Chapter 5
The school year came and went. Your year of being a prefect was slightly ruined, given how you and Draco joined Umbridge’s Inquisitorial Squad (you both agreed you hated her, but it gave you both power over the other students and teachers, so you took the opportunity).
Dumbledore was gone for a while, which you couldn’t hide how excited you felt over that, but you were hit with great disappointment once he returned.
You were also disappointed that Umbridge took over as Headmistress, somewhat hoping for McGonagall to take the throne (you absolutely adored her, but you felt her dislike toward you only grew after the Umbridge incidents).
You also were quite positive you did poorly on your O.W.Ls, so that really topped off your already-lame fifth year at Hogwarts.
Although, you feel like Draco’s went worse.
After the obnoxious group of students that follow Potter around invaded the Ministry of Magic and fought Lord Voldemort’s Death Eaters (which that lousy Conrelius Fudge finally admitted was back), Lucius Malfoy had gotten himself locked up in Azkaban, along with several of the others.
Shortly before the end of the school year, you had also received your first owl from your parents since the last school year, and it was thoroughly worse than the first letter.
Surrounding yourself with that crowd! We cannot believe you, and expressing we’re disappointed does not merely skim the surface of what we truly feel! Joining the “Inquisitorial Squad,” as your sister put it, attacking Harry Potter with Draco Malfoy.
Speaking of Malfoy, is that where you’ve been staying?! To say we’re not surprised would be true, but the Malfoys are known Death Eaters. How dare you betray us? How dare you join their side?
We will allow you to return home once to collect your belongings here. If all is not collected after that one time, it will be destroyed by our own hands. We never want to see your traitorous face in these halls again, and if it were to happen, we won’t hesitate to protect ourselves. You have until the end of summer.
The Malfoys…how unbelievable, you scum! Sixteen years-old, already incorporating yourself in with the wrong crowd. We knew you weren’t right in the head, but this has gone too far. You are no daughter of ours.
You read it several times, even though it hurts each and every one.
It’s been a week since school ended, and now you were sitting in your room back at Malfoy Manor, which had not yet held the contents from your room back at your parents house.
It was quite a mess in here, actually: clothes were strewn out all over the floor, which you were yet to wash and put away. Your Firebolt was still on the floor, Valkyrie’s cage needed cleaning, and there was a thin layer of dust forming on top of the mantelpiece.
You’ve spent more time locked in your room than you had before. Draco hardly ever left his as well, although you knew he came out much more than you did.
You were mainly avoiding Narcissa’s sister, Bellatrix Lestrange.
Since she has escaped from Azkaban, she’s been living with the Malfoys, and while you were sure she knew of your existence inside the mansion, you were yet to meet her. Whenever dinner was served, it was just you and Draco at the table, and most of the time the two of you quickly shovelled food in your mouths without speaking, then went back to your rooms.
You finally finished Narcissa’s fox drawing for her not too long ago, though, so you’d need to go out and see her eventually.
The little fox was in an enchanted loop on the page, sitting for a moment flicking its tail, would stand up and run in a circle, and then sit back down and do it over again.
There was a knock on your door, and after you mumbled a quiet, “Come in,” it opened to reveal Draco standing there, dressed in his nice clothes.
“Meeting,” he mumbled, clearly not wanting to go. “You’re dressed nicely, right?”
Most of your wardrobe now was very Malfoy-esque, so of course you were dressed nicely. You climbed out of bed to prove it, and after you did so, the two of you made your way down into the drawing room.
While there were some newly recruited Death Eaters sitting at the large table, Lord Voldemort at the head, there were still several empty seats from the members that the Ministry had captured.
Your usual seat, though, was not empty.
Sitting there was a woman, with unruly dark hair, sunken in cheeks, and dark circles under her eyes. She looked slightly maniacal, and radiated a type of wild energy that the others in the room didn’t.
