D is for Draco (and Done Deeds) [HP; several characters; PG]
Title: D is for Draco (and Done Deeds)
Author: ladyblack888
Summary: He knew his mother would take care of him as long as she could, that she'd protect him of everything she could.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, Nymphadora Tonks, Andromeda Tonks, Teddy Lupin
Rating: PG (for mentions of canon deaths).
Spoilers: The entire series.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Original story: D is for Draco by lilian_cho.
A/N: I took some liberties with both Draco's birthday date and Dumbledore's death date (give or take a month). This is finally beta-ed!
When Draco was just a baby Narcissa was his world and her world was Draco. Even when he got older and started exploring the world outside in the garden and out of the shadows, it was with the sound of her voice that he'd fall asleep.
Until one night he found out that she wasn't named after a star or a constellation, like everyone in her family was. She was named after a flower that withers and dies, long before the stars will fade away and he woke up crying.
The following night, when Narcissa came to tuck him in, Draco pretended to be already asleep. He knew his mother would take care of him as long as she could, that she'd protect him of everything she could.
But he had realized that if he didn't take care of her, she wouldn't be able to do that for very long.
Every year, on his birthday, Narcissa would plan a big garden party for him. In a way it was like a season opening for the Wizarding high-society, but she never let anyone forget the party was about him. Because he was still the world for her and no one, not even him, could ever forget that.
Those parties were always themed after dragons, themed after him.
But when Draco went to Hogwarts, there was no one there to plan parties. He was no longer the centre of everything. No, they had Potter for that.
But Narcissa still sent him treats. Little dragon-shaped cookies, that would fly around in his dormitory when their box was opened and silk handkerchiefs with silver and green embroidered dragons. Draco never opened those presents at school, afraid of being mocked, but he'd keep them religiously, a reminder of home, a reminder of her. And keeping those gifts safe was like keeping her care, her love safe, was like keeping her safe.
When Draco turned seventeen there was no gifts for him, though. His mother had his aunt around all the time and was too worried to think about anything else than saving him from death. Too worried to think about his birth.
And Draco had spent the entire year fading deeper and deeper into the shadows, until his friends weren't sure whether he was still around.
It was his birthday, his coming-of-age, and he should be celebrating it with his friends, but instead he was alone in Hogsmeade, his chest still tingling where Potter's curse had hit him.
He should be thinking of his mission, but all he wished was that he could be enjoying the day, no other worry on his mind.
And then he saw his cousin. Her hair was brown and her face looked too plain, but he knew her. She gave him a bemused look when she saw him all alone, when everyone else was at The Three Broomsticks and after making sure no one was watching, she scrunched up her nose. For a moment there Draco thought he had seen her hair becoming striped in green and silver, but it was still brown. She just shrugged, threw a small package at him and was gone.
Inside the package was a small dragon brooch made of silver. The silver was probably Muggle and it was so frail the little wings would bend at the slightest touch. And all Draco wanted was to laugh. For a moment it was his birthday and nothing else and he pinned the little dragon inside his robes.
A few days later Dumbledore died. The Death Eaters took over and when everything seemed to be on the road to perfection, the battle came.
Draco saw death. He saw his friends die. He saw death coming for him.
But when it ended, they were still together, the Malfoys, free, and Draco found out what his mother had done to save him.
The years went by and the Wizarding world is again what it was. Not the utopia that had been promised to him, but not the dystopian world that it almost became, either, and in Diagon Alley the business flourishes.
A young man that Draco remembers having been from Hufflepuff smiles at him and the Daily Prophet talks about Blaise's and his third (forth?) wife's honeymoon around Europe.
A child cries and that's when Draco sees her. He recognises her from the few moving pictures that escaped destruction after she ran away.
One night, when he drank too much, his father had told him how the oldest sister had been the more attractive, with her sultry good looks, how the youngest had been the prettiest, fresh and easily liked, but how the beautiful one had been the middle sister. But that beauty has long been gone under sorrowful marks on the corners of her mouth and too many greys in her head. The passage of time that could easily be erased with a basic spell, but there are too many losses on her shoulders for her to worry about the loss of her beauty.
The boy can't be older than five and is throwing a tantrum. His face is almost as purple as his hair and he's pulling the hem of his grandmother's robes. She's trying to calm him down, but Draco can see she's at her wits' end.
He approaches them, but when she sees him she straightens her back, raising her chin at him, and he wants to step back. Instead he picks the small silver dragon he still uses inside his robes like a charm. With an easy spell the pin and the hard edges disappear. Another spell and the little wings start to flutter.
The small dragon flies three times around the mesmerized boy, before landing softly on his hands.
'Someone I'm sure you'd like very much gave it to me many years ago.' Draco smiles awkwardly. He has never been very good with children. 'Will you take good care of it for me, now?'
The boy nods, sniffing. Draco looks at her and sees the expression on his aunt's face soften. He nods at her and walks away.
