Summary: He was taught to hate her, but she defied every obstacle laid in her path. The Gryffindor Golden Girl and the sanctimonious Slytherin supremist. The most unlikely of romances and how the seeds were sown. It was all too sudden and yet so very gradual. When did the lines between damnation, duty, and desire blur?
This is a slowburn and I will try to be as canon compliant as possible. Please leave a review, they are always appreciated!
"Bested by a lowly little muggleborn parasite Salazar, it's pathetic Draco'' his father bit out acidly to the eleven year old. The fair haired boy kept his gaze downcast willing his lip not to tremble. Draco held his posture lest he incite his father's anger further.
Bloody Granger! he cursed to the four founders.
Hermione Granger had top marks in all their shared classes and to say that Lucius Malfoy was disappointed with his only son would be a most grievous understatement. Draco was by no means academically lacking, trailing behind Granger in close second. But being surpassed by a muggle born is no better than last place in his father's eyes.
Lucius continued to circle around Draco like a buzzard to a maggot infested carrion. His steps were almost rhythmic in their evenness. Lucius Malfoy was the very picture of nobility, his platinum locks neatly secured at the nape of his neck, broad shoulders squared, and hands clasped behind his back.
"Lucius-Dear," Narcissa Malfoy tried to interject on behalf of her son from the other side of the large, regal drawing room.
"Do keep your asinine dribble to yourself Narcissa!" Lucius' outburst bounced off the ornate walls. His grey eyes crackled like an angry thunderstorm.
Narcissa Malfoy nee Black faltered minutely. She took a step backwards and hung her head in subservience like the obedient, pure-blooded wife she was meant to be. Draco was helpless and immovable, unable to defend his mother in fear for her safety as well as his own.
The youngest Malfoy had slowly noticed how his mother's lovely dark hair had faded and whitened over the recent months. Her beautiful face had grown the slightest bit fatigued. When Draco would find himself the cause of his father's ire it was his mother who mediated Lucius's violent temper. Playing peacekeeper was visibly taking its toll on the Malfoy matriarch and Draco felt at fault.
"The boy is coddled, you've been far too lenient" Lucius censured his ashen wife.
"I'll issue more punishments, I shall discipline him! Draco will learn the error of his ways Lucius. I swear it to the Gods!" Narcissa pleaded with her blue eyes already shiny.
She knew the brunt of her husband's callousness far too well, but daren't move. Fraught with nerves, Narcissa helplessly wrung her fingers together battling the need to reach for her son.
Draco felt his hair stand on end and his lunch roil in his stomach. His large grey eyes mirrored his fathers in color, but not in depth. A kaleidoscope of emotions swirled in them as he seeked his mother's presence for security. All Narcissa could offer was a silent plea to Merlin and Morgana that Lucius be merciful. Sadly that was the extent of Cissa's powers these days.
"You are the heir of not one but two pureblooded lines, Draco. Centuries of prestige and tradition weigh on our lineage." Lucius soliloquized as young Draco held his father's frigid gaze. Lucius paused in front of Draco, placing a heavy hand on the boy's shoulder stressing the prominence of being bred into such an ancient bloodline.
"You will not tarnish the Malfoy name. And you will NOT be surpassed by a filthy, little mudblood!" Lucius left no room for negotiation in his loud tirade.
The statement came out as a threat that warned suffering for anything less than perfect. Those words were carved into every alcove of the Draco's memory, eyes stinging from fighting tears. The boy was afraid.
Then as if viewing foggy memories through a pensieve, he observed his father deftly pull his wand from his ebony walking-stick. Narcissa's eyes dilated to the size of galleons watching her husband shift into a duelling stance, a scream dying on her lips.
"In the future I do so hope you'll think twice before displeasing me" Lucius regarded Draco absently as if he were seeing through the boy. Malfoy Senior looked far away and removed, the set of his brow severe. This would be Draco's inauguration into the world of maliciousness and misery that came with being a pureblood prince.
Narcissa let out an unladylike shriek as she tried to dash the distance of the drawing room in seconds. Draco was paralyzed in cold horror and could not manage to lift his little feet. It was like a herd of Hippogriffs took shelter in his shoes.
"Stupefy!" Lucius bellowed. His elm wood wand pointed at his own flesh and blood.
The wicked flash of light engulfed Draco in an instant. The magic immobilized him and covered his body like a heavy wave dragging him into unconsciousness. The last thought that flitted through Draco's head as the darkness pulled at him was of a mop of chestnut colored curls, and a swotty voice well chuffed discerning the correct pronunciation of leviosa.
That was the first lesson Lucius Malfoy taught to his son about Mudbloods. The seeds of bigotry and superiority were planted now. Through the Summer it grew roots and was fed by the rest of their pureblood circle.
At the Greengrass family's Summer Solistice soiree the gossip mongers were out in full force. The lastest disgrace being discussed was of the Flints' eldest son, Mattias, running off with some muggle girl while on holiday.
"Apparently, Mattias was seduced away by some muggle-born trollop in the States. How absolutely scandalous!" Mrs. Greengrass puffed.
To Draco she looked like an overgrown flamingo in her gaudy bright pink robes, all the feathers on it resembled plummage.
"Disgraceful-"
"...Mudwallower"
"Blood-traitor..."
The rest of the dinner party voiced their discontent all wearing similar looks of disdain and pity. Draco listened on their adult conversation while tugging at his itching shirt collar, soaking up their information.
"The Flint's have half a mind to send their youngest over to Durmstrang" Lord Phineas Parkinson added.
Lord Parkinson's daughter, Petunia or Peony or some other- hadn't stopped making moony eyes at Draco and the young boy was sorely tempted to lob a carrot at her.
"Such a pure line destined to be tainted by that harlot's dirty magic." Mrs. Greengrass ruffled on further.
"Their half-breed spawn will undoubtedly be horribly deformed" Mr. Greengrass supplied.
There were some aggravated grunts of concession. The descriptions were lodged into Draco's brain.
Sat with other children his age, Lucius ordered Draco to aquaint himself with good company. The terrifying picture of mudbloods was further embeded into his subconscious when Crabbe and Goyle junior warned Draco that all mudbloods had horns like a bicorn and fangs as large as a basilisks.
"Why'd you think that Granger swot has such bushy hair- it's to hide her horns" the Parkinson girl suggested.
Crabbe nodded his agreement while plucking with grubby fingers at the remnants of his roast pheasant. Draco gulped in fear.
Later that same evening, Draco would suffer night terrors of faceless horned monsters out to steal his magic and corrupt his blood.
Author's Note: I wanted to lay the foundation of prejudice, because I personally see bigotry as a learned behavior. It makes sense that Draco was taught from an early age that muggle-borns, half-bloods, and muggles were inherently inferior.