She was also gazing at Voldemort as if he were the spawn of a god, and it was that moment that you realised this was Narcissa’s sister; you finally recognized her from her picture in the Prophet and store windows, but she doesn’t look as sickly now (still just as insane, though).
You caught Narcissa’s eye, wondering where to sit, and you watched her motion with her eyes toward Lucius’s empty seat. Aware that you probably shouldn’t be sitting there, you quietly sat down between her and another Death Eater, trying to remain as small as possible.
“As you all may know, several of us have recently been imprisoned in Azkaban,” Voldemort began. “They are being guarded by Ministry Aurors, but the dementors are now on our side, breeding as we speak.”
You began to drown him out, only half-paying attention to what was being said.
It was one of those days where your parents’ letter was heavy on your mind, sitting inside your pocket, and Voldemort’s plans of bringing back his imprisoned Death Eaters seemed like nothing compared to what you were going through.
You thought about how your Gryffindor brother was friends with Harry, so was surely getting insight on you through Potter, who for some reason always seemed to have his eye on you and Draco.
If you ever met your Hufflepuff sister’s eye in the halls, she’d give you a dirty look, mumble to her friends, and then ignore you.
Both of your siblings seemed to be avoiding you now more than ever, and the realisation hurt more than how your parents viewed you. Them you could do without; but your siblings were always the two most important people in your life, and now they’ve turned away from you as well.
Before you knew it, the meeting was over. Death Eaters began to file out of the house, and you were vaguely aware of Voldemort speaking to Narcissa for a moment, then he too left, his massive snake trailing after him.
Now the room was silent, which forced you to resurface from the depths of your mind.
Especially now that you felt an unfamiliar hand touching you.
“And who might you be?” a voice whispered from behind, hand touching your arm. Hair brushed your face as she moved around, leaning against the table in front of you.
“Cissy told me we have a guest staying,” Bellatrix continued, stroking your hair now.
You stood up, backing away from her, repulsed at her touch. You hated when anyone touched you (except Draco or Narcissa, of course).
“Yes, that would be me,” you replied curtly, slowly backing toward the Malfoys.
“Aw, are you scared of me?” she continued in a mocking voice. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. After all, you are one of us, are you not?”
You nodded tensely, just hoping she wouldn’t touch you again.
“You’re not very talkative, are you? Cissy told me your father is a Mudblood; is that true?”
You nodded again, very keen on not speaking unless necessary.
“Come on,” Draco murmured, tugging lightly on your sleeve. “She’s going to start provoking you.”
“Oh, look at Draco, trying to save you,” Bellatrix continued. “I’m only asking a few innocent questions, sweet boy.”
“That’s enough, Bella,” Narcissa ordered, her voice quiet. “Leave her alone.”
Bellatrix laughed, something shrill and maniacal, reflecting the expression that never seemed to leave her eyes.
“Oh, she doesn’t belong here, does she?” Bellatrix said, as if noticing something that initially wasn’t seen before. “I’m sure Lucius will be thrilled to hear that his vacant spot as the third Malfoy has been filled by a half-blood who can’t even speak. Tell me, can you explain why you think you belong here?”
“I belong here no more than you do!” you spat, feeling your temper rise with every word she spoke. “You’re not a Malfoy, either, so what makes you think you can speak to me that way? I’ve lived here longer than you have!”
She laughed again, but made no more snide comments except for, “Oh, so you can speak!”
Draco finally uprooted you from your spot, and you followed him down the hall and back toward your rooms.
You both skipped over your bedroom and headed for his, where he opened the door and steered you inside, quickly shutting it behind him.
“She likes to get under peoples’ skin,” he explained. “Don’t feed into it. She’s always looking for a fight, and enjoys taunting for the fun of it. Aunt Bella is also the Dark Lord’s strongest supporter; I’m actually quite convinced she’s in love with him.”
You thought of Voldemort’s pale, snake-like face, and shuddered at the thought. How could anyone be in love with him?
“I noticed you zoning out at the table,” Draco murmured quietly, sitting on his bed, which was now queen-sized, still tucked into the corner. You followed and sat beside him. “What were you thinking about?”
