Inheritance
Ten-Point Challenge
1) Please write me a HarryxDraco fic.
2) Must have overused cliche, but try to make it realistic. ---so, I chose Draco as a veela---
3) Must contain one or two elements crucial to the story that would normally annoy me. But won't. ---and of course, I chose the default annoying thing- OCs---
4) Must be 20+ chapters, medium-length. ---about 5,000 words each, to start---
5) Try not to be too angsty or too fluffy. In short, keep it IC.
6) I would like lemons, but don't write them if you don't think you can.
7) Must have annoying Rita Skeeter.
8) Side pairings: Ron x Hermione.
9) Must deal with any realistic problems that should arise. ---Pansy, Cho, Ginny, etc.---
10) I like tension.
Tell me if I'm failing miserably. Please.
Chapter: One
Pairings: Future HPDM.
Warnings: Cursing.
Chapter summary: Enter fourteen-year old Draco Malfoy, who, at a surprise twist, was forced to attend Durmstrang. He has just discovered his Inheritance. Friends Erik and Branden aren't very helpful.
Author's Note: Okay, OCs. You hate them. I hate them. But they will not be interfering with other pairings. They're there to make you laugh, not throw up. Seems annoying at first. Rest assured, there will be potential Harry-Draco interaction next chapter, to make up for it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Chapter One
Lucius Malfoy sat tight-lipped at the head of the breakfast table. He tapped his cane softly on the dining room floor, with his wife sitting in a seat near him. She was sipping her tea elegantly, sitting up straight with her shoulders squared politely. With a small pop, a frightened house elf Apparated into the room. Her large, round eyes stared at Lucius apprehensively. In her hand was the Daily Prophet, rolled up neatly.
"What took you so long?" Lucius barked. The small house elf cringed.
"Biddy is so sorry, Master Malfoy," she squeaked, keeping her eyes to the floor. "Biddy is very shocked by the headline, Master Malfoy."
"It's not your place to read my newspaper, house elf." The man said icily. Biddy nodded with an ashamed look on her face, and held the newspaper out to her master. Lucius snatched it from her hands, and she started to back away slowly.
Lucius was very shocked by the headline as well, almost choking on his coffee. Narcissa got up at once to rub his back once he started to catch his breath.
"What is it, Lu-"
The blond man turned to his wife angrily, and shoved the headline into her face. Biddy popped out as soon as the conflict began. Narcissa took the newspaper, watching her husband with confusion. He was staring at her with a hardened look on his face. She smoothed it out and read the line. Her face paled almost immediately. She dropped the paper on the table with a quivering hand.
"Is it true?" Lucius asked harshly. Narcissa collapsed into her seat, with her hands over her mouth. Lucius rose from his own seat, standing over her. The color had drained out of his face as well. His voice shook when he asked his wife again.
"Is. It. True?" He repeated. Large, fat tears spilled out of Narcissa's eyes, as she tried to keep from hyperventilating. Her eyes scanned the paper for a few tense moments. Lucius already knew the answer, and dread filled his chest. Finally, his wife closed her eyes and nodded.
"Yes," she whispered. "... yes."
Lucius fell back into his chair, staring at his wife. His expression was unreadable.
"But, Draco! Does this mean-?"
Narcissa's tears started to fall even more rapidly, streaming down her face. Her body was wracked with sobs, and she buried her face into her hands. Lucius restrained himself when he felt the urge to comfort her. This was just too much.
"He's one too," Narcissa said through sobs.
"He can't be," Lucius denied fiercely. "He's my only son! He simply can't be- your kind doesn't even birth men! And I know that Draco's a boy. He's not- this- are you sure, Narcissa?"
His wife nodded, sniffling. "Our Dragon is the first in a long time," she said in a broken voice. "But- this doesn't have to change anything."
"I always knew there was a reason why you kept him from all of our friends' children. I always knew that you didn't put him in Durmstrang instead of Hogwarts for nothing," Lucius muttered. "I simply never expected it to be this. This changes everything, Cissa. Why did you keep this from me?"
"You wanted a pureblood," she whispered. "You wanted a pureblood, but you were my soul mate. My Intended. I really couldn't let you go. My foster family was happy to take me in, and-"
"- lie for you." Lucius finished. He looked at her grimly. "When will Draco discover his?"
