Chapter 3
You awoke in the morning to a soft rapping on your door.
Sitting up, you were confused about your surroundings for a moment, expecting to wake up into a brightly lit room.
This room was quite dark still, despite the sunlight seeping in through the paneled windows. The roses still had a softly glow on the nightstand to your right, which you now noticed sent little swirls of very soft blue light along the wall behind them.
The door slowly opened, a fully-dressed Draco poking his head into the room.
“Mornin’,” he greeted, noticing you were awake and finally welcoming himself into the room. “Mother prepared some breakfast. Told me to ask if you wanted anything.”
“Yeah,” you mumbled, half-asleep still as you rubbed your eyes. “Yeah, give me a second.”
“Um…you should probably dress before coming down,” he muttered, glancing at your pyjamas. “Mother is pretty strict with dressing before starting your day.”
He motioned to his own fairly nice clothes, which seemed to be the casual dress for the Malfoy family.
You nodded your head, watching him as he left and shut the door behind him.
Forcing yourself out from underneath your comfortable blankets, you moved over to the dresser, where you stored some of your pants and underwear last night, and picked out the nicest pair you had in there, moving to your closet to pick a shirt. You didn’t want Mrs. Malfoy to view you any lower than she probably already did, so you made sure you looked decent.
You made your way out of the room, turned around in the still-unfamiliar manor. It was all dimly-lit still, even during the day, but you finally remembered which way to turn, somehow managin to make your way into the dining room (although you were totally surprised that you found it).
Draco was already at the table, shovelling some eggs into his mouth as he read this morning’s copy of the Daily Prophet . There was a smirk plastered across his face, and when you walked over to sit down across from him, where a plate of food was already waiting for you, he handed you the papers.
“Look who made the news,” he sneered, and from the triumphant glint in his eyes, you knew it had something to do with Potter.
Skimming it through, you could see that Dumbledore’s tale about Lord Voldemort being back had spread, all connecting back to Harry Potter. Not a single nice, supportive thing had been said about the story, which made you smirk as well.
“Not much of a hero now, is he?” you commented, handing the papers back to Draco.
“Heroes never last long. Although I wonder what happened to that Skeeter woman, because I haven’t seen any articles from her for a while.”
You shrugged, equally as confused, as you began to pick at your food. It was just as tasty as the food from dinner the night before, and still feeling quite hungry, you began to shovel the contents into your mouth. Since neither of Draco’s parents were around, you didn’t quite care about manners.
That mindset came too soon, though, because just when you stuffed your mouth so much to the point it was almost (almost!) difficult to chew, Mrs. Malfoy entered.
You glanced up at her, aware your cheeks were probably puffed like a chipmunk. You knew your face was red with embarrassment; you were trying so hard to get them to like you, and this was probably not the best impression to make.
“Chew your food,” she commented, her face of disgust deepening to perfectly match the one Draco wore. “You are not an animal.”
You quickly chewed and swallowed, trying not to choke, before murmuring a quiet apology, no longer hungry. For someone typically as confident as you were around others, there was something about the Malfoys that intimidated you.
“All I did was tell you to eat nicely, not to stop eating altogether,” she added in a slightly softer tone, as if noticing what you were thinking, sitting down in the seat next to Draco. “I hope you slept well?”
“Yes, ma’am, I did,” you replied, eating much slower now, the embarrassment still heavy in your stomach.
“Draco informed me that you’re in need of new clothes,” Narcissa continued, helping herself to a little bit of food off of his plate, who stared at her with an annoyed side-eye (which seemed to be a signature Malfoy expression). “With Lucius being at work, I figured we could take a trip to Diagon Alley today and get you some new things.”
She eyed you, brown eyes narrowing, before she added contemptuously, “That way you at least look like you belong here.”
The comment stung a little bit, but you bit your tongue. Having an attitude with Draco’s parents would not be a good idea.
“Yes, I’d appreciate that, ma’am,” you replied through partially gritted teeth, finishing the last of your breakfast.
“Well, you two, go finish getting ready and then we can leave,” she said, standing up and leaving the room.
“She was so kind last night,” you grumbled to your friend, grabbing your plate to take care of it. “Why’s she treating me like I’m the scum of the land now?”
“I’ve told you, my family is very proud,” Draco replied, grabbing his own plate before beckoning you to follow him, presumably to the kitchen. “Even though you’re nearly a pureblood, it’s your Mudblood father that is the issue, and the fact that your parents are Dumbledore supporters. You’ll have to earn their respect.”
“I feel like if I were on the ground kissing their feet, they’d still kick me in the nose like I’m a dog and call me a disgrace,” you snarled, following him by setting your plate in the sink, which began self-washing the dishes.
“Give her time. She’s heard enough about you to know you’re a trustworthy person, you’re just going to have to prove to her that you’re worth keeping around.”