Having not spoken to him much since the end of the school year, especially since Potter and his friends hit him with jinxes and curses again in the train (the information made Narcissa angrier than you’d ever seen), you never told him about the letter from your parents. Always carrying it on you, you removed it from your pocket and handed it to him.
He was silent for a moment as he read it, then his face contorted into a look of mingled rage and disgust.
That expression immediately softened into one of sick guilt, and he lowered the letter, staring ahead at nothing.
For the first time in about a week, you really got a good look at him.
His face was somehow whiter than usual, and there seemed to be dark circles under his eyes as if he wasn’t sleeping. There was also a heavily defeated energy to him, and you were positive Lucius being imprisoned had something to do with it.
“I made them hate you more than they already did,” he murmured, and you could see tears welling in his eyes. “It’s all my fault.”
“No, Draco, it’s not,” you insisted, and your own eyes began to water. “I made my choice to live with you. Haven’t you wondered why I came back with you this summer instead of going home?”
“I thought you preferred being here.”
“I do!” you insisted, the tears now streaming down your face rapidly. “But I just want to be home, with my family! With the war, they could die at any moment and I’d have never made peace, never got to say goodbye. They probably wouldn’t let me, though, because I’ve always been their biggest embarrassment.
“I used to hide myself from them, tried so hard to be a good daughter, and yet I’m still openly hated for who I am. At least your parents love you, Draco…mine never even gave me the time of day, and I am constantly left wondering why, by Merlin’s beard, I’m the one person in the entire family who ended up different. Wrong.”
You weren’t able to speak anymore; tears were now falling so thickly down your face, and for the first time ever, you began openly sobbing in front of someone else.
He quickly put his arms around you, hugging you tightly, and you fell against him, crying into his chest.
“I wish your family wanted me as badly as I want to be here,” you finally managed to get out between hiccups. “I just want to be accepted. Do you know how much I loathe myself because I turned out the way I did? You’re the only true friend I have, and everyone at the school gives me horrible looks.”
“I understand how you feel,” Draco murmured, still hugging you. “But you’ve got me, and you have Mother, and we’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”
“Does she even want me around?” you whispered, the question having been burning in your mind for ages now.
“She’s very fond of you,” he replied, and you could tell he was being truthful. “When you returned for the holiday, she told me how glad she was that you came back. She enjoys having you around.”
You sniffled, the information bringing a smile to your face. Even though she was Draco’s mum, you’ve desperately needed someone to get these thoughts out to.
“Your aunt is…” you began, unsure of how to finish your sentence.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure Mother is scolding her right now,” Draco replied, scoffing. “You’ll get used to her. Ignore her antics long enough and she’ll back off.”
“Maybe for you. I’m not a part of the family, and I’m not exactly pureblood either.”
He was silent, and you knew it left him at a loss for words.
“I should give your mum her drawing I made,” you finally said, pulling away. “Even if she’s talking to your aunt, I’ll have to do something somehow. Especially since I’ve been kind of avoiding her since we got home.”
“Yeah, that would probably be best,” Draco replied, gazing around his room. “I want to redecorate here, so that gives me an opportunity to do so.”
You nodded and left, walking back down toward your own room.
What you weren’t expecting was to see Bellatrix standing in there, turning around in a circle to look at your walls.
“Nice to finally put a face to the interesting decorations in here,” she said, clearly having been inside it before. “Tell me, can you explain why these photos are stationary?”
She pointed to the Metallica poster you had on the wall.
“Can you explain why you’re in my room?” you replied, narrowing your eyes at her.
“You snide little girl, answer my question!”
“They’re Muggle bands I grew up listening to,” you replied, feeling frozen to the spot.
Narcissa’s drawing was sitting on the nightstand, but you’d have to walk by Bellatrix to grab it.
“Muggle bands?” she spat. “How dare you taint this house with Muggle posters?”
“It’s something my dad listened to! I’m not taking it down!”
