
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2836298.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Character:
      Draco_Malfoy, Malfoy_Family_-_Character
  Additional Tags:
      Time_Travel, Pureblood_Society, Pureblood_Culture, Mpreg, Bottom_Draco,
      Draco_centric, Submissive_Draco, Rape, Rape_Aftermath, Violence, Dragons,
      Creature_Fic
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-12-24 Updated: 2016-09-02 Chapters: 14/? Words: 28413
****** A return to blood roots ******
by Serena90
Summary
     The Malfoy Family has become weak. The once powerful warriors have
     become skilled politicians, but their skills aren't enough to free
     themselves of the Dark Lord. Draco Malfoy will change this. He will
     learn the ancient warrior skills of his family.
     Unfortunately, his ritual doesn't work as expected and Draco Malfoy
     finds himself in ancient times.
***** Chapter 1 *****

The first time Draco Malfoy saw his Patriarch cower and kiss the heel of the
Dark Lord's robes, he had a revelation. Lucius Malfoy was weak. In fact, he
determined as he felt fear course through his body, the last generations of
Malfoys were weak. Very skilled in the political arena, extremely agile in the
corporate environment, but useless in battle.
The fearsome and powerful warriors of the old times had adapted to restricting
their wars to the Wizengamot. Every member of the parliament knew better than
to mess with a Malfoy: they would be bribed, blackmailed or threatened into
appropriate behaviour. Yes, they were very accomplished politicians; especially
considering the harsh blow the Family Name had received when his Father was
accused of being a Death Eater.
Their talent wasn’t just restricted to politics, they knew how to identify
stalkers, kidnappers, hired mercenaries, all sorts of poisons and dispose of
possible threats. However, what was needed now was a strong leader, a warrior.
Someone who could become the Paterfamilias, look at the Dark Lord in the eye
and proclaim that Malfoys weren’t followers but allies, someone to protect the
Family and the honour of the line.
Draco knew he wasn’t that person. But he could become that person. It was in
his blood, he just had to find a connection to the generations of ruthless
mages who had destroyed entire cities and conquered countless lands. So while
his whole family whimpered and grovelled at the Dark Lord’s feet, he holed up
in the library.
The Malfoy Heir was nothing if not perseverant as his long time obsession with
Potter could confirm. When his Ancestral Family Manor became the Dark Lord’s
headquarters, he stayed in the library. When his dungeons were used to house
prisoners who were in his same year at school, he stayed in the library. When
the Death Eaters who had invaded his home mocked him calling him weak and
coward, he stayed in the library.
Once he found what he had been looking for, he informed his parents he was
going to France to not raise suspicions since he did spend a month in France
every year. His mother looked particularly relieved at the announcement. So the
young Slytherin ordered the house-elves to fill the black trunk with all his
things, he worded it with care making sure they would pack all his things but
if someone pointed it out, he could say the house-elves had been overzealous.
The same afternoon, he went to Gringotts and drained his account which
consisted on his Trust Fund, his Black vault and his Malfoy Heir vault, putting
all the money, jewels and heirlooms in the last compartment of his trunk. Once
back in the Manor, he made sure all his belongings were in the trunk; every
book, every trinket and every robe. He pressed the button that made it shrink
until it was no bigger than a nail and he hid it inside his medallion, which
had a secret compartment inside.
Then he headed downstairs to speak with his Father in his office. His Patriarch
was studying some documents on his enormous desk with a focused expression.
Since the Dark Lord had come into their home, his father, who was young for a
wizard, seemed to have aged two decades. Although, Draco supposed it wasn’t
only the constant worry that aged the Death Eater, the numerous punishments
from the Dark Lord had probably damaged his Father’s body.
“Father”, he greeted his diminished Patriarch respectfully, after all, he had
been raised in the Old Ways.
“Draco”, responded Father, raising his silver eyes from the papers on his desk.
“I wished to speak with you in private”, he explained simply, letting his
father know to cast the necessary spells to avoid their conversation being
overheard.
Father's severe eyes narrowed and he discreetly waved his dark wand, casting
complicated wordless spells that would lead anyone listening in to think they
were chattering about inane matters. The Malfoy Heir approached his
Paterfamilias eagerly, until he stood in front of the enormous Victorian desk.
“What is this, Draco? You know we can't take any risks right now”, the adult
wizard scolded him sternly.
“I know, Father, but I wish to take some of the heirlooms with me”, he stated
simply, his face impassive as he had been taught from a young age.
Lord Malfoy's eyes widened almost unperceptively at the bold request, “Do you
believe it wise?” the wizard questioned, scepticism clear in his voice.
Jeopardising the safety of their heirlooms was, indeed, generally an unwise
course. Even so, Draco believed the circumstances merited it. The Dark Lord
relied heavily on the Malfoys’ fortune and he was a threat to the heirlooms the
Family had accumulated for thousands of years. He wouldn’t let that wizard
touch any other heirloom of their family.
“Their safety isn’t assured in Malfoy Manor anymore. This war is already
dilapidating our vaults at Gringotts and he's already found use to some of our
heirlooms, how long do you think it will take him to squander all of them? The
heirlooms you choose shall be transported to a… safer venue”, Draco answered
calmly.
“What makes you believe that you could protect them better than I would?”
inquired icily his Patriarch.
“I'll hide them in Malfoy Fortress”, he replied, his confidence in the hiding
place clear in his posture.
His Paterfamilias stilled, staring at him seriously, “Are your plans to spend
this month in Malfoy Fortress instead of France?”
“Yes, Father”, the young blond, answered.
There was a pause of silence in the conversation. His Father was contemplating
Draco’s proposal. In most cases, it would be unthinkable to trust such
important items to a young, unprepared member of House Malfoy. Such desperate
courses of action were only taken as extreme measures; when they were invaded.
But hadn’t their ally, the Dark Lord, betrayed them and invaded their home?
“Draco, there's a reason our family moved to Malfoy Manor two hundred of years
ago. Malfoy Fortress is rather... temperamental. It's a violent semi sentient
building. Is it truly your wish to spend your summer there?” questioned coldly
the Death Eater.
“Yes, Father. Malfoy Fortress would never be invaded”, he responded, knowing
Father would complete the sentence with 'it would never be breached by Death
Eaters; the Fortress would kill them first. Not like Malfoy Manor which has
surrendered to the Dark Lord'.
The Malfoy Patriarch thought in silence for some long seconds, weighting the
pros and cons of this decision. Finally, he nodded decisively and stood to lead
his Heir into the secret chamber that held the most important heirlooms of the
Malfoy Family. Draco had only been there thrice in his life, when he was six
and the magic accepted him as the Malfoy Heir, when he was eleven since it was
the age their magic started to define and grow and when he was fourteen which
was when he could be emancipated.
They passed numerous wards and a confusing array of secret passages to get to
the huge chamber. The experience had never been agreeable with Draco. The
different wards made the entire way seem hazy and undefined, so as to prevent
mind intruders learning of the chamber’s location. To Draco’s well-constructed
mind, it was a most upsetting experience.
Inside the secret chamber, the most incredible heirlooms of their line resided;
amulets with strong undetectable glamour spells that changed your appearance
completely, rings that protected the mind from invasion, gems that amplified
all sorts of magicks, armours that could resist the deadliest spells, ancient
books... For a few minutes, the blond pureblood just stood in awe of the
quantity of magical items his family had amassed over the years.
As a pureblood of the Old Ways, Draco had been raised learning of his House’s
prowess. His fairy tales had been stories of his ancestors and his lullabies
songs of ancient Malfoy love stories or war stories. However, his House’s age
and strength was never more evident than when he looked at the amassed
treasures his Family had gathered through the centuries.
Draco took out his white gold medallion, which pictured the Family Crest of the
House of Malfoy. At least, it had the last renovated version that came from the
eighteenth century. Through the years, the dragon in their coat of arms had
become more and more serpentine until the eighteenth century dragon looked more
like a winged snake.
He opened the locket’s secret compartment, taking out a second trunk he had
prepared hoping Lord Malfoy would allow him to take away some of their
heirlooms. As his Father pointed out heirlooms, he was slightly surprised by
the sheer amount his Patriarch wanted him to hide away. After all, most of
these items were priceless and it was strange to be trusted with objects so
valuable. Nevertheless, he supposed his Paterfamilias didn't have much choice.
It was either trust him to carry them to safety or eventually relinquishing
them to the Dark Lord. A decision that no pureblood proud of their legacy
wished to ever do.
Once he had gathered all the heirlooms to be spirited away, they returned to
Father's office. It was with fascination as Draco watched his Patriarch erase
his memory of the heirlooms they had chosen. It took high skill in Occlumency
for a wizard to safely delete memories. It was necessary to delete those
memories to avoid the Dark Lord ever learning of their existence, even if the
Dark Lord raped his Father’s mind, he would never know of them.
As soon as his Father was finished dabbling with his memories, Draco was
allowed to leave the office. He made sure to prepare well for the trip to
Malfoy Fortress and gave a heartfelt farewell to his parents as he left Malfoy
Manor.
 
Malfoy Fortress was as unwelcoming as he had expected. The wards recognized his
blood and let him pass; yet Draco had the distinct impression that they
considered him unworthy of being the Heir of the Family. It wasn't odd, though,
considering Malfoy Fortress appreciated warriors and Draco was no warrior.
The blond wizard quickly went to one of the ritual chambers; he knew he was
cutting it close having only four hours to prepare the ritual. But the
discovery of the spell, devising the ritual and defining the ideal time to
complete it had taken hours upon hours of research. Furthermore, the best next
date was one month and a half later.
He cleaned the chamber using as little magic as possible to avoid the
contamination of the magic of the ritual. Draco quickly made the potion he used
later to draw the pertinent symbols. He placed the seven crystals that would
amplify the power of the ritual, in order to reduce the amount of magic it
would demand from him. He put the three offerings in their appropriate places.
He bathed with the correct potion to purge himself of foreign magic and dressed
himself in an expensive set of traditional robes, finding it fitting.
Once it was time, he stood in his place readying himself to start the ritual.
In his research, he had discovered a spell that allowed someone to have
impressions of his ancestors. Draco had gone a step further and devised a whole
ritual that would allow him to turn those impressions into blocks of memories
that would be transmitted to him. Of course, he had limited which memories
since his brain didn't have the capacity to remember hundreds of lives. His
objective was to receive the memories of how their offensive and defensive
magicks were done to gain an edge over Voldemort. Even the Dark Lord wouldn't
know about wards or curses from hundreds of years ago.
His medallion heated against his porcelain skin, alerting him that it was time
to begin. Draco undid the alarm spell and inhaled deeply before starting the
spell. He didn't know what would happen if he were to mess it up. He started
chanting, his eyes closed as he focused on the flux of magic he could feel.
Everything was going as planed when the Malfoy Heir felt foreign magic
intruding in the ritual.
The magic was from the Malfoy Fortress. It wasn’t unusual for the ritual to use
ambient magic. In fact, he had planned to use this location because the magic
of the Fortress would power up his own spell. Yet, this wasn’t ambient magic,
this magic had intent. He couldn't recognize its purpose, although he knew it
wasn't harmful. He bit his lower lip; he couldn't stop now. If he stopped the
magic of the ritual would turn against him and he didn't want to become a
squib. He only hoped that the foreign magic wouldn't muck up the ritual, he had
no wish to end up dead.
The magic flow started to accelerate, circling Draco and growing in girth. The
blond started to pant as he continued chanting, the ritual was leeching more
magic from him than expected which made no sense because it had taken more than
expected from the Fortress too.
He could feel his body growing weak while his magical reserves were rapidly
consumed. He started to feel lightheaded and his body started to sway. He
opened his silver eyes to try to focus, but the stream of colours from the
magic flow only made him dizzy. Small dots of black appeared in his vision. His
knees bucked and he fell to the hard floor. Finally, he lost consciousness.
 
***** Chapter 2 *****
Draco furrowed into the comfortable pillow, sighing in contentment at the cosy
warmth he was surrounded with. His blond eyelashes fluttered as he sleepily
opened his silver eyes. He drowsily rubbed his eyes with his slender right hand
while he sat up. The familiar magic around him was distinctly that of Malfoy
Fortress. The stone floor was covered in a thick Persian carpet that seemed to
encompass the entire room and was coloured with rich burgundy, dark blue and
beige. The four-post bed was made in similar colours as well as the curtains
surrounding it that were opened only in on the left side of the bed.
He frowned wondering how he had ended up there. He doubted the Fortress or its
house-elves would be motherly enough to tuck him in and, his frown deepened,
change his clothes into a linen night robe. Gingerly the beautiful Slytherin
stepped out of the bed and looked to the elegant room as a whole for the first
time. There was an enormous fireplace that was currently harbouring a fire and
a mahogany night table on the other side of the bed with an everlasting candle
on it. The weak sunlight that came from the small windows indicated it was
daytime.
The fair-haired wizard was startled out of his thoughts by a knock on the door.
It was impossible! The only habitants of the Fortress were a couple of house-
elves who wouldn't knock. Had someone intruded the fortress? But it was
impossible! Its magic was too strong even after being consumed by the ritual.
Yet, there was someone behind the door and his magic reserves were too depleted
to do anything about it. And they were knocking, if they were intruders they
wouldn't knock, would they?
Now that he thought about his weak state, his legs trembled, making him return
to the bed. He dived under the blankets and put his pillows in place so that he
could sit up comfortably. He laid his hands on his lap, inhaled and exhaled
deeply to regain some calm. He then put on an unaffected mask.
“You may come in”, he said faking a serene voice.
A witch who looked round seventy or a squib on her late fifties came in
(wizards aged better and had longer lives than any creature without magic). Her
brown hair streaked with white framed her round and pale face. She had a kind
albeit weary face, like someone who had had many hardships yet remained
tenderhearted. She was dressed in green traditional middle class robes, not of
poor quality but not outstanding either.
A young man in his twenties who carried a box who resembled a healer's coffret
followed her. In the Old times, healers would carry their potions and herbs
there. The pale redhead was gangly and stood awkwardly next to who seemed to be
his mentor; he too was dressed in traditional robes, although his were humbler.
The pair seemed to have stepped out of one of the books his tutor in Old
History would show him when he was younger, explaining to him how wizards lived
in the Old times. If he were guided by those lessons, this would be a healer
due to the green shade of her robe and coffret, while the young wizard was her
apprentice.
The pair bowed to the height one would to greet someone above your position but
not a Lord or a Heir of a House, “Sir”
Draco responded with a curt nod to acknowledge them. There were very few people
who still followed the old traditions, most of them were the descendants of the
Old Houses. He studied them critically, what had made a middle class healer and
a young wizard decide to live by them? He had had no choice as he was raised
surrounded by these customs and educated by his tutors and parents this way,
not that he regretted following them.
“I am Healer Reid, under the command of his grace, the Duke of Malfoy and this
is my apprentice, young Colby Middleton”, she introduced herself.
The blond carefully hid his surprise. They were under the command of the Duke
of Malfoy, but he somehow doubted they meant his father or him. They were the
only surviving members of their House, but people had stopped using that title
long ago which, considering the ritual he had been doing, meant... He wasn't in
his time. He was in the Old times. It certainly explained his utter exhaustion
and why the ritual had sucked the Malfoy Fortress' magic. Why would Malfoy
Fortress send him here? How could he go back?
How did he even understand them? The Old Tongue was no longer truly spoken;
even a traditionalist like Draco only knew enough of it to use it in rituals
and greetings. Wizards had gradually stopped using the Old Tongue and started
to speak the simpler languages such as Latin and later on English. It was
bewildering to realise he was speaking in another language without even
realising it. The Old Tongue also carried more power than Latin or English; he
would have to be careful with it. There was a reason wizards had stopped
speaking it in a day to day basis.
He bit the inside of his mouth. While the language problem was interesting, he
was in a dangerous position. He had to focus on what it mattered. He was in the
past. He had to make sure he wasn’t seen as a threat, yet was offered
hospitality.
They would ask about his identity, what should he say? At least it was obvious
they thought he was somebody, because otherwise he wouldn't be in such a
luxurious bedroom nor would he have a healer looking after him. His hand
instinctively wrapped around his medallion, it had the Malfoy crest in it but
in this time the crest was different. He could say it represented another
House. But none had been extinguished by that time at least to his knowledge...
what to do? He needed more time but the healer was starting to wonder at his
silence.
“The Duke of Malfoy?”, he enquired politely.
“He is the Paterfamilias of the House of Malfoy, sir. The House of Malfoy owns
this land and is well known for their affinity to dragons. Some people call
them dragon riders, sir”, explained the Healer looking surprised he hadn't
heard of the Malfoys.
Dragon riders? He had really gone back in time, Malfoys hadn't been able to
control dragons for hundreds of years. The Malfoys from this era had taken some
of the dragon blood into their own line, which allowed them to bond with
dragons and control them. Although he had been told the legends as a young
child, he had never thought they were actually true, he had thought they were
merely glorified to amuse a little wizard with a fascination for dragons. He
had noticed, though, when he visited dragon reserves that dragons didn't react
to him as badly as they would a wizard.
His father sometimes had whispered into his ear that they had dragon blood
but... when he grew up, he dismissed the idea. He had known he had veela blood,
it had granted their family good looks with their porcelain skin and platinum
hair. He had known they had a bit of siren in them that gave them their unique
silver eyes and silky voices. However, those were humanoid creatures, they
could reproduce with wizards.
“Indeed, am I to assume I am in Malfoy territory?”, asked Draco.
