Author's Note: I shouldn't write this. There is so many other things I should be working on, but I want to write this.
I feel so guilty.
Chapter One
On June 5th, 1980, a baby's squalls filled the crisp evening air. This child, this impossibility, looked perfectly normal. His head had a few strands of light, almost translucent, blonde hair. If his eyes, squeezed shut in aggravation, were to open, one could see the beautiful blue that was only present in the young and innocent.
It was hard to believe he could be anything but human.
Perhaps this was why Lucius Malfoy, a well-known pureblood supremacist, smiled in satisfaction upon holding his newborn child. Perhaps this was why his wife, Narcissa Malfoy, and part-veela (sealed as her heritage was), was smiling in relief upon seeing her-It's a boy! A boy a boy aboyaboy-son's delicate visage.
Perhaps this was why he was named Draco, the dragon. Draco Lucius Malfoy, after his father's name and his mother's traditions.
Perhaps...
Two Years Old
Draco was a curious child.
Not in the way that his actions were curious, requiring contemplation or in anyway mysterious. Rather, it the fact that his first and favorite word was 'why,' followed closely by 'how.'
'Mother' and 'Father' came later.
Now around two years old, Draco toddled shakily towards his mother, before tripping halfway there. Narcissa laughed, crossing the remaining distance to coo and praise her precious son.
"Maman," Draco called. "Why?"
"Why what, my Little Dragon?" Narcissa crooned. Normally a witch of her standing would leave raising the child in the early years to the house elves, so as not to soil herself with matronly work. Even so, Narcissa had always had a soft spot for children, her child in particular. Lucius was tolerant to her compassion, especially since the Dark Lord was defeated less than a year ago. With the war over, sentimentality was widespread.
"Why... big?" he said with hesitation. Sometimes he would do that, say his favorite word for no reason, and when asked to follow up, would randomly pair it up with another word. Narcissa didn't mind. All the more for him to learn!
"Maman is big so she can carry Draco," Narcissa answered, her arms enclosing his form only to lift him so that his feet were left dangling in the air.
A wide smile overtook her son's childish features. His eyes, which had since lightened to a pale grey the color of ash, lit up in happiness. "Ah! Aaah! Ahahaha!"
How Narcissa adored her son. She was so glad he had been born a boy, and not Veela.
Five Years Old
Draco was so confused. Why was Maman staring like that? Draco just wanted to show her the pretty wings on his back! They were as long as his arms, and the feathers were a nice shiny silver. Maman liked the color silver!
"D-draco-" she choked, her eyes glancing around frantically in fear-why was she so scared? Draco wasn't scary!- as she gathered him in her arms. "You didn't show anyone else your pretty wings, did you?"
"No, Maman," Draco answered obediently. See, he was a good boy! Why wasn't she praising him?
Her pale grayish-blue eyes, like chips of ice, finally focused back on him. She licked her lips nervously before speaking again. "Draco," she started shakily, "my Little Dragon. You have to do something really important for Maman, okay? You have to keep the p-pretty wings a secret."
"Why?" he demanded. Draco didn't like keeping secrets. If he kept secrets, people wouldn't praise him for things.
"Because the pretty wings are bad. If Draco doesn't keep the pretty wings a secret, he'll be a very bad boy," she scolded more firmly.
Draco's eyes widened in shock. Draco didn't want to be a bad boy!
"Can I... can I tell Father?" Draco whispered. Draco could tell Father anything. Father said so himself!
She laughed then, her eyes tight with painful sadness. "No. Especially not your father."
Six Years Old
Draco glanced around nervously, his hands fisted tightly in his mother's robes. He had never been outside the Manor before, but now he was in a big house (not as big as the Manor, though) with gaudy decorations. Gaudy, not expensive. Maman taught him the difference.
Maman smiled down at him warmly, before her expression evened out as a person came to greet them.
"Narcissa," the lady, with dark blonde hair and lightly tan skin, smiled coolly as she greeted them. Well... greeted Maman.
"Lady Greengrass," Maman smiled stiffly. It looked like it felt unpleasant to do. Draco tried doing it as well, but it hurt his cheeks.
The other lady chuckled smoothly. It sounded dark and velvety, but not as nice as Maman's laugh. "Please, do call me Rachelle. We are friends, after all."
"Indeed," Maman agreed. Pressed against her as he was, Draco could feel her knee flex restlessly.
"Well, let us join the others. I am so glad you decided to attend my Pumsavana Seemantham. I see you brought young Master Draco as well," she glanced at him dismissively. Draco decided he didn't like her.
"Of course," came the neutral reply.
They moved to another room deeper in the house. It had low lighting, and invisible musicians played violins in the background.
Maman wordlessly nudged him towards a group of children his age playing with dancing dolls. The little figurines would jerkily twirl themselves, even as chubby fingers knocked them down so that they had to pick themselves up before resuming.
Draco took the cue, subtly he might add, and joined them.
"Hi..." He whispered, but no one heard him. He cleared his throat before speaking again in the clear, aristocratic voice Father taught him. "Hello."
A girl with the same cool features as her mother flicked her gaze up to meet his. Beside her sat a smaller girl with similar features but dark, chestnut hair. "Hello."
The rest of the time was spent in relative silence as they played with a menagerie of magical toys to choose from. Draco was particularly fascinated by a small cube that fluttered within a flock of similar cubes on violet wings. The way they danced in the air so easily made him envious, to the point that his back flexed with suppressed longing of broomless flight. He wasn't allowed to fly on his wings, but sometimes he'd bring them out at night and flap them in his room.
Draco noticed something strange. The other boys kept glancing at him funny, and their faces would go all red whenever they met his eyes. One boy, with pale skin and ebony hair, stood up as if to approach him.
That was when Maman came back. She gazed at them and took in the situation with tightly pursed lips. Hastily muttering congratulations, Maman threw some powder in the fireplace and muttered a few words under her breath. They stepped into it and were spit out back at the Manor.
"Little Dragon," she said, sitting across from him once they were safely ensconced in his room. "I'm going to teach you something called Allure retraction."
Two months later, Draco overheard his parents talking about Lady Greengrass' 'miscarriage.' What's a miscarriage?
Draco couldn't remember when he first met Uncle Sevie. All he knew was that Sevie brought him cool books whenever he visited, and that he smelled like musty herbs and iron.
Draco liked Sevie. Draco liked Sevie even more than Father.
Did that make Draco a bad boy?
I don't think I'm ready to write something like this. There is this plot I have a vague idea of... How the fuck am I going to write that?
And, um, I don't know how to make this more clear, but Narcissa is a Veela. Her heritage was sealed, though, and Lucius has no idea about it. Also, if you couldn't tell, Draco's Veela charm only affects boys. So, there's that.