I awoke in the morning before Draco did and watched him sleep, wondering
how someone so presently innocent in appearance could be capable of the
libidinous activities of the previous night. As it was a good hour or so
until breakfast was likely to begin, I purloined some stationary from the
desk and wrote a letter to Sirius.
Dear Sirius,
Thy letter came as a great surprise to me, but not as a displeasing one. Thou art my Godfather still, and I would not think to condemn thee and thy companion for seeking happiness in either religious or romantic realms. Insofar as thy love for Doctor Lupin, I cannot express here fully my joy at our similarities in the matter. Let me explain further.
My pupil, Draco, and I have discovered through no small amount of inner turmoil that we share the same romantic preferences. In addition, he has revealed to me his disregard for the roles assigned to men and women per their attire. Had anyone told me beforehand that I would fall in love with the seventeen-year-old son of a wealthy planter, and one who prefers wearing women's clothing no less, I would have been astounded at their brazenness. Yet perhaps I should attribute my change in personality to the isolation here, or perhaps to the climate. I have found that many things we condemn in the safety of our own homes become quite nearly normal when given a human face. As such, the very concept of normalcy for me has become quite relative. Thou would understand and accept this realization, I am sure.
I am writing to thee from a bedroom in Parkinson Manor, when Draco's intended came out yesterday evening. I spent the majority of the evening in a corner drinking bourbon (for which I beg thy forgiveness, Godfather; the temptation given the cloying atmosphere was too great), but did undergo an introduction to some of Draco's relations, including one Dolores Umbridge, who apparently has connections through marriage to the state government. Her and those with whom she kept company were exceedingly loathsome people with whom to converse, permeated with prejudice and hatred. I fear that if all the rich and powerful in this nation are made up of such as they, there will be no progress in this land. In addition, I was also acquainted with the night's center of attention, Miss Pansy Parkinson. Draco was quite correct in calling her coy, and I must add that Miss Parkinson defies the favorable reputation that Southern young ladies have for their beauty.
I fear I have become something of a gossip in the previous paragraph and so will cease in my details. I do not know when I will be returning to New Surrey; Draco turns eighteen in less than three months, at which time he is obliged to make some sort of matrimonial arrangement with Miss Parkinson, and we are still unsure about how to treat the matter. If either thou or thy companion know of any methods by which two young men may avoid a marriage and live devoted to one another while not incurring the wrath of varied family members and public officials, Draco and I both would be quite grateful. Tell me please of any news in New Surrey, the outcome of thy legal proceedings, news of Doctor Lupin, etc. I eagerly await thy letter and hope to remain,
Thy loving Godson,
Harry Potter
I folded the letter upon completion and put it in my pocket so as to mail it when we returned to Malfoy Manor. The bell for breakfast rang as I was dressing, so I finished and went to where Draco was sleeping still.
"Darling, wake up. It's time for breakfast," I said softly, rubbing his back.
He moved slightly and groaned but did not open his eyes. I waited. He continued sleeping. I was greatly interested in not offending our hosts with tardiness, especially given the questionable content of the previous night, so I tried once more.
"Draco, wake up now!" I said. There was no response. My frustration increased.
Just then, a small, devilish idea came over me. I pulled back the bedsheets and gently pushed Draco, who was still naked, onto his back and applied my mouth and hands to the area between his legs. He became very quickly aroused, so I continued, praying he would awaken. Although he remained asleep for a short while longer, his breath became jagged.
"What, what are you doing?" Draco asked sleepily, yawning.
I removed my mouth from his shaft so that I could speak.
"Waking you up," I replied.
"Well, don't stop now on account of your success!" he said.
I laughed and resumed my position, rubbing and sucking at him until he reached climax and expelled his castings into my mouth.
"Now that I am awake," Draco said, closing his eyes with pleasure and breathing heavily. "Let us go down to breakfast."
"Perhaps you should dress yourself accordingly," I commented.
He nodded and began to put on clothing.
"Shall we make excuses for what Miss Parkinson so astutely pointed out last evening, or shall we wait first for any questions?" he asked as he struggled with the tying of his cravat.
"Let us wait for any questions. Perhaps we shall be lucky and find Miss Parkinson to have been overtaken by a bout of amnesia and to have thus not told her parents," I replied, keeping intentionally my tone light.
"Perhaps," Draco mused quietly. "Perhaps we shall indeed be lucky."
We went downstairs, where people were already sitting down to breakfast, among them Lucius and Narcissa. Lucius motioned for Draco to sit near him. As he walked over to the empty seat by his father, Pansy appeared.
