Prolog- Fallen for a Twist of Fate

It was dark, midnight to be exact when she found him after years of searching. It was never here that she thought to look, after all this place was one racked with the pain of old memories….the reason why they could never be together.

Silence racked through the empty house, each footstep reminded her of the past, the moments when they….so very long ago, had last been in this house. The eerie silence filled with the screams of the past, her own screams echoing in her head. She hated this place and all it stood for….and yet it was her last hope.

It had been many years since they last saw one another, in fact it had been many years since anyone had last seen him. This was her last hope, after all he was her friend….he was all of there friends. She walked…the footsteps muffled by the rug beneath her feet
.
A soft flickering light played at the end of the hall….candlelight? She crept towards the soft light, the warm light. Slowly she opened the door. Leery to what she would find, how she would find him.

He had his back to her but she saw him, poised beneath the portrait that was such a likeness to him and yet….was not him. But then they had always looked very much alike. He spoke before the words where out of her lips.

“I knew it would be you to come after me” he didn’t look up but continued to stare at the wall ahead of him. There was a hoarseness in his voice that showed the passing of time, “It would always be you”

“You….are my friend….I couldn’t let you just run away like that….” She moved closer as she spoke, each step was a bit shaky. After all the years where getting to her bones as well.

“I….couldn’t do it anymore” He closed something close to him, held it tightly against his frail chest.

“Your being selfish!” her voice was a cry out, though hers much showed her age as well. She stood before him, towering over him as he sat before her and looked down at the boy who once had more courage then anyone gave him credit for. His once silvery blond hair now racked with grey, his smooth skin wrought with the lines of his age, yet his eyes where the same eyes of a boy far beyond his years.

“Maybe I am…..but it really doesn’t matter anymore does it…” He spoke gently and his hands shifted slightly.

She saw it…the book in her hands and suddenly her face fell. “Draco…I…” She looked away this time, up at the portrait of his father on the wall, “You know why…..I had to…”

He coughed gently, “Does the truth so desperately still need to be hidden….surely there aren’t any left….”

“Just us….We’re the last two Draco….the only two left from that war so very long ago”

“Can….” he paused, letting his voice trail, looking away.

She looked at him, knowing his sadness, after all no one knew about the seventh player in the trio of six. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Lets rewrite it….after all we have nothing to hide anymore.”

He looked up at her and smiled, despite it being tiredly, “You…would help me?”

“Of course….but you’ll have to tell the story….your story…I only know parts of it”

“I‘ve never had such a friend as you, thank you”

Chapter 1- To be a Malfoy

When asked most people will say the best place to start a story is at the beginning, but really this only brazes the top of the true answer. The true question is, where is the beginning? Where is the best place to start a story, my story? I could start with my birth, I was born on …..to two lovely parents….I grew up.

Yeah, how very one sided and flat is that beginning? No I don’t think that hardly brazes the complexities that are me and my family. No, I think my story begins a long time before my birth….and even longer before I was ever even a thought in this world.

The thing about me that you most have to know is I come from both a Malfoy and a Black. My father Luscious Malfoy comes from a long line of Malfoys in which the only two things that inherently ever mattered where being pure of blood, and money. After all with money you could buy anything your heart desired, even social status.

My father was raised on these values, had them beaten into him day after day by the very people he called family and yet he believes they are truths that he always believed and would always believe even had he been allowed to make his own choices. I do not know on that account, but knowing my father, I believe there may be some truth in that, but then it may be just one more string in the web of lies that form the bonds between our family.

My father, how to describe my father in so few words. My father was tough, and believed in his money, the money he never worked a day in his life for. I guess he was what the muggles would call a trust fund baby. I don’t really know the validity behind that statement either, as muggles confuse me, and somewhere deep within me I still disassociate myself from them.

He was known for throwing his money into many charitable things that by the populace where seen as generous and kind, but even then I knew better, money bought status, money bought remembrance, and most of all money bought friends. Not the type of friends perhaps that most people would choose, being that they where desperately loyal until your funds run dry or they found another, more powerful friend to cling to. My father was the type to make sure he was always the one to which they clung so desperately. Another trait he learned from my grandfather, who learned it from his father and the trait continues back as far as anyone can remember.

People often though that my father may be abusive towards me, there was never any proof and so they never stepped forward but I could see them whispering behind their hands as I walked by. After all I am not stupid, I can see them, hear the unspoken words in their glances. I can see the sadness unspoken. They all thought I was tragically abused, both physically and mentally. They thought my father was taking the time to beat the lessons into me that where beaten into him, though in my father’s youth it wasn’t considered abusive.

However, on contrary to popular belief, I was not abused. My father might be a bit of a bully, and he may have abused the elf who worked for us, but my father never abused me. He loved me through and through, just as he loved my mother, another rumor laid to rest. After all they thought she was being abused as well. My father, could harm us no more then he could harm himself. There is no need for lies, why would there be, years after the pair have been laid to rest, may the dead rest in peace.