"He's already fourteen," she said, closing her eyes. The streams of tears down her face shone in the morning light. Lucius grudgingly thought that he could never bear to split with her. "He should probably feel a small pull within these next few months. It just intensifies from there."
"And we have no control over this."
Narcissa shook her head, and Lucius rubbed his temples. He stood up, pushing his chair back. Narcissa looked up at him, swallowing. He looked anywhere but her, speaking in a business-like manner.
"New arrangements must be made immediately. We need Draco closer to us. I will write to Dumbledore immediately to ask for Draco's admittance to Hogwarts."
"Draco won't like it."
"Draco won't like any of this," Lucius replied. "We'll just have to find some way to make this work. Thank goodness it's summer. We'll need to speak with Draco about this immediately. We might even get Reiker and von Bruin accepted with him."
Narcissa stared at him, anxious. "You won't demand a separation?"
Lucius stared back at her and clenched his jaw. "No."
And then he left.
Draco Malfoy was frowning at the window of a Malfoy-owned horse carriage. There were some Thestrals pulling it along a rickety old road. The stone bricks made a pleasant sound against the wooden wheels. Draco sighed, and tilted his platinum-blond head back so it touched the seat. He had a lot to think about this summer.
'Erik isn't coming to visit for a month. Branden's not coming for more,' he thought. 'And what is this so-called 'urgent' matter that Father wants to speak with me about? It certainly can't be my grades... I think. This is too stressing.'
a week before the school year resumes:
Draco gazed at his reflection in the mirror, staring at himself with a frown. Behind him, there was a profoundly annoying sequence of beeping. The blond made a frustrated noise and whirled around, glaring at his friend Erik. Erik was paying no attention to him. He was very captivated by a Game Boy, pressing its buttons furiously as he sat at the foot of Draco's bed.
"Erik, put that stupid Muggle thing away- before my father sees it in here." Draco warned. Erik glanced at him with a grin.
"Draco, daddy-dearest is only here for like a month a year." He said, reverting his eyes back to the Game Boy. "He won't see it. Besides, shouldn't you be rebelling or something right about now? Something about a big secret that your parents kept from you... for fourteen years?"
The blond was instantly reminded of his dilemma. He turned back to the mirror and glowered at his own deep gray eyes, disgusted. "That wasn't my father's fault," he replied stiffly. "He didn't know that my mother was a Veela when he married her. He didn't even know until the Daily Prophet outed her. I'm just upset that he won't erase her from the Malfoy family tree."
"Most people would call that a divorce," Erik remarked dryly. "And she's your mother. Shouldn't you have some, I dunno, sympathy for her?"
"Thanks to her, I'm not even a pureblood. I'm just some filthy half-blood," he said angrily. "Everyone gets on my back for not being perfect already. Now I'll just be that half-blood child to them."
"At least people will have lower expectations." Came the amused reply. Erik quickly dodged the hand mirror that was chucked at his head. "Besides, I'm not even a little bit of a pure blood. And you hang out with me just fine."
"You're from a long line of magical creatures, Erik. People respect that." Draco said with a shrug. He retrieved his mirror so that he could glare daggers at himself again.
"A Veela is a magical creature, Dray-Dray." Erik deadpanned.
"Yes. But I'm a boy. A boy Veela. That's just ridiculous. I'm going to have women, and men, chasing after my good looks as I get older. It's like pure blood doesn't mean anything these days. The Veela Inheritance overpowers it like it's nothing."
"Oh, sod off." The other boy sighed. "I'm a fucking fairy, Draco. I think I have more of a reason to complain than you do."
"Men don't chase after fairies, Erik. And you're an elven breed."
"I'm going to have pointy ears."
"I'm going to sprout wings."
"You're going to look attractive, Draco. I'm not."
Draco rolled his eyes. Erik knew very well that he wasn't unattractive. He had short blond hair and had pretty eyes. Draco hadn't figured out what color they were yet. The boys would even look similar, if Erik's hair was platinum blond instead of dirty blond. But Draco's gray eyes were a light color as well, so they looked somewhat alike in that aspect. Draco kept up the self-pitying back-and-forth.
