Veiled Identity

Disclaimer: This still hasn't gone away, no matter how I glare at it. The truth of the matter is, darn everything, if I owned Harry Potter, Sirius would not have died, and Harry wouldn't have got so broody and self-satisfied in HBP. I don't care if it's logical, I don't think it is. I have hope for Sirius though. Until then, he is my own private prisoner. I get to make him do all kinds of crazy stuff like marry James's nonexistent sister! Woo! Okay, right. I don't own Harry Potter, so please don't sue me. I'm throwing out stuff and I'd probably give you what you wanted for free!

Summary: James Potter had a sister. His sister had a husband. That husband was Sirius Black. Meghan and Sirius Black had a daughter. That daughter was born three months before the Godric's Hollow attack. Sirius Black was carted off to Azkaban. Meghan Black was crying her eyes out in her brother's destroyed home, crying for her destroyed family with her daughter on her lap when an old friend dropped in for a visit.

Now, this old friend is stuck raising young Ashley Marie Black. But who will Ashley become? Her environment has changed. Her circumstances have changed. Her parents have changed. Who is she? Who will she be? This is her story. (BZxOC, DMxGW, NMxSS, HPxHG, SBxOC)

Rating: T+ for themes; physical, sexual, and psychological abuse; possibly language

Warnings for this chapter: A lot of mention and reference to above forms of abuse

Author's note (please read, there's a reason it's in Bold, Underlined Caps):

IF NO ONE KNOWS WHO ASHLEY IS, READ THE NOTE AT THE BOTTOM. TRULY I HOPE I AM NOT THAT BAD AT INTRODUCTIONS!

Chapter One: It'll All Be All Right, in which someone very special joins a very special family and begins a very special life

Narcissa Liesel Black-Malfoy woke blearily, sitting up as she wiped the sleep from her azure eyes. She looked into the cold gray eyes of her husband, Lucius Theodore Malfoy with only a slight flinch, to her credit. "Very good," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "Good morning, Narcy. It's very kind of you to join me and your new daughter." Her eyes widened as he tucked a black-haired infant into her arms. "Meet Ashley Malfoy, formerly Ashley Marie Black. I give you leave to give the brat any middle name you want to, so long as you change it," he said flippantly.

"B—but—" She looked at her ruthless, uncaring husband with dazed eyes. What had happened? The last thing she remembered was Lucius pulling her over to talk to her.

"Ah, you wish to know what happened to the young lady's mother, do you?" he asked, his voice falsely sweet. "Well, to make a long story pretty short, you've killed her."

Narcissa nearly dropped the infant. Ashley was already half an orphan. Her father, Sirius Black, had been carted off to Azkaban Prison for something he didn't do, something Lucius had gloated over for the past two days. She had been living with her mother Meghan Potter-Black since the deaths of James and Lily Potter.

Narcissa had been good friends with Meghan Potter in school. She was pretty sure she would have remembered killing her. She would have remembered killing anyone. Hell, she would have remembered killing the rat in the dungeons if she'd done it. So she definitely would have remembered killing the pretty black-haired woman who called her "Liesel" and had always given her spontaneous hugs.

"Oh, you don't remember?" Lucius said innocently. Far too innocently, Narcissa knew. "You don't remember going to the Potter house and finding Ms. Black there? You don't remember dueling her? You don't remember shooting spell after spell—?" he trailed off.

"You know I don't," she said coldly. Meg. Her heart fell. It's not right. How can he make me kill my best girl friend? She turned her head away, looking at the sleeping baby in her arms. Ashley looked so much like her parents. She had Sirius's eye-shape, and his long, curling eyelashes (so often completely wasted on males), but she had Meghan's eyebrows, and her nose and mouth. She lightly touched Ashley's soft, downy black hair, which was already curly, totally different from her mother and father. Ashley would be her own person. And as much as Narcissa hated to admit it, she wanted to help her. He smirked.

"Well, my dear, you wouldn't want to leave this delightful child without a home, would you?" he asked, running a cool finger down the side of the child's face. She shivered in her sleep. Narcissa's arms tightened reflexively around the little girl. She didn't want her monster of a husband touching her friend's daughter.

When she gave no answer, Lucius's eyes grew stony. "Narcissa, you are going to take this child and you are going to raise her as my daughter. She won't know who she really is. It is my chance to strike one last blow at the Light Side. Imagine, one of the last Potters, a Death Eater." He smirked. "You haven't been out at all recently, have you?" She watched him. He whirled and slapped her across the face. "Answer me, wench!" he roared. The baby woke.

