The Canon in Draconis Major series:
1. Draco Malfoy and the Boy Who Lived
2. Draco Malfoy and the Bane of Slytherin
3. Draco Malfoy and the Will to Power
4. Draco Malfoy and the Spinners of Fate
5. (in development)
6. (in development)
7. (in development)
8. (in development)
A/N: Hello! As stated in the story summary, this fic will cover Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire from the perspective of Draco Malfoy. If you've arrived here as a first-time reader, Draco's first three years at Hogwarts are available in my profile.
I altered and expanded the Series Notes to accommodate this fic's maturing themes (found in the first chapter of Draco Malfoy and the Boy Who Lived). There are a few things here instead that flavour the series going forward:
1) From 1988 until 2003, there was a law in the UK called Section 28 that prohibited any 'promotional' material for homosexuality. This law was in place for the publishing period spanning Philosopher's Stone to Order of the Phoenix. Because of this, one could argue that any queer content in Harry's first five years of schooling would have been stricken from the books if it existed—therefore, could be considered canon compliant if Harry knew Draco was gay so long as he didn't have any negative feelings about it. This series will treat that as true.
2) Please mind the Mature rating. Draco becomes sexually active this year. I prefer to write sex and explore sexuality in a positive manner, so Draco's experience here is a healthy and happy one.
3) Specific content warnings will be posted to the individual chapters they apply. I can't pretend that my warnings will be exhaustive and all-encompassing, so if there are any that you would prefer to see (my warnings currently are racism, homophobia, discussions of colonialism and genocide, transphobia, minor character death, and mentions of suicide and eugenics), then feel free to hit me up in the comments. I would like to say up-front that these and any other -isms or -phobias that come with fascism are not cast in sympathetic light.
I would like to thank teaplayer (can be found here on FF as well as on AO3) for their beta work. This was no small undertaking, and I am eternally grateful.
Chapter 1: Nuovo Nora
"Leon, no."
Yet again, Draco set down the clothing he held in order to hoist Leon out of his suitcase. Leon went dead weight. If it wasn't so cute, Draco would have unceremoniously tossed Leon out of his chamber and shut the door behind him.
Draco turned back to his dresser and heard a slight creak of the bed. He looked over his shoulder in time to see Leon's bottle-brush tail flick and disappear over the suitcase's edge. The tips of Leon's ears were visible.
"That's not how you're going to make your way," Draco told him as he returned to the case. "They'll say yes."
His parents hadn't yet in all the times Draco asked regarding Leon coming on holiday, but they hadn't really said no either. There had been plenty of petty reasoning, instead—things like that Leon would be something extra to think about while they tried to relax, 'don't you think he would rather stay home with Vega and Nova?', and Draco's least favourite: 'what if he gets lost in a foreign country?'
Leon rolled onto his side, his front paws curled up against his chest and tail lightly flicking. He swatted at Draco's hand when it came within reach.
"Fine." Draco set the pile of clothes on top of him. "Have it your way."
The clothes frothed about, and then trousers and shirts were ejected as though loaded on a spring. Leon followed, standing on the floor with his ears laid back.
"I'm not leaving you at home," Draco reiterated as he gathered the clothing again. "Just relax."
Leon sat in the bedroom doorway then, watching Draco with unblinking, yellow eyes. When a knock came at the chamber door, Draco scooped Leon up on his way past.
Mum stood outside the door. She'd changed into a white sundress since the last time Draco saw her. "Our Portkey leaves in half an hour. Are you ready?"
"Just about." Draco rested his cheek against the top of Leon's head. "Leon's slowing me up, trying to stow away."
Leon started to purr, and Mum tsked. She didn't look so swayed by his attempt to look as cute as possible.
"That's why you woke up to a dead mouse on your pillow this morning," Draco told her again. "He knows he's being excluded. Go on, Mum. Let him come. He'll be good, I promise."
