Disclaimer: I own nothing.
"Suddenly, you're ripped into being alive. And life is pain, and life is suffering, and life is horror, but my god, you're alive, and it's spectacular - Joseph Campbell
.............
"I told him he couldn't take the job." A woman spoke, her voice tinged with palpable concern. The crease of her eyebrows accentuated the gravity of her words. She was staring at her reflection, grappling with the delicate fastening of her necklace.
"He said, alright, I'll move to London then." She continued, her reflection mirroring her inner turmoil. "I said I wouldn't give in to blackmail, and he stormed off. My no is final."
"Ah, well, that settles the matter," I responded, reaching for my coat, the fabric rustling lightly in the subdued atmosphere. "I will give the job to the other candidate. He's more qualified anyway."
"George handled the city and tiles in your absence for seven months," she retorted, a trace of offense evident in her tone as she turned to face me.
"True, but he lacks intimate knowledge of our operations," I countered gently, acknowledging her concerns. "He knows about businesses, but he doesn't know about our business. This other candidate is good; he knows the business, and he's a fast learner."
That didn't seem to help either, because she frowned and said "What if George really leaves?" Her voice was rife with worry.
"You'll just have to let him go, Jaq. He'll get a job in an office in London. I'm sure he'll write to you." I replied.
"He made a big speech about wanting to help you build up a respectable business," Jaq said, her voice trailing off. "He's becoming so much like his father."
"There are trains to London," I replied, trying to be helpful.
"So I just let him leave!?" she said, her voice rising.
"Well, every month or so, he'll be back," I continued. "Unless, of course, he meets a girl. Then who knows?"
She got even more anxious, biting her lip now. It appeared the thought of meeting a girl who keeps her son away from home didn't cross her mind because she looked further distraught before she narrowed her eyes, giving me an accusing stare.
"My God. You want him to do this job, don't you?" she said, her voice tinged with accusation.
I took a deep breath, trying to keep my tone even. "Jaq, I want what you want," I told her, my voice soft.
She didn't look convinced. "What about this other candidate?" she asked, her expression still guarded. "You said he was more qualified."
I hesitated for a moment, then decided to come clean. "Well, I lied," I admitted. "There isn't one. George is family. That automatically makes him the most qualified candidate for the job."
She rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated. "Typical," she muttered, staring back at her reflection in the mirror. "How much are you paying?"
I grinned, feeling a sense of satisfaction. "The advertised rate," I replied, my voice light. "Three hundred."
She snorted, clearly unimpressed. "Like hell," she retorted.
I shrugged, still smiling. "Three fifty?"
"Like hell," she responded, her voice rising.
"Four hundred, then," I said, trying to be reasonable.
"Like hell, five hundred," she almost snarled, her eyes flashing.
I raised my eyebrows, impressed despite myself. "Five hundred it is," I said, still grinning. "You drive a hard bargain, Jaq."
She glared at me, but I could see a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Don't I know it?" she said. "He is my son, Charles, and I love him. I just got him back."
"I know, Jaq," I replied. "That's why I'll keep him away from the old business and put him in charge of the new. He can help clean up the money. Agreed?"
"Agreed," she responded, her voice now soft.
The relief in her eyes was obvious. Jacqueline, my aunt, was one of the sharpest minds I'd ever known. Her skill in accounting put me largely ahead of my competition. Her advice and firm suggestion gave me a step ahead of everyone when it came to the books. But at this moment, I didn't see a firm pillar in my business or life. I saw a mother. This was what our family did to us. They were like the unavoidable chink in your armor, your archiles heel, a very vulnerable point of contact. Twice more for a mother and her child. I needed her at her best, and I would honestly have agreed to pay twice that amount if she had insisted on it.
She stood, and I helped her put on her fur jacket. She then turned and held my cheeks, her eyes searching mine. "Your eyes look tired, Charles," she said, her voice gentle. "You haven't been sleeping right. Don't try to lie to me. I can tell."
I stared at her for a few seconds, my mind racing. I knew that I couldn't keep up the facade any longer. "I can't sleep, Jaq," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
"When I close my eyes, it's like I'm back underground, in the war. The smell of sulfur and mud immediately fills my head, and I jerk awake. I still get the shakes. Yesterday, I nearly blew a rat's head off because it knocked over my cup while my eyes were closed. I rarely sleep, and when I do, nightmares wake me up."
