Ambition and Super-Bodied Individuals
Draco Lucius Abraxas Leroy Malfoy was handsome, and he knew it. He had that irresistible combination of fortuitous genes and impeccable upkeep. This trait of his person could be attributed to his parents, who were both—if Draco did say so himself—gorgeous. His mum especially, but his father in particular.
He was also smart. Very smart. Second only to Granger, that insufferable know-it-all. He’d gotten all A*s in his GCSEs and been predicted all As in his A levels. It helped, he supposed, that he also worked extremely hard—regularly making sure that his notes were up to date and revising efficiently and thoroughly weeks before an exam. Of course, no one knew that Draco near killed himself during exam season. Over the years, Draco had painstakingly created a very meticulous image of effortless perfection.
Draco was also an arsehole. But he was a charming arsehole. So charming, in fact, that most people who knew him thought that his arsieness was simply part of his wit. Which, to an extent, was true. To a larger extent, Draco simply didn’t have the patience to weather fools.
Most of all, though, Draco was ambitious. He knew he was going places. He knew he was meant for something bigger, something greater. Draco had known, from the day he’d learnt how to formulate thought, that he was made for greatness. His reputation in school was that of a prince, but Draco knew he wasn’t a prince. His middle name was ‘Leroy,’—a French derivative of Le Roy, or ‘The King,’—for fuck’s sake. Draco had dreams, big dreams, dreams so large that it was a wonder they could fit inside his mind.
Approaching the end of his final year in school, Draco was closer to his future than he had ever been before. His life was just about to begin. His dreams lay just out of reach, so close that Draco could almost taste them.
Draco had plans. He had plans to change the world. He had plans to build a society without oppression, without suffering. He had plans to end conflict built upon political gain. He had plans to end hunger, to end poverty. He had plans, he had plans, he had plans. His best friend Pansy regularly made fun of his plans, calling them juvenile, calling them uncharacteristically idealistic. But Pansy was a bitch, so Draco mostly ignored her. Draco, you see, had plans.
But to carry out those plans, he needed power. He needed power and he needed it soon. He needed, also, knowledge, but knowledge was a progressive pursuit. The grasping of power, in a similar but crucially different way, had to be premeditated. Seeds had to be sown long before the fruits could be reaped.
This was something Draco had realised in his early teens, when his ambition had solidified into something clearer. Even before then, though—when he was younger and his desire for something more was only vaguely understood by even himself—he’d known he’d need power, sometime, somehow.
It made sense, then, why Draco’s first thought the moment after he’d realised the superpowers he possessed weren’t exactly—normal, had been world domination.
On his fifth birthday, Draco's parents had sat him down on the couch in their smaller drawing room and had explained. Or had tried to. It took them a while to begin, it was a complicated issue after all. Eventually, his mum had given his father a withering look and had said, simply: “Draco, darling, you know how you can move things without touching them?”
Draco had smiled at her, “Yeesssss…”
“And you know how Father can change how he looks?”
“Yess…”
“And how Mummy can yell really, really loudly?”
Draco scrunched his face in confusion. He wondered where all this was going. “Yes?”
“Well,” said Narcissa Malfoy, Draco’s beautiful mother, “Other people can’t do that.”
“What?”
“Not ‘what,’ darling, ‘pardon me,’”
Draco corrected: “Pardon me?”
“Most people can’t move things without touching them, or change how they look, or break the sound barrier with their voice,”
“What’s a sound barrier?”
“It’s the aerodynamic dra— nevermind, sweetheart, it doesn’t matter,” Narcissa had said, stroking his head comfortingly, “Just remember to never tell anyone that you can move things with your thoughts.”
“Okay, Mummy.”
Summer melted into Autumn, and then crumpled into Winter. Spring brought with it harsh winds and then with the re-emergence of the sun, came Summer again. Like this, at a snail’s pace, time passed.
The first time Draco unknowingly hypnotised someone came as a shock. To his parents, that is. Oh, and also Pansy—who’d had the pleasure of being the person he’d hypnotised unwittingly.