“Yes, sir. You were found in the forest near the castle and the Duke of Malfoy
granted you residence”, confirmed the healer, “your magic reserves were drained
so the Duke of Malfoy assigned my services to you. The Duke of Malfoy will like
to know the identity of his guest, mister...?”
He couldn’t really lie. He was too afraid to lie speaking in the Old Tongue.
However, he was still a Slytherin and a modern Malfoy, he could twist the
truth. He could speak only the truth and imply other things. He thought
carefully of how to phrase it. He could say his name, but saying his surname
was out. He also couldn’t say he was a Black, since his mother’s family was Old
as well. Therefore, he couldn’t say any of his bloodlines without arousing
suspicion.
The best course would be to say no House at all. How could he justify that? The
Old times were troubled times. There had been great struggles of power between
the houses; entire houses had been wiped out. Some Houses had gone into hiding.
In fact, entire communities had gone into hiding. Draco had no doubt that even
in his day; some of those Houses were still living in unplottable land with no
interaction with the exterior for thousands of years.
That could be his excuse. Malfoy Manor was in unplottable land, even though it
wasn’t part of a secret, unplottable community. However, the wording would be
essential here. He had to dissuade further questioning, how could he do that?
If he spoke his true surname, there would be terrible consequences for him. The
Malfoy would surely take offense and… That was it!
“Draconis, I’m afraid my family resides in unplottable land and I can speak
very little of it without consequences”, he stated.
“The Duke of Malfoy will be informed. Your magic reserves are severely
depleted, sir, it will make you experience feebleness and the occasional
dizziness. I will provide you with a blue potion every morning that will reduce
these symptoms. You have been asleep for two weeks, but your recovery will
require at least another week of bed rest until your magic is outside of
dangerous low levels for a wizard of your magic core. After that, I recommend
to rest for most of the day but you could walk for ten minutes a day for a
week, increasing to ten minutes in the morning and ten minutes in the afternoon
for the third week”
This was worst than he had thought; he must have truly been in danger of dying
if he had been in a magical coma for two weeks. Even worse, after those two
weeks, his magic levels were still dangerously low. It would take very long for
a wizard of Draco’s core to fulfil his core again. There were a few rituals
that could help slightly, yet even they required a healthier core than Draco’s
at the moment.
Draco smiled weakly, “I see”
“Your reserves should be back to almost normal in five months if you don't cast
any spells. It would take longer, but Samhain is in four months and it will aid
your recovery”
He nodded in sincere gratitude. The healer and her assistant left, leaving
Draco to ponder on what to do in the past. Malfoy Fortress had interfered with
his ritual to send him to this specific time. He had wanted to become a true
warrior and it had send it to the past, in troubled times. Surely this meant he
was here to learn how to become a warrior? It would take time, especially since
he needed to recover his normal magic levels. However, this had potential. He
had no time limitations in the past. He could grow and become a great warrior
and then return to his timeline as a strong heir against Voldemort. As the
Malfoy Heir rested against his pillows, his silver eyes closing despite
himself, he could only feel relief.
%MCEPASTEBIN%
***** Chapter 3 *****
After the healer's visit Draco promptly fell asleep. He woke up slowly, his
mind sluggish from his magical exhaustion. Even in his drowsy state of mind,
his silver eyes were instantly drawn to the powerful figure standing next to
his bed, observing him. He was tall and broad. It was definitely a wizard; the
platinum blond could almost see his strong magic glow.
Although he looked to be in his mid twenties he could be even fifty; the more
powerful a wizard, the slower his ageing occurred. And according to his ability
to feel magic, the only person whose power compared was his Headmaster's and he
couldn't even be sure since the magics felt different. The stranger's magic was
more intense, untamed albeit controlled. His hair was black, shining a dark
green under the candles' light, and his eyes were a metallic golden, his pupils
were slit. He was a Malfoy.
“Draconis”, greeted him the wizard with a deep husky voice.
The younger wizard tried to sit up, but his elder put a stern hand on his
shoulder pushing him back into the bed. The pale boy flinched in surprise when
their body's connected, the alien magic caressing the point of their joint. He
hadn't been prepared for that since he hadn't expected his ancestor to actually
touch him. The blond beauty rested back into the bed, looking up to the other
Malfoy, trying to mask the uncertainty in his silver eyes. His ancestor was
being awfully familiar with him, calling him by his first name and touching
him. Although he supposed the other wizard didn’t have a surname to call him.
“I am Kendrick Malfoy, Heir of House Malfoy. I was the one who found you,
Draconis”, introduced himself confidently the other man, his eerie golden eyes
were trained on the Slytherin who resisted the urge to fidget under the
scrutiny.
The wizard’s intense gaze made the young Malfoy to wonder exactly where the
other had found him. If he had been found in the Malfoy Fortress, it would
explain some of the intensity in his ancestor’s eyes. Malfoy Fortress was
impenetrable in all the sense of the word, it would more than strange for a
person to have sneaked in. However, he doubted that a warrior from the Old
Times’ reaction upon seeing an intruder was to get him medical attention. A
warrior was likelier to slay the intruder without any hesitation.
“I thank you for your aid, my lord, I am deeply grateful for your help. Had you
not brought me here I wouldn't have survived, sir”, he thanked the older wizard
sincerely.
He was rather formal, even though the older wizard had taken quite a few
liberties. Nonetheless, he owed him a life debt so he supposed it was the least
he could do. Even though it was obvious the other was a warrior, especially
from the dragon hide armour that was peeking under the neck of his rich robes
that allowed mobility so maybe he was used to being curt. After all, warriors
were known to be rather abrupt, especially when they were used to a position of
leadership. They were used to spitting orders and having them followed
instantly and to the smallest detail.
“It was no hardship”, dismissed the warrior carelessly, staring at Draco.
The blond tilted his head to stare at him in confusion more comfortably since
the other was quite tall and he was laying down, the wizard from the Old Times
wasn't saying anything, yet he wasn't leaving either. Why had the other come?
As the Malfoy Heir he had a lot of duties, so why would he waste his free time
visiting him? Did he suspect his story?
Had he truly been found inside the Malfoy Fortress? But that couldn’t be, he
wouldn’t be alive if that had been the case no matter his state of
unconsciousness. He analysed the man’s appearance. His skin was slightly dried,
like one who had been subjected to sea winds. Malfoy Manor was close to the
sea, only a day by Abraxans. It was likely that the wizard had found him on
patrol around the Malfoy territory. At least, that was what he hopped. He
should subtly inquire to the healer. His ancestor seemed sharp enough to detect
something out of place in the innocent question.
He scrutinized the strong and handsome face, trying to get some insight in the
other's intentions, yet the stoic expression gave away no clues. The older
wizard held his stare until Draco could no longer look into the eerily metallic
golden eyes that swirled with what seemed to be pure magic and intent. The time
traveller heard muted steps coming closer to his enormous bed. He started to
raise his silver only to see uncomprehending as the other leaned forward, his
hand suddenly cupping Draco's soft cheek.
“Saving such a beautiful wizard as yourself would never be a hardship,
Draconis”, stated the warrior, his low voice rumbling deep in his chest and
ultimately seductive.
The fair-haired Slytherin felt his cheeks heat and he blushed, lowering his
silver eyes bashfully before he could control his reaction. This was
inconceivable! He managed to control his reaction when he found out he was
hundreds of years into the past and yet he blushed like a virgin maiden when he
was complimented. The other's thumb stroked his pink cheek gently despite being
slightly coarse from holding weapons like swords.
The lithe wizard resisted the urge to nibble his lower pink lip in anxiety, a
habit his Father had worked hard to make him abandon. His Father didn’t
tolerate such unbecoming behaviour from Draco. His feelings at the thought of
his proud Father went from uncertainty to anger. How dare the other mock him in
such way? He defiantly twisted his face out of the dragon rider's hold.
“Sir Kendrick, please say no more of this talk”, he responded sternly, his back
stiff with dignity as his silver eyes raged.
Golden eyes studied his reaction carefully and the warrior nodded sharply in
acceptance not protesting, backing away from the luscious bed and adopted a
distant and almost professional stance. The body language that had been so
inviting and seductive for Draco seconds ago went to unapproachable and
haughty. In return, the beautiful blond regained his composure.
“Healer Reid said that you were unable to inform us of your background”,
declared the dark haired wizard, pausing to allow the other to explain in an
attempt to manipulate the other into filling the silence with more information
that would be given otherwise.
The Ice Prince refused to feel uncomfortable by the awkward silence and only
repeated his earlier lie, “That it's true my family is under a spell, not
unlike the Fidelius”
He paused in his thoughts. He knew the Fidelius was the new version of an older
spell, yet he didn’t know how the magic that allowed him to speak and
understand the Old Tongue worked. There was recognition in Heir Malfoy’s face,
however he very much doubted they were speaking about the same version of the
spell. Did the magic automatically change his words to the closest thing in the
Old Tongue? That could be dangerous since he didn’t know what connotations some
words could carry. Draco was fluent in both English and French and he knew how
some words held different connotations regardless of supposedly meaning the
same thing.
“I see, so will you contact your family or will you wait until you're
recuperated to return?” inquired the warrior, his golden eyes revealing a weird
flash of emotion for less than a second, not long enough to interpreter it with
confidence, enough to know the other really desired an answer.
He felt a flash of longing at the thought of his parents, away not by distance
but by years. Draco had all the confidence that he would somehow be able to
return to his time once he had learnt all what he needed. However, there was a
small fear that he would be stuck in the past where he knew no one and where he
didn’t even have his House to support him.
He thought of what to reply to the other wizard and folded his hands on his lap
primly. His sharp silver eyes focused on the powerful warrior in front of him.
He didn’t want to display weakness. He doubted the brutal warrior from the Old
Times would appreciate weakness. Yet he did need the Malfoy’s haven, at least
until his magic was back to normal levels. He almost shivered at thinking of
being defenceless, without magic in such an uncivilised time.
“I am afraid I am unable to contact my family since I no longer have the
location in my mind, I'll have to stay here until I can find a way to...
reconnect”, was his ambiguous reply, since he didn't know how to get back to
the future.
The golden eyes flashed with satisfaction. It was worrying. The Malfoy Heir
seemed to lust after him, not an unusual reaction as Draco did have veela and
siren blood coursing through his veins. Kendrick’s interest could be a great
inconvenience. He hoped his rejection had made it clear to the other that he
had no interest in any dalliances. Draco was a Malfoy, he would have a true
bonding when he married and the ritual required him to be a virgin. He had no
interest in losing his ability to have a true bond with his spouse to cater to
some wizard warrior.
“Indeed, well, the Duke of Malfoy will offer his hospitality as long as you
need it”, affirmed the dragon rider although he didn't look particularly
welcoming or accepting in countenance, his tone was a bit too warm.
Draco resisted the urge to narrow his silver eyes in response. He wasn’t going
to give the Malfoy Heir any emotional response. Although he was displeased with
the man’s presumptions, he couldn’t exactly antagonise him. The danger of his
position really dawned up on him. He was alone, in the past, with no House to
protect him and no magic to defend himself. He would have died had it not been
for the Malfoys of the past and he was sure in the wilderness of the Old Times
without them. The Old Times were too violent, even the very magic in the air
was more aggressive than what Draco was accustomed to.
“And I thank the Malfoy Family for their hospitality, Sir Kendrick”, answered
Draco with excessive sweetness in his voice.
%MCEPASTEBIN%
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Notes
     Sorry for the delay updating! To make up for it, the chapter is a bit
     longer than usual ;)
Draco felt exhausted and he had only taken a few steps. He sat down on the bed,
frustration colouring his fair face. A pureblood wizard was pure magic: there
was magic in their blood, their skin, even their hair! Magical exhaustion
affected such wizards more strongly than it would muggleborns. His body was
used to being brimming with magic, its sudden absence made his body feel faint,
his mind was suffering as well; he felt constantly tired.
At least his magic core was at a healthier level, he could stay awake for
longer and longer every time and a few days ago he wouldn’t have dreamt of
actually walking! It was the sixth week of his stay in Malfoy Fortress, under
House Malfoy’s hospitality. To their credit, Draco hadn’t been disturbed with
visitors during his convalescence, even though he was sure their court was
highly curious as to the secretive wizard who had appeared out of thin air in
the Malfoy’s domain.
Draco had tried to take advantage of the brief bouts of awareness between
slumber to learn of Ancient House Malfoy’s ways and his situation there. Heir
Malfoy had found him in the Malfoy’s domains close to the sea. Apparently, Heir
Malfoy was in charge of their military and frequently patrolled their borders
on his dragon. The Malfoys of this time were truly bonded with dragons and
fierce in battle.
Dragons had a hefty price, a price was being paid even in Draco’s generation:
infertility. Indeed, the mixing of dragon blood with wizard blood, regardless
of its magic, wasn’t easy. No matter how fertile, Malfoy consorts struggled to
conceive a child of dragon blood. It was a great danger to House Malfoy,
especially in these warring times. The single child was more accepted in
Draco’s civilised times, as it avoided the splitting up of inheritance. In the
Old Times, it put House Malfoy in a very precarious position. It was what had
driven House Malfoy to be as vicious and ruthless in the battlefield as they
were, to discourage their enemies.
Although the translation, that Draco still had no explanation for, gave House
Malfoy the title of Dukedom, the Malfoys weren’t under the influence of any
monarch. Indeed, the Ancient Houses on the same level as House Malfoy weren’t
under the power of any other House. There were some neighbouring Houses that
proclaimed themselves Kings and Queens of their domains, such as House Falk,
Kings of a small group of islands. There were many Houses that either hadn’t
survived to Draco’s time or, more likely, had gone into hiding in the centuries
between this time and the time traveller’s.
It had been an astonishing discovery to see a map of this ancient world. Draco
knew that a map of Wizarding England looked different from that of Muggle
England, as Wizarding England held quite a few unplottable lands. However, he
had never thought that there could be such a difference with the Ancient times.
His theory that to his day, there were groups of wizards living in secret in
unplottable communities was looking increasingly likelier.
Draco was no cartographer, but even he could see could see a new island popping
out of nowhere. Instead of the two main British Islands: Ireland and the island
that contained England, Scotland and Wales; there was a third island. It wasn’t
the mythical Avalon, though, apparently even in Ancient times it had
disappeared years ago.
Once he had recovered from his shock, he had done his best to learn of the
Houses that inhabited the different lands. Draco thanked Morgana for his cover
story. It would have been impossible for him to feign all that knowledge, and
his cover story gave him the perfect alibi for his lack of knowledge. If he had
had to rely on his knowledge of the Ancient times, his questions would have
aroused suspicion already. 
Due to his lack of visitors, he had made good use of his assigned human valet:
a twelve-year-old boy named Athils. The valet was a wizard, although a weak
one. Draco approved more of his mind; it was a sharp for such an uneducated
youth. Athils was perceptive to the changes in atmosphere in court and relied
the pertinent information to the time traveller. The young Slytherin made sure
to be careful around him, he didn’t doubt that his valet was also a spy that
gave information to the Malfoys. As a proud Malfoys of the twenty-first
century, Draco only gave the information he wanted House Malfoy to learn.
“Lord Draco?” called out Athils, his brown eyes looking inquisitively at him
from the door, “I have come to help you dress for your introduction”
The young Malfoy restrained a grimace; he didn’t like the thought of meeting
the court while he was still so weak. However, he had little choice: he relied
on House Malfoy’s hospitality and a polite note had given the strong suggestion
that today he would have to introduce himself to Lord Malfoy, even if briefly
due to his health. He had no choice and he was a Malfoy, he might feel weak but
he would certainly not give away his weakness to any one else.
“Yes, I will wear the dark blue and silver robe and take the silver belt in the
first drawer”, he instructed his valet, nodding towards the closet.
Despite his inability to cast magic for weeks, his locket and his trunks didn’t
rely on his magic to activate. Therefore he had been able to take the trunk
with his clothes out and place them in the closet. In the middle of the night,
he had also opened the other trunk and carefully chosen a gift for his hosts.
It was a gift worthy of a King; he knew Duke Malfoy would appreciate the
gesture.
It had been hard to prepare for the introduction to court. He didn’t know the
court or its situation and had been forced to rely on gossip to prepare. He had
chosen a traditional robe in his House’s colours that proudly held his House’s
crest. Purebloods prided in strength, even more so in Ancient Times. Draco
might be a mystery, but he would remind the court that he was no weak wizard
without House. His expensive gift and his presentation would make it clear that
his House was rich and powerful and they didn’t wish to make enemies of Draco
regardless of his current lack of magic and allies.
Athils opened the closet and started sorting through the clothes, finally he
held a robe carefully, “Is this the robe you wish to wear, Lord Draco?”
It was lucky, and how Draco despised relying on luck, that his House’s colours
had changed in the thirteenth century and that his actual House crest resembled
more a winged serpent than a dragon. If his closet were full with clothes in
the ancient Malfoy colours and dragons, he would have been in more than a
little trouble.
“Yes, Athils”, he answered the boy calmly, his hands folded primly over his
lap. Even though he was still dressed in his under robes, he was the picture of
aristocracy.
The young boy hurried to help him stand up and put on the beautiful tunic.
Draco smiled slightly; he loved this formal robe for it was made of Acromantula
silk, it was the softest fabric in the world. Athils seemed fascinated by the
water-like texture, but his valet knew better than to ask him unrelated
questions before his introduction to court. Afterwards, the weak wizard
fastened the thin silver belt around his waist. Once he was dressed, his young
servant helped him sit in front of his vanity.
“What would you like to wear today, Lord Draco?” inquired politely the twelve-
year-old as he opened the leather jeweller. The Slytherin hid his smile at his
valet’s expression of wonder as he looked at the priceless jewels set in
velvet.
