Chapter 8
You heard her. You heard everything that was said. You heard Narcissa admitting she wouldn’t save you, you heard her claiming that you reminded her of Bellatrix. You heard Bellatrix yelling about how unneeded you were, how you weren’t worth worrying about losing.
Everything was always about Draco.
You glanced at your sleeping friend next to you. You were confused to wake up in an unfamiliar bed at first, only realising it was Lucius and Narcissa’s room after you heard Bellatrix’s voice. Why you were in their room to begin with, you were unsure.
You could hear her steady breathing on the sofa. You lie awake, feeling a deep, empty chasm opening up in your stomach. This whole time, Narcissa truly didn’t care…
You didn’t need her. You didn’t need anybody. You will kill Dumbledore yourself, whether she makes the vow with Snape or not. It’ll be quick and easy. One flick of the wand, an uttered, “Avada kedavra,” and he’d drop dead. You’ll show all of them that you’re not to be laughed at, and you’ll show the Dark Lord that you’re not some kid to be toyed with.
Needing to get away from Narcissa, you crawled out of bed, tiptoeing to the slightly ajar door, and pushed yourself out into the quiet hall.
It was quite dark, and dead silent. You made your way down to your bedroom, smiling at the sight of Valkyrie’s return from her evening hunting. She cooed at you when you walked over, and you gently stroked her feathers.
“I’ve gotta go take care of something,” you told her, taking your pyjamas off to change into your day clothes. “You need to stay here, in case one of the Malfoys needs to send a message.”
Valkyrie tilted her head, and you knew she was silently asking where you were going.
“I’m going to grab my stuff from my parents’,” you told her, buttoning up your blouse and smoothing your skirt down.
You looked at yourself in the mirror, almost surprised to see just how Malfoy-esque you looked. To an outsider, you looked like you fit right in.
Although, you didn’t like how the dark circles under your eyes gave you a strong resemblance to Bellatrix. You didn’t want to be anything like her.
You grabbed a quill and a spare sheet of parchment to write a quick letter to the Malfoys, letting them know where you headed. You weren’t sure they’d care much if you were gone, but you felt it best to at least let them know.
Once you signed off, you grabbed your bag and tiptoed back down the hall and into Lucius and Narcissa’s room, pushing open the door. You silently made your way over to the sofa Narcissa was sleeping in, pausing to listen to make sure her breathing was still steady with sleep, then set the letter down on the coffee table in front of her.
Years of growing up in your abusive household made it easy for you to learn to sneak around. Your mother was an extremely light sleeper, and on your bad days where you were deprived of food and she fell asleep wine-drunk in her armchair, you’d sneak down into the kitchen and help yourself to food. You would illegally use magic to erase the existence of the food ever being there, that way she didn’t notice it was gone, and then you’d sneak back into your room without being caught.
You were only caught once, and that was your learning experience on just how sneaky you had to be. Your father had caught you sitting on the floor by the refrigerator, nine years-old, your mother’s wand at your side, shoving cheese into your mouth.
You were locked in your room for a week after that, and you quickly taught yourself concealment spells with your mother’s wand so you weren’t seen so easily when you were snacking.
You also taught yourself how to slip her wand out of her sleeping grasp, how to check if she truly was asleep, to listen for footsteps and decipher whose they were, and sneak around without so much as creaking a floorboard.
All of your skills had returned back to you now as you snuck out of the room, glad that both of the Malfoys were still asleep.
You had almost made it to the front door, pausing on the staircase when you heard a loud, “HA!” from behind you.
You whipped around, wand in hand, to see Bellatrix standing on the landing. She was in her night clothes, but you could tell she never truly went to bed.
“Where are you sneaking off to at this time in the morning?” she questioned you, her own wand pointed at you, as she slowly began making her way down the steps.
Morning? What time was it? It had to have been well-past three by now.
“I have some business I need to take care of,” you replied, adjusting your bag as you continued your path to the front doors.