“Draco?” His mum had asked, smiling in that way which meant that Draco was going to get all his sweets taken away forever and ever till the end of time itself.
“Mummy?” Draco had returned, widening his eyes innocently and appearing every bit a precious gift to mankind.
“Why does Pansy think that she’s a dog?”
“We’re playing house, Mummy,” Draco had explained, from his shaded seat in the garden.
“I see. Pansy chose to be the dog?”
“Well, no, Pansy wanted to be the Mum and she wanted me to be the Dad but I didn’t want to marry her because her nose looks like a pig and I don’t want my babies to have pig noses,” Draco shook his head, pausing for a while and imagining that gruesome reality, “pig noses—no, no,” he shuddered, “Anyway, I convinced her to be the dog.”
“You convinced her to be the dog.” Narcissa repeated.
“Yes, exactly.”
“And what, pray tell, did you say to her to convince her?”
“I said: ‘Pansy, you’re going to be the dog,’ and she made this really daft face and started barking.”
“I see.” Narcissa stared at Draco. “And how long ago did you tell her this?”
“About an hour after she arrived, maybe?”
Narcissa stared at Draco some more. “And she’s just been playing the dog this entire time.”
Pansy had arrived five hours ago. “Yes?”
Narcissa looked over at Pansy, who was currently chasing after her own butt. Then, Narcissa looked back at Draco, “And what, exactly, are you meant to be?”
Draco turned his nose up smugly from the children’s book he’d been reading, “I’m a ne’er-do-well who’s allergic to dogs. Obviously.” Perhaps, that last part had been unnecessary.
Narcissa smiled again. Draco approximated that he was in the most trouble he’d ever been in his entire life.
“Obviously.” Narcissa repeated. “Draco?”
“Yes, Mummy?” Draco tried tilting his head. It didn’t work.
“Tell Pansy that she doesn’t have to play the dog anymore, and then get in the car—we’re going on a trip.” Narcissa turned to leave, “Oh, and Draco?”
“Yes, Mummy?” Draco asked, feeling a deep sense of foreboding.
“You’re grounded.”
Telling Pansy that she didn’t have to play the dog anymore didn’t have much of an effect, so Draco tied a piece of string to her ponytail and used that as a leash to bring her to the car. Narcissa glanced at them as they entered the backseat and rubbed her forehead, muttering something about advil or whatever.
The chauffeur drove them out of their residence—the view outside Draco’s window melting from elegant architecture to what seemed like endless green foliage. And then, eventually, with Draco lulled to near sleep by the low vibrations of the engine, the greenery melted into cement and glass and metal. They were in the city, and it was sprawling, decadent, and loud. Just like that, Draco fell in love.
He pressed his face to the window and watched his surroundings with wide eyes. Everything was a novelty. It was like a collage come to life. Tall skyscrapers on this end, a row of smaller establishments on that. Despite the congestion on the road, vehicles continued to move forward seamlessly. Crossing the street, walking on the sidewalks, entering buildings, there were people everywhere, and every single one of them seemed to carry a story within themselves.
“Woah,” said Draco, against the glass. Next to him, Pansy barked and licked his cheek. “That’s disgusting, Pansy.” Draco scowled, rubbing his cheek, “Bad dog.”
Their car stopped in front of a short, wide building.
“We’ve arrived, Madam.”
Narcissa peered out of her window, “Indeed. Follow me Draco, and don’t let go of Pansy’s leash.”
Draco opened the car door and slid out with Pansy’s leash in hand. Pansy leapt out of the car and began walking on the sidewalk as a dog would. Draco stared at her.
“...What’s wrong with Pansy, Mummy?” Draco asked, all of a sudden realising that their game had gone on for far longer than Pansy would have usually tolerated.
Narcissa looked at her son, “That, my darling, is what we’re here to find out.”
As Narcissa rang the doorbell, she said to her son, “Draco, I expect you to be on your best behaviour.”
“Of course, Mummy,” Draco replied automatically.