“The diamond and sapphire hair comb”, he instructed his servant.
His valet nodded and took out the beautiful jewelled hair comb, “How would you
like your hair styled, sir?”
“Let it loose, but take the locks in front of my face and crisscross them at
the back, there you will place the hair comb”, ordered Draco.
His valet started to brush his long blond hair with the young pureblood’s
silver brush. He would never understand why the muggleborns thought that long
hair was only for girls, the length of hair was a perfect way to distinguish
amongst classes. In fact, his long locks indicated he was the Heir of his
House. Although sometimes it was cumbersome, he did like it when people brushed
it, it was a pleasurable sensation that filled him with calm. As the Slytherin
had straight hair, the valet didn’t take long before he was placing the
exquisite hair comb in his hair.
Athils then rushed to take Draco’s dark blue shoes from inside the closet and
then helped him put them on. The Malfoy Heir stood up slowly as he studied his
reflection: he was wearing almost the same outfit he had worn for the Yule gala
last year. He looked like the Heir of a powerful House.
He hid a smile as he saw his servant’s fascinated face. The young boy had never
seen a veela or siren in his life; Draco was probably the epitome of beauty to
the unlearnt wizard. The Malfoy suspected that most of the people in court
would be the same as, in a warring environment, Wizarding societies tended to
be more insular. It was unlikely that any of the people in the court had seen
people with creature magic in their veins, with the notable exception of the
Malfoys of this time.
It would be a great advantage as beauty in wizards tended to be related to
their power. A wizard’s magic corrected any defects; therefore powerful wizards
were always attractive. Unless, they interfered with their magic with dark
rituals, of course, Draco shuddered as he remembered the decrepit monster that
was the Dark Lord. It had been disturbing to sense the incredible power behind
that awful face.
“It is time”, he stated as he spared the mirror one last look, “Lead me to the
court room, Athils, and don’t forget to take the coffer”
His young manservant hurried to grab the wooden coffer and offered his arm to
Draco in an awkward attempt at gallantry. The blond resisted the urge to smile
and took the arm; he was too weak to walk unaided for long. This was the best
option to walk in public, even if he resented the need for assistance.
It was the first time he walked out of his chambers. He was unsurprised by the
two guards in full armour that stood in front of his door. Athils had already
explained that he had protection at the door. From what Draco understood, it
wasn’t unusual for nobles to have guards at their door when staying in
another’s domain.
Despite himself, he felt a spark of smug pleasure at the widening of the
guards’ eyes when they rested upon him. Draco had always been a bit vain, a
characteristic veela trait. The guards quickly regained their bearings and
straightened to escort him. His façade remained serene as he was guided through
the corridors; he was a Malfoy and would act with grace. There were some
servants that saw him along the way and their expressions of wonder were simply
gratifying.
Finally, they paused near a majestic doorway. There were several guards
standing in front of it as well as a fat, short wizard. All of them paused at
the sight of Draco. It was clearly the entrance to the court. The young Malfoy
took his arm carefully away from his manservant, unwilling to display any sign
of weakness in front of the court.
“I am Draco”, he stated simply as the guards let him pass without a word.
He felt a strand of fear grasp his heart right before he stepped into court.
His survival in the Old Times depended on his ability to ingratiate himself
with House Malfoy’s court. He had to be held in House Malfoy’s good graces,
especially taking into account his weakened state. He couldn’t fail in this. He
had no House to support him right now if he failed.
He breathed in and maintained a serene expression as he walked into where the
court had gathered. He was fast to analyse his surrounding. It was a large
room, rectangular with thick stone columns; the light came from large windows
on the left side of the room. It was unusual for a fortress to have such big
windows, but Draco supposed House Malfoy had little to fear from the air, as
dragons protected them.
Duke Malfoy was sitting in a throne at the back of the room, casually speaking
with another Malfoy. Duke Malfoy seemed older than his own father; in muggle
years he would be fifty while he was probably seventy. The Malfoy he spoke with
was his younger brother; Athils had mentioned he was his most trusted right
hand. Heir Malfoy was standing next to his father, but a step bellow.
There were around fifty courtiers in the room, talking in small groups of four
and five. As the blond had expected, their rank was clearly distinguishable by
their clothing. There were the markings of minor Wizarding houses amongst them,
none that were recognisable by his time, as minor houses tended to change.
However, he had the information that Athils had relied to him.
As Draco observed the courtiers, he realised his mistake. The Malfoy Heir came
from a time where most battles were in politics, but this was a time of
warriors. The truly powerful were dressed as warriors, even if they wore no
chainmail or armour inside.
Whereas he was dressed in sumptuous silk, his appearance resembled more that of
the submissive partner in their marriages than that of a dominant, independent
wizard. In his time, his appearance would make it clear that he was a powerful
wizard from a powerful and rich House. In the Old Times, he looked like a
beautiful young maiden of marriageable age coming to court for the first time.
He struggled to maintain his serene disposition; it took only seven steps into
the room for the court to notice his entrance. This time, he felt no amusement
as he saw the widening of their eyes as they took in his beauty.
%MCEPASTEBIN%
***** Chapter 5 *****
A hushed silence fell over the courtroom. The young time-traveller could feel
all the eyes in the room fixed on him. He felt only dread as he realised that
they would all think him a maiden. It took Draco seven further steps into the
room to realise that he could use this. His inner chants of what a disaster it
was stopped abruptly. The part veela didn’t have the physical robustness of the
warriors of this era; it was unlikely that even in another pair robes these
warriors would have taken him for one of their own. It was better to be seen as
a maiden, than as a weak and failed warrior.
This way he wouldn’t be the mysterious wizard that could be a threat. Instead
of being a competitor and threat, he was now a prize to be won. He didn’t like
the idea. Draco was a powerful, independent wizard of his own right and he had
never thought of being the submissive partner in marriage. However, right now
he wasn’t powerful. He was and would be incapable of protecting himself for
months. It was for the best if no one thought of him as a menace.
In Old Times, the division between the dominant partners and the submissive
partners was stronger than in his own time. Unlike the ignorant muggles,
wizards knew that witches could be just as powerful or even more powerful than
their partners, not only in magic but in character as well.
That said, in Old Times, there was the ingrained idea that for a true marriage
there was a dominant partner and a submissive partner. In these warring times,
the dominant partner would be the warrior and the submissive partner would be
the maiden. The maiden wasn’t necessarily a witch, just as the warrior wasn’t
necessarily a wizard. The main idea was that the dominant partner would be in
control of the household, while the submissive partner would bear the children.
In modern Wizarding times, the division between the dominant partner and the
submissive wasn’t as strong. While Draco’s parents had a traditional marriage,
where his father was the dominant partner that was the Head of the household
and his mother took the more submissive role, there were plenty of marriages
that were more equal in terms of handling the future of their House.
All conversation had stopped as the courtiers observed as the young wizard
approached the throne where Duke Malfoy was seated. Draco breathed in slowly,
maintaining a serene façade, just because they believed him to be maiden didn’t
mean anything. He would go back to his time when he had learnt all he wanted
and marry there. The illusion wouldn’t hurt him. In fact, it would help him.
If they had thought him a warrior, there would be aggression in the eyes of the
court around him. Thankfully, as a maiden, their eyes were appraising. It was
even unlikely that he would create enemies amongst the parents of other
maidens; the highest honour was in marrying into the reigning house.
Unfortunately, in this case it meant the Malfoys.
The Malfoys infertility problem didn’t make them an appealing prospect for any
loving parent. From Athils’ information, it was well-known Malfoy consorts
tended to die in childbirth. In this generation, Heir Malfoy’s mother died
giving birth to him and Ragnvaldr, Duke Malfoy’s brother, had lost two wives to
childbirth and had no living child. Draco was thankful that in his time, the
fertility problem wasn’t as prominent; he shuddered to think of his mother in
such danger.
He paused in front of the throne. He would now strengthen the illusion of being
a maiden by curtsying. Draco had never curtsied before, although he had seen
his female friends do it occasionally when introduced to an aristocratic
wizard. His mind flashed to beautiful, elegant Daphne Greengrass.
The young time-traveller’s lips slipped into a soft, gentle smile and he
gracefully fell into a deep curtsey. He said nothing, as the higher title was
held by Duke Malfoy and therefore, Duke Malfoy ought to initiate the
conversation. Duke Malfoy watched him impassively, he was wearing a heavy
golden crown and his clothes were in green and gold, the colours of House
Malfoy and their dragons. Now that Draco was closer he could feel the untamed
power emanating from him and he was sure that his assumptions of his age were
wrong. The wizard must be at least a century.
His counsellor, his brother Ragnvaldr seemed wary of him. There was distrust
painted on the slight narrowing of his eyes. He would have to try to reassure
the wizard, as Duke Malfoy did trust his brother’s council. Heir Malfoy, of
course, was watching him with barely disguised desire in his golden eyes. The
blond Malfoy avoided Kendrick’s eyes, unwilling to play into the seduction
game. As he averted his silver eyes, he realised with a start that what he had
assumed was dragon hide armour beneath the clothes of the Malfoys were actually
their scales. The Malfoys had no scales on their faces, but they had at least
some scales on their necks.
“Young Draco, you were found by my son and Heir, Kendrick, in our lands.
However, we know very little of where you come from or why you came here”,
finally spoke Duke Malfoy, his voice cold.
The petite blond swallowed, he had not expected such open animosity on the
first meeting. It was silly, considering the Old Times were warring times. He
was too used to people disguising their animosity behind cold smiles and polite
comments that wounded their opponent. If Duke Malfoy was this aggressive with a
maiden, he wondered what the Dragon Lord would have done had he believed him a
warrior.
“Duke Malfoy, I want to thank you and your House for your hospitality. Without
your son’s aid, I wouldn’t have survived, I owe him a life debt”, he said with
the most genuine voice and face he could manage and continued, “I arrived to
your lands because of a magical mishap”
Draco paused, as he had to be very careful with his wording due to speaking in
the Old Language that allowed no lies to be spoken. He would have to use
misdirection to convey a story close to the truth; he would also use the fact
that they believed him to be a maiden to his advantage. He knew it was
considered chivalrous to protect a maiden and a source of shame for warriors to
hurt one.
The Dragon Lord raised a sceptical eyebrow, “A magical mishap?”
“My house and many more live in unplottable land and have for centuries”, he
said the implication was that several houses lived in unplottable land
together, when Draco was thinking of many houses that lived in their own
unplottable land.
“The different beliefs of our houses made our coexistence in the same world…
difficult. Our society split into two and each side chose a leader. My House
chose a leader of unparalleled power and knowledge long before I was born,”
Draco’s face twisted, he wanted to show his pain at the great error they had
made choosing Lord Voldemort.
“Regrettably our leader became mad. He started to behave irrationally torturing
and murdering not only his enemies, but his allies” he was careful to say
allies instead of followers, he didn’t want to reveal more weakness and he
doubted the Malfoys would appreciate it if he spoke of rebellion against
reigning Lords.
“He even started to demand things- things he had no right to”, he spoke,
thinking of House Malfoy’s inheritance, yet knowing the court would believe he
spoke of his virtue. His cheeks blushed a becoming pink shade; he casted down
his silver eyes and his hands straightened his robe at his thighs nervously. He
heard some maidenly gasps at the implications and some angry mutterings from
warriors.
“It reached the point where it was decided that I would flee to safety. My
Patriarch made some arrangements and I participated in a ritual that would send
me to my family safely”, his Father had approved of his flight and he had made
sure he would bring the priceless heirlooms, while the ritual had sent him to
family, “Yet, it didn’t work as it was supposed to and that is how I came to be
in these lands, your Grace”
He filled his silver eyes with gratitude and cast a gentle and maidenly look on
his face, “I was so afraid when I woke up and I couldn’t recognize the magic
around me and I couldn’t remember where my family was. I couldn’t understand
what had happened and how I ended up here. I must thank you again for your
hospitality, Your Grace, I truly don’t know what I would have done”
Draco had woken up disoriented and had not known where he was or where his
family was for a few seconds. Omitting it had only been for a few seconds was
no lie, so the Old Language allowed it with impunity.
“Maiden Draconis, you will have sanctuary and safety in Malfoy Fortress, no foe
will reach you here”, ruled Duke Malfoy.
“Thank you, Duke Malfoy, I would like to express my gratitude with this humble
offering”, he made an elegant gesture with his hand, to indicate Athils to
approach with the coffret.
The twelve-year-old manservant nodded and gave the coffret to another servant
who was older and better dressed. He was probably the Dragon Lord’s manservant
as he was allowed to approach the throne. The Duke opened the wooden coffer
slowly and his golden eyes widened. The powerful warrior took out the ring: it
was a gold ring with an emerald, what made it special was that it was a focus
ring, that is to say it worked similarly to a wand, channelling power and magic
even if it didn’t achieve such refined results. In the Old Times, they were
rare and one of such quality was rarer still.
There were some awed whispers from the crowd of courtiers. There was definitely
no doubt now that Draco came from a powerful and wealthy House and that the
petite blond gave them their sincere gratitude. The time-traveller had given
such a wonderful boon that it was truly a gift fit for a king.
Duke Malfoy nodded in approval of the gift and put the gold ring on, handing
the coffer to his manservant. Then he made a gesture signalling their
conversation had ended and Draco could retire. Gracefully, the blond beauty
curtsied again and backed away from the throne.
***** Chapter 6 *****
The last time Draco had been in the throne room, his audience hadn’t been long.
After it had ended, he had immediately retired to his chambers. No one had
taken offense since his magical exhaustion was well-known and it was most rude
not to pay attention to Duke Malfoy as he handled petitions. Draco’s visit to
the throne room had been a clean entrance and exit.
This visit wouldn’t be as smooth. He was well enough, now, to interact with the
court even if for short periods of time. Therefore, his appearance was expected
now. To not appear would be an insult to the nobles of Duke Malfoy’s court and
to his host. He had been missing for too long and although the whispers had
been in his favour, a prolonged absence wouldn’t. It wouldn’t do to be thought
of as a scared little mouse. Draco was a Malfoy, even at their weakest they
stood up strong. He grimaced at the memory of the Dark Lord humiliating his
father, no more.
He resisted the urge to glance at his reflection in the mirror in front of
Athils, he didn’t wish for his servant to inform the Malfoys of his hesitation.
He had used the few days at his disposal for rest to practice the art of acting
maidenly. As he had been raised as a dominant partner, he feared his mannerisms
would be too self-assured and presumptuous for a submissive partner. Therefore,
in Athils’ absence, he practiced in front of mirror, keeping in mind his
traditional and graceful mother.
He smoothed his soft grey robe carefully; it wasn’t as luxurious as the one he
had worn for his presentation. It was of rich cloth and heavily embroidered,
accompanied by a discreet silver brooch. It indicated he came from a wealthy
family, but it wasn’t the evident display of wealth that was in his
presentation.
Wearing clothes of such wealth everyday in court would gain him no allies. It
would be seen as an attempt to throw his weight around with his wealth. In
Ancient Times, although wealth was important, it was considered second to
strength and honour. Dressing that lavishly every day, would indicate a
weakness of character that would make him undesirable. Draco wasn’t worried
about not being an attractive prospect for marriage, yet his entire reputation
in court depended on his desirability. Just because he had no intention of
marrying, didn’t mean he had to lose what little power his desirability gave
him.
Once again, he made the trip to court accompanied by Athils. He still gained
stunned glances from the servants he encountered on the way. He wondered
whether the servants who had seen him before, had convinced themselves that
they had idealised Draco in their minds and upon seeing him again, realised it
wasn’t true. The beauty of a veela was dangerous, he mused.
He stepped into the courtroom. The courtiers were mingling around the large
room. There were several small groups of two or three couples talking. Unbonded
warriors went through those small groups, stopping by each group. There were
the groups of unbonded maidens on one side of the room sitting in chairs,
divans and ottomans. A small group of elderly women with stern expressions and
undecorated clothing stood nearby, their chaperons, realised Draco. Was it
scandalous that Draco had no chaperon?
The Duke’s brother, Ragnvaldr was circling around the room approaching some of
the small groups and speaking to them. It was clear Ragnvaldr was held in high
esteem, because all the warriors straightened their backs when they spoke to
him and seemed honoured by his attention. And Ragnvaldr was wary of Draco. He
resisted the urge to frown.
As an unbonded maiden, he considered distastefully, he should probably sit with
the unbonded maidens. Would it be too presumptuous to greet Duke Malfoy or
would it be seen as rude if he didn’t? He glanced to his right. Duke Malfoy was
sitting on his throne speaking to three warriors who stood in front of him. By
their richly decorated robes and their postures, they were important, probably
his advisors. As the Duke was already engaged, it would be seen insolent if he
interrupted their conversation to greet his host.
“Draconis”, greeted Kendrick, intercepting Draco before he could go to the
section with the unbonded maidens.
“Heir Malfoy”, he answered the dragon rider, giving him a deep courtesy. He
made sure to address the warrior in the most formal way possible, as the other
hadn’t even given him the courtesy of calling him maiden Draconis. Saying only
his name implied certain intimacy.
Kendrick had managed to catch him unaware. Had the Heir purposefully positioned
himself near the entrance, but where Draco wouldn’t see him when he entered the
room? It seemed conceited to think so, but the serpent golden eyes were focused
on him with an upsetting intensity. Draco lowered his gaze to the ground in a
maidenly move; he had practiced in front of the mirror. It made him seem pure
and modest. He hoped that would counter standing alone with a warrior after
only taking a few steps into the room.