You were suddenly frozen in place, hit with a spell from behind, as Bellatrix made her way around to stand in front of you. She pointed her wand in your face, tilting her head.
“What kind of business?” she whispered. “Why is it so secretive that you must sneak out of the house at four in the morning?”
“I’m going to my parents’,” you told her, wanting her to just accept the answer and go away. “I’m grabbing my things I’ve still got there, just so they don’t chuck it.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Then you can come with me!” you spat, growing fed up with her. “If you’re so suspicious of my actions and what I’m doing, you can come along.”
You were expecting her to either walk away and let you leave, or stun you and leave you here. What she did instead was nothing what you had expected.
“Fine,” she replied, waving her wand as the Binding Spell vanished. “I will have to see for myself if you’re truly innocent. Lead the way.”
You stared at her, appalled. She was going to come?
It wasn’t until that moment that you realised: you had no way to get there. You had never truly learned Apparation yet, and even if you were to do so, the Trace will alert the Ministry.
“Didn’t expect me to agree?” Bellatrix taunted. “You’re silence is very loud. It’s making me wonder if you’re really telling the truth.”
“I can’t legally use magic…” you whispered, as if you were admitting something secretive.
Bellatrix let out a shrill cackle of laughter, doubling over and clutching her sides as she did so.
“You were going to sneak out and you can’t even use magic?” she barked, looking at you with a wide, taunting smile on her face, before it turned into a mocking pout. “Aww, come here, hold my hand and I’ll take you.”
“I’m not holding your hand,” you spat, moving over next to her. “You’re more than welcome to hold my arm.”
She didn’t listen, because she grabbed onto your hand (why was her touch actually gentle?) and looked expectantly at you (you weren’t sure what she wanted).
She groaned loudly, tilting her head back dramatically, curls flopping.
“How do you expect me to take you if I have no bloody idea where I’m going, you stupid girl?” she asked, except you swore there was slightly less of a bite to her voice.
“Oh, right,” you murmured, giving her your parents’ address before feeling the familiar pressure from Apparation.
The way Bellatrix Apparated was messy; you landed roughly in the driveway leading up to the front doors, tripping over your own footing (you noticed Bellatrix did as well). Compared to Narcissa, who’s Apparation was always smooth like the ocean, Bellatrix’s was like a rockslide.
“This is your house?” Bellatrix asked, and you noticed a slightly panicked look in her eyes. You weren’t sure why; you could never remember your parents ever having anything to do with the Lestranges.
“Yeah,” you replied, hiking your bag farther up your shoulder to adjust it. “Sorry it’s nothing like the Malfoys’ place.”
You began walking toward the door, a bitter throught returning to your brain, as you grumbled within Bellatrix’s earshot, “Afterall, I am just some stray child who wandered in by mistake.”
“Excuse me?” she cried, and you turned around to see a genuinely appalled expression on her face. “You little sneak, you were eavesdropping on our conversation!”
“I wasn’t eavesdropping on anything!” you spat in reply. “Maybe if you learned to stop screaming every word you spoke, I would have been able to sleep peacefully through your little bicker over whether I deserve to be saved or not.”
As she was about to reply, you heard the door open behind you, spinning around to see your father there, robe messily wrapped around himself, glasses slightly askew.
“What are you doing here?” he hissed, eyes trailing behind you to Bellatrix, face paling at the sight of the witch. He called over his shoulder for your mother, who appeared in the doorway already dressed for the day, a scowl on her face.
“When we told you to collect your belongings, we did not mean at four in the morning,” she spat, eyes trailing behind you to Bellatrix as your father’s had done. “Hello, Bellatrix.”
Bellatrix said nothing, opting to glare at your mother instead. There was a strange look in her eyes, one you swore was recognition, but you ignored it.
You also ignored the fact how your mother greeted her as if they were old friends.
“It wasn’t intended to be a four a.m. trip. It’s just how things worked out,” you replied with a shrug. “May I come in and collect my belongings, please?”
