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Chapter Text

Alceste Abraxas Malfoy was born a year and three days apart from his beloved older brother, Draco Lucius Malfoy, to put that into numbers, he was a fucking July baby, three days after his brother’s birthday on the fifth.

He had to commend his Father for his naming prowess, even if he hadn't quite met him yet, the second son not given nearly as much priority as the first. 

He gave a small, quiet sigh inside his lonely luxury crib that was given all safety precuastions imaginable. He couldn’t even see past the bars because of all the safety padding tied over it!

Of course, just as he was raring up to start crying, Dobby peaked over his crib, shushing him quietly. 

Draco, being one and still drunk off of mommy’s milk, was given Narcissa as a caretaker, meanwhile, he– Dobby stuck the warm bottle in his mouth, cradling his head with as minimal contact as possible, –was given the incompetent houself for a wet nurse.

Don’t get him wrong, he loved Dobby, but this? Fighting the painful acid reflux and gas every day because the damn dude couldn’t even burp him or mix the oats properly? Yeah, that ain’t it. 

He was a goddamn baby! An Infant! He, by all rights mind you, wasn’t at all equipped to deal with this shit! 

It was after the third night of Dobby’s less than stellar care, not that it was lacking in enthusiasm, mind you, Alceste upchucked all over himself, and then nearly drowned on it when Dobby didn’t immediately pick him up. 

Fuck this, he decided, and wailed as loud and sqaullish as humanely possible by infantile standards. 

Which was a lot, he would know, he remembered taking care of his younger siblings. 

Dobby immediately snatched him up and tried to shush him, but Alceste wasn’t having it, screaming his lungs raw until someone who actually knew how to make sure children survived past the first week came running. 

This time, he hit the jackpot. A very pretty man, as far as his shitty baby vision could tell, was stomping in the room. Beyond the sparkly white hair blur that seemed to be a highlighted target to his baby eyes, all he saw were black clothes. 

“Dobby! You miserable, useless, waste of space–” Okay buddy, stopping you right there, only he was able to bully Dobby, thank you very much.

He took a breath, swallowed to clear his throat, and renewed the wailing. The pretty stranger wasted no time in picking him up after that, bouncing him lightly to keep him quiet. 

“–Out of my sight, before I do away with you for good, and hang you on the wall as a decoration, seeing as that’s all you’re good for!” 

Some of those wispy, sparkly strangs tickled his nose, and he tried his absolute best to get the motor skills of his left hand to work in his favor. 

For once, baby grab was in his corner, and the infamous baby grip was reigned down upon the stranger’s hair. He didn’t yank, he didn’t want to be too much of an asshole, considering the guy had just saved him from dying via incompetence, no matter how earnest it had been. 

Blurry vision looked up at the now much closer face, at sharp cheeks and soft skin and the most prettily arched cupid’s bow he’d ever seen. 

Okay, so, maybe he was a bit in love now. 

Baby charm, activate! He cooed, letting go of the hair to try and pet the cheek. He made it almost there before it was grabbed. Steely gray eyes softened, and the hand holding his much tinier one pulled it over to lips, that breathed warm air on them. 

Life is complete, he could die in peace now. 

-

So, it turns out, that man was actually my father , Lucius fucking Malfoy. 

I was pissed! I crushed on him for an entire week before my mother came in the room with his name on her tongue, a snotty, white haired brat that looked just like her on her hip. 

Meeting my brother was overlooked. I was interested in him for maybe two seconds before I turned my attention back to my father, who I hadn’t known at that time was my father, to silently worship his beauty and kindness, waxing poetic in my head about how he deserved the world. 

Okay, so maybe my standards were pretty low if it only took him rubbing a cooling cream on my sore, bleeding bum that had gotten a bad rash from Dobby’s less than stellar ‘clean it and it’s done’ mindset. 

I hadn’t had powder on my bum, and that shit had hurt when Dobby didn’t change it every hour and instead waited six . 

Since that day I was rescued, I’d made sure to act as cute and endearing as possible, it was extremely effective, he had me stuck to him like glue. 

Looking back on Narcissa and Draco in that fateful encounter, and Draco throwing an absolute bitch fit when Dad went to pick him up, I can see why. 

The man was starved for father-son bonding and affection. Must sting when your first born acts like the mere sight of you is the cresting of the plague. 

I gave another dreamy sigh as I looked up at the face of peak beauty while he patted my back and fed me. 

I couldn’t marry him, and he was my Dad, but that didn’t not make him eye candy. 

He whispered softly to me, about stupid magic stories, I only half payed attetnion to, my baby brain was still too new to properly discern words, even if they were in my own language, so I just listened to his smooth voice speak lowly. 

Fuck I had it bad. 

I knew he was going to turn out like Cob from Tales of Earthsea, just without the old man transformation, but it still hurt my soul to look up at that face and try not to fall head over heels all over again. 

Gods, the books and the movies really didn’t do him justice. I could write a whole prose on him and it still wouldn’t hold a candle to the real thing. 

Those eyelashes, goddamn. 

Narcissa was one smart woman, even if it was arranged, she probably could have gotten out of it. 

I hope to be as pretty as him when I grow up. Sigh

Chapter Text

“Daddy!” The youngest of the Malfoy family was a cute, shy little three year old tyke who was a blatant Daddy’s boy. 

Alceste ran into the arms of Lucius Malfoy, known as a cowardly bastard to anyone with half a brain. 

He was a spitting image of his father, clearly he took after the Malfoy’s more than he did the Blacks, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t favored by Narcissa. 

It was just that Draco, their eldest, was a raging Mummy’s boy who got extremely fussy whenever Alceste came close to her. 

