Chapter Text
“—solicitor says they still won’t allow visitors, but anticipates they’ll make an exception around Yule.”
Draco hummed absently, half paying attention to his mother’s one-sided conversation as he cut his steak into perfect squares, careful to ensure the steak didn’t touch the mash and the mash didn’t touch the veg.
“Oh, and I’ve been hearing whispers that The Shift is reawakening,” his mother said casually as she sipped at her wine glass.
Draco’s eyebrows furrowed as he paused his fork on its way to his mouth, “What’s that now? What’s reawakening?”
She wiped the corner of her already clean mouth, “The Shift, Draco. It's making a resurrection according to several of my sources. It’s still hearsay, but if it’s true—you’ll no doubt be classed as an Alpha, as all Malfoys before you. The Blacks weren’t as consistent in their delineation according to family gossip passed down through generations, but I’m sure it’s no question how you’ll present.”
At the word ‘Alpha’, vague memories of such a ‘Shift’—discussed in hushed tones by his father and his father’s associates after one too many firewhiskies—began to filter in.
“How do you know this Shift is reviving?” he asked, setting his cutlery down as he gave her his full attention.
“Well, it’s been said that The Shift happens after a magical catastrophe, and here we are—post two wars that have decimated Wizarding Britain over several decades,” his mother said—casually still, but he could see the tightness in her eyes. “Marguerite Selwyn has begun showing symptoms, so they think. Her mother was trying to be coy, but she wasn’t doing a very good job at discretion as she was practically screaming it to all the witches at brunch last week."
“So…if it’s true, when would I start presenting?” he asked curiously.
“Hard to say, really, but likely soon. Once The Shift starts, there’s no stopping it. There is, unfortunately, very limited information on the subject since the last resurrection. Never thought I’d see it in my lifetime. I’ve already got D’Artagnan pulling relevant texts from the library for you.”
He hummed as he rapped his knuckles on the glossy tabletop. “And remind me what exactly I can expect?”
“Well, from what I understand, an Alpha presents sometime in early adulthood and they will then trigger their Omega’s presentation if an appropriate mating bond is present. The bond will strengthen your magical cores and you’ll likely be one of the most powerful wizards in Britain.” She tilted her head, a small smirk playing on her lips. “And then, of course, there are the biological changes that facilitate the…higher probability of magical pregnancy.”
He straightened, swallowing a thick lump in his throat. “Mother, I’m nineteen. Surely that’s a little young for heirs.”
She waved an impatient hand. “I was young when I had you—“
“Mother…” he warned.
“—but, of course, you can take measures to prolong the inevitable, I suppose. Once you meet your mate, I mean. And when you’re an Alpha, you’ll be primed for greatness, Draco, just as I always knew you’d be.”
He gave her a stiff smile, pushing his plate away, no longer up to the task of eating as the pressures of his existence weighed on him more forcefully than ever.
He had always been expected to aspire to greatness, to find an eligible husband as soon as possible, to continue his ancestors’ legacy. It had been written into his existence as soon as he was born that his primary duty in life was to progress his ancient familial line. So, he supposed that this development isn’t all that different of a deviation from the original plan. And the prospect of his magical core becoming stronger was rather enticing—becoming biologically more dominant within wizard society than his lineage had already afforded him—it was exciting, regardless of whether or not he’d have to dodge his mother’s meddling and pushing for heirs before he was ready.
And dodge, he would.
___________________________
Three Weeks Later
Breaking News: Ministry Press Conference—What You Need To Know About This Centuries-Old Magical Repopulation Effect
Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt and Mugwump Aurora Tariq held an emergency press briefing detailing the resurgence of a long-dormant magical and biological shift. Mentioned intermittently throughout history, scholars believe this physiological transformation occurs after a significant and catastrophic loss of magical life.
“The last known event of this magnitude occurred following the Great Witch Hunt of Europe and the American colonies during the 15th to 18th century.” Tariq went on to say, “These magically-enhanced biological changes sprouted directly following this tragedy in the late 18th century, in what historians believe to be an innate attempt at magical strengthening, repopulation and societal restructuring.