“...Just a second!” Came a voice from inside the apartment. Then, a quieter but nonetheless prosaic “Oh fuck!” accompanied the sound of a loud bang. “Padfoot, no!” the voice shouted, getting closer. “You stupid, fucking piece of utter shit, I fucking told you—” there was the sound of a muffled thud and more swearing. “Hang on, out there!” The voice yelled, sounding incredibly strained. More sounds, littered with barking. Draco looked at the door in distaste—he didn’t like dogs. The door swung open. “Sorry about that,” said the voice. Draco got a brief glance of mousy curls and freckles, “My dog’s a— Cissa!” The man’s eyes widened, and Draco saw the loveliest glimpse of amber in the second before the man moved forward and embraced his mother.
Draco noticed—with mild interest—that the man was really very tall. And then, Draco noticed—with extreme surprise—that his mother was hugging the man back.
“It’s good to see you, Remus,” she murmured.
Draco came to a horrible, dawning realisation. “Mummy,” he said, his voice shaking, “You’re having an affair.”
The dog inside the apartment growled.
Draco felt tears begin to gather in his eyes, “You’re having an affair with a strange tall man who has an ugly black dog and now I’m going to have to live with an ugly black dog because you’re going to live with an ugly black dog and I hate dogs and Pansy’s a dog now and Pansy is a little bit annoying and I really don’t like her nose but I do like her sometimes except that doesn’t matter because you’re engaging in infidelity!” Draco wailed, loudly.
The tall man disengaged himself from Draco’s mother and looked down at Draco. If Draco’s face wasn’t covered in a rather offensive agglomeration of bodily fluids, he might have noticed that the man looked extremely surprised. As it was, all Draco noticed, through the warping effect of his tears, was that the tall man was looming over him.
“I don’t want a new father!” Draco sobbed, “This man is too tall and his dog is too ugly and I don’t want to live with that dog!”
Narcissa crossed her arms in front of her chest and raised an eyebrow, “You could always stay with your father.”
“You’re abandoning me!” Draco howled, his chest heaving, “You’re abandoning your only child even though I love you more than Father and even though I’m beautiful and well-mannered and I—I eat all my carrots, Mummy!” Draco flung himself down on the floor. Pansy whimpered and licked his face. “And Pansy keeps licking my face and oh my god that’s so unhygienic I’m going to throw up and everything is horrid!” Draco took a large, shuddering gasp and threw himself, face down, on the floor.
“Jesus.” Draco heard the tall man mutter.
“Remus,” said Narcissa, dryly, “Meet Draco—the last time you saw him he was in diapers.” Narcissa pinched the bridge of her nose, “He is the light of my life and my only child. He is beautiful and sometimes well-mannered and he is especially good at pretending to eat his carrots and later throwing them out of his bedroom window. The little girl on all fours beside him is his only friend, Pansy.” Narcissa looked at Pansy. She continued, in monotone, “Currently, Pansy believes that she is a dog. As you may be able to tell, there has been a bit of an incident.”
“Jesus,” The tall man repeated, laughing a little.
“Draco.” Narcissa called. “Are you quite done.”
Draco didn’t respond. Pansy dug her pig-nose under Draco’s shirt.
Narcissa said: “I wonder how many germs are on the floor that you’re currently lying on.”
And Draco jumped up. He looked at his mother sorrowfully. She was smiling. Draco felt a chill go down his spine.
“Cissa,” the tall man said, placing his hand on her shoulder, “He’s scared and tired.” Narcissa’s smile remained as icy as ever, the tall man continued, “And he just admitted to loving you more than Lucius.”
Narcissa’s face melted a fraction. She inhaled a lungful of air. “There was absolutely no need to shout. That was a very appalling way to behave.” She said to Draco, her voice hard, “But I still love you. You must promise that you won’t ever behave this way again.” Narcissa held out her left hand, her pinky extended.
Draco pouted. After a while, he nodded and extended his own pinky, curling it around his mum’s.
Narcissa nodded back at Draco. Her eyes softened another fraction and she leant down to kiss Draco on the cheek, wiping his tears away with the sleeve of her shirt.
