"Mordred, what are you doing here? If Lord Ambrose's men catch you-"
"I've come to save you before he can ruin you," the young man replied, taking her hand in his own and pulling her towards the hidden corridor.
She resisted, pulling her arm back and biting her lip before he could see the pain on her face. "I can't. It's the only way to ensure my people's freedom."
"By tying yourself to that no good two faced Frankish bastard? Vivian, you know this isn't right. Merlin-"
"My brother abandoned us to seek out his own destiny."
"Yes, one which brought me to you, my love."
She stepped back, away from him and did her best to school her features to keep him from seeing the truth in her eyes. "Mordred, you must leave me to my fate. I am a princess, and it is my duty to my people to marry well and..." She placed her hands on her stomach, still refusing to look at him. "And provide the kingdom an heir."
Mordred came forward again, taking both her hands in his own and holding them to his chest. "He... He has already..."
She nodded, unable to meet his steady, warm gaze. His grip on her hands tightened, only some. It was to comfort, not to express his boiling rage. "I thank you, Sir Mordred for your concern," she said, stepping back and pulling her hands away from him. "Know that... if you were not a foreign bastard and I not a princess, I would have been so pleased to be your wife."
"But you are my wife in all but name. That child could still be mine."
"No... I am certain, I am with child by my husband. Please, you must go now Sir Mordred. It is improper for us to be alone together without the presence of my lord."
Mordred refused to release the tears that longed to be shed. "My Lady," he said in as formal a tone as he could manage. He reached into his satchel and removed a bracelet. Softly he murmured and cast a spell over it, sending it to her using his magic and leaving it floating before her. "I wish you all the happiness in the world, My Lady. Keep this, as a token of your homeland and the friendship we once shared."
Before she could respond, he was gone. Faded back into the shadows as the bracelet fell to the ground. She dropped to her knees, hugging herself and trying not to be sick at what she had just done. Delicate fingers picked up the bracelet he left behind. With the barest of touch, she could feel the brand upon her arm, black and and writhing just beneath her skin, reacting to the magic contained within the trinket. It hurt to touch the metal, and when she set it down again the brand ceased its harming.
She made a decision. She picked it up, swallowing hard and sliding it over her hand. It resized itself to fit her thin wrist. The pain in her arm... The pain would remind her for the rest of her days what she had given up so that she may do her proper duty.
oooo
Draco sighed as he rolled over, attempting to block out the sun as he tried to cling to the last scraps of the fading dream. This one wasn't new... not exactly. Longer, though, than it had been the last few times he'd had it.
It was for naught, however, as his bedroom door was thrown open and two women hurried in, one of them waving a copy of the Daily Prophet at him. "Draco! Draco it made page two!"
He pushed himself up in bed, rubbing at his eyes as the duvet fell to expose the heraldry that had burned itself into his skin. The red dragon, claws raised, was the very same that emblazoned the muggle flag for Wales. He scratched at it, the thing still stinging from the day before. Nails scraped across old, raised scars. "What?"
"The interview, of course!"
The paper was thrust at him, already turned to the proper page. The weight of the bed shifted as the two women sat on either side of him, peering over to read the article for the fourth time that morning. "Page two! That's not too bad considering it was mostly about the books and the store. And that horrid Weasley."
"Oh oh! I love this one!" Pansy said, pointing to one of the pictures. "Oh if she only knew..."
He rolled his eyes, nudging her to let him up out of his bed and going straight to his desk, uncaring that he was only in his silk pajama bottoms. Quickly he found a pen, clicking it and scribbling on the nearest scrap of paper he could find before the last vestiges of the dream faded away.
"Oh no... Come on Astoria. He's going to be in one of THOSE moods today," she said, her companion picking up the paper before thinking better of it and leaving it for their friend.
"I'll bring you some breakfast," Astoria said as Pansy pulled her from the room. "And that muggle coffee you like!" she called back down the hallway of their flat.
Draco only waved dismissively as he continued to scribble down what he could, stopping only to sketch out the bracelet before he could lose the vision completely.
oooo
The morning was spent at his typewriter, a gift from Pansy when the three of them had decided to live together in Muggle Cardiff after the war. Back when the marks first started appearing on every wizard over the age of 18. Back before the dreams had begun and he had yet to decide what to do with the NEWTs he'd earned after private tutoring.
His bedroom was his sanctuary. His office. His escape from the world outside. That morning's Daily Prophet sat on his desk beside the typewriter, a cold cup of coffee sitting atop it.
Two faces looked back at him from the page. Though in black and white, he did not need to imagine the red hair of the woman clutching the book to her bosom. He watched in fascination as the two people interacted before he cast a warming charm on his coffee and took a sip of the reheated liquid.
the man in the picture, long dark brown hair pulled back away from his face, was smiling. Calm, collected, and professional. And for just a moment as he glanced up to the cameraman, still signing the book in his hand, Draco could, very briefly, see through the mask of professionalism and see a genuine expression. it seemed very natural, for just a split second, on the false face of the public persona.
He turned his attention back to the paper in his typewriter. Staring at the black inked letters on the pristine white muggle paper as he sipped his coffee thoughtfully before he set the cup back down and laid his hands back to the keys.
Later, he would hand the stack of newly written scenes to Astoria and Pansy to read over, just as he did for all his books since he had first started turning his bizarre dreams into tawdry romance novels.
oooo
It had been weeks since the Daily Prophet interview before he and the photographer were brought together again.
The dream of the princess turning her lover away had returned twice in that time. Once again he was privy to more detail than before, and had started to ensure he had plenty of supplies within reach to scribble it down or sketch it out when he woke.
