Author's Notes:
24.05.2011
It's been years! I am slowly getting into the rhythm of writing again. I have unfortunately – lost the original write-ups for the companion hence I am starting afresh. Most of it had been in my old, ancient computer (since the time of Transcendence), and which had stopped working. x.x Please excuse the grammatical errors – if there be betas willing to proof-read, it's greatly appreciated.
Oh ... and one of my predictions came true. x.x (You may refer to the first chappie of UL)
Well, whatever the case is, this fanfic is certainly not in the 'canon' category. :p Just enjoy ... well ... I'm hoping you will find the writing and storyline enjoyable. To give you the heads-up, this fanfic is a companion to UL, where it will focus mainly on Draco and his pur'potedly love interest, and I am hoping that some action plot bunnies will pop up along the way. I'm crossing my fingers that I won't go on a hiatus again... x.x ... Starting on the next chapter.
Title: Unpredictable Life 2
Author: Firesword
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters belong to their rightful owner, JK Rowling. I just own the amount of time spent to write and think about it.
Beta read by: None yet
Genre: Romance, Action & Adventure, Fantasy & Slash
Summary: A Post-OotP fic. Draco Malfoy's world was far from a peaceful one his parents had tried to give him. With his father now locked away in prison, what will become of him when his mother leaves his side and leaves him with a family of a current Slytherin, an ex-Ravenclaw and an ex-Gryffindor? Will it be enough to keep him out of harm's way?
Timeline: Summer of 1996
Plot: Maybe there is a plot? Lol I dunno ... let's see where the writing takes me.
Pairings: Soon ... Draco Malfoy and Alhena Moon, and the inevitable other pairings of UL ^_^
Warnings:Don't say I had not warned you, but the fic will contain homosexual love, and storylines/world are way off 'canon of course'.
~ Unpredictable Life 2~
Chapter 1 : Decisions
She stared at the bowl of water anxiously. It had been almost thirty minutes since she had sent the message. She tried again and using the twig from a holly tree, she wrote: For my son's sake.
It's taken you this long to see sense.
Narcissa grabbed the edge of the table and peered into the bowl again as the words misted over.
We cannot offer you or your son shelter. It is too risky.
Before she could feel disappointment, the words swirled, and the sentences came and went more fluidly.
There is one who will be able to give your son a safe home before he goes back to school. He has a daughter – she is your son's housemate in fact. He and his family will be able to help keep everyone on a low profile – but may not be able to once the children are back at school. Remember, that you owe them, for they are risking their own lives to shelter your son.
There was a long pause before more messages showed.
You will need to meet with your son again on the fourteenth – you know which month, and you know what you have to do. The lesser contact that you have with each other, the more difficult it is for you to be tracked down. And what you do not know, you cannot reveal. Go to The Square. He will be there to receive your son.
If you need to communicate with me, use this method or any kind that will not involve your wand. Remember, the magic of old.
And you not need to fear. We may not have a strong family bond, but we still have a bond together.
As mothers.
Her head hurt. Her heart hurt. Nonetheless, she was happy, having found a way to get her son out of immediate danger. Her legs carried her forward, and back again. Without stopping her movements, she turned her face toward the window and watched as the sunlight pierce through the branches of oaks that lined the property. It was mid-morning but for some reason, the air still felt chilly. Her mind whirled with so many thoughts – she was worried – would it be enough to protect her son? Then she sensed him coming near the study and paused. The sounds of footsteps slowed and became hesitant. It was a long while before her son appeared at the doorway.
"Mother?" Somber gray eyes looked steadily at her.
She looked at her son, just simply taking in his face, his eyes, and his expressions. The more she looked at him, the more determined she felt about taking action. He is my son. My son. She took a deep breath. "Pack your things," she instructed in a quiet voice.
Pale blonde eyebrows furrowed into a frown. "Mother, what do you mean?"
"Pack your things, Draco," she repeated again, her blue eyes unblinking.
"But ... why? What about you? And Father?" Her son asked, clearly unhappy.
"There are some things your father and I need to take care of, Draco," she said, and sat down. She sighed, pressing her temple gently with her fingers, wishing that her headache would just go away.
"But ... the Death-"
"Forget about that nonsense your schoolmates had been talking about, Draco!" Narcissa cut off abruptly. Draco simply looked at her, stunned. "Sit. We are going to talk."
