I Am Draco - Part One: Father To Son

Prologue

She had never felt such pain before - it circled her hips like a whip, lashing out at her rhythmically. She moaned and writhed in agony although somewhere in the back of her mind was the thought that she deserved it.

Someone was dabbing at her brow with a damp cloth, soothing her with cool water and murmured words of comfort which she couldn't distinguish. The sounds of her own distress was all that she could hear.

Suddenly, she saw a whirl of colour dance before her eyes and someone whispered her name before the world went silent and then as it was obliterated by a blanket of black, she knew no more.

...probing fingers in her hair, trailing along her shoulder... breath on her neck and warm moist lips whispering in her ear...the weight of a body raised above hers as she struggled for breath... the sudden rush of blood to her head and her cries mingled with another's...

The sound of a baby crying filtered through the clouded images in her mind and her eyes fluttered open once more.

"It's a boy!" a voice said, and she tried to raise her head to see but a wave of dizziness knocked her flat again. The cries grew louder, and a figure appeared next to her holding a small bundle. She could just make out a shock of unruly hair and a tiny screwed up face as the little infant bawled at the top of his lungs. A great surge of love for this small person overwhelmed her and she gasped as tears threatened to choke her.

"... so dark though..." a random comment came through to her and she noticed for the first time the baby's almost black hair, the complete opposite of her own platinum locks. Before she could take the child in her arms, a sudden stabbing pain in her abdomen took her breath away and she cried out wordlessly.

Clutching at the sides of the bed with both hands, she knew only of the pain that clutched at her insides though she caught random phrases of the conversation around her.

"...twins... "

The pain seemed to intensify and recede in time with some age old rhythm. Was it her heartbeat? Her thought seemed oddly distant, as though she had taken a step outside her own body and was watching the events happening to herself from afar.

"... cord wrapped round its neck... "

In a massive final surge, the pain faded away as though it had never been, leaving her feeling drained and empty.

"It's another boy." The joyous exclamation seemed strangely out of place.

She heard a commotion around her and then above it all, several sounds of flesh hitting flesh. For some reason, the noise made her flinch and she screwed her eyes tight shut. She could make out various whispers at her feet but they were too indistinct to make out until one final one sounded louder than the rest.

"...no heartbeat..."

"He's so tiny."

"He never stood a chance, the first child took all his strength, it happens sometimes."

Completely exhausted, she could do nothing but listen, staring at the cool darkness inside her own eyelids. So dark...

"I can't resist you... temptress!"

Once more, the sound of a baby's cry penetrated the fog that held her captive and brought her back. She opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling, blinking furiously as she tried to regain sense of where she was and what was happening.

Footsteps sounded next to her and she turned her head to see a woman bearing two bundles wrapped tightly in blankets. She struggled to sit up and someone rushed to her aid, helping her and then packing pillows behind her back until she was quite comfortable.

The woman smiled at her and proffered the first bundle which she took gently into her arms. The little baby boy that lay there had the darkest hair she had ever seen and a sudden stab of guilt shocked her.

"Don't take no notice of the colour of his hair," the woman said in a soft voice, "it will either change to something entirely different or he will lose it all in a few days."

She ran a tentative finger across his clean smooth forehead, marvelling at its softness. For a moment, there was nothing else; her world consisted of only herself and her son. Her firstborn son.

"I'm pregnant," she heard herself say rather more loudly than she had intended.

The assistant cleared her throat and she glanced up at her impatiently, until she realised that there was another child. His twin. The second bundle was placed gently in the crook of her left arm and the woman silently took her leave. The white blankets swamped the tiny figure inside them; he was so small as to seem like a doll and so pale, he was almost translucent. Not a single hair covered his diminutive head, neither dark as his brother nor as fair as his mother.

The darker child mewled plaintively and waved in the air the one arm that he had managed to work out from the tightly wrapped covering that bound him. Glancing over at him she smiled and her heart melted. A snuffling from her left arm drew her attention that way, where the diminutive sibling simply yawned and appeared to sleep.