So they, inevitably, spent their outing with Alceste on Lucius’ hip and Draco, who ‘was a big boy now’, spent it holding his Mummy’s hand and glaring at anyone who came too close. 

He himself only had his father’s hair, and looked entirely like Narcissa.

They were the perfect private family, two boys, an heir and a spare, both had the strong genes of their foreign blooded father, and the magic backing of their mother’s Black heritage. 

They were the perfect specimens to be added to the pureblood roster, and everyone thought so.

Including, of course, families with children their age.

“Draco.” Lucius looked down at his seven year old son. A number meant to bring in as much luck as possible, and one of the only acceptable ages to get engaged young at. 

“This is Pansy Parkinson, of the most noble family of Parkinson. From today onwards, she will be your fiancé.” 

He quivered in the face of responsibility, but swallowed it down to impress his father. “Of course, Father.”

He nodded and pushed his son forward, before leaving, letting Narcissa chaperone their meeting from then on. 

As soon as he walked out the door, he was accosted by his younger son, Alceste. “Daddy, am I getting married too?” 

Lucius pet the head of the son he fed personally, “No, you still have time.” Alceste grinned, and snuggled into his middle, “That means I can stay with Daddy longer, right?” 

Feeling vaguely choked up at the words of his clingy son, he hunched over slightly to hug him more. “Yes, you’ll be with me for a very long time.” 

It was a roundabout way of saying that no one had proposed any alliance by marriage for his son, and likely wouldn’t for a long time, as he was considered the spare, and despite the fact that the purbloods in Britain were desperate for new blood, they weren’t so desperate that they would set aside their pride and offer their own to what was considered ‘second rate goods’.

The only way Alceste would ever get married, is if he himself offered Alceste off. And call him overprotective, call it showing favoritism, but he was also in the opinion, that he would never, ever shove Alceste on any of these too posh, too prideful and abusive families. 

At least with his eldest, Draco, he would be in a certain position of power to defend himself, but Alceste? No, he would be without fangs or claws, and his poor son was so, so innocent, and by his own fault, sheltered. 

“Let’s leave your brother to his new fiancé.” He grabbed Alceste’s hand, “I suggest we call for ice cream, and you can read your newest book to me.” 

Alceste was already reading light, fifty page novels, he was very proud. “What was the name of it again?” 

“It’s called the Drawing of the three by Steven King. I asked Dobby to go buy it after I saw it in a muggle catalog.” Lucius raised an eyebrow, internally he slightly recoiled at the prospect of buying anything muggle, but was unable to reprimand his favorite son. 

“And where exactly did you find a muggle catalog?” he hoped it was from Dobby, he was looking for a reason to get rid of that miserable elf after it almost killed Alceste with it’s incompetence. 

The thought made him squeeze his son’s tiny hand a bit harder, the flashback of his poor infantile babe choking on his own vomit, nearly purple and unable to breathe made him want to pick him up and bundle him up where he would be safe in his arms all over again. 

“It’s a new section in the paper, you can order books from a man who sells contra- contra, um…that word that means it’s illegal to have the item.” 

“Contraband?” “Mhm, that’s the one.” 

He smiled down at his smart son, (Six! Only six and he already knows such big words!) “And which paper was that one in?” 

“The Quibbler one that you said was only useful to wipe your arse–” He hurriedly shushed his son, “Now when did you hear me say that?” 

“Draco said it and he said that you said it and that since he’s seven and grown up that means that he can repeat you which means I can’t tell on him.” 

Lucius’ jaw clenched, yes, Draco was getting into the awful habit of having a potty mouth thanks to those louts in Diagon alley. 

“Don’t listen to him, that is an adult word, and you must be much, much older to repeat it.” Alceste looked up at him with wide eyes, “Older than seven?!” 

He said it like he couldn’t believe you could get much older, and Lucius held back a small snort, “Yes, older than even eleven, or fifteen.” 

“Ok Daddy.” 

“Good boy.” 

Being nine years old in the Malfoy house was mostly normal. He still acted cutesy to get his way, Like a stray, too strong breeze could make him cry, his father, his cowardly, clever, totally a bastard father ate it right up. 

Perks of being the Patriarch’s favorite, of course, was that he got away with much, much, more than dear little Draco ever could. 

A week ago, Draco had been caught with a ‘muggle novelty item’ he’d gotten on a solo outing in Diagon alley, and Daddy– AHEM Father completely ripped him a new one, just in softer, more snobbish tones. 

Meanwhile, he, taking advantage of the fact that The Hobbit had been published just last year– he’d bought it off the catalog, of course, and his Father had read it to him that very same night, while of course, making sure to disperse any fantasies about other races that the book might’ve had, and to make sure he knew that as well. 

He was spoiled absolutely rotten, and the recent Daddy’s boy development in Draco made him absolutely green with envy. 

It had led to his lovely older brother being the most spiteful thing on earth. Tripping him as he ran past, (he got a busted nose and Draco had a day to himself in his locked room) or ripping up his muggle books, or of course, hiding his things. 

He was nothing but a terror, and it led to them being separated, almost permanently. 

Narcissa had suggested that Draco spend more time with his Father to abate the jealousy, to which his Father agreed. (Not reluctantly, because despite everything, Draco was still his son .) 

It led to him spending a day out with his ‘Mummy’, which led to her visiting her sister, much to his horror. 

“Mummy, where are we going?” He looked up at his Mother, who looked to the side with a blank face, she shook his arm lightly as they walked into the branch ministry building located just off Diagon and discreetly to the side of Knockturn. 

