Protectors of the Great
Summary: Draco Malfoy knew he had a destiny to uphold; to Protect the Great wizard of this century, but he always thought that wizard would be the Dark Lord, not annoying Harry Potter. DM/HP
Warnings: Draco/Harry, Hermione/Ron
Disclaimer: Sadly I own nothing
Chapter One: The Definition of a Protector
July 31, 1995
The sword seemed lighter between Draco's hands, far lighter than last year. He'd grown a little; gotten stronger, and now the once gargantuan sword slid easily between his hands.
"Anytime you're ready, Draco," Snape said, and Draco nodded, closing his eyes and changing his stance so that his left leg was thrust forward and his sword was raised just above his head. Then, without warning, he charged at Snape who moved only just in time to parry his thrust. Snape quickly maneuvered the sword he was carrying so that Draco's blade was underneath his own. The screeching sound of metal sliding against metal filling the large room devoid of objects save a few practice dummies, some books scattered on the floor, and a large red brick wall.
"You've become quicker," Snape said.
"And stronger," Draco said, never the one for modesty. "You won't believe what occurs when I finally decide to take your advice and train."
Draco pushed his blade up and broke free, moving his feet backwards and putting a fair amount of distance between himself and his godfather. They began to circle one another, each of them looking for an opening they could not find. Suddenly, Snape rushed forward and thrust his sword towards Draco's left flank, but Draco was quick and knew Snape's tactics, so he easily deflected it.
"Your body may have matured but you still act like a petulant child," Snape said.
"I do not!" Draco shouted, momentarily losing focus.
In that one moment Snape moved forward, kicked out Draco's legs with his own and moved his sword over Draco's throat once he had fallen. Draco's chest rose and fell quickly, his eyes widened with surprise, and an embarrassed flush slowly creeping up his neck.
"Never allow you're opponent's words to get to you during a battle," Snape said, moving his sword away from Draco's throat and holding out his hand.
Draco scowled and ignored it, getting up himself.
"I don't need your help," he muttered sheathing his sword; stepping out of the practice room and out of sight.
Snape sighed. "But you do, Draco. You always have."
Draco Malfoy did not have the normal spoiled rich-boy childhood everyone thought he did. Oh sure, he was given everything he ever wished for; toys, brooms, even friends, but it was at a price.
Because, in between the pampering from his mother, the gifts from his father, and the fawning and adoration from his friends there was something lurking, something he knew was going to happen, and the one thing that reminded Draco most of this fact was the training.
It started when he was six, when he was old enough to hold a sword and strike with it, but too young to understand why he needed to. It went on like that for years, he would go to the training room and practice wand work, martial arts, agility, stealth training, disguise, and swordsmanship with various tutors (and Snape when he was away from Hogwarts) all without asking why, or even feeling the need to ask because his father had stated that this was the way things were going to be and his father's word was law.
He didn't find out why until he was eleven and it was the summer before he was going off to Hogwarts. Draco was called to his father's study, an honor reserved for the most severe scoldings, so it was obvious Draco would feel hesitant while going inside.
"You called for me father?" Draco asked, still standing by the doorway.
"Yes Draco, please, sit down," Lucius said, gesturing towards a tall ornate wooden chair opposite the desk he sat at. It was designed to cause the person sitting there discomfort.
Draco sat down slowly and looked around. He hadn't entered the room since he was seven and had stolen newt's guts from his father's lab and accidentally spilled it on his mother's favorite Kneakle fur cloak. The room had not changed much. The walls were still lined with bookshelves filled with books on potions, the dark arts, and (his father's dirty little secret) the occasional trashy romance novel. The only other object covering the wall was the occasional portrait of blond haired men, his ancestors. Underneath his feet was a thick werewolf fur rug and his father' desk was tidy and devoid of tiny trinkets save an unopened bottle of firewhiskey and a glass.
His father was dressed informally in a dark blue silk robe, his long hair tied back with a blue ribbon, and a pair of thin silver reading glasses on his nose. He was absorbed in a book and did not look up for several minutes, making Draco all the more uncomfortable (although the hard chair certainly was not helping.) Draco subtly lifted himself up to peek at the book and saw a lot of small printed words and a picture of a blond haired man standing in front of a glowing figure. The blond haired man was holding a sword and fighting back monsters. His father abruptly closed the book, causing Draco to jump. He took off his glasses and stared Draco in the eyes, as if he had just noticed he had arrived.
"How much do you know about your ancestors?"
Draco's father only asked questions like this before Draco was about to be punished. Things were not looking good. He racked his brains, looking for an answer.
"My great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather Fanish Malfoy was not wealthy, but he had ambition," Draco recalled, drawing up memories of bedtime stories his father used to tell him. "He wanted to be rich, so that he could provide for his family. He invested in something no one thought would sell; small sized cauldrons. Now there's one in every home."
Lucius shook his head at his son. "Wrong."
Draco looked up at his father, a surprised look painted across his face. "But you were the one who told me that."