“While details of the classification systems are limited, we can confirm that this phenomenon is currently re-emerging. Witches, wizards and mages alike born in the Golden Generation can expect these changes to present at adulthood. We are working with historians and archivists to compile evidence-based information on the impacts this resurgence will have on those affected and will keep the public as informed as possible in the coming weeks.”
Theo slapped the Daily Prophet down on the side table. “I hope I’m an Omega.”
“And why would you ever hope for such a thing, Nott?” Draco drawled.
His friend sipped his firewhiskey, shrugging a shoulder. “I dunno, the power dynamics of it all? Alphas sound like they have far too much responsibility, which you know I hate and I already prefer to be submissive in the bedroom, so it’s not too much of a stretch.”
“Hah! Stretch. Because you’re a power bottom?” Blaise asked, lounging lazily on a chaise as he conjured miniature dragons made of wisps of smoke from the tip of his wand.
Theo let out a loud laugh, “Exactly! You get me, Z.”
“Ugh! Please.” Draco’s face pinched, “I don’t want to hear about your sexual proclivities.”
“I wish you would, mate.” Theo said solemnly before rolling his eyes, “Anyway, we can’t all be Alpha pricks like you.”
Draco let out an amused huff, but wouldn’t deny that he expected nothing less than to present as an Alpha within the year.
“According to my research of the family journals the last few weeks—“
“—Swot,” Theo interrupted.
Draco took a calming breath before continuing, “According to my research of the family journals, nearly all Malfoys have presented in the dominant class throughout history. And naturally, I’m a leader, so...”
“Yes, yes, and we can’t forget Head Boy as well.” Theo groaned, “Won’t bloody shut up about it.”
“Who do you reckon Gryffindor’s Head Boy is?” Blaise asked.
Draco rolled his eyes, “Who do you think? Bloody insufferable hero Potter. But my mother insisted I take the position in the name of ‘restoring the family name and ensuring my place in society before my presentation.’”
“And you realize you’ll be sharing living quarters with him for the school year?” Blaise asked with a raised brow.
“I nearly declined against my mother’s wishes, but the more I thought about it, the more appealing it sounded. While sharing a dormitory with him for a school year sounds worse than Azkaban itself,” he sighed, a small grin pulling at his lips, “I’ll be an Alpha—he’ll have to submit to me.”
“Still a narcissistic twat,” Blaise chuckled.
“I still don’t know how you managed Head Boy after killing the Headmaster, and almost killing two? No, three?—students.” Theo tutted, “And letting Death Eaters into the school.”
“Don’t forget that he used an unforgivable on Rosmerta,” Blaise added helpfully.
Draco ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek irritably. “I didn’t kill the headmaster, you fuck—but the other things I did do and, as you know, they keep me up at night, thank you very much. But as for how I managed Head Boy I have to thank Potter who testified for me and my mother at our trials and effectively cleared my name. Not to mention our generous reparations, charitable donations and overall public image shift this past year into that of remorse and inclusivity.”
“Somehow you spiffed up that tarnished reputation rather quickly. I especially loved your little visit to the Janus Thickey Ward. It was heartwarming seeing you hand out plushies to the injured kiddies. Bravo.” Theo lifted his glass in salute.
Draco rolled his eyes, “I actually enjoyed that bit and I didn’t know my mother had planned the photo-op.”
“Yes, yes.” Theo groaned, “You’ve grown a heart which we are all grateful for. Now, tell me what other useful information you’ve gleaned from your little journals.”
Draco sucked his teeth, but was rather pleased to discuss his findings, “The journals, while helpful about Alpha characteristics, are quite vague about Omegas. One ancestor—Maximilian, Magnus or something—was slightly more forthcoming about the mating cycles with his Omega. Called them ‘ruts’ where he’d essentially be overcome with the need to soothe his mate’s heat.”
“So, like dogs,” Blaise said, lifting a thick eyebrow.
“No,” Draco shook his head, “More lycanthropic in nature. Dogs fuck anything if they’re in a rut or a heat. Werewolves are monogamous and mate for life as well as claim their mate in a ritual of sorts. Although I haven’t been able to glean what that ritual entails exactly. But I ordered some rare and quite expensive books from a source I have in Greece. I was told they’d have more information on Omegas, but they’re not arriving for another few weeks. I’m interested to know how the bond works and how, er—the sex…works.”