“None of that Mummy business, honestly, your Father–” She muttered to herself as they made it to the front desk. 

The secretary at the front desk lidded her eyes and made a distinctly displeased-but-I’m-trying-to-hid-it face. “Ah, Narcissa, back again for your appointment?” Narcissa pursed her lips, “Of course, that’s the point of monthly appointments, I come back every month.”

She leaned over her desk, “A new face, where’s dear little Draco?” Narcissa, even with her frost towards him, still pulled him to hide a bit behind her back, “This is Alceste, it’s about time he met his aunt too.” 

The secretary nodded, “Of course, make sure he knows what happens when someone gets out of line, hmmm?” 

Narcissa took a deep breath, but luckily, they were checked in before she could say anything scathing. “Come Alceste.” She glared at the secretary before pulling them both in. 

They were led to a lone room, where a neat little gold bracelet sat on a pedestal. She turned to look at him, “Mother needs you to be very quiet, I mean not a word, your Aunt Bella isn’t the most sound of mind at the moment-” As if she was ever, he scoffed internally “-But that doesn’t mean rise to her bait, regardless.” 

She held his hand, and grabbed the bracelet firmly. Boy, Harry wasn’t kidding about how much it sucked to apparate. 

He had to hold in his stomach with an iron will and hopes and dreams it seemed like, as their feet landed on the firm stone of the entrance to Azkaban. 

He obediently kept quiet as she checked in with guards at the front, who confirmed with her that Bellatrix was in the visitation room, and that she had a solid thirty minutes to talk. 

He squeezed his Mother’s hand tighter, who ignored him, pulling him along into the large prison that seemed to ooze blackness as a feeling. 

The screams and wails of the damned, that’s the only description he could think of when he heard the echo of the prisoners off the walls. 

She led them steadily, up winds and twists of stairs grimy and brown, smelling rancid. They passed by a particular cell, he clutched at the front of his frilled collar tighter as they passed. It was Sirius Black, the poorest man on earth, in terms of luck. 

“Sniveling coward.” He muttered as they walked past. “Blood traitor.” She shot back. He looked at the sad sack of a man, looking miserable as he leaned against the bars of his cell. 

His mother let him go with no issue, unconcerned for her child as she walked ahead to unlock the doors of the next floor. He stood there in contempulance, before pulling out his green hair ribbon, the dresser boasted that even old or dirty, that specific cut of silk would still be worth at least ten galleons. 

He hurriedly ran over and shoved it through the bars, dropping in, his hair now flying all over the place. 

“Bye-bye Uncle.” Well, technically second cousin, but how would a nine year old know that, right?

The man shifted slightly, but didn’t say anything as he ran back over to his mother, who had beckoned him over, saying nothing on the interaction. 

And up another flight they went. 

“You let him meet Bellatrix?!” It was the closest thing to yelling his Father had actually gotten to. He sat between his standing parents, he wouldn’t admit to shivering, but he wouldn’t say that he wasn’t completely afraid of Bella after that fateful interaction. 

“Oh please, you must stop coddling him! It’s important for him to meet his relatives, Draco has.” 

His Father started pacing, looking slightly cross, when honestly, to the people who lived with him could tell he was completely out of his mind at the moment. 

“That is because Draco is the ELDEST! One day he will need to manage the affairs of all of his relatives!”

That probably hurt Narcissa, but no doubt, it was the truth, because aside from Sirius, the Malfoy line was secondary to their French main branch, and of course, the new Main branch of the Blacks, whether they liked it or not. 

Which meant, of course, that it was necessary for Draco to know of every living relative walking around so that when he was older, he could manage the responsibilities of their actions without being accosted or blindsided one day in the future. 

“I can not believe you walked our nine year old son into BLOODY AZKABAN! Like it was a day trip!” And now his Father was looking disheveled. 

His Father threw up a hand before Narcissa could say a word more, “Enough! I should know better than to reason with your side of the family,” He looked over at Alceste, “Come Alceste.” He beckoned him over, which Alceste did quickly. 

He walked them out, “Let’s go on a leisure trip, you said you wanted to see that muggle theater, yes? I suppose I can weather it.”

And that was how he took his father to see the Last Unicorn.

Chapter Text

Alceste bit his thumbnail anxiously, he paced his room as he thought long and hard. Earlier today, he saw off Draco, and next year, his Mother and Father will do the same for him. 

With how quickly Draco gained a bad reputation in the books, he could only imagine what it will be like for him when he joins. 

And of course, Draco would not stand up for him, that prat wouldn’t know character development unless it punched him in the face-- quite literally, in fact, if they were following the script. 

He needed to think of a way to make sure, without a doubt, that people would see him in a better light than his brother. 

And as much as he hated to say it, tried and true tested Slytherin he had been according to the Potterhead site, he couldn’t let the hat put him in the snake pit. 

Gryfinndor was a hard no, his Father would probably have a heart attack on the spot, and the year he joined would be the year the chamber was opened, which would make him a prime target as a ‘blood traitor’. 

Hufflepuff was also out, he’d then be marked as a bully target, and his Father would start a parent war if he heard his darling Alceste was being bullied at school. 

So Ravenclaw it was. Eugh, he was already dreading having to sit outside the dorm door for hours because he couldn’t solve the riddle. 

Okay, okay focus, he had the house down, now what club? He could do the herbology club…or quidditch–wait actually no, Draco would be absolutely unbearable, and he wouldn’t be able to join until second year anyway. 

Chess? No, he was barely any good. Hmm, well, fuck! There wasn’t much to do in the wizarding world, especially not in a boarding school in the bum fuck of Scotland. 

