Draco Malfoy couldn't stop thinking about Harry Potter. He had spoken harshly to his Chocolate Frog card that morning and Harry had disappeared out of the frame. He hadn't returned and Draco was getting worried he wouldn't. "Sod it," he told himself. He spent too much time with that freaky thing anyway. He tucked it in his wallet and dragged himself out the door to go to work at yet another tea shop. He had been late a number of times to this one and the manager was this close to discharging him. Often he came to work drunk but he was able to hide it adequately. And on those more difficult days, he was late. He supposed the honeymoon was over. No more daydreaming that things would get better. No more pie in the sky about his lot. No, the Muggle honeymoon was definitely over.

Any money he made went to booze, not into any Muggle bank vault. He sometimes forgot to pay his rent. One day, while leaving his flat to go to work, the landlord was lying in wait for him. "Malfoy!

Draco turned, not liking the sound of that.

The man bore down on him. He was wearing a knit waistcoat over a dirty undershirt. Draco cringed back. "The rent is late. Have you got it?"

"Well, I get paid tomorrow afternoon. Surely you can wait till then-"

"And I've waited and I've waited. No more. You're out!" He turned his back on Draco and thumped down the stairs.

"What?" Draco ran after him. "Please, Mr. Bayford. Can't you give me a few more days-"

"I've given you two months as it is," he cast over his shoulder. "Your flat is padlocked and you won't be getting your kit, I can tell you."

Draco stood at the bottom step, watching the back of his landlord recede into the shadows of his own flat whereupon he shut the door.

Draco breathed. No. Not again! He couldn't be homeless again. His eyes stung with tears as he glanced heavenward into the smoky London sky. He knew he should have paid the rent straight off, but he needed his drink, didn't he? Everything else was so miserable. He at least had to have that!

He shook his head. Best not think about it now. He had to get to work and glancing at a digital clock on the side of the building across the lane, he could see he was already late.

He ran. He had forgotten to grab his jacket and now he was getting soaked by the fog. He hoped his manager would be understanding today. But what were the chances of that?

When he arrived, there was Mr. Blunt, glaring at him. "Sorry I'm late. Mr. Blunt. Had an argument with my landlord." Blunt said nothing, so he took that for what it was worth and escaped into the kitchens. He could tell right away they were short on staff. Mimi, the chubby waitress, told him that two had called in sick and Blunt was on the warpath.

He nodded, saying nothing. He knew Mimi had a "thing" for him. He wondered about pimping himself to her. After all, he needed a place to stay and his options were few. He watched her wide backside move through the kitchens and grimaced. He could do it. He knew he could. He'd done worse, hadn't he? The Dark Lord demanded he go on raids with him. Maybe he didn't personally do anything but standing by and doing nothing was complicit enough. Enough to convict him, that was for sure.

Yes, it looked like another night of carpet munching. Could the day get any worse?

Draco managed to break three teapots, which Blunt told him was coming out of his salary. At break, he stood outside with Mimi and shared a fag with her. She flapped her lashes at him and he supposed he should make some overtures before the day was out.

"Say Mimi," he said in his slickest Malfoy tone. "You're looking rather saucy lately."

She giggled hysterically and pushed on his shoulder. "Go on!"

"No, really." He leaned in next to her, his shoulder touching hers. "I've meant to say earlier, but, well. You know I don't go out much. I guess I'm a little shy about the girls. You know."

"You?"

"Yeah. Still waters run deep, and all that. What do you say we get together tonight?"

"Ooh. That would be lovely!"

Thought so. "But here's the thing, Mimi. I haven't got a Kn-er...a farthing to rub together. Could we make do with something at your place?"

"Oh, but my place is an absolute sty!"

With a pig to go with it. He forced a smile. "Oh you know blokes. Our places are always much worse. I wouldn't mind. Wouldn't even notice."

"Well...if you're sure. I have some left over curry from the other night. And I have a bottle of wine! We could make a night of it."

That's the plan. "Then it's a date. Oh. Better get back on shift. Don't want Blunt to burst a vessel." If he'd oblige with four...

Draco worked, enduring the lurid glances from an anxious Mimi. Merlin's balls. What had he reduced himself to? But didn't he say no matter who he had to shag, he'd never go homeless again?