He found himself signing yet another copy of a book when he heard the clicks. Looking up, brushing brown hair out of his face, he smiled. "Mr. Padfoot."
"Mr. Dredstone," the man said with a smile, lowering his camera and offering his hand once Draco passed the book back. "It's good to see you again."
"And you. Your photos from the signing were very good. I'm impressed," he said, ignoring he stinging in his chest as he shook, then let go of his hand. "You even managed to catch my good side."
"All your sides are good sides," he replied, letting his hand fall slowly back down to his side. "And thank you for the books. Hermione has the signed one in a stasis charm on a shelf now while she's devouring the new copy."
"And you?" he asked with a polite, curious smile at the photographer. He watched as the man hesitated, only for a moment as he bit his lip and shrugged.
"It's alright, I suppose. Never really gave much thought to where Merlin came from. Back at school we were always taught that he just sort of appeared one day. Like he was sprung up from the earth itself or something."
Draco was about to say more, but someone else at the charity function was trying to get Mr. Padfoot's attention. "Go on," he said to him with a slight nod. "It was good seeing you. And do tell me next time what else you make of my book."
"I will," he said with an embarrassed smile before raising his camera, snapping one last photo, and moving on to another corner of the room. Draco watched him, keen eyes seeking him out and following him in the crowd between conversations.
Astoria sidled up next to him with a glass of champagne in her hand. She wasn't drinking it, but appearances needed to be upheld. "Well wasn't he a handsome devil."
"Who? The bore in the waistcoat or-"
"You know who I mean," she said, turning a little so that her words couldn't be overheard. "You might want to reign in your longing looks love. People might start to talk"
"Let them talk," he said. "It's Dredstone they'll be gossiping about, not me."
And so Draco continued to watch. Openly and unashamed, safe in the knowledge that his glamours protected him, and the faded mark on his arm securely hidden in his sleeves.
oooo
"This is very good," Pansy said one evening, reading over the latest revisions of Draco's manuscript.
"Good? No no, it must be perfect," he said, snatching it back from her.
She raised a brow before bringing the bottle of pop to her lip. When she set the bottle back down on their coffee table, she patted the sofa beside her. "Come on you silly cunt. Sit down and talk."
"I-"
"You're wound tighter than my father's purse strings. Now come sit down and start talking before I get Astoria in here to sit on you."
He glanced back at the hallway leading deeper into the flat and shook his head with a sigh. No, no, it wouldn't do to upset the woman in her delicate condition. So Draco sat, took her bottle of pop and emptied it before taking a deep breath and starting at the beginning.
His two roommates knew he had peculiar dreams. Had done since the mysterious marks had started appearing. They had been his inspiration. Transforming them from snatches of inspired dreams to tales of heroic deeds and courtly intrigues had become his life's work.
But the bracelet, the bracelet from the most recent and more frequent dream frightened him. Not because of what such an artifact could do, but because he had learned that it had existed. That it had been sitting in the Malfoy family vaults in Paris for centuries. He had written to his mother, sending her one of his drawings only to learn she'd had something just like it appraised the spring before his birth.
"What?"
"It can't be a coincidence. This... this thing has been in my family vault all this time. And I've never seen it, Pans. Never. But I'm dreaming about it. For heaven's sake, the only reason I started writing fiction is because no one would believe half the information I've uncovered in my historical research!" As if suddenly remembering Astoria, he lowered his voice again. "They still teach that Merlin just appeared out of thin air, even though I've found documented evidence otherwise. Entire genealogies that not even the Goblins can refute and still no one believes it. Because every paper, every scroll I've written on the discoveries I've made has the name Malfoy attached to them."
He threw himself back on the cushions of the sofa as Pansy turned to face him, drawing one of her legs up onto the seat to bend it inward. "You think... You honestly believe these dreams actually happened? Like you're being allowed to look into the past for some reason?"
Draco nodded, knowing he sounded insane. "That's why it has to be perfect. Not just good. I think... I think it's building to something. Something big but I can't put my finger on it. I do know that this is the last book. Whatever I'm meant to find out, whatever this is, it's like I'm possessed. I'm compelled to tell people about it."
"And it started when the mark first came?" She knew the answer. But she wanted to be absolutely sure before she formed an opinion on the matter. Before she committed time and energy to looking into it with him.
He nodded again. "A few days after," he said. "When I was inspired to write the first one."
Pansy thought for a long moment before getting up from the sofa. "Alright, here's the plan. Between the three of our families, we have access to a very large library of magical books. I'll write to Blaise-"
"No-"
"I know you're not speaking right now. I know why. But he owes me a life debt and while I was saving it for a rainy day, I know it will really be like a punch in the gut if I call it in and tell him it's a personal favor for you. So there's the massive Zabini collection at our disposal. That should be enough of a start before we expand our search."
"Pansy what in Merlin's name do you think we're going to be doing?"
"Research, of course. This soul mark business had to have come from somewhere. If what you said about the bracelet is true, then that means maybe some other parts of your stories, from your dreams, are true. The marks play a big part in... which one was it... Pauper's Crown?" She stroked her chin in thought. "Or was it The Warlock's Heart?..."
Draco rolled his eyes. "You know very well it was book six."
"Ah yes... Serpent's Secrets. If we take the marks as common truth in the time of Merlin, then we might find some record in the old pureblood libraries of where the marks might have gone in the meantime. At the very least we might be able to find some folk tales that can give us a new perspective of the whole mess."
With that she hurried off to write her letters, leaving Draco alone with his thoughts.