Hello Lovelies!
Yes, I'm late... Sorry for that, but there was so much to write and with the holidays and all, my schedule got rather predictably messed up. Hope the lengthy chapter makes up for it, though.
Furthermore, I know I kinda promised some Draco, Blaise and Hermione interaction, and well... there's none of it in this chapter... so I apologise for that, too. However, we have a guest appearance of Lucius, the not so dead bastard... followed by a heart to heart between Draco and Narcissa, yeah I had a lot of mother son sweetness already, but it's important for the progression of the story and besides, now that the school year is about to begin we'll see a lot less of Narcissa from here on out. Kings Cross with a first dash of Slytherin politics and Draco has friends, I know, surprise surprise... Namely Daphne and Pansy, who weren't all that appreciative of his lack of letters... Not at all. To top it all off, we get to meet Neville and hear a bit of Draco's split feelings on Theo.
I don't own Harry Potter. Duh... But playing with the characters is sooo much fun!
Hope you enjoy the chapter as much as I did while writing it
Chapter 5 Paths intertwined Part 1
"You'd do well not to disappoint me, boy. It seems nigh inevitable, useless child that you are, but I'll not have my only son and heir soil the good name of our House by gallivanting with the riffraff. Filth which Dumbledore, the senile old fool, allows to desecrate the most honoured halls of our ancestors. There are certain expectations that come with the Malfoy name and fortune. Standards I very much expect you to uphold, whether it might concern the nature of your uh… chosen associates or the talent displayed in your classes. We are the blood of Dragons. Royalty. Elevated above our peers by rights of blood, magic and millennia of tradition. Leaders and Rulers, never far from the epicentres of power and decision-making. Anything short of outstanding achievements or even worse shameful mediocrity will not be tolerated, no matter the circumstances! Do we understand each other, Draco?"
Salazar, no wonder I was such a right little shit… Practically being force-fed comparable rhetoric for the better part of your life would probably cloud anyone's judgment! Lucius certainly sounds even more ludicrous than I remember and that's saying something…
Beyond the rather uh... questionable content of Lucius' silk covered words, the deceptive softness of his voice hardly enough to conceal the sharp edge of a dark promise lurking in their depths, the tall wizard in question had exceptionally little in common with the hollow shell he had been reduced to over the course of the Dark Lord's reign. Stiff and proud. Long platinum hair tied back at the nape of his neck in the manner most conservative wizards preferred it these days. His richly decorated clothes as usual sporting a variety of black, greys and greens, speaking of a life lived in comfortable wealth but without succumbing to the temptations of excess. In short, he held himself like a powerful wizard in his prime, exuding nothing but confidence and an air of sharp coldness, verging on deliberate cruelty.
So full of the overinflated pride he treasures above all else. Merlin, what I'd give to show him how far he will fall... But then I don't think I can wait another ten years to see the bastard get his well-deserved comeuppance!
Catching the slight paling of his mother's cheeks at the edges of his periphery, Draco bit back the scathing, bitingly sarcastic retort he had been balancing on the tip of his tongue. All the while ignoring the pointed fangs of the golden snake that adorned Lucius walking stick, as they were burrowing deeper and deeper into his shoulder. Cold metal scraping across the barely healed welts of the beating Lucius had given him hardly more than a day ago. The added force another reminder of his intended position within hierarchy of their household. Quiet and obedient, duty-bound to follow all orders the Head of the Malfoy family had decreed.
Well, at least that's how it's supposed to be in theory.
In their particular case, reality certainly did not align with any such a theoretical framework, but Lucius did not have to know as much before Draco had found a failsafe way to dispose of the older wizard without earning himself a straight oneway ticket to the soul-eroding dreariness that was Azkaban. All things considered, having a premature family reunion with his deranged aunt was something he could really do without, thank you very much! Not when there was a reasonable chance that he would come up with a more viable strategy before the Yule hols, preferably one that would eliminate Lucius from the equation without putting his other plans at risk.
I would feel better about the whole thing if the family magic wasn't in such a vulnerable state.
Distracted by the rather confusing turn of events their trip to Diagon Alley had taken... What with the eye opening meeting with the Boy Who Lived, not to mention the plethora of surprising implications... It had cost Draco an unduly amount of time to notice how erratic and out of sorts the ancestral Malfoy magic responded to his call. To gleam the glaring irregularities in its structure, without being in the possession of the family insignia. Not weakened to the brink of extinction, but divided, partially fractured, as if the quintessential fabric of their magic had not yet entirely recovered from the destruction it had faced in the original timeline. Just like Draco's forearm still bore the ragged prove of the darkness, which had been branded into his flesh.
Killing Lucius outright, while a rather inconsequential move at a time when their ancestral magic had already been poisoned beyond repair, could end up causing irreparable damage to a source of power they could hardly dismiss as inconsequential in this war. Leaving the dark affiliations of the Malfoy family aside, which had, at least initially, not necessarily been a product of pureblood mania and much more a profession of unwavering support for the old ways, the Manor itself as well as the lands that belonged it were invaluable from a strategic standpoint. After all, there had been a logical reason why the Dark Lord had elected it as the seat of his headquarters. One that went far beyond, at first 'honouring' and later shaming the family of one of his supporters within their own walls.
The Manor itself, for all its undeniable extravagance, was certainly not the most lavish piece of architecture pureblood society had to offer. One look at Fernwick Abbey, the ancestral home of the Greengrass family would suffice to disprove any such notion. Nevertheless, since the downfall of House Archhall in 1484 it had been the Malfoy family's privilege to boast of owning the most envied private building in Wizarding Britain. None other could compete with the power slumbering in its walls, the impenetrable warding that had only grown as new centuries passed. Its might only falling short in comparison to Hogwarts and Gringotts who certainly revealed their very own set of disadvantages, when being assessed for military value.
I'll have to find a way to get rid of Lucius without compromising most of the strategic advantage being in control of Malfoy Manor will offer us!
Resolved to keep his cowed facade securely in place, Draco forced his features to take on a pained quality, exaggerating the hot flares of pain the sharp edged metal sent through his shoulder, while he was answering Lucius' lecture with as much feigned submission as he could bear to muster. Head lowered in pretended shame, shoulders slouched just enough to hint at his remorseful state, without earning a sharp reprimand for his less than perfect posture. "Of course, father. I would never dare to disappoint you. As you have so aptly stated time and time again: Upholding our legacy is imperative in the current political climate. It wouldn't do to tarnish our reputation by cavorting with the wrong sort, not that I'd ever want to get close to such filth."