He could…make a new club. But what would it be? They would need actual interested members to make a teacher vouch it. He rubbed his temples, trying his best to think. 

“Young Master Alceste! The Master has called for you for Dinner!” A younger elf, (Because Dobby wasn’t allowed near him after the seventh muggle book that had been of the horror genre) popped in just as an idea was forming. 

He groaned, but conceded with his Father’s wishes. “Let him know I’ll be down in a minute, I just have to tidy my desk.” 

Alceste was panicking a bit now, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it. Six months until his birthday, six months until he would have to drag himself to his fate. 

He knocked delicately on the door to his Father’s office. The thick, expensive wood (probably mahogany, heh) hurt his knuckles. 

“Come in.” Was muffled through, barely. Of course, his Father must know it was him, no one was allowed to visit the Malfoy manor without an invitation, not even the minister, and if someone did, you can bet his Father would make everyone hear of such a disgrace. 

He opened the door, putting on the cute persona like a well worn mask at this point. “Dad- Ahem, I mean, Father?” 

Lucius put down his quill, taking off his glasses with the other hand as he looked up. “Ah, Alceste.” As if you didn’t know. “What do you need?” 

He made a show of tugging on a strand of his hair as a ‘nervous habit’, “I was thinking about Hogwarts..” 

His Father beckoned him to sit, not at the chair opposite of his desk, oh heavens no, forbid the thought of his ‘darling, baby boy who he fed, changed, and taught to speak’ to sit anywhere but on his knee if given the chance. 

His Father, as consequence of being an actual parent who held him almost 24/7 when he was still small enough, was instantly affectionate, caressing his cheek and brushing his hair out of his face. Only behind closed doors, where no one else could see the man had an actual heart. 

“Are you nervous? Do you want to go to another school? I would understand, your Mother and I have noticed Draco’s…less an agreeable attitude towards you. You could always go to Durmstrang, I know the headmaster, it would be no issue–”

Wow, and he’s suddenly hit with fondness for his Father he rarely wants to recognise because he read the books dammit, but it’s extremely hard not to hug him and sob into his shoulder for not wanting to push school trauma on his kid. 

‘Remember what you’re here for, dammit.’

“N-no, I was, um…wondering if it’s possible to make your own club at Hogwarts even if you’re a first year…” 

Lucius’ eyebrows raised up in incredulity. “You..want to make a club?” He shrugged, “I’ve been thinking about it, and I looked up the most recent roster of clubs at Hogwarts, but none of them appeal to me, but I did some light reading in Hogwarts, a History and there’s a policy of allowing students to make clubs, but I don’t really know how long it’s held up, or if they changed the age requirements, or added clauses…” 

He finished his half panicked spiel by ducking his head and fiddling with his fingers, unwilling to see the face his Father would make, would it be an angry one? Would his bias for him shine through? Or would he scold him for being childish like he does Draco…?

He heard a sigh, “Alceste, look at me.” He did so without a thought, his Father had never struck him, he doubted he’d start now just because he asked about clubs. 

His Father had a soft look on his face as he tugged him closer, “You are my second child, my spare. But you will never need to worry about living up to anything, or disappointing me, so when you come to ask something of me, I want you to do so in confidence next time, it is the Malfoy way.” 

Imparting a lesson on your child teaching him to not be afraid to ask for things? Who are you and what have you done with the original Lucius Malfoy? Well, actually no, because in the books Draco was a spoiled little ponce. Alright, continue, you’re totally in character, I think. 

“I’ll send a letter ahead of time, and you’ll be the first to know about their club policy, understood?” 

He nodded shyly. “But in return, I ask you not to hide in your room when your brother comes home for the holiday.” Ugh, fine. “Alright Father.” 

“Good boy.”

In turns out first years can make a club, but they need to readily have at least three members to enroll, and they need the vouch of a teacher, since the teacher will be the one in charge of their budget and activities, which undoubtedly would put a lot on their schedule already. No wonder the clubs haven’t changed in almost a hundred years, well…officially anyway. 

Which meant he’d have to start brainstorming ideas for a club at least three people would join. He had to scrap his muggle appreciation club idea, his Father would never stand for it, undoubtedly, but other than that, he had no ideas!

He poked around at his pork glumly at the dinner table as he tried to think up a good idea. It was a Christmas Dinner, and ugh, his Brother’s Godfather, Severus Snape, sat to his Father’s right along with Draco, while he sat with his Mother on his Father’s left. 

Draco’s Godmother, Louvenia Greengrass (Daphne and Astoria’s mother) couldn’t make it, (Thanks the gods), and his own God parents, who is still hasn’t heard the names of, presumably got a letter and just like every other year, have not come. 

So it’s just three adults and two children, obviously they need to bust out the party horns. 

What he didn’t understand is why they weren’t throwing a ball or something, in the books it was all Draco could talk about, but now they’re sitting at a sad long table in silence like a bunch of losers. 

Draco cleared his throat self importantly and Alceste rolled his eyes hard as he looked down at his food. 

“Father, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Harry Potter, a first year , has made seeker.” Good for him, now shut up and eat your peas Draco. 

His Father hummed, and Alceste felt a distinct chill up his spine. “Is that so, Severus?” Angst on wheels gave a subtle nod of confirmation. 

The air became chillier in an instant, it seemed like. His Father was looking prettier by the minute, but he saw a stray feather by his ear…

He shuddered subtly, hoping his father didn’t change into a harpy this instant in his anger, if that was possible…Was it? 

He chose this precise moment to look up at his Father, “Speaking of quidditch Father, that reminds me!” 

Snape raised an eyebrow, his Mother gave him a glance, and Draco outright glared. “I was thinking about the club, and I thought long and hard about it..” 