"It's not him behaving that I'm concerned about." Mum raised her eyebrows. "It's him wandering off. How would we ever find him?"
"He's smart," Draco reiterated. "Smart enough to know we're abandoning him, at the very least."
"We aren't abandoning him."
"We've always been together." Draco let a little whine creep in. "Please?"
Mum looked at Leon again, this time with her lips pressed. Draco couldn't see Leon's face, but he imagined that those clever little eyes were conveying as best they could that this morning's mouse wouldn't be the last if he didn't have his way.
"As much as I hate to encourage such poor behaviour. . ." Mum scratched Leon's cheek. "I would rather not share my roof with an enemy."
"So. . .?"
Mum gave Draco a look that was equal parts exasperation and sternness. "He can come, but please don't put me in a position where I could say I told you so. You know you'll be devastated if anything happens to him, darling."
"It won't." Draco hitched Leon higher in his arms. "He can manage it at Hogwarts, so why not with the Zabinis?"
"Luzia's family aren't Zabinis," Mum corrected him.
"You know what I mean, though. With Blaise and his mum."
Mentioning Blaise reminded Draco of the nerves he'd been using Leon as a distraction from. Draco had assured his parents repeatedly as they planned this holiday that he would be fine to spend two weeks in Blaise's company. All their history was just that: history. Now though, on the day of departure, Draco suspected he might have been fooling himself.
"Narcissa," Father called from below. "Is Draco ready?"
Mum looked to Draco.
"I'll just close up my bags," Draco said.
Mum magicked Draco's things down to the lobby for him. Father waited for them there, dressed casually in a loose shirt and the same short-legged trousers that Draco wore. His straw hat sat on his back, its string taut across his collar bone. Father twirled a metal hoop around his fingers.
Father's gaze dropped to Leon, who was secured in his basket. "Well, how come he gets to bring a pet?"
Mum rewarded Father's playful petulance with a gentle pat to the cheek. "Please be an adult."
"Only for. . ." Father checked his watch. "Three more minutes."
Mum rolled her eyes while setting all of Draco's things on top of theirs. "You could put Leon here as well, Draco. Sooky will bring him once we've been shown to where we're staying."
"All right." Draco set Leon down, then stuck his fingers through the netting. "See you in a bit."
Leon meowed.
"Draco," Father said, "the Portkey."
The hoop Father had been holding glowed blue. Draco joined Father and Mum with it, waiting for the yank behind his navel. The wait was worse than the actual sensation, Draco reckoned, although he recalled from years ago that international Portkeys were extra horrible. Draco had never travelled as far as Italy in one go. He'd never travelled as far as Italy, period.
There was a pull, and then they were off. Portkey travel within the British Isles was usually over in a few seconds, but nausea started to press in on Draco as the journey dragged.
He stumbled sideways at sudden ground beneath his feet. The sun beat down on Draco. He immediately started to sweat and blinked at how bright it was.
"Ah!" came Gianmarco's voice. "Benvenuti, Malfoys!"
By the time Draco righted himself, Father and Mum had put their hats on properly. Draco followed suit, also patting his trouser pockets for his sunglasses. He could hear kissing and other such greetings, although couldn't see any of it past the brim of his hat. Some sandaled feet came into his view.
Blaise's voice followed. "Hullo."
Draco looked up, grinning reflexively at the smile he was receiving. The tiniest little flutter went through his stomach.
"Hullo," he replied, and then groaned lightly. "I think I put my sunglasses in my suitcase."
"You can wear mine for now, if you like."
"Oh—thanks."
Putting those on, Draco was able to get a better bearing of his surroundings. Gianmarco shook Draco's hand, and Mrs Zabini beamed at him with a little wave. Talking among themselves, the adults started walking along the lane Draco and his parents had arrived in. The trees, bushes, flowers, and such that lined it didn't actually look much different than home. They were, but not to the degree that Draco expected when coming this close to the Mediterranean Sea.