"The only difference between you and normal humans will be the eyes and the ears. And even that's a maybe. You can cover ears with hair. On the other hand, I won't be able to cover wings with anything."
"The wings retract, Draco."
"That's not even the point... wait, seriously?"
Erik rolled his eyes and threw the Game Boy onto Draco's bed. The tell-tale 'game over' music blared. Erik waited for it to end before he answered Draco. He looked more exasperated than anything else. "Yes. Just give it a chance, Draco. Don't worry about all that pure blood stuff. Look for some books when we go to Diagon Alley. Being a Veela honestly isn't that bad, compared to other Inheritance options you have."
"Like what?" Draco huffed.
"You could be stuck sucking blood for the rest of your life," interjected a third person. Draco and Erik looked up, to see the third of their trio- Branden. Branden with the black hair, almost-black eyes, and pale skin. He stuck out like a sore thumb in the trio, black-haired among two blonds. Draco cocked his head at him from his desk. Branden plopped down next to Erik and looked at Draco knowingly.
"But I guess we should sympathize with you," he said. "I mean, we knew from the beginning what we were. You had it told to you by that annoying reporter, on the headlines of the Daily Prophet. What was it, Rita Skeeter?"
"Yes. People will be giving me all sorts of looks this year," Draco muttered darkly, pushing his chin-length bangs behind his ear. "And it's not like Durmstrang is a very pleasant place to be anyways."
"Cheer up. We'll be there. We'll the Freaky Three." Erik said. "And didn't your dad say that he's going to try and get you transferred to Hogwarts?" He paused. "... And us too?" He asked in a small voice. Draco stared at his shoe broodingly.
"We would be the first three to just transfer in like this, in the middle of fourth or fifth year, for fifty years." Draco said. "As if we wouldn't already have enough attention on us."
"I like attention," Erik said evenly.
"But I hear that Hogwarts has a decent restricted section for their library. I've already read all the books in Durmstrang's restricted section." Branden added. The other two raised an eyebrow at him. He frowned. "Don't look at me like that because I actually read."
"... on your free time?" Draco asked with his nose wrinkled. "I didn't take you for a loser when I met you."
Branden sighed and changed the subject back to Hogwarts. "So, when would we be able to switch schools? Next year?"
"Possibly in the middle of this year, if my Inheritance gets too wild. Hopefully not, though."
"But I think the guys at Durmstrang would jump you as soon as you start releasing pheromones," Erik interjected. "So it might not be in your best interests to go back to that school for another whole year."
Draco groaned. Branden shoved Erik off the bed and patted his other blond friend on the back.
"Don't mind him, Draco. He's upset that you're going to be prettier than him." He joked with a very serious face on. Draco was not amused, and Erik just lay as a crumpled heap on the floor.
"Why do I even talk to you two?" Draco frowned. "You're no help at all, really."
"You like having us around because we're less good-looking, not well-known, and less smart. Well, at least, I am. You're more vain than you realize. You like to surround yourself with inferior people because it makes you feel awesome about yourself." Erik answered from his position on the floor. Draco kicked him in the shoulder, getting an indignant noise in response. Branden grinned.
"The boy's got a point."
Branden found himself sprawled on the floor, halfway across the room.
"Spoilsport," the two chorused.
"Oh, sod off."
Lucius felt his heart pounding against his ribcage. Bellatrix Lestrange was sneering at him. The blond man kept his contempt carefully concealed from her, making his face impassive. He had better things to think about than his sister-in-law; he was going to ask for a release from the organization. He huffed out a breath and closed his eyes. Bellatrix tossed her hair over her shoulder.
'For my son,' he thought with determination. He opened his eyes and the woman was standing right in front of him.
"If this is about my sister's Inheritance," Bellatrix started. Lucius cut her off.
"No, it's not. This is more about Draco than anything." He waited for the comprehension to reach her face. She seemed to ponder over it for a moment before she understood. She laughed.
"Ah, I forgot all about little Drakey." She said. "Little Drakey, the first male Veela in hundreds of years. He's going to have a hard time of it. What did you come here to talk to me about, then?"
"To put it bluntly: I want out, Bella."
Bellatrix threw her head back and laughed. There was no mirth in her eyes, just a cross between amusement and disdain. "You know the only way out. You've watched what I do to traitors. To people who turn their backs on the Dark Lord."