His Father inclined his head, “As you should, making a new club is a big decision. What did you decide?” 

Random bullshit go! “I was studying different hobbies to see what would best give me extra credit and also attract enough members, and I decided on Cheer!”

His Father paused, as did his Mother, surprisingly. “And…what exactly is that?” He set down his fork, and committed to the act. 

“It’s a combination of a muggle sport, called cheerleading, where muggles will train tirelessly to tone their muscles and do impressive acrobatic feats with the help of their fellows, all without magic! And I combined it with quidditch, thinking maybe we could make it into a showmanship activity.”

His Father put a hand to his chin, as if imagining it, and he continued on before he said no, “We would do impressive spells, learn to stand on brooms..we could cheer on different quidditch teams! It would give me a lot of exposure so that when I’m older, I can be recognised.”

Really selling the ‘extra credit’ part of the activity. “And to top it off, since it’s not involved in the actual act of quidditch, merely cheering it on, I can start first year! And I know there’ll probably be a lot of other first years who want to ride on brooms, but can’t until their second year, so they’ll definitely join.”

Lucius gave an approving nod, “You’ve really thought about this.”

Ha no.

“Mhm, I wanted it to benefit me both in reputation and physically.” His Mother tilted her head to the side, “I’ll vouch for it if your Father doesn’t.” 

There was another pause, and then his Mother turned her glare on Severus. He gave a sigh similar to the one he gave Umbridge in the movies, and went back to his quail. 

“I will..talk with Madame Hooch on the matter. She isn’t in charge of any clubs, so she will most likely approve it.” 

Club? Secured!

Chapter Text

“You promise to be safe?” he nodded obediently, his father talked in low tones, the surrounding families were all hugging their children tearfully, shouts of love and well wishes echoing on the platform. 

Their family of four stuck to the pillars, out of the crowd, quiet with nothing more than a reassuring hand on the shoulder or their hair being fixed fussily. 

To outside parties, they looked like a very unaffectionate family, almost morose, with their solemn and serious faces, none the wiser to how much a father loved his son, and a mother loved her first born.

“If you are bullied, don’t be afraid to call for me, much like your brother, I won’t hesitate to help you along.” 

Oh, that would be very clear this year, knowing Draco and his bribes. Alceste nodded anyway, keeping his mouth shut. 

The last whistle called, Alceste used it as his exiting cue, head held up proudly as he stepped onto the train. 

Draco walked past him to beeline for the back of the train, most likely to meet up with his friends and fiancé. He turned and went towards the front of the train, taking in all the people in the compartments. 

There were no empty compartments, the emptiest one had two girls who sat close together in it. He squinted at the red and bright blonde hair combo, and kept from giggling demetedly. 

He knocked, sliding the door open gently. 

“Can I sit here? Most of the other compartments are full.” The red haired girl looked at him warily, before nodding. He stepped inside, no trunk to worry about because his father sent his things ahead of time. 

He sat down with little sound, right across from them both. He put a palm to his heart and did a half bow, “Alceste Abraxas Malfoy, second son of Lord Malfoy at your service.” 

The girl scoffed, and spit on her hand, holding it out to him, a sardonic smirk as if she knew he wouldn’t take it on her face. 

“Ginny Weasly.” He surprised her by spitting on his own palm, and meeting her halfway. He internally cringed a tad at the squish of saliva between their hands, but sucked it up. 

“Merry met.” He looked to Luna next, who did a far off smile and titled her head, “Luna Lovegood, you’re surprisingly free of Nargles, how interesting.” 

He wasn’t going to unpack that. 

“Merry met you both. I’m a first year student, how about both of you?” He pulled out his wand from his holster, he’d like to put it on an earring instead, or maybe a belt, but he had a feeling his father wouldn’t have gone for it unless it was a staff like his. 

“Same, gonna be an underclassman to the Harry Potter, exciting isn’t it?” A quick Scourgify to both his and Ginny’s palms, and he was also smiling a tad. “From how much my older brother has prattled on about him, I feel as if I already know him.” 

Ginny nodded, “It’s all my older brother’s could talk about in their letters to mum, can’t say I’m not excited to meet him.” 

He observed that Ginny was just as rough around the edges as she was when she got over Harry as a crush in the books, but she still had that school girl crush that tinged away any type of no nonsense she showed later on, it was giving him whiplash. 

“I’m more excited for my club this year, and trying to convince the hat to put me in Ravenclaw instead of pitting me with my older brother.” 

Luna perked up in interest, Ginny was focused more on his lack of enthusiasm for the house Slytherin. 

“You don’t want to be a Slytherin? But you’re a Malfoy.” He scoffed, “There are many great Slytherins, don’t get me wrong, but I’d sooner die than share a dorm with the same git who tried to smother me in my sleep.” 

They were young, and dumb, and so were their parents, who thought it’d be good to let a four and five year old share the same room to promote better brotherly bonding. 

Draco proved them wrong the same night he developed his Daddy phase, and their Father caught him when he was going to do his last check on them both before he went to retire. 

Ginny blanched, Luna hopped on the opportunity, “Club? You’re already in a club? I didn’t know you could do such a thing..” 

He shrugged a bit, “Perks of my older brother, as much as I hate to admit it, his godfather is a teacher, and he vouched for another teacher to set up a club for me, as long as I get three other members by the end of Christmas.” 

“What’s it called?” He let his grin show then, and explained in great detail the intricacies of cheer, and the idea of standing on brooms and charming the crowd. 