"Not for seven months now, sir," she said softly, staring at the floor. She didn't want to show what she was feeling, because she knew he would only punish her the worse for it. He knew. He knew how long it had been, because he was the reason it had been that long. She also knew what he was planning. If she hadn't been seen in public for seven months, she could have been around three months pregnant, if you took Draco as a rule of thumb.

"Very good," he said, immediately calm. "We shall simply say you were pregnant, but you wanted it to be a surprise. The black hair is from your family, obviously, and her eyes are somewhere between gray and blue. Plausible. She was born…August 28th. That makes her about the same age, but not the same as her real birthday. We'll need to write out a birth certificate…We'll need a week or so before we're ready—" He realized his wife was still sitting there with the child in her arms. "Well, get out, and take that sniveling brat with you!" Young Ashley began to cry. Narcissa, wanting to spare her new child her husband's attentions for the moment, rushed out of the room and down the hall. She ran helter-skelter through the huge manor, looking for the room where Draco was playing.

She burst into the nursery, where her own seventeen-month-old son sat playing with his toys. "Oh, Draco," she murmured as she rocked the squalling infant. She began to sing an old lullaby, quieting the little girl until she fell asleep in her arms. Lucius, you bastard, she thought to herself. What have you gotten me into, this time?

AshleyAshleyAshley

Narcissa held Ashley's tiny hand tight in her own as she walked the little girl to the sitting room, where her godfather Severus Snape waited. It was the first time Ashley would truly meet her godfather, and the little two-year-old was practically trembling with the excitement she could feel rolling off her mother.

The dark-haired man was sitting there with an enthusiastic Draco sitting next to him, avidly turning pages as he attempted to read Severus his favorite book, Goodnight Moon. Narcissa grinned as she realized he was actually doing a rather good job of it and then resolved to start reading a different book at bedtime.

"Hello," Severus said gently to the dark-haired child. "You must be Ashley," he beckoned to her. "I'm your Uncle Severus."

The tiny girl toddled over to him. "Hewwo, Unc' Sevewus," she said dutifully. Severus looked closer at the little child and his eyebrows twitched. "You can call me Sev, if you want," he offered.

The child smiled, assenting. In a few minutes, she was talking animatedly to him in her own language, Draco joining in with nonsensical babble as well. Severus looked slightly overwhelmed, but played along fantastically.

Narcissa smiled at the typically bitter, cynical dark-haired man. This was the side of Severus few people saw, the gentle, kind, almost enthusiastic man that hid behind the façade of a cold, unfeeling ex-Death Eater. Narcissa called for a tea service and some milk and cookies for her children and settled in to watch the children play with her secret love.

Eventually, Ashley and Draco were led away for a nap. When Narcissa came back to talk to Severus, the man was holding a cup of tea loosely in his long, skilled fingers.

"Was it just me, or does that girl-child of yours look strangely like Sirius and Meghan Black?" he said coolly. Narcissa picked up her own cup of tea and half-smiled.

"Now, Severus," she said smoothly, "whatever would make you think that?" She sipped at her tea. Severus watched her shrewdly.

"I'm not sure, madam," he said calmly. "It may have been the fact that she has the same face as Mrs. Black, or—"

Narcissa was watching him with a raised eyebrow. He smirked. "You know, don't you? You know why she looks so much like Meghan."

"You had to ask?" she said silkily, setting down her cup. "Yes, Severus, she's Meghan's daughter. Or she was. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to convince her that she's not my daughter without killing myself over it. I love that little girl."

"She is an acceptable child," Severus said blandly, but the smile in his eyes gave him away. Narcissa looked at him, her eyes hurt.

"How am I supposed to tell her I'm not her mother?" she asked, hanging her head and studying her hands. "I love her like I am her mother." A hand landed on her shoulder.

"Cissa—you are her mother," Severus explained. Narcissa looked up, startled. "You don't believe me? You can see it in her eyes. She doesn't know anyone else, she trusts you; you're all she has. And what a mother to have," he added. Narcissa's cheeks reddened. He smiled lopsidedly. "Look, Cissa, mothers aren't just by blood," he said, trying to make her see. "Mothers are by actions as well. Who's raised Ashley? Who changed her diapers, who fed her, and who got up at two in the morning to make sure she was feeling all right?"

A pregnant pause hung in the air.

"You did. What has Meghan done for her daughter since two years ago? Nothing. No, that's the truth, Narcissa. You can't hide from it. Trust me, Cissa, you're her mother and you'll never convince her otherwise. It just doesn't work that way." Her blue eyes stared into his dark, dark brown. Then she half-crumpled, crying as she gave him a hug that he returned awkwardly.