"You! Master Malfoy, you had better have for me an explanation!" she screeched.
Draco sighed and walked towards her. "What on Earth are you going on about, Miss Parkinson? I have a headache and do not wish to hear you complain of trivial matters," he said, rubbing his temples.
"You know perfectly well what. And I don't care one whit about your head aching. It is more likely than not punishment for your sins of last night!" she said nastily.
"If by sin, you mean an excess in the intake of bourbon, I agree with you wholeheartedly, as such excessive drinking tends to cause the head to hurt. If, however, you mean something else, then I am afraid I am most confused," Draco responded.
She glared at him. "Lying, perverse, sodomite!" she hissed to him. He bent to kiss her hand.
"Gossip-mongering slattern," Draco whispered back.
"Slattern?" she repeated in an enraged whisper.
"That is what young ladies who pursue relations for material gain are called, or am I mistaken in that definition?" he responded softly, continuing to kiss her arm. "Then again, I am told slatterns are typically at least moderately attractive."
Pansy's face reddened and contorted with offense. Draco stood up.
"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, but Miss Parkinson seems to not take kindly to my affections. I am bemused at how I am to marry a young lady who is visibly disgusted when I kiss her hand," he remarked with mock seriousness.
"You are quite fortunate that my parents are out of the room at the moment, Master Malfoy," Pansy said.
"On the contrary, Miss Parkinson," he replied. "It is you who is fortunate, for your parents are not present to you becoming temporarily in grave danger of spinsterhood."
Pansy scowled. Draco smiled sweetly and sat down next to his father to breakfast. I seated myself nearby.
"What was that about?" Lucius asked his son.
"I am not sure. Perhaps Miss Parkinson sampled too much spirits last night, for she barged into my bedchamber as Mister Potter and I were asleep, accusing me of all varieties of sinful behaviors. I tried to win back her favor this morning and gently indicate her having misspoken, yet she would not accept me," Draco replied innocently.
"I somehow sense that there is more to her side of the story than you let on," Lucius commented. "We will discuss this upon arriving home."
We left around an hour later. The ride back to Malfoy Manor was as silent as the ride from it, but the quiet was far more pregnant and awful. When we arrived and entered the main house, Draco and I made to go upstairs, ostensibly for a lesson, but Narcissa halted our steps.
"Mister Potter, perhaps it would be best if you did not conduct a lesson presently. Draco's father and myself wish to speak with him," she said.
I nodded and continued walking upstairs as Draco was escorted by his mother to the parlor. When I reached my room, I changed into a more casual set of clothes, prepared to return those I had been wearing to the overseer, and walked back downstairs, peering briefly into the parlor as I went. Draco was seated on the chaise lounge, calmly talking. Lucius's expression was one of softened anger, and Narcissa was smiling with sad eyes. The tableau presented was nearly absurd, so atypical it was of their ordinary family interactions. I went outside via the side door, leaving my letter in the pile of outgoing mail.
I knocked on Severus's door and waiting for it to opened, feeling the sun already begin to work its burn on my back.
"Mister Potter?" he asked, opening the door and letting me in. "Why are you and the Malfoys not at church?"
"I do not practice Methodism, and Mister Malfoy expressed no desire this morning to go to worship. I assume the events of last evening have given him a fearsome headache, as he is not one to miss church," I replied.
"Strange indeed. And no lesson with Master Malfoy?" Severus asked.
"Ah, no. His parents are discussing a matter with him in the parlor," I replied. I paused. "I thought to return to you your clothing with my thanks."
He nodded. "You're quite welcome; I have little use for such clothing anymore. Did you enjoy Miss Parkinson's debut?" he asked while putting away the suit.
"Ah, it was quite a...new experience. I am from Delaware, and such events there are not nearly so lavish as here," I answered.
"The affairs of the well-heeled can be quite overwhelming, especially to one of a different background," he agreed. "I never myself became entirely comfortable attending them."
"When was that?" I inquired, my curiosity piqued.
"Mister Malfoy and I worked several years back on Congressman Voldemort's political campaign. We were rewarded per his success, with extravagant parties and the like," he replied.
"What changed from then to now?" I asked.
"I, I lost my taste for the man I became while working for the congressman. Mister Malfoy, however, found his true self in such work. We quarreled, and Congressman Voldemort became especially angry over my...doubts. I left his inner circle soon thereafter, claiming illness," Severus said.