He got off the train with two fresh members, who promised to sign up as soon as Madame Hooch put up the signup sheet. He was in such good spirits, in fact, that he could completely ignore the sneer of his older brother as they crossed paths on the way to the boats. 

“Firs’ years over ‘ere! Come on now!” They all gathered like little ducklings under Hargrid’s large stature, he corralled them along like an experienced farmer, leading them all towards the boats. 

“Two to a boat, keep your hands and feet in please.” 

That warning would prove to be moot, as another first year fell into the lake, until he was swiftly halted back into the boat, they all, including Hagrid, looked at him a little surprised, before Hagrid shrugged off his overcoat to practically swallow the shivering little first year. 

Dennis then. He looked across from him, and found he couldn’t quite place who it was. 

After that, it was just a matter of waiting outside the great hall, until his name was called. Luna was the first of their trio to leave, and then more waiting, until he himself was next, walking proudly, no hesitance as he sat on the stool, looking down at the other students who were half paying attention and half into their own conversations. 

The hat sat on his head and he instantly could feel his second buddy in his mind. 

“Well well well, a reincarnation eh? Dime a dozen you lot were a couple centuries ago. Slytherin suits you well.”

Absolutely not , does this old rag not understand the absolute misery he’d be in if he was under his brother’s thumb?!

“Well, just for that I only want to put you in that house even more.” 

Please do not, not only would it be like being in an otome game on hard mode, he definitely couldn’t stand the thought of being under Lord got-your-nose’s radar simply because he was in Slytherin. 

“You’re already in that boiling pot, or have you forgotten what your last name is.” 

Hufflepuff then?! He wouldn’t mind Hufflepuff!

“Those poor badgers don’t need your mind games, and before you ask, I’d sooner let moths lay eggs in me before I put a Slytherin in Gryffindor….although admittedly I already did it, it’s only half as entertaining as I thought it’d be.” 

Please, please, please, Ravenclaw! Anything but Slytherin!

“Alright…you’re lucky the founders let the students choose as long as I was confident they could survive there. Better be…” 

“Ravenclaw!” 

The blue table was half confused, half happy, clapping semi-enthusiastically as he walked over, his tie turning blue on his way. 

He sat at the edge, almost completely apart from his peers, not of his own will, most of them scooted away, except for Luna, who smiled and waved at him as if they weren’t almost shoulder to shoulder. 

A few more students rolled in, before it was Ginny’s turn. The hat barely touched her head before she was a Gryfinndor, not that she looked all too pleased with being stuck with her older brothers. 

The headmaster clapped his hands, “Now that we’ve all been sorted, a few short words before we feast. Unfortunately, Professor Quirell will no longer be with us this year, instead, may I introduce you to Professor Lockhart—”

The poor man didn’t get to finish before Lockheart was standing up with a bow, and most of the heartstruck schoolgirls went wild. 

While Dumbledore was busy with crowd control, he took his chance to look around, spotting his older brother squinting in confusion at the Gryffindor table across the hall. He must be wondering where Ron and Harry are, if Hermione is there by herself. He glanced back and surprise (not) he’d been right, Hermione was pressing her lips together thinly, not so subtly looking around her table for the two troublemakers. 

The night ended after he spent the entire time ignoring his classmates, who in turn, ignored him and Luna, a unanimous decision after they saw her jewelry. 

She’d looked down, smiling dreamily but still quite disheartened, from what he could tell. “You don’t have to sit with me.” She murmured, “I can handle the nargles quite well on my own, I don’t need help.” 

He’d snatched a glass of pumpkin juice then, scoffing. “We’re to be club members, even if you don't do well on a broom, you’ll still be a part of it, and as the founder, it’s my responsibility to take care of everyone, no matter the issue.”

He pretended not to see her discreetly wiping her nose with the edge of her sleeve (forgot eleven year olds did that) and took a sip of pumpkin juice. He promptly grimaced at the less than stellar taste. It was definitely a healthier variant, no hint of apple or fall spices to be found in the drink. 

He slid it away and decided for tea instead, grabbing one of the empty bone china cups on a bronze lazy susan, the tea automatically filled to the brim and steaming. 

He almost spit that out too. Black tea ?! Weak black tea at that, definitely from a bag. 

He didn’t want to sound like Draco but—well, he can admit his Father did spoil him, imported tea from the eastern continent, steeped three times exactly to get the best, most fragrant flavor, Jasmine and Green tea had been his favorite, and not this weak cup of leaf juice. 

Turning to the spread of food, he struggled not to pick at his plate. Unseasoned mash potatoes with unsalted butter (Gag), Shepherd’s pie with more vegetables and meat, and the meat..the less said about it’s plain taste, the better. 

He understood most of the items here were probably unseasoned for the benefit of each individual student, some probably couldn't handle even salt , but it was putting him off his appetite. 

He’d left the dinner with his plate still full, only being able to bear taking sips of un-lemoned water. 

He’d felt bad, after all, the books were from the point of view of a boy so poor he couldn’t afford to worry about anyone else, but somehow came away from the situation with a hero complex. 

It wasn’t like he was thrilled to be wasting food, but his taste buds hadn’t had to endure the flavors of living paycheck to paycheck in this life, he never had to get creative with freeze dried ramen, or season things so much that you could no longer taste the freezer burn, or turn to spice when you’d get so depressed that everything started to taste like flavorless slop instead of food. 

His Father truly had him spoiled. Couldn’t be helped, he was only eleven, but maybe a word to the house elves would help him not starve later. 

They’d been given a prompt tour of the way to the Ravenclaw tower, the door knocker a polished bronze, the eagle boring holes into all of them. 

The prefect, who he didn’t know at all, faced the door. 