She encircled her arms around me, resting her head on my chest. We spent a moment like that, with her listening to the sounds of my heartbeat before she began.
"You know, you were one of the most peaceful babies I had ever seen," she said, her voice soft. "As long as you were fed and left to sleep, no one got so much of a fuss from you. You made my sister so happy. Her little quiet boy, she always called you. I hate what enlisting did to you, what the war did to you, and to all of you. The sweet boy who left never came back."
I pulled away from her, annoyed despite myself. Taking a step backward "I didn't come to hear this, Jaq," I said, my voice hard. "It's what everyone seems to talk about. Yes, I changed. I had to. You might feel sorry that the sweet boy you knew didn't come back, but I'm glad he didn't. The things I had to do to survive the war and the things I had to do to get back to you sure as hell weren't pleasant. But I'm back. I'm here now, alive, keeping the family alive, well, and fed. So the least you can do is be grateful."
"Charles, I didn't mean it like that. I-" she started, her voice trailing off.
"It's alright, Jaq," I said, cutting her off. "I'll be going on ahead. I have a meeting anyway. Tell George he can come over to the office tomorrow morning."
"Charles, wait. Charles!!" She called after me, but I was already out the door, her voice fading as I closed it.
As I walked down the street, I felt the yearning for a cup of whiskey now more than ever, a silent echo of comfort. However, the war's brutal lessons had long since seeped deep into my being, instilling a haunting fear of anything that could sway my carefully guarded state of mind.
"Whiskey is just fuel for the loud engines in your head, Charles." I whispered under my breath. I instead took a deep breath. The street was busy with people rushing to and fro, their faces a blur of motion and color. I watched them for a moment, feeling a sense of detachment.
Finally, I reached the door of the building where the meeting was to be held. I took another deep breath, trying to push back memories of the war to the back of my mind, then reached into my pocket to bring out my pocket watch. I was a few minutes early, but I didn't mind. I adjusted the strap of my pistol under my coat. Its weight was a familiar comfort at my side. I raised my hand to the door and...
——————————————————————————
Present Day
In a sequence of measured taps, my knuckles rapped against the resplendent gilded doors of the expansive Delacour manor and I awaited a response.
Each rap echoed through the expansive entryway, the sound resonating through the ornate carvings adorning the grand entrance and causing vibrations in the air. With each tap, a faint yet discernible tingle danced along my fingertips. I felt the subtle vibrations reverberate through the wood, subtly resonating through the structure itself.
It gave a mental picture of all within its range and my attuned senses provided a subtle mental outline of the approaching figure—a silhouette that gradually took form, revealing itself as distinctively female.
Resonance sensing had been showing itself particularly useful in a lot of ways.
The rhythmic echoes faded into the opulent silence, and with it, the outline.
The ornate doors gradually creaked open, a testament to their weight to reveal the charm that was Fleur Delacour. A vision in crimson, her graceful figure silhouetted against the golden hues of the entryway.
Little things still threw off, still had the ability to glaringly remind me, like a gong to the face, that this was not the world I was used to. This was fiction turned reality. Little things like the vision that was Fleur Delacour. The supernatural tilt to her beauty, its unearthly quality. I felt it as a tangible force, commanding attention and creating an ambiance that whispered of enchantment and otherworldly charm.
She stood there, looking elegant in a red dress, that hugged her figure in all the right places, her light blue orbs shimmering beneath long lashes, a light pink rouge gracing her cheeks. The dress tried its best but it did little to hide her hourglass curves; the swell of her breast and flaring hips.
"Draco Malfoy," she greeted with genuine delight, a radiant smile on her lips and her excitement evident in her voice "You came."
"Of course. I told you I would." I replied.
"Yes, you did. You look great." She said, while giving me a once-over.
I was clad in a white shirt and a bold red tie, a blue vest snugly adorning my form beneath a crimson Victorian overcoat. Paired with sleek black dress pants and shoes.
Narcissa had not been particularly impressed when I first stepped out in just a white shirt and black pants. The red overcoat and red tie was her touch, having me pose for her in front of a mirror. I'd admit the crimson color was a nice compliment. I let her have her fun and as a result, I was aware I cut quite an impressive figure.
