as all business now took care of itself.
Facing retired life at twenty-six he had been afraid for the first time since he took up the director’s chair. Afraid of boredom. That fear was what had driven him to the Muggle world for the first time. Compared to the wizarding world the Muggle world was endless. The possibilities grew like weeds every day, the environment changing as quickly as cut flowers would wilt.
So he had decided his next challenge. Returning to Britain to venture into it from a place he knew he had found himself nervous for the first time in years standing in the Leaky Cauldron six years ago. It had been exhilarating. He had relished that just stepping out into it was a leap and squaring his shoulders he had ventured out.
Dressed in what the salesman from Gladrags assured him was the height of fashion for Muggles he had looked around in wonder at the bizarre mix of people rushing by. Though they were all dressed differently it didn’t take him long to figure out he was not indeed dressed as a normal Muggle at the height of fashion. Everyone he saw seemed to be wearing blue trousers of some variety but he had no problem spotting the businessmen as they wore something similar to formal robes. Seeing an advert for it in a window he learned they were called suits. He could have gone into the store and bought the closest thing on a rack but after the mishap of being dressed weirdly enough to have people stare at him he was not in a hurry to repeat that mistake.
Making up his mind he had grabbed the arm of a man passing him. That was before he had learnt that the sense of entitlement he had a birthright to in the wizarding world didn’t necessarily translate to the Muggle side. Luckily this man didn’t seem to mind and all he did was pull his sunglasses down so they rested on the tip of his long nose and give Draco a once over. In a slow, deliberate way that Draco had rarely experienced from a man.
“Excuse me, can you who sells the best suits in town?”
“That would be Savile Row, honey.” The man gave him an appraising look, “but they’re quite expensive.” Deciding to ignore the fact the man had referred to him as “honey” out of politeness, Draco stated,
“Money’s not a problem.” He’d had a ridiculous amount of money exchanged in Gringott’s for the funny paper money Muggles used. It was strange to not have the comforting weight of galleons at his side.
“My favorite sentence in the world. You’re not from…around here, are you?” The man gave his clothes another once over and his lip curled in disgust.
“No.”
“And have you ever been to London before?”
“No.” At least not Muggle London.
“You poor thing. Well, never say I’m not a fashion humanitarian. I’ll take you to Savile Row. It’s just around the corner.” Then to his astonishment the man had taken him by the hand and led him like a child. If this man was anything to go by he would struggle doing business on this side. In a few minutes they had reached a quiet street lined with what even Draco’s untrained eye could distinguish as upper end men’s fashion. The connoisseur in him started to drool a little over the fine fabrics on display. Soft wool, fine silk, hand woven cotton. With deliberate moves the man led him into the cool air of one of the stores. He a glanced back over his shoulder.
“With your build, sweets, it can only be Italian.” Inside Draco could smell leather and expensive cologne. He inhaled deeply and looked around.
“Excuse me, this is an emergency.” The man pulling him hailed an assistant who was paid just enough to only let his eyes widen a fraction before he got his facial muscles under control when he saw what Draco was wearing.
“Of course.” It really sounded like, ‘Yes, I can see it’s an emergency’. “What did you have in mind, sir?”
“Well, my friend er…” He looked back at Draco expectantly.
“Draco. Draco Malfoy.”
“For real? You poor thing,” the man said and his nose wrinkled slightly and patted his arm as if this was something to be comforted over. “My friend…Dray, here, as you can see is in grave need of assistance. From looking at him, I’d say Armani, 40 long, maybe try a light grey with a pearl white shirt and a good tie? Nothing flashy.”
“Certainly. This way Mr. Malfoy. Will you be joining us Mr…?” The salesman enquired and he must’ve seen the slight panic in Draco’s eyes. So he nodded.
“Yes, I will. I never miss a makeover. And you can just call me Jimmy.” Once in the suit he had bought (for a price that had made even him raise his eyebrows as he quickly converted the sum to galleons in his head) Draco felt better. As a sign of gratitude he’d asked Jimmy if he wanted some money for his help but the man had just laughed at him and then told him he could buy him lunch.
That had been the beginning of Draco’s first real friendship. With Jimmy as a guide he had learnt many of the wonders of the Muggle world and after six months he had bought his first Muggle company. The thrill had suddenly been back. The chase had started again and he felt alive. Six years later he spent his working days on the Muggle side, managing a company easily twice the size of his wizarding one.
