A Match Most Unlikely

Draco Malfoy woke with a start; he rolled over to look at the clock. It must be early, the sun’s just barely out. “Bollocks, it’s only 6.” Draco tried to shut his eyes and slip back into sleep, maybe it was the birds outside or the sun slowly creeping over his bed, but he just couldn’t manage it. He thought he might as well get up seeing as how he wasn’t going back to sleep any time soon. He walked over to his dressing table and gave himself a once-over in the mirror.

“Hrm... not bad, considering the lack of sleep,” he said to no one in particular. In fact, Draco was quite a handsome young man, he had flawless pale skin, bright white blonde hair and gray eyes that were on the verge of blue. Nearing twenty-eight years, Draco looked in the prime of life, he had an athletic physique with well defined muscles, and he happened to be quite strong.

Draco dressed himself in his usually black robes and walked down to the dining room. “Worrly! Where have you got to?” Worrly, a young house-elf, came running into view.

“Yes, Sir. Would you be wanting your breakfast?,” asked the house-elf, and before Draco could reply he asked, “eggs benedict with toast or would you be preferring some pancakes or French toast?”

“Eggs would be fine, sourdough toast please,” responded Draco. He watched the elf run out of view back toward the kitchen. Truth be told he had been very lucky to find a young house-elf out of work; Dobby, his family’s elf, had been lost to his service by Harry Potter back when they were both in their second year at Hogwarts. Worrly had been the third son of the Parkinson’s house-elf Nibbs, and the family offered to sell him to Draco.

Draco took his seat at the head of the table and picked up the newspaper and cup of coffee that had been set there by Worrly awaiting Draco’s presence. “Typical nonsense. Daily Prophet isn’t worth its cost as usual.” Draco put down the paper and having nothing else to do with himself, he took a look around his dining room. The room was fairly dark as there were no windows, and the lanterns glowed faintly. There were many painting on the walls that had been favorites of his ancestors in some past time. But what struck Draco the most was the silence of the Manor. Ever since his parents had died, (his father in Draco’s seventh year at Hogwarts and his mother shortly after) the house had seemed depressingly empty. This feeling was brought down harder now that Draco was edging close to his 30s and was still unmarried. The problem was that there didn’t seem to be any prospects. All of the pureblood witches were either ugly, snooty, or taken it seemed. The upside of his parents’ deaths was that now at least he could pick any woman he liked as he would not have to get their approval.

“Here you are Sir,” Worrly said as he rushed in with Draco’s breakfast.

“Thanks, Worrly.” Draco almost asked the elf how his family was but stopped himself just in time. What kind of state was he in that he almost tried to have a personal conversation with a house-elf? Still he had to admit that he did like the company of the silly elf. What am I coming to?

After finishing his meal Draco took a peek at his watch. “7:30. I best be getting to work.” Draco must have been the first Malfoy to actually go to work in about three generations; the problem was that the family was finally running out of money. Sure Draco could have lived his entire life off the remnants of the family fortune, but he preferred to add to the Gringotts bank account rather than just continue to deplete it. Besides, if he didn’t have to go to work, he didn’t know what he would do with himself. Draco had used his father’s old connections to secure himself a job with the Ministry of Magic. There were many wizards there that had not wanted him to work there (Harry, Hermione, and Ron to begin with), but seeing as how Lord Voldemort was definitely gone for good, there didn’t seem to be much harm that Draco could cause. Besides, he Draco had been cleared of all charges based upon his age and his word that he would renounce his “evil deeds”, which, honestly, weren’t much. He really had been too young and Voldemort hadn’t given him any responsibility within the Death Eaters yet.

So around 8, Draco set off to work leaving the depressingly uninhabited Malfoy Manor. Draco was the head of the Department of Transportation, which he found incredibly dull at most times. Only during large events such as the Quidditch World Cup did he ever truly feel over-worked. Draco had an outstanding capacity for work. He seemed to feel that he might as well be doing something with his life, seeing as how his social life was severely lacking. After the fall of the Dark Lord, Draco found himself with not a lot of good friends to have around. Draco wished to put the past behind him and try to reestablish the Malfoy family in the eyes of the Wizarding community. Thus, he ended his friendship with the stupid and foul Crabbe and Goyle. Also, after his parents passed away he ended his relationship with Pansy Parkinson; he had only been dating her on his father’s orders. Draco never really liked her and thought of her as a snob and not the least attractive. So, with his old gang gone because of their lingering attachments to the dead and gone old power, Draco was living a lonely life. The other wizards who had fought against Voldemort wanted nothing to do with Draco of course. This frustrated him more than anything. He had worked so long and hard (about 10 years now) at building a good reputation, but everyone seemed to think of him exactly as they viewed his deceased father Lucius.

The moment Draco stepped into his office he was swarmed with flying notes, and was soon too distracted to think of his misfortunes. This was why he liked his job, and also why he was so good at it. No one would ever tell him, but everyone he worked with knew that he was an excellent head of department. He handled everything with patience, ease, and a level head, that is everything but Ginny Weasley.