So it starts
Up until fairly recently, well recently in relation to how long I've been alive, I thought that my parents were fine upstanding citizens within the wizarding world. For a long time I thought that my father was respected within the walls of the ministry. I later realised that it wasn't respect, it was fear.
In the stories of Voldemort I was told, he was the Hiro, romanticized even, especially by Bellatrix, who was very open about her feelings towards Voldemort.
For a long time I believed what my parents believed, you tend to believe what your parents tell you. Why would they lie to you? but I've come to the realisation that maybe they didn't know any better themselves.
I believed that since we were pure bloods that we had more natural ability than any half blood or Muggle born, this was quickly shown to be false, when I was so often bested by Hermione Granger. A girl who at the time I thought was beneath me, both her parents were dentists, not a bit of magical blood in there veins. Yet she successfully brewed the Polyjuice Potion at the age of twelve.
Hermione had been making small quantities of Polyjuice Potion for a while. This came out later in my story, not to use but just in case, which was how we just so happened to have some when we needed it. She was always very proud of her parents professions. It was an alien concept to me, for a mother to go back to work after having a child. Hermione had said to me quite pointedly that not everyone is born into money. She's proud of the fact that her parents had to work to give her the life she had, they'd scrimped and saved, and although it wasn't grand, their house was comfortable.
Her parents were warm and welcoming. I'd naively wondered if they'd have been so welcoming if they'd known how I'd treated there daughter. Hermione who was a natural at Occlumency, a talent I will freely admit I've never mastered. Hermione turned to me and said "they know, but they believe in seeing the best in people, and giving second chances".
Even Ron's family were welcoming after the initial, and frankly deserved hostility towards me. I had stayed with the Weasley's, safely hidden away after my apparent death. I was worried about staying with them, worried that I'd be painted with the same brush as my family, Bellatrix had tried to use the killing curse against Ginny, who I now see almost as a sister. I had been like them, my parents I idolized them, but now I am trying to change, to be better.
Molly had spoken to me on the subject of Bellatrix saying "it wasn't you who tried to kill Ginny, so any hostility against you for that wouldn't be justified". Molly Weasley has become like a mother to me, like the mother I always wanted. On mother's day, I nervously left a mother's day card on her bed, not wanting to make a show, but wanting her to know that I appreciated her taking me in. I was amazed to see my card displayed along with everyone else's.
I actually cried on christmas day when I was given my own knitted jumper, it was wrapped in brown paper. On the front of the dark green jumper were the letters Dr. It's actually one of the reasons I chose the name Drake. I can still wear my favourite jumper, it makes me remember that I can change, and other people also believe that I can change, I won't let them down.