Draco and Blaise lagged a bit behind their parents.
"It's disorienting, isn't it?" Blaise asked. "I hate the Portkeys back and forth."
"It's a new place too," Draco agreed. "I'm not sure what I was expecting. We're not in a city?"
They looked down on a massive lake framed by heavily forested mountains. The area was quiet.
"This is Nuovo Nora," Blaise replied. "The village where we live."
"I thought it was in Milano."
Blaise shook his head. "We're out in the country a bit. Just on the edge of the Alps."
That explained the mountains, although they weren't tall enough to be capped by snow in summer. "Huh."
"Milano's close enough to give people an idea of the general area," Blaise said. "The conversation always goes, 'where are you from?' 'Nuovo Nora.' 'Where's that?' 'North of Milano.' So you just start skipping the middle part."
"Why not just say you're from Italy?" Draco asked.
"Because Italy's a big country." Blaise bumped their shoulders together. "And Northern Italy isn't what comes to mind when you hear Italy. You think of the sea, olive trees. . .Naples, Sicily, and the like. Right?"
"I suppose, yes." That Draco looked around for olive trees then, only to discover there weren't any, was telling.
The trees and stone muffled Gianmarco's voice, now all the parents had taken a corner. The lane was otherwise empty, although Draco noticed people milling around in the shade or in various hammocks. There were kids playing somewhere unseen, and the sound of water splashing in what might be a pool.
"Did you want a tour, to relax, or. . .?" Blaise asked. "It's riposo, so you shouldn't be bothered either way."
"I wouldn't mind seeing where we're staying, just so I know," Draco replied. "But, yes—show me around."
They shared a glance, and Draco felt his cheeks warm again. Sunglasses offered Draco the chance to moon at length while Blaise pointed at people, houses, and footpaths. Blaise was still as tall and lean as ever, and now thoroughly sun-kissed. His accent had an Italian cadence to it, especially whenever he grew excited about something or just spoke a little quicker.
Blaise pulled Draco by his elbow through an open set of wrought-iron gates. "This is my family's villa."
They stepped onto cobblestones, leading through a garden fit with a fountain. The house—tall and tan—was covered in climbing vines. All of the windows were open, through which Draco could hear different conversations being held as they passed. They came up on an open set of doors.
As soon as they crossed the threshold, Cooling Charms caused gooseflesh to break out over Draco's bare forearms. He barely had the chance to take in the spacious foyer when he heard his name.
"Questo è Draco?"
The speaker was a girl, maybe a few years older than Draco. She looked rather like Mrs Zabini, although her hair flowed down over her shoulders in heavy curls. She leaned against the archway frame with folded arms, and the curiosity she spoke with flickered up into her honey-coloured eyes after Draco removed his sunglasses and hat.
"Sì," she said to Blaise in a satisfied, playful tone. "Ti capisco."
Blaise sent her a dirty look before huffing a sigh in Draco's direction. "This is my cousin, Aurora."
"Ciao," Aurora said.
"Ciao," Draco replied, feeling insecure to say anything in a language he wasn't fluent in.
Aurora grinned at him, and then at Blaise before slinking off. Blaise watched her go with a tense jaw and sulky little frown. He sighed again once she'd disappeared.
"Sorry," he told Draco. "She's very annoying."
"Is she?"
"Anyway." Blaise waved a hand. "Come through to the kitchen. It smells good, doesn't it?"
Draco spoke to the affirmative, and smiled at the older woman surrounded by a group of young girls. The woman wore a lightweight, white scarf draped over her head that was tucked in at her right shoulder. Draco wagered she was about seventy or eighty years old. This had to be Blaise's great-grandmother: who he called his 'abay.
She and Blaise conversed, and Draco frowned slightly since it didn't sound like Italian. He snapped out of his focus on it when he was introduced. The little girls all giggled as Blaise rested a hand on each of their heads and spoke their names.
"Here," Blaise pointed at some covered platters, "pick what you want."
