~Disclaimer: as much as I would like, I do not own any of these characters
(aside from my beloved Eilea) and the rights are all J.K.Rowling's. Please
don't sue. ... ... I'm poor . . . ~
"Eilea," Professor McGonnagal called. Eilea was the last to be sorted, because she was a newly arrived fifth-year. She had pale, frosty skin, only to barely be matched by one other in the castle: Draco Malfoy. Just at the sight of this, everybody could tell she would be sorted into the Slytherin house. Sure enough, the sorting hat hadn't even needed to touch her head before it called out, "SLYTHERIN!"
Eilea made her way to the Slytherin table, her long, straight black hair never parting from her long, flowing black robes, and Malfoy shoved Crabbe aside and beckoned her to sit next to him. She took the seat and didn't say a word until after the food appeared and Malfoy started the conversation. "So.no last name?" he asked awkwardly.
The piercing look from her deep black eyes was enough to make even Malfoy stop and stare, his mouth agape, the expression on his face possibly even reading a vague, "I'm sorry if I offended you." For about a minute, all signs of life were gone from Draco Malfoy. Something about her was enough to somehow overpower even a Malfoy. "I hate my family," was her only response, and she immediately went back to eating.
After the fist course of the dinner was over, Malfoy decided to try his luck again. "So . . . " At this, Eilea rolled her eyes. "You're from . . . Durmstrang? . . . or no, wait, was that . . . Beauxbatons? . . . or, no, wait, I know your name . . . Eilea . . . Eilea . . . Eilea . . . where are you from?"
"Hogwarts, actually." The heir of Malfoy could actually detect a hint of emotion in her voice, although he couldn't identify what it was.
"Care to elaborate?" he said sarcastically, but one more look into those eyes made him mumble under his breath, "oh, fuck."
"I just never bothered coming," she answered, as a smirk found it's way to her face.
"Why wouldn't you? So many people to torment," he said, nodding towards the Gryffindor table.
As if to answer the pale boy's question, she focused on the spot in the enchanted ceiling directly above Harry Potter, where a thundercloud ~coincidentally?~ happened to be forming. From this cloud, crackles of electricity started to emerge, and a few people, Headmaster Dumbledore among them, turned their attention to that spot. As soon as Dumbledore had looked there, Draco Malfoy barely noticed Eilea blink, but he was full and clear the small bolt of lightning that struck the floor behind Harry's chair. The Slytherins all laughed uproariously at the confusion that followed at the other three tables, and at Dumbledore, Ron, and Hermione trying to get a shaken Harry to the hospital wing.
Draco, astonished, slowly turned back to Eilea. "Did you just-?" he asked in awe, and at this she nodded. "How." his voice trailed off as he followed Eilea's line of sight to the scorched floor, which was apparently repairing itself, but only Draco and Eilea knew what was really happening. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~
In the Slytherin common room, late at night after everybody but them had gone to sleep, Eilea and Draco were too restless to settle down into their beds and were in search of something to do.
"You've heard my name around your household, I gather? I've always know who you are, Draco Malfoy." Eilea spoke with her usual clarity and precision, in a voice that demanded an answer. Something about the way she said his name made Draco's heart leap to his throat.
"I must have at some point . . . who are you?" he mustered up the strength to ask the strange girl in front of him. He believed, no, he hoped, that they might have even been related, until he remembered her say, "I hate my family."
"Voldemort fears me," she said, and she placed in Draco's mind an image of a dead Voldemort.
"Wha-" he started to say, and at the thought of the image his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. He blinked furiously and rubbed his eyes in attempt to get rid of it, but it did no good seeing as the image was inside his head.
"I'll stop your suffering now, if you wish, pathetic follower of Voldemort."
"Please," Draco gasped.
"It's great to hear a Malfoy beg," Eilea chuckled, before restoring Draco to his previous mindset. "So tell me, what do you know about me," Eilea stated rather than ask.
"I.I don't know much.I know the name." Draco found himself gasping for breath as he tried to remember, and had to look away from her eyes.
"Aw, scared, little baby Draco?" Eilea's voice didn't even change to a mocking tone, which somehow made it worse.
"Shut . . . up . . . I . . . am . . . NOT . . . scared?" he said between breaths, the last word turning into a whimper as he looked back at Eilea's eyes. They were different now - it was as if he could see through them, and on the other side, there was fire. Draco could see the sparks from the fire crackling and would have sworn that he had even heard it. "A Malfoy is never scared," he whispered, more to himself than Eilea, as she moved closer to him. She touched his chin and tilted his head up, forcing him to look into her eyes, and he let out another whimper as she began to let out her story to him.
"I don't remember much," she said, "but I remember reading. A lot. And hating it. I remember scavenging for spellbooks and throwing countless ones aside when they got too easy." In her eyes now, Draco could see the image of Eilea as a little girl, perhaps no more than five years old, exploding a spellbook with her wand.
"I remember coming face-to-face with Voldemort," she continued, "when I was perhaps no more than seven." Now she showed an image of the giant that he had looked like to her. "I can remember us both trying to cast the death curse - Avada Kedavra, was it?" Draco winced at the sound of these words and the image of a blinding array of colors of light in her eyes. "Yes, well, I don't much need that anymore. Somehow, this I don't remember," and at her saying that the fire in her eyes died and her eyes returned to their normal black, but filled with pain, suffering, misery, and just plain confusion, "I was somehow fused with my wand," she explained.
She slowly pulled her hand away from under Draco's chin and looked at him with an expression of pleading and sorrow that he could not take his eyes away from. He couldn't understand why, but for once in his life, he cared about someone other than himself. He brought her close and wrapped his arms around her as she buried her head in his shoulder. "It'll be okay," he whispered repeatedly as he stroked her hair.