"Thank you, Severus," she whispered to the only friend that was still with her.

"You know I'll always be here if you need me," he replied simply.

AshleyAshleyAshley

"Ashley, curve your hands more, love. That's it. Now keep them like that. Good girl. Let's hear that again." The little black-haired girl, sitting perched precariously on the piano stool, played through a simple version of Mary Had a Little Lamb. Narcissa clapped. "Good job, sweetheart. Draco, is everything all right? This is Ashley's music lesson."

The blonde boy shifted a little. "I know, Mum, but Blaise is here, and I didn't know if Ashley wanted to come say hi." Ashley squealed quietly.

"Mamà, please, can I go see Blaise?" the five-year-old pleaded. "It's been ever so, ever so long since he last visited." Narcissa nodded, smiling as her adopted daughter bounced out of the room, following her son. It was good to know that even after Lucius, the two children could still be children, excited at the prospect of seeing a dear friend.

She slowly followed her children through the Manor to Draco's bedroom. A dark-haired, olive-skinned boy sat on a chair in the corner of the room. Ashley rushed over and hugged him tightly. He returned the hug. "'lo, Miranda," he told her. "Bonjour, Tante Cissa," he added. He had always insisted on calling his best friend's sister by her middle name.

"Benvenuto, Blaise," the little girl murmured with only a little bit of difficulty. The Italian boy grinned and ruffled her black hair. She squealed and smoothed it down. "Blaise, don't do that!" Blaise just ruffled it again. She groaned.

"He only does it 'cause it riles you up, princess," Draco said with a grin of his own. He was fiercely protective of his sister in all but blood, and he loved her more than anything.

She pouted. "I know he does, Draco, but make him stop."

"Oh, I don't know, Ash, I like to do it too," he teased, patting her head playfully. She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Just 'cause I'm shorter than you are," she complained. Then she turned back to Blaise. "You went to Italy, didn't you?" He nodded. "Oh, was it fun there? What did you see? Was the food good? Was there a lot of spaghetti? Was it really pretty?"

"Yes," Blaise said simply. "We saw the, the Si—the Sis-tine Cha-pel, and the ceiling is really cool. Some My—my—Michael-Angel painted it, and I really liked it. I want to be able to paint like that when I'm older."

"You will be, Blaise," Ashley said confidently. "You can do anything." Blaise just flushed and looked away. Draco took Ashley's hand and asked if she wanted to play a game. She squealed happily and listened to what Draco was saying enthusiastically.

A few minutes later, the children were firmly entrenched in the world of make-believe, playing Knights and Princesses. Ashley insisted that she was a Princess Knight, and the rest of them had to wait for her to save them.

"Ashley, guys are knights," Draco said, his voice sounding put-upon. "Girls are princesses and ladies."

"Nuh-uh! What about that queen that we read about in History the other day? Queen Maeve was as good as a knight, wasn't she, Mamà?"

"That she was, love. Draco, your sister can be a princess knight if she wants to."

"Yes, Mum," he said obediently. "Well, anyway, I'm going to wait outside the castle for an invastion and Blaise will come and fight me because he's the invasion, see—" Narcissa smiled and slipped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her. She would talk to her children later. Let them be children while they still could.

It had been five years since she'd adopted Ashley, and only five months since she'd started to teach her daughter about her biological parents. Ashley still hadn't grasped the fact that Narcissa wasn't her mother, but who could blame her? She was only five years old.

Narcissa was teaching her children many things, French, piano, violin, reading, writing, arithmetic, history…but the most valuable lesson she could teach them was how to have fun. There was quite a shortage of fun in the huge, intimidating Malfoy Manor, and it was easy to forget the good things in life with Lucius putting them down every second step.

But as she heard Ashley's chiming laughter from Draco's room, she realized something. No matter how much Lucius beat her, no matter how many times he slapped Ashley or punched Draco or broke bowls or belittled any of them, they would never lose themselves.

Ashley would always be Ashley, the good times, and the bad times. Draco would be Draco, when he was happy and when he was sad. The two of them would always be brother and sister, whether Ashley lived with Meghan or with her. If there was one thing that Lucius couldn't break, couldn't beat, it was the very souls, the very existence of these two innocent, beautiful children that called Narcissa their mother.

She leaned against the wall and hummed a line of the lullaby she'd sung Ashley when the three-month-old baby had made her first appearance in the nursery.

