After the weekend, the usual accompanying dread that followed the knowledge he had to go and be a salesman, failed to materialise. Standing in front of his sad wardrobe with Evie in her bouncer behind him he planned out the day aloud.

“First we’re getting dressed, or as it is in this house, covering our nakedness more like because there’s nothing grand in here. Though this is really comfortable,” he held up a washed out shirt. “What do you think? Brings out the colour of this polyester jumper, doesn’t it?”

Evie kicked her legs and whimpered slightly.

“No?” He reached into the wardrobe and brought out the sack like jumper Ginny had been wearing when he kissed her and she tasted of chocolate. “How about this one?”

Evie laughed.

“I’m going to take that as a yes and not as mockery for this garment because I will not have my dress sense judged by someone who wears clothes that come in one piece and can’t do up a button.”

The baby made her favoured raspberry blowing noise and, amused, he tugged on the jumper. Kneeling in front of the seat to unstrap her, he sent the little teddy bears hanging from the handle spinning to make her giggle.

“You’re much smarter than you’d like us to know, aren’t you? You’re just waiting to floor us one day when your first words are actually a sentence of four syllable words in iambic pentameter.” He unstrapped her, reaching for the little cardigan that looked big enough to fit a doll.

“Here we go, let’s cooperate today. I have to be on time or your grandpa will scold me.” At the word “grandpa” Evie looked up excitedly, a noise sounding like “Ooh-ohh,” escaping her.

“That’s right, grandpa. Do you want to come see him, hmm? I bet you could help Daddy sell a lot of stuff with those cheeks and that smile…” he trailed off as his own words sunk in. He’d just called himself “Daddy”.

Sitting back on his heels, he shook his head. It was an easy mistake to make. Everyone called him Liam and Evie’s dad, he was probably just subconsciously trying to make it easier for the baby who wouldn’t be able to understand he wasn’t her father. That was probably it.

Lifting her he felt a short, intense stab of regret.

Then Ginny called and walking downstairs he shrugged the feeling off as he entered the chaos that was breakfast time in the Malfoy kitchen.

Managing half a cup of coffee and a quarter of the front page of the paper in between helping feeding Evie and checking Liam knew his words for his spelling test he managed to leave almost on time. And okay, he had a formula stain on his jumper and his head was spinning with the question of whether it was “a-c-c-o-m-m-o-d-a-t-e” or “a-c-c-o-m-o-d-a-t-e” but all in all it had been a good morning.

“Draco, wait!” Ginny caught him on the porch, still dressed in her pyjamas. Expecting to be handed a shopping list or hear some appliance or other was breaking down and causing havoc, he turned dutifully. The next second he had his arms full of warm woman as she tugged him close for a heated kiss. Wrapping his arms around her, he easily pulled her up higher against him, leaning them against the wall. Ginny sighed as he bit her supple bottom lip and rose against him like a wave. Heat pooled in his stomach and with a feeling of regret he felt her pull back. Pushing her hair out of her eyes, she grinned.

“Have a great day.” Then with a wink she pinched his butt and disappeared into the house.

Stunned it took him a moment to let the laughter break free. Chuckling to himself, he jogged down the stairs. Across the road a man dressed in wellies, large boxer shorts and an untied ratty dressing gown stood, still staring, where he was about to put his rubbish in a bin. Raising his hand in greeting, Draco began whistling when he got into the car. Still whistling, Draco drove past the neighbour with his bin bag hovering over the bin.

He supposed it was no wonder, really, that someone would be surprised to see a couple, married thirteen years with two children, snog on their porch. Wondering if this was a passion due to a feeling of renewal in their marriage because he was actually a different person or if it was simply day to day proceedings in Alternative Draco’s life, he signalled to turn. Though he would like to give himself the credit, he was fairly sure he could deduce this was how his doppelganger’s marriage worked. And damn him if he wasn’t a bit jealous of it. To get sent off to work with a farewell like that put a spring in a man’s step, to say the least.

Still grinning to himself, he pulled into the car park outside the shopping centre. Feeling lucky, as a spot just opened, he slid into it. It wasn’t until he got to the second floor, just outside Arthur Weasley’s shop that he realized he was still whistling. Stopping, appalled with himself, he shook his head. There were lines, lines that shouldn’t be crossed. He was only here until he could be switched back, there was no reason to lose himself. Draco Malfoy did not whistle.

After telling himself this sternly, he entered the shop.

“Draco, there you are. You look like you’ve had a good night’s sleep?” Arthur Weasley’s jolly face appeared over the shelves of “Crockery That Doesn’t Wash Itself”.