"Did you really believe your father was ecstatic when he returned?" She felt it as she said those words – that bitter, seething anger. "Did you think your father and I would have been married and had you, if that was ever a possibility? No matter." She sighed and closed her eyes, willing herself not to shed any tears for that was simply a waste of energy. "We have failed as parents, to give you protection." Narcissa looked up and met Draco's eyes again. "His hold on your father is too great."
"But not you?"
"No, Draco. Not me." She stood up and walked over to Draco, and reached out to cup his face. "From the very moment you were brought into creation ... in my womb, Draco, I have no fear for him to rule my soul or my heart. Precious, it will not be long until he comes for me, forcing his will against mine. He is a great manipulator – he will seek ways to initiate you – even by force or coercion. But I cannot let it happen to you, Draco. Lucius and I ... we were young and we had made grave mistakes ... it is too late for us to rectify it ... but it will never be too late for you," she said fiercely. "I need you to listen to me – I am not going to coerce or enforce Magick on this ... Your father and I ... we love you so much. Give us your word, no matter what, you will never – never! Never succumb to his offers in the pretense to spare those whom you care for."
"Then am I supposed to do nothing if something happens to you ... or Father?" Draco asked stiffly.
"Oh precious..." Narcissa could not help the tears that formed in her eyes. "He is not easy to contend with, Draco..."
"But Pott-"
"You and he are two different persons with different personalities!"
"Am I supposed to be a coward then?" Draco pushed her away, his voice and expression hurt as he rose to his feet.
"Draco, Draco ... listen. Listen!" Even as she tried to calm her son down, she felt her heart race with anxiety. "I need you to be somewhere safer ... a Slytherin, alone, will never get far ... you need to be in a strong pack and then, only then, can you achieve a great task. But you have to be resilient, Draco, for he will try to shift the balance of your mind, spirit and your heart."
"Mother ... do you know what you are saying? Do you have any idea what you are doing to me? After all these years! It feels like you have been lying to me!"
"We had to!" Narcissa snapped. "It was the only way to prevent you from being singled out by the other families who have ties with him! Don't you ever believe that your father and I married to have you – to provide him with the next generation of followers! Lucius and I have never wanted that!" She stopped herself and turned away, forcing her eyes to stare at the trees from beyond the window. "Pack your things, Draco. I need to get you away from here," Narcissa spoke in a calmer voice. She took a deep breath. "When you are older, son, you will understand. There is much of this world you will need to see for yourself. Now – go and pack your things – do not take any of your father's trinkets mind you ... and hurry ... we do not have much time."
He heeded his mother's words, and set himself to the task of packing his belongings. His books, winter and summer clothes were stacked into the trunk in neat rows. A soft hurring noise broke his attention and he smiled slightly at his eagle-owl that was looking at him with impossibly wide eyes. "Patience, Dusk. Patience," he said softly and returned to his task. His owl made a sound of discontent and ruffled his feathers before settling back into a watchful pose.
"Draco," his mother called and entered the room. Draco folded his robe and stuffed it into the trunk before lifting his face to look at her. "Get rid of those clothes and put these on. I will change too."
His mother hurriedly dumped a dark brown shirt, a pair of jeans and a cloak into his arms. He stared after her nonplussed, though the hair on his arms stood on ends at the obvious Muggle shook his head and set the clothes down on his table. His first priority right now was to pack his belongings and several minutes later, he had already packed the last item – a new pair of boots – into his trunk.
He guided the lid down and hear the latch catch into place. He would need to wait for his mother to charm the trunk. Narcissa had warned him not to use any magic for any purpose whatsoever. He sighed and wished he was of age. I don't think I'm able to get a shower first. He let out another soft sigh and looked at the pile of clothes on his desk with a dubious expression. Still, he carried out his mother's instruction and began to strip, though he did not much care for the idea of wearing a short-sleeved shirt. He grimaced as he started pulling the jeans up his calves and up. The feeling of wearing Muggle jeans was something he wished he would never have to experience again. For now, he just had to put up with it, until he finds out what his mother had planned for him. The pair of jeans fit him nicely, and he had to admit, albeit a little grudgingly, that it was at least comfortable.
He looked at himself through a mirror, and shuddered. What can she be thinking? He thought, feeling appalled. Brown does not suit me and my hair stands out. It was especially true, as his hair color was a huge contrast to the dark brown of his shirt. What's that odd smell? He sniffed and frowned. Then he heard his mother cough and a few seconds later, she came, still coughing, one hand fanning at her face and the other holding a can of something. Draco gave his mother an inquiring look, and a raised eyebrow at her outfit and her black hair.
"Sit," she said firmly, pointing her stubborn chin on his chair.