"If you were at odds with Lucius, how did you come to work for him?" I asked.
"Ah, Narc-Mistress Malfoy and I have a history together. She felt she owed me a kindness and graciously convinced her husband to hire me. I am eternally grateful to her for that act," he replied. There was a catch in his voice, as though he had left many painful things unsaid. I decided to cease my flow of questions.
We sat, drinking iced tea, for a short while. Severus explained how he had been trained as an apothecary, the profession of his father, and his awe at the majesty of the elements and their properties. I respectfully disagreed, having preferred religion and zoological studies to the physical sciences in school. Before I knew it, the lunch bell was sounding from the kitchen.
"Mister Potter," Severus said, putting away the service from which we had been drinking tea. "It would be best, I believe, if you went to lunch now."
"I only hope that Mister and Mistress Malfoy are not too displeased with me," I mused.
"Why would they be displeased with you?" he asked.
"Oh, no reason," I replied quickly, worrying I had provoked in Severus suspicion.
He nodded. "It has to do with Master Malfoy, does it not?" he asked.
"Ah, in a way, yes," I stammered nervously.
Severus nodded again. "Come by my house whenever you like, Mister Potter. My latchstring is always out," he said, showing me the door.
I walked back towards the main house, shaking and confused. It seemed that every conversation I had in this house gave me a glimpse at the growing multitude of complexities and dramas that befell this house and this area of Texas.
The heat was unusually strong. The windows of the house were all open, and as we sat down to lunch, slaves surrounded the table to fan us. The food before me looked close to spoiling, and any remaining appetite I possessed quickly disappeared. We did not make conversation, and the quiet felt more caused by the temperature than by offense. Finally, as I was drinking my fourth glass of iced tea, Narcissa excused herself demurely, saying she felt faint, and her husband followed her upstairs with a vial of smelling salts. Draco's eyes met mine across the table.
"It would suit our relationship well to talk on a serious matter, Mister Potter," he said.
"Would my bedchamber be an appropriate setting?" I asked, my eyes flitting from his. Draco nodded.
We left the dining room somberly. Draco stopped briefly in his bedchamber before entering mine, carrying a bundle of dark grey satin. He went over to a corner, changed into what turned out to be a rather fetching gown, and proceeded to stretch out on my bed. I sat rather stiffly in the chair at my desk.
"Sorry, but I have had all I can take of trousers and waistcoats," he said. "My mother will never notice the absence of this particular gown, as it lay folded in the far back of her clothes press."
"And you couldn't simply thus be entirely unclothed in my bedchamber?" I asked.
"On another occasion, with great pleasure," he replied with a quick grin. "But what we must discuss is a serious matter, and I felt disinclined towards providing any distractions. Harry, I told my parents that Miss Parkinson had broken my heart with her cruel slander, and that if she would not retract her words, I would be in the deepest of agonies."
My lightheartedness disappeared. "Did they believe such a statement?" I asked.
"Oddly, yes. I'm quite surprised that they reacted so joyfully," he replied.
"Well, that's wonderful, insofar that it removes suspicion from our relationship," I commented.
"Except that it is now likely I will be marrying Miss Parkinson within the month," he responded slowly.
"You are so good an actor as to engender that outcome?" I asked.
"Apparently so. My father wished for me to commit before I could hypothetically change my mind," Draco replied.
"Oh dear. We haven't much time then," I said.
"Not at all," he agreed. "Some plot must be devised so that we may be in peace."
I looked at Draco in one of his mother's unworn gowns, and then at my own body, its muscles evident, its form so masculine, and I remembered something Sirius once mentioned to me over a lesson on colonialists and American natives: that there were tribes in which two members of the same sex could wed and be accepted as such, provided that one lived as a man and the other as a woman.
"It would be wise, I think, for us to leave this area as soon as possible to live elsewhere," I said. "Do you believe you could be ready in two weeks?"
Venus Aeternus: Pansy is most interested in marrying Draco for the Malfoy fortune and the prestige associated with the Malfoy name. Besides, how else would she be able to get with someone of Draco's physical caliber? Heh. GaBrIeLa2: I'm glad that you aren't homophobic, but transphobia (the fear or dislike of transgender, transvestite, and/or transsexual persons) is just as, well, unhappy in my view. I feel that we are all too stuck in the societal construction of gender roles and am trying to break some of those preconceptions with this story. That aside, the story is set in the beginning in 1857. Thank you also to pari106, Mistress Joy, CelestialDrgn, Falling from Grace, Lolita, madam-malicia, and PeachDancer82 for the lovely reviews, and thank you also to everyone else out there reading this!