Your parents shared a look with each other before allowing you entry. You pushed past them in the doorway, ignoring both of their gazes, and made your way up the staircase into your bedroom.
The house decorations hadn’t changed, but you swore there were a bit more Hufflepuff and Gryffindor things than there were before. It felt almost as if they were rubbing it in that you were wrong. That they were better than you.
They were.
You were always the failed child from the start. Dark mind with a dark soul.
It was times like these that you wished the Sorting Hat put you in Ravenclaw. If it did, you’d still live here, being able to smile proudly at the Ravenclaw tapestry hanging beside the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff ones.
You reached your bedroom, which was nowhere near as empty as you thought it would be.
It was almost fully turned into an office space, your bed missing, posters stripped from the walls, and even the floorboard…
Oh no.
You threw your bag to the ground, running over to the floorboard that had previously been broken. It was now bolted down and glossed over, as if your parents had completely remodelled the room.
From the looks of it, they had.
“Are you looking for your shoebox of cards from your grandmother?”
You sat upright, glaring daggers at your mother, who was leaning nonchalantly in the doorway.
Those cards meant the world to you. They came from a time where your grandparents loved you, and you wanted to desperately hold onto that memory forever.
“What did you do with them?” you snarled, standing up, hand on your pocket where your wand was hiding.
You were never one to stand up to your mother. You always backed down, never spoke back, allowed her to walk all over you.
You weren’t like that anymore. After joining the Death Eaters, living with the Malfoys, you wouldn’t ever let anyone treat you that way again.
“Well, we did keep your things,” she replied, crossing her arms. “It was only when you took longer and longer to show that we began getting rid of them. Kindling for neighbourhood fires, and whatnot. You know how much the Muggle neighbours love getting us all together for a summertime barbecue and pool parties.”
“So you just…burned my things because I didn’t come in your own mental timeframe?” you snarled, hand now slipping into your pocket. “So where’s the rest of my stuff?”
She motioned to the singular box sitting by the closet doors, labelled with your name.
That was it?
One box?
You reached for it, kneeling down on the ground, and looked inside.
It had nothing. It was practically empty. Just a few t-shirts and blankets that you didn’t even need anymore. Your posters, cards, everything valuable…gone.
You whipped out your wand in anger, silently setting the box on fire, controlling the flames so only the cardboard burned, only stopping once it was now a pile of ash on the floor.
You stared at what was once yours, angry tears burning your eyes.
“Feel better? Did you get it all out of your system?” your mother asked, which only made you angrier.
“HOW DARE YOU?” you screamed, rearing around on her, wand poised. “You got rid of all of my belongings without telling me! How could you do that to me? What is wrong with you? You’re supposed to be the good guys!”
“AHA! So you’re admitting you’re the bad guy now!” she replied, whipping her own wand out as well. “Say it. Say you’re a Death Eater.”
You were silent, staring at her in shock.
She…she thought that? It was true, of course, but even without knowing that, she thought you were one?
What if you weren’t? Afterall, you wouldn’t have been if Voldemort didn’t force you to get the Dark Mark. You wouldn’t have been if they didn’t disown you, or kick you out.
Would you?
“SAY IT!” she screamed, pointing her wand at your covered arm to reveal your skin.
You quickly blocked the spell, still trying to process everything.
Why was she treating you like this? She’s supposed to be your mum. She’s supposed to love you, and be there for you no matter what happens.
And back to what you were thinking, what if you weren’t a Death Eater? The fact that your own mum thought you were felt like a shot through your heart.
She always had so little faith in you.
“We’re done here,” you whispered, voice quieter than you had intended as you reached for your empty bag with your free hand. “Clearly you had no respect for me to begin with.”
Your wand was thrown from your hand, landing halfway across the room, as you were knocked sideways with a powerful spell, collapsing onto your side.