Theo snorted, “Well, it starts with foreplay—“
“No, you tosser—I know how sex works, but the journals mention physical changes to both Omegas and Alphas after presenting. Oh! Like, for instance, an Alpha’s cock swells and essentially locks in place in order to ensure insemination,” he said enthusiastically, “And Omegas produce a thicker lubrication to accommodate an alpha’s size.”
Theo’s eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline, “Yes! See? That sounds delightful! Lubrication charms only last so long before you need to re-cast.”
“Fucking hell,” Draco groaned.
“I hope I’m a Beta,” Blaise sighed. “I can’t be bothered with nonsense like mating bonds. The idea of being stuck with one person to fuck for the rest of my life sounds like a right bore.”
Draco snorted, “Fair enough. I’d sooner be in the normative class than the submissive. Ugh, actually no, I’d rather Avada myself. Although, don’t get me wrong, I’m excited to have my own Omega. I do like the sound of a man being absolutely obsessed with me and my cock.”
“Don’t forget that the whole point of these…transformations—is to procreate,” Theo said, wincing on the last word.
Draco placed a hand over his heart, “And thank Merlin and Morgana that contraceptive potions exist.”
“And you’re sure you read that in one of those journals?” Theo asked worriedly, “I don’t fancy getting knocked up so young.”
“Indeed.” Draco confirmed, “No teen pregnancies shall be had and Pansy already confirmed with Hogwarts administration that the school will be well-stocked for those that require it.”
“Still trying to wrap my head around the fact that male Omegas can get pregnant. How does that even work?” Blaise asked.
“No idea.” Draco answered with a shrug.
Theo bolted upright, “You don’t reckon the baby comes out of the—“
Draco held up a hand, “Please don’t finish that sentence.”
“I heard the Greengrasses are hoping for a mating bond and heirs as soon as possible,” Blaise said. “If one of them is your mate, Draco, you’ll be having ickle kiddies within the year.”
“Mmm, my mother has been trying to force a run-in with Daphne.” Draco rolled his eyes, “She’s hoping the same, I gather.”
“Daphne was rather fit when I saw her at a gala last month.” Blaise noted, “Maybe she’ll be your obsessive little Omega.”
“I could do worse than a Greengrass,” He agreed.
“I’d bet many pureblood families will be amicable to heirs,” Theo said. “Birthrates have—what did the ministry say?— declined by seventy percent?”
“Seventy-five since the first Wizarding War,” Draco supplied, mindlessly twirling the honeyed liquid in his tumbler.
The floo roared to life as Pansy stepped through, her chin-length onyx hair bobbing as she marched to Blaise’s chaise and shoved his feet off, plopping down ungracefully.
“Well, hello to you, too, Miss Alpha,” Blaise grumbled.
Draco bristled. Pansy was the first of their close circle to show dominant symptoms two weeks ago and he was still taking it rather sorely. He hated the idea of being a late bloomer and loathed the thought of presenting at Hogwarts, or worse, after everyone else in their eighth year had already presented.
Pansy smirked as she summoned a champagne flute and a bottle of Veuve Clicquot from the bar cart.
“While I am quite pleased at besting Draco, I am positively beside myself at the prospect of triggering the presentation of an Omega that I find repulsive.” She shivered, “Like a Huffepuff or someone who’s into feet stuff.”
Theo hummed sympathetically. “That does sound dreadful. Not the feet stuff, but a Hufflepuff.” He shuddered, “Or—fuck me—a self-righteous Gryffindor.”
“Typically, mates who share similar traits would be bonded, so that fear is irrational,” Draco said absently. “Attraction from both parties is a factor, as well as intellectual, anatomical and genealogical compatibility. It’s not unheard of, but it’s highly unlikely you’ll end up with someone who you aren’t compatible with. It’s about progressing magical society.”
“Swot,” Pansy snorted.
He shot her a glare as he stood, dusting an imaginary piece of lint from his suit before downing the dregs of his liquor. “Well, see yourselves out. I’m off to my chambers. Meet you all at King's Cross tomorrow for this hellish journey to our final year of magical education.”