"Malfoy, table six!" Blunt barked.

Draco blew his long fringe out of his eyes and grabbed his notepad from his apron. He stood over the table while the stupid prat bent over a sack, rummaging around. Haven't all day, you know.

When the man finally straightened out and looked at Draco square in the face, Draco froze. His mind was playing tricks with him. Too much talking to that Chocolate Frog card, no doubt. But as it slowly dawned on him that it was Harry Potter in the flesh his heart fell right to his stomach. Terror as he had only known with the Dark Lord seized him. Everything seemed to slow down as if a TimeTurner had been set. Potter stared at him with those blazing green eyes and Draco knew that he had come to kill him.

This was it. Death. At the hands of Potter. There was nothing more fitting in his estimation. Harry Potter had come to finish the job he had started when he killed the Dark Lord. Why he had taken so long to find Draco was the mysterious part.

But then Time seemed to start up again because Potter hadn't made a move for his wand. In fact, he looked just as shocked to see Draco as Draco was upon seeing him. Oh. So that's the way he was going to play it. Let's make fun of Malfoy living like a Muggle. Let's toy with him first like a cat and a mouse.

But why now? He could have done it when Draco surrendered to Potter at the last battle. But he hadn't treated Draco badly. He had been a gentleman. So why was Potter doing this now? Could it be...could it actually be that he didn't know Draco was here? That it was a surprise to him? But how could that be? Surely the Ministry was keeping track. They'd have to be to see that he was living like a Muggle as he was supposed to do.

Potter said nothing. Draco said nothing. A stand-off. Well, there was one thing Draco would not do. He had surrendered himself to Potter, not hoping for leniency but at least a chance, and he hadn't gotten it. He would not serve Harry Potter. He already served one Lord who turned out to be a complete madman. He would not serve Potter.

He slammed his notebook back in his pocket, did an about-face, and marched back to the kitchens, wondering with an itch to his neck when the magic would jet toward him and end it all. But no. Potter wasn't the kind to curse someone in the back. That had been Draco's ploy.

Once he slammed the door behind him he tried to breathe. He made it. But he was afraid to turn around now, to see Potter coming for him. If he pleaded on his hands and knees...No, dammit. He was a Malfoy. He could at least face his death like a man.

Blunt swooped down on him in a second. "What are you doing, Malfoy! That's a customer you're ignoring out there."

Draco took a deep breath to stop the shaking. He didn't succeed. "I won't serve him," he said. "He...he...." He tried to think of a lie and it came to him instantly. "He tried to steal from me once and I won't serve him here."

"You either serve him at once or you're sacked!"

Draco's fury rose to the surface. A few dishes crashed from the shelves without anyone touching them. "I said I won't! So I guess I quit!" He tore off his apron and shoved it into the manager's face as he stormed through the kitchen doors. He cast one poisonous glance at Potter who was still sitting and staring at him before he plunged out into the cold.

It was raining. Perfect! All Draco's plans were falling to the gutter. No job, no place to go, Harry Potter witnessing more of his humiliation. It was just getting better and better. His heart was too weary to go on. He'd already gone through too much. He would have been far better off in Azkaban. At least he would always know where his next meal was coming from. And without Dementors, how bad could it be? He only had two choices now. He could either commit some crime and commit suicide by police or try to perform some magic and get sent to Azkaban. Either one would suit. This was it. No more.

"Malfoy, wait up!"

Potter! He was after him. Should he make a break for it? Who cared anymore? Maybe he would A.K. him after all. All he knew, was that Harry Potter was somehow his destiny. It was fitting it was Potter. He stopped. He let the rain drench him. He shivered into it, feeling it all for the last time. If he was to die, it should be at the hands of Harry Potter. It all made some sort of horrible sense.

Draco sighed into the wind and slowly turned to meet his destiny...

The End...Except we know it isn't


Author Notes: It was hard finding a place to stop this. It really isn't a complete story as the others have been, just a sort of filling in the holes of our heroes before they met their destiny. It seems like an unhappy ending but what Draco doesn't realize and what we all surely know, is that he does indeed go to meet his destiny, but not in the way he envisioned. From here, we integrate into "Aftermath" and all the incarnations to follow. Happy reading!


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"A Simple Hogwarts Affair"

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