Draco felt her point her wand at him and muttered a spell that he could not quite catch, but was able to feel – like a silky cobweb draping over his face, his ears, neck and the rest of his body.
"Close your eyes," his mother said and shook the can in her hand vigorously.
He did and his mother started spraying, not at his face, but his hair. He felt her combing his hair with her fingers, pushing the strands this way and that. It seemed like it went on and on until he finally heard his mother telling him that he could open his eyes.
"Finite."
He scrunched up his nose at the pungent smell of the hair spray and walked over to the mirror to inspect himself. Before he could say anything, his mother muttered, "Not enough... accio...." Draco turned around and frowned at the tiny bottle of eyeliner. "Come, Draco."
He suppressed another sigh as he walked up to her. He stood very still as his mother applied the eyeliner on the lids of his eyes.
"There ... that's much better." She stared at him critically. Then, tilting her head to one side, she asked, "Are you ready?"
"What are we going to do, Mother?" he asked her impatiently.
"You'll see." She went over to Dusk and whispered something in his ear. Then she went to window and opened it. Dusk quickly launched himself and out of the window he plunged, before gaining height and quickly disappearing into the tree line. His mother then methodically picked up his discarded clothing, and then changed her mind and set the clothes back down. "Éadromaigh," she said as she pointed her wand at his trunk. She gathered up the pile of clothes and went out of the bedroom. "Come along, Draco! The living room!"
What is she up to? Muttering oaths under his breath, he strode over to the window and closed it. He picked up his wand from his desk and wondered just where he was going to keep it. He had rather not lose his behind, or his thigh, or break his wand. She has to make another pocket I guess. With a serious expression, he picked his trunk effortlessly and made his way down to the living room. His mother was making use of the fireplace as he walked into the room, carelessly tossing their clothing into the strong flames. He sat down with his trunk across his lap and watched the fires until they died down.
"You should keep your wand someplace, precious. You don't want to lose it."
"Of course not, Mother," he sighed. "But where can I keep it? I don't have any pockets for it."
"That just won't do." His mother pursed her lips in thought. "Stand up, precious," she commanded. Draco knew better than to dawdle when she used that tone and quickly set his trunk down on the floor. No sooner had he straightened his legs upright, a bolt of spell hit him across his flank. There was a slight warming sensation before it disappeared.
"You could have warned me," he muttered and quickly slipped his wand into the special-made pocket.
"Hmmm ... Fallo." His mother made a sweeping movement along the new pocket.
With a tightlipped smile, his mother extended her hand and he took it almost absently. In an instant, his ears were filled with the sound of thousands of flapping winds. When he opened his eyes, it seemed as though he was in a tunnel of spiralling white mist, hurtling toward a gentle, golden light. Suddenly, the roaring stopped and after a blink of his eyes, he found himself sitting with his trunk on his lap, holding his mother's hand. This time though, he was outdoors. Draco swallowed the tight lump in his throat and watched several kids in the motions of jumping on a game of rope – except that they were frozen. There were pigeons in mid-flight and the water of the fountain stayed motionless.
"You came in a good time with your son, lady," said a voice beside him.
Startled, he let go of his mother's hand and nearly jumped out of the bench, but the man sitting beside him held him firmly by the shoulder. "Sit still," the man advised.
Draco started to shake, his eyes wide with horror. This is not right! His mind exclaimed. The dark-haired man wore a checked shirt of white and grays with dark gray pants, and a pair of black boots. He appeared to be neither short nor tall, but he was heavily built.
"I see you did not bring anything with you, lady," the stranger noted with a frown.
"It's just him." His mother nodded.
"What about you?" the man asked, still frowning.
Narcissa shook her head. "It's too dangerous." Blue eyes stared at Draco then. "Don't attempt to contact me, precious." Misty eyes, she bent down slightly and kissed his forehead. "Until we meet again, precious, be safe and stay alive."
"Mot-" But a delicate finger pressed firmly on his lips.
"Be strong, son." His mother turned away quickly, dexterously squeezing herself through the group of children. She kept walking and did not turn back, and Draco did not stop her.
Slowly, time around them started to move and there were sounds of talking, movement and laughter again. The sun was shining strongly upon the Muggle square and Draco started to perspire slightly under the heat of the midday sun. He turned and watched the man, who looked to be in his forties and Muggle. His mind whirled chaotically with angry thoughts and uncertainties. Who was this man that his mother would trust to care for Draco?