Draco and Blaise left the kitchen with a handful of cakes and sweets. They ended up downstairs, where the windows looked out into more gardens.
"This is my room," Blaise said, leading Draco through a door.
He had a corner bedroom with two windows, both of which were open to create a gentle cross-breeze. His bed looked comfortable with a pillowy duvet, and the pillows themselves like clouds. His school trunk was at the end of the bed, open with spellbooks and parchment spilling out. The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3 was open on his desk.
"Brilliant," Draco said. "Now I know what to imagine when I think about you being here."
Blaise smiled and dipped his chin, gaze dropping with it. Draco had also heard how suggestive that sounded. At least Blaise didn't seem to dislike it.
"What's that language you were speaking with your 'abay?" Draco asked, to get them out of such weighted silence.
"Oh—Tigrinya." Blaise brushed past Draco. "I'll show you to the guest house you and your parents will be in."
There was a garden door downstairs, which led down a path past Blaise's bedroom. They came to a standalone structure built in the same style as the main villa. Leon sat proudly in one of the open windows. The murmur of Mum and Father talking wafted out from behind Leon, who jumped back into the house and had come into the foyer when Draco and Blaise let themselves in.
"Our things arrived?" Draco asked as means of greeting.
Father nodded from where he sat in the living room. "Sooky put your bags in your room—through there."
Draco poked his head in, just to check it out. As soon as Draco stood still long enough for it, Leon rubbed up against his leg.
"If there's anything you've forgotten at home, we'll be able to go back and forth with Sooky," Father said when Draco returned to him and Mum. "Now that she's been here, she knows how to find it."
Mum chuckled. "You've icing sugar on your face, darling."
"Oh." Draco wiped at his cheeks.
Mum and Father had plans to meet back up with Mrs Zabini in a few hours, so Draco and Blaise set off with Leon at their heels. They ended up in a couple of hammocks in the gardens. Leon jumped up onto Draco once he'd settled, and kneaded his stomach while purring.
"We could see who wants a game of Quidditch after riposo?" Blaise suggested. "A few village kids play at Domus Minervae."
"Sure," Draco agreed.
"Or we could walk down to the lake and go swimming. . ." Blaise said. "Or whatever."
"Whatever strikes our fancy, I suppose."
Blaise had rolled to lay on his side facing Draco, and Draco felt the compulsive wish to mirror the position—more specifically, while they laid together in the same hammock.
"Playing here must be how you got good enough to try out for Chaser last year?" Draco asked, since Quidditch seemed like a safe topic.
Blaise nodded. "I was finally big enough last summer for the older kids to take me more seriously."
"How come you didn't tell me?" Draco replied. "Here I was, going on and on about my training with Higgs. . .I suppose I didn't give you much chance to say anything, did I?"
Blaise's reserved laughter dried up quickly. "I was embarrassed."
"Why?" Draco idly ran his nails through Leon's fur as he settled.
"Because you were getting professional training." Blaise shrugged. "I meant to wait until trials to see if it was worth saying anything about my own."
The circumstances surrounding Quidditch trials last September, as well as that Draco and Blaise hadn't been speaking at the time, crept up on Draco in form of residual awkwardness.
"I didn't want to pretend like my skills were anything close to the house team's, just in case," Blaise continued. "Obviously I wasn't good enough."
"That didn't mean you were bad," Draco said. "I know I was a bit of a prat about it, but you did fly well. Warrington was just. . .yeah."
"You can say it. He was better than me." When Blaise laughed this time, it wasn't so thin. "But Flint's gone now. I'm going to try for his spot."
Draco opened his mouth, then hesitated at thought of what Father had told him about a few weeks ago. "You should."
Blaise studied Draco. "You can say I wouldn't make it, if you don't think so."
"No, no, it's not that." Draco paused again. "Will you keep something to yourself? I was supposed to, but I would trust you."
"Sure." Blaise gave a blasé shrug.