“I knew it,” your mum whispered, eyeing your now-exposed forearm. “You are a Death Eater.”
Getting the sudden urge to explain yourself, you quickly sat up, panicked.
“No! Mum, I promise, I didn’t choose for this to happen!” you explained, tears now streaming down your face. “He made me, mum, he made me. Please, please believe me! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
“Get out of my house,” she whispered, voice so quiet you barely heard it. “Get out of my house right now and out of my sight, or so help me I will kill you.”
You wanted to believe that was an empty threat, but you’ve never seen someone look at you with such hatred in their eyes before.
You left your bag on the floor, grabbing your wand before making your way out of the room.
Your mum’s hand reached out, gripping your tender wrist, pulling you close to her side. Her nails were now digging into your skin.
“I am escorting you out of this house,” she snarled, dragging you down the hall. “I will be having a word with Madam Lestrange.”
As the front door came into focus, your father looked at the two of you in confusion, stepping out of the way as your mother threw you down the front steps.
You landed roughly on your side, cradling your arms to your chest to protect yourself somewhat from the fall. It hurt, but all you did was wince, desperately trying to keep everything together.
You wanted to be angry, but you couldn’t find any spark inside. You just felt broken and unwanted; why did you have to go and mess up this bad?
“Did you have something to do with that?” your mother screeched, and you turned to Bellatrix, who was on the receiving end of her wrath.
“With what?” she asked, sticking her nose up in the air. “The half-blood? No, no, she’s entirely yours.”
“So you won’t care if I did this?”
You were suddenly hit with excruciating pain, screaming out in agony. Your body was on fire, everything felt like it was snapping, you wanted her to stop.
“STOP!” someone screamed, although you weren’t sure who.
You collapsed to the ground, head swimming, vision blurry, and looked up to see someone new had appeared.
Slightly dishevelled, Narcissa was standing beside her sister, wand pointed at your mother, who was now joined by your father.
You sat up, attempting to join the fight, but your mother again screamed, “CRUCIO!” and you were back on the ground, writhing in pain as the curse overtook your body.
You were hardly aware of your surroundings now, head throbbing. The sky was lightening as dawn approached; for some reason that felt special, although you weren’t sure why. The moments before sunrise and before sunset were always your favourite: dawn and twilight. Such pretty words.
You were hit with another curse, this one ripping open your skin, but not enough to kill you. Whoever aimed it at you did a sloppy job and didn't release enough power into it, or else you thought you might be dead.
You were crying. That’s all you were aware of.
“Come on, it’s okay baby, it’s alright, we’ll fix this,” a voice murmured, cradling you to their chest. You couldn’t even place whose face it belonged to.
“Mum?” you mumbled.
Forcing yourself to come into focus, you were looking up into Narcissa’s panic-stricken brown eyes, filled with tears which were now dripping onto you.
She smiled, cupping your face with her hand, wiping your own tears away.
“Let…me fight,” you whispered, strained, pushing her away. “I need…to fight.”
“No,” she whispered fiercely, grabbing your hand. “Stop it, it’s not worth it, darling.”
You lazily aimed your wand at your mother while still hanging onto Narcissa’s hand, who stood up with you. Your mum was standing next to your father’s lifeless form. He seemed to have been hit with the Killing Curse, which made you wobble on your already unsteady legs. As poorly as they’ve treated you, you never wanted to see your parents dead.
“Why…do you…hate me?” you whispered, breathing becoming difficult as you could feel the blood staining your clothes. “I…I’ve always tried…I’ve always wanted you…to love me. Why…why don’t you? Why was I the…the least favourite child? Why was…why was I treated…differently?”
You coughed, spitting blood onto the ground. You can’t stop now, you had to get your answer. You let go of Narcissa’s hand, taking a slight step closer.
“Why don’t you love me, mum?” you whispered, looking up at her through your thick tears.
She stared at you for a long moment with her terribly familiar cold eyes, squaring her shoulders and folding her hands behind her back.