“I hear your health is improving”, commented the green-haired Malfoy
confidently.
Draco could see that the small groups of courtiers were observing the exchange
carefully. The parents of maidens were probably relieved to see such an
expression of interest from Heir Malfoy. As Heir Malfoy, he was the most
highborn of possible suitors for their maiden children. However, no good parent
would wish for their children’s death at the birthing bed. Yet, the parents
wouldn’t be capable of refusing Heir Malfoy’s marriage proposal without
consequences.
Heir Malfoy’s forwardness was staking a claim on Draco. It was unlikely any
other warrior would approach him with intentions of courting when Heir Malfoy’s
interest was so obvious. So Draco was not only taking Heir Malfoy’s interest of
their maidenly children, he also wasn’t competition to their children to more
alluring prospects.
“That is so, my lord. My magical levels are slowly recovering”, he answered
politely, “I am very thankful for the assistance House Malfoy has provided me,
my lord”
“You ought to honour us with our presence more, then, maiden Draco, your beauty
brightens the entire courtroom”, complimented Kendrick.
Although he knew Heir Malfoy desired him, he hadn’t expected the dragonrider to
be so forward, at least not so soon. He had thought he would at least have
until he was stronger magically. However, there was now no doubt in his mind
that Kendrick had planned on staking his claim as soon as possible. He felt
like he could scream in frustration. It would have been easy to politely ignore
hints of Heir Malfoy’s interest, but his interest was so blatant only a
simpleton wouldn’t notice it.
He floundered for a moment, not knowing how to react to the compliment. He
didn’t want to encourage Kendrick, but he couldn’t outright reject his host’s
son. He was still magically exhausted and he had no idea on how to get back
home to his time. In his story he has implied the Dark Lord had tried to forced
himself on Draco, he would play with that. He would make his discomfort
obvious, but not as an offense to Heir Malfoy.
He blushed prettily and his smile grew strained, “You flatter me, my lord”, his
silver eyes darted to where the chaperons where, making sure the gesture was
obvious.
“Maiden Draconis”, greeted him politely Ragnvaldr.
Only a few seconds ago, the Duke’s brother had been across the room. It meant
that Ragnvaldr had hurried to their side to control Kendrick. Draco gave a sigh
of relief inwardly. At least there were some benefits to being disliked by a
person in such a position of power. The younger dragonrider didn’t cower in
front of his uncle, but he had definitely schooled his face in a more serious
expression.
“Lord Malfoy”, Draco greeted the man with a graceful courtesy.
Ragnvaldr gave him a polite smile with his dark red lips. There was something
distinctly predatory in his smile, it might be that his teeth were too sharp
for a normal human. To most people the smile would have seemed kind and warm.
Draco had been raised as a Malfoy in troubled political times, he knew there
was no kindness or warmth for him in Lord Malfoy’s face. Ragnvaldr had the same
dangerous and exotic beauty as his nephew and brother. His hair was a blood red
instead of the dark green of his nephew or the lighter green of his brother,
yet they all shared the serpentine golden eyes and the hints of scales over
their neck.
“It is a pleasure to welcome you to court. It was our intention to introduce
you to the members of our esteemed court as you have no relatives here. It
seems like my nephew has anticipated such need”, Duke Malfoy’s most trusted
advisor said.
Draco resisted the urge to purse his lips at the remainder of his lack of
relatives. Lord Ragnvaldr had done it on purpose, to underline the weakness of
the blonde’s position in this foreign court. While the words’ seemed kind and
inviting, there was clearly a threat underneath. If this was how the elders of
House Malfoy would treat him as a maiden, he shuddered to think of what
treatment he would have received as a warrior.
He supposed that Lord Ragnvaldr might not think that Draco could so easily
identify his intentions, as he doubted diplomacy in the Old times was so
developed as in his own time. If the petite blond had been the naïve little
maiden he portrayed, he wouldn’t have spotted the threat and would have
perceived the redheaded advisor as friendly and helpful. Thankfully, Draco
wasn’t that naïve little maiden.
At least Lord Ragnvaldr had provided a reasonable explanation for Kendrick’s
forwardness to the court around him that watched the interaction attentively.
It wouldn’t seem as scandalous anymore. Even if Kendrick’s interest was
evident, his boldness had an explanation that showed him as the kind knight
trying to aid the new little maiden lost in court. It was unconventional;
usually his parents or guardians would be the ones to slowly introduce him to
court members. But as Lord Ragnvaldr had pointed out, his situation was
unconventional.
“You are too kind, my lord”, Draco answered with the same pretty little smile
he had seen on his mother’s aristocratic face.
“It is my pleasure, maiden Draco, please allow me to introduce you to Lord
Willis of House Kent and his lovely consort, Marleigh”, said Lord Ragnvaldr
with a theatrical sweep of his hand.
Lord Willis was an important lord, Draco was sure. He wasn’t particularly
handsome with his aged face and unfortunate nose, yet his clothes were well
made and of rich clothe and he moved with the convincement of a lord of a great
House. His consort Marleigh was an aged beauty of dark curls and captivating
black eyes. Draco was quick to give them his second most charming smile, not
wishing to seem to eager, and an elegant courtesy.
Lord Ragnvaldr had introduced him to three more pairs, all important vassals of
House Malfoy, and he was already exhausted. He wished he could go back to his
room to rest, since he was unused to the exercise after so much time of bed
rest. However, he knew that now was the moment to meet members of the court and
gain favour. Leaving too quickly right now would be a snub; he would have to
remain at least for half-an-hour longer before he could truly retire.
“Maiden Draco”, greeted him a female tall warrior of golden hair and blue eyes,
accompanied by a male maiden of black hair and swollen belly, “I am Lady
Rohesia of House Orilon and this is my consort Aylard”
He gave a curtsy, not too deep but not too swallow indicating that his House
was of equal status to House Orilon. Although, he gave her the proper respect
since he was an unmarried maiden, while she was a married warrior and
matriarch. And he steeled for at least a couple of pairs more to greet him
before he could retire to his rooms.
%MCEPASTEBIN%
***** Chapter 7 *****
After the most unfortunate second visit to court, Draco had made tried to think
of strategies to manage his situation. His host’s heir had displayed
undisputable interest in him in front of the entire court. Lord Ragnvaldr’s
excuse had made the entire matter less scandalous than it would be otherwise,
yet it was still clear that he was the object of Heir Kendrick’s affections.
According to his valet, the court was already bubbling with rumours of how in
love Kendrick was with him. It made him want to scream in frustration. Why did
the people of this time have to be so open about their feelings?
Draco had no interest in the Malfoy Heir, he wanted to learn all he could and
return to his rightful time. However, he couldn’t offend his host. His life, as
weakened as he was right now, relied on the good will of House Malfoy. The
entire situation made Draco’s heart tighten with anxiety and he felt out of
breath. It was a similar sensation to what he had experienced in the presence
of the Dark Lord, although not as direly. The Dark Lord had exuded the most
evil magic and his appearance had been monstrous.
The worst of all was today: in honour of Heir Kendrick’s name day, there would
be a jubilant celebration. Draco had been informed that he had been given the
most highly regarded position of all; he was seated by Heir Kendrick’s side at
the feast. He wasn’t even sure on how to behave. He couldn’t rely on Kendrick’s
sense of property. The dragonrider had already shown his disregard for it. It
was, therefore, impossible for him to play the oblivious maiden. He couldn’t
offend Kendrick; he couldn’t refuse him while at the same he should make it
obvious his interest wasn’t welcome.
He breathed in slowly, trying to calm the nerves that fluttered around his
stomach. The only thought that came to mind to prevent his position being
jeopardized was to say that Draco was under his Patriarch’s command and could
not court or marry without his approval. Nevertheless, he doubted that would
work on Kendrick for long, the older wizard was overeager. Besides, Draco
wasn’t sure he wanted to remind the green-haired warrior that he was stranded
in Fortress Malfoy with no way to contact his family. The warrior would use
that to pressure him.
The petite blond was startled out of his thoughts by the knocking on the wooden
door that led to his bedroom from the bathroom. His rooms consisted of a
bedroom, a small lavatory, a bathroom (an extravagance for the era, even for
wizards) and a small solar for his use. He wanted to meet some maidens of good
status to invite them to his solar, probably to do embroidery since that seemed
an accepted pastime in any era. He had been practicing for many days to at
least seem acceptable in sewing. He grimaced; he had gained many little wounds
by the needle in his attempts.
“You may come in”, he stated clearly.
His young manservant quickly came in, “Good morning, Lord Draco”
The Slytherin gifted him with a kind smile, “Good morning, Athils”
“I have drawn you a bath, my lord”, informed him the brunette teenager.
Draco nodded regally and followed Athils to the bathroom. The entire bathing
experience was bewildering in this time period. The pureblood was used to the
marble bathrooms of Malfoy Manor, inspired by Roman baths. He had found the
Clawfoot tub made out of copper and painted gold quite odd the first time he
had seen it. He was thankful that the faucets had runes on them to pour both
cold and hot water. Athils had explained that usually bathtubs had to be filled
with cauldrons of hot water since the runes were so difficult to cast. It was
plain that in the Old Times people had more unrestrained power, but none of the
finesse of his time.
Athils helped him undress and then put his clothing carefully on a wooden
cabinet. The experience of being completely naked in front of another human
being was still perplexing and awkward. His house-elves had helped dress him
occasionally, doing the buttons on his back or summoning robes. Yet, it wasn’t
the same in front of a human. He stepped into the bathtub, which was quite high
and slippery. When he sat down, the water reached his nipples. He hoped that
his manservant would attribute his blush to the heat of the bath. Although, it
would be useful for Athils to report to the Malfoys how coy and demure he was.
“Please raise your arm, my lord”, instructed his brunette valet as he helped
bathe him using a soap wrapped in a cloth.
Draco obeyed mutely. He looked up to the low stone ceiling, the one in his
bedroom was much higher he observed. His hair was getting quite long now, but
he supposed that a maiden would wear his hair longer. He wished he could tell
Athils that he could wash on his own but that would be quite uncharacteristic
for the time. In Draco’s time, wizards were warier of human servants; that’s
why they used house-elves. In this time, there were also house-elves but these
house-elves were always invisible and mostly cleaned at night like at Hogwarts.
“Your hair is so beautiful, my lord, it feels like silk”, praised his
manservant as he started to wash his blond hair.
The Slytherin laughed softly, “I have a friend whose hair seems to be pure
silk. It’s the softest thing one could ever touch”
“What was his name?” inquired Athils.
“Her name is Pansy. She is a beautiful witch black of hair”, said Draco,
feeling nostalgia overwhelm him, he didn’t know when he would see his friend
again.
“Did you know each other for long?” asked the manservant, fishing for more
information on the Slytherin’s past.
“Her manor was close to our own and our parents are allies. We have played
together since we were infants”, he wisely didn’t mention that their parents
had contemplated a betrothal between the two, these were innocuous details that
made his story more credible to the Malfoys, “She adores her hair and spends so
much time brushing it! We always had to urge her to be faster, lest we were
late for breakfast”
“She must have had really long hair, then”, commented Athils nonchalant.
Draco hid a smile at the obvious attempt, “Her hair was the envy of all the
maidens. Daphne, one of our friends, even accidently charmed it violet for a
day when we were children!”
“Did she have many suitors?” inquired the twelve-year-old manservant, curious.
“She was betrothed to Theodore a year ago”, answered Draco, “Theodore is a good
wizard; they will have an agreeable marriage”
“It was an arranged marriage?” asked the brunette surprised.
This was a golden opportunity. Athils would surely transmit his answer to the
Malfoys. Hopefully, Duke Malfoy or Lord Ragnvaldr would use this to prevent
Kendrick courting him.
The petite blond laughed melodiously, “Marriages are always arranged in our
circles! The Patriarchs and Matriarchs decide the marriages. I am lucky that my
Father is my Patriarch, otherwise I could end up in a quite unhappy marriage”
“They are all arranged? What about love?” inquired Athils looking astonished,
Draco supposed that for a servant the entire thing seemed mad.
“Our duty is to honour our Houses, we are married in the manner that is most
advantageous for our House. Pansy and Theodore will marry because their Houses
are entering an economic agreement that shall benefit both, they will also be
allies in political issues”, explained the petite blond.
“But won’t they feel sad to marry someone they don’t love?” asked puzzled the
manservant.
“They are actually really fortunate. They are the same age and they have been
friends since childhood. There are worse pairings. For instance, seventeen-
year-old Beatrice was married to fifty-seven year-old Seamus”, he shuddered in
remembrance of the wedding. Although wizards aged slower, Beatrice had still
been too young to marry Seamus. If Seamus had waited four or five years more,
the pairing wouldn’t have been so inappropriate.
“And why did she agree?” Athils was clearly dismayed at the thought.
“Duty. One must always honour their House, Athils. A good Patriarch or
Matriarch will take care of its members. But it is the duty of the family to
obey their Patriarch or Matriarch above all things”, stated Draco simply.
“Were… were you betrothed, my lord?” inquired hesitantly the valet.
The pureblood wished he could say yes and stop Kendrick’s advances for once and
for all. However, lying in the Old Tongue was a particularly dangerous
prospect. His survival also relied on his desirability. Would Kendrick feel so
resentful that he would cast him out of Fortress Malfoy? He hoped not, yet he
couldn’t be sure. The dragonrider was a bit temperamental from what he read
between the lines of Athils’ stories.
“I was supposed to be betrothed soon, yet with the Dark Lord… my Father was
unable to arrange a match for me in those circumstances, he was too busy trying
to placate the Dark Lord”, sighed the Slytherin.
There was a moment of silence before Athils asked, “…Why would he need to
placate the Dark Lord?”
“Our family was an ally so we offered the Dark Lord sanctuary in our manor
under our wards. Unknown to us, the Dark Lord had played with too dangerous
magicks and became a monster. By the time we realised, it was too late. Our
home was full of his followers and the Dark Lord was powerful and quick to
anger. He managed to take control of the Manor. It was a young Manor, you see,
my family moved there only a couple of centuries before”, explained Draco
staring at the wall vacantly, thinking of those horrifying days.
The petite blond felt regret and anger and disappointment become a ball of lead
in his stomach. He had felt so hopeful at the thought of the Dark Lord. He had
grown up believing the Dark Lord would free their society from muggleborns and
other threats, they would go back to the Old ways and follow the Old customs.
Samhain and such would no longer be banned from being practiced in public,
while Christmas light glittered in the streets of Diagon Alley. Why did they
have to accept a muggleborn religion that condemned witchcraft?
“We thought he was going to be our hero in war, that he would become the symbol
of our people. He failed, he became too lost and mad”, stated simply Draco as
he sat in the growingly cold bath.
Athils swallowed thickly, “The water is becoming old, my lord, let’s get you
dry”
Draco blinked and returned to the present. He hadn’t meant to speak so much of
it. He supposed he hadn’t said too much. It would only lend credence to his
story, even if having spoken so much annoyed him. Even though he knew Athils
was a spy for the Malfoys, he was the only person Draco saw on a normal basis.
So he supposed he couldn’t help but let some things out of his chest,
especially since in his own time he couldn’t criticise the Dark Lord even in
his head. He had to focus though; in only a few hours the feast for Heir
Kendrick’s nameday would begin.
%MCEPASTEBIN%
***** Chapter 8 *****
The scenery around Malfoy Fortress was as spectacular as it had been in his
time. As many fortresses, the building was located on the top of a mountain to
have a good view of their enemies’ approach. From the front, the mountain’s
slope was gentle and almost flat, it gave way to a forest of tall pine trees
not too far away from the fortress. However, the back of the Fortress gave to a
cliff to a large and rich lake. Around the lake there were several mountains
full of caves, where the Malfoy’s dragons apparently lived.
For the first time, Draco was in the enormous courtyard that gave to the cliff
and the lake. The courtyard was usually banned to people who weren’t from House
Malfoy as their dragons landed there. Today, the pureblood time-traveller was
accompanied by most of the Malfoy courtiers who watched the sky with eager
eyes. The young blond watched the sky with equally expectant silver eyes.
Supposedly, Heir Kendrick had gone to hunt with his dragon for the evening
feast. The Malfoy warrior was to land in the courtyard soon. The petite
Slytherin had the uncomfortable impression that the display was aimed to
impress him in particular. Still, it would be definitely something to see.
Finally, from one of the mountains a large black figure emerged. With abated
breath, Draco stared as the creature extended its long wings descending regally
to the lake below before lifting its flight towards the sky once more. The
dragon was black, it had two horns on his head and his tail was spiked. It
reminded the Slytherin vaguely of the Horntail Potter had fought in the
Triwizard Tournament. It was such a magnificent creature. The dragon flew
beautifully, Draco had rarely been witness to such august flying. This was a
powerful and strong creature that belonged in the sky. The ultimate predator.
The dragon moved gracefully in the sky, increasing its speed and cutting
through the air like an arrow. Then it slowed down again and flew behind one of
the mountains. It reappeared soon, rising higher in the sky as though it was
about to touch the sun. Its black scales glittered impressively under the
sunlight. It was truly beautiful, a magical being in all its meanings. A dragon
was the embodiment of magic and grace and predator. And once upon a time,
Draco’s family, Draco’s house had bonded with such creatures. If he returned
home with such ability, the Dark Lord would learn to fear the Malfoy name.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” inquired Ragnvaldr suddenly standing by his side,
“House Malfoy is not to be underestimated”
The tall Malfoy was dressed in a black leather jerkin with golden buttons and
his doublet was the Malfoy rich green with simple black embroidery. The Malfoys
didn’t have a maiden in their family, thus the tailors would make all
embroidery and warriors probably didn’t care much for it without the emotional
significance. After all, detailed embroidery made by a maiden was symbol of
love. The dragon rider wore a chain of office made out of gold and large
emeralds with a fierce dragon hanging from it, a clear sign he was of House
Malfoy. His trousers were of thick fabric and black, he had probably been
riding his dragon this morning as well, mused Draco.
