Chapter One
October 8, 2005
On the quiet, darkened streets of Adare Village, Ireland, a stressed man, plump in size, was searching for something precious to him. Something he had lost for an hour now, giving him no hope of returning.
He had hoped to see its little figure running along the asphalt, its smile brighter than a car's headlights, heading straight into the man's arms. After the hour became two, the man began to think that he would have to go home and shakingly face his wife's fiery wrath at this news.
Then he saw it: his small daughter, unscathed and smiling with her teddy bear in hand. The man's joyful beam quickly faded as soon as he saw what she held in her other hand: a bleach blond man's hand guiding her across the street. His dress suit and pants were a midnight black, greatly matching his dress coat, and his eyes were an arctic blue. His shoes looked as if they had been newly polished just that morning by a fine shoeshiner. The father, shocked, froze for a moment before he ran up to them, getting a gun out of his pocket.
The blond man stopped and stared at the armed approaching man. His eyebrow lifted.
The father, now pointing the gun at the blond's head, commanded, "Let go of my daughter's hand this instant!" At the surprise of the man, he let go, staring in at the gun with cold eyes. With one swift movement of his hand, he knocked the gun to the ground, then promptly put his firm foot on it to keep the man from obtaining it again.
"Do not point things at me," said the blond coolly. The plump man was shook, hastily taking his daughter into his arms. What he failed to see, though, was what the blond held in his arm. When the man turned, he revealed a child that looked no more than one-year old at most, copying his appearance.
"Did you take that baby, too?" yelled the plump man, hurriedly stepping back. The blond turned more toward him. "No, nor did I take your daughter," he replied. "I was merely helping her cross the road, and immediately go searching for her parent. Take better care of your child."
And with that, the mysterious man walked past the irresponsible father. The latter was not done talking to him, though, and he turned to call him back.
However, there was no man, nor was there a baby. Only a few windswept leaves lied where the blond man would be.
The plump man looked around for any natural explanation for this. He then looked down to see his daughter smiling, giggling even. "What's so funny?" he asked concernedly.
"Magic," she replied, giggling once more. The man's eyes widened, and he looked forward, pondering his daughter's statement.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Somewhere down the long ways of the street, a young woman was resting in her tranquil cottage. Her shadowy room was only lit by the small candle she kept on her nightstand. Her fluffy Border Collie slept soundly by her bed.
KNOCK
KNOCK
KNOCK
These loud knocks awoke the dog, but the woman only stirred for a few moments. The knocks occurred again:
KNOCK
KNOCK
KNOCK
The dog jumped on top of his owner and licked her awake. "Okay, okay!" responded the woman tiredly. She gently pushed her dog off of her and built up the strength to leave her bed. Once up, the collie led her to the door in a hurry. It was almost as if he knew something she didn't...
At the dog's excited insistence, the woman opened slowly cracked open the door. Her eyes peeped around, "Can I help you?" she asked.
"It's me, Nora. Draco."
Her eyes went wide, and she opened the door a little more to see if this was true. It very much was; standing there was a striking young man with fairly long, slicked back blond hair and familiarly arctic eyes. "Malfoy?" she whispered. Her eyes drifted from him to the baby laying on his shoulder. It was the spitting image of its keeper. "Is that—"
"My son?" Draco finished for her. "Yes, and that is what I have come to talk to you about."
Nora's eyes kept flicking between the two, then behind her, then back at them. "Would you like to talk about this inside?" she asked. Draco nodded, stepping past her. She softly closed the door.
"I'll make some tea while you tell me the reason that you're here at one in the morning," She stated pointedly. Draco, after staring at it with minor judgement, took a seat on a rocking chair near the warm fireplace. "You act older than you claim," he stated sarcastically. "And why is the fireplace still on at this time of night?"
Nora came out of her pantry with a teabag box in hand. "The same reason you're here," she replied curtly. "I guess some things — or people — just don't know what rest is." Draco didn't say another word for fear of poking the bear.
After a few moments of silence, Nora began to grow impatient. "I said while I made your tea, not after," she irritably reminded him. He stared out of the window for a moment, then audibly cleared his throat.
"The baby of question is my son, Atticus René Malfoy. Astoria, his mother, has been killed by the blood curse set by a Death Eater. It was exacerbated by his birth..." Draco bobbed the baby up and down in his arms gently as it began to stir. He then continued his speech.
"Unfortunately, he is in great danger. His power is unlike any other I've ever seen... Even from great wizards. Therefore, he cannot be exposed to too much magic until he turns old enough to attend Hogwarts. It has a dangerously high chance of activating his already-bubbling magic."
Nora brought two cups of tea for the both of them towards the table. She gave him one cup and took a seat across from him. "I can't believe Astoria's dead... What does this have to do with me?" she asked.
"Your magic has always puzzled me," he replied reflectively. "It's always been oddly subdued. Every time I've visited your estate, I've felt like I had to find the magical feeling rather than feel it. I've been told by numerous people that mudbloods — er, sorry — muggleborns have the same amount of magic and capability as purebloods. I like to believe that it is just your magical nature, but I can't help but wonder if those people were wrong." Spotting the glare that overtook his friend's face, he slightly retreated.
"Get to the point," she commanded sternly.
"You're the most perfect person that I could leave my child with. I couldn't possibly risk his safety and allow him to live with me. You're the only one capable of handling him, especially given his abilities. Since he cannot be exposed to too much magic, and he does not have available parents, he needs a mother-figure."
Nora was taken back for a few seconds but recollected herself. "Why is he in danger?" she questioned. Draco shook his head. "I cannot say," he replied, much to her irritation.
"You can't just show up to my house and put this baby in my care! I deserve to know the full explanation!"
With that, an unexpected lightning cracked outside the window with a prompt thunderclap. Heavy rainfall could be heard as if it were inside the cottage.
The baby began to stir again, this time wildly. Draco softly hushed it and stood up. "Listen, I do not have much time," he said hastily. "You must care for him now, for his sake and possibly for yours." He placed the baby in her arms as it started to cry, and Nora could see tears gather in Draco's eyes as well. He was never one to show much deep emotion, so she found it bothering.
He swiftly kissed the baby on the forehead and joined theirs for a moment. He looked up at Nora. "Do not tell him about me. I don't want him to look for me before he gets to Hogwarts."
Nora swallowed deeply and nodded. Draco looked back down at the child, tearily whispering, "Goodbye son," then briskly ran out the door in a flash, just as lightning blazed the land outside and lit up the dark living room.
Nora looked back down at her new child. He was utterly adorable, she had to admit. The dog approached him and suspiciously sniffed the unfamiliar specimen. Nora was surprised when he caressed the baby's head with his paw.
"Well, if Colin has taken a liking to you, I suppose you are officially part of the family," laughed Nora. She knew that they all had very long years ahead of them.