“For starters,” she began, voice slicing the air like a knife, “you weren’t my least favourite child. You weren’t even my child.”
That finally seemed to be the blow that knocked you off your feet. You began to collapse, quickly held up (to your surprise) by Bellatrix, who had run over to catch you, wand still pointed at your mother (who apparently wasn’t your mother?)
“What?” you whispered, leaning all of your weight into Bellatrix, who steadily held you up.
“Ask Bellatrix. I’m sure she can explain thoroughly.”
“Why, you BITCH!” Bellatrix screamed, releasing her grip on you as she threw a green spark at your mother, who quickly dodged it with a countercurse.
You stumbled and fell directly into Narcissa’s arms, who caught you with a surprisingly strong grip.
“Come on, we need to go,” she whispered, pulling you tightly to her side.
You felt the pressure on your skull as she Apparated, taking you to a room you had never seen before, but was clearly at Malfoy Manor.
Your cuts were burning, clothes crimson with your own blood, and you collapsed into a sofa, which was softer than you had expected it to be. Everything was fuzzy, and you allowed Narcissa to guide you into a lying position, bending over you with her wand waving gently over all of your wounds, mumbling healing incantations, her own clothes bloodstained.
“You know…” she began, waving her wand as a pair of pyjamas manifested on the coffee table, soft and cosy looking and clearly not your own, “you have a real knack for getting yourself into trouble, my love. Truly a Malfoy.”
You half-laughed, half-coughed, the action making your everything hurt.
“I’m not a Malfoy,” you whispered. “I never will be. I’m sorry for being such a burden on your life, Narcissa, truly.”
She gazed down at you with her soft eyes, leaning down to kiss you on your bloodied forehead.
“I liked mum,” she murmured, voice hardly above a whisper. “I’m not sure if it was intentional back at your parents’, but…nonetheless, it was very sweet.”
Mum. You hated that word. You hated anything associated with that word.
“I…I can’t call you that,” you replied, finding it much easier to talk now that she healed you. “Not after what she did to me. Narcissa, she…she used the Cruciatus Curse on me. Her own child. How…how…why would she…”
Another thought cut through your brain, bringing everything else to a halt.
“When…when she told me I wasn’t her child…why…” You paused, trying to get your brain to work through a sentence properly. “Narcissa, why did she tell me to ask Bellatrix?”
“I don’t know, baby,” she replied, grabbing the pyjamas. “But that’s hardly something we need be discussing with your current state. Change into these pyjamas; they’re mine, perfect for comfy-cosy or sick days, and then that’s exactly what we’ll take. You are in desperate need of sleep, my darling, so get changed and we can rest all day long.”
You stared at her, slowly sitting up as you took the pyjamas from her outstretched arms. Narcissa ― the Narcissa Malfoy ― was offering to allow you to take a sick day?
You shakily stood up, setting the pyjamas on the sofa behind you, and stumbled into her, wrapping your arms as tightly around her as you could. This was the first time you’ve ever initiated a hug with her, and as badly as you wanted to call her your mum, you couldn’t. Not after what your own mother did. The thought of having a mum made you sick. For now, she’d be Narcissa, and that was enough for you.
“Thank you,” you whispered into her shoulder, tearing up as she held you closer. “Thank you, Narcissa, for everything. I love you so much, and I’m so, so sorry for everything I’ve put you through.”
You heard her slightly gasp then pull you even closer somehow, hugging you in a way your own mother never had before.
“Please don’t ever apologise for something such as that,” she whispered. “I…I know you heard my conversation with my sister earlier this evening. I was unsure of my response then, but I am positive of it now: I will risk my life to protect you just as much as I would for Draco. You are my child too, and I too love you.”
You sniffled, crying harder now at that statement. The fact it took a life-threatening situation for her to realise she cared was fine, you guess. Better than nothing.
Finally pulling away, you grabbed the pyjamas and made your way into the bathroom.