His father nodded. "I know. I lied."
Draco sat back in his seat, words failing him. Why had his father lied to him? About something as important as family?
Lucius uncorked the bottle of firewhiskey and poured it into a glass in front of him. He slowly took a sip, appearing calm but Draco knew he was gathering his thoughts. Draco knew this because his father taught him appearances matter, and even if you do not feel calm, you must appear so, to make your opponent falter.
"I have a reason for lying to you, Draco," Lucius said, after setting down his glass. "You were not ready to hear the truth. Now, you are. I am going to tell you the true story of your ancestors."
Lucius took another small sip from his glass. "Did you ever wonder why you were being taught these things?"
There was no need to ask what things his father was talking about. They both knew about the training room and what went on there.
"At first I didn't question why, but now I think it is because a Death Eater, because Snape is teaching me Dark Magic."
Lucius' eyes widened and a faint smile flitted across his face. "Very perceptive, Draco. But then again, you are my son."
Draco's face brightened, delighted by his father's praise. Maybe he was not being punished.
"You are half right," Lucius said. "You will become a Death Eater. The best Death Eater the world has ever known." Lucius' eyes fell downcast. "Hopefully a better Death Eater than I have been."
Before Draco could question his father's sudden change in mood, his father continued on.
"Your ancestor, Fanish, was not an inventor. He was a Protector and when the one he was Protecting died he inherited their fortune. That is why we are endowed with so much wealth today."
Protector? "Who was he protecting, father?"
"Salazar Slytherin."
Draco inhaled a sharp breath. "The Salazar Slytherin? One of the four founders of Hogwarts, and the leader of the house of Slytherin?"
His father nodded. "Fanish was the first. The first of the Protector's."
Lucius paused for a moment, most like for effect. "Every time the first male Malfoy of a generation is born he is given a necklace. A necklace identical to the one currently around your neck."
Draco's hand unconsciously went to his neck and touched the black rope that held a small blue stone.
"When he has trained enough and is ready that necklace will glow and when he lays eyes on them, he will know his Great."
Draco leaned forward a little, hanging on Lucius' every word. "His great?" he asked in a hushed tone.
"Every century has a wizard, or several wizards, who hold great power and are capable of great things. But these wizards can be killed by even the simplest weapon. That is why these wizards need to be Protected," Lucius took another sip of his firewhiskey. "That is where we come in."
"Your ancestor, Fanish Malfoy, was friends with Salazar Slytherin, because he knew Salazar was ambitious and capable of great things. Fanish devoted his life to learning magic to protect him, but Salazar was killed by a muggle sword. Fanish gained all of Salazar's fortunes but he was angry he let his friend die. When Fanish had his first child, Adder, he gave him a small blue stone, with the rune Algiz carved onto it, which means protection and the rune Uruz, which means physical strength and speed or untapped potential. This stone would only activate when it deemed Adder ready so Fanish trained his son, in all the things I am training you in now, so that he could be ready and when the stone activated, Adder found the wizard he was destined to Protect, and he Protected him until the day he died."
"This tradition has been passed on for generations. Every first Malfoy son gets a rune stone with the symbols Uruz and Algiz carved onto it and when it activates he becomes a Protector and when he finds his Great, he Protects him."
Lucius paused, allowing time for Draco to process everything. "So does that mean, that you are―"
"I am a Protector," Lucius said.
"And your Great is―"
"The Dark Lord."
"And when I am ready, I too will become a Protector."
Lucius nodded. "And you will Protect the Dark Lord, for he is the Great of this century."
There was a moment of silence again, as Draco once again processed everything. "Is Snape also a Protector?"
Lucius laughed, a deep hearty laugh most thought a man as seemingly cold as him could not make. "No, Severus is merely a friend and a fellow Death Eater. The honor of being a Protector is only for those of Malfoy blood."
Draco nodded.
"Your Great is not the only person you must Protect," Lucius continued on. "To ensure you will have offspring, you will also have a Mate."
"A mate? Like the ones Veela have?"
"Kind of. The stone around your neck also has another rune, Berkano, meaning birth and general fertility. This rune will cause you to find a girl who is similar to you and can provide you with offspring; you're soul mate if you will. You will wish to Protect this girl and will love them unconditionally, but they are not as easy to find as your Great. I had to take a potion just to be sure Narcissa was my Mate."
"So you and mother are destined to be with one another?"
"Yes, we are," Lucius said. "It sounds like one of those romance novels on the shelf, doesn't it?"
Draco grinned and nodded.
Lucius took the book he had been reading earlier and pushed it towards his son. "This book was written by each Protector there ever was and contains information on who you are to become but you have much to learn that cannot by provided in that book. That is why I will be teaching you lessons on the Protectors in addition to the lessons you already have."
Draco sighed and sank down in the hard, tall, wooden chair. It seemed as though he was being punished after all.
A/N:
Yay! I finally wrote another story on (instead of perusing the website and reading other people's fanfics. I got this idea and I had to write it, so please review and tell me what you think.