This particular day was full of meetings, a conference call and final discussions on the acquisition. Unless he got sidetracked with work he was rounding the day off having dinner with an heiress to a big dairy company. All in all, a good day.
Stepping off the treadmill he switched to the weights wall and turned his mind to the work ahead.
o.O.o
He only realized it was Christmas Eve when he remembered it had been two months of hearing annoying jingly music playing in every blessed place he went. That and his employees muttering something about it when he called for an emergency last meeting about the acquisition. That meant dinner with his mother at the Manor tomorrow. He sighed. His mother deeply disapproved of his dealings in the Muggle world and listening to her gently try and nudge him towards a “respectable” paper-pushing job in his wizarding firm was tiresome. And he’d have to pick up a gift for her. The one Muggle thing his mother allowed was fashion. She had a weak spot for Chanel that no maternal disapproval could tame. Maybe he could get Jimmy to pick something. He really didn’t have the time.
“Mr. Malfoy?” He must have missed his secretary knocking on the door as she was right next to him when she spoke. Looking up he saw her leaning over the desk, her strict suit making her look like an upside down exclamation point, widest at the top.
“Mr. Malfoy there’s a Jenny Weasley on the line for you. She says it’s a personal call?” His secretary sounded mildly surprised at this as the only person to ever call his business line was Jimmy. His mother wouldn’t condescend to use a “muggle contraption” to contact her son.
“It’s Ginny. Ginny Weasley. Tell her I’m in a meeting.”
She picked up the receiver and spoke, in her cool, cultivated phone voice.
“Mr. Malfoy is in a meeting right now. Can I take a message?” Scribbling something on a post it his secretary nodded, her earring clicking against the receiver.
“I will pass on your message, thank you for calling Malfoy Holdings, Miss Weasley.” Hanging up her face was about as surprised as her botox treatments would allow her to look. “Miss Weasley would like me to tell you she’s moving abroad shortly and she’s found some of your things packing up the flat. If you would like to pick them up, here’s her address and if not she’ll give them to a charity shop.” Wide eyed she pushed the post it note over to him.
“Right. I’ll just let her throw it out.”
“Really? Do you know what it is?”
“No idea. That was a long time ago.”
“I still can’t believe you have ever been so serious about someone you’d leave stuff at her place. Was this before you sold your soul?” She smiled sweetly and he chuckled.
“It was. But I got a damn good price for it.”
“So I see.” She gestured to the elegant corner office. “Are you sure you’re not going to go get the stuff? See her? She must’ve meant a lot to you once.”
“Old girlfriends are like old newspapers – when you’re finished with them, leave them be so they can be recycled.”
“God, you’re horrible. Must be why I like you. Anyway, you have her address and I’d hurry if I were getting my things, sounded like she was calling from abroad already.”
With that she sashayed out. From abroad, huh? So she was living on the wizarding side still – magical interference would often cause what Muggles thought sounded like long distance calls.
He leaned back in his desk chair, spun it to look out over the London cityscape. Had he done it more often he could have known it was holiday season earlier as tacky lights were strung all over the place.
Christmas, again.
Every year it would remind him of the Christmas he’d spend saying goodbye to Ginny Weasley in the drafty Apparition Hall. Somehow it seemed to mark the beginning of his life as it was now. The last time he’d seen her.
If they had worked out in the end he’d probably be in the middle of a Burrow Christmas on the 25th. Full of off-key singing and too many people and forced jolliness. Thousands of noisy red-haired children. With Ginny smiling at him, her deep brown eyes shining as she ran her hand through his hair like she used to…
Shaking his head he sat up straight. What the hell was he doing sitting in his corner office daydreaming of memories of a stupid, short, teenage crush? It had been a lapse of judgment. Months of it. Months of madness, a passion he’d never experienced before or after.
What was her business calling him at the only time of year when he still thought about her anyway? Still, she had been so long ago. It hardly mattered now. Especially not now. He had a board of shareholders to cajole into compliance.
o.O.o
When he left the meeting, after a resounding vote in his favor, he opted to not take the car. The air was cold and he would be able to enjoy a peaceful London for once. Walking home the streets were empty. Everyone was tucked in their homes eating Christmas dinner and watching lame specials on the telly. But as his meeting had gone well he conceded to give in to a little Christmas spirit. Get some eggnog, some rum and have a little party. Stepping into the only open store for miles he wished he’d just gone home and had his customary whisky.
Inside was a man pointing a gun at the terrified cashier. Discreetly Draco let his wand slide down his sleeve and muttered a stunning spell. To his surprise the cashier froze while the man with the gun just turned.