Wherever you may go, no matter where you are, I never will be far away.

As long as she lived, and even beyond her death, she would be with her son and her daughter, protecting and helping them as they grew and became adults, with lives and children of their own. They were hers and would always be, for better or for worse.

AshleyAshleyAshley

Blaise sat at a table in the music room with his drawing pencils. It was time for Ashley's music lesson, and Draco had insisted on coming to watch. Narcissa had smiled but assented.

"Auntie," he murmured as Ashley played through her scales. Narcissa looked over at the blue-eyed boy.

"Sí, Blaise?" she replied. The dark boy smiled shyly. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly, tracing lines on the paper in front of him.

Narcissa patted the young child's hand. "Of course I am, love," she winked at him. "That was pretty good, Ashley. Try G-major again, please. Remember the F-sharp."

"Yes, Mamà," the six-year-old said, biting her lip and concentrating very hard. Narcissa looked back at Blaise. "Why the sudden worry, Blaise?"

Blaise ducked his head. "Nothing, Auntie. Just something Draco said," he said softly. She ruffled his hair and gave him a hug.

"Oh, Blaise, Draco," she said with a sigh, using her other arm to pull her blonde son into the hug. "You relax and leave the worrying to me, all right?"

Blaise agreed, turning back to his drawing as Narcissa released him. She turned her blue eyes to Draco. He watched her stubbornly. Her eyebrows came together. "Dragon, don't worry about me. I'm an adult, it's my job to watch you. All right?" Draco nodded reluctantly. She mussed his hair. "That's my boy. Why don't you and Blaise go play somewhere else? Ashley and I are going to have a little talk about something." She gave Draco a kiss on the cheek and shooed him and his friend out of the room.

"We'll be in the playroom, Mum, Ash," Draco called as they left. He shut the door carefully behind him and turned to look at Blaise before he set off.

Blaise tucked his drawing pad under his arm, hurrying after his blond friend.

"Are you going to give up worrying?" he asked his best friend as they navigated through the halls.

"No," Draco said flatly. "Are you?"

"Not if you're not," Blaise said matter-of-factly. "If there's someone who knows what needs to be worried about here, it's you, Draco." Draco opened the playroom door as they slipped into the blue room.

Blaise and Draco settled at the table. The seven-year-old blonde leaned over his dark-haired friend's shoulder. "Who's that?" he asked. The lines on the page formed a rough, childishly drawn face. Draco traced a dark line with his finger.

"I don't know yet," Blaise said honestly.

Draco looked at him oddly. "You don't know? Why not?"

"Sometimes you just have to let it make itself," Blaise tried to explain. "Don't you ever just start something without knowing how it's going to finish? Like music or something?"

Draco shrugged. "Not really. I'm not good enough yet. I think Mum does sometimes, but you have to be really good to do that." He looked at Blaise, a questioning tilt to his head. "Why don't you think about who it's going to be?"

"Because I like it to be open," the boy said uncertainly. "I want to be able to do whatever I want with it, and I want to know what my mind's thinking about."

"You don't know what you're thinking about?"

"Sometimes I do," the boy said vaguely. Draco looked intrigued as he watched Blaise draw. He began to make tracing motions on the table, his eyes half-closing as he relaxed. Blaise said nothing. He simply drew, not even looking at Draco as the boy traced an imaginary picture on the smooth wood surface of the table.

Draco peered over Blaise's shoulder, watching the dark boy pencil eyes and lips onto the paper. It was like watching his mother's long agile fingers dance on the piano keys when she played for him and Ashley. The little boy, not yet eight years old, watched his friend's dark pencil as he would a bug or a snake or anything else a young boy-child would find interesting.

Blaise drew a nose, slowly, meticulously, before the perfectionist child rubbed it out with an eraser to try again. Draco watched avidly, wanting to know more about this strange, unfamiliar process.

He peered over Blaise's shoulder more and more insistently, until he was blocking the light to his best friend's drawing paper. The paper was completely shadowed; Blaise's hand stopped moving. Finally, the boy looked up at Draco, smiling. "You want a piece of paper?"

AshleyAshleyAshley

Ashley stumbled into her mother's room. Her legs were refusing to work together, or was that her ankle? She wasn't sure. It had been a day since she remembered running around the Manor with Draco, and a day since Lucius had come banging through the door, informing the children that they were being unnecessarily loud and that they needed to learn to be quieter. It had been a day since her punishment, and the details were hazy to her mind. Who would want to remember anyway? She pushed the thought to the back of her mind. It was her mother she was worried about now. Lucius had come home today with a Look on his face, the look that promised trouble. "Mamà?" she called very softly. "Mamà, are you okay?" she asked, putting a hand to the puffy bruise that was forming around her left eye as she searched for Narcissa. "Mamà, where are you?"