"Thank you." I acknowledged the gesture.
"Please, come in," Fleur gestured, stepping aside to make way. "The party's just begun." Her red dress heel clicked against the floorboards. Earrings, shiny and beautiful, flicked backwards as she turned on her heel to lead me, her dress creasing nicely around her hips. The creases of her red dress tightened more at her hips with each step she took, her very shapely behind looking pert and full. Her fragrance lingered in the air, drifting into my nose, a floral flowery scent.
As I crossed the threshold, I felt an unseen barrier yield beneath my step, parting their intricate tapestry to accommodate my passage.
Each carefully laid defense yielded and reshaped in response to my footsteps, allowing me to traverse the protective network within the manor. The entire expansive network was laid bare to me, my mental catalogue recognizing the unique signature of these protective enchantments as specifically house wards—each exuding a distinct presence. Among these, the prevailing force emanated from the pervasive hush enveloping the entrance —an eloquent manifestation of the noise-canceling charm, giving no indication that there was a party going on inside.
The complexity of the wards revealed an intricate hierarchy, subtly orchestrating their energies towards a singular purpose and amplifying the drain on their reservoirs to emphasize a particular functionality. The trigger to allow entry seemed to hinge on the phrase "Come in".
Very impressive security.
She led me through the main entrance and the ballroom unfolded before us. I was immediately struck by the vibrant atmosphere of the party, my eyes devouring my surroundings. The air was thick with the scent of exotic drinks, the thrum of enchantments, and the sounds of laughter.
Witches and wizards were mingling, their colorful outfits adding to the mood. I could see the men dressed sharply while women donned dresses of varying hues. Some outfits boasted daring slits, revealing glimpses of hips and décolletages, while others flaunted skin-tight gowns paired with fishnet accents. Intriguingly, some wore holsters cleverly fastened to their fishnet attire, adding an enigmatic allure to their ensemble.
My eyes were particularly drawn to a group of revelers in the corner, where a haze of smoke hung in the air. I could see them passing around a small vial.
Ah, the ever prevalent signs of addiction. I, myself had felt no craving for a cigarette since I was inserted into this world. I suspected I had the gamer's mind to blame for that.
The central area beckoned with enchanting melodies as a group of musicians played a lively tune on their instruments. A woman took center stage, her captivating voice soaring above the band, infusing the space with magnetic rhythm. The blend of the beats and the sweet singing voice of the woman, amplified by magic, became the symphony of the evening. The music was infectious, and soon people swayed and danced to the irresistible cadence, their gowns twirling and hips swaying in joyful abandon.
The women dancing were in no small quantity, gowns flaring wildly and hips gyrating in response to the men behind them, who bared their hips forward, ready to embrace the feel of the female body gelled to their crotch.
At the rear of the room, a lengthy bar shelf dominated the space. Flanked by several inviting bar stools, the setup hinted at an open bar concept, yet an undercurrent of magic suggested the discreet presence of house elves orchestrating the service behind the scenes.
Adjacent to the bar, serving tables groaned under the weight of delectable offerings, including crispy hash browns, succulent shrimp, and a variety of enticing snacks.
My gaze then wandered upward, drawn to the flickering lights that revealed an ethereal spectacle. Ethereal beings, adorned in leafy garments and sporting dragonfly-like wings, danced and twirled above in a mesmerizing display. Their luminescence added an otherworldly charm to the already magical ambiance, casting a spellbinding aura over the gathering.
Pixies
The sights, the sounds, and the vivacity of the evening set the stage for a spectacle, where every detail seemed meticulously orchestrated to captivate and enthrall. It was an atmosphere designed for indulgence of vices, and it did not take much to start the mockery of social status games.
I expanded my perception beyond the visible realm, my sensing extended and of course, the range of sounds and words in the room became clear to my ears, the faint fluttering of wings fading into the background.
Did you see who Adrianna came with? Pierre, of course.
We need to get some more nightshade.
Vareau's ass looks fat, don't you think?
Pixies…haha. Was that really the best she could do this time?
It seemed no one was exempt from scorn and criticism.
I stole a glance to my companion; she was surveying the party with a satisfied smile gracing her features, basking in the occasion.