If the Malfoy’s where bad when it came to the idea of believing in their blood being superior to that of the muggles, it is nothing, and I mean NOTHING, to the way the Black’s felt about it. It is a commonplace practice in the House of Black to remove from the family tree those people who they no longer felt where worth of having the Black name, like poor Sirius, and Andromeda for instance. After all you didn’t get any more traitorous then Sirius Black in the House of Black.

Regulous Black, Sirius’ younger brother, was one of the first to cross over to the dark side when Lord Voldemort, the great leader of Purebloods took surface, this being said that he later discovered Voldemort’s true nature and fought against him, but that is an entirely different matter all together. The simple fact of the matter was in the beginning he was just as hoodwinked as the rest of them by the ideal that Purebloods held the most high standing.

My mother, had the pleasure of being a member of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, and also of staying on the family tree. She after all married into another most pronounced family of the Malfoys. She valued the family values as if they where her own, simply because she did not know anything else.

My mother, Narcissa Black, how does one describe her. She was the strength of my family, nothing about her was weak in anyway. She was also fiercely loyal to her family. So much so was the kindness in her heart, I do believe that she would have been the first in our family to turn to Dumbledore’s side if she was not tied to the darkness by her love for me, and for my father. However, a complaint about her choices would never form in her mind, and even less would they reach her delicate lips. She was proud of what she was, proud of her choices, and strong in her will to keep her family healthy, alive and strong. She had such strength that no one knew she had, but I did, I saw her determination over and over again. I knew my father knew as well, and he would do anything she said without question. I never heard my parents argue, it was simply my mother said, and my father did.

For centuries the ideal of a Black and a Malfoy joining by marriage was tried and tried again but never where the right circumstances present. Something was usually amiss usually by age defenses or it was all male’s in that generation or females, so try as they might for centuries. The ideal was starting to seem like a hopeless dream. That is until my mother and father, they both met when they where both young. In fact the two of them grew up together, played together as children, and went to school together when they where old enough. So much so was the hope that they might marry…..and this thought was always implanted in their minds.

When they grew old enough, and to nobody’s surprise they did marry. I would like to put the record straight, as much as this marriage was convenient and very much wanted by both families. Narcissa Black, my mother, did not have her choice made for her, in fact quite the opposite, Narcissa Black married for love. My mother and father loved each other deeply. It was a match that the heavens must have aligned for. My mother would have married my father even if he had not been a Malfoy, I would like to believe the same goes for my father, but given his past the best I can do is hope. He did love her in equal amounts to her love for him. It truly was a match made in heaven.

My mother and father where not married long when Lord Voldemort came into power. At first neither joined, my mother simply had no interest and tough my father had wanted to join, he was always one to follow my mother. Their families certainly where both pushing them in that direction though, and soon even my mother did not fight it, she let her husband join the band of the loyal followers who surrounded the most powerful man around and she followed him, as everyone knew that she would. Her loyalty knows no bounds, if her husband was to join the war, she would as well. They soon rose to the ranks within the dark lord’s most inner circle, as well as her sister Bellatrix.

Despite their constant busy nature with the dark war surrounding them they felt they had nothing to fear. I mean what is there to fear when you work side by side with the most powerful man on earth. This was of course, loooong, loooong, before his defeat. Some would have argued that the great Dumbledore was more powerful, but I do not believe so, Harry was, but Dumbledore was not. But that’s farther back in the story, right now we’re speaking of my parents.

At the time of Lord Voldemort’s rise my parents where thinking of having a child, to raise a family. To have a living heir should they both reach there demise in the war, not that either of them really thought that this was ever, and I mean EVER going to happen. But they did plan for a child. It was a truly spectacular day in the Malfoy, and black families the day my mother announced that she was going to have a child. They two families had a large party, or so I am told, that went on long into the night. After all this child was the golden child, the child of both the Malfoy and Black bloodlines.

It was a particularly hard nine months for my mother, being that she was both a death eater and going through the pains of bearing a child. But my mother is strong and after nine excruciating months on June 5, 1980 she gave birth to a 7.6 pound baby boy named, Draco Lucius Malfoy, or as you all know, me. And if you thought the day of the announcement was a day for celebration, then the announcement that I was born was even more of a cause to celebrate. For you see, despite the fact that there was a war going on, and that everyone in Dumbledore’s circle was cowering for their lives….those people on Voldemort’s side felt they had nothing to worry about and they could celebrate without a care to the world. This may have been one of the last times they could celebrate so freely for some time to come but at least it was a time to celebrate and celebrate they did.

Authors Notes:
I finally added up the prologue in editted form as well as the editted version of chapter 1. Hope you enjoy ^.^

Will be used for chapter 2.

Will be used for chapter 3