Seventh Son

By: Xandria, Copyright © 2003 Xandria ()

Author's Notes: Just a one shot vignette (unbeta'd) of a bizarre bunny that bit me (I'm sorry, Arashi, but it came back). I'm not sure if I will ever expand upon this piece. This is a repost.

Disclaimer: All obvious HP characters and concepts are property of their respective owners. No infringement is intended.

Rated: PG-13

Summary: Draco Malfoy (Gen). Heritage is everything.

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Tradition. Duty. Breeding. Secrets. Buried at least six feet deep beneath immaculate lawns. Stone gardens that never whisper, and trees that do not see. Once, they did. Long ago, when the French Malfoy patriarch who moved to British soil first constructed the manor. After the sixth child was quietly laid beneath the earth, the manor lost its lustre. The seventh child brought life, resurrecting the subtle magic that had been cleverly woven by Malfoy and his wife.

Eventually, the manor fell into a pit of despair once more. The seventh child brought home a wife and with her, he made seven children. Six more graves were dug. And then the only whispered secrets were those that passed from Lord Malfoy's lips to his son.

On Draco Malfoy's 17th birthday, his father shared with him those words imparted to him on his 17th birthday. Draco sat, stone faced, absorbing his father's knowledge. No, the knowledge of his lineage. He would be the last. Here is where tradition would end.

As Draco stood upon the rooftop of the family mausoleum in the chilling rain, ill caring that his robes were soaked right through and he could catch his death, he considered the 42 tiny corpses buried beneath Malfoy manor. There would never be any more. He looked up into the stormy sky defiantly, permitting a prideful smile to grace his lips.

Five years earlier and Draco could have opened the Chamber. Before another five years passes, within it he will entomb a man born with the name Tom Riddle, a man for whom immortality was never destined. After all, a half Muggle, even one as miraculously talented as Voldemort, really is no match for the power diligently harnessed and shaped by seven generations of Malfoys and several generations of Slytherins.

~ fin ~