"There might not be any Quidditch this year."
"What?" Blaise lifted his head slightly off the hammock. "Why not?"
"Because something else is happening, and my father said that Quidditch is usually cancelled because of it," Draco replied. "Do you know what the Triwizard Tournament is?"
Blaise shook his head.
"It used to be held between Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons ages ago." Draco folded his free arm behind his head. "They're bringing it back, and Hogwarts is hosting."
"So why does that mean we can't also have Quidditch?" Blaise asked. "I bet it would be really fun if students from the other schools could play too! Maybe we could have a proper season—you know, with more than just the four teams and six scheduled games."
"We could play anyway," Draco said. "It's not like they'd close the Quidditch pitch off, right? I wonder who Professor Snape would have picked to replace Flint."
"Who do you think he should have picked?"
Draco pursed his lips, thinking. "Montague. He's taken over before, like when Flint had detention with McGonagall after the Ravenclaw-Gryffindor match."
"I still can't believe you lot pretended to be Dementors," Blaise said with a snort. "Did you honestly think it would work?"
"To be honest, I wasn't doing much thinking at all after Potter showed up with that bloody Firebolt."
Irritation roiled in Draco's stomach. He took a deep breath in attempt to quell it. Thinking about Potter on his holiday defeated its purpose, for he was meant to relax.
Blaise fell quiet as he studied Draco again. "You're really all right about giving yours up?"
"Yeah." Draco shrugged. "It was my choice. Besides, there's no taking it back now."
"You don't want to, though?"
Draco shook his head, truthful to the matter. "It never felt like mine in the first place. I didn't earn it."
"You only missed it because Potter knocked your hand out of the way. Like your father said, you still got second in the year without expecting you would be rewarded for it. Doesn't that deserve a reward?"
"Probably." Draco returned his focus to petting Leon, feeling awkward. "But I didn't deserve it."
"Why not?"
Draco pulled his bottom lip back between his teeth. With a month to ponder it all over, he figured he understood quite clearly why he rejected the Firebolt. A year ago, Father had taken the blame for something stupid Draco had done, with Tom's diary. Draco had then used Father's sullied reputation as a convenient excuse to break a boy's heart. If Father knew that had happened and that said boy was Muggle-born, he wouldn't have offered Draco the broomstick. It was Draco's responsibility to dole out his own punishment in order to preserve Father's blissful ignorance.
"I just don't," Draco quietly replied. "It's nothing to do with my marks or the Quidditch Cup."
"I suppose it doesn't really matter, if there's not going to be a Quidditch season this year," Blaise eventually said, nose slightly wrinkled. "Although I would've thought you'd rather have the broomstick than not, in any case."
"I would have liked the broomstick," Draco could agree that far, "had I earned it."
They fell quiet again. This wasn't the time Draco wanted to think that he wouldn't have had to use Father's reputation as a crutch to break things off with Justin had he just gone with Blaise in the first place. Just as Draco couldn't ignore what had led to his reservation toward Blaise, he couldn't ignore that he'd already started to fancy Justin at the time. It was just unfortunate that the entire business hadn't been sorted in a way that didn't hurt anyone. Instead, Draco had hurt everyone involved.
And here he had come full circle anyway, quietly fancying Blaise again. So what was the point of it all?
It just happened, Draco reminded himself. Sometimes things are like that. They just happen.
By the time Draco thought of anything else worth saying, Blaise had dozed off in his hammock. Draco's heart tugged a little at that. His wish to be laying together, the netting pressing them close, returned. Between the heat, quiet, and Leon snoozing as deeply as Blaise, Draco found it difficult to keep his own eyes open. He wasn't entirely certain how much time had passed when he woke back up, but Leon had adjusted at some point for greater comfort.
Blaise was awake, although perhaps only just. He idly picked sleep out of the corner of his eye and smiled dozily when their gazes met.
"Should we see about a game of Quidditch, then?" he asked.