The threat was too obvious, yet the petite blond gave Lord Malfoy an awed
smile, “Most impressive, such a graceful and powerful creature. It’s a being of
magic and might”
The redhead’s golden eyes narrowed slightly, “Indeed”
“Heir Kendrick rides beautifully as well, my lord”, Draco added casually, it
was a reminder that Heir Kendrick favoured the blond and would not take well to
his uncle threatening him.
The message behind his words was clearly understood. Although Lord Ragnvaldr
probably thought he hadn’t done it on purpose since Draco was displaying a
particularly naïve and oblivious behaviour even in front of Athils. The ruse
wasn’t hard to maintain as he was alone most of the time. Duke Malfoy’s brother
was still displeased at the message though. Right now Lord Ragnvaldr was his
brother’s right hand, yet Kendrick was the heir and it wouldn’t be wise to
alienate him over such a small matter. His golden eyes glinted with anger and
his shoulders tensed.
“He’s a pride to House Malfoy, Maiden Draco”, determined Ragnvaldr coldly,
insinuating that the Malfoy Heir was too good for the young pureblood.
The petite blond hid a small, amused smile as he turned his fair face to the
sky. It was ironic to have the redhead Malfoy try to dissuade him from forming
a relationship with Heir Kendrick, when Draco had no interest in Heir Kendrick.
He thought he had already made it clear that he wasn’t interested in a
relationship without his House’s approval. Apparently, Ragnvaldr believed he
was trying to play coy and make his nephew chase after him.
Finally, the black dragon glided down elegantly to the yard, dropping first two
large dead hippogriffs. There were gasps and excited muttering as the enormous
creature landed on the courtyard. The dragon was much closer now and Draco
could feel Lord Ragnvaldr’s serpentine eyes on him, expecting his fear. The
petite blond could feel the magic rolling off the dragon; it was more powerful
and untamed than that of the dragons of the Triwizard Tournament. Heir Kendrick
who looked small in comparison to the enormous dragon, slipped off an elaborate
leather seat and walked down the dragon’s front leg.
“Maiden Draco”, greeted him immediately the handsome Malfoy Heir.
Surprisingly, the petite blond felt his cheeks heat at the attention. He
supposed it was normal to feel attracted to power and right now Heir Kendrick
was the very image of it. He controlled his dragon effortlessly. He was tall
and broad, his dark green hair was wind-swept and there was a light of
excitement in his golden eyes from flying. He was dressed in tight clothes
suited for riding as well.
Draco offered him a refined curtsy, “Congratulations on you nameday, Heir
Kendrick”
“You look even more beautiful today, Maiden Draco, which I thought to be
impossible”, flattered the Malfoy Heir with a roguish smile.
The young time-traveller had wished to fit in with the courtiers more; clothing
and styling could indicate a lot of things in court. Changing his style of
dressing would illustrate his willingness to be part of the Malfoy court. Thus,
he had ordered his manservant to braid his hair with long threads of silver
silk and pearls, as he had seen quite a few maidens with such a style. Then,
Athils had created a crown braid with some of the braids while the rest of his
blond hair was down. He was wearing a beautiful robe of soft lilac richly
embroidered with grey leaves, the torso was tighter yet the skirts flared out a
bit. He was also wearing his white gold medallion with his House’s crest.
“You flatter me, my lord”, he answered politely, but his own tone was warmer
than he had expected.
He supposed he was lonely here and he was glad that someone was so kind to him,
even if it would create problems for him in the future. Nonetheless, he would
need to show that he wasn’t welcoming Heir Kendrick’s attentions. He glanced to
the side to see Lord Ragnvaldr staring down at his nephew with censure in his
golden eyes. However, the young dragon rider didn’t seem to accept his uncle’s
disapproval, as he looked defiant. In fact, he realised with a start Kendrick
hadn’t even greeted his uncle with a nod.
This wasn’t good. While he was happy that at least someone defended him to
suspicious Lord Ragnvaldr, that sort of behaviour would only foster more
distrust. The elder dragon rider was still Duke Malfoy’s right hand and it
wasn’t wise to make him an enemy if he could still be swayed to his side. The
least he wanted to do was be seen by Lord Ragnvaldr as the maiden who tore his
House apart.
“The truth can’t be flattery, my dear maiden”, replied gallantly Heir Kendrick,
“Please, allow me to escort you inside”
“Lord Ragnvaldr, thank you for your company, I am still lost in court and you
are always kind to me”, he said with all the maidenly courtesy and sincerity he
could muster as he grasped Heir Kendrick’s offered arm. It was better to
diffuse the tension by leaving instead of letting the two warriors anger grow.
The lord gave him a forced smile, “It is my pleasure, Maiden Draco, what sort
of host would House Malfoy be if we didn’t look after our guests?”
He gave Lord Ragnvaldr a sweet smile and let Heir Kendrick lead him away. The
Malfoy courtiers were all studying the scene, he hoped he didn’t look like a
manipulative maiden that enthralled the Malfoy Heir and diminished his uncle
out of petty dislike. He had tried to look oblivious to the tension between the
two Malfoys, as there hadn’t been any open confrontation. He hoped he had acted
well enough to be believed.
“We shall have some lunch and tonight will be my nameday feast! You shall be
seated next to me, my sweet maiden”, started saying Heir Kendrick in a voice
loud enough to be heard by the rest of the court.
The petite blond resisted the urge to sigh, Heir Kendrick had already told him
so, he only said it again to trap him into agreeing, “You honour me, my lord,
I’m afraid it’s too high an honour for a foreigner. Wouldn’t a lord of your
court be more suitable to receive such honour?”
“Nonsense! You are more than worthy of this honour, it will make my nameday
more enjoyable to have you by my side”, responded Heir Kendrick confidently,
knowing Draco would have no other choice but to accept.
“Thank you, Heir Kendrick”, the young Slytherin answered as he lifted his
skirts slightly to climb the steep stairs.
“What did you think of Hillevi? Isn’t she a beauty?” inquired the dragon rider
with a smirk.
“She is most impressive, my lord, her flying is so graceful!” responded as
expected Draco; almost despite himself he could feel excited at the memory of
the powerful dragon.
“She flies beautifully. There is nothing like being in the air”, stated
Kendrick with a genuine smile, for once no flirtation in his tone.
“Yes, flying is like nothing else in the world”, sighed the younger pureblood
as he thought of the broom he couldn’t use in the Old Times.
“You fly?” questioned surprised the strong warrior.
The blond bit his lower lip; he supposed it wasn’t a very maidenly pastime.
Then again, Kendrick had this image of him as the perfect maiden and it was
that image that he was attracted to. Mayhaps showing that he wasn’t that
perfect little maiden would make the dragon rider’s infatuation pass. It was
feasible to shatter that image while at the same time, not be too shocking to
lose his standing in court.
“My father bred Abraxans and he taught me how to fly”, replied the time-
traveller as though it was something natural and expected.
“Abraxans?” asked confused the green haired wizard.
“They are horses with wings, they fly incredibly, better than a hippogriff”,
the petite wizard responded thinking bitterly of his second year.
“My, you surprise me, my sweet maiden, you are quite the sports man!” teased
Heir Kendrick amused.
It seemed the dragonrider hadn’t taken the thought of a maiden riding Abraxans
as badly as he would have expected. He had to remember that these were the Old
Times, yet some aspects of society he had been taught were from a later period
in time. It did seem to make Draco more of a real person in Kendrick’s eyes,
yet the warrior didn’t disdain his shattered image of the perfect little
maiden. To his disbelief, the petite blond realised that he was starting to
enjoy the conversation. He had been too isolated, it was sad that even these
crumbs of affection made him feel lighter and find someone as obnoxious as
Kendrick tolerable.
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
It was the first time he had had dinner in the Great Hall, even when he had
visited with his Father, he had never eaten there. The hall was similar in size
and structure to that of Hogwarts, with a high table and the lower tables.
Today, Draco had the great honour of sitting in the high table quite near Duke
Malfoy. Sadly, he had only been granted that honour by sitting next to Heir
Malfoy. Duke Malfoy was seated at the centre of the table, to his right was
Lord Ragnvaldr and to his left was Kendrick, with the time-traveller sitting
next to the Heir.
“You must try this delicacy, my sweet maiden”, insisted Heir Kendrick gesturing
to one of the servants to bring a dish closer.
Draco felt his cheeks heat up; a warrior would only feed a maiden if they were
married. The Malfoy Heir wasn’t going as far as feeding him from his own plate
or hand, yet the significance of the gesture was more than evident. To refuse
the dish would be a humiliating rejection for the dragon rider, which the
petite blond couldn’t afford. Yet, to accept would be seen as encouragement of
the informal courtship.
Heir Kendrick took the silver tray from the servant and served a generous
portion to the Slytherin’s plate. The young wizard blinked, he hadn’t even had
time to think of a polite refusal that would make his disinterest apparent.
Although he supposed a sign of disinterest sitting next to Heir Kendrick on his
nameday would be seen as playing coy for the dragon rider. He looked at the
dish; to Draco it looked odd to say the least. There was a dead swan on top of
a pie. He supposed that re-creating the swan required talent and skill and that
was what made it prized.
“Thank you, my lord”, replied with a small grateful smile the petite blond.
He bit into the tender meat of the swan, feeling the eyes of the dragon lord
and half of the court on him. He resisted the urge to blush; his persona would
be oblivious to the stares of the people around him. He hoped his table
manners, which were more refined than in this time, would look elegant instead
of silly. He just couldn’t abide the thought of eating with his hands. The mere
idea made him remember his mother shaking her head disappointed when he was a
child.
The taste of the swan pie was not so different from other meat pies he had
tried before, yet he could not give that honest statement. Although usually
many dishes were repeated at court, there was only a single dish of swan pie,
which meant it was likely a prized dish. It would be discourteous not to praise
the dish. He savoured the bite, trying to find something to praise that the Old
Tongue would allow with impunity. The meat itself was tender and the taste held
the stronger notes usually found in game meat.
“It is truly a delicacy, my lord, I have never seen anything like it”, said the
time-traveller graciously.
Heir Kendrick smiled wildly, as though he had been given a great compliment,
and leant back on his chair, “I am glad it is to your taste, my lovely maiden”
Draco could see that Duke Malfoy was paying close attention to their
interaction as well as Lord Ragnvaldr. The ruler kept talking to his brother as
though nothing had happened; yet he could see the advisor’s jaw clench. He
wondered whether there was more significance to the swan pie than he had given
it. He hoped not.
Suddenly, there were awing sounds and the young Slytherin found that one of the
hippogriffs was being brought apparently it had been just roasted. The sight
was quite impressive: six men were carrying the enormous silver tray on which
lay the hippogriff. He supposed the servants would present his prey to Heir
Kendrick and then take it away to cut it into more manageable dishes to carry.
“Finally, the main course!” exclaimed excited the green-haired pureblood, pride
obvious in his posture at the sight of the enormous hippogriff.
The servants advanced slowly, careful to maintain the hippogriff on the silver
tray. As they approached, Draco realised that the silver tray had runes
engraved to make the dish lighter for the servants. Seeing as the hippogriff
was the weight of at least three men, it made sense for a dish to be enchanted
to make the burden lighter. The footmen paused in front of the high table,
displaying the impressive catch. He wondered whether the top of the hippogriff
tasted like bird and the lower body as a horse. He would soon find out, he
supposed.
Heir Kendrick stood up from his seat imperiously, “It took fourteen of my
arrows to fell this mighty beast. It is my pleasure to share it with my House
and its vassals. I humbly offer to maiden Draco the heart of this beast”
The entire hall was speechless at the dragon lord’s words. This was important.
Even though the custom had fallen out of favour in Draco’s time, he knew that
the heart of a great beast was of great gravity. It was said that eating their
heart would grant strength to the warrior that had felled it. He could only
imagine what offering the heart to a maiden could mean in the Old Times. It was
clearly a public sign of regard, but was it anymore than that? Would Draco be
agreeing to marriage if he accepted? No, that didn’t make sense. It was
probably an offer of courtship and the petite blond would be granting Heir
Kendrick the honour of courting him if he accepted. He wasn’t sure he could
deny him.
He felt anxiety crawl up from his stomach to his chest. His throat felt tight.
He didn’t know what to do. Rejection would be humiliating to House Malfoy and
he couldn’t afford to displease House Malfoy. At the same time, he couldn’t
encourage the courtship. He didn’t want to marry Heir Kendrick; he wanted to go
back home. Besides, he needed his Patriarch’s permission to court. He had never
expected to be placed in such a position. Any possible courter knew that they
had to obtain his father’s permission first. This was… He was unprepared for
this.
The entire court was waiting for his response. He could feel Duke Malfoy’s cold
golden eyes on him. Heir Kendrick was looking at him as well, but his entire
demeanour screamed confidence. He had to respond. Draco had been quiet for too
long. If he waited any longer it would be a slight.
“I- thank you, Heir Kendrick, for this great honour”, he managed to say.
The time-traveller wished to continue, to explain that he couldn’t court
without his Patriarch’s approval. However, the courtiers started cheering at
his answer, not letting him continue. The dragon lord smiled grandly and
signalled to the servants to take the hippogriff away before sitting down
again.
“You do me a great honour, my sweet maiden”, told him the older pureblood as he
laid his rough hand on top of Draco’s pale hand.
The young Slytherin had not been touched so familiarly since he had arrived to
this time. He gasped at the liberty of the dragon lord. He felt at a loss. He
truly didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t offend his host. His magic was still
too weak to even cast spells. And yet… he couldn’t allow this to happen. He had
to let his courter down gently and politely without causing offense.
“I-, my lord, it is… unexpected”, started the beautiful time-traveller,
hesitating as to how approach the subject.
The golden-eyed Malfoy Heir only smiled more openly, “How can it be so, when I
have made my regard for you so clear?”
Was Heir Kendrick deliberately ignoring his obvious misgivings to the
situation? Did he even care that Draco was so plainly uncomfortable? The petite
blond swallowed thickly, trying to find a way to voice his reservations without
offending his hosts. Despite the revelry on the lower tables being loud and
Duke Malfoy and Lord Ragnvaldr conversing, he knew a lot of people were paying
close attention to their conversation. Would it be better to leave this
discussion for a less public venue? But no, it couldn’t be seen as though he
was leading the dragon lord on.
“I just- surely you must know that I need my Patriarch’s approval of any match,
my lord”, spoke the young beauty decorously.
“Ah, but your Patriarch is out of contact. And surely your Father would not
disapprove of a match with such a powerful and great House, would he?”
responded with calculated carelessness Heir Kendrick.
And what could Draco say to that? He had again been reminded of his precarious
situation, his life depended on House Malfoy’s good will. Furthermore, no one
could deny that House Malfoy was a strong and powerful house, especially with
their dragons. To insinuate otherwise would be a grave affront. In this
situation, the part-veela couldn’t even mention the Malfoy’s fertility
problems.
“I- I suppose it is still in the courting process”, replied Draco, trying to
make it clear that for a marriage Heir Kendrick would need his Father’s
permission.
The dragon lord didn’t seem bothered by the time-traveller’s reply, brightening
at the sight of the footmen returning with a silver dish holding the
hippogriff’s heart that had placed Draco in this uncertain plight. The servant
gave the dish to Heir Kendrick, who in turn placed it in front of the comely
Slytherin.
The young pureblood felt nauseous at the sight of the enormous heart. He had
never been too fond of organs for eating, yet it was what the heart represented
what made his stomach turn. His stomach felt heavy as though the food he had
already consumed had turned into lead. He glanced up demurely. Everyone was
watching him. He had to eat it. His heart was pounding against his chest.
He picked up his utensils and painstakingly slowly he started to cut into the
big heart. It wasn’t tender at all and seemed springy. He brought a bite of the
meat into his pink lips and then into his mouth. He felt queasy as he tried to
eat the mouthful of hippogriff heart. Eating it felt like a terrible mistake.
But what other option did he have? It was hard to swallow the small mouthful.
He didn’t know however he could manage the entire heart.
Heir Kendrick seemed greatly pleased with his eating the heart, his golden eyes
watching attentively as Draco forced himself to swallow bite after bite. It
wasn’t until the petite blond had eaten half of the heart that the dragon lord
picked up his own knife and started to eat the heart as well. The young
Slytherin was sure that their sharing the heart had also some special
significance but he could hardly concentrate on deciphering it, when he felt so
lost.
It didn’t take long for his powerful courter to finish the hippogriff heart.
Soon after that, the music became louder and the dragon lord insisted that the
petite blond accompany him for a dance. The time-traveller had tried to
discourage the idea, since he knew none of the dances of this time, yet his
protests weren’t much convincing to the determined Malfoy Heir. The rest of the
feast seemed to be like a dream. He knew that he had danced with Heir Kendrick,
much more closely than he would have wished for, although most dances were
group dances. And he knew that the dragon lord had escorted him to his rooms.
However, he couldn’t precisely say what they had spoken about or what sort of
music he had danced to.
 
Chapter End Notes
     An idea for Draco's outfit: www.dolldivine.com/Modified-Dolls/
     Serena90-3027846
***** Chapter 10 *****
“Good morning, my lord”, greeted him Athils as he parted the thick curtains of
the small row of windows to his right.
