PROLOGUE: In Another World
It is a rare sight to see, someone like Lord Lucius Malfoy, gentle and whispering soothing loving words, cuddled to a witch. But the aristocratic haughty facade of the pureblood Lord shatters at witnessing the love of his life, his wife, Lady Narcissa Malfoy née Black, looking so resigned and distraught.
A man who barely shows any weakness or emotions aside from his cool and passive facade. High and mighty, pompous and arrogant, just how the late Lord Abraxas raised him to be. The perfect persona of a pureblood nobility, never bowing down to anyone, nose turned upright always.
Yet deep in their opulent master's suite just as the sun starts to set, emotions are on full display. Narcissa Malfoy, her elegance and grace. Pristine opal robes in disarray, her shoulders trembling slightly, tears silently flowing down her pale cheeks. Pureblood customs forgotten. But how could they not, the healer said it all.
She blames herself for having a body too weak. Defective, just like what Grandfather Lord Pollux called her mother, for having too many daughters. Another miscarriage, and her body won't be able to take it anymore.
And he… he blames himself, because his pure blood is just that - a label. Their blood cannot produce a healthy heir. He mentally scoffs. He is not ignorant, there is a reason inbreeding is frowned upon. Wizards think themselves above muggles, but it was the latter that made the scientific discovery. More and more squibs are born these days. Witches and wizards born with weak magic, or worse mentally insane, his sister-in-law can attest to that.
That is why on the autumn night of October, Lord Lucius held his trembling wife. Being the strength that she needs, praying to any deity, that this pregnancy is not another failure.
…
Narcissa leans her head on her husbands shoulder, admiring the view in front of her. No one would believe that a man such as Lucius is capable of showing such a soft-hearted smile. She chuckles at the image, Abraxas would not be pleased with such gestures.
Lucius' love and admiration for her grows tenfold. She could not have given him a more perfect gift, his very own heir. Seeing the splatter of pale blonde hair atop his son's head, Lucius cannot be anymore proud at that moment. He looks at his wife, a bit exhausted and pale, but still glowing postpartum. He pays no head to the healers moving about and settles himself beside his wife.
"Draco" Lucius started softly. "Named after the constellation from the far northern sky".
"My little dragon" Narcissa smiles. She did not miss that he honored the black family tradition.
He vows from that day on that he would move the heavens and earth for them.
…
They did not care if their son would grow up rumbustious or loud, messy or arrogant, their son is after all someway related to one Sirius Black (besides they have house elves to clean up after). He may end up a compassionate fruit getting sorted into Hufflepuff, but they have vowed to love and care for him, to show him compassion and teach him respect and understanding. Lessons far from the traditional teachings for a proper pureblood heir of The House of Malfoy and by extension House of Black. They were both prepared to face any backlash coming from their social circles. But they hold their heads high, proud of their son no matter who he will become. They are the Lords and Lady of the Great and Noble House of Malfoy and they do not bow down to anyone, any ridicule against them and their son is a slight to the noble family that no other wizarding family wants to cross.
What they did not prepare for was this, it took them quite a bit off balance actually. They prepared for mess, for defiance, for loud cries, and even spit-ups and vomits here and there. But not this.
Lucius stares at his 5 year old son, sitting with them in the formal dining table. His mini blue robes, pristine and flattened to perfection. Not a speck in place. Using his small wizard's knife and fork, the boy carefully dices one face of his mango, the tropical fruit he brought home from his latest business trip in India. Slice, dice, picks, and then chews silently.
The couple looks at each other, a silent conversation going on, made only possible by their years of marriage. A cough disrupts their thoughts.
"I am finished with my meal father, may I pleased be excused now?" The little boy addresses him. It was like talking to his constituents from the Ministry in one of his formal business meetings. "Of course son, you are free to leave" mentally berating his self for such a curt reply.
Standing gracefully, the little boy rounds the table. "Lovely dinner as always mother, should you need me I will be in the library" he says before giving her a chaste kiss on the cheek.
Once out of ear shot, Lucius releases an exasperated sigh. "Well, you have to admit Lu. It is quite endearing to see him act such a gentleman towards us." A tiny smirk gracing his wife's face. The term of endearment doesn't escape him. He snorts. Gentleman? Who were they kidding, it was like having dinner with the Minister. No.. that was an insult, the Minister is in no way as proper and courteous as his son.
Their son was perfect, only too-bloody-perfect. He barely cried as a toddler, made little to no mess, never made a fuss or spilled milk. Even he, who was raised by Abraxas was sure has tripped once or twice. He may have gotten a beating from it, but he would not be the graceful man that he is now. It takes such an upbringing to stand like the regal man he is. But he did vow to himself that he will not be the same man as his father, especially not to his son.