“Mummy’s not having an affair.” She said.
Draco exhaled a breath of relief. Thank god. That tall man’s dog was the ugliest, most abhorrent thing Draco had ever seen.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Draco. And you too, Pansy.” The tall man smiled, kneeling on the floor so that his face was level with Draco’s. He patted Pansy’s head. Pansy yipped and nuzzled into the touch. Draco noticed that the tall man had a thin scar across his nose, and another interrupting his left eyebrow. “My name is Remus.” he said, “Cissa—your mum—is like a sister to me.”
Draco corrected his initial impression of Remus’s hair. It wasn’t mousy at all, the curls were outlined with burnished gold. Remus held out a hand for Draco to shake. Draco sniffed and complied. Feeling a tad flustered, Draco observed that Remus had dimples. Then, Remus stood up and held the door to his apartment open, gesturing inwards and giving Draco, Narcissa and Pansy a cue to enter.
“Beauty before freckles.” Remus grinned.
“...And that brings us back to the present.” Narcissa finished, leaning back on Remus’s sofa and stroking Pansy’s head in her lap.
While his mum and Remus were involved in the retelling of the day’s events, Draco sat sipping his chocolate milk and eyeing Remus’s disdainful black dog. It was very large. Draco swore it was staring back at Draco with equally contemptuous eyes. There was something very off about that dog. It was unbelievably creepy. Draco sipped his chocolate milk and narrowed his eyes. The dog—'Padfoot,’ Remus had introduced—bared his teeth.
“Here’s your tea, Cissa.” Remus said, passing Narcissa a cup filled with dark brown liquid, and then placing the tray—which Draco noticed held two tea cups—on the coffee table.
Draco was just beginning to open his mouth to explain that he didn’t want tea and much preferred his chocolate milk when Remus sat next to Narcissa and said, “What a day,” with a sympathetic smile. Dimples, thought Draco—the speech on his tongue evaporating.
Narcissa sighed. “And to top it all off, Lucius is on a fucking business trip— Draco, you did not hear that.” Narcissa narrowed her eyes at Draco.
Draco grinned, “Hear what?”
Remus looked between them, “It’s like looking at a mini-you,” he said, to Narcissa.
“He is my blessing and my curse.” Narcissa replied.
Draco grinned wider. His mother loved him very much.
“Anyway—I think Draco has two powers,” Narcissa continued to Remus.
“It’s not impossible.” Remus replied, taking a sip out of his own tea cup.
“It’s uncommon.” Narcissa returned.
“But not impossible. I have two powers.”
“One of them is acquired. You were born with one.”
Remus shrugged, “James and Lily’s son has two powers.”
Narcissa frowned. After a while she said, carefully, “I don’t—know the nature of Draco’s new power.”
“It sounds novel.” Remus agreed.
Narcissa looked down at her lap, at Pansy’s sleeping face. “I fear that its effects are permanent.”
Remus patted her hand consolingly, “Nothing’s ever permanent, Cissa.”
“We can only hope,” Narcissa sighed. “Do you mind analysing Draco?”
“You never have to ask,” Remus said. He turned to face Draco, and moved to create space in between him and Narcissa.
“Come here, darling.” Narcissa said.
Draco stood and sat in the new space between Remus and his mum.
“Remus is going to use his powers on you,” Narcissa clarified. “It won’t hurt, but it will feel a bit strange.” Narcissa explained, “We’re doing this so that we know what exactly you did to Pansy and how exactly we can reverse it. Is that okay?”
Draco nodded. He turned to Remus. “You may begin.”
Remus laughed softly—“Why, thank you.”—and took hold of Draco’s hands, closing his eyes.
A faint light began to emanate from their joint hands and Draco suddenly felt very odd indeed. As if his consciousness had expanded to encompass more than simply his body. As if all his senses were stimulated at the same time. As if he was hollow, but not hollow exactly, more like—he didn’t have a vessel. And just as soon as it began, it ended.
