This was just a random little plot that popped into my head. It's going to take some prodding (and some motivation) to get it out onto here with any semblance of organization, but I suppose I should give it a shot.
This is merely an introduction (666 words - weird, I know), and further chapters, should I choose to continue this, will be longer.
If I do end up continuing, I expect to get anywhere from 20-30 chapters out of it, maybe more (maybe even a sequel!), but I don't want to get too ahead of myself. We may not even progress much past this.
A few warnings: in later chapters, this fic will include slash, lots of drama, and probably a heavy topic or two. Also, this is a creature!fic, so if you're not into that, be my guest and leave.
Oh! And before I let you read this chapter, I'd like to let you know that I am not a huge fan of giving away the whole plot all at once (or even the whole plot at all). This may be confusing, and you will certainly have to read between the lines a bit, but I am a firm believer in readers doing a lot of the story-telling. What would be the fun of reading if you were told every bit of the story?
Draco sat by the window in his room, watching a thick summer storm roll across the hills of the Far Gardens. The Near Gardens and the Peacock Pens had not yet received a drop of rain at all this summer, which wasn't saying much as it was only mid-June, but it was unwelcome just the same. It meant that Narcissa had to tend to her prized roses and lilacs with more care than usual, it meant that Lucius' knees would ache and he would complain incessantly, and worst of all, it meant that Draco was confined to his wing of the estate, watching over his sleeping son and wishing he could venture out and over the ever-expansive grounds.
Just another reason to blame the muggles, Lucius had said. They pollute everything, even the rain.
He'd been mostly kidding, of course; with the marriage of Draco to Astoria Greengrass, Lucius had successfully secured entry into the elite social class once more, but had also sacrificed most of the principles he'd once held dear. The sudden willingness to change was a great surprise to anyone who didn't know the Malfoys personally, however, most of those close to the old family knew that Lucius would do anything in his power to keep their name proud, even if it meant accepting things that had once seemed ludicrous to even consider.
The Greengrasses were known by many as the idyllic purebloods: they were elite, they were entirely pure in their ancestry, but they also had a strong moral background and a low ratio of inbred offspring. The marriage of Draco and Astoria was the bridge between the two worlds, and was seen by most of the upper wizarding community to be the end of the social and political post-war feuds. The wedding was a royal affair, talked about for months before the actual event, and each of the families had to hire representatives to speak for them whilst they planned. It was all they could do to actually put together the marvelous occasion, and after many, "No, really"s and, "Please, let me"s was eventually decided to be funded by the Malfoys and performed at Versailles; anybody who was anybody was going to be there.
Before the wedding, tabloids detailed potential dress choices, flower arrangements, the who's, what's, where's and when's – The Daily Prophet even issued photos of the power couple out doing the most mundane of things, like purchasing trainers and tending to the famous Malfoy Peacocks.
Of course, une fête as grand as a Malfoy-Greengrass union did not disappoint; the wedding gown was beautiful and the bouquets were flawless and the choices for ring-bearer and bond-caster were impeccable. Astoria's younger brother Jayce didn't trip down the aisle, Lucius cast the bonding enchantment without fault; everything was set to go off perfectly.
However, this wouldn't be a story if something didn't go wrong, and The Daily Prophet would've likely stopped writing about it by now if the wedding had gone as planned.
Here, nearly four years following that evening in Paris, Draco was still being talked about, and his life had been irreversibly changed.
The twenty-seven year old narrowed his eyes at the clouds tumbling over the hills at the Far Gardens and begged them to come near, to dump their rain and get on with it, at least to make Lucius stop whining about his knees in the lounge – but the dark storm continued on, beginning to spill over the Silver Lake at the edge of their estate. Draco almost wondered whether he could risk it, whether it would be worth it to take a chance and spread his wings and leave –
but the silver-blond man wrenched his eyes away, tearing his attention back to the quietly sleeping form of his only child, and took a deep breath. He would leave when the sun emerged, when he could think rationally. He would fly his son away from the nightmares of their past, into a place shadowed from the spotlight; Draco would soon escape.
Let me know what you thought of this, please!
French translations for this chapter:
La lune – the moon
Une fête – a party