"I'm not turning my back to the Dark Lord," Lucius said sharply, carefully. "I will always feel the same way about mudbloods. I simply need time away for my son. I need to help him through this... phase of his. No doubt you saw the kinds of things Cissa went through when she was a teenager. It's even worse for the male Veelas. I need to be there for Draco. The Dark Lord would understand. I still believe in him with everything I have, but unfortunately, I can't help him with his cause right now."
"The Dark Lord will rise once more, by year's end." Bellatrix hissed. "He will need every possible follower. If you're not there for his return, nothing will stop him from killing you. Especially not this bleeding heart excuse."
"I will not be a Death Eater again until the worst is over for Draco. I will come at the Dark Lord's return and explain to him, if I have to."
"He'll kill you," Bellatrix snapped.
"Then so be it." Lucius said coolly. He rose to his feet. "Good bye, Bellatrix. I will see you at the Dark Lord's rebirth." He pushed past her sneering face, and with a swish of his robes, he had Apparated away.
When he had gotten back to the Manor, Narcissa was nowhere to be seen. She had probably retired up to her bedroom. However, Draco and his two friends were outside on their broomsticks. Lucius followed his son with his eyes.
'You had better be grateful, Draco.' He thought grimly, before he headed up to his and Narcissa's wing.
"Didn't I tell you that the Thunderbolt was incredible?" Erik yelled, as the wind whistled through the three boys' hair. They were trying to see who could travel from one end of the paddock to the other fastest. Behind him, Branden and Draco kicked their Thunderbolts into gear. Branden flew up next to Erik, but Draco, ever the competitive one, sped up ahead. He left them in his proverbial dust with a huge smirk.
"Incredible until next year, when something else is the best," Branden answered reasonably. Erik flew around him in a circle, seeing as Draco would probably win the race anyways. Branden continued. "Even if Krum was pretty generous to give us these."
"You sound like my mother," Erik shouted over the wind and the violent flapping of his robes.
"You never even knew your mother." Draco said, as he returned to them with a showy swoop. His face was flushed and his eyes were bright with victory. His hair was very disheveled. The boys were glad Draco had decided not to wear gel in it any more. Erik and Branden stopped in mid-air with him.
"Well, I do have her portrait," the second blond shrugged. "And she even talks to me sometimes."
"Like that's a normal thing?" Draco asked with a snort.
"We gave up on the dream of normalcy a long time ago." Branden interjected. "You should probably do the same."
"Stop forcing this on me," the veela said with frustration. "I'm trying, okay? You guys have had fourteen years to accept being a freak. I've had four weeks. So just... drop it, okay?"
Erik frowned, but Branden looked reproachful. "Sorry," he murmured. Draco sighed, but nodded at him. His eyes lit up, and he remembered something.
"Look at this," he said in a hushed tone. He reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out his hand. Clenched in between his fingers was a golden snitch, with its wings rumpled. Erik made an impressed whistle. Draco opened his hand, and the snitch opened its wings. They flapped slowly at first, and then it rose above Draco's hand and soared away.
"God, Draco." Erik groaned. "Don't make us do this. You always win."
"Well, I've had a lot of practice." The other blond said. His eyes watched the snitch with trained ease as it went further and further. "My father always wanted me to be the Slytherin seeker, or on the team at all. I did too. I only practiced because I hoped to achieve that stupid dream."
"Maybe you can," his friends said softly. If Draco was reminded of his situation, he didn't show it. The serious mood was shattered in moments. He flashed the other two a grin before he leaned forward and took off after the snitch.
Erik glanced at Branden, who was lounging on his Thunderbolt. The dark-haired boy caught his eyes, and he shrugged. "At least he's feeling better. But I'm more of a Chaser myself. It's easier."
"Keeper," Erik muttered. "Draco seems to be a bit of a natural at seeking. Although I wonder how good he'd be if he didn't actually care about the game."
"When we were little, he always talked about being the glory of Slytherin house. I didn't even know what that was back then," Branden said, with an air of nostalgia. "I guess it hit him kinda hard when he found out that he'd be going to Durmstrang instead of Hogwarts, like he'd always anticipated. Maybe if he'd just gotten what he wanted, easy, he'd be terrible."