Draco slowly opened his silver eyes and blinked at the onslaught of light. He
groaned and tuned around to hide from the light, dragging his burgundy covers
with him. His lids felt heavy and his mind wasn’t quite awake. The bed was very
comfortable and he didn’t wish to wake up yet. He still hadn’t recovered from
his magic exhaustion and wouldn’t for a couple of months more, therefore he
slept more than he did in prime conditions.
“Please, you must wake and bathe, you are waited at court”, urged him gently
his young manservant, his voice kind.
The petite blond frowned; as a maiden he wasn’t expected as much at court,
especially with his illness. Hadn’t he been at court only yesterday? It was
then, that the events from yesterday dawned on him like an icy cloudburst. He
remained still on the bed as he remembered. Heir Kendrick had publically began
their courtship by offering him a hippogriff’s heart and the time-traveller had
had no choice but to accept. Draco’s reticence and his appeals to Kendrick to
be patient, as he didn’t have his Patriarch’s permission, had been ignored.
“At court? Again?” he inquired, hoping that he would have more time to prepare
a strategy to finish the courtship without offending his host.
His brown-haired valet nodded as he took out the towels he would use to dry
Draco after his bath, “Of course, my lord, your courtship with Heir Malfoy has
just been announced”
The Slytherin sat up in his four-poster bed, “But I have no chaperone”, he
stated with worry in his melodious voice.
“You shall be in public at court and I am sure Lord Ragnvaldr will arrange for
a chaperone”, replied amused the twelve-year-old wizard.
It seemed he had no other option but to raise from bed, bathe and attend court.
He sighed internally. He didn’t know how he could act to mitigate the effects
of this particular disaster. Heir Kendrick had taken him completely off-guard.
He had been naïve, had expected the warrior to respect that Draco couldn’t
court without his Patriarch’s approval. He had thought he had made his
reticence clear enough for the dragon rider to respect his wishes or at least
be more prudent in his courting. Unfortunately, it seemed his reluctance had
only served to fan the flames of Heir Malfoy’s passion.
He let his young manservant help him bathe and brush his hair. Meanwhile he
tried to think of how to act in court today. He just couldn’t come up with
anything that would solve this fiasco. He racked his brain trying to come up
with alternatives. However, he always faced the difficulty of the difference in
cultures. Although he had had a traditional upbringing, respecting the Old
Ways, it was clear that didn’t mean he had been raised with the same culture as
Heir Kendrick and his peers.
“My lord, you seem distracted, is something the matter?” asked Athils, his
brown eyes concerned.
“I am well… I am just uneasy, it feels wrong to be in a courtship without my
Father’s approval”, the Hogwarts’ student confessed, knowing that his
manservant reported on his thoughts to the Malfoys.
“I am sure your father approves, my lord”, assured him Athils, “The Malfoys are
a very powerful House, you shall bring glory to your House with this suitable
match. And this is a opportunity, your match won’t be arranged, you could marry
for love”
Of course, his young valet would only speak praises of the Malfoys,
conveniently forgetting the fertility issues that would put Draco’s life at
risk. And a match for love? The time-traveller wasn’t even sure he liked Heir
Kendrick! He had felt attracted to him; the Malfoy Heir was young, handsome and
powerful. Nonetheless, that certainly didn’t mean he wished to marry him! The
dragon rider was arrogant and uncaring of other’s feelings, especially Draco’s.
But he couldn’t voice those thoughts.
He forced a smile, “Yes, of course. Nevertheless, I can’t help but still wish
for my Patriarch’s approval…”
“That is normal, yet you have no way to communicate with your family, do you?”
questioned the manservant, surprisingly forward, “It is no use to stop your
life until you can contact them, my lord”
“Indeed”, he responded quietly.
The petite beauty swallowed thickly. This had been his mistake. He had been too
honest. It was obvious that he was stranded in the Malfoy’s land with no way to
contact his House or return. While it was clear his House was powerful and
wealthy, his Father was compromised by the Dark Lord’s presence and wouldn’t
seek Draco. In the Malfoys’ mind, by the time his Patriarch had freed himself
of the Dark Lord and sought the young blond, the Slytherin would be married
already. His lord father would be angry, naturally, as it had been done without
his blessing. However, it would be too late for his father to do anything but
accept the match with the powerful House.
He had been so naïve. He had thought in the Old Times the warriors would be
ruled by the honour code that had been characteristic according to his lessons.
He should have known that historians always romanticised the reality. The
Malfoys were ruthless dragon riders, why had he believed that they would feel
compelled to protect the maiden in distress? He had thought himself so smart
and manipulative! And it turned out he had been gullible like an innocent lamb.
“How would you like to style your hair today, my lord?” inquired his brown-
haired valet.
A part of Draco wanted to go back to styling his hair and dressing like in his
time as a subtle gesture of how he didn’t wish to join the Malfoy court. Having
said that, it was too late for gestures of this manner, especially as he had
already accepted the courtship, it would only reflect badly on him.
“Parted in the middle with small braids going to tight coil at the back of the
head. Use the strands of silver silk from yesterday”, he finally instructed.
Athils’ fingers were agile as they braided and the petite blond idly wondered
whom he had served before Draco. Was some maiden vexed because their manservant
had been stolen to spy on the foreigner maiden?
“What will you wear today, my lord?” asked the twelve-year old manservant.
“The periwinkle robe with full skirts, the embroidery is in silver and it
depicts lilies”, he replied after a moment.
It didn’t take long until the petite blond was clothed and escorted to the
throne room, where the court was currently congregated. He entered the room
with a certain level of resignation; he had no plan on how to handle his
amorous courter. The only thing he could do was stall until he had recovered
his magic and knew of a way to return to his time. He wondered how long
courtships usually were in these times, hopefully long. The only way he could
see to prolong the courtship, given their disregard for his father’s approval,
was to emphasize his magic exhaustion. After all if Malfoy consorts struggled
to conceive hale and healthy, Draco would struggle even more so in his illness.
That ought to give him time.
“My sweet maiden, as always you brighten any room you walk into”, greeted him
immediately Heir Kendrick stepping to his side and kissing the back of his hand
most gallantly.
The pleasure that his attentions had brought to Draco yesterday didn’t come.
Even though the dragon lord was quite impressive today, his clothes more formal
and rich than the time-traveller had seen before.
“You honour me, Heir Kendrick”, he replied with a curtsey.
“How have you slept, my dear?” inquired the dragon rider offering his arm for
the Slytherin to take.
The underage wizard gave the pretty smile he had copied from his lady mother
and took the firm arm, “I have slept well, my lord, I am still prey to magic
exhaustion, I am afraid”
“I shall have to tell the healer to attend more to you, my dear”, replied
without missing a beat the green-haired pureblood.
It was then that Draco noticed, with alarm, that his courter was directing him
to another door to leave the throne room, “Are we to leave court?”
“Yes, I thought a walk through the gardens would do you well”, responded calmly
the dragon rider with a wining smile.
“That is very thoughtful, my lord, yet surely we ought to be accompanied by a
chaperone?” he contested with as much delicacy as he could.
Heir Kendrick seemed amused at his observation and was to reply when he was
interrupted.
“Fear not, maiden Draco, your reputation will be intact as I shall be
accompanying you”, spoke Lord Ragnvaldr suddenly from behind them.
The way the redheaded dragon rider had said reputation, with derision, implied
how little the man thought of his virtue. So he was to be accompanied by the
wizard who seemed to hate him. This walk was just becoming a nightmare.
Apparently Lord Ragnvaldr had confirmed that the Slytherin was a little trollop
set to seduce his nephew. Draco didn’t even know why someone would wish to
seduce the Heir of a House with such notorious and infamous fertility problems.
The time-travelled swallowed his frustration.
“Thank you, Lord Ragnvaldr, you are always so kind”, he forced out
successfully. Lying in the Old Tongue had become easier, in the purest sense
Lord Ragnvaldr had been kind to Draco always coming to his aid when he was with
Kendrick.
“Yes, uncle, thank you for chaperoning”, retorted Heir Kendrick mockingly.
Draco tensed; it was going to be a quite stressful walk it seemed. The green-
haired wizard led him through an unexplored part of the fortress for the petite
beauty that led to a courtyard inside the castle. It was green and full of live
and the stone fountain of dragons in the middle was quite impressive for the
times of unrestrained and unrefined magic.
“I wonder who shall be our chaperone for the future, Heir Kendrick?” he
inquired, knowing that if he didn’t press on the matter with Lord Ragnvaldr
present, the youngest dragonrider would conveniently forget.
“I have been surveying a few prospects for the position, maiden Draco, I shall
soon find one suitable”, inserted the red-haired counsellor.
“My thanks, my lord”, replied Draco, “I await to meet them”
“I shall also introduce you to some maidens that will keep you company”, added
Lord Ragnvaldr casually.
The young time-traveller knew too well what the Duke’s confidant had in mind:
he would surround Draco with spies that would keep him informed of the maiden’s
movements. The fair beauty was sure that his companions would be of good
families, loyal to the Malfoys if a bit dull and boring.
“I am pleased to hear so, despite my fatigue for my magic exhaustion, it can be
lonely at times. It is gladdening to hear I shall have maidenly company”, he
expressed as kindly as he could.
“It is my pleasure, after all, you are our guest and courting my nephew”, said
in response the redhead pureblood.
At the sickly sweet voice of Lord Ragnvaldr, Draco felt only dread in his
stomach. The counsellor would know all his movements, he wouldn’t be able to
think or breathe without the antagonistic redhead knowing all about it. He
wasn’t sure he could endure that for long, as weak as he felt right now.
***** Chapter 11 *****
Embroidery was even more boring once you managed to do it correctly, determined
Draco as he watched the blue fabric with tiny little winged serpents. At least
when he had been learning, it had been something new and necessary. Now, it was
just tedious. He wasn’t skilled enough to not focus on the embroidery either.
The petite blond had the sneaking suspicion that he would come to hate
embroidery passionately. Although he had been raised to adore the blue of his
House, he could already feel the stirrings of irritation every time he set his
silver eyes on the blue handkerchief.
“Is that a favour for Heir Kendrick?” inquired curiously Birgit Rangecroft, one
of the maidens Lord Ragnvaldr had instructed to keep him company.
The question made dread fall heavily on Draco’s stomach. He raised his blue
eyes to find the five maidens keeping him company waiting for his reply
impatiently. Birgit’s own face seemed innocent with her wide green eyes and
golden hair, yet the time-traveller knew the other maiden had done it on
purpose. Birgit’s House was powerful and she was one of the fairest maidens in
court, it was in her best interest to advance Heir Kendrick’s interest in
Draco.
She was the most cunning of the Lord Ragnvaldr’s little spies. Maiden Dortha
Bryant, a pretty girl of thirteen years of age, was observant and quiet yet she
wouldn’t actively try to guide the conversation. In contrast, Maiden Mikkel
Treverton, an eighteen-year-old black of hair and blue of eyes, was a vapid
wizard with little interest in things other than courtship. Maiden Helga
Schaeffer was little better; she was already betrothed and only giggled of how
handsome her fiancé was. At least Maiden Katrine Weisberg was well-read if only
in courtly romances and love songs. Furthermore, the seventeen-year-old blond
was a good singer and harpist.
The Slytherin laughed jovially, trying to make the matter seem senseless, “No,
of course not, it is rather soon for that, isn’t it? I am merely embroidering a
new handkerchief”
Birgit’s green eyes narrowed slightly before adopting a genial expression, “Oh,
but it wouldn’t be odd at all to sew a handkerchief for your betrothed!”
Draco’s hands tightened on the soft fabric and his sweet smile became tense.
Betrothed? They were still courting! He was still free of attachment and he
would remain so until he found a way to get out of this unfavourable position.
He would not marry Heir Kendrick, he would learn all he could and he would go
back to his time! His family, his real family, needed him and needed a strong
heir of House Malfoy.
“Heir Kendrick and I aren’t betrothed yet, merely courting. No betrothal can
take place without my Patriarch’s approval”, he replied primly.
“Oh, but everyone knows how courting ends”, giggled Maiden Mikkel, twirling one
of his black curls in his little finger and looking excited, “Betrothal and
marriage!”
The exclamation, of course, brought Maiden Helga to giggles as well. With
dread, Draco realised that his companions were dropping their sewing supplies
in a clear indication that the conversation would continue. Annoyance bubbled
in his chest. There was truly nothing more vexing than a group of thoughtless
and insipid maidens giggling over courtships, especially when the Slytherin
didn’t want his own courtship. Couldn’t Lord Ragnvaldr have chosen spies less
exasperating? His silver eyes darted to his personal chaperone, Anne Meyers, in
the hopes that he would put a stop to this foolishness. His hopes were dashed
when the old lady continued to sew into her fabric, giving no sign of
disapproval to the topic of conversation.
“You’re so lucky, Maiden Draco, Heir Kendrick is so handsome”, swooned Maiden
Helga, “Even my Vadik isn’t as handsome”
The time-traveller successfully bit his tongue; he wished he could retort that
Vadik’s line didn’t mean the death of the bearer of their child. Honestly, if
Lord Ragnvaldr truly wished to stop Heir Kendrick’s courtship why would he
surround Draco by people who only sung his praises? He supposed it would be
more suspicious if his companions had spoken ill of their liege’s heir to a
newly arrived wizard, yet he would have much preferred that.
“I can already imagine your wedding day! Oh and your children would be so
beautiful!” exclaimed Birgit enthusiastically.
Nicely done, speaking in plural as though any Malfoy had had more than one
child. The Slytherin swallowed his bitterness; the other maidens seemed under
the impression that Draco didn’t know of the Malfoys misfortunate legacy
issues. It made the petite blond wonder whether Athils was more loyal to him
that he would have thought or if it was just a stratagem of Lord Ragnvaldr. He
could trust nobody here, he reprimanded himself sternly. The last time he had
let his guard down he had ended up in courtship with Heir Kendrick. That
couldn’t happen again.
And that is when there was a knock on the door. Miss Anne, the chaperone,
quickly set aside her sewing to open the door that gave way to his small solar.
Draco could feel his dread grow as the chaperone went to open the door. He
hoped against all logic that his suitor wasn’t behind that door. He had already
been subjected to two more awkward feasts and four promenades through the
courtyard. The Slytherin was thankful that Heir Kendrick had a number of
military responsibilities inside House Malfoy that often called him away to
patrol the borders and check on other keeps of their kingdom.
Miss Anne opened the door and her face brightened, “Maiden Draco, it seems that
there is a present for you”
The words only made the young time-traveller feel warier. He carefully set
aside the handkerchief and thread that he had been holding to incite the other
maidens to return to their sewing instead of extoll Heir Kendrick’s dubious
virtues. The tall chaperone quickly stepped aside to reveal a mature woman of
dark skin and black eyes accompanied by a sweet looking girl in her apprentice
years with a heavy package on her arms. It was obvious what that package was.
All the maidens in his solar, despite their high education, immediately started
whispering excitedly. They all recognised the dressmaker, from what Draco could
determine from their frantic exclamations, she was the best in the Malfoys
dukedom. An expensive present, then. Usually expensive presents brought out
excitement and anticipation in Draco; it was to be expected with wealthy and
indulgent parents. This time, the excitement was sadly lacking and anticipation
had become anxiety.
“Maiden Draco, I am Mrs Rada Shepard and this is my apprentice, Miss Jacey. I
bring you a gift from your suitor, Heir Malfoy”, stated the mature witch
confidently as she stepped into the small solar.
The modiste was most assuredly the best in her field. Otherwise she wouldn’t be
so confident surrounded by maidens of high birth. The other maidens immediately
scooted their seats, allowing the witch to walk right up to Draco. This was a
professional woman of prestige and she knew it. She hadn’t even hesitated in
going to him or even attempted to greet the other maidens. The dressmaker made
a sharp gesture to Jacey, who had trailed behind her and the sweet girl offered
the petite blond his gift.
With a tense smile, Draco accepted the gift and opened the wooden box
carefully. It was a green dress. The Slytherin’s stomach dropped, this was
worse than he had thought. Fortunately, the shade of green wasn’t similar to
that of House Malfoy. House Malfoy used a jewelled forest green, whereas this
was a dark sea green. Still, it would look peculiarly similar under the feeble
lights of the candles at dinner. It seemed like Heir Kendrick was cannier than
Draco had thought, wearing the colours of House Malfoy would indicate that the
maiden was accepting of the match. At the same time, the time-traveller had to
wear the dress soon for it would be rude to not wear a suitor’s present unless
he was dismissing the match, which Draco couldn’t currently do.
“Allow me, Maiden Draco”, said Mrs Shepard with no subservience in her tone.
The modiste picked up the dress from the wooden box and raised it until the
skirts touched the floor. It was beautiful. And it was certainly a dress: with
narrowed waistline and flared skirts. It wasn’t a maidenly robe or tunic like
those Draco usually wore. This was a dress in the style of House Malfoy’s
court. He could hear the other maidens gasping appreciatively over the fine
dress. To him, this dress represented everything that had been going wrong in
his little excursion to the past.
“A magnificent gown”, he praised, nonetheless with the charm learnt from his
elegant mother.
Mrs Shepard didn’t preen as one would be expected when praised for their skill,
“It is necessary for you to try it on, Maiden Draco, to see if there is need of
any adjustments”
The part-siren glanced around the room, seeing all the other maidens positively
thrilled and making no gesture as to grant him some modesty. For society who
prized its maidens to the point of having chaperones, there were not enough
restrictions on nudity, determined sullenly Draco.