___________________________
The platform was abuzz with chatter and excitement. Firsties and teens being wrangled by frazzled parents as Draco boarded the train and made a direct course to his designated compartment—not designated by anyone in particular, but a compartment he and his friends had commandeered back in first year.
He sat heavily on the cushioned bench and let his mind wander, staring blankly at the streams of students as they bustled about the platform.
For all his griping about going back to Hogwarts, internally he was buzzing—eager even, to have somewhat of a do-over. A chance to put his past transgressions behind him, to show his peers that he was remorseful for his actions during the war, but also the chance to finally academically surpass the world’s biggest overachiever hero. And now, with no evil cabinets to mend, no power-hungry serpentine man crucio-ing his mother if he was displeased, and with the prospect of shifting into an unstoppable Alpha, the Golden Boy didn’t stand a chance.
The compartment door slid open as Blaise slipped in. While outwardly blasé and nonchalant, Blaise Zabini was nothing if not always respectably punctual.
Not long after, Pansy marched in and began a lively retelling about the run-in she had at the 9¾ entrance with a wizard three times her age. Apparently, the ancient wizard’s attempt at a solicitation of Pansy’s affections left him with a deft hex to the family stones.
Pansy sighed irritably. “Another effect of this bloody Alpha designation is that everyone is suddenly drawn to me like a niffler to a knut. Can’t make it two steps without being accosted and practically worshipped—more so than normal, mind you.”
Blaise snickered, “What a plight.”
“He had wrinkles on his wrinkles and he smelled like a corpse,” she said flatly.
The train’s whistle blew—an indication that they’d be departing in five minutes’ time. Draco tapped his signet ring on the windowsill anxiously.
“Every year, he nearly misses the bloody train and gives me a heart attack,” Draco grumbled as he peered out the window in an attempt at willing his curly-haired friend’s arrival through osmosis.
Just as the Hogwarts Express’ magical engine rumbled and began pulling out of the station, their compartment door whipped open and Theo rushed in, looking pale and frazzled. He said nothing as he tucked into the corner seat and scrubbed his hands down his face, mumbling indistinguishable nonsense to himself.
With a sidelong glance at Pansy and Blaise, Draco saw that they too were staring at Theo with knitted brows, perplexed at Nott’s atypical countenance.
“Er, everything alright there, Theodore?” Blaise hedged.
Theo startled, as if he had forgotten that they were there, and shook his head, eyes wide. He gulped audibly, his mouth opening and closing as tiny squeaks escaped his throat.
“Salazar, Theo, what happened?” Draco asked, genuinely concerned now.
“I—I don’t—it’s not possible—it’s mad—yes, mad,” Theo muttered manically, adjusting his trousers as he whimpered softly.
Pansy placed a tentative hand on Nott’s shoulder and he flinched away as if he’d been burned, “Don’t!” he shouted. “Don’t fucking touch me!”
“Theodore!” Pansy growled, her tone biting. Something about it made the three wizards in the compartment shrivel. Draco’s own balls retreated into himself. “What. Happened?” she demanded.
Theo whimpered again as he shook his head more forcefully, his hands coming to bracket his temples as he panted, “R-remember how I s-said I wished I’d present as an Omega?”
They all nodded, urging him to go on.
He swallowed thickly, his voice shaking and squeaky, “Well, I think I got my wish.”
Draco’s mouth popped open in shock as Pansy’s manicured fingers came to cup her mouth.
“Ah, congrats then?” Blaise said, the sentence ending with more of a question than a statement. “Who—er—who’s the lucky Alpha?”
Theo flicked his panicked eyes to Draco before he looked away and gnawed on his lower lip.
Draco’s heartbeat began to thump erratically.
“Well—“ Theo sucked in a jagged breath. “I just ran into none other than the Weasley himself as I was boarding the train.”
Draco waited for his friend to continue, but Theo just stared at him, lips wobbling.
“Okayyy,” Draco replied slowly, “What does that have to do with—” His jaw clicked shut as realization hit.
Pansy gasped, “No!”
Blaise guffawed, “You’re mated with Ron fucking Weasley?!”