Dear Sirius,
Thy letter came as a great surprise to me, but not as a displeasing one. Thou art my Godfather still, and I would not think to condemn thee and thy companion for seeking happiness in either religious or romantic realms. Insofar as thy love for Doctor Lupin, I cannot express here fully my joy at our similarities in the matter. Let me explain further.
My pupil, Draco, and I have discovered through no small amount of inner turmoil that we share the same romantic preferences. In addition, he has revealed to me his disregard for the roles assigned to men and women per their attire. Had anyone told me beforehand that I would fall in love with the seventeen-year-old son of a wealthy planter, and one who prefers wearing women's clothing no less, I would have been astounded at their brazenness. Yet perhaps I should attribute my change in personality to the isolation here, or perhaps to the climate. I have found that many things we condemn in the safety of our own homes become quite nearly normal when given a human face. As such, the very concept of normalcy for me has become quite relative. Thou would understand and accept this realization, I am sure.
I am writing to thee from a bedroom in Parkinson Manor, when Draco's intended came out yesterday evening. I spent the majority of the evening in a corner drinking bourbon (for which I beg thy forgiveness, Godfather; the temptation given the cloying atmosphere was too great), but did undergo an introduction to some of Draco's relations, including one Dolores Umbridge, who apparently has connections through marriage to the state government. Her and those with whom she kept company were exceedingly loathsome people with whom to converse, permeated with prejudice and hatred. I fear that if all the rich and powerful in this nation are made up of such as they, there will be no progress in this land. In addition, I was also acquainted with the night's center of attention, Miss Pansy Parkinson. Draco was quite correct in calling her coy, and I must add that Miss Parkinson defies the favorable reputation that Southern young ladies have for their beauty.
I fear I have become something of a gossip in the previous paragraph and so will cease in my details. I do not know when I will be returning to New Surrey; Draco turns eighteen in less than three months, at which time he is obliged to make some sort of matrimonial arrangement with Miss Parkinson, and we are still unsure about how to treat the matter. If either thou or thy companion know of any methods by which two young men may avoid a marriage and live devoted to one another while not incurring the wrath of varied family members and public officials, Draco and I both would be quite grateful. Tell me please of any news in New Surrey, the outcome of thy legal proceedings, news of Doctor Lupin, etc. I eagerly await thy letter and hope to remain,
Thy loving Godson,
Harry Potter
I folded the letter upon completion and put it in my pocket so as to mail it when we returned to Malfoy Manor. The bell for breakfast rang as I was dressing, so I finished and went to where Draco was sleeping still.
"Darling, wake up. It's time for breakfast," I said softly, rubbing his back.
He moved slightly and groaned but did not open his eyes. I waited. He continued sleeping. I was greatly interested in not offending our hosts with tardiness, especially given the questionable content of the previous night, so I tried once more.
"Draco, wake up now!" I said. There was no response. My frustration increased.
Just then, a small, devilish idea came over me. I pulled back the bedsheets and gently pushed Draco, who was still naked, onto his back and applied my mouth and hands to the area between his legs. He became very quickly aroused, so I continued, praying he would awaken. Although he remained asleep for a short while longer, his breath became jagged.
"What, what are you doing?" Draco asked sleepily, yawning.
I removed my mouth from his shaft so that I could speak.
"Waking you up," I replied.
"Well, don't stop now on account of your success!" he said.
I laughed and resumed my position, rubbing and sucking at him until he reached climax and expelled his castings into my mouth.
"Now that I am awake," Draco said, closing his eyes with pleasure and breathing heavily. "Let us go down to breakfast."
"Perhaps you should dress yourself accordingly," I commented.
He nodded and began to put on clothing.
"Shall we make excuses for what Miss Parkinson so astutely pointed out last evening, or shall we wait first for any questions?" he asked as he struggled with the tying of his cravat.
"Let us wait for any questions. Perhaps we shall be lucky and find Miss Parkinson to have been overtaken by a bout of amnesia and to have thus not told her parents," I replied, keeping intentionally my tone light.
"Perhaps," Draco mused quietly. "Perhaps we shall indeed be lucky."
We went downstairs, where people were already sitting down to breakfast, among them Lucius and Narcissa. Lucius motioned for Draco to sit near him. As he walked over to the empty seat by his father, Pansy appeared.
"You! Master Malfoy, you had better have for me an explanation!" she screeched.
