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[Harry Potter] Malfoid Stories
- Thread starter AJ_Talon
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Cleddyf
Where is Divine Shield when I need it?
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Granted, Hermione is not super pretty, Emma Watson not withstanding, depending on tastes. She can clean up quite nicely, but the sheer 'OMG, Hermione is hotter than Fleur/TonksCho/etc' you see from some Harmony fans is just boggling. Right up there with super genius Hermione.
Sliverhero
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So funniest that is seems happen, is the team up of and rivaly of Pansy and Ron
Zandran is fire.
Now im thinking in that year dentition Ron and pansy end up becoming one of those couple that like eachother very much but can be are extremely snarky with eachother
Zandran is fire.
Now im thinking in that year dentition Ron and pansy end up becoming one of those couple that like eachother very much but can be are extremely snarky with eachother
digcat
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Hermione: Name me a country that has better food than England.
View: https://m.youtube.com/shorts/94Vs9UaNJbw
View: https://m.youtube.com/shorts/94Vs9UaNJbw
Harry the Delinquent 4
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AJ_Talon
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Set in The Prisoner of Azkaban.
---
The door of the Shrieking Shack creaked open. Sirius Black stepped through first, gaunt and wild-eyed, wand raised. Ron lay on the floorboards with his leg bent at a wrong angle, face white with pain. Hermione stood frozen beside him, Harry ready to defend them both. A moment later Remus Lupin entered, wand already out, expression grim as he took in the room.
"Scabbers," Sirius said, voice raw. "The rat. He's not a rat. He's Peter Pettigrew. He didn't die... And he was the Secret Keeper."
Harry stared at the trembling animal in Ron's lap. Then he looked at Sirius.
"…You're saying this dipshit Peter Pettigrew is the one who actually betrayed my parents to death?"
"That's right, Harry," Sirius said."Yes," Remus confirmed quietly.
Harry was silent for a beat. Then he nodded once."
…All right.""Harry!" Ron yelped. "That's Sirius Black-!"
"If he was gonna kill me, he'd have done it by now," Harry said. "Enough wasting time. Reveal if the rat's a person."
"But Harry—"
"If they're wrong, it won't hurt him, right, Hermione?"
Hermione swallowed. "Right."
Harry looked at Ron. His voice dropped, flat and tired. "Ron… please. If this guy really did get my parents killed…"
Ron stared at him. His jaw worked. Then he gave a short, reluctant nod. "I get it."
Remus raised his wand. The spell hit Scabbers square on. The rat twisted, stretched, and expanded with a wet crack of bone and fur. A short, balding man in stained robes hit the floor on his hands and knees, gasping.
"Sirius—Remus—my old friends—" Peter began at once, voice high and desperate, already spinning a dozen excuses about being forced, about not having a choice, about how Voldemort would have killed him. None of it landed.
Sirius's wand stayed steady. Remus's face was stone.
Peter's eyes darted, found Ron, and latched on."R-Ron! Ron, wasn't I a good rat?"
Ron's answer came out as a raw hiss. "I let you sleep in my bed…!"
Peter flinched, then swung toward Hermione, hands half-raised. "Sweet girl, kind girl—!"
Hermione pulled back sharply, disgust clear on her face.Peter's gaze landed on Harry last. His voice cracked into something almost pleading.
"Harry—you—you have your mother's eyes—"
Harry's foot snapped up and caught him under the chin. Peter's head snapped back. Before he could recover, Harry was on him, fists already swinging. The first punch cracked across Peter's nose. The second drove into his ribs. Harry kept going—short, vicious blows, no wasted motion, no hesitation—until Peter was curled on the boards, arms over his head, blood on his teeth."GAHHH! PLEASE! MERCY!"
Sirius watched, wand still raised, but his mouth twitched. "Damn… he's got Lily's temper all right."
Remus's eyes stayed on the beating, expression unreadable. "And James' right hook."
Harry had Peter pinned against the floorboards, one hand fisted in the man's robes, the other drawn back for another blow. Blood was already on Peter's lip and Harry's knuckles.
Sirius and Remus stood over them, wands still raised, neither moving to stop it.
The air by the door shimmered. Snape pulled the Invisibility Cloak from his shoulders in one sharp motion, wand already out and aimed at Sirius.
"I should thank you, Potter, for—" He stopped. His eyes locked on the man beneath Harry. The wand dipped a fraction. "Is that Peter Pettigrew?"
"Snivellus—!" Sirius snarled, starting forward.
"Severus," Remus said quickly, stepping between them, "you should listen to us—"
Harry paused mid-swing. He looked up at Snape, breathing hard, and jerked his chin at the whimpering man under him.
"Snape. You know any spells suitable for making the piece of shite who got my parents murdered wish he was never born?"
Snape's gaze flicked from Peter's bloody face to Harry's. For a moment the only sound in the room was Peter's ragged breathing. Then Snape's mouth thinned.
"…Several."
Harry's grip on Peter's robes tightened.
"Good. I'd love to learn them."
---
The door of the Shrieking Shack creaked open. Sirius Black stepped through first, gaunt and wild-eyed, wand raised. Ron lay on the floorboards with his leg bent at a wrong angle, face white with pain. Hermione stood frozen beside him, Harry ready to defend them both. A moment later Remus Lupin entered, wand already out, expression grim as he took in the room.
"Scabbers," Sirius said, voice raw. "The rat. He's not a rat. He's Peter Pettigrew. He didn't die... And he was the Secret Keeper."
Harry stared at the trembling animal in Ron's lap. Then he looked at Sirius.
"…You're saying this dipshit Peter Pettigrew is the one who actually betrayed my parents to death?"
"That's right, Harry," Sirius said."Yes," Remus confirmed quietly.
Harry was silent for a beat. Then he nodded once."
…All right.""Harry!" Ron yelped. "That's Sirius Black-!"
"If he was gonna kill me, he'd have done it by now," Harry said. "Enough wasting time. Reveal if the rat's a person."
"But Harry—"
"If they're wrong, it won't hurt him, right, Hermione?"
Hermione swallowed. "Right."
Harry looked at Ron. His voice dropped, flat and tired. "Ron… please. If this guy really did get my parents killed…"
Ron stared at him. His jaw worked. Then he gave a short, reluctant nod. "I get it."
Remus raised his wand. The spell hit Scabbers square on. The rat twisted, stretched, and expanded with a wet crack of bone and fur. A short, balding man in stained robes hit the floor on his hands and knees, gasping.
"Sirius—Remus—my old friends—" Peter began at once, voice high and desperate, already spinning a dozen excuses about being forced, about not having a choice, about how Voldemort would have killed him. None of it landed.
Sirius's wand stayed steady. Remus's face was stone.
Peter's eyes darted, found Ron, and latched on."R-Ron! Ron, wasn't I a good rat?"
Ron's answer came out as a raw hiss. "I let you sleep in my bed…!"
Peter flinched, then swung toward Hermione, hands half-raised. "Sweet girl, kind girl—!"
Hermione pulled back sharply, disgust clear on her face.Peter's gaze landed on Harry last. His voice cracked into something almost pleading.
"Harry—you—you have your mother's eyes—"
Harry's foot snapped up and caught him under the chin. Peter's head snapped back. Before he could recover, Harry was on him, fists already swinging. The first punch cracked across Peter's nose. The second drove into his ribs. Harry kept going—short, vicious blows, no wasted motion, no hesitation—until Peter was curled on the boards, arms over his head, blood on his teeth."GAHHH! PLEASE! MERCY!"
Sirius watched, wand still raised, but his mouth twitched. "Damn… he's got Lily's temper all right."
Remus's eyes stayed on the beating, expression unreadable. "And James' right hook."
Harry had Peter pinned against the floorboards, one hand fisted in the man's robes, the other drawn back for another blow. Blood was already on Peter's lip and Harry's knuckles.
Sirius and Remus stood over them, wands still raised, neither moving to stop it.
The air by the door shimmered. Snape pulled the Invisibility Cloak from his shoulders in one sharp motion, wand already out and aimed at Sirius.
"I should thank you, Potter, for—" He stopped. His eyes locked on the man beneath Harry. The wand dipped a fraction. "Is that Peter Pettigrew?"
"Snivellus—!" Sirius snarled, starting forward.
"Severus," Remus said quickly, stepping between them, "you should listen to us—"
Harry paused mid-swing. He looked up at Snape, breathing hard, and jerked his chin at the whimpering man under him.
"Snape. You know any spells suitable for making the piece of shite who got my parents murdered wish he was never born?"
Snape's gaze flicked from Peter's bloody face to Harry's. For a moment the only sound in the room was Peter's ragged breathing. Then Snape's mouth thinned.
"…Several."
Harry's grip on Peter's robes tightened.
"Good. I'd love to learn them."
Chermo
Know what you're doing yet?
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Isn't learning fun?
GameJunkie999
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Snape is definitely having Flashbacks to when he and Lily were young and shespent her time smacking the piss outta people (It would bve funny if Lily was the vviolent one between her and james.)
Harry the Delinquent 5
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AJ_Talon
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Set in The Sorcerer's/Philosopher's Stone.
---
Harry had only been at Hogwarts a few weeks when he overheard Dean Thomas talking Quidditch with Seamus. The conversation drifted, as it sometimes did, into the Muggle sport Dean still followed.
"West Ham, obviously," Dean said. "My dad's been taking me since I was little."
Harry looked up from his Charms essay. "West Ham?"
Dean nodded. "Yeah. You follow anyone?"
"Millwall."
Dean blinked.
"Millwall? Seriously?"
"Yeah." Harry set his quill down. "And anyone who supports West Ham is either a poof or a moron. Usually both."
The common room went quiet. Dean's chair scraped back.
"Say that again."
Harry stood.
"You heard me."
Dean swung first. Harry ducked under it and drove a short, ugly punch into Dean's ribs. They went down together in a tangle of limbs and elbows, Seamus shouting and Ron yelling for them to knock it off while the rest of the first-years scrambled out of the way. By the time McGonagall's voice cut across the room, both of them were bleeding and neither looked particularly sorry.
