Adaptation

Draco Malfoy awoke with a start. Disoriented, he shifted on the hard mattress and reached for the source of the repetitive loud beeping noise that was responsible for rudely ending his night's rest. He pressed a button on the Muggle contraption and the beeping ceased. The glaring red display read 6:00am. Cursing under his breath, he sat up stiffly and steadied himself by placing his left hand on the bedside table.

It was still dark in the room. It was his room but he never called it that. He didn't like to acknowledge ownership of it. He didn't want to instil a sense of permanency in his current lifestyle. To him the current situation was best considered as an unwanted long holiday, perhaps.

Escape would have been an interesting word to use. Maybe it did fit the situation. The defeat of the Dark Lord had afforded him a new chance...he was liberated from the destiny that had previously cursed him, tormented him. He had been forced into a soul-wrenching journey. He knew he could not have killed Dumbledore. He knew he had made choices out of fear rather than rational thought. Ultimately he knew he was a good person who let himself be led astray but was now finding his way back.

After his father Lucius was taken into custody by Aurors, Draco had felt the urge to runaway from it all. From the excruciating pain of it all. His parents had told him to go into hiding until things calmed down- that is, until the wizarding world adjusted to the fall of the Dark Lord. There were still a few Death Eaters out on the loose and they could be looking for him, wanting to kill him for disloyalty and/or blaming him somehow for Harry Potter's victory. Narcissa herself was in hiding. After all, hadn't she been the one who declared to the inner circle that fateful night that Harry Potter was dead?

Draco did not want to think about the past. Nor did he want to think about the likelihood that dark wizards may or may not be after him. Some days he was catatonic. Some days he could not take in the enormity of it all and he would just sit on his new bed staring at nothing. He would be numb with pain, as if the wounds inflicted by his guilt and by the war had burnt away his nerve endings. Most of the time he did not speak to other people except when necessary.

A dark maturity had been thrust upon Draco. He did not know what to believe sometimes, but he knew he was glad the Dark Lord had been defeated. He only wished he could claim that he had been on Harry Potter's side all along. Harry had saved his life during the battle. Twice. Whether he deserved to be saved or not, Draco knew he could not let the gesture go to waste. If his life had been worth sparing, he had to make a new start.

He had not finished the remainder of his seventh school year. He couldn't have. It was simple as that. Narcissa arranged for an old acquaintance to help Draco go into hiding for the time being. The 'old acquaintance' turned out to be a pure blood wizard named Onyxius- a former fugitive who lived in the Muggle world when on the run and had chosen not to return to the wizarding world. His Muggle alias was 'Tony'. He now ran an antiques and artefacts shop in outer London. Draco suspected that there was more to Onyxius' story but for the moment those secrets had not been revealed to the young wizard.

Draco got up and fumbled around in the darkness. Had he had his wand a simple 'Lumos' would've been sufficient, but Harry had not returned the wand and Draco did not expect him to. It was not as if he could stroll into Diagon Alley and get a new wand from Ollivander's...Mr Ollivander would never want to set eye on a Malfoy ever again, that was for sure.

His hand reached out and found the wall. He searched for what Muggles termed to be a 'light switch'. He switched the light on and the room became illuminated in a pale yellow glow. Onyxius had been teaching him the basics of Muggle life. At first he had been extremely reluctant to learn anything associated with the world his upbringing had taught him to consider inferior. But things had changed and Draco knew he could not survive on total ignorance in a foreign world.

'I need to get a wand,' Draco muttered.

Onyxius often leant him his wand for days on end, knowing the young wizard was at risk of being miserable without some magic. Draco appreciated this but the wand obviously did not work as well as his own would have. He needed a new one.

He did not like the unfamiliarity of the Muggle world, did not appreciate how he felt like an outsider. He had retained a sense that he was superior by the plain fact that he was a wizard...yet each day this fact comforted him less and less. He felt stupid at not understanding what simple objects were called or how they functioned. He had asked point blank how Onyxius had learnt and gotten used to Muggle ways, but Onyxius had chosen not to answer. Not only that but the privileged lifestyle he had enjoyed in the wizarding world had now been suspended. The Malfoy bank accounts had been seized as part of the Ministry of Magic's investigations. So had Malfoy Manor. Draco now had to live in modest surroundings and wear ordinary day clothes purchased for him by Onyxius.

