Disclaimer: I own pretty much nothing. JKR gave life to Draco Malfoy and for that I am thankful. For her epilogue, I am less thankful so it will be ignored herein.

The pub sits on the corner of a busy street, just steps from a number of financial institutions, law offices, and consulting firms.

All muggle of course.

Draco Malfoy is "slumming" in muggle London as has been his habit for more than two years.

He enters his favored haunt with his typical swagger: Long strides, one hand in his jean pocket, chin slightly tilted up, eyes narrowed and discerning. He is on the prowl.

Three years after the Wizarding War, most of that time spent brooding, soul searching, and a little guilty, his Mother had begun the pureblood tradition of pressuring her only child into finding a suitable match and taking his place as the head of the family.

Technically, he already is. Lucius Malfoy, his cold and detached Father, lost that title when sentenced to Azkaban after the war. Narcissa, Draco's doting if incredibly proper Mother, avoided the same fate. Her role in protecting Harry Potter during the final battle had done much to salvage not only her own position, but the family name in general.

Now the family company is his; also the Manor and other various properties, sizable vault at Gringott's bank, and all the power that comes with one of the oldest, most respected, and most feared names in the Wizarding world.

His birthright is impressive.

But all things pureblood, and indeed all things Malfoy, are calculated and traditional. All of these are his, but not to their full extent, not really. Not until he provides an heir for the family. As their only child, it is his absolute responsibility to continue the family name.

Draco strides across the room and sits in his usual place. The bar wraps around, leaving two stools that face the door. This is where he sits, in the corner, back to the wall, facing the door. It's a strategic habit. Always position yourself with an advantage. Every patron that walks in the door is in his unobstructed view. Unless of course the place is packed to the rafters, but that is rarely the case.

No, Draco's favorite hunting grounds are never "packed". They are well patronized, but also calm. The majority of the muggles here are successful (by muggle standards). This is the place financial advisors and lawyers meet with colleagues, everyone is apt to have "an important call, sorry, gotta take this", and most important, the women are spectacular. Career oriented, well groomed, and every bit as interested in a detached relationship as he is.

When the subject of marriage is broached in the Malfoy household, words like well-bred, elegant, and proper spill from his Mother's mouth. He is currently (though not very actively) courting a girl from the houses of both Greengrass and Parkinson. They know of each other and compete for him with poison laced smiles.

Draco is careful to give neither any inclination he leans their direction. They are both equally vapid, shallow, haughty, and artificial.

Daphne Greengrass is the more attractive of the two. Truthfully, she is a beautiful girl. But Draco doesn't dare tell her. Or touch her. The Greengrass family has been plotting with his own since before he could talk to join their families in an arranged union. If there is anything for which he is grateful in concern to his father, it is that the elder Malfoy deigned to leave the subject of marriage to Draco's own choosing. No doubt he further assumed he would indoctrinate his son enough to choose the most profitable and pure partnership, but regardless leaving Draco free of that particular oppression. The Greengrass family, however, was not deterred and have groomed their eldest to pursue him mercilessly.

Pansy Parkinson is far worse. Draco made the youthful mistake of showing interest in the girl while they still attended Hogwarts together. And then the unthinkable: He slept with her.

They were children really. It was nearly a decade ago now. It happened once and never again. That was before the war. During which time, Draco was far too…distracted to give her another thought. The stress of having one of the most powerful wizards of all time crashing in your spare wing, making demands of you under penalty of death, made issues like "Pansy is clinging" fall away from his mind.

He skirted her, and really the topic of an "acceptable match" until he turned twenty. His Mother started in at that time and began to intervene on his behalf. By twenty one, she had roped him into at least one date with no less than 15 pureblood witches. As vapid and hollow as Pansy and Daphne are, they were, to his dismay, the best of the lot. And he knew them from childhood so… there's that.

Now twenty three, Draco is grateful for every day that he manages to avoid making the choice. His Mother thinks he is terribly torn between two such pure and respectable families. Or at least that is what he has told her and he assumes she believes him. Maybe she doesn't but in any case she has given him his space for the last couple of years.

So what does he do with that space? Between cold and removed evenings spent "courting" the two aforementioned girls, he is here.

A leggy redhead walks through the door and scans the room briefly before making her way down the bar and sitting on a stool to Draco's right, before the bend of the corner so she leaves separation, but is nearly close enough to touch. She orders a "Crown and Coke". Draco has been frequenting muggle locations long enough to no longer be confused by their various concoctions. Muggles have a vast and delicious selection if they wish to imbibe. More vast than the wizarding world admittedly. And it took him a very long time to admit anything of the sort.

Draco throws back his remaining scotch (neat) and holds up a single digit, indicating to the bartender to bring another. A glass is placed before him then the bartender hands the dark, ice-filled, drink to the woman and she sighs into the rim as she takes a sip.

"Long day, hmm?" It's not an amazing opening line. Draco's tired, it's late, and a woman alone at this time of a week night is either interested… or she's really not. This should be a quick transaction.

"A bit long," she agrees with a small smile and blue eyes moving to meet his. "But this," she tips the glass in his direction, "makes it much better."

He smirks one corner of his mouth and gives a tiny nod in agreement. Solidarity. Yes, we think the same about liquor. We're practically old friends.

A nod can say a lot.

Their banter is light and simple. She asks him name. He makes one up. Telling muggles his name is Draco has met with anything from laughter to disbelief. Ironic that he has to lie about his name for women to think him genuine.

In the end, he takes her "home". Home meaning a little muggle flat he keeps for just such engagements. Posh enough to allude to success but simple and sparse since he only sleeps here on occasion. Afterward, she doesn't ask if he'll call. She knows better. Successful, career oriented woman who walked in late to a posh bar? She was the perfect mark. Or perhaps he had been her mark. Either way, the game is over and Draco, satisfied in a physical way, returns to the wizarding world for another week of business meetings, aloof conversations with his mother, and dates with Ms. Greengrass and Ms. Parkinson respectively.

Hollow is an apt word.

A/N I have been passionately devouring the plethora of dramione on this site and am happy to finally dig into one of my own. This will be a multi-chapter though I'm not sure how many. I have about 6 more chapters prepared and will update relatively quickly, but want to always remain ahead of my updates to allow for edits and changes. I can definitely see this going into 20 chapters or more if I keep the pace I'm seeing from the next few. I am anxious to read and thank you in advance for reviews.