He will not admit it, but it took quite a bit of his pride, when his son, his only heir, does not even ask for his help - for anything. As a toddler, he never asked to be carried, once he knew how to walk he was set on his own way. Disappointed, Lucius was actually looking forward to teaching his son how to read, to ride his first beginners broom, to formally bow in the presence of a witch, and even tie that little bow tie on his robes. But he never got to do that. He learned early on that Draco is a very observant child, and an exceedingly fast learner. When they started reading to him as a baby, he just looked on, silently observing. Lucius thinks Draco could read lips too, but that's just absurd. He's 5 for Merlin's sake!
Narcissa reaches her husbands arm, a gesture like a supporting caress, rattling him from his reverie. She smiles at him softly, knowing exactly what's going on in his mind. They have a brilliant child, always polite, courteous, truly independent, with very impeccable manners. It would be such an endearing sight to see, if only their child was not a 5 year old boy. She mentally gripes. What concerns her more is that he never socializes with any children from their circle. Still, she could not fault her son, judging by his maturity, those children can be quite loud and messy. The only time they felt like their son was "disobedient" was when they saw him one morning down at the kitchens. Trying to cook! That set the elves.
Dabbing the corners of her mouth and setting the napkin by the table. She calls to Lucius. "Shall we retire to your study?" It was more a request than a question. Helping his wife stand from her seat, he realizes that they couldn't really blame Draco for his matured demeanor. They were not really the care-free loving parents. They certainly were not the Potters, and definitely NOT the Weasleys! (He mentally spat) They are pureblood aristocrats with ingrained pureblood traits down to their very core. So it really shouldn't surprise them to see that Draco is growing up to be the perfect pureblood heir. But it wasn't just his perfect table manners or his perceptive behavior that bothers him, the boy even knows his way around social niceties (which pleases the other pureblood parents, setting the standards high for their own children). No, it was because his son was a recluse. He did not bother with making friends or have acquaintances just as a slytherin would; he did not care for materialistic indulgences, he just says a polite "thank you, father" every time they give him presents. He has never shown any other emotion, always polite and passive.
Pouring his self two fingers of fire whiskey on each glass, he hands one to his wife.
Narcissa perches herself in the chaise, the image of elegance and beauty. Her thoughts on her son, the quintessential Slytherin. Her son who barely gets angry, never shouted in defiance, never out of place. But it is what she has never seen in him that truly breaks her heart, she has never heard her son laugh. A true genuine laugh. Not a cry nor a snicker. Come to think of it, she never even heard him hiccup.
She envies the way that red head muggleborn carries her son in Diagon Alley, the shaggy haired boy always laughing, cuddling to his mother. The only term of endearment she ever receives from her son was the nightly chaste kiss she gets after dinner. She had to admit, it was quite sad. She needed a plan.
Lucius looks at his wife, a knowing determined look passes her face. He knows that look, and he knows when she wants it she will have it. She may have been a Black once, but a Malfoy gets what a Malfoy wants.
"Something on your mind Dear?" Lucius chuckles, her determined look turns into pure delight. He has a feeling she will ask something big from him. But how could he refuse her, didn't he just say he will move the heavens and earth for his family.
"Maybe we have outgrown Britain darling?" Addressing Lucius, taking small sips from her firewhiskey, warming her throat. "Perhaps a change of scenery is in order. They said France is quite becoming these days. Did you know they offer formal schooling for younger children? I heard whispers of this French couple who introduced the muggle educational system to their Ministry. It has become a hit apparently."
Lucius looks at his tumbler, the chandelier's light dancing on the hazel colored drink. He was deep in thought. A permanent move to another country. The Malfoys may have come from France centuries ago, but the Manor in Wiltshire has housed generations of Malfoys. This is a major decision, one that would set the fate of the Malfoy line in a different path. He was sure the move to a different country will deviate his son from attending Hogwarts, Narcissa would not like him faraway from her. True it is easy to acquire international floo connection for when he is needed in the Wizengamot or in the Ministry. He doesn't even need to be in the Malfoy Incorporated Office all the time. He can even put up a new office in France, maybe in Paris at the heart of Montmartre - the country's wizarding district. He did like walking thru the streets of Rue Girardon with his wife.
He thought about his son. Is it worth it to make such a big move? It is true the French Ministry has made noteworthy advancements in their legislations, and they do not shy away from integrating some muggle culture into the wizarding world. He has heard of this French couple, how could he not, his father has despised the audacious couple that the once paterfamilia forbid them from visiting the chateau in Bordeaux or the summer french villa in Antibes. He actually disagrees, he thinks they were quite inspirational and refreshing - something Wizarding Britain badly needs.