"I host one of these gatherings annually before heading back to school. What started as a one-time affair during our third year has now evolved into a yearly tradition," she shared, her adeptness in social settings unmistakable. However behind the façade of a cheerful, bubbly demeanor and the appearance of an admittedly overly attractive blonde, it was the little things that gave her off—like her piercing azure eyes, holding a depth and intensity that betrayed a hidden layer beneath.
"Now we have students from various magical schools-Beauxbatons, Durmstrang and now…Hogwarts-all in attendance."
A subtle shift in her gaze hinted an interruption as she spotted someone across the room.
"I'll let you get to enjoying the party. I'll be back in a minute, promise. Meanwhile Juliette here will look after you until I return." She said, nodding towards a bespectacled, dark-haired girl approaching us before she departed. The girl in question moved with an elegant and sinuous grace, her steps flowing like a winding serpent.
The balance and movement of her steps, the short intervals between her heel leaving the ground and coming back down indicating some form of extreme bodily balance. She came to a stop, wearing a gown of silk.
She stood shorter than me, and like most women here had an immaculate heart shaped face, features evident of an aristocratic elegance. Juliette surprisingly had the cutest smile on her face as she swept her fingers through her long brown hair, lifting it from in front of her green eyes. She again tried to tuck it behind her ear but failed.
"Fleur will return shortly," she assured me, seamlessly slipping into her role as my temporary guide amid the whirlwind of festivities.
"Shall we get you a drink?" she added, motioning to the back.
As we reached the bar, she gracefully took a seat beside me, inquiring about my preference.
"I'll have whiskey." I replied.
A swift motion and a whisper of air accompanied the sudden appearance of two metallic coasters on the bar, followed by a pair of elegant glass cups. Two crimson flasks then followed. One, pouring whiskey into my cup and water in hers.
Raising an eyebrow in curiosity, I wordlessly conveyed my inquiry.
"I don't indulge in alcohol, it tastes like men- overrated and often leaving a bitter aftertaste" She said, her lips curled behind her cup in a subtle smirk.
I couldn't suppress a chuckle at her candid remark. "Well, I can't argue with that," I conceded, finding amusement in her straightforwardness.
Lifting my cup, I took a modest sip, relishing the coolness that descended down my throat, a familiar comfort from days past.
"Draco Malfoy by the way," I introduced myself.
Juliette let out a small, amused chuckle. "Malfoy? Ah one of those pure blood type. How charming," her tone now slightly dull and her words laced with a hint of sarcasm.
"What type?" I inquired, arching an eyebrow.
"You know, the blood purist kind" she retorted sardonically.
I chuckled, amused by her bluntness. "And I suppose you find that terribly old-fashioned." I told her.
"Of course," she responded, adjusting her glasses "I'm Juliette Aubert. I have non-magique parents….muggleborn as you Brits call it. I personally find that term distasteful. Given the assumptions your kind makes about us, I suspect we won't be on good terms."
"And uh you got that merely from my name?" I quirked an eyebrow.
"Am I wrong?"
"Well right now, you're not the one facing discrimination. I am."
"What?!" She spluttered, her frustration momentarily surfacing. "I'm not discriminating against you, you're the one doing that."
"How? I just gave you my name and you have already made a judgment about me, without even knowing me, concluded that you don't like me. Is that not discrimination?"
I could see I had thrown her off balance.
"No, It's….I….I haven't." Her voice petered out and she started up a again. "You are the grrrrrr" she let out an adorable growl, clenching her fists before taking a deep calming breath. "At least now I know you're annoying. Okay let's start again. I'm Juliette Aubert."
I traced the condensation-laden sides of my cup, intrigued by the obvious remnants of coolness. Instinctively, I focused on the cup, seeking out any enchantments. Interestingly, I discovered a self cooling charm woven into the vessel.
"Draco Malfoy, but you already knew that."
Belatedly, a suspicion crept into my mind, a notion that perhaps Fleur, with her acute awareness of my family background and views, had deliberately placed me in the company of someone diametrically opposite to my expectations, some sort of powerplay.
But that seemed like my paranoia talking.
Caution still had me focusing my sensing in the direction Fleur had been headed in where I could hear her talking to someone.
"I told you to stay away from my party Gabrielle."
Ah Gabrielle, the younger sister.