“That won’t work on me, Slick.” The man, he saw now, looked like a vagrant in shabby clothes and sporting a long white beard for a disguise. A santa beard, ironically. To Draco he looked like how Dumbledore might have looked if he’d been homeless. Though he was clearly mentally unstable and holding a gun it galled Draco to be called Slick. So he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe.
“They never have much cash in those. You picked the wrong place.”
“Oh, I’m not here for money.”
“No?” Draco nodded to the gun still pointed to the muggle cashier’s chest.
“No. I’m here to make him reassess his priorities.” He looked back to Draco for a moment. “Money’s not everything, you know.”
“It’s a lot.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Look at yourself, how can you say money doesn’t matter? Do you have a place to stay? Food to eat?” He raised an eyebrow.
“When I choose. But I have something much more important.”
“What’s more important than money?” The man angled his head and shuffled closer, abandoning the still frozen muggle.
“I wonder…” He peered up at Draco with dark, surprisingly intelligent eyes. “Maybe I wasn’t sent here for him, but for you…Yes, yes, I think I might be…”
“Sent here to do what for me? By whom?”
“Sent to reassess your priorities.” Then everything turned black.
“I’ll be back, Ginny, I promise you.”
“You’ve told me before….I just…Do you really have to go?”
“We talked about this. I need to go. The business won’t take off without American involvement. I have to go.”
“You don’t have to. What if it stays a small company? That’s okay, we don’t need too much. Just you and me and a little house. Think about it, we could start our lives together, right now. We can leave here and just be a family. I want to be your family, Draco.”
He stepped down from the platform and hope lit in her caramel eyes.
“You will be my family, Ginny, I know it. But I have to do this. For us. I want to be able to give you a future, a real one. You deserve everything, so that’s what I’m going to get you.”
She gripped his arms, leaned closer.
“Draco, I don’t need everything, I don’t want everything. The only thing I want is you. Us.”
He wouldn’t have been able to imagine a year ago that this would be the reason he would hesitate to get his business off the ground. A year ago he had started his final year of school, to make up for the one he missed. Suddenly the girl he had been able to ignore most of the time as she was a year behind was in all his classes. It had taken a few weeks of term before attraction had won over stubbornness and another two months before the word love fell from Draco Malfoy’s lips.
In Ginny he had found a worthy opponent who would challenge him on everything he assumed. They would fight as much as they were at peace but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Except this.
She really did deserve better, he needed to be better. Once he was he would come back and he would marry Ginny Weasley.
“Ginny, I love you. We’ll make it through this. We’ll write everyday, I’ll even learn how to use a muggle telephone if I have to.”
Tears glittered in her eyes but she managed a weak smile.
“A telephone? You?”
“Anything, if it means I can talk to you.”
She drew a deep breath, her shoulders slumping.
“Promise me you’re coming back one more time?”
He tilted her head up,
“I promise.” He claimed her lips and as she clung to him he kissed her goodbye. He imagined he could already feel his heart tearing apart, one half getting left behind in Britain as he went.
“Sir, your Apparition window is open.”
Pulling apart he squeezed her hand before stepping back up on the platform.
“I love you, Ginny.” The last thing he saw before the expanse of the Atlantic around him was her face, tears streaming from her eyes as she mouthed,
“I love you too, Draco.”
o.O.o
Draco Malfoy woke with a start. Realizing he was in his own bed, in his own apartment, not in the British International Apparition Hall, he sunk back into the warm cocoon of his sheets.
Just a stupid dream.
He glanced over at the clock and gave up on the thought of catching a few more minutes of sleep. The alarm would go off in ten minutes anyway. With a sigh he got up. The longing for bed soon evaporated as he walked through the cool, luxurious air of his London apartment along with the remnants of the dream. Padding into the kitchen, with its deep sea-green tiles and granite worktops, he pushed the button on his coffee machine that would have been filled and prepared by the maid last night. It gurgled and sputtered and the wonderful scent of the elixir of life started spreading in the room.
Draco went over to his little kitchen TV, enchanted to work in his flat even with the interference of magic and switched it to the Muggle news. As the square-jawed man spoke in his succinct news anchor way of the plans for a new highway development Draco went for his newspapers. As he hated littering the owls of the Daily Prophet were instructed to deliver the paper to his mailbox, not actually come and find him. That meant his Muggle newspapers and magic newspapers always lay tidily side by side every morning on his doorstep. This morning was no different and collecting them he strode back down the hall.