After the two of you headed off to your rooms to finish getting ready, you met up in the hall, making your way into the drawing room, where Narcissa was sitting in one of the armchairs reading, a small cup of coffee in her hand. She had reading glasses perched on her nose, but when she noticed the two of you, the mug, papers, and glasses vanished.
“Well, now that we’ve wasted our morning, shall we get going?” she asked, rising to her feet.
Wow, what an impatient woman, you thought, eyeing her as if her attitude were contagious.
You were expecting her to go to the flames to travel by Floo, as your parents typically did, but instead she took Draco by the hand, looking at you for a long moment. You could tell she was about to Apparate there, but you also had a feeling that she didn’t want to touch you.
“I’ll hold Draco’s hand so I don’t contaminate you,” you grumbled, forgetting to be nice as you reached for his other arm.
In a swift movement, Narcissa’s arm whipped out, gently grabbing your hand into her own as she pulled you over onto her other side.
You stood there dazed for a moment, not having a moment to process as she Apparated into Diagon Alley with the two of you, both hand-in-hand with her. You felt like a small child, holding her mummy’s hand, and desperately wanted to pull away, especially since you were sure you squeezed her poor fingers tightly when the terrible pressure trapped you during the travels.
But as a young teenager who only wants her inner child to be loved, despite your desire to pull away, you held onto her, craving a mother’s touch. Even after Draco had let go of her hand as if touching her zapped him, you tightened your grip, as if you were afraid that letting go would cause you to lose her.
Mrs. Malfoy was gazing at you with an expression that you found hard to read, before she said, “Let go of my hand.”
Feeling the rejection hit you hard, you quickly let go, pretending as if you didn’t even realise you were still holding it.
You were hurt for a moment, before it quickly turned into anger toward her. She very easily could have just let go, but instead she found it better to directly call you out on doing it.
Draco could definitely sense your growing anger, because he tugged on your shirt sleeve, insisting you to follow him.
Glaring daggers at Mrs. Malfoy, who met your eye with another unreadable expression, you followed Draco down the alley and toward the many shops.
“Don’t be angry with her,” Draco commented. “You made it into a bigger problem than it needed to be.”
“ I made it into a problem?” you snapped as you stopped walking, earning a few head-turns from surrounding wizards. “ She started it!”
“Don’t you blame my mother!”
“I can blame her all I want, you spoiled, rotten prat!”
“Who do you think you are, speaking like that to me?”
Your anger was rising, and you felt like all of your emotions were about to burst. You were about to make another angry retort before there was a hand on your shoulder, and everything fizzled away with a terrible pressure before you landed somewhere new with a loud pop .
You whipped around with hot, angry tears streaming down your face, ready to fight your attacker.
What you weren’t expecting was Narcissa Malfoy, whose expression was calm anger at first before her eyes widened.
You quickly wiped your tears away, hating that she saw you like this. You never let anyone see you like this. You couldn’t believe you let your temper get the best of you in public. That never happened before; why were you so angry ?
“How dare you?” she asked quietly, her voice sounding dangerous, eyes boring into your own. “You were openly provoking my son into a fight in the middle of a large crowd of people. What makes you think any of that is okay?”
You wanted to reply, but you couldn’t even muster the energy to look away from her eyes, which were now ablaze with fury.
“I advocated for you when Lucius discussed with me about you staying,” she continued. “We’re doing it for Draco. It’s not even been a day and you’re making me regret my decision.”
“It’s not like I even wanted to stay with you,” you snapped in reply, anger growing along with her’s. “If my worthless parents didn’t hate me, you wouldn’t have needed to put up with me.”
“You are a disgraceful little brat,” she spat. “I am taking you home.”
She gripped your arm (pretty tight actually, ouch) and Apparated again.
You were expecting to see your own house, realising that this was over. Through the pressure on your brain from the Apparation, all you could think about was how you always seemed to ruin things. You’ve never fought with Draco before, but the first time you do, it’s because you’re living with him?
As you landed, you felt tears prick your eyes as you expected to see your own house, but you were now back in your bedroom at the Malfoys, where Narcissa waved her wand at the door, slamming it shut and locking it, before Disapparating, leaving you alone.
***
Hours had passed, and you weren’t even sure if anyone was home yet.
You were laying on the floor drawing, keeping your back turned to the door. It was a portrait of your parents, except they were gazing at you in the drawing with smiling, loving faces. That was an expression you could never remember seeing from them.
As upset as you were, you still felt a soft warmth in your chest that Narcissa already called this place your home. You had the feeling that she was just saying it was her home, but you wanted to believe she included you in the manor’s residency.
You heard the door open, but you chose to ignore whoever stepped in. You were honestly half-expecting Mr. Malfoy to start screaming at you, but instead a shadow just fell over your work as you felt someone kneel down next to you.
