PROLOGUE
"At the precise moment that a child first exhibits signs of magic, the Quill, which is believed to have been taken from an Augurey, floats up out of its inkpot and attempts to inscribe the name of that child upon the pages of a Book."
This story starts where most things do, at the beginning.
The first time I showed any signs of magic.
Two years old, dressed in a funny-looking green frock coat that clung uncomfortably to my underarms.
My mother walked the parterre in an outdated black dress. I was held against her hip whilst she paced the outskirts of the grounds.
It was that time of the year for her. The time when she spent long hours observing the dirt for any signs of freshly sprouted seedlings.
I, on the other hand, was looking elsewhere, hardly interested in her prolonged stride.
Why would I have been? I was a toddler so accustom to grandeur and getting what I wanted.
Garden flowers were extremely under-stimulating for me — at least the kinds that didn't bite or spit venom.
The grounds of Malfoy Manor were supposedly infamous for their perfection. In Summer, it was a beauty one could compare to the Garden of Eden. Razor-sharp in every cut angle as if perfected by the tiniest of scissors.
Apple trees, pear trees, enchanted bushes that produced dragon fruit at all hours of the day...
Today, it was still winter. The occasional blackbird squawked in the trees. The rustling of wind-swept leaves could be heard for miles around rural Wiltshire.
I would've rather been inside, playing with one of my endlessly expensive toys. I had dragon toys that flew over my head, or real knight action-figures that could decapitate one another. I even had a cupboard set up like a miniature potions classroom where I could brew little fruit juices that made me hiccup floral scented bubbles.
Instead, I was here.
"Look, Draco!"
The yards of soil were silent with the sleep of plants out of season.
Mother stopped abruptly before crouching, her arm around my waist to stop me from falling.
She pointed her index finger towards what was - at first glance - merely a large patch of rain-soaked grass.
And then, I saw it.
Emerging from above the dark green were a few freshly blooming white flowers.
"Snowdrops!" She pronounced each syllable with exuberance, beaming with all the excessive radiance of a woman who had quite literally nothing else to do with her life.
I blinked at them and extended my small hands with an eagerness to grab one. A tendency I'd formed as throughout the first two years of my life.
"Don't touch!" She scolded. Before my fingers could meet the little white petals, I was whisked out of the way.
After the year prior, when I somehow had managed to behead all her tulips, I was never allowed near her flowers unattended.
"Beheading things? Just like his father," My father had laughed. He'd patted me on the shoulder, claiming it was only a sign of what was to come.
My mother, however, didn't find it too humorous. They were warded now. If I'd laid a finger on them I'd have been gently levitated all the way back to the living room.
"I can't believe they're already blooming! It's early into February!" She spoke – Mostly to herself.
I still didn't understand the concept of time. All I knew was it was cold outside, and mother was forcing me to look at flowers that I wasn't even allowed to touch...
And that was when my face crumpled. From my mouth came wails of despair that echoed throughout the manor grounds, just like the squawking birds above us.
My mother had tried to cheer me up by conjuring a grey woolly hat to sit upon my little blonde head, but I wasn't having any of it. My red cheeks were streaked with running tears, that gathered under my chin and splotched onto my ridiculously expensive coat.
Nothing seemed to get me to calm down.
Mother was on the edge of tearing her own hair out trying to figure out something that would keep me at bay.
"How on earth did that nanny manage?" She murmured to herself. I was still crying, demanding she brought me inside.
Despite every bone in her body probably wishing she could – she couldn't leave me unattended. Not in a house full of an unreasonable amount of expensive Chinese porcelain.
Of course, all of this wouldn't have been an issue if they hadn't fired the last nanny.
Father was very particular, and mother—
Her family history with nannies seemed to frighten away all those interested.
Druella Black had supposedly used the cruciatus curse on theirs when mother was only seven years old. All because her expensive jewellery had been stolen from her collection one summer. (It took about five bouts of the curse for her to realise it hadn't been the nanny at all, but Bellatrix who'd hidden it under her pillow.)
Our last Malfoy nanny — a half-blood called Claudia whose father was bitten by a werewolf — was fired after my father overheard her telling me about Muggle television.
Needless to say, she was sent packing before she could even finish her sentence... Leading to today, the garden, and a woman who was all but tearing her hair out over the child she was supposed to have some sort of control over.
Narcissa never thought herself a good mother.
How could she? When she had only the influence of Druella Black to base it off of?
I'd argue my mother was the best. But then again, I don't have anything to base it off either.
Instead of continuing to hold onto her – now thrashing – child, she put me down on the cobblestone path.
"Just play," She commanded, smiling with an attempted sincereness. She knew she'd just about lose it if she continued to hold onto me. I watched her quickly walk away, eyes big and tearful.
And then — well, no one knows what quite happened next.
I was too young to remember, but based on what my mother recounted, by the time she turned around again, I'd vanished into thin air.
"DRACO! DRACO!"
A mother without her child is reminiscent of the cries of a wounded fox.
If anyone was in the vicinity, they probably would've looked around in bewilderment. For, echoing across the grounds were now the yells of a young woman in a lot of distress.
She ran in from the garden and searched the house from top to bottom. All the empty rooms, under the beds, behind the shower curtains, in the cupboards, in the library, behind the boxes in the loft, and even in the basement.
Yet somehow, the small boy was, seemingly, nowhere to be seen...
Aunt Bella stepped out of the green flame, amusement clear as her eyes set on her frantic sister.
"He can't have gone that far," She reasoned. My mother paced the living room, chewing on her expensive nails as she laid down all the possibilities for my whereabouts.
Had I been hurt? Stolen for ransom?
"Oh I'm such a horrid mother — couldn't even calm down my own son! — What if someone took him? An enemy of his father's? — I was being so selfish!"
Bellatrix, on the other hand, rolled her eyes: "Merlin, woman, how many wards on this place? He's simply hiding. And I will find him!"
She marched up the stairs and began her search. And it wasn't long until she was in the attic, flicking her wand at some boxes until her eyes coincidentally drifted over the window.
And that's when Bellatrix found little Draco. Sat on the top of the manor, in my empty palm, a single plucked flower.
"Cissy!"
The only window that had access to the rooftop was locked, which caused a little annoyance, but soon enough, Bellatrix was standing over me, a smile on her face as I offered her the snowdrop I'd somehow stolen from the garden.
"Well done, little viper!"
Believe it or not, she was a lot less scary back then.
Before Azkaban could age her into an unrecognisable mad woman.
Although her fingerless gloves masked her dark mark, she still smiled with all the beauty of a woman who had not a care in the world.
Her hair still shined, her curls tamed by expensive shampoos. Even her smile was glistening and bright.
She leaned down and grabbed the flower, twirling it in front of her face.
With a thudding crack, Narcissa Malfoy apparated onto the roof, running forward and scooping me up in her arms as quickly as she could.
"Bad boy!" She scolded, using her finger to brush the hair out of my eyes.
Secretly, she was more probably relieved than mad, "How did he even get up here?"
Bellatrix's eyes flicked towards the window. Her arm extended, the flower still resting between her index finger and thumb.
And then she uttered it; a smile etched on her face.
The word that would shape my future forever.
"Magic."