No carbon copies of each other, these twins and she felt sure that their different starts in life would have a great deal of bearing on their future personalities. One so dark and one so fair, they were exact opposites physically but what would their future have in store?

A slight noise made her look up. Over by the door, a tall figure stood cloaked in shadow. She held her breath as he made a small movement and the light revealed the man. Timidly she met the steel grey eyes that held hers for a long minute.

"One or the other. You must choose," he said in a voice devoid of all emotion.

She looked down at her two small sons, glancing between them both.

"How can I decide? They are my flesh and blood, they are my children." Her voice cracked and she drew a deep quavering breath.

"The bargain has been made. You must keep your part of it."

She bowed her head. She had known all along that her child would leave her as soon as it was born but now the moment was finally here, she couldn't do it. She tried to tell herself that he was going to a family who would love him and care for him just as much as she would, perhaps more so as after all, they were barren and this child was one they never thought they would have.

She stared intently at both babies with her heart hammering painfully against her chest. The figure of the man hovered at the edge of her vision as a reminder of what she was about to do. The enormity of the task weighed heavily on her shoulders and she fought back tears, knowing that if she allowed herself to break down now, she wouldn't be able to stop.

She noticed the way her firstborn's dark hair lay mussed on his head and longed to brush it straight but with both arms full she was unable to. The baby opened his eyes and stared straight up at her with brilliant blue eyes. His chubby arms waved as though wanting to grab hold of her and pull her close to him and her heart wrenched. In the crook of her other arm, the minuscule form of his brother lay calmly asleep, blissfully unaware of the momentous decision riding on his future.

Stealing one final glance from underneath her lashes, she took a deep breath and slowly raised her head.

"Take him," she said in a strong voice.

The man reached the side of the bed in several long strides and swiftly took the bundle from her arm. Fixing her visitor with a steely gaze, she fought the instinct to cling to her child as it was taken from her. Instead, she slightly tightened her grip on the remaining baby who whimpered quietly in protest.

At the door, the man paused and turned back to deliver his parting shot. "You won't regret this."

Chapter One

I lay on my back, with my head pillowed on my arms staring up towards the ceiling, watching the dappled light of the morning sun play there. The window closest to the bed was ajar, letting a slight breeze through to wash over my chest. It was barely nine and the heat was rising already, indicating that today was going to be a scorcher.

Voices outside the window drifted up and piqued my curiosity but I felt too lazy to move; instead I strained to make out what they were saying.

"... grass turning yellow over on the north side..."

"... herbaceous border taken over by weeds..."

Rolling my eyes in distaste, I tried to summon up the energy to slide out of bed but only succeeded in turning over and collapsing full length on the mattress. Wearily, I rested my chin on my hands and stared at the carved wooden headboard with a mind that was completely blank. Realising that my bladder was screaming out for relief too loudly to be ignored much longer, I hauled myself to my knees, clambered across the bed and staggered into my bathroom.

Once Nature's call was answered, I turned on the shower and clambered in, wincing as the chilled needle-sharp flow hit my sleep-warmed skin. The water beat down on my head in a vain hope my brain would surrender to the drumming and begin to wake up. With a final wide yawn, I rubbed my hands over my face, started to feel slightly more human and looked around for the soap.

There was one benefit to the mandatory cold shower every morning, I mused some time later, wrapping a large towel around my waist and stepping out onto the tiled floor; it certainly didn't encourage you to hang around. Treading carefully across the chilly floor to the vanity unit, I leaned on the sink to peer into the mirror above it, inadvertently catching some of the bottles crowded there with my elbow and knocking them to the floor. Ignoring them, I studied my reflection with assumed nonchalance.

"Not bad, not bad at all," I muttered in approval, turning my head this way and that and feeling my chin for any stray hairs I might have missed whilst shaving in the shower. I rummaged around the cluttered shelves and counter for my comb, finally finding it hiding behind a half-filled bottle of cologne and amused myself by parting my hair along the side to see how I looked.

