putorius | Afraid to lose control and caught up in this world

The end of the second wizarding war brought a lot of changes to their world. Governmental, social, structural, economical. For the Malfoys, it meant all of the above. Lucius involvement was too extreme to be pardoned, even as he repented and named names. His assets in Gringots were seized as repayment and he was imprisoned. Narcissa had it easier, thanks to the testimony of one Harry Potter that she openly defied the dark lord on multiple occasions and was coerced by her husband. She received house arrest and probation. But that left Draco. Though an adult now, he'd been forced into the order as a minor, was forgiven his crimes since he had never used the killing curse and Potter spoke on his behalf.

Time passed and he tried to get by with his mother. They'd been able to keep their manor and some things within it. But without their fortune, they were slowly selling off what they could. Growing more and more desperate, Draco was trying to tap into some old connections, but their name was too tainted.

Winter passed into spring, and they were coming up on a year since it all ended. He was staring down the prospect of needing to find actual employment, since he was now eighteen, when an owl arrived. A rather severe looking creature. I didn't just contain a letter, but a single, one-way airline ticket to America. The letter was terse, not containing many details. Just that one Mr. Percival Graves was aware of his situation and he was expected in New York on a set date. He had to ask his mother to help him recall if he even knew a Graves. She was over joyed. Such an illustrious wizard from America. An old contact of his father's, whom Draco had met before. At a dinner. She was sure of it. He was hesitant to leave her alone, especially for an unknown time, but she insisted.

So he went. Packed a truck of what personal items he'd held on to, including his best clothes, and headed for the London airport. He didn't question why a more wizard focused transport hadn't been arranged. He was just quietly a mix of confused, grateful, and a little bit worried. He swore he'd recall meeting this Graves if it was recently. Reservations aside, he was swept across the ocean, and after an exhausting journey, found himself standing in the man's foyer. Heart pounding in his chest, he tried to remain composed. He wore his best, most crisp dark suit, his chin held high. He hoped Mr. Graves wouldn't keep him waiting long, the questions were starting to scratch at him in ways he didn't quite enjoy.