Draco sighed and walked towards her. "What on Earth are you going on about, Miss Parkinson? I have a headache and do not wish to hear you complain of trivial matters," he said, rubbing his temples.
"You know perfectly well what. And I don't care one whit about your head aching. It is more likely than not punishment for your sins of last night!" she said nastily.
"If by sin, you mean an excess in the intake of bourbon, I agree with you wholeheartedly, as such excessive drinking tends to cause the head to hurt. If, however, you mean something else, then I am afraid I am most confused," Draco responded.
She glared at him. "Lying, perverse, sodomite!" she hissed to him. He bent to kiss her hand.
"Gossip-mongering slattern," Draco whispered back.
"Slattern?" she repeated in an enraged whisper.
"That is what young ladies who pursue relations for material gain are called, or am I mistaken in that definition?" he responded softly, continuing to kiss her arm. "Then again, I am told slatterns are typically at least moderately attractive."
Pansy's face reddened and contorted with offense. Draco stood up.
"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, but Miss Parkinson seems to not take kindly to my affections. I am bemused at how I am to marry a young lady who is visibly disgusted when I kiss her hand," he remarked with mock seriousness.
"You are quite fortunate that my parents are out of the room at the moment, Master Malfoy," Pansy said.
"On the contrary, Miss Parkinson," he replied. "It is you who is fortunate, for your parents are not present to you becoming temporarily in grave danger of spinsterhood."
Pansy scowled. Draco smiled sweetly and sat down next to his father to breakfast. I seated myself nearby.
"What was that about?" Lucius asked his son.
"I am not sure. Perhaps Miss Parkinson sampled too much spirits last night, for she barged into my bedchamber as Mister Potter and I were asleep, accusing me of all varieties of sinful behaviors. I tried to win back her favor this morning and gently indicate her having misspoken, yet she would not accept me," Draco replied innocently.
"I somehow sense that there is more to her side of the story than you let on," Lucius commented. "We will discuss this upon arriving home."
We left around an hour later. The ride back to Malfoy Manor was as silent as the ride from it, but the quiet was far more pregnant and awful. When we arrived and entered the main house, Draco and I made to go upstairs, ostensibly for a lesson, but Narcissa halted our steps.
"Mister Potter, perhaps it would be best if you did not conduct a lesson presently. Draco's father and myself wish to speak with him," she said.
I nodded and continued walking upstairs as Draco was escorted by his mother to the parlor. When I reached my room, I changed into a more casual set of clothes, prepared to return those I had been wearing to the overseer, and walked back downstairs, peering briefly into the parlor as I went. Draco was seated on the chaise lounge, calmly talking. Lucius's expression was one of softened anger, and Narcissa was smiling with sad eyes. The tableau presented was nearly absurd, so atypical it was of their ordinary family interactions. I went outside via the side door, leaving my letter in the pile of outgoing mail.
I knocked on Severus's door and waiting for it to opened, feeling the sun already begin to work its burn on my back.
"Mister Potter?" he asked, opening the door and letting me in. "Why are you and the Malfoys not at church?"
"I do not practice Methodism, and Mister Malfoy expressed no desire this morning to go to worship. I assume the events of last evening have given him a fearsome headache, as he is not one to miss church," I replied.
"Strange indeed. And no lesson with Master Malfoy?" Severus asked.
"Ah, no. His parents are discussing a matter with him in the parlor," I replied. I paused. "I thought to return to you your clothing with my thanks."
He nodded. "You're quite welcome; I have little use for such clothing anymore. Did you enjoy Miss Parkinson's debut?" he asked while putting away the suit.
"Ah, it was quite a...new experience. I am from Delaware, and such events there are not nearly so lavish as here," I answered.
"The affairs of the well-heeled can be quite overwhelming, especially to one of a different background," he agreed. "I never myself became entirely comfortable attending them."
"When was that?" I inquired, my curiosity piqued.
"Mister Malfoy and I worked several years back on Congressman Voldemort's political campaign. We were rewarded per his success, with extravagant parties and the like," he replied.
"What changed from then to now?" I asked.
"I, I lost my taste for the man I became while working for the congressman. Mister Malfoy, however, found his true self in such work. We quarreled, and Congressman Voldemort became especially angry over my...doubts. I left his inner circle soon thereafter, claiming illness," Severus said.
"If you were at odds with Lucius, how did you come to work for him?" I asked.