A scream rang out from the other room. Ashley rushed up to the adjoining door and put her ear to the wood. She heard her father's dangerously low tones. "Be quiet, Narcy, or I'll open that door. Who knows what little Ashley will do?"

Her mother gasped. "You wouldn't," she whispered fiercely. "I won't let you. You're already bad enough. You're not going anywhere near her—" a slap cut her off.

"I'll do what I like, wench. Don't forget, in the eyes of the purebloods, you belong to me. I can do anything I want," he said in a singsong tone.

Ashley backed away from the door slowly. If her mother didn't want her there, she'd go. She didn't want to make her mother sad.

She had started to head toward the door when her mother screamed again. She rushed back to the other door. Even her sense of obedience and self-preservation was outweighed by her concern for her mother. "Mamà?" she whispered almost inaudibly.

Narcissa, on the other side of the door, whimpered as she heard her daughter's voice, however softly, float through the door. "Ashley," she hissed. Lucius smirked.

"Would little Ashley like to come in?" he said, his voice sickly sweet. Bastards, idiots, the lot of them, he thought to himself. The little brat shouldn't be snooping, in any case, he added in justification. He let Narcissa pull a sheet over herself. She's interrupted something she needn't have learned so early. He fixed his appearance back to its normal, pristine condition and threw open the door, glaring darkly at the dark-haired seven-year-old.

"What have I told you about interrupting, young lady? Your mother and I were busy. You are meant to respect that."

Ashley looked at the ground. "I'm sorry, sir," she murmured to her feet. Lucius's hand shot out and forced her chin up, so that his gray eyes bore into her stormy-sea-colored irises.

She whimpered slightly and tried to turn her head away, but Lucius's grip on her chin was like iron. "You will not interrupt us again, do you hear?" he said viciously. That little bitch had rushed in during his own time, and she would pay!

"Yes, sir," she said obediently. Lucius pushed her up against the door and slapped her. Her head whipped to the side. "I understand, sir," she whispered, frightened. Lucius smirked cruelly and threw open the door, tossing the small child through the portal like a sack of flour, not even twitching when he heard her hit the ground. He shut the door, locking and silencing it.

"Bastard," Narcissa hissed at the tall, forbidding man. Her eyes smoldered. She was trembling with a feeling somewhere between fear and anger. She half-sat up, glaring at him vehemently. "Why did you do it?"

"Just be thankful I didn't do anything—else," he said coldly. "She's a pretty little child, isn't she, Narcissa?"

"Cradle-snatcher," she growled, ignoring the warning look he shot at her. "You bastard." She spat at him, causing his eyes to flash dangerously.

"Quite the contrary, Narcy. My parents were married, happily or no, when I was born." He smiled barely a sliver of a smile that could have cut through iron.

Narcissa shivered.

AshleyAshleyAshley

Ashley sat in Narcissa's lap, a photo album open on her own lap. Narcissa pointed at one picture of a dark-haired, blue-eyed girl laughing, her arm around the shoulders of a younger Narcissa. "That was your mother and I in fifth year. She was always so enthusiastic. Everyone loved Meghan—how could we not?" She smiled reminiscently. "She was smart, but she wasn't just book-smart like I was. She had the sharpest common sense, and she could rattle off the cryptic half-truths as fast as Severus could." She laughed. "Sometimes Lily would ask why she wasn't in Slytherin. And Meghan would always say—"

"'In the same House as Lucius Malfoy? He wouldn't last five minutes if I lived in the same dungeons as him!'" Ashley provided with a half-smile. "You said."

"She meant it, too. She could hardly sit still, either, which wasn't very Slytherin of her. She was very high-energy. I tried to teach her to play piano, but she couldn't stand all the classical tunes. 'Cissa,' she'd whine, 'it's so boring! No one listens to this anymore!' Eventually I just taught her popular music, and then she shut up—well, except for singing. She had the sweetest alto voice I've ever heard—she and Sirius used to make it a point to sing a duet every year on the anniversary of the day they got together—just their luck it was a Hogsmeade weekend the first year after, too…"

Ashley pointed to another picture. Meghan, Lily Evans, Katherine Bassett and Severus sat in a close circle, talking animatedly. Narcissa had obviously taken the picture. "Were you studying again?"