Nonetheless, you want me to become friends with Harry Potter, the halfblood son of a bloodtraitor, just because it would suit your political goals, you spineless hypocrite!
Face displaying equal parts satisfaction and disgust with his son's easy compliance, Lucius lips curved into a dark smile, doubling the pressure on Draco's shoulder. This time the blonde's wince was not entirely for show. As he had unfortunately come to learn since Lucius' arrival, his high insensitivity to physical pain had not been part of the soul transfer. The tolerance he had built up through years of endurance, be it Lucius' harsh discipline or Bella's idea of sensible 'training', irretrievably lost, even though his abilities to conceal his resulting reactions were considerably improved.
Mind over matter, or some shite like that... Though, it doesn't change the fact that everything hurts somewhat fierce in this body!
"Oh, I know you wouldn't dare to embarrass me! At least not if you care for the mangy fleabag Severus has so ill-advisedly insisted on buying you! Otherwise I am quite sure that some kind of accident might be arranged. Bad enough that your godfather was so easily swayed by your regrettable display of weakness. A Malfoy, the very epitome of pureblood pride, raising a cat in the noble halls of Slytherin. What has our world come to? Do you need to shame me any further?"
Yeah, that came as quite a surprise, albeit not an unwelcome one. Not that uncle Sev's attempt at directing Lucius' ire away from us deterred the asshole from making his displeasure known, but the effort was still highly appreciated.
Mutely Draco nodded his assent, not trusting his voice not to betray the deep feeling of disgust and hatred that cursed through him, while his mother was moving towards her husband, making a clicking sound whenever the heels of her shoes hit the cold floor.
"Oh Lucius, I am sure Draco will handle the pet situation delicately. You have taught him well and you've got to admit Atalanta is not the most usual cat. She definitely won't stand in the way of Draco earning the respect of his peers." Her voice was soft. Calming and yet determined. Without doubt trying to distract Lucius from her son's flaring magic, which was almost in tune with the humming energy pulsating through the air. It already spoke to Lucius inattentiveness that he had not noticed the torn allegiance of their magic, how out of touch he had come with such an essential part of his identity as a wizard and the Head of House Malfoy.
How deliciously ironic that Maman whose only claim to our magic is through marriage and being the mother of the future Lord would pick up on it, whilst the man who carries the family ring remains utterly ignorant.
Narcissa's gaze lingered on Draco a tad longer than strictly necessary, an increasingly common occurrence ever since Lucius had finally returned from France, shattering the almost idyllic atmosphere Severus, Narcissa and Draco had created ever since their trip to Diagon Alley. Their days filled with hours of potion brewing, where Draco had tried to up the ante, flying through the first three years of the Hogwarts curriculum without any major effort. Already setting the stage for the upset Blaise's, Granger's and his magical talent were bound to cause at the school.
Can't really say I blame her... acting convincingly is much more difficult with Lucius around. Controlling my expression is one thing, but the unusual response of my magic is another matter altogether.
Unfortunately, his wife's interjection only served to enrage Lucius further, gaze snapping towards her with a cruel sneer. Violence radiating from his predatory stance, making Draco wish, his mother had not interfered on Atalanta's behalf. It was not as if Lucius could have killed the kitten outright, since it would have been regarded as a severe slight against Severus and in extension the Prince family. Who, while not a political heavyweight, made for an undeniably useful ally, being the only former Death Eater who had gained Dumbledore's confidence.
Besides, I've sworn never to let any harm befall the fluffy menace, so obviously there's that!
"Do I have to remind you of your place, love? It seems my absence has emboldened you unduly, or was it something else entirely? A cherished friend, perhaps?" Lucius' velvety voice had been transformed to a dangerous hiss, which snapped Draco out of his thoughts, just in time to see the older wizard's fingers tightening around Narcissa's forearm with a bruising grip.
Draco's knuckles turned white as they closed around the Cherry Wand, flashes of memories hitting him like a never-ending assault of bludgers. Impact upon impact. Their force making it impossible for him to react, to think, to breath. To do anything other than watch helplessly as the scenes rushed forward: There was his mother making him swear not to sacrifice his life for her. How her eyes had stayed on him during her impromptu trial, begging him silently to honour his pledge. Lucius calculated cruelty, so similar to the sneer he was sporting right now, as he raised his newly crafted wand. Green light erupting from the tip and hitting Draco's mother straight in the chest. Cold laughter ringing through the night, before she hit the ground. Lifeless eyes staring skywards.
No!
"Tell me, dearest wife, have you enjoyed the pleasure of Severus' company? Did you yearn for his touch when you retired to your chambers at night? Imagined his greasy fingers all over your body? Wished it was him in your bed yesterday and not your rightful husband, whose touch repulses you? You are mine! Mine, Narcissa, do you understand? Mine, to do with as I..."
Enough!
"Confundo oblivionem!"
Purplish grey mist floated into Lucius head, his whole posture deflating as his memories of the last fifteen minutes were altered into a harmless conversation about house allegiances and the sort, allowing Narcissa to gracefully extricate herself from his grasp with a schooled ease that only added to Draco's crippling anger. Thoughts, a hazy turmoil of past and present, rendering him utterly unable to speak, to say something, anything that would miraculously minimise the fallout of his atypically rash actions.
Merlin, what have I done?
His mother's features were frozen in disbelief, mixed with a hint of trepidation that made Draco's chest ache painfully, but also propelled him into action. Words void of any emotion, almost clinical, as his mind sharpened and rapidly refocused on the task of thinking through the ramifications of his ill-timed intervention. "Maman? I need you to lead father to the table where we had breakfast... Or even better the floo chamber... The spell I used is... Let's just say there are certain peculiarities in its execution. He'll need some time to gather his bearings and it would be in our best interest to make the transition as seamless as possible."
She nodded stiffly, giving him a last critical look, before leading her obedient husband from the room. Leaving Draco to his own devices, who was still reeling from the horrible flashbacks, sinking down on the cold marble floor, body slumped against the wall. By the time his mother had returned to the parlour, he had managed to empty his thoughts by employing some basic Occlumency techniques. Rearranging his mental landscape and smoothing out the ripples Lucius threat against Narcissa had caused.
