So, I think I’m coming back to HP, finally, but not Sirry yet. Right now, I’m working out the draft of a time travel drarry canon rewrite. Why? Because I can. I’m about 3 chapters in and I thought I might post a preview for anyone who is interested in reading my works. i think if you enjoyed Three Sisters, then you might like a fic in which Draco Malfoy is the Boy Who Lived:
Lucius seemed to find his voice now as he shoved his wife behind him. “My lord, Draco is not the same as the Potter and Longbottom children. He was born in June—”
“You disappoint me, Lucius,” the Dark Lord interrupted. “I thought you, among your cousins and in-laws, would be cannier than to attempt to circumvent a prophecy. Or did you think I would not discover that your wife was due at the end of July and you had her birth prematurely? Worry not that the other children are being dealt with as we speak. But the child in your wife’s arms belongs to me.”
“My lord, Draco is not—!”
“Silence!” The world of Malfoy Manor hushed at the command in the Dark Lord’s voice. Draco could see his father unbearably tense in the effort not to quake in his boots. “You test my patience, Lucius. Even now, you withhold your child from me, when you have pledged your magic and your blood to me.”
“I did not pledge my flesh, my lord,” and Lucius sounded almost sullen in his declaration. “Please, Draco fits none of the words Snape has reported—”
The Dark Lord laughed, and Draco thought that sibilant laughter would haunt his nightmares for years to come. “Do not treat me like your foolish peers, Lucius! The dragon light-bringer! These are the words of the prophecy! Do you not see how stupidly you have fallen into its trap, in your hubris of maintaining your unctuous family traditions? Hand the child to me now, and you and your wife will be spared.”
Narcissa’s hand darted to the sleeve of Lucius' robe. “No, please, Lucius! He’s your son!”
He did not finish stumbling over his words as the Dark Lord had already raised his wand. The way he uttered the fateful spell was almost bored. Lazy. But the flash of green light from his wand would haunt Draco forever.
Lucius was dead before he hit the ground. Narcissa shuddered as she watched her husband fall, her arms now convulsive, painful around the rolls of baby fat of Draco’s little body.
“You killed him,” she said, and the disbelief in her breath was palpable as the air shimmered once more, Narcissa invoking the dark, powerful magic of the Black blood that ran in her veins. “You killed him when you were the one to give him to me.”
“I gave him to you, Narcissa, and I can take him away. Hand the child over now.”
Narcissa’s fingers were talons around Draco’s body, her nails digging into the fabric of his clothes. “He is mine! You can’t take him! He is mine! My flesh! My blood! You cannot—”
“Do not be foolish, child,” the Dark Lord interrupted impatiently, his wand now trained on Draco’s mother. “That child is no more yours than was your foolish husband. You have him because I allowed you to. Now hand the boy to me and I will spare your life.”
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