I was always surprised by how dark my hair went when it was wet; it made me look like a completely different person and for a moment I considered changing it, just for kicks. It would have been worth it just for the look on people's faces, but I knew that when it came down to it, I wouldn't change it for the world. It was unique, like I was or at least, unique to my family.

Turning to one side, I sucked in my stomach, pulled my shoulders back and tried to admire my physique but it was a waste of time in a mirror that only showed my head and shoulders. Padding softly into my bedroom, I took up position in front of the full length mirror next to the wardrobe.

Staring at the mirror and my reflection in it, I realised my hair was still parted on one side, making me look a bit of a prat. Ruffling the whole mass with my fingers to get rid of the parting, I ended up simply shaking my head violently till it just settled into place of its own accord. Flicking the ends out of my eyes, I wondered if it was finally getting too long and if I should consider getting it cut.

"Looks like you're peering out from behind a pair of curtains," Father had said the last time he saw me and had ordered me to get it cut. Of course, I'd made some defiant stand about it being my hair and I'd do what I want with it. It was a glorious moment and a wonderful speech, just a shame we had been in different places when I made it.

Wrinkling my nose in thought, I took a step closer to study myself better. I had the same grey eyes and white blond hair as all Malfoys, coupled with the pale skin that would burn within seconds of being exposed to anything approaching summer sun. Always small and slight for my age, my long-awaited growth spurt had never materialised, meaning that at age 18, I was a good head shorter than both my parents. My slender frame meant that should I desire to continue to play Quidditch, perhaps professionally, I was still the perfect build for Seeker.

"You're putting on weight, you know."

"What? Where?" I scowled at the mirror.

"Turn around," the mirror said and I did so, twisting my head over my shoulder to try and see the back of me. "There!" it proclaimed triumphantly.

I couldn't see anything and craned over the other shoulder to see if that made any difference.

"Where?" I wished the damned thing had hands so it could point. I frantically shifted from looking over one shoulder to the other, trying to see what the mirror saw.

"There! Right there!" I raised my eyes to the ceiling in despair and heard a quiet fwump as my towel, dislodged by all my twisting about, finally gave up and fell at my feet. The mirror dissolved in fits of giggles and I caught something about "My mistake, looks fine after all."

Grabbing the towel from round my ankles, I wrapped it hastily around my waist again and threatened the mirror with relegation to the attic.

Sighing, I flung open the doors of the wardrobe and rifled through its vast contents. Every item of clothing had been carefully selected with regards to my colouring and physique, so I pretty much could have thrown anything on and still would have looked fabulous but that wasn't my style. Mind you, I had it on good authority that I could have worn nothing but a coal sack and would look like I'd just stepped off a catwalk. After some consideration, I pulled out a simple pair of charcoal trousers and an ice blue short sleeved shirt. After a quick application of cologne, I dropped the towel on the floor, much to the amusement of the mirror and swiftly got dressed. With a final glance in the mirror, I gave my hair one last ruffle and left the room to seek breakfast.

The dining room was not really designed to be used by one person. I sat in my usual place, at the right hand of the head of the table that practically ran the length of the room and pushed my food round my plate, cringing at the sound of the cutlery clinking against the china. I slouched back in my chair and picked up a slice of buttered toast. Chewing on it, I studiously ignored the house elves who had started to clear away and began instead to devise something for keeping toast warm for slightly longer than the ten seconds it seemed to manage on its own.

Finally fed up of trying to chew something that appeared to resemble cardboard, I threw the half-eaten slice back onto my side plate and stared up at the windows instead. Dust motes danced in the few strips of sunlight that dared to pass into the room. Like the rest of the house, the windows were so high up in the walls and so narrow that every room was permanently dark. In the summer, on days like today, it was a cool sanctuary from the blast furnace outside; in the winter, it was too depressing for words.