"And miss your soirée? No chance. The courage you had in telling mama to keep me away from your party was inspiring, but did you stop to think about the repercussions? I can still make your remaining hours in this house a misery. I know where your bags are."
"Gabrielleeeee, please. Alright, what do you want this time? I have some galleons I can give you."
"No Fleur, I'm staying for this party!"
"…Fine. I'll be watching you Gabrielle, stay away from the drinks and don't let me catch you with any nightshade."
No, that didn't sound like a girl who had such power play in mind.
"Go away Fleur."
"I will be watching you Gabrielle."
Just a concerned older sister.
I could hear her footsteps, making her way back over and I focused back on Juliette, realizing that our little conversation was coming to an end.
Sure enough, soon Fleur pulled up a chair beside me and took her seat. I noted the closeness between us, her fragrance tingling my nose once more.
"Thank you Juliette. I'm here now. Thank you for telling me. Please keep an eye on her."
"Sure thing, Fleur." Juliette said. She stood about to take her leave and I extended my gratitude. "Thank you Juliette. It was nice to meet you Juliette."
She turned, a complicated look in her eyes and then she replied, "You too" and took her leave, her steps still ringing in the same pattern.
"Sorry about that. I'm really glad you could make it Draco Malfoy." Fleur began.
Seriously what was with the whole full name shtick. Wasn't it easier to just say Draco.
"It's alright. Lovely party."
"Oh Thank you. You do not look like you're enjoying yourself however. I didn't take you for the whiskey type Draco Malfoy."
"Well I'm full of surprises. What's your poison?"
"Pardon?" Oh right, "What do you like to drink?"
"I much prefer wines." She continued "And cocktails."
"Cocktails?" Magical cocktails, that really sounded interesting.
"Yes, would you like to try some?" She asked.
"Sure, why not"
She flicked her two fingers up and I could feel a surge of magic as the flasks started mixing up by the usage of house elf magic.
It then poured a ruby liquid into the waiting cups.
I looked at her in askance but
"Santé," She said an impish glint in her eyes as she raised her glass, effortlessly downing the concoction in a single audacious gulp.
She knocked down the cup on the table and leaned forward closing her eyes. She opened it after a while, her face now flushed. Her cerulean gaze ignited with an ardent fervor, sparkling like a tempestuous flame, expressing sudden sensual intensity. We locked eyes and it was like I could see the entrance of a devil in her, hers sparkled with a challenge and a hint of something hot, setting the tone for the evening. Her hair was spilling over her shoulders and a thin trail of the remainder of the drink, trailed down, tracing a delicate path down her neck to the swell of her chest.
With a subtle movement, her thumb ascended, capturing the liquid's stray course before guiding it back into her mouth with a languid grace.
I carefully adjusted my posture, now trying to hide my growing erection.
I looked back up into her eyes and could see the challenging look in them.
This certainly set the mood for the evening.
Skol!
Embracing the moment, I raised my cup and tilted my head, letting the liquid slide down my throat. It tasted like water, but colder, sharper, almost electric. I set the cup down and looked at her, expecting some kind of explanation.
"You might want to brace yourself," she said slowly, resting her chin on her hand now and her eyes half lidded. Her voice had a sultry quality to it.
"Wha-"
Status Effect: Intoxicated
Poison resistance leveled up.
Poison resistance leveled up.
My body seized for a brief moment. A brief moment where I seem to see sound, hear color and taste feel. Then a warmth surged within me, starting from my head and spreading to every inch of my body. My blood felt hot and opened my mouth to let some much needed air in. My heartbeat felt so loud in my ears now.
I clenched my teeth and gripped the edge of the bar, still trying to cool down and slow my heartbeat.
2 STR (temporary)
Poison resistance has leveled up!
Poison resistance has leveled up!
Poison resistance has leveled up!
"Breatheeee, breatheee" Honestly, it was the sound of her voice, more than the instructions it provided that guided me, each inhalation centering me. "The first time drinking it is always the kicker. You handled that better than I expected."
She had been watching me, an expecting look on her face.
I immediately called out my wand from my inventory, its comfortable weight and touch as it slipped into my hand providing a familiar comfort to me. What was the word again…sectumsepira….no….sectums-
"That, Draco Malfoy is what I call Amberfire, a cocktail of whiskey, turbinado sugar, and a little bit of Re'em blood, 0.5% of it to be exact." Her smile akin to a cat that had cornered its prey. "It comes with a fire but leaves behind a rush."