"No, love," the blonde woman smiled sadly. "That was the day after I announced that I was going to marry Lucius. I didn't know until after your mum died, but they were trying to think of ways to break the engagement. Severus told me. I thought they were just arguing again—they loved to, especially Kate and Severus." She wrapped her arms around her daughter's waist in a hug, pressing her cheek to the side of Ashley's head. Ashley leaned in to her mother's touch. "But if I'd never married Lucius, I'd never have gotten the chance to be your Mamà, would I?"

Narcissa felt Ashley smile. "Love you, Mamà," the nine-year-old said softly.

"I love you too, Ashley," she replied.

She turned the page and laughed. "Look, there's the time we caught Meghan and Sirius kissing for the first time! Your uncle didn't know they were going out yet, but we were looking for Meghan, and Kate had the brilliant idea to look in the broom cupboard. And there were Meghan and Sirius, holding hands and kissing! Lily nearly lost her mind. Kate went on and on about being traumatized. Severus was obviously somewhere else, but of course Kate just whipped out her camera and preserved the memory—for 'posterity'."

Ashley laughed, watching her kissing parents break apart and a rosy red blush explode on Meghan's face. Sirius looked away, putting a hand in front of his face as he mouthed "Kate!"

"Mamà?" she asked suddenly, "where's Kate?"

Narcissa was taken aback by the question. "Kate? Oh, I don't know. She married Remus Lupin, I remember—she snagged the sanest of the Marauders, if you ask me—but after that, I haven't heard anything about her. She was an Unspeakable last I know. She's probably had a child by now. I always thought Kate would make an interesting mother. She has some interesting ways of dealing with issues, and their house would be practically crawling with photo albums."

She smiled and ruffled Ashley's hair. "Why do you ask, chickadee?" she teased.

"Mamà!" Ashley protested (both the hair-ruffle and the nickname). "I just wanted to know, is all," answered her mother's question. "I think it's perfectly reasonable to ask after my Mamà's best friend! Especially 'cause I don't have any aunts and uncles to start with," she said cheekily.

"Oh yes you do," Narcissa argued. "What about your Aunt Andi?"

"I don't know Aunt Andi," Ashley explained slowly. "She can't come to visit 'cause Uncle Ted's a Muggleborn and Lucius thinks she's a blood-traitor."

Narcissa sighed. "Oh well. Now, this next picture here was just after Meghan and I had finished our NEWTS—you see how we're both slumped on the desk? Well, Kate was visiting for whatever reason—I think she had a meeting with Dumbledore. So we were ready to go and pass out on a table from sheer exhaustion. Just as we go to pass out, we see a camera flash. Oh, you should have seen how fast Meghan was up and running. She hated photographs." She grinned. "It was just like we were in third year again—Kate was chasing Meghan through the halls, waving a camera, and Meghan was shrieking the password to the Fat Lady at the top of her lungs even though she was on the opposite side of the castle."

Ashley giggled. "My mum sounds really silly." Narcissa laughed herself, closing the album. "Did she really run in the halls?"

"Yes." Narcissa smiled. "Meghan was the most energetic person I've ever met—and I even know Sirius and James. She was always so up-and-at-em, no matter how early or late it was. She was always trying to lighten the mood if we were sad…she loved to make jokes or tease people. She would have made a really good mother for you if she had lived."

Ashley snuggled into her mother's arms. "But you're my Mamà, and I don't want another one. You're the best mum any girl could have," she confided sincerely. "I love Meghan, I think, but I love you even more because you're real. Meghan's just a memory."

Narcissa kissed the top of Ashley's head, trying to blink back the tears threatening to fall. "I love you, Ashley," she whispered into her hair.

"Love you too, Mamà."

AshleyAshleyAshley

Ashley sat in bed that night shivering, rubbing her arms and hugging herself. How could this have happened? What had she done?

The ten-year-old had been sitting in her room minding her own business and being very, very quiet—exactly what Lucius always wanted her to do. Narcissa was out at tea with other Slytherin mothers and Draco was off at Hogwarts terrorizing the student population on her father's orders. It was the weekend. He had plenty of free time to scare everyone. And he would do it too, he was that afraid of Lucius. They were all that afraid of Lucius. And he knew they feared him, too.

And still he had come banging into her room, picking her up off her seat and throwing her into the wall. She reached a hand up and felt blood still matting her hair in the back. She dashed away the tears that threatened to run down her already salt-streaked face. Then—oh, she didn't want to remember what he'd done next. She could smell the firewhiskey on his breath, and if there was one thing Lucius didn't need, it was alcohol.