---
Harry had only been at Hogwarts a few weeks when he overheard Dean Thomas talking Quidditch with Seamus. The conversation drifted, as it sometimes did, into the Muggle sport Dean still followed.
"West Ham, obviously," Dean said. "My dad's been taking me since I was little."
Harry looked up from his Charms essay. "West Ham?"
Dean nodded. "Yeah. You follow anyone?"
"Millwall."
Dean blinked.
"Millwall? Seriously?"
"Yeah." Harry set his quill down. "And anyone who supports West Ham is either a poof or a moron. Usually both."
The common room went quiet. Dean's chair scraped back.
"Say that again."
Harry stood.
"You heard me."
Dean swung first. Harry ducked under it and drove a short, ugly punch into Dean's ribs. They went down together in a tangle of limbs and elbows, Seamus shouting and Ron yelling for them to knock it off while the rest of the first-years scrambled out of the way. By the time McGonagall's voice cut across the room, both of them were bleeding and neither looked particularly sorry.
bazerkerking
I trust you know where the happy button is?
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Yep. God bless 'em every one
Malfoid: Flirt 19
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AJ_Talon
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The next morning, Harry tried to call Sirius to tell him about the Tournament. The mirror didn't activate though. So he stopped by the owlery to see Hedwig, wrote out a quick note to Sirius, and had his girl send it. Hegwig was still a bit annoyed, and honestly Harry wouldn't have used her if he didn't have a choice, but he knew Hedwig would get the message there. She gnawed a bit harder on his fingers than necessary, but she still nuzzled hims affectionately and took off with the message.
Down at breakfast, Harry felt the looks and whispers of everyone in the Great Hall more sharply than usual. Hermione and Ron walked alongside him. Justin Finch-Fletchley stood near the open doors with a few other Hufflepuffs. They all scowled as they passed.
"Needed more glory, Potter?"
Harry grit his teeth.
"Ignore him," Hermione said, low.
"Bugger off, Finch-Fletchley!" Ron snapped. "He saved your life, ya know!"
"Did he? I think Madam Pomfrey did that. And what's with you cozying up to Slytherins? Especially Malfoy? The one who was cheering on the basilisk?"
Ron's fists clenched. Harry felt a surge of anger rise hot under his ribs. Hermione caught both their arms.
"Don't…!"
"Aren't you upset, Granger?" Justin went on. "Your boytoys stolen by snakes? Guess they got tired of pretending you were a girl!"
Ron turned, ears red. Harry turned with him, rage boiling. Hermione's hair bushed out as she tried to tug them back—
Crabbe and Goyle stepped between the Gryffindors and the Ravenclaws, their arms crossed over their broad chests. Lyra and Daphne came up beside them, Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang with them. Lyra's usual venomous smirk was locked in place, but her eyes were blazing.
"Why, Cedric," she said, bright and cutting. "Did you hear what he was saying?"
Cedric's glare was steady. "I did."
"C-Cedric! Look, I was just—!"
"Harry." Cedric's voice was calm. "Tell him what you told Dumbledore."
"I didn't put my name in the Goblet. I don't want to be in the Triwizard. I never did."
Cedric nodded. "And Dumbledore believes him. You want to question Dumbledore, Justin?"
Cho's scowl matched his.
"…No."
Cedric turned to Harry. "So, Harry… I'm sorry you're stuck in this."
"I didn't want to steal your glory, Cedric. Honest."
Cedric smiled. "I know. So… just means I have to beat you, Krum, and Delacour, huh? Little more difficult, but… I think I can. I don't quite have the résumé you do, but I'm willing to give it my best."
Harry managed a smile back. Some of the tightness in his chest eased. "Haha… well… I think you can, too."
Cedric offered his hand. Harry blinked, then took it.
"But… don't let me win too easily, huh, Harry? Let's all do our best."
"…Yeah. Yeah, I—I will."
They shook. Cho smiled warmly, then turned a sharp look on Justin. He flinched.
"Five points from Hufflepuff, Finch-Fletchley. And I'll make it more if you keep this up."
"…Fine."
He and his hangers-on slunk away toward their table. Cho took Cedric's arm and they headed off as well… And strangely, Harry felt only the tiniest pang over that. He wasn't sure how to feel about it.
Lyra looked over at her henchmen.
"Good work, Goyle, Crabbe. Off to the table with you."
The two looked concerned. Goyle tried to talk.
"Er, but Malfoy—"
"The table. Keep up your strength and eat, huh? I'll be just fine with Potter."
They headed off, shooting Lyra strange looks but obeying. Lyra then took Harry's arm.
"Well? Escort me to breakfast, Potter."
Her smile warmed. Harry went along with it, still a little shocked.
"How—?"
"I said I was going to help you, Potter. We're not having any of that nonsense from second year going around. And a fistfight with some Muggle-born snot—"
Hermione cleared her throat. Lyra sneered.
"What? He is. Anyway, having a fistfight with him isn't worth it."
"We weren't gonna fight!" Ron said.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course not."
"We believe you, Ron," Daphne said.
"Really?"
"No," Daphne and Hermione said. They then glared at one another.
Harry worked his jaw and said softly, "Thank you."
Lyra flushed and smiled as they sat down at the Gryffindor table. "Well, it might not end all the rumors but at least we're ahead of the curve. I've got Pansy on it."
Harry raised an eyebrow as he started in on his eggs. "Oh? What's she doing?"
Lyra rolled her eyes.
"I just told her to spread the rumor that the Headmaster put you in because he didn't want the year to be boring."
Harry shook his head. Ron blinked. Daphne hummed. Hermione scowled.
"Seriously?" Hermione demanded. "Who would believe that?!"
There was the flash of a camera bulb. Harry and Lyra both blinked the spots out of their eyes, revealing Colin Creevey. The young Muggleborn grinned.
"Amazing, Harry! Your turned your greatest rival into your girlfriend and you got entered into the Triwizard to stop You-Know-Who! You're amazing!"
"Uh…" Harry stared at Lyra, who smirked.
"Don't let it get around," she said with a wink. Colin nodded, and made a zipping motion over his mouth.
"I won't! Wow!" He ran off.
Lyra smirked at Ron and Hermione.
"This is why it's useful to have a Slytherin on your side," she said, squeezing Harry's arm. He smiled.
"It… Sure is," he said.
Ron felt Daphne squeeze his hand. He coughed at Hermione's scowl.
"What? It's helping!" He said.
"Sure is," Hermione muttered, scowling at the serene Daphne.
The twins sat down across from them, looking depressed. Hermione stared.
"What's with you?"
"Dumbledore beat us again," Fred sighed, "We wanted to say he'd put Harry into the Triwizard to spice things up, but that's already all over the school."
George groaned.
"What do we have to do to get some chaos with our name on it around here?"
Lyra looked over at the Slytherin table, and Harry followed her gaze. Pansy waved with a smug little smile.
"That was my doing," Lyra said. The twins groaned.
"Why are you so determined to cause chaos anyway?" Hermione sniffed, "It's not doing your grades any good."
"She sounds like Mum," Fred muttered.
"No wonder Ron likes her so much," George added. "Bit of Oedipus going on."
"Or he just likes women bossing him around."
Ron flushed brightly, as did Hermione.
"I-I do not-!" He tried. Daphne hummed.
"Should I be more bossy to ensure he never strays? Ron, you have not kissed me enough this morning. You must change that immediately."
Ron flushed. Hermione scowled.
"Don't you dare, Ronald Weasley-" Hermione started, before Daphne interrupted.
"Dare to do so, Ronald Billius Weasley."
Ron leaned in to kiss her. Hermione growled in annoyance. Lyra snickered, and Harry sighed.
The twins grinned and fist bumped.
They still got it.
---
Care of Magical Creatures was still tense. Hagrid believed Harry, but the Hufflepuffs in the class gave him the gimlet eye. There was muttering about Potter stealing Cedric's thunder, despite what had happened in the Great Hall. The Blast-Ended Skrewts had begun to grow. No longer shell-less and colorless, they had developed a kind of thick, grayish, shiny armor. They looked like a cross between giant scorpions and elongated crabs—still without recognizable heads or eyes—and they shot fireballs from both ends.
Potions was a respite, for the most part. Snape was not quite as beastly as usual, but he was still himself. He did not let Harry pair with Lyra. He paired him with Nott instead, who was belligerent from the first slice of root.
"Seriously, Potter," Nott muttered as he measured out the powdered asphodel. "Gotta stick your nose where it's not wanted? Take what's not yours?"
Harry kept his eyes on the instructions. "…Are you jealous of me and Lyra?"
Nott's knife paused. He growled. "My father said we would be wed."
"Well, I don't care what your father says." Harry's voice stayed even. "I killed his boss. Twice."
Nott's hand moved toward his wand—
The door opened. Colin Creevey stood in the frame, out of breath.
Snape's sneer arrived on schedule. "Yes, Creevey? What is it?"
"Um, sorry, Professor, but it's time for the weighing of the wands! Harry needs to be there!"
Snape huffed. "Potter, twelve inches on the potion of today. Your friends can catch you up. You had better present a proper potion next time or you'll fail the entire day, understood?"
Harry blinked. That was almost fair, for Snape. "Yes, sir."
"I'll go with him," Lyra said.
"Miss Malfoy, you will not—"
"Under the Triwizard Tournament rules," she said, glancing at Hermione, her partner for the day, who gave a small nod, "Potter can have a representative to assist him with bureaucratic duties in regard to the Tournament and cannot be hindered. It may be considered breach of magical contract… which is not kind to those who interfere."
Snape's mouth thinned. "I am aware. Very well, Potter. You can work with Malfoy on the potion later."
"Thank you, Professor."
Snape's gaze may have softened a fraction, or it may have been a trick of the light. "Then get out of here, both of you."
Harry collected his things and headed out. He shot a grateful look at Hermione. She smiled, encouraging. Lyra came up beside him and took his arm, guiding him into the corridor.
"Your little bookworm is quite handy at times."