Draco hesitated slightly. He may be, and he had to swallow back a wave of nausea at the thought, on friendly terms with the Weasley patriarch in this universe but he doubted friendly enough to state his good mood was due to snogging his daughter up against the wall of their house in front of all and sundry.

“Ah...yes. Good morning. I think Evie’s about to speak and Liam is sure to ace his spelling test today.” He moved deeper into the shop and to his surprise, Arthur Weasley followed, his slightly bobbing walk making him feel like he was followed by some sort of toy on a string.

“Excellent, excellent. Well, Evie may be a little behind her cousins on talking but you can see she’s intelligent. One of these days, she’ll blurt out a whole sentence and we’ll all be amazed.”

For some reason gratitude rose in his chest and, surprised and flabbergasted, Draco squashed it.

“I agree.” Hearing it was a bit curt, even for him, he added his earlier thought, “and it’ll be in iambic pentameter.”

Arthur Weasley chortled.

“No doubt. And if her brother is anything to go by, she’ll be one of the brightest witches at Hogwarts when the time comes.”

Draco frowned.

“It’s ages until Liam and Evie are off to school.” Something about the idea didn’t sit right with him at all. Liam and Evie leaving their house, joining the ranks of Hogwarts? Would that innocent, loving boy be spoiled by inter house politics and the at times unfriendly atmosphere hundreds of miles away from his home? Would he be sorted into a house, and would Alternative Draco care which one? He tried to picture Liam get sorted into Slytherin and failed. The boy was smart, and cunning and not a little manipulative when he wanted to be, but he didn’t have the drive, the need for Slytherin. Though he was no Gryffindork either. Surprised to feel little resentment that his son wouldn’t be sorted into his old house, he frowned.

“It seems like it will be forever but it flashes past. In a minute they’re off to school, the next they’re getting married and having children of their own.” Arthur Weasley looked as if was reliving old memories for a moment before focusing back on him. “So just enjoy it now.” His face cleared up completely, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“But then again, sometimes they bring home good partners who make them happy, which in turn makes a father happy.”

“Ah, Mr. Weasley...Arthur, I…”

“Oh, don’t fuss. I’m old enough to say what I like when I feel like saying it. Also, I’m laying the groundwork to make you agree to take a shift next Saturday. Molly’s got it in her head there’s some flower show she wants to see.”

“Work on a Saturday?”

“I know you haven’t in a long time, but Norman is off and Shelby’s daughter is still sick and Molly had that look in her eyes…”

“Fine, fine.”

“Draco, you’re my favourite son in law.”

“Ha ha.” Leaving his things in his office, dumping the sweater that already felt too warm he ventured out in the shop again. Beaming when he saw him, Arthur called him over.

“Draco, tell this fine man why he can’t go wrong with a seventy-five inch tellyvision.” The customer standing with his back to him turned and Draco blinked when he recognised him. Tall, lean and handsome, dressed in an impeccable muggle suit - though it was Hugo Boss, not Italian - stood Blaise Zabini.

In his reality, he had not seen the former Slytherin since graduation and hadn’t missed it either. Blaise was intelligent and less annoying than many of his housemates but he had never been in Draco’s circle, preferring his own company to that of others. The years had turned him from pretty boy to handsome man and the glasses he now wore suited him well. Like his suit, they had a price tag of proportions as well. On his wrist, a vintage Patek Phillippe watch peeked out of a French cuff and his shoes cost more than Draco earned as a salesman in a year.

Suddenly, it clicked in place - Zabini’s firm was organising the Azure deal. For all intents and purposes, Blaise Zabini had taken his place in this universe. This, in a different way, was also Alternative Draco.

Breeding, habit and a general disinterest in life around him ensured Zabini never showed much emotion so when he spotted Draco, the slight widening of his eyes was his version of his chin hitting the floor and his eyes popping out of their sockets like on the cartoons Liam liked to watch.

“Malfoy?” The well-modulated, polished voice was incredulous.

“Zabini,” Draco greeted him coolly.

“Oh, you know each other? Splendid, splendid, I’ll leave you to catch up.” Arthur Weasley bounced off, pound signs in his eyes already.

“This is what you do now?” Blaise asked, looking around the shop as if it was the equivalent of chasing people down the street with fake watches sewn to the inside of his coat.

“It is. So, you’re after the seventy-five inch television then? Can’t go wrong with that.”

Zabini, never one for small talk, still seemed unable to get back to his original purpose.

“You...You are actually a salesman here?” Now the tone had changed to...almost concern, as if he’d found Draco in a back alley, a needle sticking out of his arm.