“Indeed, let us retire to my bed chamber”, he replied as he raised gracefully
from his seat.
Despite his obvious intention to leave the other maidens behind, Miss Anne and
Maiden Mikkel quickly followed into his bedchamber to help him change into the
gown. Since the modiste and his apprentice were also helping Draco, their
assistance wasn’t required but that didn’t stop them from helping strip the
petite blond from his simple and refined tunic. The Slytherin quickly saw the
modiste’s interest in the tunic and hid a smile, a true professional would
always notice talent.
“You wear no corset, Maiden Draco?” inquired Miss Anne with disapproval tinting
her voice, even though the answer was bare to her brown eyes.
“It is not fashionable where I come from”, replied simply the time-traveller.
“This gown needs a corset-” started to complain Maiden Mikkel.
“No matter, I have come prepared”, interrupted Mrs Shepard, “Jacey, bring the
other box”
To Draco’s horror, the young girl rushed outside and came back with another box
that revealed a corset. Soon he laced into the uncomfortable torture device,
which was tightened until he could barely breathe and it received Miss Anne’s
approval. Shortly after, the gown was pulled over his head. He felt like a
doll, pulled one way and another without a thought of whether he wanted to.
“It will need to be tightened at the waist”, muttered Mrs Shepard as she
pinched the extra fabric around his waist.
“You look so beautiful, Draco!” bellowed Maiden Mikkel.
He was pulled toward his mirror. Draco Malfoy, Heir of House Malfoy, could
hardly recognize himself. The corset gave him a tiny waist and childbearing
hips, especially with its generously flaring skirts. The green contrasted
sharply against his pale skin and fair hair. His hair was still styled in the
manner of Duke Malfoy’s court, in braids and silk white ribbons and pearls. He
truly looked like a maiden of this court. He looked like Heir Kendrick’s bride.
He didn’t look like himself, like Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoys. It was
vaguely terrifying. He felt his throat close up.
“Let us show the others”, declared eagerly the black haired maiden, opening the
door and signalling to the others to come in.
In moments, Draco was surrounded by the other maidens cooing over how beautiful
he looked. They kept chattering of how he should wear this gown with emeralds
and silver, wouldn’t that be appropriate his and his betrothed’s colours? He
ought to order his manservant to style his hair this and that way, as it would
please Heir Kendrick. They touched the fabric of his dress, uncaring that he
was inside the dress, and pulled at the skirts to make them fuller. The
Slytherin felt like a doll being played by overzealous children.
 
***** Chapter 12 *****
Chapter Notes
     The dreaded dress: www.dolldivine.com/Modified-Dolls/Serena90-3027848
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The time had come to wear the dreaded dress. It was a beautiful dress; that was
undeniable. The fabric was rich and colourful, the stitching admirable and the
structure sound. It was odd how a dress could make dread and anger and fear
rise to Draco’s throat. If he had seen this dress in his own time, he wouldn’t
have given it a second thought. He would have thought it old-fashioned but
beautiful. Here, in the Old Times, as a guest of House Malfoy, weak of magical
exhaustion, this dress meant his downfall.
He was being dramatic. It was just a dress. It wasn’t the end of the world to
wear a pretty dress. Even if the dress was clearly that of a maiden and Draco
had always considered himself a dominant partner. He had been wearing maiden
robes for months now; he didn’t understand why the dress was so difficult. That
was a lie. He did understand. This dress had been made by Heir Kendrick to
entrap him. Draco would go to the feast tonight wearing this dress and it would
make Kendrick’s claim clear to every one and it would seem like the time-
traveller approved and supported that claim and that was simply not true.
“Lord Draco?” inquired Athils uncertainly; the young servant had been draining
the bath.
Draco supposed he painted a strange scene: wearing just a thin robe after his
bath and just looking at the dress. He wasn’t really sure what his expression
was right now. That was dangerous, he thought absent-mindedly. But he was too
tired and too deep in his thoughts and doubts and concerns to try to morph his
expression into something more acceptable, something more maidenly and sweet.
“It is a beautiful dress”, he said softly, not knowing what else to say.
His manservant approached him cautiously, “A most magnificent gown, my lord.
Heir Malfoy has given you a beautiful gift”
The petite blond smiled bitterly, “Is it? A gift?”
This wasn’t a gift. Draco was a Malfoy, he had plenty of experience with gifts.
And this dress wasn’t a gift. Gifts were given by his parents and friends and
had no connotations that would doom Draco. This was a trap. A pretty trap that
would make his position in the past even more difficult than it already was. It
wasn’t as if he truly had a choice, though. A gift such as this couldn’t be
refused. He would have to put on the corset that changed his body to Heir
Kendrick’s likening and he would have to put on the dress in Heir Kendrick’s
colours that would make his claim clear to all.
“My lord?” asked gently Athils.
Draco closed his silver eyes. He was being foolish. Athils wasn’t his friend,
he wasn’t loyal to him. It was dangerous to speak such words near him. The
manservant was sharp and observant; the time-traveller mustn’t give him any
more information that could be used against him. It was just so hard to be
surrounded by people everyday. People he couldn’t trust and only spoke wonders
of Heir Kendrick. They were trying to manipulate him; Draco wasn’t stupid, he
knew. It was still hard and exhausting to have to watch what he said and what
he did every second of the day. Having to ponder whether he had been maidenly
enough or if he had spoken too fondly of Heir Kendrick or not fondly enough.
“Nonsense, Athils, I was being silly”, he replied, forcing a bright smile on
his fair face.
“Are you – are you nervous, Lord Draco?” inquired the manservant, “King Falk is
House Malfoy’s ally and has been for a long time. Nothing will go wrong at the
feast, my lord”
Athils wasn’t stupid. He had to know that Draco wasn’t nervous about seeing an
envoy from another kingdom. And yet, it gave the petite blond an excuse for his
anxiety. It was a much more admissible excuse than that of being nervous of
wearing his supposedly dear courter’s gift. The Slytherin felt a spark of
gratitude for his manservant, even though he knew it was ill advised and
Athils’ ultimate loyalty wasn’t to him.
“Of course, I worry about nothing”, he stated with the same tones of his
elegant mother, starting to untie his bathrobe.
Although his manservant didn’t seem very convinced, he said nothing and started
to help him put on the corset. It felt very odd to feel the corset tighten
around his body; he could feel it with every breath he took. Draco swallowed
thickly.
“I could loosen it, my lord”, offered quietly Athils.
“No, no, it is supposed to be worn this way. Chaperon Meyers will be displeased
if I don’t wear it as it was meant to”, he rejected quickly, this gift had to
be worn as Heir Kendrick had envisioned.
It took a while to dress Draco and style his hair, far longer than it did for
his maidenly robes. The dark sea green would look uncannily similar to that
jewelled forest green of House Malfoy; it would be almost undistinguishable in
the dim candlelight of the feast. The only consolation was that the embroidery
wasn’t in gold but in white and a light grey. The Slytherin had intended to
wear the dress with pearls and white gold. However, his suitor had gifted him
with a chain necklace of gold and pearls that ended with a gold pendant with a
sizable emerald. He had to roll it twice, so the pendant could be worn as a
choker. His fair blond hair had been braided with pearls and tiny emeralds.
He studied the result in the mirror in silence. The maiden in the mirror looked
like a Malfoy bride. He seemed fertile with a tiny waist and broad hips. He was
beautiful with delicate features well-suited for a maiden. He looked nothing
like Draco Malfoy, Heir of House Malfoy. Draco Malfoy was the powerful Heir of
an influential House. This maiden in the mirror was beautiful and docile, he
looked ready to bond with his warrior and grow with child.
He twisted his gaze away from the mirror; he hoped Heir Kendrick wouldn’t see
what he saw. However, the Slytherin knew it would be a futile hope. His suitor
had designed this image, had wanted to display him in court looking like this.
It seemed like his suitor was growing ever-more impatient. He feared the day
the dragon-rider would propose marriage. Draco had truly believed he could
lengthen the courtship until he found a way to go back home. Now, he wasn’t so
sure. He had only regained half of his magic: enough to not be ill or
exhausted, but hardly enough to survive on his own in the wild Old Times and
certainly not enough to power a ritual to send him back to the future.
“You look beautiful, my lord”, breathed out Athils, admiration clear in his
voice.
Only a few months ago, Draco would have preened at the praise. He remembered
how smug he had felt at the disbelief of his beauty when he had left his rooms
for the first time. It was bittersweet now. If he hadn’t been so beautiful, he
doubted that Heir Kendrick would have pursued him so ardently and forced him
into this position. At the same time, he wasn’t sure the dragon rider would
have saved him and brought him to Fortress Malfoy had he not been beautiful.
Beauty was a blessing and a curse. He had never realised it before, he had been
part of a powerful House that protected him from the disadvantages of his
beauty.
“Thank you, Athils”, he replied with maidenly modesty as he tried not to think
of the stranger in the mirror.
“You are beautiful, my dear maiden”, stated Heir Kendrick, his golden eyes
burning in their desire.
Draco gave him a graceful curtsy, even though they were alone in the corridor
if not for Athils and such formality was probably not needed. Such courtesies
were small things that let Draco cling to the feeling of distance to his
suitor. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to deter his suitor who blatantly ignored
any display of reluctance on the Slytherin’s part.
“I am glad to please you, my lord”, he replied sweetly.
The dragon rider barked a laugh, “You please me well, my darling. Come, I shall
escort you to the feast”
The petite blond took the offered muscular arm, placing his pale hand daintily
on his suitor’s green sleeve. He almost didn’t have to consciously think to
keep his movements graceful and maidenly. They had only taken a few steps when
his suitor abruptly stopped in the middle of the long corridor. The next he
knew, his lips were on fire. Draco gasped as he felt the dragon rider
passionately possess his mouth. As abruptly as Heir Kendrick had taken
possession of him, he wrenched away from him. The Slytherin felt his cheeks
heat and his lips felt tender.
“My beautiful maiden”, sighed the green-haired wizard as he caressed his cheek
gently, his voice low and rough, “Come, we mustn’t arrive late to the feast”
Draco said nothing, still disoriented. He wasn’t sure whether he had liked or
disliked the kiss. It had been too fast and too overwhelming to determine. He
hadn’t truly disliked it, he thought. Heir Kendrick’s lips had been warm and
his hands on his waist had been even warmer. He did feel warm inside, similar
to how flustered he had become upon seeing Heir Kendrick riding his dragon. At
the same time, he wasn’t sure of how to feel. Would his suitor expect now to
steal more scorching kisses from him? Had he planned that? Was that why his
chaperone hadn’t escorted him instead of the dragonrider?
He was so preoccupied in his thoughts that it took him a while to be able to
focus again.
“Prince Falk, and this is my betrothed, Maiden Draco”, stated proudly Heir
Kendrick.
Betrothed? They weren’t betrothed yet! Was the dragon rider serious or did he
just want to establish his claim in front of a foreigner? He glanced at his
suitor but the Malfoy was looking directly to Prince Falk. Prince Falk was a
wizard of thirty years, with brown hair and green eyes. He was tall and broad
like most warriors and sported a scar on his cheek.
“You have been blessed with such a beauty for your betrothed, Prince Kendrick”,
replied the smiling wizard.
“Aye, I have”, retorted the dragon rider with a possessive hand placed on the
small of Draco’s back.
Indignation dwelled up in the petite blond. They were talking of him as though
he wasn’t there. Was his distraction so obvious? Was Prince Falk dismissing him
because his lips were swollen? Or was Prince Falk unwilling to speak with him
when Kendrick was so obviously staking his claim?
“It is an honour to meet you, Prince Falk. I have heard of your strong alliance
with House Malfoy”, greeted him formally Draco.
Prince Falk acknowledged him with a smile but quickly averted his eyes from the
petite maiden and focused on speaking with Heir Kendrick. The rest of the night
progressed in much the same fashion: no one wished to speak with Draco who was
clearly to be a Malfoy yet he wasn’t bonded. Nobody wished for the dragon rider
to think they were attacking his claim. So no one spoke to Draco and the
Slytherin was paraded in his suitor’s arm, still confused of what had happened
in the corridor. He was now sure that Heir Kendrick had planned to escort him
and had dismissed his chaperone for the night. It was troublesome that his
chaperone would follow his suitor’s orders.
“Father, doesn’t this colouring suit Maiden Draco?” inquired his suitor
purposefully.
The Slytherin’s heart jumped at his chest at the question. Heir Kendrick was
quite brazen, asking whether his colours suited him to his Patriarch. It could
be seen as the equivalent of requesting his father’s blessing on his courtship
of Draco. Ragnvaldr’s lips tightened at the question. Duke Malfoy stopped
eating and contemplated Draco. The time-traveller didn’t know what would be
worse: the Duke saying that the colours didn’t become him or saying they did.
Denying that the colours suited the Slytherin would be a clear sign of
disapproval of Draco. He didn’t know what that could lead. Whereas if the Duke
said the colours suited the maiden, he would be giving his approval to their
marriage.
“Indeed, green favours Maiden Draco”, stated clearly the century-old dragon
rider, his serpentine golden eyes still fixed on the petite blond.
 
Chapter End Notes
     The transition of the scenes is so choppy because I wanted to show
     how disoriented and deep in his doubts Draco is. Tell me if it works
     or makes it hard to follow :)
***** Chapter 13 *****
His lips were on fire and his head was in the clouds. Draco gave a choked moan,
suddenly finding himself in his suitor’s arms. Heir Kendrick passionately
possessed his inviting lips and quickly invaded his sweet mouth. The petite
Slytherin’s silver eyes closed and his hands tightened their hold on the dragon
rider’s shoulders. This was pleasure and danger and fire all in one. The blond
Slytherin didn’t have any experience in the arts of pleasure, having only
kissed Pansy a couple of times. But those had been the timid kisses of
pureblood and sheltered fourteen-year-olds; it had certainly not been anything
like this. This was entrancing and bewitching like nothing else he had
experienced. The passionate attack took him by surprise and the titillation of
his suitor’s actions made him forget of how unwise enjoying the Heir’s
attentions was.
A noise must have tipped the powerful warrior to stop, for as suddenly as he
had taken hold of Draco, the older Malfoy stepped away. The young time-
traveller opened his eyes and stared up to his suitor. Kendrick’s golden eyes
were still dark with passion and were fixed on his lips. In that moment, the
Slytherin beauty could almost see himself joined in marriage to Heir Malfoy,
staying in the past and bearing his children. However, that moment was utterly
shattered.
“Nephew”, sneered Lord Ragnvaldr, “It is most unbecoming of House Malfoy to
canoodle in such a manner with Maiden Draco”
Duke Malfoy’s brother was standing there in the gardens, his serpentine golden
eyes narrowed at them with disapproval. His magic was slightly flared around
him, indicating just how much he disapproved of the situation. He was as
powerful as Duke Malfoy, realised abruptly Draco, even though he wasn’t as old.
There must have been at least twenty years in difference between Duke Malfoy
and his half-brother. Despite the age difference, the younger brother was still
the most trusted advisor.
And Lord Ragnvaldr had found Draco letting himself be ravaged by his suitor,
the young Slytherin lowered his eyes to the floor submissively, feeling his
cheeks blush in mortification. How could he have let Heir Kendrick kiss him so
inappropriately? He didn’t even want to marry the dragon rider! And yet he had
let the older wizard possess him. He was supposed to be a dominant, not a
maiden and yet he had melted into the green-haired Malfoy’s embrace.
If his father could see him know, as Lord of House Malfoy, he would punish
Draco quite harshly for putting his virtue and reputation in jeopardy. The
preferred marriage rituals of British dark purebloods required virginity for
them to work, he would be ostracised at home at the very least if he had been
surprised in such position. They would assume that if he behaved in such a
manner in public, what would he have done in behind closed doors?
“Uncle”, greeted icily cold Heir Kendrick, “I have not breached any courting
rules, our chaperon is merely a few feet away and would surely stop us before
it could escalate. I merely kissed my beautiful maiden”
The tension between nephew and uncle had increased since the last time Draco
had observed an interaction. The evidence of the damaged relationship made his
stomach heavy with guilt even though, he technically had done no wrong. Still,
he knew he was the cause of the declining and rapidly growing antagonistic
relationship between the uncle and nephew.
“Chaperon Meyers allows you too many liberties”, replied coldly the Duke’s
advisor, “At this rate, Maiden Draco won’t remain a maiden for too long”
The time-traveller’s lips parted in astonishment at the insult to his virtue.
He wished he could indignation and outrage. However, his shame only growing as
he recalled how easily he had fallen into Heir Kendrick’s arms, would he have
had enough mind to stop the dragon rider? He thought he would have, and yet he
wasn’t completely sure. And hadn’t he behaved most unseemly with his suitor?
Especially considering that he had no intention of marrying said suitor. His
only desire was to go back to his time and, still he allowed Kendrick to kiss
him and hold him against him.
He was brought out of his admonishing thoughts at Heir Kendrick’s body
trembling in fury, his magic cracking dangerously around him. The young Malfoy
bit his lower lip hesitantly as the golden eyes flashed in outrage.
“You dare!?” bellowed angrily Kendrick taking a step forward towards his uncle
threateningly.
No! This couldn’t happen. He couldn’t cause a duel between uncle and nephew.
This simply couldn’t do. It would weaken House Malfoy too much to be faced with
such inner house drama. And everyone in court would hate him for his virtue
would have been the cause of the duel. If he had regained his strength and
could go back to his time, it would be no trouble. As it was, he was still too
weak for such a thing. Furthermore, gossip on his virtue would only encourage
Heir Kendrick to propose to put a stop to rumours. He still had no plan to
avoid such marriage; therefore this duel couldn’t take place.