Remus opened his eyes. He looked at Draco with an indecipherable expression. “Oh.” he mumbled, beginning to frown as he reached out to ruffle Draco’s hair.
Draco was a bit freaked out by Remus’s reaction. That being said, Draco was also really comfortable with Remus’s hand on his head. Draco realised, vaguely, that Remus was really rather handsome, and that he had the kindest, warmest eyes Draco had ever seen. Draco began to blush—his brain refusing to feel more than one emotion at the same time.
“Remus.” Said Narcissa, stricken, pale faced, “What is it?”
Remus looked at Narcissa. “Your speculation was right. He does have two powers.” Remus frowned, “One of them allows him to move objects with his thoughts, and the other,” Remus hesitated, “the other allows him to grasp someone’s mind and bend it to his will.”
Draco gaped at Remus. “That,” he breathed, “Is awesome.”
“Shut up Draco.” Narcissa looked even paler than before. Muttering, she repeated, “shut up, shut up.” She asked Remus, “Mind control?”
Remus shook his head, “Nothing that concrete. It’s closer to a glamour power, kind of. Well, not really, I guess. Maybe something like hypnotism? Without the whole ‘look into my eyes,’ thing.” Remus took a sip of his tea, “He can’t control anyone’s thoughts or actions, but he can command them to behave in a certain way. How exactly they fulfill his command is up to them.”
Narcissa took a deep breath. “And the caveats?”
“Aside from the general ones common to powers such as this, he has to maintain skin-to-skin contact when he’s commanding the person,” Narcissa winced. Draco rather thought she was overreacting. This power sounded brilliant to him. “And anyone with a particularly strong mind will be able to overturn the command. In the same way, the power might not work at all on some people. That being said, the extent of this power is indefinite.”
Draco beamed. He was so caught up in the heady feeling that came with being awesome, that he didn’t notice Narcissa wince and Remus offer her a consoling hand squeeze.
After a short while, Narcissa asked, “He can rescind his commands?”
Remus nodded, “From what I’ve seen, yes. He’ll have to learn how to control his power, though.”
Narcissa nodded briskly. “Did you hear that, Draco?”
“Yes, Mummy,” Draco replied.
Narcissa shook Pansy awake, “Let's see you turn Pansy back into a human again,”
Pansy awoke bleary-eyed and yipped lightly when she saw Narcissa’s face. When she felt Draco’s hands on her arm she turned and barked loudly, jumping at Draco and attempting to lick his face. Draco held her shoulders resolutely away from his body.
“Pansy, you are a human.” He said, staring deeply into her eyes.
Pansy blinked. And then she barked and licked Draco’s arm.
“Ewwwwwwww, Pansy! Stop it!” Draco cried.
“Try again.” Narcissa said.
“Pansy,” Draco said, imperiously, “You are a human.”
Pansy barked in glee.
“Mummy, it’s not working.” Draco observed, beginning to freak out just a little bit.
“Close your eyes and try focusing on your power-core,” Remus advised.
“What,” Draco said.
“Draco.” clipped Narcissa.
“Pardon me.” Draco amended, in monotone. “What are you on about.”
Remus laughed, “Okay, uh, pass me that tin of biscuits on the table using your powers.”
Draco looked at Remus incredulously but did as he asked.
“Did you feel something shift inside of you when you did that?” Remus asked.
“No.” Draco replied. Remus was lucky he was pretty.
“Right, okay, focus on moving this tin of biscuits back to the table using your mind. Don’t think about anything else.”
“Remus.” Draco said, in awe, “What is wrong with you.”
The ugly black dog snarled.
“Draco.” Narcissa hissed.
“What? We’re in the middle of a crisis and he wants me to move around biscuits.” Draco rolled his eyes.
Remus laughed, a bit startled, “Jesus, you really are just like your mum.”
“Remus.” Narcissa grit out.
“What?” Draco demanded, affronted by the idea that his mother found offence in being compared to him.
Remus laughed again. It was a nice sound.
“I’m asking you to do this so that you can identify your power-core,” Remus explained, smiling fondly, “it’ll help you control your powers better so that you can turn poor Pansy back into a human.”
