Life After The Fall of The Dark Lord

Luscious: Life After The Fall of The Dark Lord

It was a cold, dreary day in the village of Hogsmeade when Draco Malfoy walked into the old pub. Nothing had been the same since the destruction of the Dark Lord Voldemort. The aftermath was like a shockwave of peace and love and joy-- all of which reminded Draco of a painful reminiscence. All of which he had been avoiding ever since.

His life was turned upside down when Voldemort came to the Malfoy house, the very safehaven in which Draco sought refuge from all the masses, to collect his father's overdue debts. No one was home that day, except for Draco's mother. And so the monster scum took her. Narcissa Malfoy was never to be seen again.

Draco cringed at the memories. It happened so long ago, yet the images were so fresh in his mind that it seemed like just yesterday. Their last Christmas together. The mismatched bed coverings. The patchwork curtains and the unfinished quilt. His mother's furious yet failed attempts at baking, just to prove that she could actually cook. The empty house. The absence of the stench of burning cookies in the oven. The closets full of ball gowns she never got to wear. The missing person to reprimand him whenever he left his dirty socks by the front door, or whenever he stood up too late at night, watching reruns of "What's My Line?" on the Game Show channel. The colossal telephone bills addressed to a Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy, who was long gone... but not forgotten.

He didn't know whether or not Potter did him a service by disposing of Voldemort. He only knew that he would never become what his father was. But he would always remember, for he shared with Potter a mark that evoked nothing but pain.

Draco Malfoy sat down at one of the tables in the pub, hoping to keep a low profile. He sat down and put his head in his hands. No, he thought. He wouldn't shed another tear. Not for the loss of his mother. Not for his father's madness. Not for what he was about to witness on account of the aching of his battered heart.

He lifted the long sleeve from his left arm. There was the Dark Mark emblazoned in his skin. No, not the full mark, for he had run away before Voldemort could finish with him. He had been too terrified of actually committing to being a full-fledged Death Eater, because he loved a girl. A girl who was bound to the Doctrine of Good. A girl who, despite of his immense love for her, he abandoned for the dark side, because he'd foolishly thought that evil would triumph this time.

"Oh, Hermione," he sobbed. "We were something to be marvelled at..."

Suddenly, the dim lights in the pub grew even dimmer still, and a single spotlight shone on the red velvet curtains on the stage. The curtains parted, revealing a seemingly voluptuous bleach-blonde woman, clad in a glittering pink gown reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe. The woman was introduced simply as "Luscious".

After Luscious performed her song and dance (to which Draco was not at all attentive), she received a warm wave of hoots and hollers from her few onlookers. She curtsied and bowed and proceeded to waddle over to Draco's table, where he sat miserably by himself.

"May I sit?" she asked him politely, her voice becoming slightly coarse.

"Go ahead," Draco replied.

Luscious gave him a concerned look before sitting down beside him. "You seem upset," she said, folding her hands in front of her. "What's bothering you, love?"

Draco glared at her. "This whole thing is bothering me," he snapped.

Luscious stared at him blankly. She flipped her long hair over her shoulders (Cher style) and daintily lit a cigarette.

"You have to quit this drag queen business, Father! My friends are beginning to think you're hot!"