"Lyra…"
She flushed. "Well, she is. I didn't call her anything more hurtful."
"I know. Still… thank you, Lyra."
"You're welcome. Anything to get you away from Nott."
"What? Afraid he'd hurt me?"
"Certainly not. I'm afraid you'd destroy him, and how would that look? Fighting such an inferior opponent. Hmph."
Harry chuckled. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
"You're my boyfriend. You always get it."
They walked on, her hand still on his arm, the noise of the dungeon fading behind them as they headed toward the weighing of the wands.
Down at breakfast, Harry felt the looks and whispers of everyone in the Great Hall more sharply than usual. Hermione and Ron walked alongside him. Justin Finch-Fletchley stood near the open doors with a few other Hufflepuffs. They all scowled as they passed.
"Needed more glory, Potter?"
Harry grit his teeth.
"Ignore him," Hermione said, low.
"Bugger off, Finch-Fletchley!" Ron snapped. "He saved your life, ya know!"
"Did he? I think Madam Pomfrey did that. And what's with you cozying up to Slytherins? Especially Malfoy? The one who was cheering on the basilisk?"
Ron's fists clenched. Harry felt a surge of anger rise hot under his ribs. Hermione caught both their arms.
"Don't…!"
"Aren't you upset, Granger?" Justin went on. "Your boytoys stolen by snakes? Guess they got tired of pretending you were a girl!"
Ron turned, ears red. Harry turned with him, rage boiling. Hermione's hair bushed out as she tried to tug them back—
Crabbe and Goyle stepped between the Gryffindors and the Ravenclaws, their arms crossed over their broad chests. Lyra and Daphne came up beside them, Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang with them. Lyra's usual venomous smirk was locked in place, but her eyes were blazing.
"Why, Cedric," she said, bright and cutting. "Did you hear what he was saying?"
Cedric's glare was steady. "I did."
"C-Cedric! Look, I was just—!"
"Harry." Cedric's voice was calm. "Tell him what you told Dumbledore."
"I didn't put my name in the Goblet. I don't want to be in the Triwizard. I never did."
Cedric nodded. "And Dumbledore believes him. You want to question Dumbledore, Justin?"
Cho's scowl matched his.
"…No."
Cedric turned to Harry. "So, Harry… I'm sorry you're stuck in this."
"I didn't want to steal your glory, Cedric. Honest."
Cedric smiled. "I know. So… just means I have to beat you, Krum, and Delacour, huh? Little more difficult, but… I think I can. I don't quite have the résumé you do, but I'm willing to give it my best."
Harry managed a smile back. Some of the tightness in his chest eased. "Haha… well… I think you can, too."
Cedric offered his hand. Harry blinked, then took it.
"But… don't let me win too easily, huh, Harry? Let's all do our best."
"…Yeah. Yeah, I—I will."
They shook. Cho smiled warmly, then turned a sharp look on Justin. He flinched.
"Five points from Hufflepuff, Finch-Fletchley. And I'll make it more if you keep this up."
"…Fine."
He and his hangers-on slunk away toward their table. Cho took Cedric's arm and they headed off as well… And strangely, Harry felt only the tiniest pang over that. He wasn't sure how to feel about it.
Lyra looked over at her henchmen.
"Good work, Goyle, Crabbe. Off to the table with you."
The two looked concerned. Goyle tried to talk.
"Er, but Malfoy—"
"The table. Keep up your strength and eat, huh? I'll be just fine with Potter."
They headed off, shooting Lyra strange looks but obeying. Lyra then took Harry's arm.
"Well? Escort me to breakfast, Potter."
Her smile warmed. Harry went along with it, still a little shocked.
"How—?"
"I said I was going to help you, Potter. We're not having any of that nonsense from second year going around. And a fistfight with some Muggle-born snot—"
Hermione cleared her throat. Lyra sneered.
"What? He is. Anyway, having a fistfight with him isn't worth it."
"We weren't gonna fight!" Ron said.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course not."
"We believe you, Ron," Daphne said.
"Really?"
"No," Daphne and Hermione said. They then glared at one another.
Harry worked his jaw and said softly, "Thank you."
Lyra flushed and smiled as they sat down at the Gryffindor table. "Well, it might not end all the rumors but at least we're ahead of the curve. I've got Pansy on it."
Harry raised an eyebrow as he started in on his eggs. "Oh? What's she doing?"
Lyra rolled her eyes.
"I just told her to spread the rumor that the Headmaster put you in because he didn't want the year to be boring."
Harry shook his head. Ron blinked. Daphne hummed. Hermione scowled.
"Seriously?" Hermione demanded. "Who would believe that?!"
There was the flash of a camera bulb. Harry and Lyra both blinked the spots out of their eyes, revealing Colin Creevey. The young Muggleborn grinned.
"Amazing, Harry! Your turned your greatest rival into your girlfriend and you got entered into the Triwizard to stop You-Know-Who! You're amazing!"
"Uh…" Harry stared at Lyra, who smirked.
"Don't let it get around," she said with a wink. Colin nodded, and made a zipping motion over his mouth.
"I won't! Wow!" He ran off.
Lyra smirked at Ron and Hermione.
"This is why it's useful to have a Slytherin on your side," she said, squeezing Harry's arm. He smiled.
"It… Sure is," he said.
Ron felt Daphne squeeze his hand. He coughed at Hermione's scowl.
"What? It's helping!" He said.
"Sure is," Hermione muttered, scowling at the serene Daphne.
The twins sat down across from them, looking depressed. Hermione stared.
"What's with you?"
"Dumbledore beat us again," Fred sighed, "We wanted to say he'd put Harry into the Triwizard to spice things up, but that's already all over the school."
George groaned.
"What do we have to do to get some chaos with our name on it around here?"
Lyra looked over at the Slytherin table, and Harry followed her gaze. Pansy waved with a smug little smile.
"That was my doing," Lyra said. The twins groaned.
"Why are you so determined to cause chaos anyway?" Hermione sniffed, "It's not doing your grades any good."
"She sounds like Mum," Fred muttered.
"No wonder Ron likes her so much," George added. "Bit of Oedipus going on."
"Or he just likes women bossing him around."
Ron flushed brightly, as did Hermione.
"I-I do not-!" He tried. Daphne hummed.
"Should I be more bossy to ensure he never strays? Ron, you have not kissed me enough this morning. You must change that immediately."
Ron flushed. Hermione scowled.
"Don't you dare, Ronald Weasley-" Hermione started, before Daphne interrupted.
"Dare to do so, Ronald Billius Weasley."
Ron leaned in to kiss her. Hermione growled in annoyance. Lyra snickered, and Harry sighed.
The twins grinned and fist bumped.
They still got it.
---
Care of Magical Creatures was still tense. Hagrid believed Harry, but the Hufflepuffs in the class gave him the gimlet eye. There was muttering about Potter stealing Cedric's thunder, despite what had happened in the Great Hall. The Blast-Ended Skrewts had begun to grow. No longer shell-less and colorless, they had developed a kind of thick, grayish, shiny armor. They looked like a cross between giant scorpions and elongated crabs—still without recognizable heads or eyes—and they shot fireballs from both ends.
Potions was a respite, for the most part. Snape was not quite as beastly as usual, but he was still himself. He did not let Harry pair with Lyra. He paired him with Nott instead, who was belligerent from the first slice of root.
"Seriously, Potter," Nott muttered as he measured out the powdered asphodel. "Gotta stick your nose where it's not wanted? Take what's not yours?"
Harry kept his eyes on the instructions. "…Are you jealous of me and Lyra?"
Nott's knife paused. He growled. "My father said we would be wed."
"Well, I don't care what your father says." Harry's voice stayed even. "I killed his boss. Twice."
Nott's hand moved toward his wand—
The door opened. Colin Creevey stood in the frame, out of breath.
Snape's sneer arrived on schedule. "Yes, Creevey? What is it?"
"Um, sorry, Professor, but it's time for the weighing of the wands! Harry needs to be there!"
Snape huffed. "Potter, twelve inches on the potion of today. Your friends can catch you up. You had better present a proper potion next time or you'll fail the entire day, understood?"
Harry blinked. That was almost fair, for Snape. "Yes, sir."
"I'll go with him," Lyra said.
"Miss Malfoy, you will not—"
"Under the Triwizard Tournament rules," she said, glancing at Hermione, her partner for the day, who gave a small nod, "Potter can have a representative to assist him with bureaucratic duties in regard to the Tournament and cannot be hindered. It may be considered breach of magical contract… which is not kind to those who interfere."
Snape's mouth thinned. "I am aware. Very well, Potter. You can work with Malfoy on the potion later."
"Thank you, Professor."
Snape's gaze may have softened a fraction, or it may have been a trick of the light. "Then get out of here, both of you."
Harry collected his things and headed out. He shot a grateful look at Hermione. She smiled, encouraging. Lyra came up beside him and took his arm, guiding him into the corridor.
"Your little bookworm is quite handy at times."
"Lyra…"
She flushed. "Well, she is. I didn't call her anything more hurtful."
"I know. Still… thank you, Lyra."
"You're welcome. Anything to get you away from Nott."
"What? Afraid he'd hurt me?"
"Certainly not. I'm afraid you'd destroy him, and how would that look? Fighting such an inferior opponent. Hmph."
Harry chuckled. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
"You're my boyfriend. You always get it."
They walked on, her hand still on his arm, the noise of the dungeon fading behind them as they headed toward the weighing of the wands.
Kinematics
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These are the names that I have seen being used for variants of Malfoid:
Draco
Draca
Draconia
Dracolina
Dracaena
Dracena
Draceana
Dracélia
Carina
Lyra
Lucia
Electra
Octavia
Cassiopeia
Simply reusing Draco is not horrible, but not great, given you want to be able to distinguish between the characters. The more feminized Draconia is what I tend to go for.
Dracaena shows up for those who want a similar-sounding word, but with actual meaning. (The meaning itself being a type of plant is kind of lame, though.) Dracena and Draceana come from those who think Dracaena has a middle syllable of -see- instead of -kay-.