“You like to draw?” a quiet voice asked, and you finally turned to look at who had come in.
Narcissa was sitting there, her two-toned hair falling gently over her shoulders. She wasn’t dressed in her usual daytime fancy outfits, but something seemingly more comfortable and more casual.
You were shocked that she was so near you after what happened earlier.
You were also shocked by the soft, apologetic look on her face. She leaned over your sketchbook, examining the photo.
“Those are your parents?” she asked, looking back at you.
You nodded your head, getting up from your stomach to sit upright, hugging your knees to your chest. You wanted to make yourself small, wanted her to leave.
“You’re very talented,” she continued. “You seem to be quite skilled with drawing people. Who else have you drawn?”
“I like to draw Draco a lot, actually,” you replied quietly, quickly skimming the pages to find your favourite you’ve done of him, turning it toward her so she could look.
She moved closer, turning the sketchbook slightly more toward herself without taking it directly, before a soft smile spread across her face.
“I used to draw and paint as a child. I don't do much anymore, but it was something I quite enjoyed doing in my free time.”
“Why’d you stop?” you asked her, curious.
“Well, when I married Lucius and got…well, roped into all of the Dark Lord’s plans,” she murmured, “I had to play host quite a bit. And then when Draco was born, I had to care for a child. I’m sure I could find the time now, but unfortunately with the lack of a house elf, I need to clean the manor.”
You nodded, unsure of how else to respond. Your hatred for Lucius began to grow, mainly because it seems he couldn’t have been bothered to help Narcissa with anything around the house.
“Anyway,” Narcissa continued, her voice sounding like business again, “I wanted to speak to you about this morning. Your behaviour was unacceptable, and I expect you to make up with Draco by morning. Lucius will not be informed of our slight hiccup, but if any outbursts happen again, he will be. I won’t punish you this time, but I can promise that he’s not as forgiving as I.”
At that, she pushed herself to her feet and left the room, softly closing the door behind her.
Your anger toward her grew again. She welcomed herself into your room, told you how talented you were, just to immediately turn around and scold you for something she caused?
She doesn’t control your temper, a little voice in the back of your mind told you, but you waved it away, annoyed that your own self-awareness was getting in the way of your desire to be mad at anyone else but yourself.
But she was correct. You needed to go speak with Draco, so you finally got up off of the floor to head down to his room.
You walked a little ways down the hall, his door hard to miss with Draco’s Room spelled out in gold lettering on the front of it, along with the Slytherin serpent. You knocked, a little anxious that he’d still be mad.
He opened the door, staring at you for a moment before crossing his arms.
“You ruined a good shopping day,” he said, clearly still angry (which you couldn’t blame him).
“Yeah…” you muttered, not meeting his eye. “I just wanted to come and say I’m sorry. I’ve never acted like that toward you before, so I don’t know what got into me.”
“Yeah…it kind of took me a little by surprise. But I guess I can understand why you did it.”
“How? I don’t even know why I acted that way.”
That statement was true. You still couldn’t quite figure out what triggered you to act like that. It couldn’t just have been because you held onto Narcissa’s hand for a second too long.
“Look,” he started, motioning you to come in before he shut the door behind you, “I know how your mind works. You came here expecting a warm welcome for some reason, for my parents to open their arms to you and immediately treat you as one of their own, like your parents did to me.
“But they aren’t like that, which you also know. I think you're angry at your own parents for kicking you out like they did, which, as you should be, but that anger is manifesting toward people who’ve done you no harm.
“I also think you’re setting unreasonable expectations for my parents; they’re not warm and fuzzy. You need to stop viewing them as such.”
“I literally saw a portrait in the hall of your mother smothering you with kisses,” you replied, sceptical of the “not warm and fuzzy” bit.
“They don’t like outsiders,” he explained, sitting down on his bed. “If you stop expecting them to treat you like their own child, it will be much easier to live here. Just…stick with me, okay? Don’t try to seek out a relationship with either of them, because I can’t guarantee it will work out in your favour. Hell, sometimes I wish I could go back to first year and tell you not to talk to me, just to save you from all of the trouble I’ve gotten you in.”
You paused to think of a response for a moment, looking around the room.
It was quite large, painted a dark green. He also had a fireplace similar to your own, except little trinkets decorated the mantel. Some were Quidditch themed, others seemed to be prizes or just other little things he owned.
His walls were decorated with posters, some of Quidditch players, some of things he liked, and one of them was a tapestry with the Slytherin House Crest imprinted on it.
There was also a portrait of him above the mantel as a child with his parents, seemingly in his first year at Hogwarts. His Nimbus 2001 was hanging against the wall next to his door.
Despite the grandeur of the room, his bed was only a twin size, propped against the right corner of the room, where you now moved to sit on as well.