Draco looked around the room. You could not tell he was wizard by looking at the room. All his wizarding possessions were in the closet or under the bed. An uncluttered desk and chair stood in one corner, a bookshelf full of Muggle titles stood underneath the window, and a burgundy rug lay on the floorboards.

Draco had always been so proud of being a pure-blood wizard. But this pride had been tempered by the events of the last two years. It had been five months since the Dark Lord fell. A small part of him, a very small part, wondered whether he wanted a break from magic, its beauty and its horrors.

He did not have to join Onyxius for breakfast until 7am, and after that he would be required to help him in the shop downstairs for several hours. For his work he earned his room and board, and was also given a small allowance. He had not spent any of the money yet. He kept the notes and coins on the bedside table next to the electronic alarm clock.

Cursing under his breath again, he wondered how he could have accidentally set the alarm clock too early. Knowing he would not be able to get back to sleep, he reached under his bed for a Muggle guide book. He reassured his mind that the book was not a Muggle Studies textbook like the ones prescribed at Hogwarts. Rather it was like a travel guide for wizards who didn't want to make the blatant mistakes that some wizards made whilst being in the Muggle world. There were simplified explanations for the most rudimentary of things. Draco studied the page on 'electricity and electrical appliances' , watching the moving diagram in the book.

Still doesn't make much sense, Draco thought. Stupid Muggle ways. Magic is far superior.

Tossing the book aside he reached under his bed again and found a week old copy of The Daily Prophet to reread. Some of the articles disturbed him somewhat, giving him pangs of homesickness or guilt. He tossed the paper aside as well. Bored, he decided to go to the bathroom.

As he washed his face, he again noticed that the battles of recent times had made him weary and he wore this weariness on his face. His blond hair and grey eyes looked less radiant than they used to. His pointed features had aged slightly. He was constantly in a state of mental conflict, anguish and relief mixing uncomfortably.

'You won't be here forever,' he told his reflection. 'Things should be looking up, right?'

For a brief moment, Draco thought the mirror would answer him. But it was not a magical mirror. Draco looked at his reflection for another few seconds before deciding to head to the kitchen. Maybe if he was bored enough he might turn on the 'television' box and watch the moving pictures for awhile.

The kitchen was relatively small. A flick of the light switch revealed the pale orange countertops and cream linoleum floor. Muggle appliances hummed quietly in the background.

Draco opened the curtains; the sun was rising. He stared out the window, viewing nothing of interest on the street below. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a white bird.

It flew closer and closer. Soon Draco realized it was an owl and it was heading in his direction. Draco grabbed the latch and opened the window, allowing the unknown owl to perch on the ledge. A piece of parchment was tied to its leg. Draco nimbly took the parchment and unfurled it.

It could not have been correspondence from Narcissa. He knew it was too dangerous for her to send a letter with an owl. And Lucius obviously was in guarded custody.

The letter read:

Malfoy

There is news you should know about. Should you wish to hear this news meet me at the HMV music store (150 Oxford Street London) at 1pm today.

Regards

H.P.

The owl flew away into the dawn sky. Draco watched it till it could no longer be seen.

Draco had told Harry that he would be residing in London for the time being. Harry had not understood why Draco had found it so important to tell him this. Draco had explained that he was indebted to Harry for saving his life and should there be an opportunity to repay this debt, Harry should contact him immediately. Yet the letter did not allude to a favour. It appeared that Harry knew something that he didn't. They were not on the best terms but a civility existed because Harry seemed to realize Draco had suffered just as much as other people had in the battle.

Scowling at the prospect of venturing into town but aware that he must find out what Harry had to say, Draco shut the window and wondered how he would find this 'music store' without getting lost.

Easy for you, Scarhead, he thought bitterly. You grew up with Muggles.