Lyra and Lucia come from attempts to derive somewhat from her father's name — Lucius.
Still, I wanted to find something more mythological, but more closely linked to the original name of Draco. So...
Draco comes from the constellation of Draco. There are a couple origin stories for it, but the one I like is the dragon who guarded the Garden of the Hesperides — the garden of the goddess Hera — who was killed by Heracles during his task of retrieving the Golden Apples. However, as a legendary guardian dragon, it could hint at what Lucius was hoping Draco to represent for the future.
The Hesperides were nymphs who tended the garden, with a name originating as "from the west/evening", and eventually morphs to Venus (through Hesperos/Vesper), the Evening Star. One potential name thus arises from using the tenders of the garden rather than the guardian: Vesper/Venus. This would suggest a hope for nurturing the future rather than protecting it.
But we can also go a bit further, and return to the golden apples. These are the same as what was used by Eris in the incident that triggered the Trojan War — the golden Apple of Discord, also referred to as Kallisti ([for] The Fairest). And I do like this one, as Kallisti represented a choice of great consequence — exactly what Malfoid is for Harry. It can also take a shortened form with Kalli or Kallia, meaning "beautiful".
Then, of course, there are the naming conventions of the Black family — Narcissa's original family — which use stars as their names. Daughter of Cygnus, sister of Bellatrix and Andromeda, cousin of Sirius, etc. Given that Draco was named after a constellation, it's reasonable to assume a female version of Draco would also use an astronomical name like the Blacks favored, vs whatever theme the Malfoys themselves traditionally used.
The problem is that there are thousands of options to choose from, and no particular gimmick to base a choice on. For example, I might pick Eltanin, the brightest star in the Draco constellation. However Eltanin isn't based on a name, and thus doesn't have any particular feminine meaning (unlike, say, Bellatrix or Andromeda).
Digging into this actually explains the choice for Electra in one of the stories I read. Electra is one of the seven Pleiades sisters, and one of about 20 stars named after women. I'd agree it's probably one of the most "comfortable" names from that list (ie: it feels like a modern female name at least a little), even if it feels a bit off.
Phonetically, though, moving between L's and R's (eg: ELectRa MaLfoy, LyRa MaLfoy, VespeR MaLfoy, etc) is really awkward, so I'm disinclined towards it.
Overall, I'm leaning towards names that end in "ia", and three in particular: Draconia, Dracelia, and Kallia. Draconia easily correlates with the original Draco, but feels a bit 'harsh'. Dracelia softens the tones, but doesn't have any particular meaning. Kallia keeps the softer tones, while linking (indirectly) to the mythological origins for Draco, and hinting at the romantic chaos she represents.
For discussion I'll probably continue using Draconia, but for writing I think I'm going to pick Kallia, at least tentatively.
Draco
Draca
Draconia
Dracolina
Dracaena
Dracena
Draceana
Dracélia
Carina
Lyra
Lucia
Electra
Octavia
Cassiopeia
Simply reusing Draco is not horrible, but not great, given you want to be able to distinguish between the characters. The more feminized Draconia is what I tend to go for.
Dracaena shows up for those who want a similar-sounding word, but with actual meaning. (The meaning itself being a type of plant is kind of lame, though.) Dracena and Draceana come from those who think Dracaena has a middle syllable of -see- instead of -kay-.
Lyra and Lucia come from attempts to derive somewhat from her father's name — Lucius.
Still, I wanted to find something more mythological, but more closely linked to the original name of Draco. So...
Draco comes from the constellation of Draco. There are a couple origin stories for it, but the one I like is the dragon who guarded the Garden of the Hesperides — the garden of the goddess Hera — who was killed by Heracles during his task of retrieving the Golden Apples. However, as a legendary guardian dragon, it could hint at what Lucius was hoping Draco to represent for the future.
The Hesperides were nymphs who tended the garden, with a name originating as "from the west/evening", and eventually morphs to Venus (through Hesperos/Vesper), the Evening Star. One potential name thus arises from using the tenders of the garden rather than the guardian: Vesper/Venus. This would suggest a hope for nurturing the future rather than protecting it.
But we can also go a bit further, and return to the golden apples. These are the same as what was used by Eris in the incident that triggered the Trojan War — the golden Apple of Discord, also referred to as Kallisti ([for] The Fairest). And I do like this one, as Kallisti represented a choice of great consequence — exactly what Malfoid is for Harry. It can also take a shortened form with Kalli or Kallia, meaning "beautiful".
Then, of course, there are the naming conventions of the Black family — Narcissa's original family — which use stars as their names. Daughter of Cygnus, sister of Bellatrix and Andromeda, cousin of Sirius, etc. Given that Draco was named after a constellation, it's reasonable to assume a female version of Draco would also use an astronomical name like the Blacks favored, vs whatever theme the Malfoys themselves traditionally used.
The problem is that there are thousands of options to choose from, and no particular gimmick to base a choice on. For example, I might pick Eltanin, the brightest star in the Draco constellation. However Eltanin isn't based on a name, and thus doesn't have any particular feminine meaning (unlike, say, Bellatrix or Andromeda).
Digging into this actually explains the choice for Electra in one of the stories I read. Electra is one of the seven Pleiades sisters, and one of about 20 stars named after women. I'd agree it's probably one of the most "comfortable" names from that list (ie: it feels like a modern female name at least a little), even if it feels a bit off.
Phonetically, though, moving between L's and R's (eg: ELectRa MaLfoy, LyRa MaLfoy, VespeR MaLfoy, etc) is really awkward, so I'm disinclined towards it.
Overall, I'm leaning towards names that end in "ia", and three in particular: Draconia, Dracelia, and Kallia. Draconia easily correlates with the original Draco, but feels a bit 'harsh'. Dracelia softens the tones, but doesn't have any particular meaning. Kallia keeps the softer tones, while linking (indirectly) to the mythological origins for Draco, and hinting at the romantic chaos she represents.
For discussion I'll probably continue using Draconia, but for writing I think I'm going to pick Kallia, at least tentatively.
Last edited:
Malfoid: Flirt 20
New
AJ_Talon
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The meeting room near Dumbledore's office was wide and bright, with tall windows that caught the morning light. It was clearly meant for photography. The other champions were already there. Krum stood with Karkaroff, who gave Lyra and Harry a short, cool nod. Cedric stood beside Dumbledore and offered Harry an encouraging smile; Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. Madame Maxime's expression was distinctly unimpressed. Fleur watched Harry with open intensity. He felt the faint, slippery tug of her presence and tightened his grip on Lyra's hand until it faded. Ludo Bagman sat near a witch in magenta robes, beaming as if the entire morning had been arranged for his benefit.
Bagman rose the moment he saw them. "Harry! There you are! Wonderful, wonderful—come in, come in!"
The witch in magenta moved with him, photographer already in tow. She extended a hand and a bright, professional smile.
"Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet. I was hoping for a few words with you, Harry—just to add a bit of color to the article."
Lyra's smile was warm, elegant, and immediate. "Why aren't you interviewing the other champions, Miss Skeeter?"
Rita's smile widened, affable. "Well, Harry is the most unexpected! And he's already famous—"
"Then an interview may be on the table," Lyra said, still pleasant. "At a time of his choosing."
"Why not now?"
"Potter is much too busy today. You'll need to make an appointment. I'm sure my father can arrange it."
"But you're clearly so close to Harry. Can't I just ask you directly?"
Lyra's smile remained genteel. "So sorry, Rita, but as you know, I'm an heiress. My school workload is just as heavy as Potter's, if not more so. And we have a lot to do."
"Surely just a few minutes is all I would need! After all, you don't want your relationship with Potter being presented to the world in a bad way, do you? By some hack journalist only after sensation?"
"Whatever kind of relationship are you talking about, Rita?" Lyra's smile sharpened at the edges. "And whatever have you been hearing?"
Rita actually took a small step back. "Ah, well… you know, I do hear things from time to time. Just doing my job."
"Really? Well, remember the Goblin Rule of Acquisition 190: Hear all, trust nothing."
"Yes, of course, but… wouldn't you prefer to control the narrative on how this comes out? There are rumors flying about already. Don't you want to set the record straight?"
Lyra hummed, considering, then glanced at Harry. "I suppose that is a good point." She turned the charming smile back on Rita. "And thankfully we have a trustworthy reporter here. What do you say, Potter? It's your choice how you want to proceed."
The speed of the exchange had left Harry slightly behind. He knew Rita Skeeter's name. She had written several unpleasant pieces about Arthur Weasley. Lyra, however, looked entirely at ease. She squeezed his hand once, a small, questioning pressure.
He nodded, slow. "I suppose we could do that."
"Wonderful!" Rita brightened. "Perhaps in private—"
"I will be with Potter in every interview," Lyra said, all smiles. "I am assisting him in the Triwizard, after all."
"Perfectly acceptable, yes!"
Bagman clapped his hands together, delighted by the entire exchange. Cedric caught Harry's eye across the room and gave a small, sympathetic shrug. Fleur's gaze lingered a moment longer before she turned back toward Madame Maxime. Harry kept Lyra's hand in his and decided, firmly, that he was glad she had come.
The photoshoot went fairly well. Each champion was photographed with their headmaster beneath a banner of their school and house, then together as a group. Rita kept trying to position Harry at the front. Lyra countered, calmly, that every champion should have a turn in the center. Dumbledore agreed. Rita allowed it with visible reluctance.
Harry watched Lyra work and felt a quiet, unexpected admiration. She had been nasty and unpleasant to him and others for years, but when she chose to be, she could be sweet, charming, and entirely in command of a room. Part of him liked it. He was not entirely sure why.
At last Bagman laughed and shook each champion's hand in turn.
"Good show, good show! This will be a Triwizard—or Quadwizard—to remember! Won't it, Headmaster?"
"Quite." Dumbledore was still smiling, but the expression looked a little brittle at the edges.
Rita moved forward, quill already in hand. "So… since I'm here, would there be time for an interview with Harry, Lyra?"