"If only I could remember," she began to sob.
don't sue. ... ... I'm poor . . . ~
"Eilea," Professor McGonnagal called. Eilea was the last to be sorted, because she was a newly arrived fifth-year. She had pale, frosty skin, only to barely be matched by one other in the castle: Draco Malfoy. Just at the sight of this, everybody could tell she would be sorted into the Slytherin house. Sure enough, the sorting hat hadn't even needed to touch her head before it called out, "SLYTHERIN!"
Eilea made her way to the Slytherin table, her long, straight black hair never parting from her long, flowing black robes, and Malfoy shoved Crabbe aside and beckoned her to sit next to him. She took the seat and didn't say a word until after the food appeared and Malfoy started the conversation. "So.no last name?" he asked awkwardly.
The piercing look from her deep black eyes was enough to make even Malfoy stop and stare, his mouth agape, the expression on his face possibly even reading a vague, "I'm sorry if I offended you." For about a minute, all signs of life were gone from Draco Malfoy. Something about her was enough to somehow overpower even a Malfoy. "I hate my family," was her only response, and she immediately went back to eating.
After the fist course of the dinner was over, Malfoy decided to try his luck again. "So . . . " At this, Eilea rolled her eyes. "You're from . . . Durmstrang? . . . or no, wait, was that . . . Beauxbatons? . . . or, no, wait, I know your name . . . Eilea . . . Eilea . . . Eilea . . . where are you from?"
"Hogwarts, actually." The heir of Malfoy could actually detect a hint of emotion in her voice, although he couldn't identify what it was.
"Care to elaborate?" he said sarcastically, but one more look into those eyes made him mumble under his breath, "oh, fuck."
"I just never bothered coming," she answered, as a smirk found it's way to her face.
"Why wouldn't you? So many people to torment," he said, nodding towards the Gryffindor table.
As if to answer the pale boy's question, she focused on the spot in the enchanted ceiling directly above Harry Potter, where a thundercloud ~coincidentally?~ happened to be forming. From this cloud, crackles of electricity started to emerge, and a few people, Headmaster Dumbledore among them, turned their attention to that spot. As soon as Dumbledore had looked there, Draco Malfoy barely noticed Eilea blink, but he was full and clear the small bolt of lightning that struck the floor behind Harry's chair. The Slytherins all laughed uproariously at the confusion that followed at the other three tables, and at Dumbledore, Ron, and Hermione trying to get a shaken Harry to the hospital wing.
Draco, astonished, slowly turned back to Eilea. "Did you just-?" he asked in awe, and at this she nodded. "How." his voice trailed off as he followed Eilea's line of sight to the scorched floor, which was apparently repairing itself, but only Draco and Eilea knew what was really happening. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~
In the Slytherin common room, late at night after everybody but them had gone to sleep, Eilea and Draco were too restless to settle down into their beds and were in search of something to do.
"You've heard my name around your household, I gather? I've always know who you are, Draco Malfoy." Eilea spoke with her usual clarity and precision, in a voice that demanded an answer. Something about the way she said his name made Draco's heart leap to his throat.
"I must have at some point . . . who are you?" he mustered up the strength to ask the strange girl in front of him. He believed, no, he hoped, that they might have even been related, until he remembered her say, "I hate my family."
"Voldemort fears me," she said, and she placed in Draco's mind an image of a dead Voldemort.
"Wha-" he started to say, and at the thought of the image his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. He blinked furiously and rubbed his eyes in attempt to get rid of it, but it did no good seeing as the image was inside his head.
"I'll stop your suffering now, if you wish, pathetic follower of Voldemort."
"Please," Draco gasped.
"It's great to hear a Malfoy beg," Eilea chuckled, before restoring Draco to his previous mindset. "So tell me, what do you know about me," Eilea stated rather than ask.
"I.I don't know much.I know the name." Draco found himself gasping for breath as he tried to remember, and had to look away from her eyes.
"Aw, scared, little baby Draco?" Eilea's voice didn't even change to a mocking tone, which somehow made it worse.
"Shut . . . up . . . I . . . am . . . NOT . . . scared?" he said between breaths, the last word turning into a whimper as he looked back at Eilea's eyes. They were different now - it was as if he could see through them, and on the other side, there was fire. Draco could see the sparks from the fire crackling and would have sworn that he had even heard it. "A Malfoy is never scared," he whispered, more to himself than Eilea, as she moved closer to him. She touched his chin and tilted his head up, forcing him to look into her eyes, and he let out another whimper as she began to let out her story to him.
"I don't remember much," she said, "but I remember reading. A lot. And hating it. I remember scavenging for spellbooks and throwing countless ones aside when they got too easy." In her eyes now, Draco could see the image of Eilea as a little girl, perhaps no more than five years old, exploding a spellbook with her wand.
"I remember coming face-to-face with Voldemort," she continued, "when I was perhaps no more than seven." Now she showed an image of the giant that he had looked like to her. "I can remember us both trying to cast the death curse - Avada Kedavra, was it?" Draco winced at the sound of these words and the image of a blinding array of colors of light in her eyes. "Yes, well, I don't much need that anymore. Somehow, this I don't remember," and at her saying that the fire in her eyes died and her eyes returned to their normal black, but filled with pain, suffering, misery, and just plain confusion, "I was somehow fused with my wand," she explained.
She slowly pulled her hand away from under Draco's chin and looked at him with an expression of pleading and sorrow that he could not take his eyes away from. He couldn't understand why, but for once in his life, he cared about someone other than himself. He brought her close and wrapped his arms around her as she buried her head in his shoulder. "It'll be okay," he whispered repeatedly as he stroked her hair.
"If only I could remember," she began to sob.