I shouldn't have done that... Salazar, Maman will want an explanation. An answer I'm by no means at liberty to give.
For a short moment he had actually played with the idea of obliviating his mother, followed shortly by a numbing bang of self loathing for even contemplating such a massive invasion in her privacy, without even giving her the chance to react to her son's newly discovered magical aptitude.
It's a lot to process. No shit...
Not to mention the way he had chosen to curse his own father without batting an eyelid, a disconcerting if not even incriminating action at the best of times, regardless of it happening in her defence. He did not want her to be afraid of him.
Never.
Releasing a heavy sigh, he dragged his fingers through his hair, forcing himself to meet his mother's unreadable gaze. "Maman... I... For Salazar's sake, you've got to believe me when I tell you that I didn't plan for this to happen. Not anytime soon and certainly not today, but he was looking at you that way and I couldn't bear the thought of loosing you!"
Not again.
Never again...
His mind screamed at him, as she kneeled down at his side, meeting his stormy eyes as he spoke with increasing fervour. A silent tear leaving a silvery path on her cheek. "He's got no right. No right at all, to treat you the way he does. And damn it I thought I could act as if nothing had changed, but it has... it has... Everything has changed and I won't stand by like a bloody coward while he's abusing you like that. I'm sick and tired of it all. Not when I've got more than enough power to help you! I feel bad enough about going off to Hogwarts and leaving you alone with him, but what difference does it really make if I let him treat you like this when I'm around... When I can prevent it... That's not the kind of wizard. The kind of son, I want to be..."
"Shh, come here, mon cheri..." Arms tightened around him and after the initial shock had subsided, Draco felt himself melt into the safety of his mother's arms. Allowing her relaxing voice to wash some of his worries away. "Now, I want you to listen and listen very closely, Draco! You're the most precious thing I've been granted in my life, and Merlin knows, I probably know you far better than you'll ever give me credit for." At Draco's alarmed expression she chuckled lightly, the sound vibrating softly through her body. "Keep your secrets all you like, darling, I'll trust you to tell me when the time is right, but a mother still knows her child and you've changed far more than I think you've realised yourself!"
Oh...
"I am still your son... You still... c... care for me, don't you?" Draco's voice was hoarse, a broken whisper, not exactly pleading for her acceptance, but for sure not that far off. The desperate fear of his family's rejection, which had plagued him all his youth, once again rearing its ugly head. Insecurities. Like a curse wound that had never truly healed: Lying dormant. Drifting to the surface whenever he was at his most vulnerable.
His mother loosened her grip, leaning away from him until they were eye to eye. Her demonstratively Slytherin green robes rustling across the pristine marble as she stated, face equal parts pained and determined. "Oh darling! That has not and will never be up for debate. Nothing could ever change my love for you. And yet, I've failed you so terribly... When you were born I held you in my arms and swore to myself that I'd never let any harm befall you, that I'd protect you with my life if need be, and now look at you. Barely eleven summers old and already doing the things I should have done years ago. I've failed you, mon cheri, forgive me..."
'I'm proud of you Draco, of the man you have become!'
'The greatest tragedy for a mother is to see her child pass before its time.'
'Don't you dare, Draco Alexander Malfoy, to sacrifice your life for mine. I won't stand for it! Not when I've already failed you more terribly than ought to be acceptable.'
'Promise me, mon cheri! Promise me!'
'How can I promise such a thing, mother? How can you ask me to give you my word, when you know it would destroy me to keep it!'
'But you'd be alive. Alive to see another day. To find the happiness I've never had to offer. Of all my many regrets that's the only one I can't forgive myself. Please, Draco, I beg you! Death is coming to all of us, Draco. Would you deny me my peace so cruelly, when you can offer it so easily. Just a few words to give your mother comfort.'
'For Salazar's sake you know that's not fair...'
'Then that's my cross to bear... If your resentment of me is the prize for keeping you alive then I'm more than prepared to pay it!'
'Please Maman, don't ask this of me! I can't... I can't...'
'You can and you will! Please... mon cheri! If you won't do it for me then do it for all the people whose lives are depending on your survival. The Lovegood girl... Luna, was it? She sometimes called your name in her sleep, you know? And of course there's the other one... The witch who holds your heart...'
'How... how... what do you...?'
'Hush now, some secrets are safer when they remain in the dark. Just don't let me stand in the way of your chance at happiness! It would shatter me, more surely than any curse ever could.'
'They can take care of themselves.'
'In a war no one has bothered preparing them for? Against an enemy who knows neither morals nor mercy? You are far too intelligent for such naïveté! If nothing else, then I've made sure of that...'
'Merlin and Morgane, you've got my word, mother. On my magic, even! But damn it all, if you ever get me in a position where I'm forced to keep it I'll... Just don't, Maman! Please don't! I don't know if I could ever forgive you, much less myself!'
'Avada Kedavra!'
"There's nothing to forgive, Maman... Nothing..." Draco shook his head vehemently, hoping to convey his sincerity. Had his mother's facade of indifference hurt him in the original timeline.
Yes.
Had it taken him time to forgive her for forcing a vow from him, which had damned him to silence, while her own husband had murdered her?
Most certainly.
However, Draco had had a lot of time to brood over the matter, trying to see things from her perspective, how helpless she must have felt. Life irreversibly intertwined with a husband who had little warmth to give and was prone to violent outbursts. Growing up in a family where the Cruciatus had been regarded as a reasonable method of punishment and women were raised to be obedient dolls, not the fierce witches they could have been. Unhealed scars, which were most easily detectable in Bellatrix' wild madness. The girl who had rebelled against the status quo and still ended up shackled to a husband she abhorred. Nonetheless they were equally prominent in Narcissa, the youngest sister and the only one who had bowed to her family's expectations and never explored her potential beyond being the most perfect pureblood wife in existence.
Insofar its actually remarkable how radically my near death has affected her...
"Just promise me to take care of yourself, while I'm gone, Maman. It would go a long way to put me at ease, while I'm away..."