As always he took pleasure in the perfection surrounding him. The cream colored walls were hung with unobtrusive but carefully chosen art and the dark antiques stood well against them.
Turning left back into the kitchen he tossed the papers on the table before getting a mug out of a cupboard. Pouring the coffee he inhaled deeply and felt his brain stirring in response. He was never really awake before his first cup. Taking a sip he felt energy spreading all the way to his fingertips. He’d never understand the wizarding world’s obsession with tea when there was coffee.
With a content sigh he sat down at the table and muted the TV before shaking the creases out of his papers. The front page earned a slanted smile as he read the article featuring the story of how his company was acquiring one of Britain’s largest corporations. It was well worth a smile though the price was astronomical - it was a bargain for what he was getting.
Seeing the stock reports starting to roll on the TV screen over the edge of the paper he turned the sound up and shifted his focus.
After his second cup of coffee and finishing his papers he went into the bedroom again. Glancing at the clock he was satisfied it only showed six am and grabbed sweatpants and a t-shirt before steering into his home gym.
His flat, though on the wizarding side, was inspired by its non-magic counterparts in London. If there was one thing Muggles were good at, it was taking care of themselves. And all it took to achieve was money. He had plenty of money.
As he got on his treadmill to warm up he thought back to how his life had changed since he first entered the muggle world. Right out of school he had used the remnants of the Malfoy fortune, with his father’s blessing, to set up a company in the wizarding world. It had gone over well, earning him a small but steady income and allowing him to spend his free time with Ginny. Rather soon it had become obvious that the British wizarding world was too small for his ambition and he’d decided to set his sight on the empire of enterprise, America. It had taken a while to convince Ginny but in the end she had agreed, wanting him to have all he wanted. She would still be at the Healers’ College for another two years and once he was back they would pick up where they’d left off.
He had fully intended to, back then. But America had proved a challenge, one he enjoyed and diving deeper and deeper into a world full of ambition, adrenaline and high stakes, Ginny had slowly faded from his everyday. Fights had crept into more and more of their conversations and in the end they’d broken it off. He’d sat after that, stunned and disbelieving.
He’d gone so far as to pack his bags to go back when an emergency at the office had called him back to reality. The only thing that would help him not think of Ginny was work and work he did. Until she was little but a hazy memory of back when he had been someone else.
In America he had discovered just how much he enjoyed the dealing and the wheedling. He liked finding leverage and loopholes in thorny contracts. He’d started to love the game of it. Each deal was like the seduction of a woman to him. You found out what she liked, showered her in attention, told her what she wanted to hear. And in return you got what you wanted. Then you moved on to the next deal. Soon Malfoy Holdings Ltd had been one of the largest companies in the wizarding world with interests ranging from agriculture, property, manufacturing to travelling, publishing and restaurants, spanning nations.
It had been the dream company, what he had always wanted. And living in it he had been bored to death. Restless, antsy, feeling limited by his surroundings. His days at the office had become shorter and shorter as all business now took care of itself.
Facing retired life at twenty-six he had been afraid for the first time since he took up the director’s chair. Afraid of boredom. That fear was what had driven him to the Muggle world for the first time. Compared to the wizarding world the Muggle world was endless. The possibilities grew like weeds every day, the environment changing as quickly as cut flowers would wilt.
So he had decided his next challenge. Returning to Britain to venture into it from a place he knew he had found himself nervous for the first time in years standing in the Leaky Cauldron six years ago. It had been exhilarating. He had relished that just stepping out into it was a leap and squaring his shoulders he had ventured out.
Dressed in what the salesman from Gladrags assured him was the height of fashion for Muggles he had looked around in wonder at the bizarre mix of people rushing by. Though they were all dressed differently it didn’t take him long to figure out he was not indeed dressed as a normal Muggle at the height of fashion. Everyone he saw seemed to be wearing blue trousers of some variety but he had no problem spotting the businessmen as they wore something similar to formal robes. Seeing an advert for it in a window he learned they were called suits. He could have gone into the store and bought the closest thing on a rack but after the mishap of being dressed weirdly enough to have people stare at him he was not in a hurry to repeat that mistake.
Making up his mind he had grabbed the arm of a man passing him. That was before he had learnt that the sense of entitlement he had a birthright to in the wizarding world didn’t necessarily translate to the Muggle side. Luckily this man didn’t seem to mind and all he did was pull his sunglasses down so they rested on the tip of his long nose and give Draco a once over. In a slow, deliberate way that Draco had rarely experienced from a man.
