Drarry One Shots

Shape of my Heart

A/N Inspired by a mix of James Bond/Casino Royale plus a song by Sting, 'Shape of my Heart'.

Unspecified time frame but at least four years after the war, maybe more.

Approximate conversions:
5 galleons = £25
100 galleons = £500
1000 galleons = £5000
20,000 galleons = £100,000
200,000 galleons = £1m

Blind Wizard's Bluff is based on Texas Hold'em Poker plus a little bit of Divination thrown in! N.B. to 'burn' a card is to discard it, the rest shouldn't need defining for the story.

Draco stood at the indent in the large oval table and dealt the hand clockwise with apparent detachment, pushing the cards across the green baize towards each of the remaining seven players. Three had already left the table permanently. He waited momentarily for the players to check their cards. Careful not to make prolonged eye-contact with any of them, though he watched judiciously. It was, after all, why they'd asked him to be House Dealer on this high-profile game of Blind Wizard's Bluff. Tonight, the invite to play at this particular table was closed. The stakes were high. And the chances that someone would attempt to cheat were higher than normal.

The pot from tonight's high-stake game amounted to 200,000 galleons, all in. 20,000 transferred to a private holding account up front by each of the players. Draco's mouth dried at the size of what was at stake but it wasn't his place to think of how wealth like that had once lined his father's pockets. No more...

Immediately after the war, Draco found himself on parole in a dismal holding bedsit provided by the Ministry until he could find his own feet. Located just off Horizont Alley, it had paper-thin walls, peeling paint, a sagging, lumpy sofa-bed, and the smallest kitchenette where he taught himself to cook the basics. His father was in Azkaban and his mother in France, leaving him alone and floundering. In those early days, he struggled to make ends meet and he didn't really know how to cope; the Ministry had stripped away his money and the Manor and then they'd left him with a restricted wand that was no doubt monitored. But he certainly wasn't one to mope around in a soup despite his family name being irreparably smeared, his look too distinctive, his past too public for anywhere to employ him. Of course, the seedier end of the Wizarding World welcomed him with open arms into their folds. It wasn't what he wanted but there was little choice if he wanted to eat.

But Draco refused to let his Malfoy pride stop him from starting afresh and from beginning at the bottom of the pile. Though he did set boundaries. There were somethings he would rather not do; like selling his body, and he'd definitely rather starve than borrow money with an alarming interest rate from the loan sharks. And he kept his own activities clean, he refused to partake in anything illegal. It was a steep learning curve but he was determined to rise out of his current predicament. And Draco was nothing if not determined and good at using his cunning and initiative. And a charm that was nurtured into him by his mother, not that he'd switched it on at school beyond a few he deemed were worthy of the effort. Now, he depended on it.

Between his fortnightly meetings with his parole officer, he had washed glasses at a dingy strip-club on Knocuous Snicket in the labyrinth of gullies off Knockturn. It was easy to sneer how far he'd fallen; an acquitted Malfoy in his expensive black suit mopping up after petty-criminals who had more money than him, but he didn't view it like that. One thing his father had taught him was how to pick out the important people to befriend and how to insinuate yourself into their lives so you became indispensable. It was a challenge of the magnitude that only a Malfoy could engage in when it came to restoring his name and reputation.