"I promise, Draco... On my magic and my honour." A weak smile curved his mother's lips, as she gracefully lifted herself from the floor and gestured towards the door. Steering the conversation effortlessly towards less emotionally demanding waters, as they stepped into the narrow corridor. "Now, let's meet your father at the floo entrance. Otherwise we'll be too late to stop for a chat with the other families before your train departs and Hyacinthia Parkinson has already expressed her disappointment about the fact that your illness has prevented me from attending our regular tea times. Poor dear, she had been working so hard on gaining my approval for your betrothal to her daughter."
Well, fuck... I already forgot about that!
Not betraying his unease with the topic Narcissa had chosen, Draco hummed with a pensive expression. "I presume you were of a mind to agree to our match? Pansy and I are to be wed? Do I have to prepare myself for courtship, Maman?"
It was bloody weird the last time around and at the time I was not twice her age for Merlin's sake!
"Would that be to your liking, mon cheri? Pansy Ariadne Malfoy... It does have a certain ring to it and as I understand it you are getting along just fine, more than most married couples can claim for themselves." Nothing in his mother's voice gave him any indication of her opinion on the matter, as she threw the question at him. A sly glint entering her eyes, that her son found to be rather unsettling.
Well, no, not really. But to be fair to Pansy, I wouldn't be all too thrilled with any option my mother is likely to suggest. The only woman I could actually picture as my wife hates my guts... To the point that she'd gladly incinerate me on sight, which keeps the chances of there ever being a Hermione Jean Malfoy rather nonexistent!
Resignedly Draco questioned, faithfully reciting the many reasons that had made the Malfoy Parkinson union such a desirable match in the original timeline. Before Pansy's 'untimely and tragic death' their wedding had shaped up to be the event of the century. The symbol of a new generation. "Does my opinion really matter, Maman? Pansy is the uncontested heiress of Lord Parkinson, well except the handful of halfblood cousins no one talks about, since the family has tried their best to keep the 'unworthy' affair tightly under wraps. And whilst her name doesn't hold the prestige of the Greengrasses, whose name is almost as old and noble as our own, at least her family has the necessary wealth to back it up. Unlike Astoria and Daphne, whose parents lack of business acumen has left them with nothing but their good reputation and the estate to recommend themselves."
"Besides, we are of one age. Equal disposition and temperament, paired with impeccable breeding, and even if Pansy loves to anger her mother beyond reason, she will grow to be a remarkable actress. Playing the role of my wife to perfection... They are perhaps a bit too closely intertwined with both my family trees, but then what respectable family isn't nowadays? Father will be pleased when you report Lady Parkinson's interest to him. Securing a third title by rights of marriage will only serve to further cement our dominance in Britain's pureblood society."
To his surprise his mother responded with a light hearted laugh, the high bell-like sound vibrating in the hallway, so contrary to his own gloominess at the prospect. "Gosh, Draco, if I'd really wanted an assessment of all her marriageable commodities I'd have asked her mother over for lunch." Rolling her eyes at her son's antics, she promised, with a wry smirk that was so similar to Severus' usual expression that it momentarily took his breath away. Merlin, those two had obviously spent too much time in each other's company lately. "However, I'll definitely take note of your uh... passionate endorsement of the idea and adjust my actions accordingly... You are both still so young, there's really no need to rush is there? Your father and I weren't engaged until my fifth year."
Lucius might probably disagree on that point. His position within the Ministry is already quite strong but an alliance with the Parkinsons will consolidate his power and open many doors in the World of Wizarding News.
"Your engagement wasn't exactly the most conventional, was it? Both families had formed an agreement way before you were elected to be the Malfoy bride." Scepticism infused Draco's voice, already half resigned to the fact that he would not be able to deal with Lucius, before he had signed off on the contract. Halting his steps right in front of the door to the floo network, Draco ventured, knowing all too well that they would not be able to finish their talk in Lucius presence. "But for what it's worth, I'd be grateful for any delay in the negotiations. Courting rituals can be rather... uh... restricting and I'd very much prefer not having to make a declaration as soon as the Yule celebrations are upon us. As far as I can tell, Pansy would not appreciate it, either..."
Raising one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows his mother regarded him shrewdly. "I'll do what I can, darling! And in return I expect to hear nothing but the best about your progress in your studies. Severus has promised me to keep an eye on you..."
I'd like to see him try...
"Guess, it must have some downsides to be the godson of my future Head of House." Allowing a grin to spread on his face, he opened the heavy oak door, and lowered his head in a playful bow. "After you my Lady."
Narcissa's lips quirked up as she floated into the room, before the cold pureblood mask slipped over her features as if it had never left. Erasing any signs of joy Draco had managed to bring to her face. The pureblooded ice queen once again, as she faced her husband, who was still unusually docile, but recovered enough to play his part on the platform. "Lucius, my dear, we should get going, don't you think? It would not do to let your associates wait and I've neglected my social duties for far too long."
Righting himself, Lucius drawled, completely unaware of the fact that his two favourite victims had only recently conspired against him. "Well, at least there is one thing we can agree on, dearest wife! Draco..." The Lord of Malfoy Manor directed his wife towards the floo entrance. "Don't embarrass me, boy... I promise you, you would not like the consequences!"
Merlin, all the threats are getting old really fucking fast.
Floo powder hit the ground. Green flames engulfed them, prompting Draco to breath out a small sigh of relief, before calling out. "Dobby!" As soon as the small elf popped into the room, Draco's school trunk floating in the air at his side, the blond wizard instructed him hurriedly. "I think it is better if you don't accompany us on the platform, Dobby. Father is in a rather foul mood... You remember our discussion this morning, don't you? The third compartment to the right?"
"Yes, Master Draco, Dobby wills put young master's school things in there. Master Draco can trust Dobby." And with another pop the determined house elf had vanished, prompting Draco to grab some of the floo powder himself, not daring to loose another second before he could rejoin his parents at the wizard's entry to the train station.
"Platform 9 3/4."
Wincing almost imperceptibly at the assault off noises and quick impressions that greeted him upon his arrival, the blonde wizard stepped out of the fireplace at King's Cross. Joining up with his parents, whose expressions were already schooled into the kind of cool aloofness that served to remind the rest of the world that a Malfoy was meant to rule above them all. Wordlessly they made their way towards the end of the train, where most Slytherins tended to choose their compartments, the masses parting in front of them.
"Lord Malfoy..."
"Oh Narcissa, what a pleasure..."
"Have you heard of the new law..."
"We haven't seen you in so long!"