Lyra's smile was bright. "But of course. Let's just walk over here and arrange the details. I won't be a moment, Harry."
She led Rita a short distance away, out of easy earshot. Harry turned to Dumbledore. The headmaster moved with him toward the far corner of the room. Only then did Harry speak, voice low.
"Headmaster? Have you found anything yet?"
Dumbledore glanced toward Rita. The ordinary noise of the room seemed to dampen around them.
"Not as yet, Harry. I do apologize for that. We've only had a day to work on it."
"O-oh. I guess that makes sense. Sorry."
"Not at all." Dumbledore's smile was gentle. "We want answers just as badly as you do. We're trying to find them. For the moment, I suggest you stay focused. Your friends will help you, and so will the professors. You just need to ask."
"Thank you, Professor."
"Don't mention it. I do wish I could have given you a quiet year, Harry."
"Yeah, well…" Harry shrugged. "I'm starting to think that's not an option for me."
Dumbledore's smile turned wry and a little sad. "Perhaps. But it hasn't been all bad, has it?"
Harry glanced across the room. Lyra was still speaking with Rita, posture easy, one hand lightly gesturing. He flushed and smiled, small.
"No."
"That's the best way to see things."
The ambient sound of the room returned just as Lyra and Rita walked back to them.
"Potter," Lyra said, "Rita wants to do an interview with you. I will be with you at all times… and she'll be using a quill I choose."
"Why, Lyra!" Rita's smile was bright and slightly strained. "Don't you trust me?"
"I trust you a bit more than I would trust any other reporter, Rita." Lyra's smile never wavered. Rita winced, just a fraction. "But it is still your choice, Potter."
Harry glanced at Dumbledore. The headmaster's eyes twinkled and offered nothing more. Harry looked back at Lyra and Rita, then nodded slowly.
"All right. Let's do this."
Rita headed out, her photographer lingering a moment longer before following. Harry and Lyra went after her. Rita spotted a broom closet along the corridor and brightened.
"Aha! How about in here—?"
Lyra's smirk was tiny and precise. "Rita, I am sure you're very familiar with the broom closets at Hogwarts, but we would prefer something more open."
Harry stared. Rita looked briefly shocked, then recovered.
"Yes, well—"
"Empty classroom, over there." Lyra's tone left no room for argument.
They went. The classroom was full of unused desks and chairs. Harry pulled two over for himself and Lyra. Rita took her own and sat facing them. Lyra handed her a quill. Rita set to writing at once.
"So, Harry. How did you get your name into the Goblet?"
"I didn't. Someone else did."
"Do you know who?"
He shrugged. "Well, a former supporter of Voldemort's—" He caught their winces and coughed. "I mean, You-Know-Who is my best guess."
"Now, Harry, he's been gone a long time—"
"And his supporters are still around." A note of irritation slipped through. Lyra squeezed his hand. He settled.
Rita noticed.
"And what about You-Know-Who? What are your feelings towards him?"
Harry blinked. The question was bizarre and infuriating. He kept his temper and answered with sarcasm.
"I mean… he's trying to kill me. He killed my family. How should I feel about that?"
Lyra squeezed his hand again. He drew a breath.
"Let's stick to the present time, Rita, shall we?" Lyra said.
Rita's eyes lit. "Of course! Tell me: is Lyra Malfoy your girlfriend now?"
"Ah, well… y-yes. Yes, she is."
"Weren't you rivals before?"
"We were…"
Lyra's smirk was small. "Still are. Once we get back to Quidditch, I'm going to defeat you."
Harry's eyes narrowed before he caught the tiny wink. For a moment Rita did not seem to register it.
"Oh, I don't think so. You never have before."
"Things do change, Potter." She smirked. "Maybe you'll slip up."
"That's the only way you might win. Might."
She flushed and huffed, nose in the air. "Or maybe I'll just get better than you."
"Not a chance."
"You're so sure?"
"Yes, I am…"
They had leaned closer without quite meaning to. Rita's quill moved furiously. Lyra laughed, soft.
"Well, let's get you through the Triwizard first, shall we? One step at a time."
"I…" He nodded, feeling slightly stupid. "Yeah, I guess so…"
"Oh, you two have such marvelous chemistry!" Rita beamed. "Tell me, how did your father react when he found out?"
Lyra's smile was wide and perfect. "He couldn't have been happier for us."
She handled most of the rest of the interview after that, Harry chiming in only when needed. When the bells rang, they both stood.
"You'll have to excuse us, Rita. Class calls."
"Of course, of course! Wonderful interview! Thank you so much! And best of luck, Harry, Lyra!"
She left in a rush of magenta. Lyra waved her wand and sealed the door. She sighed, sat, and rubbed her temple.
"That woman is exhausting."
Harry sat beside her and nodded. "Yeah… still… are you sure about giving her… all those details?"
"Better we give her something like this than let her make up whatever she wants. She's done that to my father a few times—made up stories and innuendos just close enough to the truth to not be grounds for libel. She's all about sensation and drama."
"Still…"
"It is better to make sure she prints only what we want than to let her run roughshod over your reputation. Especially in this situation." She huffed. "I'm just trying to help."
He took her hand and met her eyes. "You are. You are. I'm just… I've never thought about publicity before. And, well… I'm glad you're around to help me."
She smiled. "You'd better be…"
He shrugged, slow. "And, well… I'm not exactly used to you being so… nice."
Her smile softened. Something more vulnerable showed through. "…That's what family does, Harry. If… if you're courting me, one day we'll be family. And… is there anything you wouldn't do for… for family?"
For a moment his thoughts went to the Dursleys. Nothing good lived there. Then they moved on—to the Weasleys, Hermione, Sirius, Remus, Hagrid. And Lyra. His own smile softened.
"No. No, there isn't."
A moment passed. Lyra sighed.
"We are both very late for class."
Harry chuckled.
"Yeah, we are. But I'm sure they'll understand."
Bagman rose the moment he saw them. "Harry! There you are! Wonderful, wonderful—come in, come in!"
The witch in magenta moved with him, photographer already in tow. She extended a hand and a bright, professional smile.
"Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet. I was hoping for a few words with you, Harry—just to add a bit of color to the article."
Lyra's smile was warm, elegant, and immediate. "Why aren't you interviewing the other champions, Miss Skeeter?"
Rita's smile widened, affable. "Well, Harry is the most unexpected! And he's already famous—"
"Then an interview may be on the table," Lyra said, still pleasant. "At a time of his choosing."
"Why not now?"
"Potter is much too busy today. You'll need to make an appointment. I'm sure my father can arrange it."
"But you're clearly so close to Harry. Can't I just ask you directly?"
Lyra's smile remained genteel. "So sorry, Rita, but as you know, I'm an heiress. My school workload is just as heavy as Potter's, if not more so. And we have a lot to do."
"Surely just a few minutes is all I would need! After all, you don't want your relationship with Potter being presented to the world in a bad way, do you? By some hack journalist only after sensation?"
"Whatever kind of relationship are you talking about, Rita?" Lyra's smile sharpened at the edges. "And whatever have you been hearing?"
Rita actually took a small step back. "Ah, well… you know, I do hear things from time to time. Just doing my job."
"Really? Well, remember the Goblin Rule of Acquisition 190: Hear all, trust nothing."
"Yes, of course, but… wouldn't you prefer to control the narrative on how this comes out? There are rumors flying about already. Don't you want to set the record straight?"
Lyra hummed, considering, then glanced at Harry. "I suppose that is a good point." She turned the charming smile back on Rita. "And thankfully we have a trustworthy reporter here. What do you say, Potter? It's your choice how you want to proceed."
The speed of the exchange had left Harry slightly behind. He knew Rita Skeeter's name. She had written several unpleasant pieces about Arthur Weasley. Lyra, however, looked entirely at ease. She squeezed his hand once, a small, questioning pressure.
He nodded, slow. "I suppose we could do that."
"Wonderful!" Rita brightened. "Perhaps in private—"
"I will be with Potter in every interview," Lyra said, all smiles. "I am assisting him in the Triwizard, after all."
"Perfectly acceptable, yes!"
Bagman clapped his hands together, delighted by the entire exchange. Cedric caught Harry's eye across the room and gave a small, sympathetic shrug. Fleur's gaze lingered a moment longer before she turned back toward Madame Maxime. Harry kept Lyra's hand in his and decided, firmly, that he was glad she had come.
The photoshoot went fairly well. Each champion was photographed with their headmaster beneath a banner of their school and house, then together as a group. Rita kept trying to position Harry at the front. Lyra countered, calmly, that every champion should have a turn in the center. Dumbledore agreed. Rita allowed it with visible reluctance.
Harry watched Lyra work and felt a quiet, unexpected admiration. She had been nasty and unpleasant to him and others for years, but when she chose to be, she could be sweet, charming, and entirely in command of a room. Part of him liked it. He was not entirely sure why.
At last Bagman laughed and shook each champion's hand in turn.
"Good show, good show! This will be a Triwizard—or Quadwizard—to remember! Won't it, Headmaster?"
"Quite." Dumbledore was still smiling, but the expression looked a little brittle at the edges.
Rita moved forward, quill already in hand. "So… since I'm here, would there be time for an interview with Harry, Lyra?"
Lyra's smile was bright. "But of course. Let's just walk over here and arrange the details. I won't be a moment, Harry."
She led Rita a short distance away, out of easy earshot. Harry turned to Dumbledore. The headmaster moved with him toward the far corner of the room. Only then did Harry speak, voice low.
"Headmaster? Have you found anything yet?"
Dumbledore glanced toward Rita. The ordinary noise of the room seemed to dampen around them.
"Not as yet, Harry. I do apologize for that. We've only had a day to work on it."
"O-oh. I guess that makes sense. Sorry."
"Not at all." Dumbledore's smile was gentle. "We want answers just as badly as you do. We're trying to find them. For the moment, I suggest you stay focused. Your friends will help you, and so will the professors. You just need to ask."
"Thank you, Professor."
"Don't mention it. I do wish I could have given you a quiet year, Harry."
