Furry Magic

Ttiel: Furry Magic, chapter 71

Disclaimer. JKR owns them. Not me. Rats.

A/N: If you have questions you really, really want answered or want to discuss, chew on with me, etc...please email me. Otherwise my A/N's will be longer than the fic... The triad with D/M/Y was written purely for my own pleasure...not for any other purpose....., tho it did seem to turn on a few other folks...

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Lucius Malfoy sat at his desk facing the vast gardens outside. He rolled the slim bit of metal in his hand. The ancient band was sleek and beautiful. Until this day it had never left the arm of the woman he had given it to. Not since the moment he had bestowed it and the honor it represented to her. Now it never would touch her flesh again. He felt an unexpected pang of loss.

Narcissa Malfoy was gone. She had renounced him, and their vows. She had left him a letter, and this token of their union, severing all that had been between them, leaving only the pain, and the memory of her betrayal, now twice. Lucius rubbed his lip thoughtfully.

With her abandonment a host of new problems arose. Draco was now not his son. Draco he could confirm as his son, but that would take time. He would have to go through the rituals and, once the rest of the pride approved, he could formally adopt Draco. The line went through the females, it was the way of the pride. He almost groaned with the pain that Draco would feel when he learned of his mother's departure. She had rejected him. Draco, the one who even more than her royal husband, had stood beside her.

She had left after all these years, she wrote her reasons in her precise, elegant hand. The most blatant of which she had underlined in broad, dark strokes of her pen. "You have taken your catamite to your bed, the bed you denied to me. Not once in all our years was I permitted to sleep in it, yet he spreads his legs for you there every night. So, explain this to your new wife, and see if *she* will permit it."

Lucius drew in a deep breath. That in of itself was problem enough, but Draco was pregnant. And if Draco was not the king's son, then the child he carried was not the pride's heir. Lucius shook his head. In two months time the magically aided pregnancy would be completed. Not enough time, in all likelihood, to confirm Draco. The child, blessed as it was, miracle that it was, would not be the heir. The sacrifice would be for nothing.

Amrys would not be the Sire. Not unless he wished and Draco permitted him to father a second child. Draco had said with absolute conviction, that it was his destiny to carry the heir, and Kaithas had agreed. The Seer, Gwydion Llyr, had not denied it, nor, Lucius realized had he confirmed the child's destiny, he had merely said how welcomed and loved he would be. So. There was that to hang on to. The child would have love. He would have a place in the pride. He would have happiness.

Lucius wracked his brain trying to remember the words the Seer had used. He had called Amrys the Sire, and Draco the Mother of the heir. Yet, once he had touched Draco's belly and the mind of the child, Llyr had not called the growing fetus the heir again. Was that significant? He had given his blessing. Had he said to whom? Had he used the title? Lucius could not remember. And he needed to know for his own peace. He shook his head.

There were other problems. As if more were needed. He was king of the pride. He was the line of royalty that stretched back forever, into the distant past. And the king had a duty to the pride. He, Lucius Malfoy, would have to re-marry. It was not a problem for him, though he had no real desire to. But, he had learned enough to know who it would be a problem for. Harry. His Chosen. He would have to endure the parade of candidates for the position of Lucius' wife.

Then the courtship. Harry would not do well watching the lover he protected and kept from others as much as he possibly could, court the future queen bride. For once she had borne his children she would be turned, she would become the queen and rule with him, if not precisely beside him. The pride dynamics were exact. The pride was ruled by the three. The queen held dominion only over the females. But once she carried his children and birthed them, she would be the Mother of the heir. Another blow, both to Draco, and to Harry. and to Amrys. Who would not be the Sire.

The king could not deny his wife, not without great reason. Nor did Lucius feel he should. But he knew the Chosen would feel that he was betrayed.

Harry's expectation, his demand would be that if Lucius married against the will of the Chosen, that the marriage not be consummated, that it be a marriage in name only. Harry had no intention of doling out even more bits of his lover, the king, to another person. Someone who would usurp his rightful position. Someone who would attend the pride's gatherings on the arm of the king.

Harry, Lucius was positive, didn't make a distinction between Chosen and Wife. He considered himself the wife in all things but name, of the king. Narcissa had been easy to ignore. But, a new and no doubt beautiful, seductive wife? Harry would explode. He would shed blood before he would take second place.

Not only had Narcissa declared their marriage null and void, not only had she denied Draco, the son who still loved her, but she had also sent notices of the dissolution to all the other kings. The bride candidates could begin arriving any second. Exempted from the wards by long custom and the laws. A courting party could not be barred. Not until the king was wed.

Lucius dropped his head down to rest in his hand.

At that moment, as Amrys sensed the disturbance in the king and headed that way, Harry rounded the corner of the great hall, and ran smack into the small contingent of strangers entering the Arena. He stopped. Staring at them. At the beautiful young woman who stood in the center of the five person group.

"Who are you?" He asked, knowing she was not one of the pride's women. She looked down her perfect nose at him, lifting her chin. He frowned.

"I am Chrythys, and I will be the wife of the king. Out of my way young-ling." She said, haughtily. The guardian standing closest to Harry made to push him aside. Harry bristled.

"Over my dead body." He snarled at the woman. He turned his face towards the man who's hand had almost touched him. "Do not touch me. And no one is marrying my king."

The voice that came from behind Harry was carefully neutral. The pride's third moved up, placed an arm around the thin shoulders. "What occurs here?" Graeme asked. Harry was rigid with indignation.

"This kitten seeks to bar us from entry. We have the right to court the unwed king. The laws so state. Move him out of our way." The woman ordered, tossing her head.

"He has a right to stand where he will. He is the Chosen." Graeme retorted. "And our king is wed already."

"His wife has renounced him. She announced it to all but you." The lady said, a satisfied smirk on her face. "So stand aside, leopard. I will court the king."

Harry strained against Graeme's hold. Graeme wrapped his arm tighter.

"How wise you are, then if you wish to rule here, to antagonize and make an enemy of the king's Chosen." Graeme sneered. She faltered, looking at Harry again.

"He is a kitten. Barely of age. He can not truly be the Chosen." Her voice was finally less than certain. He was sure her beauty had made people refuse her few things. She was not used to not getting every thing she wanted or asked for. Harry hissed at her, finally relaxing fractionally in Graeme's hold. His emerald eyes were filled with warning. She flinched back from the look.

"Oh, lady, but he is. He is." Graeme let her see his teeth as he smiled.

ne'ichan
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