Their delayed arrival caused quite the stir amongst their social circle, attracting way more attention than Draco could remember from the original timeline, where Narcissa had not spent the majority of the summer cooped up in the Manor, while nursing her ill son back to health. Seeing all those supposedly 'powerful' witches and wizards flock to them like the moon calfs he had often secretly compared them to, might have been a tad amusing, if their presence had not felt so terribly overwhelming.
It certainly did not help his adjustment that about half of them had been part of the Dark Lords inner circle, faces Draco recognised from many negotiations and in some cases the revels a lot of the Death Eaters had delighted to participate in. Relishing in the screams of their victims, their malice filled expressions burned into his mind forever. Some of them Draco had even killed himself, a 'stray' curse cast in the confusion of battles where friend and foe had been hard to distinguish.
Well, this year is going to be a blast, no doubt about that!
While Lucius and Narcissa were basking in the limelight, greeting their entourage with magnanimity, Draco let his gaze wander across the hectic coming and going around him, searching for familiar faces amongst the crowd. In the far end a haggle of redheads announced the arrival of the Weasley clan, an unruly mob of raven hair in their midst. Potter, no doubt. Or Harry rather, even if the Boy Who Lived had not bothered to answer the two letters Draco had sent to him, once Dobby had finally managed to find out his address. However, given that Draco had had the utter misfortune of spending the majority of two days observing the shoddy way Harry's muggle relatives treated their young charge, he was halfway inclined not to take it all too personal.
Dumbledore, however, is more of a problem than I had initially thought. Leaving Potter in that hellhole is the very epitome of irresponsibility! It's a bloody miracle he hasn't developed into an obscurial, magic haters that they are...
Two additional scans of his surroundings revealed neither his best friend's dark complexion, nor Granger's bushy hair, which was at least cautiously reassuring.
Good. If our plan is working according to schedule, Blaise has already managed to convince Granger to join us in our compartment... No idea how he's done it, but chapeau I suppose.
Naturally, most of his prospective housemates were standing closest, Pucey and Flint hovering just a few steps away and assessing him with calculating eyes. Pansy and Daphne were a bit further away, talking in a perfect imitation of their mothers, who were engaged in a quiet conversation. The perfect embodiment of the demure pureblood society witches, eight year old Astoria in a frilly little girl's robe completing the pretty picture. Theo, quiet and removed as ever, kept his head lowered, standing not far from his severe looking father, who in turn had engaged Goyle Sr. in a rather one-sided discussion. Generations of inbreeding had done neither the Crabbes nor the Goyles any favours.
Salazar, they are all so terribly young.
Never before had the stark discrepancy between the life he had left behind and the reality he now found himself in, been more apparent. None of these people, friend and foe alike, were the same as the ones he had known in the original timeline. All these children, who, in a few short years would fight, bleed and die in a war... Being shaped into murderous weapons, fleeing the country in the dead of the night or betraying their closest friends. All of them the same and yet different.
How am I supposed to separate the one from the other? To see the people for who they are and not for what they had turned into over the course of the original timeline. To look Theo in the eye and see my childhood friend without the stabbing pain of treachery compromising my judgement?
At least Adrian Pucey, Draco's predecessor as Slytherin's ruler, had turned out to be a rather pleasant surprise under the Dark Lord's regime. A talented wizard, who had grown and matured into a level headed healer, specialising on the modernised treatment of dark curses. Painfully underrated in a cruel world, which favoured the infliction of wounds much more than the process of erasing them.
Nevertheless, Pucey had come to some renown, rising to head healer at St. Mungo's a promotion Draco had endorsed after finding evidence of his former house mate's backroom dealings. Discreetly distributing healing salves amongst the mistreated populace of war prisoners as well as the systematically oppressed muggleborns. All financed with the quite substantial Pucey fortune and later on, generous donations from a mysterious benefactor.
And of course the handful of low-ranks I had to obliviate in order to prevent his secret from being revealed. He wasn't exactly the most careful...
Marcus Flint, though, the utterly inconsequential third cousin of the current Head of House Flint, had ended up killing half his family in pursuit of the title. Not to mention that he had made quite the name of himself, as one of the most ruthless torture master amongst the Dark Lord's forces, second only to Bellatrix herself, compensating his utter lack of magical finesse with brute force. Splintering bones with methodical precision, Draco honestly had not thought him capable of while they had been at school.
Probably better to keep that in the back of my mind...
Buildup resentment had not yet boiled over between Pansy and her mother, the engagement agreement, which Hyacinthia Parkinson had so strongly advocated for, damaging their already strained bond beyond repair. Her family's traditional values clashing with Pansy's modernist aspirations to be a self sufficient witch, not condemned to a lifetime of boredom and pretence. Both her and Daphne still had that air of youthful innocence, which their older versions had long lost, causing Draco's heart to constrict with wistfulness, knowing that what was left of their childlike purity would most likely not survive the years that were to come.
And of course there's Theo...
Seeing his former friend was perhaps the one reacquaintance that caused Draco the most emotional backlash. For him, less than two moths had passed, even if you generously counted the two weeks Draco had spent in feverish delirium, since one of the people he had believed to be above suspicion had tried to sell their best friend to the Dark Lord. Had intentionally condemned Blaise to a painful death, driven by hatred and jealousy. And now his younger likeness was looking at Draco with a flicker of joy lighting up his eyes. So remarkably different from the hate distorted grimace which had made a quite frequent appearance in some of Draco's more recent nightmares.
Perhaps, there's some hope left for him yet...
However, Draco had far more pressing issues than deliberating the chances of preventing Theo's descend into darkness. Namely, dealing with Pucey and Flint in a manner that would establish him as someone, who was, youth and inexperience notwithstanding, more than capable of successfully navigating the intricacies of Slytherin politics. Blaise and Draco had agreed on the importance of building as much influence as possible, within and beyond the borders of Hogwarts, although they were not exactly of one mind regarding the specifics.
Bloody madness, that plan of his...
Instead of trying to impress the two older boys as his younger version might have chosen to do, Draco simply raised one of his eyebrows, automatically issuing a silent challenge. Patiently waiting for them to break first in the quaint little power play they would undoubtedly want to engage in. He was younger, at least in body, so theoretically speaking, ranked significantly lower on the house-intern pecking order. Not even sorted yet, although, given his family history the outcome could basically be treated as a foregone conclusion.