"Yeah, well…" Harry shrugged. "I'm starting to think that's not an option for me."
Dumbledore's smile turned wry and a little sad. "Perhaps. But it hasn't been all bad, has it?"
Harry glanced across the room. Lyra was still speaking with Rita, posture easy, one hand lightly gesturing. He flushed and smiled, small.
"No."
"That's the best way to see things."
The ambient sound of the room returned just as Lyra and Rita walked back to them.
"Potter," Lyra said, "Rita wants to do an interview with you. I will be with you at all times… and she'll be using a quill I choose."
"Why, Lyra!" Rita's smile was bright and slightly strained. "Don't you trust me?"
"I trust you a bit more than I would trust any other reporter, Rita." Lyra's smile never wavered. Rita winced, just a fraction. "But it is still your choice, Potter."
Harry glanced at Dumbledore. The headmaster's eyes twinkled and offered nothing more. Harry looked back at Lyra and Rita, then nodded slowly.
"All right. Let's do this."
Rita headed out, her photographer lingering a moment longer before following. Harry and Lyra went after her. Rita spotted a broom closet along the corridor and brightened.
"Aha! How about in here—?"
Lyra's smirk was tiny and precise. "Rita, I am sure you're very familiar with the broom closets at Hogwarts, but we would prefer something more open."
Harry stared. Rita looked briefly shocked, then recovered.
"Yes, well—"
"Empty classroom, over there." Lyra's tone left no room for argument.
They went. The classroom was full of unused desks and chairs. Harry pulled two over for himself and Lyra. Rita took her own and sat facing them. Lyra handed her a quill. Rita set to writing at once.
"So, Harry. How did you get your name into the Goblet?"
"I didn't. Someone else did."
"Do you know who?"
He shrugged. "Well, a former supporter of Voldemort's—" He caught their winces and coughed. "I mean, You-Know-Who is my best guess."
"Now, Harry, he's been gone a long time—"
"And his supporters are still around." A note of irritation slipped through. Lyra squeezed his hand. He settled.
Rita noticed.
"And what about You-Know-Who? What are your feelings towards him?"
Harry blinked. The question was bizarre and infuriating. He kept his temper and answered with sarcasm.
"I mean… he's trying to kill me. He killed my family. How should I feel about that?"
Lyra squeezed his hand again. He drew a breath.
"Let's stick to the present time, Rita, shall we?" Lyra said.
Rita's eyes lit. "Of course! Tell me: is Lyra Malfoy your girlfriend now?"
"Ah, well… y-yes. Yes, she is."
"Weren't you rivals before?"
"We were…"
Lyra's smirk was small. "Still are. Once we get back to Quidditch, I'm going to defeat you."
Harry's eyes narrowed before he caught the tiny wink. For a moment Rita did not seem to register it.
"Oh, I don't think so. You never have before."
"Things do change, Potter." She smirked. "Maybe you'll slip up."
"That's the only way you might win. Might."
She flushed and huffed, nose in the air. "Or maybe I'll just get better than you."
"Not a chance."
"You're so sure?"
"Yes, I am…"
They had leaned closer without quite meaning to. Rita's quill moved furiously. Lyra laughed, soft.
"Well, let's get you through the Triwizard first, shall we? One step at a time."
"I…" He nodded, feeling slightly stupid. "Yeah, I guess so…"
"Oh, you two have such marvelous chemistry!" Rita beamed. "Tell me, how did your father react when he found out?"
Lyra's smile was wide and perfect. "He couldn't have been happier for us."
She handled most of the rest of the interview after that, Harry chiming in only when needed. When the bells rang, they both stood.
"You'll have to excuse us, Rita. Class calls."
"Of course, of course! Wonderful interview! Thank you so much! And best of luck, Harry, Lyra!"
She left in a rush of magenta. Lyra waved her wand and sealed the door. She sighed, sat, and rubbed her temple.
"That woman is exhausting."
Harry sat beside her and nodded. "Yeah… still… are you sure about giving her… all those details?"
"Better we give her something like this than let her make up whatever she wants. She's done that to my father a few times—made up stories and innuendos just close enough to the truth to not be grounds for libel. She's all about sensation and drama."
"Still…"
"It is better to make sure she prints only what we want than to let her run roughshod over your reputation. Especially in this situation." She huffed. "I'm just trying to help."
He took her hand and met her eyes. "You are. You are. I'm just… I've never thought about publicity before. And, well… I'm glad you're around to help me."
She smiled. "You'd better be…"
He shrugged, slow. "And, well… I'm not exactly used to you being so… nice."
Her smile softened. Something more vulnerable showed through. "…That's what family does, Harry. If… if you're courting me, one day we'll be family. And… is there anything you wouldn't do for… for family?"
For a moment his thoughts went to the Dursleys. Nothing good lived there. Then they moved on—to the Weasleys, Hermione, Sirius, Remus, Hagrid. And Lyra. His own smile softened.
"No. No, there isn't."
A moment passed. Lyra sighed.
"We are both very late for class."
Harry chuckled.
"Yeah, we are. But I'm sure they'll understand."
TDR
Getting sticky.
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I used Octavia. No real theme other than its fancy, ilike how it sounds.
TastyHuman
Getting out there.
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You forgot Cassiopeia. Entirely because it's a constellation that's feminine. Constellations are the basis for the most common Malfoid names I've seen (when it's not a feminine variation of Draco).
Kinematics
Well worn.
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Good point on the astronomical name list, though I haven't seen it in a Malfoid story yet. A search does show a Cassiopeia Malfoy as either Draco and Hermione's daughter, or Draco and Astoria's (Daphne's sister) daughter.
CountvonBarnOwl
Not too sore, are you?
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Now, considering that we discovered that one of the stars in the Draco constellation (specifically WD J1330+6435) is green due to its atmosphere being saturated with sodium from planets in its system. And that this was made known to me on October 19th, 2026 but I had forgotten to mention it until just now, we may consider Malfoid as having received the Mandate of Heaven.
Also, I am now even more on board with the idea of Lucius and Narcissa discovering muggle arcade games.
I also noticed that some of the photorealistic AI models are starting to give Lucius the scar that Jason Isaacs' Georgy Zhukov had in The Death of Stalin
I just had another thought too. Barring a few niche outliers, since Wizard Britain is so factionalized into what are essentially four different cultures, the school itself is the only thing preventing a civil war of the Cromwell variety from breaking out once every generation.
With that said;
The Family that Plots Together 1
Christmas Dinner, the one that he had with his family, was a special occasion for Lucius Malfoy. It wasn't that he couldn't see his daughter or grandchildren whenever he wanted, it was nice having Lyra, and all of her children under his roof and at his table.
Nevertheless, there was a noticeable pall of unease that hung about the Malfoy family's (although it was, by mere unsubstantial technicality the Potter family's - courtesy of his son-in-law) youngest generation.
Narcissa, usually happy to see the full starting lineup and two alternates worth of grandchildren that their daughter had given them, had shot him a concerned look when they came in and two more since they sat down for dinner.
So, here was Lucius at the head of the table, doing detective work. Lyra had already stolen two pastries from Harry's plate the way Narcissa often stole from his own. Which meant that nothing had come between the two of them. Which was good, it may have taken toppling the Dark Lord, a wedding, and two seasons subbing in as the Wiltshire Whirlwinds' coordinator. But Lucius liked Harry.
James and Abraxas both looked tired in the way that boys studying for their N.E.W.T.s did. Grayed skin, sunken eyes, sat halfway out of their chairs, and once their mother had denied their requests for coffee with dinner, looking ready to fall face-first into the food.
Albus looked like Albus. He was going through that particular phase of his life and not going through it well.
Narcissa, on the other hand, had the bearing and the breeding of her mother and her grandmother in every inch. A brilliant emerald dress decorated by silver snakes dancing and writhing across it. Unlike her mother's her sleeves were puffy and comparatively short, with wide openings for her opera gloves. Her tiara only bore emeralds, as opposed to being alternated with rubies as her mother's had been, and while she did not display Lyra's penchant for excessive, rings, necklaces, earrings, and ornaments, and she seemed to be in contention with her second sister for whose hair could be more extravagantly arranged.
Of the triplets, Sirius and Cedric both had the look of boys trying to imitate their older brothers - with mixed results - and Cassiopeia was matching her mother and sister in a Malfoy princess peacocking contest with - damn, that came far too clearly in Narcissa Black's voice - he checked his wife's mouth just to make sure it wasn't moving. Her lips were sealed, chewing.
Content that his wife was not using legilimency on him for fun, Lucius broke from assessing his progeny to have his cupcake. He reached for it, and grabbed empty air. Another glance at Narcissa, the one with the two-tone hair sat immediately near him, she had gone from chewing in the second that he had looked away to smiling coyly, knowingly, with her teeth. It was the side of herself that she had concealed throughout the Dark Lord's era. And now that she didn't have to worry about the fact that House Black's family tree had started to more and more resemble a dead twig in their generation, she was making up for lost time and letting it out.
Lucius hadn't realized what he had withheld from himself until the Dark Lord's death.
Back to the grandlings, Armand looked fine, mostly engaging with his father and mother. Lucius made a point to do something with the boy specifically. He needed to build out, to define himself among his brothers and sisters. He had time to do it, but Lucius was sure Lyra's youngest son would appreciate his grandsire's wisdom.
But then, there was Lily. She wasn't trying to outmatch her mother and eldest sister with hairstyle that added several inches in height the way Cassiopeia did, the jeweled black cape was there, but there was no bright green gown under it. In fact, she dressed more like her grandmother than any of the other ladies at the table all black except for the little embellishments to offset the blonde half of her hair. Except for the fact that her face bore the telltale signs of reapplied makeup.
Had something happened to his granddaughter?
It couldn't be. Nobody else had addressed it. And even if it wasn't something polite or comfortable to talk about, if it was bad enough, then his daughter would have certainly informed him discreetly. Nevertheless, Lucius did not think his instincts were wrong. That meant that a sibling or two at the very least had to be covering for her. But who?