“Excuse me, can you who sells the best suits in town?”
“That would be Savile Row, honey.” The man gave him an appraising look, “but they’re quite expensive.” Deciding to ignore the fact the man had referred to him as “honey” out of politeness, Draco stated,
“Money’s not a problem.” He’d had a ridiculous amount of money exchanged in Gringott’s for the funny paper money Muggles used. It was strange to not have the comforting weight of galleons at his side.
“My favorite sentence in the world. You’re not from…around here, are you?” The man gave his clothes another once over and his lip curled in disgust.
“No.”
“And have you ever been to London before?”
“No.” At least not Muggle London.
“You poor thing. Well, never say I’m not a fashion humanitarian. I’ll take you to Savile Row. It’s just around the corner.” Then to his astonishment the man had taken him by the hand and led him like a child. If this man was anything to go by he would struggle doing business on this side. In a few minutes they had reached a quiet street lined with what even Draco’s untrained eye could distinguish as upper end men’s fashion. The connoisseur in him started to drool a little over the fine fabrics on display. Soft wool, fine silk, hand woven cotton. With deliberate moves the man led him into the cool air of one of the stores. He a glanced back over his shoulder.
“With your build, sweets, it can only be Italian.” Inside Draco could smell leather and expensive cologne. He inhaled deeply and looked around.
“Excuse me, this is an emergency.” The man pulling him hailed an assistant who was paid just enough to only let his eyes widen a fraction before he got his facial muscles under control when he saw what Draco was wearing.
“Of course.” It really sounded like, ‘Yes, I can see it’s an emergency’. “What did you have in mind, sir?”
“Well, my friend er…” He looked back at Draco expectantly.
“Draco. Draco Malfoy.”
“For real? You poor thing,” the man said and his nose wrinkled slightly and patted his arm as if this was something to be comforted over. “My friend…Dray, here, as you can see is in grave need of assistance. From looking at him, I’d say Armani, 40 long, maybe try a light grey with a pearl white shirt and a good tie? Nothing flashy.”
“Certainly. This way Mr. Malfoy. Will you be joining us Mr…?” The salesman enquired and he must’ve seen the slight panic in Draco’s eyes. So he nodded.
“Yes, I will. I never miss a makeover. And you can just call me Jimmy.” Once in the suit he had bought (for a price that had made even him raise his eyebrows as he quickly converted the sum to galleons in his head) Draco felt better. As a sign of gratitude he’d asked Jimmy if he wanted some money for his help but the man had just laughed at him and then told him he could buy him lunch.
That had been the beginning of Draco’s first real friendship. With Jimmy as a guide he had learnt many of the wonders of the Muggle world and after six months he had bought his first Muggle company. The thrill had suddenly been back. The chase had started again and he felt alive. Six years later he spent his working days on the Muggle side, managing a company easily twice the size of his wizarding one.
This particular day was full of meetings, a conference call and final discussions on the acquisition. Unless he got sidetracked with work he was rounding the day off having dinner with an heiress to a big dairy company. All in all, a good day.
Stepping off the treadmill he switched to the weights wall and turned his mind to the work ahead.
o.O.o
He only realized it was Christmas Eve when he remembered it had been two months of hearing annoying jingly music playing in every blessed place he went. That and his employees muttering something about it when he called for an emergency last meeting about the acquisition. That meant dinner with his mother at the Manor tomorrow. He sighed. His mother deeply disapproved of his dealings in the Muggle world and listening to her gently try and nudge him towards a “respectable” paper-pushing job in his wizarding firm was tiresome. And he’d have to pick up a gift for her. The one Muggle thing his mother allowed was fashion. She had a weak spot for Chanel that no maternal disapproval could tame. Maybe he could get Jimmy to pick something. He really didn’t have the time.
“Mr. Malfoy?” He must have missed his secretary knocking on the door as she was right next to him when she spoke. Looking up he saw her leaning over the desk, her strict suit making her look like an upside down exclamation point, widest at the top.
“Mr. Malfoy there’s a Jenny Weasley on the line for you. She says it’s a personal call?” His secretary sounded mildly surprised at this as the only person to ever call his business line was Jimmy. His mother wouldn’t condescend to use a “muggle contraption” to contact her son.
“It’s Ginny. Ginny Weasley. Tell her I’m in a meeting.”
She picked up the receiver and spoke, in her cool, cultivated phone voice.
“Mr. Malfoy is in a meeting right now. Can I take a message?” Scribbling something on a post it his secretary nodded, her earring clicking against the receiver.