"Hard to imagine."
They watched Draco close in on the snitch, his chest almost parallel to the broomstick. His eyes were glowing with adrenaline, and he reached his hand out. His fingers closed around the winged golden ball, and he whooped in triumph, almost falling off his broom. Fortunately, he righted himself before he could take the fall. His two friends snorted loud enough for Draco to look over.
The indignant blond sniffed, flipped his hair back, and threw the snitch in the air again.
It was another hour before the boys touched the ground again. Draco had spent most of the time chasing the snitch, while his friends looked on. As Branden liked to say, 'always the exhibitionist'. It was five in the evening by then. The boys ate, studied under Narcissa's watchful eye, flew a bit more, and then lounged around in Draco's room before heading to sleep.
They were supposed to attend the World Cup that summer, but Draco's father had been staunchly against it. The next morning, Draco spotted his father reading the Daily Prophet. Death Eaters had attacked the place, and Lucius had stared at him grimly.
Draco did not question his father for the rest of the summer. He had Branden and Erik, and they would have to be enough entertainment.
September 30th
Harry closed his eyes and sighed. It had been a rather trying summer, but he'd been in school for a month now. Save for Pansy Parkinson and a few of the other Slytherins, Hogwarts was a very pleasant experience for him. Ron was talking animatedly about something to his right, and Hermione was sitting across from them. She was nodding as if she was actually listening, although she was busy reading a thick textbook while scribbling down inch after inch for her Potions essay. The fireplace in the Gryffindor common room was roaring with life. Harry basked in its warmth, feeling very sleepy.
"... right Harry? That was a bloody brilliant move!" Ron exclaimed. Harry was snapped out of his trance.
"Hmm? Erm, yeah. Genius." He said quickly. Hermione chuckled, and Ron looked offended.
"You weren't even listening, mate. I was saying that Fred and George made a right brilliant move with that prank on Percy. He's being such a prat that he deserves it."
The green-eyed boy let out a forced grin. Ron seemed satisfied with that, and he flipped through his quidditch magazine. There were only a few minutes of comfortable silence before the red head's voice snapped Harry out of his doze again.
"Can you believe that Umbridge woman?"
"No, Ronald. We can't." Hermione said. "Please, I'm trying to finish all this homework before dinner. The castle is just buzzing with activity, with the other schools coming tomorrow. All of my teachers have taken it upon themselves to assign a mountain of homework. So it seems that you two should be doing some too. Last time I checked, Snape didn't assign a fifty-inch essay to only me."
"'Mione, you know that I'm miserable at Potions." Harry said sleepily. Ron nodded in agreement.
"I've tried to explain it to you so many times, Harry." Hermione said with exasperation. "Maybe you just don't want to learn. I think that Snape has actually been taking it easy on us."
"I don't." Ron mumbled. The bushy-haired girl frowned at him, but turned to address Harry's problem again.
"Maybe you should get a tutor," she suggested. "One who can find the time to teach you right." She paused, and then smiled at Harry. "Maybe a Ravenclaw, whose name is Cho Chang."
Harry spluttered and turned red. "W-what?"
Ron and Hermione exchanged a look that involved far too much waggling of eyebrows for Harry's liking. Hermione closed her textbook and leaned across the table. She looked as if she was speaking to a child.
"Harry, your crush on Cho Chang is very obvious," she said slowly and clearly.
"It's just because she's pretty," Harry said with embarrassment. "It's nothing like that. I mean, she's a year older than me. And she's so pretty."
"I wonder what you boys will do when one or two Veelas from Beauxbatons show up tomorrow," Hermione said with a smirk. Ron looked like he was in heaven with that idea. Harry just bit his lip. "They're just as pretty, if not prettier, than Cho Chang. Plus, they have all those added pheromones. Ronald, close your mouth before you start drooling." She snapped, before she turned back to her other friend. "Harry, are you planning to do anything about Cho?"
Harry shook his head furiously. "No. At least, not any time soon."
Hermione looked a bit annoyed. She glanced at Ron, whose eyes were glowing with excitement. "You know, if you like a girl, you had better tell her." She said very pointedly. "Girls just hate waiting for guys to confess their feelings."