A straight line of Slytherins for at least the last six generations and before that predominantly Slytherin with the occasional outlier in Ravenclaw...
Nevertheless, blood right and familial power were on his side, giving Draco more than enough confidence in his own advantage... Besides, he was an experienced negotiator, well versed in the kind of verbal sparring games Slytherins loved to engage in and for all their grand posturing, Pucey and Flint were not exactly on the same level as the opponents Draco had been handling over the course of his last life. If one of the older Slytherin's broke the tense silence first, which they definitely would, it would theoretically serve to assert Draco's erstwhile dominance over them. Although, basing his claims on Flint's abilities to catch on to the inherent symbolism, was probably kind of a stretch...
Unfortunately, not every Slytherin has been gifted with a minimum of perceptiveness...
"Merry meet, Malfoy." Pucey nodded in acknowledgement, not exactly bowing as would have been the formal way, but Draco had not expected him to. Nothing except the slight twitch in the older boy's throat, betraying his unease with Draco's underhanded handling of their introduction. Flint was looming threateningly at his side, a quiet shadow, for now obviously content to let his friend deal with the annoying first year who was staring at them impassively.
"Merry meet, Pucey. Flint." Draco replied, inclining his head just so and easily affecting an air of entitled arrogance, without allowing himself to drift off into condescension. After everything was said and done, he actually liked Pucey. Flint not so much, but Draco had learned many a thing as a spy under the Dark Lord, and one of the most useful was how to play nice with people whose very presence he found completely and utterly revolting.
Brows furrowing further at the first year's nondescript answer, Pucey stated with a flourish. "Good to see you out and about. My father told me you had quite the summer..."
Well, that's certainly one way to put it...
Sunlight caught on the perfectly polished silver badge, pinned to the chest of his elegantly cut robes, proudly proclaiming Pucey's status as part of Hogwart's prefecture. The status symbol serving as a reminder that Adrian Pucey, who was about to start his fifth year, would make a successful bid for the throne of Slytherin this year. Fifteen was generally considered a good age for such an endeavour, especially since the last wearer of the crown, incidentally one of the nephews of Antonin Dolohov, had conveniently graduated the year before. Four years were sufficient times to build up a good reputation, making contestations of the claim far less likely to occur, whilst the remaining three years guaranteed ample opportunity to leave a mark on the House of Salazar Slytherin. To lay the foundation for a lasting legacy.
Adrian must be desperate to consolidate his power before the rites take their course. He is undeniably intelligent and his family influential enough, but his duelling skills are not exactly up to par. If someone with a halfway decent claim challenges him, he'll most likely loose.
"One could describe it that way, I suppose."
Last time around the ambitious Slytherin had offered Draco a high ranking and more importantly popular position in his court in order to gain his support, a mutually beneficial offer the younger wizard had accepted with pleasure at the time. It had paid off tremendously in the end, allowing him to take over right after the brown haired wizard had left the school. Fourth year, one year younger than his predecessor, even if circumstances had not exactly allowed him much leeway in the utilisation of his newfound power. However, things were different now... The board had changed and drastically at that... For the moment Draco had no reason to rush headfirst into an agreement with Pucey, not when Blaise's crazy idea was still lurking in the back of his mind.
Regardless of the teeny tiny fact that this has never been done before... And Pucey is by no means the worst option imaginable. Positively moderate, or at least as moderate as any pureblood heir can allow himself to be. Intelligent and most importantly malleable, susceptible to outside influence, provided that the manipulator is experienced enough.
Mustering Draco sharply, an unwilling respect colouring his voice the ambitious prefect, replied cordially. "Anyway, it's shaping up to be quite the year, don't you think? Nott, Parkinson, Greengrass and you, Davis, Grabbe and Goyle too, to a lesser extent, all lined up for our house... A powerful circle if you play you cards right, Malfoy. In a few short years, the school could easily be yours. I am sure I can help you with that."
There it is...
Declining the offer was not exactly difficult, however, doing so without throwing Pucey's 'generosity' back in his face. would require some tact. Grinning disarmingly, Draco quipped, quite elegantly avoiding to give a straight answer. "And there I thought Hogwarts was already mine for the taking, what an utter disappointment." A pinch of flattery. "...but of course you'll have a much better understanding than me, Pucey. Between the two of us, you're certainly the more experienced."
Visibly thrown off balance by Draco's sudden change in disposition, Pucey nodded distractedly. "Well, I suppose. Although, I'm sure you'll make a more than worthy addition to our house. You've got all the potential. I could use people like you..." The brown haired teen drifted off, probably remembering the fact that Draco as a first year had no way of knowing about the election, not before his attendance of the first ceremony at the eve of Mabon.
Gotcha...
"I take it you intend to be Damian's successor then?" The blond wizard regarded the fifteen year old expectantly, enjoying the disbelief flashing across Pucey's face at hearing a first year, not even a Slytherin yet, talking so casually about one of Slytherin's well-protected secrets. Vows, old as the castle itself prevented any member of their house from sharing the knowledge about the rites and their meaning, exposing the inner workings of their hierarchy to outsiders. As with most vows, there were loopholes in the wording, though, few and far between, but that was a subject for another time.
"Ambitious." Tilting his head, Draco stated thoughtfully. "Nonetheless, I can actually see why you would be a good choice. I'd say there's no good reason for Salazar to reject you as long as there is no other contestant, but then as I've acknowledged earlier, you'll know best. My validation will weigh little beyond my immediate circle.
"How do..."
"You'll find, that I make it my business to know a good many things, when it comes to the future of my house, Pucey. Flint." Ignoring Flint's exasperated grunt and Pucey's flustered expression, Draco nodded at them respectfully, secure in the knowledge that he had made quite the first impression. "Now, if you two would be so kind to excuse me, I haven't seen my friends for quite some time. I am sure you understand that we have a lot of catching up to do."
Not bothering to wait for their response, Draco turned away, determinedly disregarding the feeling of their eyes boring into his back, as he strolled over to Pansy and Daphne. Keeping his expression cool and aloof just as he knew Lucius expected him to do, despite the fact that Pansy's unadulterated excitement proved to be rather infectious. He had almost forgotten what a fire cracker, his former betrothed had been, up until second year even occasionally in public much to her mother's disapproval.
"Draco! Merlin, you've got no idea how much I've missed you."