“I think you’re right,” you murmured. “Maybe my desire for a happy family was clouding my judgement of people.”
“Yeah, I’ve never seen you trust a person so fast as you have my parents,” he teased, smirking.
“Apparently my morals are faltering,” you replied, feeling much better than you did earlier.
He put his arm around you, pulling you in for a half-hug, which you quickly returned. You took this as him letting you know that you were forgiven.
The door immediately swung up, causing you to jump slightly, Lucius standing there with a slight smirk on his face.
“Get out here,” he snarled to Draco, before turning to you and muttering, “I guess you should, as well.”
You and Draco exchanged confused looks before following Lucius down the hall into the drawing room.
“Wonder what he wants,” you murmured to your friend, who only shrugged in response.
The sight you were met with left you breathless and almost keeling to the floor.
Narcissa was standing next to one of the armchairs by the fireplace, turning her head to look at the three of you as you entered.
She wasn’t alone, though, because standing across from her was a mousey man, heavy-set with a large nose and front teeth. He looked like a rat, you thought to yourself.
But what made you feel slightly cold was the figure standing right in front of the flames.
Pale and snake-like, turning and staring at you with intense interest, Lord Voldemort turned his full attention on you, his large snake coiling around his shoulders, flicking its tongue at you.
You never truly stopped to prepare for the moment you’d meet him, but you weren’t expecting these emotions you felt right now. You felt full of dread, yet something deep inside told you that he wouldn’t hurt you. Of course, you’ve never done anything wrong to him; why would he have a reason to hurt you?
He’s a Dark wizard, THE Dark wizard…why would he need a reason to hurt you? the voice in your mind taunted, but you quickly pushed it away.
“So you’re the child the Malfoys are playing host to,” he said in a whispery-sounding voice, speaking directly to you. “I’m sure you know who I am?”
You nodded, making sure to reply with, “You’re the Dark Lord, sir,” so he didn’t find you disrespectful.
You had a strange feeling as if every thought in your mind was being invaded, but after a moment, Voldemort motioned to the empty armchairs, beckoning the rest of you to sit down.
You and Draco moved to fill the empty sofa, Narcissa taking a seat in the armchair she was standing nearest, Lucius sitting across from her to be directly next to Lord Voldemort.
You caught Narcissa glance over at you and Draco, seemingly panicked for a moment, before the expression vanished and she turned back to the Dark Lord.
“I have many plans I would like to discuss with you all,” Lord Voldemort began, “but first I would like to get to meet your guest.”
He turned his snake-like eyes toward you, and once again you felt the sensation of someone poking around in your brain.
Skilled Legilimens, you thought, remembering how Voldemort was capable of Legilimency stronger than any other wizard in the world. You felt like you should be disturbed, petrified, but all you felt was intense curiosity at what he may want with you.
Narcissa rose from her seat, making her way over to sit directly next to you. She quickly explained, “My apologies, my Lord, I was having difficulty seeing you from my position. Forgive me.”
“You are forgiven,” Voldemort replied, seeming to be unfazed by her movement anyway.
Narcissa’s hand found your arm, gently gripping your wrist, and you cast her a quick sideways glance in confusion, only to see a passive expression on her face, as if she never did it.
“You come from a blood traitor mother and a Mudblood father, both strong supporters of the Order,” he continued, eyeing you with that intense stare still. “Yet, you’ve been welcomed into the Malfoy family with open arms, and unlike many others, you seem to be able to speak directly to me without fear.
“Your family were Hufflepuff, I see, former Order members, but you have turned to the Dark Side. Because of these arrangements, I’d expect to see you at all of our meetings from here on.”
Narcissa’s grip tightened slightly, but her expression still didn’t waver. You chose to ignore her.
“Of course, my Lord,” you replied, bowing your head to him. “I won’t disappoint.”
“I would expect not,” he replied, turning to Lucius. “We will begin having meetings soon to discuss recollecting the rest of my Death Eaters from Azkaban. Until then, you know what to do.”
At that, Lord Voldemort and the rat-man Apparated out of the room with a pop , plunging the four of you into silence, the only sound from the crackling of the wooden logs in the fire.
“He actually seemed to accept you,” Lucius said in a slight accusatory tone, glancing over at you. “Now that you’ve officially joined our side, I expect not one single step out of line. The Dark Lord is not a merciful man.”
At that, the blonde removed himself from the chair, exiting down one of the halls.
Narcissa’s hand was still wrapped around your wrist and you went to tug it free, unsuccessful as she pulled you very close to her.
“Be careful,” she whispered, as if speaking any louder would alert Lord Voldemort of treachery. “You just got yourself into something that you will never be able to get out of and remain alive. You are still a child, fifteen years of age or not.”
At that, she dismissed you and Draco, summoning a glass of wine as she remained sitting on the sofa, seeming lost in thought.