Draco rather liked Remus smiling fondly at him. It occurred to Draco, suddenly, that he probably had a crush on Remus.
“How old are you.” Draco asked, eyeing Remus.
The ugly black dog barked loudly, all of a sudden greatly agitated.
“Draco.” Narcissa said, calmly. (This meant that Draco was in insurmountable amounts of trouble.)
“God, okay, no need to be dramatic,” Draco said, and then upon seeing the look his mother shot him, added rapidly, “Mother. My lovely mother. Apologies. I am distraught.”
Without further preamble—and also because Narcissa’s glower was beginning to give him goosebumps—Draco took a deep breath and stared intensely at the biscuit tin in Remus’s hands. This time, as he was moving it back to the table, he felt something stir, indistinctly, in his chest.
“Yes, that’s it.” Remus encouraged. Draco noticed that he’d subconsciously moved his hand to cover the feeling in his chest.
Focusing on the stirring, Draco made the biscuit tin do loops in the air. He accidentally on purpose hit the ugly black dog on the head. The ugly black dog growled loudly, the hair on its neck rising.
“I think I’ve got it.” Draco announced, putting the biscuit tin back on the table and ignoring the stupid mutt’s nonsensical noises.
“Just get on with it, Draco.” Narcissa sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She did that a lot when she spent extended periods of time alone with Draco.
“Pansy.” Draco commanded, extending his palm face up towards her, “Hand.” Pansy barked cheerfully and put her right hand in Draco’s extended palm. Draco looked at Pansy and—focusing on the area where he’d felt the fluttering in his chest—said, “You are a human.”
For a second, Pansy was still. And then she sneezed in Draco’s face.
“Pansy!” Draco shrieked, feeling something inside him die.
Pansy barked and licked Draco’s cheek.
“Ewwwwwwwwwwwww!!!!!!!” Draco cried, and then he realised, “Pansy.” He repeated, firmly, feeling disgusting but pretending that everything was right in the world, “You are a human.”
Pansy barked. Narcissa cussed in French.
“You.” Draco hollered, “Are a human. You are a human, you are a human.” Draco closed his eyes and focused on a vague fluttering in his chest, as if from below a sheet of ice. “Pansy Prudence Parkinson, you are a human, you are not a dog.” The fluttering grew stronger, Draco opened his eyes. “Pansy,” he said, staring into her eyes, “You are a human.”
There was a tense moment of silence. Pansy opened her mouth. Draco feared she would bark.
But then: “Draco?”
“Pansy!” Draco exclaimed, relief flooding through him.
“Wh— Where are we?” Pansy stuttered, looking around with wide eyes.
“We’re in Remus’s house.” Draco said, all of a sudden hit with a strong wave of exhaustion.
“Wha— Who’s Remus?” Pansy asked, frightened, looking like she was about to cry.
“Remus is the tall man sitting next to me. We came to him because I accidentally hypnotised you." Words spilt out of Draco's mouth like water, "You've just spent the last six hours believing that you're a dog. You licked my face multiple times and it was very disgusting. You also tried to pee in Mummy’s flower patch, but I told you ‘No’ so you didn’t. Oh, by the way, I have superpowers and can move things with my mind and also apparently hypnotise people. Also, I think I have a crush on Remus, so I can’t play house with you anymore.”
Pansy burst into tears. Narcissa slapped her forehead. People were so dramatic sometimes, honestly.
The ugly black dog barked loudly several times and jumped into Remus’s lap. Remus's eyebrows shot up.
“I, uh—down, Padfoot—thank you, Draco, but I’m afraid I’m too old for you.” Remus said, eventually.
“How old are you?” Draco asked, undeterred.
“Er, twenty-seven,” Remus replied, glancing at Narcissa and looking even more confused than before.
“A twenty year age gap...” Draco thought for a while. “We’ll have to work through our differences but I have faith that we’ll get through them.”
“I’m sorry, Remus.” Narcissa said, utterly defeated, cradling a sobbing Pansy in her lap.