Wriggling around in a vain attempt to get comfortable in a chair that was not designed for it, I cast my mind to my plans for the day and was pleasantly relieved to find that I had none.

"Another day of rest and relaxation ahead of you," I said to myself with a smile. "Oh, it's good to be me."

I had a feeling though, that there was something I had to be doing but couldn't for the life of me think what it was. What had I done recently? Frowning, I thought over the last few days. Well, I'd only come back home yesterday from school...

"Congratulations students, on this, your day of graduation. From here, you take the knowledge we have given you and use it wisely..."

My eyes snapped open with realisation. I was a graduate, my time at school was now over and I was now out in the big bad world on my own. Pushing my hair out of my eyes, I couldn't help but frown. What was I to do? I remembered a comment someone at school had made which had filtered through to me about being an Evil Overlord in Training. My future had all been mapped out from the moment I was born, it had already been decided for me and all I'd had to do was go along with it. Why would I want to do otherwise?

There was just one tiny flaw in that plan though. Apart from the fact that it didn't take my views into consideration, it also pretty much took for granted that there was a need for an Evil Overlord. Not to mention that there needed to be someone to lord it over, as it were. At the moment, there wasn't a great call for it, considering the way the last Lord had been shot down in flames, so to speak. All in all, it was a pretty crap idea as a plan for someone's future career and wouldn't go down at all well to an advisor. They'd probably give you the usual guff about it being a really difficult industry to get into and had you considered being a bus driver or something?

I kicked the table leg in irritation, knowing full well it would have earned me a sharp rebuff from Father had he been there.

"But he's not, is he?"

I shoved my chair back with no concern for the highly polished wooden floor and threw my napkin down on the table before marching off in a fit of pique.

"How dare you do this to me? How dare you plan my whole sodding life for me, without my consent I may add, and then just bloody disappear!" I stormed the corridors back to my room, my good mood completely blown and the first day of my holiday ruined.

"Tut tut, young man."

"Youngsters today, they just have no concern for their elders. I was trying to sleep."

The portraits of early Malfoys muttered in my wake as I thundered past but I paid my ancestors no heed till I rounded a corner at full pelt and practically ran into one of them.

"Mother!"

I came to a rapid halt as I found her slumped against a wall next to the dark painting of an unidentified young man who had shrunk against the side of the frame and was staring at her aghast.

"Mother?" She was leaning on the wall with one arm thrown protectively round her head and I couldn't figure out whether she was holding the wall up or the wall was holding her up. This was not a normal pose for my usually refined and sedate parent.

I wasn't sure what was the best thing to do; should I try to talk to her or just leave her alone? A sudden clinking drew my attention to the hand down by her side, which I hadn't noticed before as her body shielded it from me. She seemed to be holding something, a glass tumbler containing a small amount of a clear liquid and from the ice cubes within, I was prepared to bet that it wasn't water.

Drinking? At this time of the morning?

I took a step to her side and placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, feeling as I did so the slight shaking there.

"Mother, I - "

I wasn't sure what the reaction would be. Neither of my parents were what you would call tactile. Maybe a gentle shrug of the shoulder to indicate I should remove my hand or perhaps a small step to the side taking me out of her personal space? I didn't expect her to suddenly whirl round to face me and collapse on me with a great wail and huge wracking sobs. I caught a glance of the young man in the painting who was now looking both hugely relieved and rather smug.

"Talk about out of the frying pan," I muttered inwardly. Mother was putting all her weight on me and although a slight woman, she was still a good head taller than I. Her body shook and I could feel my shirt getting damp where her tears were soaking through.

"Come on now, Mother," I tried to say soothingly, and feeling increasingly awkward patted her on the back. What on earth did one do to a crying woman? Why was this never covered in my upbringing?

There was a muffled response and I managed to make out the words 'baby' and 'gone'. Baby? What baby? And gone where? A repulsive thought came to me and I was horrified. Was she referring to Father? I had a sudden violent urge to vomit.