My eyes widened as I looked back down into the cup.
Re'em blood was a highly volatile alchemical ingredient with a number of uses. The most basic being its ability to induce a temporary state of strength in its raw infusion, however raw infusions had the drastic drawback of madness, an uncontrollable hot rage that had the ingester unable to differentiate between friend from foe. In its concentrated form, Re'em blood was vastly unsafe for consumption.
The beauty of the Re'em blood laid in its compatibility in rituals, where it induces stability in the different components of a ritual, a binding factor. Its mythical symbolism as a source of strength and unity helping in this regard.
However, due to the rarity of the Re'em and the demand far exceeding the supply, their blood was rarely available for purchase on the open market and therefore wasn't exactly easy to find. Yet here, in the most clandestine gathering, we were enjoying a cocktail of Re'em blood.
The sensation had passed now, leaving behind a fiery jolting buzz flowing in my veins. Great was honestly an understatement. I felt ecstatic at this discovery, coupled with the buzz of it coursing through my veins. Laughter bubbled up uncontrollably,
"Hehehehehehehehe."
I was pleased, why wouldn't I be? The revelation of Re'em blood had accelerated a lot of my plans, shifting my timetable up significantly faster than I anticipated. Timetables crumbled and possibilities expanded.
"You like that, don't you? I knew you would." Fleur said with a large smile. "A lot of my guests here have had one at least one shot of this. It's one of the many highlights of attending Fleur Delacour's party. I have more cocktails."
"If they taste anything like that, I'm down for more."
"Nice, more coming right up." The flasks began mixing again.
"So where did you get the Re'em blood from?" I got direct, straight to the point. She had shown an affinity tonight towards pleasantly surprising me, I was interested to see if she would continue the streak.
"My friend over there, Lucien, his family owns an apothecary and several distilleries. He keeps us supplied." She said indicating to a brown haired boy, standing, drinking with a group of people. He looked tall in his fancy robes, seeming almost skinny but not exaggerated or poorly shaped. He might've been on the slimmer side, but he still seemed well-proportioned. The oversized robes made him seem like a classy boss, the way he carried himself in them.
Shot!
"Impressive." I think I just met my new best friend, I thought. I found myself extremely glad I came to this party tonight.
"Thank you. However, what I really want you to be impressed by is the fact that these are my own cocktail recipes."
What. My eyes widened. Her own cocktail recipe. You had to understand what this meant. Re'em blood was highly volatile, which meant its handling had to be done by trained professionals, potions masters and such. Furthermore, the fact that the rare and volatile alchemical ingredient, had been ingeniously harnessed in this clandestine concoction by her meant only one thing.
She knew alchemy.
"Really?" A small part of me wondered why she was so forthcoming with this information.
"Mmmhmmm, every drink you're gonna have tonight is gonna be a cocktail of mine."
I, however, wasn't gonna look a gifthorse in the mouth.
Fleur Delacour, you certainly are the gift that keeps ongiving.
"Well then, consider me impressed. I'm afraid my mixing skills stop at the potions lab." I said, my gaze lingering on the pulsating atmosphere of the soirée. watching a boy and a girl, blatantly dry humping each other at this point.
"While my current repertoire confines itself to the clandestine recipes unveiled at these gatherings, my ambition reaches toward a future brimming with my own signature elixirs and brews. For now, consider this a preview, a tantalizing glimpse."
"And uh…everyone has had this?" Now watching two girls sucking their faces off while groping each other. Fleur turned, look to see who I was talking about.
"Not exactly. They are enjoying themselves, no? That is Érasme and Camille. Érasme goes to Beauxbatons, she is an absolute terror with the wand. A two time consecutive winner of our yearly duels until last year. Camille is…well I don't really know much about Camille. She goes to Dumstrang. What I do know however is that they are cousins."
"Cousins?!", I repeated, utterly nonplussed.
"Oui"
This was a madhouse.
"I told you, Draco Malfoy. We party different." she said with a wink.
I could see that now.
"Next up," A libation of glowing brown mixture was poured in our cups. "This is a personal favorite of mine. I call it Ambrosia."