Remus took a deep breath. “I’m flattered Draco, but there’s just—Padfoot, no—it’s just—Padfoot, Padfoot! Sirius!—it’s not you, it’s just that you’re a little baby and that is so very wrong on so many different levels—”
“We’ll wait until I’m eighteen to pursue our relationship, of course.” Draco stated, simply.
“I’ll be ancient by then! Imagine the wrinkles!” Remus tried.
“It’s okay, I think you’re very handsome and I think that age will just make you more refined.” Draco said.
Remus looked at him, speechless. “That—wow.”
Draco took that as a good sign. He grinned. “By then, your ugly dog will be dead as well. It’s perfect.”
Remus began to laugh helplessly, “Oh my god.”
“I make you laugh. This is a good sign.” Draco announced.
“Look—No,” Remus tried again, “Okay, uhm, how do I say this—Sirius, stop it. He’s a child—uh, I’m in a relationship right now.”
“You’ll break up by the time I’m eighteen.” Draco said, with conviction.
“Well,” Remus began, carefully, “We’re engaged.” Then, blushing, in an incredibly soft voice, “And I love him very, very much.” Remus stroked Padfoot’s head and smiled apologetically at Draco, “I’m sorry Draco, but I can’t reciprocate your feelings. He's the love of my life. You'll find the love of your life someday, too.”
Draco crossed his arms. “You’re in the honeymoon phase right now. It won’t last.”
Remus sighed, “Draco—” Remus’s ugly dog made a move to bite Draco, “Sirius, for fu— god’s sake.”
Draco eyed the dog contemptuously. “Your dog is very ugly.”
The dog bristled, its standing hair giving the appearance that it had just grown—except, wait—it had just grown—Oh my god, thought Draco, in horror, It’s growing—and not just growing, it was changing shape—losing hair—elongating—until, staring contemptuously down at Draco, still on Remus’s lap, sat a black haired man. “Woof.” He said.
Draco shrieked. “It’s a vagabond!”
“Aaah.” mimicked the man-dog, unkindly, “It’s a brat.”
“Mummy! Mummy!” Draco squawked, moving backwards, his heart on his tongue, “Remus’s ugly dog turned into an even uglier scoundrel!”
“I see the brat is also blind.” the man-dog commented.
“Did you really have to, Sirius.” Remus asked—Draco noted with glee—disapprovingly.
“He was trying to steal you away from me, so yes, Moony, I had to.”
Several very shocking truths hit Draco on the head. “You chose a dog over me?!”
Remus ran a hand over his face. “Why is this happening.”
Narcissa eyed the man-dog coolly, “Sirius.”
The man-dog eyed her back, and then said, with a smirk, “Wotcher, Cousin.”
Draco stilled. “No.”
The man-dog turned his smirk on Draco, “It’s nice to meet you, Nephew.”
Draco repeated. “No.”
“Unfortunately,” sighed Narcissa, “Yes.”
“He has tattoos,” hushed Draco, still in denial, “and piercings.”
“Well, you look like a ferret.” The man-dog remarked. “Genetics makes fools of us all.”
Draco gaped at the man-dog. The man-dog narrowed his eyes back.
“Sirius.” said Remus, “He’s a child.”
“You’re a fool, Remus. He has the devil in his eyes.”
Draco’s mouth fell open.
Narcissa sighed, “Grow up, Sirius.”
“Shut up, Cissa.” The man-dog said, “You knew this would happen.”
Narcissa began to massage her temples. “Get out.”
The man-dog scoffed. “Fuck you.”
“Sirius.” Remus said, gently.
The man-dog pouted and got off the sofa. Draco stared at him.
“Take Draco and Pansy with you.” Narcissa said. Draco looked at her, trying to convey how extremely betrayed he felt.
“Fuck you.” repeated the man-dog.
“Sirius.” Remus said, softly.
The man-dog huffed and picked up Pansy—still sniffling and in shock—in his arms. He held out a hand for Draco to hold.
Draco looked at it incredulously. “Have you ever washed your hands.”