"Lily, is everything alright at school?" Lucius fished, as smoothly and easily as he beathed. Yet the sheer suddenness of it produced more choking and flushes of color than he had expected. All of them, then, confederated to duping their parents, no wonder Lyra hadn't said anything.
What Lucius hadn't expected was for Lily to start crying.
"FATHER!" Lyra shouted as stood up from the table, as her husband swarmed and enveloped their crying child with commendable haste.
It took twelve minutes, and some considerable bickering, but the family had recongregated in the drawing room Narcissa had divined from the various shouting and conversations that all of the siblings were, indeed, in some way complicit, but not exactly with what. That something had gone wrong at school and they had decided - entirely among themselves - that it needed to be concealed for the holiday season from their parents.
That did not bode well. Lucius and Narcissa had made sure to give Harry a truncated course on the rules to surviving Wizarding society at the highest levels. Lesson One; pay attention. Lesson Two; Answer physical slights as drastically as possible. Lesson Three; Never ignore a pooh-pooh.
That was how the boy was supposed to avoid dragging his household into situations like this. Situations where he was hovering over his red-faced, teary-eyed daughter, probably upsetting her further, twitching, ready for action, and with those inefficacious, token attempts to mask his real emotions contorting his face into a wavering grimace. Lyra had positioned herself between her husband and the door, her hands on her hips and glaring at her children, but her Wand already drawn, presumably to be deployed if her husband was suddenly overcome with any bouts of entirely understandable and reasonable bouts of paternal enthusiasm before a proper plan of retaliation could be drawn up and put into action.
"James, Abraxas, is there something you'd like to tell us?" Narcissa asked her grandsons. A brilliant opening. Lily would keep anything shat she had locked up tight, and nobody felt the desire to go fishing around in a family member's mind unless they had to. Pressing the girl's barely conscious brothers for vulnerability was the most reasonable move.
Unfortunately, the boys stood, but not exactly firm; they were propping themselves up on each other.
"I'll cast Somnium on you if you come forward." Their grandmother added.
"Lily's Yule Ball date stood her up."
"WHAT?!?!?!!!!"
After the adults all shouted in shock, pandemonium ensued.
"Somnium," Narcissa said, and the two boys went flat on the floor.
Harry lunged for the wall mounting where his father-in-law's shotgun was on display, only to be intercepted by a petrification spell cast with a distressed scream of "Pottah," his outstretched hand less than a foot short before he hit the ground.
Lily started crying and kicking her unconscious brothers until she realized that she wouldn't get a response out of either of them. Then she settled for squeezing her petrified father like a teddy bear as he somehow, while under the effects of a petrification curse, began to inchworm his way toward the firearm.
"Alright! Who knew what?" Lyra demanded as the room settled.
Albus and Narcissa-the-younger exchanged glances, the triplets closed ranks for security, and Armand for once tried to make himself look less visible among his throng of elder siblings.
"I heard crying in Abraxas' room, and I investigated Albus offered. Lyra stared imperiously at her sleeping second son. Trying to bring him back from dreamland to explain himself by force of will alone. It did not work. "He can spare us a few minutes," Lyra said to her mother. Narcissa waived her wand, dispelling the charm. Abraxas still failed to respond to his mother's stare, or her shaking of his shoulder.
When hexing the boy into wakefulness ended just as uselessly, Lyra looked back to her still-conscious children. "So Lily went to Abraxas first, but forgot the fact that he and James are too preoccupied passing their N.E.W.T.s to do anything. Who else knows what happened?"
As Cassiopeia helped her mother retrace Lily's steps throughout the day leading up to the Yule Ball at Hogwarts, Lucius allowed himself a small moment of pleasure. He had wanted both his father's namesake and Lily to take the Malfoy name after their majority. The two had always been close and excellent exemplars of the image that the Malfoy house tried to put forward.
Lucius approached his granddaughter and got down to her level, looking her in her eyes. "Lily, is it true that the boy who had asked you to the Yule Ball had stood you up? That he has offered you no reasonable explanation for his actions or tried to offer apology?" He asked.
"I heard the other boys talking about it..." Lily blubbered... "It was just a prank..."
The instant those words left his daughter's mouth, Harry Potter became the first wizard in history to subvert the petrification curse on sheer willpower and frothing rage when he regained the use of two limbs.
Lucius would pardon the stray backfist that he caught in the next instant, as his daughter's husband was under the influence of appreciable mental strain, and he could easily picture himself catching the late Cygnus Black thusly had someone ever done something like this to his little girl.
As Lyra removed her husband's glasses, took his head in both of her hands, and calmed him down in the manner in the way her mother would settle her farther down when he expressed fury on her behalf, Lucius Malfoy picked himself up and stood proud. "I see." He said. "You want to get back at him?"
"Uh huh." Lily whimpered.
"Then your I will make it happen. You just have to make your grandfather a promise." Lucius told her.
"Wha- What promise, Grandfather?" Lily asked, her last sob choking out and her tears starting to cease.
"That you will take the Malfoy name when you turn eighteen." Lucius spoke quickly and plainly.
"Lucius!" "FATHER!"
Narcissa and Lyra reacted about as he had expected. "This is not the time." The two ladies said in perfect synch. There was also a muffled sound of perhaps agreement rising from just below the neckline of Lyra's dress.
"Well, if I am going to teach her the ancient, secret magics of House Malfoy, she should take the name and make it official." Lucius responded.
That gave his wife and daughter pause.
"Tell me, Lily, do you know of the other Lucius Malfoy? The man my father named me for?" Lucius asked.
"Uh-huh." Lily replied to her grandfather again.
"And what do they tell you in history class about that Lucius?" The Malfoy elder prodded further.
"They say he cursed Queen Elizabeth I Tudor to never marry, nor ever know the touch of a man."
"Yes, Lily. That sordid lie. Of course, it is not true no Malfoy has ever laid a curse upon the crown, nor upon the person wearing it. And I have had to battle that sordid lie my whole life." Lucius explained. "Would you like to learn how he did it?"
"What?" Lily asked, flabbergasted.
"What your grandfather means, Lily, is that you should use your imagination when punctuating his sentences. He certainly does." Narcissa advised her granddaughter.
Lucius shot his wife a look. She laughed, and he laughed back.
"Go back to that thing our ancestor never did." Sirius interjected.
"Good lad," Lucius replied, "the portrait of Lucius I in the ancestral hall will give you the incantation. But he will not speak it if a person without the blood of Malfoy is in the hall, and he will only talk of it if you use the words 'payback' and 'heartbroken' in the same sentence, otherwise he diverts into long-winded stories about the age of exploration."
"Thankyouthankyouthankyoutankyou." A now much more animated and ecstatic Lily blurted, practically climbing up to her grandfather's head as she did so.
Lucius righted himself once more, his granddaughter's impression of a xenomorph notwithstanding. "Lyra, would you stay with your husband and sons? They seem in need of you."
"Of course, father," his heiress replied, depositing her husband on the floor and smoothing her skirts.
"Cissy?" Lucius asked. It wasn't often that he used the diminutive of his wife's name. And even less often outside of their bedroom. But Lily was her granddaughter too, and the one means to help her avenge her own dignity would not even bear the blood of House Black.
"I'll stay with our daughter, love." She probably saw his face. Years of marriage had the same effect as legilimency.
Lucius filed into the back of his mind that he'd need to do something for his wife before departing the room without another word. His ambulatory grandchildren followed him single file, as expected.
<———To be continued
Okay, so what began as a short write-up devolved into a 20-day draft of a half-baked plot. I just had to get this out while it was in my head and then my muse ran out of the house in two different directions without even bothering to put its pants on.
So what we ended up with was this brief little look into Malfoid married time and Lucius and Narcissa as grandparents. I want to either continue this or rewrite it, or explore other plots altogether. Thank you.
Edit - Spelling (Count needs to stop trusting autocorrect).
Also, I am now even more on board with the idea of Lucius and Narcissa discovering muggle arcade games.
I also noticed that some of the photorealistic AI models are starting to give Lucius the scar that Jason Isaacs' Georgy Zhukov had in The Death of Stalin
I just had another thought too. Barring a few niche outliers, since Wizard Britain is so factionalized into what are essentially four different cultures, the school itself is the only thing preventing a civil war of the Cromwell variety from breaking out once every generation.
With that said;
The Family that Plots Together 1
Christmas Dinner, the one that he had with his family, was a special occasion for Lucius Malfoy. It wasn't that he couldn't see his daughter or grandchildren whenever he wanted, it was nice having Lyra, and all of her children under his roof and at his table.
Nevertheless, there was a noticeable pall of unease that hung about the Malfoy family's (although it was, by mere unsubstantial technicality the Potter family's - courtesy of his son-in-law) youngest generation.
Narcissa, usually happy to see the full starting lineup and two alternates worth of grandchildren that their daughter had given them, had shot him a concerned look when they came in and two more since they sat down for dinner.
So, here was Lucius at the head of the table, doing detective work. Lyra had already stolen two pastries from Harry's plate the way Narcissa often stole from his own. Which meant that nothing had come between the two of them. Which was good, it may have taken toppling the Dark Lord, a wedding, and two seasons subbing in as the Wiltshire Whirlwinds' coordinator. But Lucius liked Harry.
James and Abraxas both looked tired in the way that boys studying for their N.E.W.T.s did. Grayed skin, sunken eyes, sat halfway out of their chairs, and once their mother had denied their requests for coffee with dinner, looking ready to fall face-first into the food.
Albus looked like Albus. He was going through that particular phase of his life and not going through it well.
Narcissa, on the other hand, had the bearing and the breeding of her mother and her grandmother in every inch. A brilliant emerald dress decorated by silver snakes dancing and writhing across it. Unlike her mother's her sleeves were puffy and comparatively short, with wide openings for her opera gloves. Her tiara only bore emeralds, as opposed to being alternated with rubies as her mother's had been, and while she did not display Lyra's penchant for excessive, rings, necklaces, earrings, and ornaments, and she seemed to be in contention with her second sister for whose hair could be more extravagantly arranged.