"I think we have been sitting out too long in the sun, don't you think son?" the man asked with a raised eyebrow. With a heavy grunt, he got to his feet. "Well, come on then. On your feet." The man said in a good-natured voice but Draco could not help his frown. The older man shrugged and walked in the opposite direction that his mother had taken, onto a path that led them away from the square and to the public road. Then all of a sudden, the man took to running and waving his hand frantically at something down the road. Draco froze and his eyes widened.
"Come on lad! He don't have all day to wait for you! A man's gotta earn well to keep a family fed nowadays!"
Draco took several apprehensive steps toward the vehicle. It grew worse when he finally sat inside of it with the door closed.
"Are you all right?" The driver looked at him curiously.
"Don't you mind him – countrybumpkin and all! Hah! His family is an eccentric one – hugging close to day's old means!" The stocky man said merrily.
"Ah, well, he ain't the only coming from an old-age family, aye? Plenty of those around, what with the good farmland," the taxi driver agreed. "So where to, mate?"
"Up to Coldstream, lad."
"All right then, off we go."
Draco sat back with his jaws clenched tight. He did not like feeling the vibrations and bumps every now and then, and the sounds the vehicles made, jarred his senses. Not too long since they set out on the road, with all the cars, motorbikes and buses, speeding past and honking, a migraine started to attack his head. But the man beside him was chatting brightly with the driver – perhaps to draw the attention away from Draco.
After about twenty minutes ride, the bustling city quietened down to serene countryside. Draco vaguely heard the man giving the driver instructions but at this point, Draco was more concerned about keeping the contents of his stomach in. Finally they came to a stop. The stocky man jerked his chin at the door and Draco tried, as best as he could, to open the door without having to ask how. He managed to accomplish that without too much fumbling. He let out a sigh of relief and stretched his legs. He took a look at his surroundings – he could hear the soft lullaby of water, which meant that there had to be a creek or river nearby. He took a sniff at the air – it was fresh with the smell of trees.
"Over here lad," the man beckoned at him. Draco followed as the older man took a path off the road and into the woods.
As they climbed up the unseen trail, Draco felt a little uneasy. There was something going on, but he could not put his finger on it. His frown returned. He was still trying to figure out what was wrong when he saw the pale blue roof. Then a pale, yellow bricked house came into view. Draco did not know what he had set his expectations to, but he felt a little disappointed. This plain house did not even come close to be a shadow of his Father's oppulent manor. But why would Mother put me into the care of Muggles? He grimaced. How can they provide me with protection if ... He shook his head violently, leaving that thought unfinished.
"It's not much, lad, but it's a solid home," the man said with a gentle smile. Then, he bounded up onto the front porch and knocked on the door with a peculiar rhythm.
"Father?" a muffled, feminine voice reached his ears. "Are you not working today? You're home ea..." The voice froze as the door opened and revealed the girl.
Draco's fingers fell limp and he dropped his trunk, and because it had been charmed, he did not feel any pain when it dropped on his foot. The girl who had opened the door was in a similar state of shock – the broom she had been holding clattered to the floor with a loud noise.
"Oh, do you two know each other?" the man asked in a mildly, surprised tone.
Draco did not answer. The migraine that had gone away when he had gotten out of the taxi came back, as well as his thoughts and questions. The girl stared hard at him, her dark brown eyes going up and down. She arched her eyebrow.
"Well ... isn't it a surprise to see you ... Mister Rockstar?" she drawled out in a sarcastic tone. "He is my housemate, Father, you know ... at school."
"Ah, so he is." The man chuckled, though Draco noticed with faint amusement, that the girl's father was inching away from the door.
"Well ... come on in – and put your boots on the rack, Rockstar. I've just swept the floor and I don't want you putting the dirt back in." She gave him an odd sort of look. "Why is it I am not surprised you don't even remember my name? Huh."
He twinged a little guiltily and then gave himself a mental slap. There's no reason why I should feel guilty at all. He grunted as he quickly took his boots off and placed it on the top of the shoe rack. As he straightened, he felt a little odd. He was out of place, out of his elements. This was a place, and a situation, he did not know how to deal with, or react. He met his schoolmate's eyes again.
"So Father, I doubt that he is just a one-time afternoon guest," the girl said, her eyes dropping down to look at his trunk.
"I guess not, Alhena," the man agreed. "Go on and show him his room and the house if you have a mind to. I am going to have a shower – it's been a hot day and it wasn't much fun sitting in the sun for hours waiting."
"All right, Father. But when Kailen gets home, you are going to have to explain how this came about," the girl called Alhena said seriously. "For now, I'll just keep my thoughts in my mind and words behind my teeth," she muttered.