Maybe this is the change that they needed. What was he waiting for? His father is long beyond the veil, has been food for worms for 7 years now. He can now make bold decisions as head of the house. Finally making a decision, he smiles at his wife. "Nous devrions rafraîchir notre français, mon cher."
Narcissa giggles. "Bien sûr mon cher mari."
...
It was a nice change, the french weather a welcomed consequence. Once pale skin, now glowing compliments of the temps magnifique. The villa in Antibes, located in the cliffs of La baie de Crésusisprivate and secluded away from the muggles (or the pas de magi as the french call them) and moreso the touristes embêtants. A vineyard adjoins the villa and to its west a lodge and stable that houses the magnificent Malfoy Abraxans. In the middle a courtyard that leads to the villa's grand garden with channels that connects to the bay.
It was a beautiful Saturday morning in the middle of french summer, and Narcissa took the opportunity to take the family on a picnic in the nearby coast. It was one of the private coasts near Crésus, muggles tend to stay away from it due to it's long trek from the nearest fisher's village. But wizards do not bother themselves with cars or long travels.
Sitting primly on top of the red and white gingham blanket, Narcissa looks over her son. Her little dragon was reading a book. Maximillius, his new Rottweiler puppy, trying to get his attention. The black pup was a nice distraction, his son tends to be more playful with him. But they know it wasn't enough, he was still closed-off and if not sometimes withdrawn. They catch him looking out the banks of water under the cliff, solemn and deep in though. Lucius thinks the boy might jump one day. However she is not deterred. She knows her son, he may not be as expressive as the other children but she tries to interpret every tick, jaws tightened, stiff back, or even the tiny quirk of his lip. Now she can see her son seems more relaxed, more carefree, especially when he goes running with the brute dog in the morning.
She continues to read her book by french inventor Erik Stroulger, it was quite the fascinating read, the man has incorporated magic to most modern era technology by muggles. A mobile phone dose come quite handy and honestly better than those two-way mirror she secretly has with Andromeda. Not everyone can cast a patronus, and it's not really ideal when in the presence of muggles. She doesn't even want to mention wizarding owls or the floo. Stroulger has invented a simpler and more convenient version than its bulky muggle counterpart, does not rely on battery and can call other mobiles anywhere in the world. She uses it often, more so now since Lucius occasionally floo to London. Though Lucius does despise the thing, said its gaudy and lacks novelty, but she knows he secretly loves it. She smirk, Lucius tends to be overly dramatic.
Narcissa looks up from her book and notices a distinct lack of blonde hair under the tree. Her son was not by the tree. Anxiety fills her, Draco never miss to inform them if he is leaving their presence. She feels her locket, a Malfoy heirloom given by Lucius after giving her birth to Draco, and sends a distress call to her husband. She does not detect any harm, but she's still anxious to find her son. Feeding her magic into the locket, she tries to locate the boy. She knows he is near, but she can't seem to find him.
{Why Am I wearing a crown too?} the little boy asks. Narcissa halts in her search, she was quite sure he sounded like he's pouting.
{Because you're the prince!} another small voice said a matter-of-factly.
The mother rounds the shrub and sees her son, a small gasp escaping her mouth. There by the small clearing under the same tree. Her son, arms crossed, tapping his foot impatiently, a sour pout on his face. But he didn't seem angry, he looks actually amused by the little girls antics.
The girl, with most riotous curls she has ever seen, is sporting the same floral crown that barely sits on top of her was giggling while placing the offending head piece to her son. Her son who's letting another child play with him!
She was lost at what to do, here her son finally playing with a child his age! But the girl looks like a muggle. They might have come to terms that the French are more accepting towards muggles (well, more her than Lucius), but they are still partial with interacting with their kind. If her son befriends a muggle, they will have a hard time hiding their true nature. She is willing to provide anything for Draco, but they are not above the Statute of Secrecy.
{But I am a Dragon, always am! Named after it, after all..} Draco drawled, her son not liking the current role he's playing.
{Nooo, right now you're the prince, and Maxi here is the dragon! Isn't that right Maxi?!"} a cooing voice addresses the dog.
{It's Maximillius! Do not give him a poncy nickname!}
Suddenly, the unexpected thing happened. The girl, no a little witch, wandlessly charmed the fallen leaves into little dragon wings. The dog, excited about the small human, wags its tail and lets the girl strap the leafy wings on his back.