“I will pass on your message, thank you for calling Malfoy Holdings, Miss Weasley.” Hanging up her face was about as surprised as her botox treatments would allow her to look. “Miss Weasley would like me to tell you she’s moving abroad shortly and she’s found some of your things packing up the flat. If you would like to pick them up, here’s her address and if not she’ll give them to a charity shop.” Wide eyed she pushed the post it note over to him.
“Right. I’ll just let her throw it out.”
“Really? Do you know what it is?”
“No idea. That was a long time ago.”
“I still can’t believe you have ever been so serious about someone you’d leave stuff at her place. Was this before you sold your soul?” She smiled sweetly and he chuckled.
“It was. But I got a damn good price for it.”
“So I see.” She gestured to the elegant corner office. “Are you sure you’re not going to go get the stuff? See her? She must’ve meant a lot to you once.”
“Old girlfriends are like old newspapers – when you’re finished with them, leave them be so they can be recycled.”
“God, you’re horrible. Must be why I like you. Anyway, you have her address and I’d hurry if I were getting my things, sounded like she was calling from abroad already.”
With that she sashayed out. From abroad, huh? So she was living on the wizarding side still – magical interference would often cause what Muggles thought sounded like long distance calls.
He leaned back in his desk chair, spun it to look out over the London cityscape. Had he done it more often he could have known it was holiday season earlier as tacky lights were strung all over the place.
Christmas, again.
Every year it would remind him of the Christmas he’d spend saying goodbye to Ginny Weasley in the drafty Apparition Hall. Somehow it seemed to mark the beginning of his life as it was now. The last time he’d seen her.
If they had worked out in the end he’d probably be in the middle of a Burrow Christmas on the 25th. Full of off-key singing and too many people and forced jolliness. Thousands of noisy red-haired children. With Ginny smiling at him, her deep brown eyes shining as she ran her hand through his hair like she used to…
Shaking his head he sat up straight. What the hell was he doing sitting in his corner office daydreaming of memories of a stupid, short, teenage crush? It had been a lapse of judgment. Months of it. Months of madness, a passion he’d never experienced before or after.
What was her business calling him at the only time of year when he still thought about her anyway? Still, she had been so long ago. It hardly mattered now. Especially not now. He had a board of shareholders to cajole into compliance.
o.O.o
When he left the meeting, after a resounding vote in his favor, he opted to not take the car. The air was cold and he would be able to enjoy a peaceful London for once. Walking home the streets were empty. Everyone was tucked in their homes eating Christmas dinner and watching lame specials on the telly. But as his meeting had gone well he conceded to give in to a little Christmas spirit. Get some eggnog, some rum and have a little party. Stepping into the only open store for miles he wished he’d just gone home and had his customary whisky.
Inside was a man pointing a gun at the terrified cashier. Discreetly Draco let his wand slide down his sleeve and muttered a stunning spell. To his surprise the cashier froze while the man with the gun just turned.
“That won’t work on me, Slick.” The man, he saw now, looked like a vagrant in shabby clothes and sporting a long white beard for a disguise. A santa beard, ironically. To Draco he looked like how Dumbledore might have looked if he’d been homeless. Though he was clearly mentally unstable and holding a gun it galled Draco to be called Slick. So he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe.
“They never have much cash in those. You picked the wrong place.”
“Oh, I’m not here for money.”
“No?” Draco nodded to the gun still pointed to the muggle cashier’s chest.
“No. I’m here to make him reassess his priorities.” He looked back to Draco for a moment. “Money’s not everything, you know.”
“It’s a lot.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Look at yourself, how can you say money doesn’t matter? Do you have a place to stay? Food to eat?” He raised an eyebrow.
“When I choose. But I have something much more important.”
“What’s more important than money?” The man angled his head and shuffled closer, abandoning the still frozen muggle.
“I wonder…” He peered up at Draco with dark, surprisingly intelligent eyes. “Maybe I wasn’t sent here for him, but for you…Yes, yes, I think I might be…”
“Sent here to do what for me? By whom?”
“Sent to reassess your priorities.” Then everything turned black.
Author notes: Welcome to a new story! Exciting! You would not believe how long this has been sitting as a WIP on my computer but this holiday season IT IS HAPPENING. The story will pick up a bit next chapter now that the foundation has been established. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and stay tuned for updates - I'm aiming to get this done before Christmas Day...Wish me luck and Merry Christmas fellow D/Gers!!
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