Of the triplets, Sirius and Cedric both had the look of boys trying to imitate their older brothers - with mixed results - and Cassiopeia was matching her mother and sister in a Malfoy princess peacocking contest with - damn, that came far too clearly in Narcissa Black's voice - he checked his wife's mouth just to make sure it wasn't moving. Her lips were sealed, chewing.
Content that his wife was not using legilimency on him for fun, Lucius broke from assessing his progeny to have his cupcake. He reached for it, and grabbed empty air. Another glance at Narcissa, the one with the two-tone hair sat immediately near him, she had gone from chewing in the second that he had looked away to smiling coyly, knowingly, with her teeth. It was the side of herself that she had concealed throughout the Dark Lord's era. And now that she didn't have to worry about the fact that House Black's family tree had started to more and more resemble a dead twig in their generation, she was making up for lost time and letting it out.
Lucius hadn't realized what he had withheld from himself until the Dark Lord's death.
Back to the grandlings, Armand looked fine, mostly engaging with his father and mother. Lucius made a point to do something with the boy specifically. He needed to build out, to define himself among his brothers and sisters. He had time to do it, but Lucius was sure Lyra's youngest son would appreciate his grandsire's wisdom.
But then, there was Lily. She wasn't trying to outmatch her mother and eldest sister with hairstyle that added several inches in height the way Cassiopeia did, the jeweled black cape was there, but there was no bright green gown under it. In fact, she dressed more like her grandmother than any of the other ladies at the table all black except for the little embellishments to offset the blonde half of her hair. Except for the fact that her face bore the telltale signs of reapplied makeup.
Had something happened to his granddaughter?
It couldn't be. Nobody else had addressed it. And even if it wasn't something polite or comfortable to talk about, if it was bad enough, then his daughter would have certainly informed him discreetly. Nevertheless, Lucius did not think his instincts were wrong. That meant that a sibling or two at the very least had to be covering for her. But who?
"Lily, is everything alright at school?" Lucius fished, as smoothly and easily as he beathed. Yet the sheer suddenness of it produced more choking and flushes of color than he had expected. All of them, then, confederated to duping their parents, no wonder Lyra hadn't said anything.
What Lucius hadn't expected was for Lily to start crying.
"FATHER!" Lyra shouted as stood up from the table, as her husband swarmed and enveloped their crying child with commendable haste.
It took twelve minutes, and some considerable bickering, but the family had recongregated in the drawing room Narcissa had divined from the various shouting and conversations that all of the siblings were, indeed, in some way complicit, but not exactly with what. That something had gone wrong at school and they had decided - entirely among themselves - that it needed to be concealed for the holiday season from their parents.
That did not bode well. Lucius and Narcissa had made sure to give Harry a truncated course on the rules to surviving Wizarding society at the highest levels. Lesson One; pay attention. Lesson Two; Answer physical slights as drastically as possible. Lesson Three; Never ignore a pooh-pooh.
That was how the boy was supposed to avoid dragging his household into situations like this. Situations where he was hovering over his red-faced, teary-eyed daughter, probably upsetting her further, twitching, ready for action, and with those inefficacious, token attempts to mask his real emotions contorting his face into a wavering grimace. Lyra had positioned herself between her husband and the door, her hands on her hips and glaring at her children, but her Wand already drawn, presumably to be deployed if her husband was suddenly overcome with any bouts of entirely understandable and reasonable bouts of paternal enthusiasm before a proper plan of retaliation could be drawn up and put into action.
"James, Abraxas, is there something you'd like to tell us?" Narcissa asked her grandsons. A brilliant opening. Lily would keep anything shat she had locked up tight, and nobody felt the desire to go fishing around in a family member's mind unless they had to. Pressing the girl's barely conscious brothers for vulnerability was the most reasonable move.
Unfortunately, the boys stood, but not exactly firm; they were propping themselves up on each other.
"I'll cast Somnium on you if you come forward." Their grandmother added.
"Lily's Yule Ball date stood her up."
"WHAT?!?!?!!!!"
After the adults all shouted in shock, pandemonium ensued.
"Somnium," Narcissa said, and the two boys went flat on the floor.
Harry lunged for the wall mounting where his father-in-law's shotgun was on display, only to be intercepted by a petrification spell cast with a distressed scream of "Pottah," his outstretched hand less than a foot short before he hit the ground.
Lily started crying and kicking her unconscious brothers until she realized that she wouldn't get a response out of either of them. Then she settled for squeezing her petrified father like a teddy bear as he somehow, while under the effects of a petrification curse, began to inchworm his way toward the firearm.
"Alright! Who knew what?" Lyra demanded as the room settled.
Albus and Narcissa-the-younger exchanged glances, the triplets closed ranks for security, and Armand for once tried to make himself look less visible among his throng of elder siblings.
"I heard crying in Abraxas' room, and I investigated Albus offered. Lyra stared imperiously at her sleeping second son. Trying to bring him back from dreamland to explain himself by force of will alone. It did not work. "He can spare us a few minutes," Lyra said to her mother. Narcissa waived her wand, dispelling the charm. Abraxas still failed to respond to his mother's stare, or her shaking of his shoulder.
When hexing the boy into wakefulness ended just as uselessly, Lyra looked back to her still-conscious children. "So Lily went to Abraxas first, but forgot the fact that he and James are too preoccupied passing their N.E.W.T.s to do anything. Who else knows what happened?"
As Cassiopeia helped her mother retrace Lily's steps throughout the day leading up to the Yule Ball at Hogwarts, Lucius allowed himself a small moment of pleasure. He had wanted both his father's namesake and Lily to take the Malfoy name after their majority. The two had always been close and excellent exemplars of the image that the Malfoy house tried to put forward.
Lucius approached his granddaughter and got down to her level, looking her in her eyes. "Lily, is it true that the boy who had asked you to the Yule Ball had stood you up? That he has offered you no reasonable explanation for his actions or tried to offer apology?" He asked.
"I heard the other boys talking about it..." Lily blubbered... "It was just a prank..."
The instant those words left his daughter's mouth, Harry Potter became the first wizard in history to subvert the petrification curse on sheer willpower and frothing rage when he regained the use of two limbs.
Lucius would pardon the stray backfist that he caught in the next instant, as his daughter's husband was under the influence of appreciable mental strain, and he could easily picture himself catching the late Cygnus Black thusly had someone ever done something like this to his little girl.
As Lyra removed her husband's glasses, took his head in both of her hands, and calmed him down in the manner in the way her mother would settle her farther down when he expressed fury on her behalf, Lucius Malfoy picked himself up and stood proud. "I see." He said. "You want to get back at him?"
"Uh huh." Lily whimpered.
"Then your I will make it happen. You just have to make your grandfather a promise." Lucius told her.
"Wha- What promise, Grandfather?" Lily asked, her last sob choking out and her tears starting to cease.
"That you will take the Malfoy name when you turn eighteen." Lucius spoke quickly and plainly.
"Lucius!" "FATHER!"
Narcissa and Lyra reacted about as he had expected. "This is not the time." The two ladies said in perfect synch. There was also a muffled sound of perhaps agreement rising from just below the neckline of Lyra's dress.
"Well, if I am going to teach her the ancient, secret magics of House Malfoy, she should take the name and make it official." Lucius responded.
That gave his wife and daughter pause.
"Tell me, Lily, do you know of the other Lucius Malfoy? The man my father named me for?" Lucius asked.
"Uh-huh." Lily replied to her grandfather again.
"And what do they tell you in history class about that Lucius?" The Malfoy elder prodded further.
"They say he cursed Queen Elizabeth I Tudor to never marry, nor ever know the touch of a man."
"Yes, Lily. That sordid lie. Of course, it is not true no Malfoy has ever laid a curse upon the crown, nor upon the person wearing it. And I have had to battle that sordid lie my whole life." Lucius explained. "Would you like to learn how he did it?"
"What?" Lily asked, flabbergasted.
"What your grandfather means, Lily, is that you should use your imagination when punctuating his sentences. He certainly does." Narcissa advised her granddaughter.
Lucius shot his wife a look. She laughed, and he laughed back.
"Go back to that thing our ancestor never did." Sirius interjected.
"Good lad," Lucius replied, "the portrait of Lucius I in the ancestral hall will give you the incantation. But he will not speak it if a person without the blood of Malfoy is in the hall, and he will only talk of it if you use the words 'payback' and 'heartbroken' in the same sentence, otherwise he diverts into long-winded stories about the age of exploration."
"Thankyouthankyouthankyoutankyou." A now much more animated and ecstatic Lily blurted, practically climbing up to her grandfather's head as she did so.
Lucius righted himself once more, his granddaughter's impression of a xenomorph notwithstanding. "Lyra, would you stay with your husband and sons? They seem in need of you."
"Of course, father," his heiress replied, depositing her husband on the floor and smoothing her skirts.
"Cissy?" Lucius asked. It wasn't often that he used the diminutive of his wife's name. And even less often outside of their bedroom. But Lily was her granddaughter too, and the one means to help her avenge her own dignity would not even bear the blood of House Black.
"I'll stay with our daughter, love." She probably saw his face. Years of marriage had the same effect as legilimency.
Lucius filed into the back of his mind that he'd need to do something for his wife before departing the room without another word. His ambulatory grandchildren followed him single file, as expected.
<———To be continued
Okay, so what began as a short write-up devolved into a 20-day draft of a half-baked plot. I just had to get this out while it was in my head and then my muse ran out of the house in two different directions without even bothering to put its pants on.
So what we ended up with was this brief little look into Malfoid married time and Lucius and Narcissa as grandparents. I want to either continue this or rewrite it, or explore other plots altogether. Thank you.
Edit - Spelling (Count needs to stop trusting autocorrect).
Last edited:
TastyHuman
Getting out there.
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- Jun 25, 2016
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- 33
It isn't labeled Malfoid anymore due to being posted on Spacebattles, but it exists. There's another story by the same author that's a comedic take on same general plot.
I think you mean "penchant."
Fun story, though I think that it needs to move back in the timeline to properly establish things