{Huh, I did not take you for a damsel in distress waiting to be saved by the prince.} Her son smirks, jesting the little witch.
{Who said about my person being saved?} The little girl counters, narrowed eyes hands on her hips. She is quite the bossy little thing, making Narcissa chuckle.
{I am the mother of dragons, and we will take flight to attack your kingdom!} Little fingers pointing accusingly at her son. Maximillius, agreeing with the witch starts barking around charging after Draco.
{That sounds extremely familiar… Very well then!} Then just like the witch, her son charmed some sticks to make a faux sword running after the girl. Laughing and screaming, her son finally acting like a child.
And so the two children and an overexcited dog runs around the clearing towards the beach, spraying each other with its cool water. Glassy eyed, Narcissa couldn't even be any happier than this. She finally hears a true joyful laugh from her son, not the polite chuckle she usually hears which she is so sure he does just to humour her.
Lucius joins her wife, arriving at the coast after being alerted by the distress signal. He too saw the amazing display his son was showing. Not to mention the children's ease with their magic. He tries to think of days where his son ever had a magical outburst, but he remembers none. Just small acts of levitation here and there assured him his son was no squib.
"She is a muggleborn Narcissa, she came with her parents from the sail boat on the other side of the shore" He pointed to a small white sailboat, berth at a wooden dock. Probably placed by muggles who wishes to visit the secluded area.
Narcissa looks at her husband in the eyes, searching for any signs of apprehension. But all she saw was the same soft loving look only reserved for her and their son.
Lucius may have been raised by Abraxas, but he is not the same muggle hater like his father. Living in France too has distorted his prejudiced perspective. He even introduced some of the French legislations to the Wizengamot, which earned a surprising approval from most of the 28.
There is no open oppression, no pureblood propaganda, no dark lord to cower in fear to. After Grindewald's defeat, the wizarding world is in a moments peace. There are still some purebloods who blatantly show their disgust towards half bloods, blood traitors and muggleborns, calling them scum of the earth or mudbloods. He knows the LeStrange are among those families. But to do so today is an act of social suicide, lest you want to become the social pariahs.
Thankfully they are in France now. The girl may be a pas de magi, but he will be damned if someone takes his son's happiness.
"Come Love, Jilly has prepared an assortment of pâtisserie for us." The couple sits back down in their picnics, admiring the view before them. They see the children retreating back to the tree, probably for a breather.
Unbeknownst to the regal couple. Under the shade of the tree.
Draco touches Hermione's face and whispers "My love", while Hermione sighs "My life". The young ones looks of relief was not seen by the older couple.
End scene.
...
...
AN: Welcome to another fic. As you can notice, my fics are mostly hermione centric. Honestly it's only because I feel like she's my spirit animal. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a smart bookworm. I'm more of the girl who has sacrificed so much for one guy, only for that guy to end up with a redhead chit. I really don't understand why would JKR let Hermione save Harry multiple times, stand-up for him, become his personal owl, do his research, gets cursed and tortured, and also obliviate her parents just so she can fully join him in the hunt, ONLY for Harry to end up with Ginny. How on earth she ended up with Ron, confuses me. As for Draco, unfortunately I'm a sucker for bad guys.
Anyway here are some translations courtesy of google translate:
~ Nous devrions rafraîchir notre français, mon cher. (We should refresh our French, my dear.)
~ Bien sûr mon cher mari (Of course my dear husband)
~ temps magnifique (beautiful weather)
~ La baie de Crésus (Croesus Bay in representation of Billionares Bay in Antibes; the term "rich as Croesus" just means filthy rich - fits the Malfoys?)
~ touristes embetants (pesky tourists)
~ pas de magi (without magic)
{Sentences written like these are in -supposedly- french. It is not my natural language therefore I don't want to keep translating them so much, french is such a beautiful language that i feel like i do it no justice when i google translate it. So let's just pretend this is french, yeah?}
OC: Erik Stroulger - descendant from Edgar Stroulger inventor of sneakoscope.
Wizarding Facts according to HP wiki:
Montmartre is a wizarding district located in Paris, France that has a Magical Bronze Statue that is the entrance to Place Cachée.
Rue Girardon is one of the streets in the Montmartre district.
Also, I just assumed the Malfoy's has 2 French estates. One in Bordeaux and the summer villa in Antibes - where they are currently staying. 'Cause why the hell not?
So this is just the Prologue, albeit a long one. Hopefully I can post the next chapter soon. Really excited about this story and still don't know how it will go in the long run, so please bear with me!
Jusqu'à la prochaine fois!
…
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine but the plot.