“Just wait until Cissy hears what you’ve done here! Infecting this beautiful wizard manor with Muggle filth!”
She made for the door, where you were standing, and before you could stop yourself, you whipped your wand out of your pocket, pointing it at her.
Narcissa already saw what you did with the room, of course, so you didn’t even care. You only cared about settling your disagreement with Bellatrix, who had also drawn her wand.
“You want to fight me, do you?” she hissed. “Then do it. Prove to me how powerful a Muggle-loving half-blood is.”
Her taunts made you desperate to prove that you can do it, that you are powerful, but instead you lowered your wand and pushed by her, making your way toward your bed.
“A real witch would fight me!” she screamed, and you knew she threw a curse toward you just in time to turn around and deflect it.
“Throw a curse with my back turned again and you won’t live to see another day!” you screamed in return, anger boiling in your stomach again. “And I’m telling Mrs. Malfoy what you just did.”
“Oh, you couldn’t!” Bellatrix replied in a mocking tone, throwing her hand dramatically across her chest.
She moved closer to you, trapping you against the wall, face inches from yours. Her wild hair tickled your forehead, but you didn’t flinch away.
“Who do you think she would side with, child?” she whispered. “Her sister, or a half-blood who’s trying too desperately to be wanted?”
At that, she cackled and turned around, whipping the vase of roses off the stand, and left the room, slamming the door shut behind her.
You stared at where she disappeared for a moment before you screamed in anger, whipping around to punch the wall behind you. It caved in under your fist, and you felt your knuckles crack open, but it was enough to release the heavy emotions you were feeling. You lifted your wand and mumbled, “Reparo,” watching as the cracked wood fixed itself.
Bellatrix wasn’t worth getting angry over, but you knew you had just made an enemy out of her.
For once, you actually wished Lucius was back; you’d take him over her any day.
You attempted to mend your bloody knuckles, which worked of course, then turned to the broken vase and roses on the floor, repairing it as well before setting it back on the table.
What you didn’t expect to see written on the bottom of the vase, in familiar loopy handwriting, was “With love, Narcissa.”
With love, you thought, a soft smile spreading across your face.
These roses had always sat by your bed, but you never thought to remove them from the table, let alone look at the bottom of their vase. Had she truly always wanted you around, even before you met?
You grabbed your drawing for her, quickly signed the same words with your own name on the back, then made your way out of the room.
Thankfully, there was no sign of Bellatrix, so you made your way to find Narcissa.
You checked a couple of places before making your way into the living room, where the woman was curled up on one of the armchairs, reading a book. She was in her pajamas, clearly done for the night, hair down, slightly wet and curled, falling over her shoulders. You weren’t sure if she noticed your presence, especially since she looked what you feel she’d consider indecent to someone not family, so you shuffled slightly into the room, afraid she’d be mad at you after the disagreement you just had with Bellatrix (and for invading her privacy).
“Mrs. Malfoy?” you murmured cautiously, almost afraid to see anger when she looked up and met your eye.
She wasn’ angry though, thankfully, because her face broke out into a soft smile as she marked her page in the book, setting it aside before removing her readers as well.
“What is it, darling?” she asked, tilting her head at you.
This was your first time really talking to her since you got home from school, and one of the rare occasions you’ve been without Draco. It felt weird talking to his mum without him around, but you had to remind yourself that you’re living with them and you don’t need his permission to wander around.
“I, uh…I have something for you,” you said, stepping forward to hand her the sketch before backig away again.
She looked at it for a moment, turned it over in her hand to read what was written on the back, and then smiled.
She set it down on top of her book and stood up, making her way over to you, before pausing a few steps away, looking slightly uncertain.
“May I hug you?” she asked, and the sentence took you by complete surprise.
You parents rarely hugged you, and the only person who ever did was Draco.
You’ve also never been asked before; people usually just hugged you, whether you wanted it or not.
You only realised you hadn’t answered when Narcissa took a slight step backward, giving you space.
