Prologue
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June 4th 1991
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Malfoy Manor was a towering, ancient and magnificent looking thing—as if from a fairytale. Its walls and foundation were supremely aged, a result of the generations upon generations of Malfoys that had lived here there before these ones, who had walked on these floors, slept in these beds…
Truly, the mansion was nothing if not a palace, with its grand towers, lovingly embraced by the coiling ivy, snake-like, which crept just a little bit higher every year, like a child's growth marks penned on the jamb of a door. Elaborate friezes and gables accentuated the pure nobility of it all. It was no wonder juvenescent Darcie Malfoy always had felt something like a princess.
As far as status went, her family possessed both wealth and a pure-blood family line as far back as it would go—both of which made her mother and father something like nobles in the wizarding world. It was no wonder Darcie's favorite game to play was Queen of the Castle.
"You there!" she called out in her most prodigious-sounding voice as she righted the too-heavy, elaborately-jeweled tiara perched atop her silky blonde head. "Bring me some strawberries from the hold! And a Chocolate Frog!"
She heard Virginia Crabbe, who had been Darcie's best playmate since infancy, sighed plaintively from where she knelt in the dirt at the foot of Darcie's 'throne', which was fashioned from twigs and branches by the use of her father's magic. Virginia dragged her finger through the dusty mulch.
Darcie's impatience grew. "I said—"
"Can't we play something different?" Virginia griped, settling back on her heels.
Indignation flared through Darcie like a spike, heating her through from the roots of her long, pale hair to the tips of her fingernails. If Virginia wouldn't play nicely, Darcie would just send her home and call for Teddy Nott instead.
"If you don't wanna play my way, why don't you just go home?" The words came out of Darcie's mouth both high and shrill. It didn't matter that they played by the same rules, Darcie's rules, whether they were at her house or not. Her father had told her, once, that you only receive the respect you demanded. And Darcie demanded the very same respect from her friends that her mother and father got from their friends.
Before Virginia dared to challenge Darcie's expectations again, a distant voice echoed across the wide clearing to them. Narcissa Malfoy, Darcie's mother, was informing them that Mr. Crabbe had just arrived to take his daughter home.
Reluctantly, despite their recent squabble, the girls abandoned their game of make believe—Darcie hastily buried the ancient family heirloom and most treasured plaything in the bracken beneath her makeshift throne—and the girls broke from the grove and trees they'd been playing in and began to cross back toward Malfoy Manor.
Later, after Virginia had gone home with her father via side-along Apparition, Darcie's mother and father tucked her into bed.
"Did you have a nice time with your friend today, darling?" Narcissa inquired, smoothing Darcie's hair back from her brow and kissing her there.
"Mostly."
Narcissa laughed. "Try to get some sleep now," she suggested, "You'll need the energy for your big day tomorrow."
Darcie's heart leapt in her chest with excitement. "Do you think my letter will come first thing, Mother?" she wondered as Narcissa tucked the sheets more tightly around her daughter and drew back to allow space for Lucius.
"Patience, Darcie," he said as he kissed his daughter on the cheek and then met her gaze.
Darcie stared expectantly at her father, recognizing the expression on his face, the serious emotion in the silvery eyes that matched her own, knowing that tonight, on the eve of her eleventh birthday, her father was going to say something important.
She felt her father's hand come to rest over her own, atop the sheets. "I want you to understand something, Darcie," he said quietly, "I know I've told you this very thing before, but I'm going to tell you again, because you're older now, and I think you'll understand better now: You are a triply special girl, Darcie. First, because you are a witch. Second, because you are a pure-blood, and thirdly, because you are a member of this family, the Malfoys. In that precise order. Do you understand, my dear?"
"Yes, father," she whispered.
"And because you are so special… This gives you a certain obligation, a certain… Responsibility. Especially as you prepare to embark on your first year at Hogwarts. Do you understand that?"
"Yes, father."
"Good girl."
Something unexplainable always happened whenever Darcie heard her father utter those words. As if something very deep within her was attached to a thread, and this thread was pulled by these words, that unnamed something stretching, yearning toward the light.
Darcie's parents left the room and she rolled over in her canopy bed, toward the window. The curtains had been drawn nearly to a close, and through the remaining gap, Darcie could see the full and bright orb of the moon, silver and bright. She let her eyes grow heavy as she gazed upon it, letting it fill her vision, and then turned away, burrowing deeper beneath her brocade, emerald quilt.
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A/N: Harry Potter fanfiction? Um, yeah, I'm surprised too. For awhile now, I've been toying with, like, a full-on gender bend of the entire series from Harry/Harriet's POV, but then THIS idea struck, and I just couldn't let it go. I've been so interested in what things looked like from Draco's side of things, especially from OOTP onwards, but I'm lousy at writing from a boy's perspective. I'm just too flowery and stuff. So I've gender-swapped Draco/Darcie and most of her friends, but no one else. Annnd… This is what's happened. The first few chapters will summarize the first four years, and then we'll go into more detail after that… At least, that's the plan.
And for all of you here for a DD update—it's coming. Slowly, but it's coming.