A/N: I do not own any recognisable characters in this story, and J.K
Rowling must be acknowledged for her excellent books, which inspired me to
write the following story.
This fic was originally going to be titled 'Daughters and Lovers', inspired by D.H Lawrence's book title 'Sons and Lovers'. However I abandoned it in case it gave any reader the wrong impression. There is no slash or incest in this story.
The heroine's name is pronounced 'Dray - cone - iss' (Draconis)
Any reviews will be gratefully received and I will consider each one carefully.
***************************
I enrolled at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry upon my coming of age. Naturally, I was sorted into Slytherin. The hat never even touched my head - the name of the house that each and every generation of Malfoy had presided over rang out clear as a bell across the hall. All four tables of students and also that of the professors who had been holding their breath in anticipation stared at me then with a mixture of respect, awe and fear. They knew who I was. I surveyed the Slytherin table with a critical eye. A Slytherin house with a Malfoy in it was destined to be very powerful indeed. I hoped that the other Slytherin would measure up, that they would do justice to our founder, that they deserved to share a house with the daughter of Lucius Malfoy. I severely doubted it.
I made my way irresistibly slowly towards my table, savouring the revered silence and rapt attention I was attracting, deliberately delaying the sorting of the next student. The others also called to bear the crest of the serpent were breathless in their desperation to be the ones next to whom I chose to sit. I was pleased with the respect I commanded. People wouldn't touch the food on the serving plates until I had taken what I wanted. They offered to pass me things, or to carry my bags, and there was silence when I spoke. They were descended from long-standing wizarding families, they knew the rules. My fellow Slytherin wouldn't speak out of turn, yet I could tell that they were fizzing with excitement at having a Malfoy in their presence.
I passed the remainder of the day in a very enjoyable manner, basking in the glory that my family name accorded me. However, once I climbed into my bed and drew the curtains around me, I was gripped by a panic so sudden and so strong that it almost robbed me of my ability to breathe. That night was the first I was to spend away from home. Away from my Father. I had underestimated the importance of just knowing he was there in the house late at night. Every single night since he had come to claim me, my Father had been there for me, and I felt safe and secure knowing he was close by.
I have very little recollection of my life before my Father was a part of it. I spent the first six years living alone with my mother. We lived comfortably, though simply, in an isolated little village in a remote part of wizarding England. My early childhood was not unhappy, however I always felt as if there was something vitally important missing from my life. I carried that feeling with me as a dull, constant ache, that I grew accustomed to.
My grandparents would often visit, usually disturbing my mother and myself when we were at peace. I know that they meant well, but for some reason I didn't like them and I could sense they were upsetting my mother. I now know that they were the ones responsible for separating my parents and taking my Father away from me.
Though my grandparents too were Slytherin and were fringe supporters of the Dark Lord, they were cowardly, and refused to bear his mark or show any public display of their allegiance. When Lord Voldemort lost his powers and his supporters were hunted down, my grandparents' disapproval of their daughter's relationship with a prominent Death Eater such as Lucius Malfoy deepened. In order to distance themselves from their fallen leader, they freely gave up names of several of his supporters to the Aurors. Thanks to my mother's begging and pleading with them, they refrained from denouncing my Father.
However, my parents' misfortune did not end there. My grandparents soon discovered that my mother was pregnant with the Death Eater Lucius Malfoy's child. In a bid to protect their unborn granddaughter they forbid my mother from ever seeing him again. My parents were very much in love and it broke my mother's heart to be separated from her lover, but my grandparents wore down her will. She eventually agreed that to give me a better start in life I should be sheltered from any association with Voldemort and his band of dark wizards.
When I was tiny my mother would tell me stories about him and she's show me his photographs, though I was too young at first to understand. I would often find her looking at his picture, and as I grew older and located the loose floorboard where she kept the album, she would catch me gazing at it.
When my mother died suddenly of an illness, I didn't really understand what was going on. My memory here becomes very hazy. During the week before her funeral my grandparents took me in with them. They repulsed me. They called me 'Drake', denying the full name my father gave me. I was 'Draconis', after the dragon. I had always been called by that name. I hated 'Drake'. I hated being in their house. I would huddle in the corner glaring mutinously at them and I'd refuse my food. I couldn't understand why my mother had gone.
