Regaining Royalty

He sat, running his fingers through his slick blonde hair, it was getting longer by the day, and soon it would be as long as his father's. Father, he hadn't mentioned that word in almost a month; he hadn't even dared think it. He had always admired him, looked up to him, adored him; what was there to admire now? A fallen death eater; incarcerated in Azkaban for the rest of his life. It wasn't as if he would be a free man ever again, his 'father' would not be present at his graduation, his first day at work, his wedding. Not that his wife would ever be good enough to impress the infamous Lucius Malfoy. She would either; not be rich enough, not be smart enough, or not have a respectful family that Lucius would approve of. There was no chance of him ever finding a woman worthy to clean Lucius's boots, let alone marry his son and heir.

Son, that meant nothing anymore. He wasn't a son anymore; he was an orphan, and heir to what? Everything was taken away when Lucius was. The fabulous mansion sold, their heirlooms sold to the highest bidder, and crate after crate of his father's belongings burned in their front garden, the smoke rising in spectacular colours as different potions, poisons, and dark objects were engulfed in the licking red and orange flames.

His mother refused to mention Lucius, which wasn't surprising to the seventeen year old. Why should she mention him? She didn't love him. In a way, this was setting her free, letting her live her life. Draco always knew his mother was a trophy wife, seen by his father of being of no more use than an attachment to his arm on special occasions, so why would she care that her son's father was locked away in the worst wizard prison known? She would now be able to roam in her own circle of friends, not his, and she would be able to let her son know she disapproved of Lucius's path without fearing the wrath of one of the most infamous Death Eaters to walk the earth.

The sleazy flat his mother had rented smelled strongly of car hair and cheap perfume, something his mother had been trying to extinguish for over a week with no success. Of course, his mother had chosen a small muggle village for them to live in, something Draco loathed beyond the loss of money, house, and stature. He despised it even more than the musty two-bedroom apartment they were struggling to pay for. His mother, his upper class mother; working as a muggle barmaid to pay for food and rent. This was not his life, this life had to belong to someone else, anyone else. If only his father could see him now.

Streetlamps flickered on as the sun hid its glowing face behind the rooftops, the amber glow bathing the emptying streets. Draco looked at the digital alarm clock his mother had bought when they moved in, nine thirty. It was an hour and a half until closing, and even then, closing up would be another hour, all in all, it would be three hours until his mother returned to the flat, dirty and tired, she would walk through the door trying to look as superior as was possible in a black cotton shirt and trousers covered in spilt beer. She would smile softly to him, throwing her tips for the night onto the table next to the door before disappearing into the bathroom to get showered and changed before falling into her dingy single bed. Draco would then get up from the sofa, slouch into his room and fall into bed, only to wake up seven hours later to work an eight hour shift at the café on the corner. The routine was boring and petty according to Draco. He was not one for slave labour, he was not one for any type of labour come to think of it; and neither was his mother, but they had no choice. They would have to live by this routine until something came along, something that could maybe change their luck enough to pull them back out of the gutter to where they belonged, back on their podiums, where everyone looked up to and admired them, and if they didn't do that, they at least envied them. No one worth knowing envied you when you lived in a two-bedroom muggle apartment and worked as a waiter at a café.

No, this wasn't his life. This wasn't the life of Draco Lucius Malfoy, this was the life of someone who had stolen his body, but they had not yet stolen his mind, and he would regain his life.