"Ah, Narc-Mistress Malfoy and I have a history together. She felt she owed me a kindness and graciously convinced her husband to hire me. I am eternally grateful to her for that act," he replied. There was a catch in his voice, as though he had left many painful things unsaid. I decided to cease my flow of questions.
We sat, drinking iced tea, for a short while. Severus explained how he had been trained as an apothecary, the profession of his father, and his awe at the majesty of the elements and their properties. I respectfully disagreed, having preferred religion and zoological studies to the physical sciences in school. Before I knew it, the lunch bell was sounding from the kitchen.
"Mister Potter," Severus said, putting away the service from which we had been drinking tea. "It would be best, I believe, if you went to lunch now."
"I only hope that Mister and Mistress Malfoy are not too displeased with me," I mused.
"Why would they be displeased with you?" he asked.
"Oh, no reason," I replied quickly, worrying I had provoked in Severus suspicion.
He nodded. "It has to do with Master Malfoy, does it not?" he asked.
"Ah, in a way, yes," I stammered nervously.
Severus nodded again. "Come by my house whenever you like, Mister Potter. My latchstring is always out," he said, showing me the door.
I walked back towards the main house, shaking and confused. It seemed that every conversation I had in this house gave me a glimpse at the growing multitude of complexities and dramas that befell this house and this area of Texas.
The heat was unusually strong. The windows of the house were all open, and as we sat down to lunch, slaves surrounded the table to fan us. The food before me looked close to spoiling, and any remaining appetite I possessed quickly disappeared. We did not make conversation, and the quiet felt more caused by the temperature than by offense. Finally, as I was drinking my fourth glass of iced tea, Narcissa excused herself demurely, saying she felt faint, and her husband followed her upstairs with a vial of smelling salts. Draco's eyes met mine across the table.
"It would suit our relationship well to talk on a serious matter, Mister Potter," he said.
"Would my bedchamber be an appropriate setting?" I asked, my eyes flitting from his. Draco nodded.
We left the dining room somberly. Draco stopped briefly in his bedchamber before entering mine, carrying a bundle of dark grey satin. He went over to a corner, changed into what turned out to be a rather fetching gown, and proceeded to stretch out on my bed. I sat rather stiffly in the chair at my desk.
"Sorry, but I have had all I can take of trousers and waistcoats," he said. "My mother will never notice the absence of this particular gown, as it lay folded in the far back of her clothes press."
"And you couldn't simply thus be entirely unclothed in my bedchamber?" I asked.
"On another occasion, with great pleasure," he replied with a quick grin. "But what we must discuss is a serious matter, and I felt disinclined towards providing any distractions. Harry, I told my parents that Miss Parkinson had broken my heart with her cruel slander, and that if she would not retract her words, I would be in the deepest of agonies."
My lightheartedness disappeared. "Did they believe such a statement?" I asked.
"Oddly, yes. I'm quite surprised that they reacted so joyfully," he replied.
"Well, that's wonderful, insofar that it removes suspicion from our relationship," I commented.
"Except that it is now likely I will be marrying Miss Parkinson within the month," he responded slowly.
"You are so good an actor as to engender that outcome?" I asked.
"Apparently so. My father wished for me to commit before I could hypothetically change my mind," Draco replied.
"Oh dear. We haven't much time then," I said.
"Not at all," he agreed. "Some plot must be devised so that we may be in peace."
I looked at Draco in one of his mother's unworn gowns, and then at my own body, its muscles evident, its form so masculine, and I remembered something Sirius once mentioned to me over a lesson on colonialists and American natives: that there were tribes in which two members of the same sex could wed and be accepted as such, provided that one lived as a man and the other as a woman.
"It would be wise, I think, for us to leave this area as soon as possible to live elsewhere," I said. "Do you believe you could be ready in two weeks?"
Venus Aeternus: Pansy is most interested in marrying Draco for the Malfoy fortune and the prestige associated with the Malfoy name. Besides, how else would she be able to get with someone of Draco's physical caliber? Heh. GaBrIeLa2: I'm glad that you aren't homophobic, but transphobia (the fear or dislike of transgender, transvestite, and/or transsexual persons) is just as, well, unhappy in my view. I feel that we are all too stuck in the societal construction of gender roles and am trying to break some of those preconceptions with this story. That aside, the story is set in the beginning in 1857. Thank you also to pari106, Mistress Joy, CelestialDrgn, Falling from Grace, Lolita, madam-malicia, and PeachDancer82 for the lovely reviews, and thank you also to everyone else out there reading this!