“Say my name and I disappear, what am I?” 

“As you can see, some of the riddles can get particularly difficult. Nonetheless, if you can’t solve it, I’m afraid you’ll be stuck outside the door until a different student comes along and is asked a different riddle.”

He motioned for another student to come forward and face the door. 

“It is the beginning of eternity, the end of time and space, the beginning of the end and the end of every space, what is it?” 

“The letter E.” The older student said shortly. 

The door swung open and most of the older years went through hurriedly, eager to get to bed, most likely. 

The prefect ushered them all in and motioned to a hallway. “First years will be in this hallway nearest to the door, girls on the left, boys on the right. Each room is naturally warded, but no boy can enter a girl’s room without permission from said girl.”

So they got their own rooms? Made sense, Rowena promoted knowledge and learning above else, you probably couldn’t do such a thing in confined spaces without a place to put your learning tools. 

The first years all filed in, cramped in the small two person hall. One by one, each boy and girl went down the row looking for their name on the door plate. His was near the end of the hall, the hallway window overlooked the quidditch pitch.

The books boasted that the Ravenclaw tower was one of the highest towers, and could see everything, the quidditch pitch, the herbology gardens, the forbidden forest, and the lake, to name a few. 

Perfect for looking out at the world without having to leave the comfort of your learning holes. 

He opened the door, which let him in with little more than a swoosh, and he shut it with the same grace you would expect of a young wixen noble. The door barely whispered as it clicked back into its lock. 

Looking around he couldn’t help but be impressed, the Ravenclaw tower wasn’t just all talk, you really did have all the tools you needed for learning. 

Privacy, space, lots of natural and artificial lighting, and the ceiling was spelled to be the night sky. 

He’d have to ask if that was a real time sky, but knowing Ravenclaws, it probably was, since most of them were notorious for taking things like astronomy, but most classes were once a week, so they’d have to find a way to do their homework without breaking the curfew. 

There was a mew, and he lit up, rushing over to the deep blue bed, and pulling back the heavy banister. 

A black cat was what he asked of Father for a pet, and a magical Raven had caught his eye at Eyelops when they went for his supplies. 

Just as he expected, his Raven, a large black bird, sleek and glossy feathers, and the same intelligent stare he’d seen when he was exploring the more exotic pets. 

The cat was only eight months old, small and mischievous, when he’d pet him. 

The elegant silver collar with gold lettering was pleasing to see, he’d amit. The glittering letters spelling out ‘Salem’ made him feel giddy. After all, he’d never been allowed pets in his apartment, not that he could afford them anyway. 

The cat was also magical of course, and he was told when he was older, he might tend to disappear and reappear somewhere completely different, which was expected of a magical cat, a way for them to protect themselves from nosey muggles. 

He gave Salem a gentle pet along his flank, before turning his attention to the Raven. He’d wanted to call him Nevermore, but his Father had shot it down, Salem being named after one muggle thing had been enough for him. 

So he’d gone and named him Giveon instead. He would have named him Lucifer as a third choice, but threw it out when he remembered that the name in question was associated more with snakes, dragons, and peacocks. 

The bird in question cooed at him from his perch near the closed window. He opened it without thought, the latch making a loud ‘clink’ in the otherwise quiet room. 

Giveon wasted no time in flapping out, he had but a moment to admire the bird’s non reflective silver legband, his Father told him in the case that another student also had a raven, he’d had the peacock engraved on Giveon’s band for easy identification. 

He then set about putting everything away from his trunk. Books went in the bare shelves, large and many as there were, he assumed he’d be expected to have his own library soon enough. 

His scales, potions ingredients, cauldron, etc.. went in various compartments in the large philosopher’s desk built into the wall, and he set his telescope near the window. 

Last were his clothes, most could go back in his trunk, but he preferred to hand them so they didn’t wrinkle. Luckily there was a type of handing closet, but it looked more to be for the use of drying parchment than clothes, so he used the various metal clips to hang up his uniform, and packed his out of school clothes back in the trunk. 

He took off and threw his dirty uniform in the hamper by the door, and blindly braided his hair before throwing on his silk nightgown, the white of it was exactly like his Fathers, which was a disturbing thought. 

His wand went on the nightstand, (Acacia, unicorn hair, thirteen inches, particularly neat and rigid, in Ollivander’s words.)

He pulled Salem to his chest, and went to sleep. 

He woke up with the sun as a habit of his Father, who’d done so everyday since he was an infant, and had taken him with him everywhere until he turned four, but by then the damage was done, and when the sun rose, so did he, unfortunately. 

He grabbed his wand off the nightstand, Salem took the opportunity to jump out of the bed now the curtains were open. 

One of the first spells he’d learned in his Father’s house was the Tempus and Lumos, a quick murmur and a flick, showed him it was just before five. 

His head fell back into his pillow, he groaned. 

He entered the great hall with not a hair out of place, Salem bundled underneath his over-robe, nibbling at his silver collar chain, the peacock brooch attached to it quivered on it’s pin, it’s beak moved without noise as it looked at up at his chin, pleading. 

He almost ran straight into Harry Bloody Potter’s back, who’d been having a face off with His older brother. He muttered an “Apologies” and tried to move on with his day. 

His Brother was in the mood to be a git today, it seemed, he tripped him up, and he almost squashed Salem as he planted face first into the floor, his arms braced in front of himself to protect Salem from his body weight. 

No one in their little group was willing to help him up, his coloring kept Ron from even being near him. 

Draco snorted, a scatthing “Pathetic.” Directed at him kept him from immediately getting back up. 