“I am.” His tone chilled, the sharp edges of it able to cut diamonds. It was a tone Zabini would do well to remember his housemates had known to give in to or face the consequences. Clearly, the other man did as he held up his hands.

“I just...you of all people, working here, you have to admit for someone who hasn’t seen you since school it’s...bizarre.”

Draco would indeed admit it, and even agree, but only to himself. But what right did Zabini have to sit on his high horse and look down on those who enjoyed what they did for an honest living?

“Do you know what I find bizarre? That you paid thirty-five million for Azure. They would have agreed to twenty.”

“Would they, now?” Zabini’s tone was amused.

“They would. With political aspirations and a son in prison, the CEO would have been quite amenable to a price drop.”

“His son is at Oxford and will be graduating at the top of his class.”

“His second son, yes. The oldest is doing time for assault. And if that didn’t help, then perhaps mention of his third son would help.”

“He doesn’t have a third son.” Zabini crossed his arms.

“Doesn’t he? I’d check with his mother, the mistress in Cancun, she’ll be devastated to know her son doesn’t exist.” Tilting his head, Draco smirked.

“Your researchers suck, Zabini, and they cost you fifteen million pounds a year. If I were you, I’d take a good look at my team. If you want the television, tell them at the till. Goodbye.” Turning on his heel, he left the other man blinking, once again his version of an undignified gape.

 

o.O.o

 

 

Three days later, Draco had an owl, the logo on the headed letter familiar. A stylised “Z” and “P” - Zabini-Parkinson. An invitation to the London head office - ironically at the same address as the London headquarters of Malfoy Holdings. He looked up over the edge of the letter to see Ginny sitting on the floor with Evie in her arms, reading a book that did little but state the obvious about various farmyard animals. Around them, Liam was driving his trike in increasingly smaller circles as he made train noises. He sounded like an asthmatic bear. He was dressed in some cast offs from some cousin or other and the sweater was too big, the sleeves rolled up. His new shoes were already scuffed and his jeans had a hole on the knee.

Maybe there was still something he could do for them.

Dressing in his anniversary suit, now altered to suit him perfectly, by a surprisingly handy Molly Weasley, he set off for London. Surprised to feel nerves tensing in his stomach, he looked up at the tall building that usually only made him feel a proprietary pride. Leaving the beaten up old car, he climbed out and went inside.

The nerves weren’t due to facing Zabini, or being in the impressive building. It was because he had one chance, one chance to pull his family from where they were to where they were supposed to be.

Alternative Draco’s family, he corrected himself. This was something he could do for that deadbeat and then know Ginny, Liam and Evie were provided for when he went back. But it hinged on how he did today, how the meeting played out.

Standing in the lift he straightened up. It was going to play out the way he wanted it to play out. He was Draco Lucien Malfoy, CEO of Malfoy Holdings, and he wouldn’t allow his family to live in a hovel.

Striding into the corner office - his office - he found Zabini standing next to a seated woman. It took him a moment to recognise Pansy Parkinson. She’d paid for a new nose. With two wings of sleek, dark hair, her new nose and a loss of puppy fat, she no longer looked like the pug she had at school. Now she looked like an Afghan dog. Dressed in a navy suit, she uncrossed her legs and stood when he entered.

“Draco,” her voice was deep and husky, and he knew, completely false as her natural register was high and nasal.

“Parkinson.”

She stopped her advance, the welcoming smile stiffening slightly.

“So brusque.” Tossing the shiny hair she shrugged. “Then again, you always were...Well,” she giggled in a way he recalled and felt his insides recoil, “almost all the time.”

He knew the time she referred to. Throughout their school years, she had had her sight set on him, hounding him with a dogged determination. He’d never found her remotely interesting or attractive but one evening of too much Firewhisky and a fight with his father had resulted in a disastrous lapse of judgement. To which she never stopped referring. In many ways, he thought, for her it hadn’t been love, after a few years it had been a burning determination to make him lose, give in, prove him wrong.

Ignoring her overture, he nodded instead to Zabini. Put out, Pansy returned to her seat. Adopting a cold, disinterested stance, she sat stiffly. He suddenly missed Ginny who didn’t have an ounce of pretense. She didn’t have to. All that Pansy wanted - attention, admiration and respect - Ginny got without putting on any airs or acts. Or perhaps that was why she got it.

“Malfoy, I’ve spoken to Pansy and we were interested in hearing more of your...particular insight into Azure.”

“And you’ll have it.” Draco let his lips stretch in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “For a price.”

 

Author notes: Bet you didn't expect this already! Hope you enjoyed, //S.

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