“My apologies,” she murmured, although she didn’t seem upset. “It’s a beautiful drawing, my girl. It far exceeds my expectations, which were already high to begin with.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy,” you replied, attempting to seem unbothered by the hug question, while also feeling a bright glow in your chest at her calling you “my girl.”
Your mum never used any terms of endearment toward you, all of the nicknames going toward your siblings. It was only now when you realised how much you’ve wanted to be favoured.
“Please, just Narcissa will do,” she replied, folding her hands.
“Oh, okay,” you mumbled, quickly adding a, “Narcissa,” to the end of it, just to get a feeling for calling her by her first name.
“I will frame it in my room,” she continued. “Truly, you’ve done a marvellous job. Thank you.”
Not asking this time, she stepped forward and planted a soft kiss on your temple before making her way back into her chair, grabbing the picture to examine again, that soft smile still on her face.
Taking that as your cue to leave, you turned around to make your way out of the room.
Pausing before you left, remembering to finally bring it up, you turned back around and mumbled another, “Mrs…I mean, Narcissa?”
She looked back up, seemingly confused that you were still there.
“Yes?” she asked.
“Um…you…” You paused.
“I know it’s not really my place to ask this, but would it be alright if I were to permanently move in?” you asked, finally getting the question out.
“Well, wouldn’t you like to return home at some point?” she replied, tilting her head in confusion. “You can’t possibly want to stay here forever. You’re not a Malfoy, and…I’m not sure I should be making these decisions without Lucius present.”
“Right, right…” you replied, embarrassed before you quickly turned the emotion into anger, thinking about your argument with Bellatrix.
“Yeah, you’re right. Why would I be welcome, tainting your precious pureblood house with my filth?”
“How dare you?” she whispered, rising from her chair. “After everything we’ve done for you, you’re still going on about that? We’ve given you a roof to live under, clothes to dress with, healthy food to eat, and you’re still accusing me of seeing you as no more than an infectious parasite, willing to get rid of you at any given moment?”
“Well it’s true, isn’t it?” you asked, voice rising. “You’ve only kept me because Draco wants it! Everything is done for Draco. Yet, when I want something, I get brushed off and told that Lucius needs to decide. Why can’t you? Why can’t you decide, or is it that you don’t want me around either?”
She opened her mouth to say something, and you watched her eyes flick down toward your hand. Hiding your still-bloodied (yet healed) knuckles from her view, you prepared yourself for another retort, before a strange look crossed her face.
“Go sit in your room,” she ordered, although her voice wasn’t as angry as it had been a few moments ago. “If this sort of argument happens again, we will be rearranging your living situation with Dumbledore.”
“So we’re not going to go grab my things from my parents house to move in here?” you asked, still very heated and forgetting that you never mentioned to her why you wanted to permanently move in.
“Why would we do that?” she spat. “You have a house, you have your own parents, you do not need to move in here. Now go to your room!”
To prevent yourself from getting kicked out too soon, you whipped around on your heel, storming off to your room.
Once inside, you quickly undressed, changing into something more comfortable, and in your anger, went to finally burn the letter from your parents.
You went to extract it from the pockets of your outfit you were just wearing, but then realised it wasn’t there. Digging around the mess of your room, slightly panicked, you couldn’t find it.
Valkyrie hooted at you, but you ignored her, collapsing onto the bed.
It must have fallen out of your pocket when you were walking through the house at some point. Anyone could have grabbed it by now. What if Bellatrix got ahold of it?
Or even worse, what if Narcissa saw it? You knew that she and Lucius were aware of your parents not wanting you to return, but you never discussed with her just how horrible they were. If she saw that letter, what would happen?
Valkyrie fluffed her wings and pecked at her cage, and you knew she was demanding free-reign and for a clean cage.
“Just don’t attack the peacocks again. I can’t make the Malfoys any angrier with me,” you told her, opening your window to let her fly out, before pushing your worries to the back of your mind to finally clean your room.