Societas Iuncta
An old magic has reared its head. The Deathly Hallows scattered. Those who have sinned must repent. Those who have fled must fight. An alliance must be made between wizard and muggle, men and brothers alike must unite for the safety of us all.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and places belong to J.K. Rowling and the incredible world she thought up on that delayed train on the London Underground. This piece of work has been written solely for entertainment purposes and shall not be used as a means to profits. Thank you.
A/N: I thought after all these long years I should write a harry potter Fanfiction. And here it is. I'm a lover of us muggles so there'll be a couple of them running about making a muck of things haha. I'm not a fan of Mary-sue's so no muggles shall suddenly be sprouting powers all over the place. Draco Malfoy will be the main character and I urge you to give this a chance for those of you who love Harry to death. So I ask you nicely, join me in exploring the character of Draco Malfoy, I promise you won't regret it. Draco is not married to Astoria Greengrass and the two never dated. Book & Movie verse. The title Societas Iuncta is Latin and translates into An Alliance.
Prologue
Dark clouds drifted across a dreary May skyline, their shapes and sizes lost in the shadows of the world while city lights were drowned out by a shining twilight moon. If looked at closely, one might see the shadow of a dragon, or the image of a laughing girl, but he wasn't paying attention to the clouds and the stars beyond it. No. He sat alone on a solitary park bench, the silvery light of the moon catching parts of his hair and setting his head alight with a halo from hell; the wind barely lifting his locks as though afraid to disturb the peace surrounding him. His eyes, normally an intense stormy grey were dull and distant, seeing all but taking in nothing at once. His slim fingers sat on his lap, intertwined, the tips worrying their counterparts as he thought with reluctance of incantations and potions, of cloaks and daggers; of witches and wizards and the almighty battle that had- he stopped his train of thought with a brutal mental tug, his hands disentangling to form angry fists.
He never went further than that- never went further than the first few screams of agony, fearing that if he did- if he let himself remember- it would be the death of him. Tonight however, was different- the date marked nine years since the battle-nine years of peace- nine years, coincidentally, since he had left. Leaving. He had a habit of it- running away when things became too tough, fleeing when he thought it may go badly or God forbid he may be hurt. Some may call it cowardice; he in himself called it the ultimate self interest.
At this moment he decided that his self interest was to get home. His back was stiff and his joints clicked painfully as he stood up, stretching before he started on the familiar route back to his London townhouse. Only the best for the pure-bloods- so great were they and ruled by ignorance that they fell from grace like angels out of heaven. Oh sure, he can criticise them now after so long away from them- can call on their faults as a teacher might to a misbehaving child; but when within a collective group one loses all thoughts and gains the collective want. It took him many years to figure that out.
Walking out of the small park and on to the main road, he sat at a vacant bus stop, aware of the object in his back pocket- the one never touched but always felt. A group of raucous teens streamed past him, barely registering his presence in their drunken vision. He watched them pass him until they were far out of sight and wondered if they knew. Knew what sacrifices had been made to ensure their safety so that they may waste their lives consuming large amounts of alcohol and inhaling toxic fumes. He wondered if they ever thought of his kind. Of the fabled stories passed from father to son, mother to daughter through generations of hearsay and broomsticks, magic wands and pointy hats.
His brooding was cut short by the arrival of his bus. Looking down to his Rolex clad wrist, perceiving the time to be 1:05am- it looked like he was catching the last bus.
He always seemed to catch the last bus.
The journey home was uneventful, save for a couple seeming to suck the life-force from one another, bodies connected in a jumble of pent up emotions and drug enhanced passion. He got off at his usual stop, giving a half hearted wave to the bus driver who seemed to take him home on most nights, before ascending the stone steps to his unnecessarily large house. Fitting the key in the lock he pushed slightly, the door opening smoothly and soundlessly, the light from the moon illuminating the marble floors and grand staircase- just because he had fled didn't mean he was to be denied the life he was so accustomed to. He closed the door behind him, feeling reassured by the click and thus as the lock slid home, shrugging off his jacket after a moments pause. He decided against turning the lights on, preferring instead to move by the moonlight streaming in through the two identically large windows on either side of the thick oak wood front door. Hanging up his jacket on the wrought iron wrack, he hummed a familiar tune taking note of the slightly smaller coat next to his on the rack and the sleek hot pink heels thrown haphazardly on the floor as if the person was in a hurry- he smiled to himself, she was always tired when she came home.
As was he. Tired- so very, very tired, his shoulders slumping forward as he turned to climb the grand staircase, shadows greeting him like old friends. Reaching the top of the first floor he turned right and counted the doors down the corridor until he came to the last one, pausing slightly before opening it quietly and tiptoeing inside. He stepped out of his trousers delicately, careful as to not dislodge the object in his back pocket, draping the item of clothing over the back of a plush armchair. With that done he moved to an elaborate chest of drawers, sifting through it silently until he found what he wanted. With the object in hand, he slipped on the pair of baggy pyjama bottoms and pulled his shirt off, causing his head to become a disarray of disoriented hair glinting in places as the deep green curtains let in slices of moonlight. Rolling his shoulders he stood still for a moment, eyes closed, basking in the darkness and the cocoon of thoughts and emotions that ebbed and swirled through him in energetic reels.
There was a rustle of silk sheets sliding against one another and then, "Babe?"
His eyes snapped open at the sleep laden voice, so quiet and soothing that he used to find it excruciatingly hard to make out her words. His mouth broke into a small smile and his eyes shifted into the calm after the storm as he made his way to the bed where the figure of a girl was tangled up in a mixture of bed sheets and clothing, her hair tousled and sticking up on end as she rubbed her eyes sleepily. Reaching the bed he leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead before crawling around her to his side of the bed, she turned with him, a dream-like smile on her face, her normally bright green eyes dulled by the lull of slumber.
"You smell like outside," was all she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she lifted a small hand to touch his cheek, keeping it there as he leaned his head into her soft palm. After a moment he shifted to lie down, and she with him, lying on her side so that her head rested upon his chest, her nimble fingers tracing lines onto his pale bare stomach. They lay in silence for a while; him lost in his thoughts- her fighting sleep. Eventually though, her hands slowed and her breathing evened out as she gave up her struggle. "G'night Alex," she murmured tiredly, her hand lying still, ceasing its random movements as she fell asleep.
He had a pained expression on his angular face, even as he leaned down and placed another sweet kiss on the top of her head, one desperate thought running through his head. Guilt wept through his heart and his stomach twisted as his breathing became ragged.
Draco, came the sickening thoughts, my name is Draco.