They'll never know who gave him the dragon in the first place.
The End
Author: ladyblack888
Summary: He knew his mother would take care of him as long as she could, that she'd protect him of everything she could.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, Nymphadora Tonks, Andromeda Tonks, Teddy Lupin
Rating: PG (for mentions of canon deaths).
Spoilers: The entire series.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Original story: D is for Draco by lilian_cho.
A/N: I took some liberties with both Draco's birthday date and Dumbledore's death date (give or take a month). This is finally beta-ed!
When Draco was just a baby Narcissa was his world and her world was Draco. Even when he got older and started exploring the world outside in the garden and out of the shadows, it was with the sound of her voice that he'd fall asleep.
Until one night he found out that she wasn't named after a star or a constellation, like everyone in her family was. She was named after a flower that withers and dies, long before the stars will fade away and he woke up crying.
The following night, when Narcissa came to tuck him in, Draco pretended to be already asleep. He knew his mother would take care of him as long as she could, that she'd protect him of everything she could.
But he had realized that if he didn't take care of her, she wouldn't be able to do that for very long.
Every year, on his birthday, Narcissa would plan a big garden party for him. In a way it was like a season opening for the Wizarding high-society, but she never let anyone forget the party was about him. Because he was still the world for her and no one, not even him, could ever forget that.
Those parties were always themed after dragons, themed after him.
But when Draco went to Hogwarts, there was no one there to plan parties. He was no longer the centre of everything. No, they had Potter for that.
But Narcissa still sent him treats. Little dragon-shaped cookies, that would fly around in his dormitory when their box was opened and silk handkerchiefs with silver and green embroidered dragons. Draco never opened those presents at school, afraid of being mocked, but he'd keep them religiously, a reminder of home, a reminder of her. And keeping those gifts safe was like keeping her care, her love safe, was like keeping her safe.
When Draco turned seventeen there was no gifts for him, though. His mother had his aunt around all the time and was too worried to think about anything else than saving him from death. Too worried to think about his birth.
And Draco had spent the entire year fading deeper and deeper into the shadows, until his friends weren't sure whether he was still around.
It was his birthday, his coming-of-age, and he should be celebrating it with his friends, but instead he was alone in Hogsmeade, his chest still tingling where Potter's curse had hit him.
He should be thinking of his mission, but all he wished was that he could be enjoying the day, no other worry on his mind.
And then he saw his cousin. Her hair was brown and her face looked too plain, but he knew her. She gave him a bemused look when she saw him all alone, when everyone else was at The Three Broomsticks and after making sure no one was watching, she scrunched up her nose. For a moment there Draco thought he had seen her hair becoming striped in green and silver, but it was still brown. She just shrugged, threw a small package at him and was gone.
Inside the package was a small dragon brooch made of silver. The silver was probably Muggle and it was so frail the little wings would bend at the slightest touch. And all Draco wanted was to laugh. For a moment it was his birthday and nothing else and he pinned the little dragon inside his robes.
A few days later Dumbledore died. The Death Eaters took over and when everything seemed to be on the road to perfection, the battle came.
Draco saw death. He saw his friends die. He saw death coming for him.
But when it ended, they were still together, the Malfoys, free, and Draco found out what his mother had done to save him.
The years went by and the Wizarding world is again what it was. Not the utopia that had been promised to him, but not the dystopian world that it almost became, either, and in Diagon Alley the business flourishes.
A young man that Draco remembers having been from Hufflepuff smiles at him and the Daily Prophet talks about Blaise's and his third (forth?) wife's honeymoon around Europe.
A child cries and that's when Draco sees her. He recognises her from the few moving pictures that escaped destruction after she ran away.
One night, when he drank too much, his father had told him how the oldest sister had been the more attractive, with her sultry good looks, how the youngest had been the prettiest, fresh and easily liked, but how the beautiful one had been the middle sister. But that beauty has long been gone under sorrowful marks on the corners of her mouth and too many greys in her head. The passage of time that could easily be erased with a basic spell, but there are too many losses on her shoulders for her to worry about the loss of her beauty.
The boy can't be older than five and is throwing a tantrum. His face is almost as purple as his hair and he's pulling the hem of his grandmother's robes. She's trying to calm him down, but Draco can see she's at her wits' end.
He approaches them, but when she sees him she straightens her back, raising her chin at him, and he wants to step back. Instead he picks the small silver dragon he still uses inside his robes like a charm. With an easy spell the pin and the hard edges disappear. Another spell and the little wings start to flutter.
The small dragon flies three times around the mesmerized boy, before landing softly on his hands.
'Someone I'm sure you'd like very much gave it to me many years ago.' Draco smiles awkwardly. He has never been very good with children. 'Will you take good care of it for me, now?'
The boy nods, sniffing. Draco looks at her and sees the expression on his aunt's face soften. He nods at her and walks away.
They'll never know who gave him the dragon in the first place.
The End