But yet, he had drunk it. And what he had done "under the influence" would haunt Ashley forever.

She pulled her legs out of their crossed position and drew them up to her chest, burying her face in her knees. Her father couldn't be a pedophile. Wait…Lucius wasn't her father.

No, her father wasn't a pedophile. She doubted her father had ever even thought about pedophilia. Lucius, though, he was a different story. He…he raped me, she thought, her eyes lost as she stared into the faintly-lit room around her. The honey-colored wood furnishings barely registered, and the blue walls and the thick white carpet weren't really there. Or was it just that they didn't matter? Not much did, at the moment. How could he have…touched me like that? Her mind skipped back to an incident two or three years ago, when she had seen her mother and Lucius in a compromising position before her father—Lucius—had found her and punished her for "interrupting". He's hurting Mamà the same way, she realized suddenly. But…how could he? And how could he even think of his daughter—that—way?

Was it just that he was drunk? People get drunk, she reasoned, so was it just that? Maybe he was just sick and didn't know what he was doing. That's understandable, right?

What struck her mind as logical thinking didn't change the pain in her heart or the rest of her body. She laughed wetly. I can just see the headline now: Lucius Malfoy Cheats on Wife with Daughter! Rita Skeeter would love it. She rubbed a hand across her tired eyes, knowing that she wouldn't be able to fall asleep yet.

A figure appeared in the doorway. Ashley looked up, startled, before recognizing her mother's gentle features by the light of the torches in her room. "Mamà," she sighed with relief. "You're home late," she commented, the smile on her face belying the tear-streaks on her cheeks.

Narcissa didn't say anything, just stepped into the room and took Ashley's face in her hands. "Oh, my little girl," she almost sobbed. "How could he do this?" She cradled her daughter's head in her hands before giving the girl a loving hug. Ashley returned it slowly, mindful of the belt-marks on her back and her mother's.

She cried into her mother's forgiving, comfortable shoulder. Tears and snot smeared Narcissa's delicate green sleeve as Ashley let it all go.

Narcissa's reassuring, manicured hand stroked Ashley's tangled curly hair. "Just let it all out, love. He had no right."

The dark-haired child hung on to her mother as if the woman were a lifeline. "Why, Mamà?" she begged the question again and again. "Why did he do it? What did I do to him?"

"Ash—" Narcissa trailed off. She swallowed, patting her daughter's hair reassuringly—though whether to reassure her daughter or herself, she wasn't sure. "You have to realize—have to understand—well…" She paused. "He does this for pleasure, love," she blurted out, hugging her daughter closer. "He's a sick, twisted bastard."

Ashley snorted through her tears. Narcissa kissed the young girl's forehead. "Get some sleep, dear." She moved to go, but Ashley clutched at her mother's dress.

"Don't go," she whispered. "Please."

Narcissa sighed, pulling the dark-haired child onto her lap and rocking back and forth. The traumatized child held on to her mother for dear life, only relaxing her grip slightly when sleep took her. She slept on, her breath hitching still with sobs, her head buried in Narcissa's dress. The blonde woman's eyelids drooped lower and lower until she fell asleep with her chin resting on Ashley's head.

And that was how Severus found them the next day when he came to visit, hugging yet asleep, alone in the world that did not love them.

So the great greasy bat of the dungeons strode silently up to his sleeping goddaughter and her mother and sat next to them, putting a friendly arm around Narcissa's waist.

"I'll always be here for you," he whispered in the split second before Ashley and Narcissa awoke.

AshleyAshleyAshley

Draco stepped through the Floo. "Ash!" he called softly to his sister's adjoining room, "I'm home!" He expected the slender, small dark-haired girl to come running.

But the door very, very slowly opened and Ashley smiled timidly at him. "Hello, Ray," she whispered. "How was school?"

"It was amazing," Draco sighed. "Blaise and I spent ages just sitting doing nothing on the weekends, and we didn't even get in trouble!"

He held out a hand to his sister, who grabbed it with her much smaller hand and let him lead her to his bed. She perched on the end while he sprawled on it, kicking off his shoes.

"Is it very big?" she asked.

"Oh, yes," Draco agreed. "It's huge! It's bigger than—than the Manor and a half!" Ashley's eyes widened—all she had ever known was the Manor, and it seemed to be the whole world (Well, except for Pansy Parkinson's home (Nightshade Manor) and the Patil twins' home (Patil House), which were the only other places Ashley had been. Nightshade and Patil House were both slightly smaller than Malfoy Manor.).