The green-eyed boy watched with amusement as Hermione tried to get her message off to Ron, who wasn't even paying attention at this point. Hermione looked at Harry, frustrated.
"Boys," she muttered murderously. She picked up her books and stomped off. Ron didn't notice her absence, still all too dazed with the new arrivals to Hogwarts. Harry rolled his eyes and leaned back in his armchair. He was determined to get a nap in before dinner. This time around, Ron didn't even interrupt his slumber. The black-haired boy got to dinner dangerously late that night.
Hermione was in a foul mood for the whole day before the other two schools arrived. Ron was left in a half-dreamy state, and Harry was just too embarrassed about the last evening's confrontation to say anything. He found himself staring at Cho more frequently than ever. A few times, she caught his eye and gave him a tentative smile. There weren't exactly butterflies fluttering in his stomach whenever she did so- it was just an awkward attraction. He was doing more blushing than she was.
Dumbledore cleared his throat. All of the Hogwarts students were in the Great Hall, waiting for Durmstrang and Beauxbaton' grand entrances. The headmaster gave his introductory speech, which Harry didn't bother listening to. He was staring at the back of Cho's head. She was laughing with her friends, with her back turned to him. To his left, Ron was getting very antsy. He was looking anywhere and everywhere, clearly excited. To his right, Hermione was looking annoyed, but she was listening attentively to Dumbledore.
"And now," Dumbledore said. His voice suddenly cut through the chatter. There was a hushed silence. "Madame Maxime and Beauxbatons!"
Harry tore his eyes off Cho for a moment. Ron let out a little whimper next to him as the girls started into the Great Hall. Hermione huffed, and Harry fidgeted with his fingernails as Ron quivered in his seat, amazed. His brunette friend seemed to be grudgingly captivated as well. Harry was just felt a twinge of annoyance, due to the fact that they were blocking his view of Cho.
After a while, the girls settled down. Durmstrang came next. Girls all throughout the Great Hall erupted into hushed murmurs and giggles. Hermione was looking happier, and Ron just looked disappointed.
They were blocking Harry's view of Cho too. Suddenly, Ron clamped onto his friend's arm. "H-Harry! Look!"
"What?" He mumbled, straining his eyes to see what Ron was so amazed by. The redhead pointed, and Hermione followed too. "Mate, that's Viktor Krum! Viktor Krum is here, at Hogwarts!"
Harry recognized him at once. Hermione furrowed her eyebrows at the excited boy. "It's just a quidditch player, Ronald."
"Just a quidditch player? 'Mione, he's famous!" Ron hissed, with his eyes bright. Viktor didn't even glance their way. He smiled at a few Hufflepuff ladies, and then Durmstrang settled down. To the Weasley's vast disappointment, he sat at the Slytherin table, where the green-adorned students sent a collective smirk over to the Gryffindors.
Ron was simply buzzing with disappointment, but Harry's eyes were on something else now. Karkaroff made a slight gesture to someone at the door. The polished wood opened slowly, and three figures slipped in. At the Head Table, Moody was watching with his eyes narrowed. Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling, as he glanced at them. He began another speech, one that sent all the Hogwarts students into a flurry of excited whispers. It was just background noise to Harry, as he made out the three figures. They sat at the edge of the Slytherin table, having slipped by unnoticed by mostly everyone.
The one who stuck out the most at first glance had black hair. It was wavy, but kept in a neat ponytail. His eyes were dark, practically black, and his skin was pale. He had a learned, courtly look about him. Intelligent eyes, prominent chin, strong cheekbones.
There was someone sitting in between him and the boy at the end of the table, but Harry couldn't see him clearly. He was leaned in too much, with his face hidden to half of the Great Hall. Harry sat up straighter in an effort to see him. All he could tell was that the boy had silvery blond hair. Eventually, he looked at the boy at the end.
He was leaning back so far it was a wonder he didn't fall. He was a lean-muscled type person, never to have a large physique. He had dirty blond hair that was cut short, and light-colored eyes. Harry couldn't tell from his distance. He had a more chiseled look about his face. Harry's eyes roamed back to the blond in the middle, curious.
The blond at the end had caught him staring. He nudged the boy in the middle, who turned around. Harry felt his breath catch in his throat, as green met gray.
Good, bad? Tell me if I should lessen up on the OCs.