This fic was originally going to be titled 'Daughters and Lovers', inspired by D.H Lawrence's book title 'Sons and Lovers'. However I abandoned it in case it gave any reader the wrong impression. There is no slash or incest in this story.
The heroine's name is pronounced 'Dray - cone - iss' (Draconis)
Any reviews will be gratefully received and I will consider each one carefully.
***************************
I enrolled at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry upon my coming of age. Naturally, I was sorted into Slytherin. The hat never even touched my head - the name of the house that each and every generation of Malfoy had presided over rang out clear as a bell across the hall. All four tables of students and also that of the professors who had been holding their breath in anticipation stared at me then with a mixture of respect, awe and fear. They knew who I was. I surveyed the Slytherin table with a critical eye. A Slytherin house with a Malfoy in it was destined to be very powerful indeed. I hoped that the other Slytherin would measure up, that they would do justice to our founder, that they deserved to share a house with the daughter of Lucius Malfoy. I severely doubted it.
I made my way irresistibly slowly towards my table, savouring the revered silence and rapt attention I was attracting, deliberately delaying the sorting of the next student. The others also called to bear the crest of the serpent were breathless in their desperation to be the ones next to whom I chose to sit. I was pleased with the respect I commanded. People wouldn't touch the food on the serving plates until I had taken what I wanted. They offered to pass me things, or to carry my bags, and there was silence when I spoke. They were descended from long-standing wizarding families, they knew the rules. My fellow Slytherin wouldn't speak out of turn, yet I could tell that they were fizzing with excitement at having a Malfoy in their presence.
I passed the remainder of the day in a very enjoyable manner, basking in the glory that my family name accorded me. However, once I climbed into my bed and drew the curtains around me, I was gripped by a panic so sudden and so strong that it almost robbed me of my ability to breathe. That night was the first I was to spend away from home. Away from my Father. I had underestimated the importance of just knowing he was there in the house late at night. Every single night since he had come to claim me, my Father had been there for me, and I felt safe and secure knowing he was close by.
I have very little recollection of my life before my Father was a part of it. I spent the first six years living alone with my mother. We lived comfortably, though simply, in an isolated little village in a remote part of wizarding England. My early childhood was not unhappy, however I always felt as if there was something vitally important missing from my life. I carried that feeling with me as a dull, constant ache, that I grew accustomed to.
My grandparents would often visit, usually disturbing my mother and myself when we were at peace. I know that they meant well, but for some reason I didn't like them and I could sense they were upsetting my mother. I now know that they were the ones responsible for separating my parents and taking my Father away from me.
Though my grandparents too were Slytherin and were fringe supporters of the Dark Lord, they were cowardly, and refused to bear his mark or show any public display of their allegiance. When Lord Voldemort lost his powers and his supporters were hunted down, my grandparents' disapproval of their daughter's relationship with a prominent Death Eater such as Lucius Malfoy deepened. In order to distance themselves from their fallen leader, they freely gave up names of several of his supporters to the Aurors. Thanks to my mother's begging and pleading with them, they refrained from denouncing my Father.
However, my parents' misfortune did not end there. My grandparents soon discovered that my mother was pregnant with the Death Eater Lucius Malfoy's child. In a bid to protect their unborn granddaughter they forbid my mother from ever seeing him again. My parents were very much in love and it broke my mother's heart to be separated from her lover, but my grandparents wore down her will. She eventually agreed that to give me a better start in life I should be sheltered from any association with Voldemort and his band of dark wizards.
When I was tiny my mother would tell me stories about him and she's show me his photographs, though I was too young at first to understand. I would often find her looking at his picture, and as I grew older and located the loose floorboard where she kept the album, she would catch me gazing at it.
When my mother died suddenly of an illness, I didn't really understand what was going on. My memory here becomes very hazy. During the week before her funeral my grandparents took me in with them. They repulsed me. They called me 'Drake', denying the full name my father gave me. I was 'Draconis', after the dragon. I had always been called by that name. I hated 'Drake'. I hated being in their house. I would huddle in the corner glaring mutinously at them and I'd refuse my food. I couldn't understand why my mother had gone.