The man-dog grabbed Draco and pulled him up. “Nope.”
Draco screamed.
They ate ice-cream on the side-walk, and Sirius turned out to be a little bit okay. Obviously, he was still Draco’s rival in love. But he was okay, a little bit.
“I’m not calling you Uncle.” Draco announced, licking his strawberry ice cream.
“Thank fuck.” Sirius responded.
Pansy giggled, “That’s rude, Sirius.”
“What’s rude? The ‘Fuck’? Or the ‘Thank’? I think you’re talking about the ‘Thank’.”
Pansy laughed. “No, silly, I’m talking about the F-word.”
“Fatalism.” Sirius nodded.
Draco scowled at Sirius. “Why does Remus even like you.”
Sirius preened. “I’m perfect.”
“That is very obviously not true.” Draco said. Pansy nodded.
“Shut up, you tiny dragon. I’m perfect for him. And I love him. So there. You just got your heart broken. It sucks to suck.”
Draco moped into his ice cream.
When Sirius finally deemed enough time had passed, he brought them back upstairs. They stood outside the door while Sirius fumbled around for his keys.
From inside, Draco heard the sound of a quiet sob. “I wanted him to have a normal life.”
And then a soft, “I know.”
“He can’t now. He can’t—”
Sirius knocked a few times to announce his presence before beginning to unlock the door. The voices inside hushed. Sirius looked down at Draco and Pansy and put a finger to his lips.
“It’s best sometimes to pretend that you haven’t heard anything.” He said, simply.
So that’s what Draco did. For the life of him, though, Draco couldn’t understand the appeal of normal. Why choose normal, when you could have remarkable instead? Why settle for small, when you could go big?
And so, Draco declared, as he burst into the apartment, “I’m going to take over the world one day—”
Sirius muttered behind him, “God help us all.”
“—and then I’m going to propose to Remus.” Draco continued.
Sirius’s jaw fell open. “What did you just say, you little—”
Draco hadn’t understood what it had meant, back then. World domination, that is. It had been a juvenile desire, fuelled partly by the emotions of his first love.
But as the feelings of a crush had melted into simple adoration, the ambition had persisted. Because that’s simply who Draco was. He was meant for greatness, and he knew it.
And as he grew, as he became increasingly more aware of the political intricacies of the world around him, as he found himself irritated, endlessly, by aimless, weak and selfish politicians, he began to make plans.
But to carry out the plans that he wanted to carry out, he needed power. Sheer will couldn’t end wars. One needed political leverage, one needed the ability to make a change.
And as such came to be his life as a super-bodied individual. Emphasis on ‘super-bodied individual’, not ‘super-villain’ (as the media was so opt to call him). Honestly, it had started out innocent enough. Well, innocent enough by Draco’s standards, so really, it was only a little bit illegal. And things were going great. His plan was proceeding seamlessly.
And then came Golden-Boy, with his embarrassingly sanctimonious nick-name and his embarrassingly tight pants and his embarrassingly sexy arse. His stupid, stupid obsession with ‘the law’ and ‘the right thing’ and ‘seriously, don’t make me freeze you,’ and all of a sudden, Draco found his plans foiled time and time again. And then time and time again, once more. It was extremely excessive. Like, seriously excessive. What the fuck is up with this dude.
Draco Lucius Abraxas Leroy Malfoy was an eighteen year old boy with everything going right for him. Everything, that is, excluding his stupid, fucking superhero nemesis. And then, because of-fucking-course, his stupid-fucking-superhero-nemesis turned out to be the only person capable of stopping that idiot Moldy-Wart or whatever—an idiot who had decided, in a burst of pure malevolence, to carry out his super-idiot plan during the mock season. Like, who the fuck does that?! Draco had exams to ace. He had universities to get into. He had rigorous study timetables to follow. And nothing—not even his deep disdain for Golden-Boy’s obsession with morality and tight pants—could get between Draco and his exams. Suffice to say, Moldy-Wart was going down. Draco just had to suffer through a tentative partnership with Golden-Boy to make it happen.