He took hold of the warrior’s elbow gently, “Heir Kendrick, while Lord
Ragnvaldr exaggerates, it is true that we behaved most inappropriately”, he
blushed darkly, “Such things are for marriage and not before”, he couldn’t
elaborate more, too embarrassed.
“Hush, Draco, we merely kissed, it is nothing that has never happened between
courting couples”, replied the dragon rider, thankfully there was amusement in
his voice.
It was true that courting couples sneaked kissed. However, the Slytherin was
sure that their kisses weren’t of such intensity. This was closer to snogging
than to kissing, after all.
“It would be”, the petite blond hesitated at his choice of words, “wise not to
do so again”
Kendrick looked ready to speak, his handsome face full now of merriment at what
he saw as his betrothed’s naiveté. It was slightly condescending on his
suitor’s side, decided Draco, feeling irritation grow in his chest even though
he still felt embarrassed at the events of the day.
“Excellent”, stated Lord Ragnvaldr coldly, “Now that proper courting behaviour
is clear, your presence is required in the war room, Kendrick”
At the mention of the war room, the dragon rider’s face lost all its good
humour and he nodded sharply. Draco felt worry pool at his heart at the sight.
Was there to be war? Had House Malfoy’s enemies learnt of their internal divide
and decided to fight the dragons? He bit his lower lip at the thought. At
least, thanks to his extensive private tutoring he knew that his presence in
the past had created an alternative time line. So even if House Malfoy fell
(which was incredibly unlikely, he reminded himself), if he returned to his own
timeline, his family would be still alive and well. The thought of war still
made him uncomfortable.
“My beautiful maiden, I enjoy every moment in your company, alas duty calls me
away”, stated gallantly Heir Kendrick, kissing the back of his hand.
“Of course, Heir Kendrick”, he replied at a loss of what to say.
The dragon rider then turned around and followed his uncle out of the gardens
at a brisk pace. Their very demeanour indicated trouble. It was unlikely that
any House could rival House Malfoy with its powerful dragons, impervious to
almost all magicks. By this time, none of the spells and charms dragon keepers
used had been invented. That would be only a few centuries before Draco’s
original time. Therefore it was improbable to say the least, that the Malfoys
would be defeated. And the blond time-traveller wished fervently for the
Malfoys to remain undefeated, for he was far from being recovered from his
magic drainage.
“Maiden Draco, I believe it is time to return to the embroidery circle”,
announced Chaperone Meyers from behind him.
The thought of the embroidery circle only filled him with dread. Even though he
had to be attentive to dissuade the other maidens from the matchmaking with
Heir Kendrick, the embroidery circle remained painfully boring. Most of the
maidens either were or feigned being vapid and simple. And after receiving the
dragon rider’s dress as a gift and wearing it, he had been repeatedly
encouraged to embroider a shirt for his betrothed. Because apparently, wearing
the gifted dress, had made all notions of the courtship not ending in betrothal
ridiculous.
Still, Draco stretched his lips in a courteous smile and said, “Of course”
It would be later, that night, when he was bathing that he would make further
inquiries on the matter of the war council. He had made some insinuations in
the embroidery circle, yet it had been clear that his fellow maidens didn’t
know anything about it for they hadn’t even twitched at his veiled
insinuations. His manservant, Athils, was usually better informed even if he
didn’t share all with Draco. Still, the young servant was a spy for the Malfoys
so he would for sure bring up their encounter.
“How did your afternoon with Heir Kendrick proceed, Maiden Draco?” asked
curiously the young wizard as he washed the time-traveller’s fair hair.
The Slytherin blushed upon remembering those ardent lips, “He was very…
enthusiastic. Too much so, my Father would never approve”
The thirteen-year-old laughed merrily, “Most sires would react similarly. But
it was… pleasant?”
“Athils!” exclaimed scandalised the young pureblood, sitting up in the bath.
“I’ll take that as a yes, Maiden Draco”, replied cheekily the brown-haired
manservant.
“Lord Ragnvaldr arrived and was most displeased. He said- well, it matters not
what he said. But Heir Kendrick was angry. They seem to be fighting”, he
timidly said, the first time he had ever acknowledged the feud between uncle
and nephew, yet it had reached a point that even the most wilfully blind could
not ignore.
Athils remained silent for a few seconds, “Lord Ragnvaldr is hesitant in
regards to Heir Kendrick’s courtship of you. It is nothing you have done,
Maiden Draco, he is just wary of foreigners”
It certainly didn’t help that Draco had somehow appeared in Malfoy territory
and that he possessed a bewitching beauty. The thought was bitter in his mouth
and the petite blond sighed. He considered asking about Duke Malfoy’s true
position on the matter. Nevertheless, Athils had used the term “hesitant” to
describe Lord Ragnvaldr’s evident disapproval and anger, he doubted the spy
would be honest about his liege’s opinion. He probably knew, though. It made
Draco suddenly desirous of trying Legilimency. However, unlike with Occlumency,
he had only started the basics with his Aunt Bellatrix before leaving his
timeline. Athils would surely notice.
“So I am the cause of their strife”, he concluded sadly, “is this union truly
wise?”
It was too good an opportunity not to bring up doubts about the match. His
uncle’s rejection was obviously not enough to reconsider the match for Heir
Kendrick, so his own doubts on the matter wouldn’t truly impact the match.
Still, he wasn’t sure if Athils was a spy for a specific Malfoy. As such, it
was better to verge on caution. If he was a spy for Duke Malfoy, his doubts
would hopefully reach his ears. Furthermore, it would not be wise to act as
though the conflict didn’t disturb him. That would only make him look either as
a self-absorbed selfish maiden or as cunning spy sowing dissent in powerful
House Malfoy.
The young manservant quickly retorted, “It is natural now that Heir Kendrick
has more power and influence as Heir, that there would be more friction between
nephew and uncle”
“Heir Kendrick was called away for a war council… is there a conflict?” he
questioned, his voice low and worried.
The manservant gave him a gentle smile, “There was trouble with King Pridham,
but his kingdom is smaller than House Malfoy’s and what can he do against
dragons? House Malfoy has a very powerful military force. Although King Pridham
is difficult, he has not choice but to relent”
“Why is King Pridham causing trouble?” he asked stepping out of the bath
carefully.
Athils enveloped him in the towel and started to dry him off, “Nothing
important, poaching”
The answer was a lie. Draco had spent most of his time with his manservant for
months. He knew he couldn’t discern prepared lies; Athils was too good a liar
for that. Nonetheless, this lie had been unplanned as his questions had been
unexpected. Apparently, King Pridham had a quarrel with House Malfoy and House
Malfoy preferred he not know the details. It only made him more curious over
what it could possibly be.
***** Chapter 14 *****
Chapter Notes
     I have added in the notes of the last couple of chapters the outfits
     that Draco has been wearing, even though the doll is obviously a
     woman so its just an approximate idea. Tell me if you enjoy the
     visuals :)
     For this chapter its this one: www.dolldivine.com/Modified-Dolls/
     Serena90-3027853
Draco stared anxiously at the odd silver instrument. It was like a small tower
with seven pillars and a round blue ball in the centre and several thin strands
curling and uniting the pillars. It was supposed to measure the young
Slytherin’s magic. So far the results had been most unsatisfactory. His magic
recovered slowly albeit surely. He hoped that this time the result would be
good enough to be able to cast magic. He missed magic fiercely. He would start
doing a small unconscious spell, like he had done through his entire life, his
warm magic coursing through his veins and rushing to satisfy his request. And
then he would remember he wasn’t supposed to do so and that his recovery relied
on his not using his magic. He would have to stop the flow of warm, welcoming
magic. It was terrible.
Healer Reid studied the instrument intently, focused on the minute changed in
the blue ball. So far, Draco had guessed that she studied the intensity of the
light in the blue ball and the change of shade. The light seemed a bit stronger
than last week’s. He glanced at the Healer’s expression trying to discern
whether it was good enough.
The kind witch straightened with a small smile, “It seems that you have
recovered enough to cast small spells, Maiden Draco”
The young pureblood couldn’t stop the wide beam on his fair face at the great
news, “Finally, I can do some magic!”
“With care, Maiden Draco. I don’t want you pouring all your magic into your
embroidery! No more than a shift a day, young maiden!” warned the Healer
sternly, putting away her odd instruments.
Draco wisely didn’t comment on how he didn’t even know how to pour his magic
into his embroidery. As the magic in this time was more unrefined and most
people didn’t have focuses such as a wand, warriors created broad attacks with
their magic and maidens poured their magic into their embroidery. Apparently,
it wasn’t unusual at all, to find a baby shift with every single inch covered
in embroidery with magic infused protection intent. It gave the embroidery
sessions a new light, but they still had been incredibly boring for Draco, who
couldn’t use his magic at all. Still he wondered what would happen if he
embroidered runes and infused them with magic. The spell would be far more
direct that the vague intent of magic woven into the cloth.
The beautiful time-traveller nodded obediently, “Of course, Healer Reid, I
shall behave”
The seventy-six year-old witch chuckled amused at his angelical expression, “Do
be careful, young maiden, I have no wish for a setback in your recovery.
Besides, Heir Malfoy is most anxiously awaiting for news of you improvement”
The smile remained on the Slytherin’s face with much more effort than it
looked. He had been relying on his recovery of magic exhaustion to postpone
walks with his suitor, doing his best to slow down the courting that was going
too fast for him. He thought that Kendrick knew what he was up to. It hadn’t
been too discreet. However, Heir Kendrick had introduced him to Prince Falk as
his betrothed, even though Draco hadn’t been proposed to and had most certainly
not accepted such proposal.
The dragon-rider had noticed his displeasure, for once, and had tried to ply
him with gifts of expensive jewellery in emeralds and pearls. As though giving
him gifts in House Malfoy’s colours made it any better. Heir Kendrick had even
gifted him with several yards of the sea green fabric that his gown had been
made of. Staking his claim and apologizing at the same time, the powerful heir
must have thought himself very canny.
“Yes, he shall be glad at the news”, he chirped as expected cordially.
“Well, then, I shall take my leave, Maiden Draco. I shall see you next week at
the same time to measure your magic’s state. Remember not to overdo it, even if
it’s tempting after so long without magic”, stated the Healer as she gave her
coffret to her apprentice.
“Thank you for your time, Healer Reid. Good bye, Colby”, he told them kindly,
ignoring the deep blush of the apprentice healer at his kind smile.
He sat down on his chair with a sigh. He was uncertain on what to do. On one
hand, his magic exhaustion played in his favour delaying the possible wedding
between Heir Kendrick and him. On the other hand, he needed his magic to go
back to his time. He studied the scene of a forest in the thick tapestry in
front of him absent-mindedly. Before the dragon-rider’s bold move, offering the
heart of the hippogriff, he had planned to go through a ritual to increase his
magic reserves as soon as he had enough magic to do so. That said, he didn’t
want the reports of his increased magic to go to Heir Kendrick. It was quite
the conundrum.
It was hard to make an impartial decision because he missed his magic like a
limb. He missed using his magic thoughtlessly, straightening his robe or moving
the dish or casting away a spot of dirt. Simple things he had never even
thought on. They were so simple to him that he didn’t even need the use of a
wand to do so. He wanted to get his magic back, but he couldn’t speed up his
recovery until he had a plan to get back home.
He had analysed his original ritual, which was supposed to grant him memories
and ended up sending him to the past. There was nothing wrong with the ritual.
It had been Malfoy Fortress itself that had changed the ritual and caused his
little time-travelling adventure. He was wary of what would happen when he
tried to go back to his time, would the fortress even let him? For safety, he
would have to go to a place with high ambient magic. However, he needed
familiar magic such as the magic of Malfoy Fortress. He was unsure of what to
do.
Furthermore, he still hadn’t achieved his mission: he knew nothing of the
warrior ways of House Malfoy of this time. He didn’t know how they mastered the
dragons or what spells they used in war. That might change since there had been
a war council. He mused thoughtfully. He still hadn’t discovered why there had
been a war council. There was a conflict with House Pridham, a smaller kingdom
nearby. Nonetheless, no one could tell him why exactly there was a conflict or
how had the relationship between the two kingdoms developed through the past
years. Everyone seemed to avoid the subject of House Pridham with him and it
wasn’t because they believed Draco to be a spy.
“Maiden Draco”, called Athils, knocking on the door to his bedchamber and
coming inside quickly, “Heir Kendrick is calling upon you. I believe he wished
to walk with you”
The blond Slytherin pursed his lips, “Chaperone Anne isn’t here yet”
His young manservant seemed bewildered, “It is for a walk in the gardens, you
would be in full view of other walkers”
“There was an… unpleasantness last time I walked through the gardens with Heir
Kendrick. I don’t want for there to be any doubt of my virtue. Please call
Chaperone Anne and let Heir Kendrick wait by the door”, he instructed serenely.
Athils, the good eavesdropper that he was, probably knew of the awful encounter
with Lord Ragnvaldr who had accused Draco of being loose. He looked reluctant,
but nodded dutifully and went to inform Heir Kendrick that he was going to
fetch the chaperone and to wait at the door. It must be quite nerve-wrecking
for a manservant like Athils to tell the Heir to the Dukedom to wait by the
door.
He stood up and studied himself in the mirror: a robe in his House’s colours
that he had lightly modified to look more maidenly, with long and large sleeves
and a tightened waist. His braided bun was overly complicated and uncomfortable
for his taste and it had taken quite long for even skilled Athils to make it.
He did look more gentle and sweet than he would look in his usual outfits, but
it wasn’t the unrecognizable maiden in green from the last feast. Still, he now
adopted the sweet submissive expression more naturedly and his movements were
more maidenly graceful than before without him consciously putting in the
effort. No one would doubt that Draco was a beautiful maiden. He wondered what
his father would think upon seeing him in such a manner. Probably despair at
the sight of his only heir in maiden clothes.
It didn’t take long for chaperone Anne to arrive, her cheeks were red and she
was lightly panting as dignified as she could, “Letting Heir Kendrick wait,
what were you thinking boy? That is no way to treat a suitor!” berated him the
chaperone sternly.
It was the first time his chaperone had been so clearly Heir Kendrick’s
creature. He wondered whether Lord Ragnvaldr knew that the chaperone he had
chosen was already under the younger dragon-rider’s orders. Probably after the
display of last time, he knew. Although mayhaps Lord Ragnvaldr had told her to
encourage Draco to ruin his reputation in order to be unsuitable for the young
heir. However, it was likelier that would just make Heir Kendrick demand a
quick secret wedding than discourage him.
“I won’t put my reputation at risk. I have already misbehaved too much. My
father would kill me if he knew that I had let Heir Kendrick kiss me like he
did on our last walk”, he replied dignifiedly, trying to sound as firm and
gentle as his own mother did when giving orders to her subordinates.
The tall chaperone looked at him surprised. She knew him as this timid and
sweet maiden; it was quite like him to reply so surely. Still he sounded like
the consort of a great lord, which he would become in little time if one looked
at Heir Kendrick’s impatient demeanour. Nevertheless, her surprise didn’t last
long and soon she was rushing him out the door of his chambers.
“You look as beautiful as always, my dear”, greeted him gallantly Heir
Kendrick.
The young Heir was still dressed in his leathers for dragon riding, supporting
the thought that he must have been scouting for threats to their kingdom. It
seemed like the conflict with House Pridham was escalating quite quickly. He
felt a spark of fear at the thought of war, remembering Malfoy manor invaded by
their supposed allies. Still, Malfoy Fortress would probably be untouched by
the war even if it came to that. It was strong in defences and magic and the
centre of dragon territory, only a madman would try to attack it.
And yet, if Kendrick died what would happen to him? Despite its unlikeliness,
his position if Kendrick fell in battle would be quite precarious. Lord
Ragnvaldr hated him believing he was some sort of seducer with evil intent and
he was still unsure of Duke Malfoy’s position. The Duke seemed amenable enough
to him, but mayhaps he believed he was a passing fancy and if not, chances were
he would die in less than a year in childbirth.
“Thank you, my lord, you look quite fit as well. Have you just been riding
Hillevi?” he asked lightly as he deposited his dainty hand on the offered
elbow.
“Yes, it was quite a good ride. There’s nothing like the fresh air of the
morn”, commented the dragon-rider gaily.
“You have been exercising with her more lately”, observed Draco as they walked
through the corridors with the chaperone following them.
Kendrick nodded towards one of the guards, whose armour indicated a higher rank
than the usual guards inside the castle, “Is that so? I couldn’t say”
The young Slytherin glanced at his companion and opted for a more direct
approach, “There is been talk of conflict with House Pridham”
“House Pridham?” questioned the older wizard, his voice hardening, “And what
have they told you of House Pridham?”
His stomach fell heavy. Heir Kendrick’s expression was quite tense. There was
something about House Pridham the dark haired wizard didn’t want him to know.
It made worry bubble up in Draco’s stomach, for why would Kendrick be so
strained if it didn’t concern Draco?
“Oh, not much, I am afraid. Only that there’s been some trouble with poaching?
Apparently, their hunters are encroaching into the game of your kingdom and the
conflict seems to be escalating”, replied Draco trying to seem untroubled and
indifferent.
The dragon-rider’s shoulders relaxed minutely and he gave the petite blond a
broad smile, “Who has been filling your ears with such nonsense, my dear?
There’s no trouble, everything will be solved easily”
“Of course, my lord, they can’t stand to the might of your dragons, I was
merely curious”, responded genially the young time-traveller with a false
smile.
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