"Well, bottoms up." Skol
——————————————————————————
The party pulsed with life, laughter echoing off the walls as Fleur and I engaged in deep conversation, the effects of temporary strength fading, leaving my poison tolerance stagnant at level 7. Despite numerous drinks, I remained sober, the elusive level 8 of inebriation beyond reach. Glasses clinked, and the room buzzed with chatter, drinks refilled with uncanny speed.
Amidst the revelry, Fleur divulged details about her family's business, and I hung on her every word, eager for more insights.
As the night wore on, the conversation turned to more personal topics. I found myself arguing quidditch with her.
"I think you've said very few true words Draco Malfoy," she said, her words slurring a little. "The truth is now that the unthinkable has happened and the Bulgarian team lost, you've found yourself on the wrong side of the barricades."
"Haha…you'd think that, wouldn't you? I replied. "The Irish team might be the people's favorite this year, but they were also the darlings in 1990, failing to reach the finals."
"You know your quidditch history. I'm impressed" she said laughingly.
"The Bulgarians were initially the butt of jokes. 'No form,' they said. 'Hulking Krum,' they called him." I leaned forward, folding my arms. "But look at them now – finalists, with a decisive snitch catch. A year ago, who would've thought?" I explained passionately. "What most people are blind to is the fact they have no form, yes but that's what makes them so dangerous. The Bulgarians aren't like the English with beer. They are petrol, and trust me, they might have just taken a loss but they'll get their spark back."
And such was the tale. The Bulgarian team had often been relegated to the sidelines, year after year, their performance obscured by the luminosity of other quidditch giants.
Then in came Victor Krum as a game changer, a pureblood from the Noble House of Krum. Krum, amidst a team considered perennially struggling, altered their narrative single-handedly. His aerial maneuvers defying conventions-The Wronski feint he performed at the final match just but one of a series of audacious stunts he had pulled so far in the worldcup. He rewrote the history of a team once dismissed, transforming underdogs into worthy contenders.
His origin apparently began while still as third year student of Durmstrang, caught the discerning eyes of Quidditch scouts, who saw in him not just promise but an exceptional caliber rarely witnessed.
The only problem being his age.
Eager for a miracle to rewrite their history, the Bulgarians effortlessly maneuvered international strings. His age was changed from 17 to 18 on paper, just enough to qualify to play internationally.
While still considered very young, his age wasn't a deterrent; it became an exclamation point on the extraordinary narrative of his meteoric rise. The fact that Krum donned the Bulgarian uniform while balancing textbooks and broomsticks, traversing the tenuous divide between classroom and international Quidditch fields, was made out as speaking volumes about his prodigious abilities. I knew this because Draco was apparently a big fan and Lucius had been one of the wheels the Bulgarians greased in other to put Krum on the map.
"Still, didn't help them win though" Fleur teased, striking a chord with my loyalty towards the Bulgarians. It was disappointing that I was with a total babe who liked quidditch but supported the wrong team. She wasn't wrong though all support and expectations had been on Krum and the Bulgarian team winning, they had become a crowd favorite, a success story, crushing every team that came up against them. You could imagine then how it was when they lost the finals. The Bulgarians loss wasn't taken well by the country, their media blaming Krum for catching the snitch too soon.
"We'll see next season."I sighed, scanning the party. "Do you mind if I use the restroom?"
"Sure, It's to your right" Fleur said. I thanked her, concealing my intent to follow my target. Now following her directions. I walked. Not that I needed it, he was lit up like a candle in my range.
Navigating the crowd, I ventured toward the southwest, reaching a hallway leading to gendered restrooms. Silence enveloped me as I paused outside the men's room, discerning the distinct sounds within —the telltale sign of my target attending to his business.
Waiting patiently, I finally stepped in when I heard the sound of him finishing up and washing his hands.
"Lucien?" I inquired.
"Yeah, who's asking?" His curiosity turned to bewilderment as he found himself facing the end of my wand.
"Imperio!"
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Hello everyone Khanadiety here back again with another chapter. For those of us confused, the italicized texts at the beginning portray our MC's life before waking as Draco. I have decided to expand more on his life before. In a way, I will be telling two stories at once. Both to show the differences in the two lives and the similarities and how that affects his current actions.
Anyway, I've decided on an upload schedule which would be every Saturday.
So Ciao, and see you next time.