It had been six years since the war had ended.

It had been six long, tough years for Draco Malfoy; he was no longer the rigid, heartless boy he'd once been.

When the war ended Draco had sat in his dark room for nearly six months, not knowing what to do with his life now; there was barely any of his family's money left, his father was in jail and his mother on the edge of a mental breakdown.

It was by sheer luck that Draco noticed in the paper that St Mungo's were advertising for a potions maker and that was the exact subject Draco had mastered.

The young Malfoy supplied the hospital with several bottles daily of perfectly made potions in return for a good price; bringing home his first lot of coins he felt a warm feeling inside, he was proud of himself.

Even if his mother was not.

After several months one of the nurses joked that Draco should think about becoming a Healer, after watching him help a little boy drink his potion.

The thought kept Draco up at night, he didn't mention it to his mother and began the process; most of it was paperwork, some of it was potions and wand work, but a big section of the training was how to deal with patients.

Draco felt daunted at first, he'd never been very good with people but the war had changed him, he felt different about everything, so he put on his best smile and talked kindly.

It took less than a year and Draco was a fully trained Healer.

Narcissa had not taken the news well; she locked herself in a room, broke several things, shouted for half an hour before coming out with a stained face.

"why Draco?" she wailed, "why lower yourself."

Draco frowned, "lower myself to what mother? Lower than this?" he gestured to the derelict mansion around them; the peeling wallpaper, broken windows, not a single other lifeform than themselves.

As proud as Draco was of himself, and his mother was sometimes when her mood was right, patients and other Healers were cautious.

Everyday was an upward struggle for Healer Draco, he was given all the awkward jobs, worked for long hours everyday and having to deal with awful old patients who hated him simply because he was a Malfoy.

Draco persisted and even though he was tired and not paid very well, for the first time in his life he felt good about himself.

Unfortunately Harry Potter had to ruin it.