"Likewise Panse."
Controlling his flinch as Pansy flung herself at him, arms digging into the barely healed scrapes on his back, Draco greeted the two other girls with a winning smile, inwardly laughing heartily at the indignant shriek Lady Parkinson released upon seeing her daughter's lack of decorum.
"Pansy Ariadne Parkinson!"
"Oh mother, you know how terribly worried we've all been for Draco!" Not even bothering to wait for Hyacinthia's response, the young witch grabbed Draco's arm and began to drag him a bit away until they were out of hearing range from the circle of adults, all the while hissing furiously. "Especially since someone hasn't had the basic human decency to meet up with his friends after his recovery. You didn't actually think the two measly letters you sent would be enough? Daphne and I were worried sick, Draco! Ever thought of us, you insensitive prick?"
Ouch, that actually hurt...
Raising his arms in surrender, Draco took a step back, narrowly avoiding another playful slap, while he chuckled lightly. "I know, I know, Panse. I should've written more often. But I'd have thought I deserve at least some leniency, what with me almost dying and all that... Mother wanted to make sure I was alright before the school year began." Yes, using his near death experience and his mother as an excuse, was perhaps not the morally sound thing to do, but for Nimue's sake, it was not exactly a secret that Pansy could be rather scary when she was on the war path and Slytherins weren't known for their strict adherence to ethical guidelines, anyway...
"Oh don't start with the bullshit, Draco... Otherwise I'll have to go all Tracy Davis on you and we both know how much you detest her constant fawning. Don't you Drakey Poo?" Batting her eyelashes, Pansy actually gave a quite convincing impression of their prospective housemate, including the high pitched squeal that always stung in his ears.
The poor soul had actually ended up married to the cousin of Augustus Rookwood, not a month after the Battle of Hogwarts and had died two years later giving birth to a daughter, who had followed her mother through the veil hardly more than a week later. Augustus had laughed heartily about her fate, all the while complaining that his cousin seemed downtrodden ever since her death. Loss of wife and daughter chipping away at his already questionable sanity.
Misinterpreting the instant distaste flashing across Draco's features, Pansy snickered teasingly, before lowering her voice considerably. A heavy sigh escaping her mouth. "At least mother would be happy, I guess... She's been insufferable. Talking about securing our engagement all summer, even when your mother's letters made me fear for the worst. Droning on and on about being more affectionate with you, not constantly embarrassing her with my impropriety."
That's a contradiction if I ever heard one... Pansy is one of the most touchy feely pureblood girls in existence! Being any more affectionate would breach more rules of societal conduct than Lady Parkinson could bear without suffering a heart attack!
"Well, your mother has never been one for tact, Panse, but I'm honoured to hear how much you care about my wellbeing, even if the prospect of being my future wife doesn't seem to agree with you all that much..." Feigning hurt, Draco placed his hand above his heart, deliberately toning down the self deprecating irony in his voice... Just in case he had miscalculated and Pansy was actually interested in him as a marriageable prospect, if only to appease her mother's near obsession with the subject.
Scrunching up her nose the witch at his side said carelessly. "It's more of a general aversion against having no say at all in the selection of my future husband. Given the alternatives, you are actually not half bad, Draco. Just imagine me with Crabbe, Goyle or even Theo. I'd certainly die an early death... Struck down by excessive boredom." She leaned forward her tone a convincing meld of self absorbance and aristocratic snottiness. "It would be such a shame to deprive the world of my fabulous personality. How ever would you all cope?"
Before Draco could even think of an appropriate response, an energetic voice interrupted their banter. "Gosh, Pansy what's with the theatrics today? Besides, keeping Draco all for yourself isn't fair to the rest of us. We've missed him too, isn't that right Astoria?"
Daphne!
Astoria, a sweet, almost angelic girl, golden locks falling down on the puffy arms of her dressrobes, clung to her sisters side as if her life depended on it, causing a small sliver of pride to grow in Draco's chest. After all he had managed to prevent her marriage to one of the Death Eater in their last life. Despite her almost palpable unease, the little witch managed a shy nod in Draco's and Pansy's direction, supporting her sister's claims before burrowing her face even deeper into the softness of Pansy's black Hogwarts robes.
"My apologies, Daphne, Astoria. I didn't want you to feel neglected. Pansy just wanted to scold me in private for my lack of decent correspondence. Think you can forgive me too? Starting my Hogwarts year with not one but two vicious witches planning my demise, doesn't sound like a good idea, now that I think about it..." His joke earned him a smile from the two witches and a quick glance of Astoria as she extricated herself from her sister's side, even if she remained a bit behind, not comfortable enough with facing the group head on.
"It's all water under the bridge... You've survived and I think I am speaking for all of us, when I say that's all that matters!" Giving Pansy a pointed look, who had doubtlessly been about to say something to the opposite effect, Daphne reached for his other arm and linked it with her own. Steering the whole group towards their parents, leaning closer to Draco's ear as she let a hint of mischievousness shine through her demure facade. "Now, let's see if we can't get rid of your 'faithful' bodyguards... I've absolutely no interest in suffering their presence, not when there's so much to talk about. Pansy is right on that account, it has been ages Draco."
Years, quite literally...
"Of course I'm right! I always am..."
Smiling lightly at Pansy's protest, the three of them headed to their parents, saying their goodbyes with all the stilted formality, that was common on such occasions. Children acting out a play that had been scripted centuries ago. Any heartfelt sentiments, hidden beneath a thick layer of outward haughtiness and indifference. Reminders to do the family proud, followed by reassurances and more bows and curtsies than anyone could find tolerable in an exchange between parents and their children. Draco's mother held herself with poise, the warmth in her eyes conveying everything that had to remain unsaid.
Once aboard the train, a heated discussion broke out amongst their group regarding seating arrangements, a battle Draco left to the two girls who eventually ended any discussion by claiming one compartment for themselves, Draco and Theo, which left Tracy Davis, Millie Bullstrode, Crabbe and Goyle as part of the second group. A solution that was, perhaps with the exception of Theo, more than acceptable, not that Draco intended to spent much time in the compartment, anyway. Guilt over leaving the girls to their own devices be damned, but he had some urgent business to attend to...
I'll find a way make it up to them somehow. Let them play with Atalanta or something like that...