I had to get Mother back to her rooms somehow but she seemed incapable of something as simple as putting one foot in front of the other. I managed to manoeuvre her so that she was hanging on to my shoulder and I could support her with one arm round her back and the other under her elbow. Coaxing as best I could, we began the slow laborious task of walking down the corridor, and all the while she muttered under her breath.

"Gone 'way," she slurred. "Poor baby." A fresh deluge of tears assaulted my shirt.

"That's it, Mother, this way," I urged, aware that I was half carrying and half dragging her along, while grotesque mental images of my parents plagued me.

"Hurts me."

"Yes, Mother, I know it hurts," I replied, adding in thought, "though not in quite the same way it will hurt you later on."

"Want baby back, my baby," she hiccuped. "Want hold him again, love him."

I had visions of my parents sitting at the table in the dining room bathed in candlelight, gazing into each others eyes in adoration; holding hands and smiling at each other like love-sick teenagers; permanently joined at the lips like some of the kids at school; and then surrendering to a fit of passion and tearing each others clothes off before sinking down onto the bed and -

Trying hard not to retch, I kicked open the door to Mother's bedroom leaving a black streak against the white paintwork and cursed the damage to my shoe. I'd have to get another pair to replace these.

"Here we are, Mother. Now, why don't you just lie down on the bed?" I was aware that I was talking to her as to a child and inwardly winced. I covered the distance to the bed on shaking legs and once there, she just collapsed on it like a rag doll. The glass fell out of her hand and due to the thickness of the carpet, didn't smash but rolled instead under the bed where I left it. Its meagre contents soaked into the carpeting but the house elves would deal with that.

Standing up, I placed both hands in the small of my back and stretched it thankfully. If I never had to do that again, it would be far too soon. With a sigh, I studied Mother, realising that she had either fallen asleep or passed out. She looked pale and tired, and there were dark circles around her eyes making her look so much older; her usually immaculately made-up face was blotchy and her nose was red, while her long hair, her pride and joy, had partly fallen out of its usual chignon and hung stringy and tangled. She had obviously been crying and drinking for some time but the thought of her going to pieces like this over Father was extreme to say the least.

Taking a step back, I heard something crunch under my foot and noticed that I'd inadvertently stood on a sheet of parchment. Picking it up, I saw one or two other sheets scattered over the cream carpet and collected those as well. The sound of barking from outside in the grounds alerted me to the fact that the window in front of her bureau was wide open so a breeze had obviously sent the papers flying around the room. I dumped them on the bureau and reached across it to pull the window shut.

A gentle snoring from Mother reminded me that I was in her private room, a place I hadn't been allowed into since I was a very small child. I felt as though I was intruding and slowly tiptoed out of the room, even though the carpet was so thick, it would have muffled a herd of wildebeest running through. I closed the door softly behind me and leaning back against it, breathed a sigh of relief.

As I walked back to my room, I thought about my Mother who had apparently drunk herself into a stupor over the loss of her beloved husband. It was a most bizarre thought. In the tower room that jutted out from the corner of my bedroom, I sank down onto the couch and gazed over in the direction of the portrait of my parents taken on their wedding day. It had hung on the wall directly opposite my bed until I reached my teens and the idea of my parents watching me in bed made me feel quite ill. I had relegated it to the furthest wall where it was hidden in a narrow nook beside my wardrobe. In the photograph, Mother was talking to someone out of shot and Father appeared to be threatening the photographer.

It's hard for any child to imagine their parents as being all lovey-dovey but with mine it seemed to be particularly difficult. I racked my brain to recall a moment when they had shown each other anything remotely resembling some kind of affection but drew a blank. I stretched out full length on the couch and pulled at my lower lip, lost in thought. When I really put some thought to it, I was hard pushed to say exactly why my parents had got married at all. Thinking about it logically though, what woman in her right mind would turn down Lucius Malfoy, right hand man to the Dark Lord?