"There's the Great Hall, and the North Tower, the Ravenclaw Tower, and the Gryffindor Tower. I don't know where the Hufflepuff dorms are, but Slytherin's are under the lake. It gets really cold, but it's nice, and Uncle Severus is a really good Head of House, even though the rest of the school hates him."

"No one seems to like him." Ashley sighed. "They just don't know him," she rationalized, remembering the day she and her mother had woken up, Severus next to them offering comfort after what had nearly shattered Ashley.

The shouting match between Lucius and her Mamà after that had been explosive, and Narcissa hadn't been able to leave the house for a whole week after. But they had decided together not to tell Draco about it, because it was over, and Ashley would deal with it herself if it killed her. Not that it would.

Hopefully.

"Guess what happened? Dumbledore was keeping the Philosopher's Stone in the school, and one of the professors—Quirrell—he was trying to get it, for some reason. Dumbledore didn't say what the reason was. But anyway, Potter and Weasley and Granger, they went to go rescue the Stone the night Quirrell tried to steal it. And somehow they managed to get a hundred and sixty points for Gryffindor, and then Longbottom got another ten points, and they won the House Cup even though it should have been Slytherin's. I think Dumbledore is a Gryffindor, 'cause he sure favors them most of the time." Draco paused for breath and then launched into the story of what the Gryffindor Trio had triumphed over to rescue the Stone. Ashley listened intently. Draco finished and flopped back in the bed. "That was the best year ever!"

She played with the hem of her knee-length green dress, her legs curled underneath her. It was loose on her—she hadn't been eating much lately. The white ribbon waistband had been tied as tight as it could be and still it was loose. Just that morning, Narcissa had fretted silently over her daughter's thinness, but still Ashley could tell.

"Something wrong, Ash?" Draco asked, flipping over to lay on his stomach, his gray eyes boring in to her stormy blue ones. She looked away, back at her green-covered lap.

She couldn't tell him. He would never understand, and she never wanted him to understand. Now, she had her Mamà, and that was all she needed. She could handle it; she knew she could.

Ashley made a decision that day. She squared her small shoulders and took up the burden that was her life, and resolved to always keep going with the smile her life deserved.

No matter how bad things seemed to get, no matter how much her back ached or her head hurt or her eyes swelled, Ashley would face tomorrow with the same amount of energy that she had faced her very birth with.

She would do whatever she could to protect her family. Even if that protection was only from her own problems.

Ashley's back straightened and her chin tilted up.

Draco sat up, noticing the change, and looked his sister in the eye. Something about her was different, now.

"Something wrong?" he repeated, a little worried now. His concerned gray eyes spoke volumes. His sister's mouth quirked into a lopsided smile.

"Don't worry, Ray," she said strongly, "everything's going to be all right."

It wasn't until days later that he realized she hadn't answered his question.

AshleyAshleyAshley

A/N 2: And there, my friends, is a plot bunny that just randomly hippety-hopped into my head. Now, I promised an Ashley explanation for those who are still unclear about her identity or the identity of her parents. This will also include what you know so far about the adoption thingy. (Meghan is also included. These are my two main original characters.)

Ashley

Ashley Marie Black was born August 31, 1981 (just under the cutoff for Hogwarts, which in my mind is September 1). Her parents are Meghan Aletha Potter Black and Sirius Orion Black. Meghan is James Potter's younger sister (she's only a year younger). Meghan and Sirius married in 1978, the same time as James and Lily. She was adopted at the age of three months by Lucius Theodore Malfoy and Narcissa Marie Black Malfoy, and renamed Ashley Miranda Malfoy to try to disguise her identity. Her birthday has been moved around (to August 28th, coincidentally the same day a year later than my (non-canon) Hermione is born) and people were probably bribed to turn a blind eye to the similarities. Papers have been faked, et cetera, so the birth seems normal. Death Eaters are good at that.

Meghan

James's little sister was born August 8, 1958. She is a Gryffindor. She was in the same Hogwarts year as Narcissa and Regulus Black. She was good friends with Narcissa, Lily Evans, Severus Snape, and Muggleborn Kate Bassett. She married Sirius Black when she was twenty years old. Ashley was born when she was twenty-three. She was attacked by Narcissa Malfoy later that same year.

So does this cover any confusion?

Ashley is in WAYA, LIMOS, and PFTP. If you want to see a slightly different Ashley, find her there. You can also find Meghan in these stories.

Hope you enjoyed. Review and tell me if I should keep posting or not.

Love,

LysPotter xoxo