“Are we kicking our own family down now, Malfoy? Dind’t know you’d stoop so low.” “Shut your mouth Potter, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

He sighed and took the opportunity of their renewed verbal insults to get up swiftly and brush himself off. He pulled his robe away from his body to check on Salem, who glared up at him, affronted. 

“Sorry.” He whispered, petting along the kitten’s nose in apology.

As he walked towards his table, he hadn’t noticed Hermione looking at him. 

He’d been busy trying to find something on the breakfast table that wouldn’t turn him away from food for the rest of the day when a stack of envelopes fluttered down from Flitwick’s spot at the head table. 

Their little charmed paper wings ensured they found their owner, and soon his gently was laid in his palm. 

He pulled out his totally smart buy letter opener from his standard trousers belt, the stupid thick and heavy thing had many loops for a wand, which he’d used to repurpose for things like a letter opener. 

The silver of the metal gleamed as he edged the envelope open. 

Today he had three mandatory classes, DADA, Charms, and Magical Theory, which was a mandatory class for Ravenclaws (yay). 

He’d signed up for Muggle Music and Art, because he’d had enough of the Wixen variant to last him a lifetime because of his Father’s social status. 

Unfortunately both of those extracurriculars wouldn’t brighten his day until Friday, which was already packed with three other classes. 

The official ‘Qidditch Cheer club’ papers were packed in behind his schedule, he was almost giddy enough to squeal when he saw his name below the Captain and founder position. 

More blank sheets for members to sign up were behind that one, twenty in total. He doubted there’d be twenty kids besides Ginny and Luna willing to hop into a club that was mixed with a muggle sport. 

He remembered he only had two months give or take to get these to Hooch, which jump started him into finding Ginny at the Gryffindor table while he waited for Luna. 

He made his way over, already spotting Ginger hair. It was Percy, who sat next to Ginny, talking about something made her look bored out of her mind. 

As he drew closer, he could hear the speech on extracurriculars assault his ears. 

“Ginny, you said you wanted to sign up right?” He pulled out the blank signup sheet and slid it over to her side of the table. Thankfully the benches were mostly empty so he didn't have to reach over anyone. 

“Oh!” She looked half surprised. Maybe she thought he was lying, or wouldn’t go through with it after all. 

“I’m still waiting on Luna, I might go look for her, the other year mates didn’t take well to her at the feast last night.” 

She nodded, already had a quill out from her bag as was rapidly scratching down her info on the paper. 

He gave her three more sheets. “See if you can get others to join, yeah? I don’t think my last name is going to stock me with any brownie points with recruitment.” 

She laughed outright, “You’d be right about that. I’ll see what I can do.” He left just as Harry Potter sat down, and her attention was spit between her sheet and the boy in question. 

Next was the Hufflepuff table, he waved at the pack of badgers, most, if not all of them there, which wasn’t a surprise, considering most of the other students liked to bully them according to the books. 

“Ah, Hello. My name is Alceste Malfoy, I’m the Captain of the Quidditch Cheer club, and was wondering if anyone would like to sign up…?” He posed himself as nervous and coltish, his height, or lack thereof, helped his case. 

Half their population melted, and one girl elbowed a second year hard in the ribs. 

The second year in question was the greek fantasy to put it lightly, tan skin, golden honey eyes and blonde curly locks that were fluffy and bright in the early morning lighting. 

He huffed irritatedly, and motioned for Alceste to hand over a sheet. “Fine, fine, but if it’s lame I’m leaving.” 

A boy he recognized to be Cedric sighed and chuckled good naturedly, “Thank you Zachary.” 

He turned away as he had a crisis, That was Zacharias Smith?! The admittedly faultless at the time teen who came off as a right prat in the books was Apollo personified?! What else has he been lied to about?!

The last table…he cringed, he’d have to try and beg a Slytherin into his club. He definitely wasn’t looking forward to that. 

He went over with dread in his heart, passing the now full head table, the eyes of vultures seemingly closed in on him, as he approached the Slytherin table. 

“Merry met, Alceste Abraxus Malfoy at your service.” He started it off with a dull tone, completely unenthused, and not expecting anything of this interaction other than scorn. 

“I’m the Captain of the Quidditch Cheer club, and was wondering if anyone would be interested in signing up—” Immediately there was laughter. He sighed and rolled his eyes as Draco smirked smugly at him. 

He gave up, he wasn’t in the mood for public humiliation today. “Yeah that’s what I thought.” He muttered, retreating back to his table. 

He spotted Luna near the end, shoeless. He sat down heavily beside her and passed over a signup sheet. 

“Ginny already signed up, hopefully she nets in a couple more members, but I’m not holding my breath. I also managed to get a second year to join from Hufflepuff.” She blinked widely at the sheet. 

“Here, let me see your schedule.” She did so a bit dazedly, while setting about pulling a quill out of her bag. 

He glanced over it, humming. “We have the same schedule except for extracurriculars, you took Xylomancy? Cool.” He handed it back to her, while she handed him her now filled out form. 

He looked over her applied position, which was…treasurer. “You don’t want to fly?” She shook her head, and looked down at the table. Ah, rough morning. “Don’t worry, I’m not that good with money anyways, I’ll need a right hand.” 

It was a complete lie, he’d micromanaged every cent for decades before he bit the bullet, but Luna in her first year was not the same dreamy, happy, unbothered, naturally gifted seer that Harry encountered later on. 

The bell sounded, the loud thing that it was, they were so close to the damn entrance (where the bells were sat like great big eyesores) that the wooden polished benches vibrated. 

He sighed, well, he’d have a good three parts of an hour to look through his muggle book catalog that he’d snuck into his trunk last night.