They had barely settled into their compartment, before the train began moving, wheels turning and the steady sound of the old machinery filling the air. Their departure from the station prompting Draco to excuse himself, claiming he had some errands to run and besides, or so he said, he needed to retrieve his luggage from the compartment where Dobby had stored it away.
At first he could virtually see the protest forming on Pansy's lips, who was, even at the tender age of eleven, far too intelligent to buy into his excuse, while Daphne and even Theo were giving a good impression of being only slightly disappointed at their best friend's plan to suddenly disappear on them. Not as if they had already suffered through weeks of sparse correspondence... However, when Draco met Pansy's stormy gaze, silently asking for her understanding, her lips thinned before she waved him off.
"Then go if you must! But you owe us all big time, Draco... Hogwarts is supposed to be our... It's supposed to be different, you know? Of course there'll be expectations that need to be upheld, in public hopefully more so than in private, but we'll have more freedom than at any other time in our life. Promise me you won't forget that."
'Finding happiness and pleasing your father aren't two mutually exclusive concepts, you know?'
'Aren't they, Panse? I'll never be enough. I've never been...'
'I...'
'Forget it... I'm just feeling sorry for myself. Let's grab a bite... You can give your best Tracy Davis impression and I can pretend that the little scratch from that stupid oversized chicken was dangerously close to ending my life, not the festering remnant of a curse wound father didn't bother to heal properly. What a joy!'
'Well, then come on Drakey Poo, wouldn't want to disappoint our fans. Perhaps this time, I actually get Blaise to spit out his dinner.'
"I won't forget... Dungeon exploration sometime this week? Can't hurt to learn about our new home, can it? Perhaps, I'll convince Atalanta to join us, she's been quite eager to meet all of you!" And before Pansy could bombard him with any questions, Draco stepped out of the door as quickly as possibly, not really caring for his surroundings while he was quickly making his way to the compartment Blaise and he had chosen for their negotiation with Granger.
A negotiation, which could quite easily end in a duel, given our recent track record...
Nervousness pooled in Draco's stomach, probably making him less observant than he usually would have been, otherwise he could not rightly explain to himself, how on earth he had managed to run straight into another student about halfway through the train. "Oy, look where you're..." Any comment died in his throat as he looked into the terrified eyes of the first year in front of him. It took him far longer than he would have normally expected to recognise the boy, baby fat and all, chubbiness replacing the war torn gauntness of Neville Longbottom as Draco remembered him.
Thankfully.
Had he looked anymore like his older self, Draco had an uncomfortable feeling that the memories of the other wizard's death would have come crashing down on him. As it was, Longbottom's tortured screams were ringing in his ears and it took him a moment to compose himself, while the chubby boy was scrambling back, fearful blue eyes fixed on the wand Draco held tightly in his grasp. "I am... so...sor... sorry." Only held back by the respect he felt for Longbottom, well, the adult one at least, Draco suppressed an exasperated eye roll and slowly stowed his wand away. Would not exactly be the best way to make reparations by scaring the poor sod senseless.
Damn, sometimes those reflexes do more harm than good.
"Merry meet. We haven't been introduced, yet, but you are Neville Longbottom, I presume? I'm Draco." No bowing this time and no attempt at shaking hands. Cool politeness was almost more friendliness than Draco could allow himself at this point in time, seeing as he was dealing with the scion of a light affiliated family, one with a blood feud against his aunt no less. Anything else had the potential of compromising his position, but nonetheless he felt like he owed it the remarkable wizard this scared boy would one day become, to treat him with a modicum of respect.
Doesn't mean it makes his current bumbling in any way more tolerable...
"I... I know, who... who you are, Malfoy!"
Accusal darkened Longbottom's face and Draco almost growled in frustration. Yes, for Merlins sake, he was all too intimately aware that a good portion of his extended family were murderous bastards. The very worst examples of depravity humanity had to offer, people who got off on torturing innocents and hero worshipped a genocidal maniac, however, at the risk of repeating himself... he was fucking eleven. For all everyone else knew, he had been barely older than a year when Bellatrix had attacked the Longbottom family, a toddler really... Being treated like evil incarnate got tired very fast, especially since he himself had also suffered through years of Bellatrix torture.
"Good." Not knowing what else to say, Draco sidestepped and was already a few steps ahead, when he realised why exactly Longbottom was stumbling through the corridor, notably lacking the chattering company of an exuberant bushy haired witch. Granger. Of course... Without her help, Longbottom was scouring the corridor all on his own and Draco dreaded to think about the reception the Slytherin portion of the train would give the stuttering mess of a first year, he had just encountered. And of course Draco knew what the curly haired brunette would want him to do, even if any friendly interaction with Longbottom was tantamount to social suicide at this point in time...
Inwardly cursing Granger, for inadvertently turning him into a sentimental mess, Draco concentrated really hard, trying to remember what kind of amphibian companion Longbottom had been searching the last time around. Frog or toad?
Accio Longbottom's toad.
It did not take more than a few seconds until the mudcoloured animal landed in Draco's outstretched hand and... Ugh... He honestly could not for the life of him figure out why anyone would go for a toad, when they could have the fluffy majesty that was Atalanta, with her predatory grace and, something he would not be caught dead admitting out loud, adorable cuddliness. But then to each his own, he supposed. Draco was just grateful the blasted thing had not passed Longbottom on its way, saving him the indescribable awkwardness of explaining why he would use a fifth year spell in order to summon the pet toad of a boy, who should be pretty high on his list of undesirables at the moment.
Not to forget that Longbottom hasn't even mentioned that he was searching for it...
"Longbottom? This ugly thing yours, perchance?"
What? Civility has its limits, where cold and slimy things are concerned!
The toad made a contended sound before jumping out of Draco's hands and towards the young boy.. "Trevor!"
Relief obviously temporarily outweighing his distrust, Longbottom trotted back, not meeting Draco's eyes as he grabbed the muddy brown amphibian with a muttered. "T... thank you, Malfoy."
"Let's just agree to forget it, Longbottom. Slytherins and Gryffindors have little reason to be friendly with each other. Never mind the son of Alice and Frank Longbottom with the nephew of Bellatrix Lestrange." With those words Draco turned away, only half listening to Longbottom's incredulous question that followed him down the corridor, quite convinced that it was not meant for his ears anyway.
"Slytherins and... Gryffindors?"
Perhaps the truest of them all!