AN: This fic isn't for kiddies. It's got mentionings of rape and a dark theme.  BACK OFF YOUNGSTERS!!!! 

Review if you like.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

May the Moon Be Just as Bright

Chapter One- The nights before

Ilara Dumbledore

Dahlia hated her brother.   He was a git in the highest sense, and he thought that since he had gotten on the Slytherin Quidditch team, his twin sister didn't even exist.  That and other reasons were why they never got along.

Gone were the times when Dahlia would play Quidditch with him on the broom her mother had bought her (A Nimbus- it was magnificently beautiful) and the times when they'd steal their nanny's wand and cast Dark spells on anything they could find (Dahlia had once put the Imperius curse on a cat- they had laughed for a full afternoon after that incident).  No, no, no…Marcus Warrington was a chaser for Slytherin, and had to practice with his friends.  Last week that cute Slytherin- (Draco Malfoy, was it?) had practiced on the Warrington's private Quidditch pitch.  He was cute, and Dahlia hoped that he'd look her way- his eyes were such a pretty gray.

Of course, Draco Malfoy would never be attracted to her…her long black hair was tamed only by Miss Dewy's magical frizz remover, and her skin never tanned, even when she used Mr. Surfers melanin enhancer.  She had dark blue eyes, so dark they were almost navy, and her frame was petite. The only thing Dahlia really liked about herself was her posture, her grace.  She had received it from her 5 years at Beaubaxtons, living with her maternal grandmother- she had refused to live with her abusive father.  She had come back the summer before her 6th year to a quieter home, minus the screams from her mother's room and yelps of pain from her brother's.  As for her room…she had asked for her four-poster be moved to another room.  She did not want to remember the things that had conspired there.

Maria Warrington's husband had been carted off to Azkaban due to his excessive use of the Cruciatus curse on one of America's Secretaries of State.  After her mother's pleas, Dahlia left Beaubaxtons, promising she'd write her friends, and had written the Headmaster of Hogwarts, asking of she could transfer there.  He had agreed, and though Marcus said Dumbledore was a fool, He had seemed genuinely nice.

But then again, Marcus had an IQ of about ten.

Dahlia twirled her wand between her fingers, looking out at the boys on the Quidditch pitch.  A little fun won't hurt, she thought, stopping her wand twirling and holding the wand lightly in her hand.

Dahlia's lips curled into a smile as she pointed at a bludger.  "Gubernare!" She muttered, as the Bludger came under her control.  Grinning, she feinted the beater and sent the bludger straight at her brother, who was reaching to catch the Quaffle with both arms, leaving his stomach exposed.  A muffled "WUMP!" was heard even by Dahlia, and she was overcome with giggles.  She sent the bludger at her brother again, this time his nose.  Her giggles turned into outright laughter when she saw the blood down her brother's front.  She released the bludger and tucked her wand into her pocket, hurrying downstairs to the entryway with a book. 

As soon as she sat down in front of the fireplace, she heard the doors swing open.  She looked over her shoulder, already knowing what she'd see.

Marcus was being supported by two other boys, both of whom were very tall and wide, but didn't scare Dahlia with their physical prowess.  To her surprise, they brought her brother next to her.  "What happened to you?  Go to mom, she'll fix you.  I don't want to get blood on my shoes.  Go.  Leave." She glared at the boys as they set her brother down on a chair opposite her.

"Fix me." He wheezed.

"What?  No.  You brought it on yourself if your beaters weren't watching the bludgers."  She pretended to return to her book.

"We were!" Said a burly sixth year near her right.

Dahlia glanced at him.  "Right.  Sure.  That's not why my brother is all bloody…he must have rammed into a tree.  Again." She heard a stifled chuckle from the Malfoy boy as she stood. 

"Fix me, Dahlia, or I'll tell mum you did it."

Dahlia grinned.  He had no proof, why worry?  "I didn't."

"She'll believe me."

Dahlia thought about that.  It was true, Maria Warrington didn't trust her daughter in the least, and loved her brother much more than she.  After all, Dahlia had been the biggest troublemaker at Beaubaxtons, and had left her mother when she had needed her daughter most. 

Dahlia whipped out her wand in a fluid motion.  "Tattletale." She muttered as she fixed his broken nose with a wave of her wand.  A smile played at her lips as she realized she hadn't used any magical peroxide or the like…it was most likely he'd get an infection.

Marcus stood up and breezed by Dahlia, not even stopping to thank her.  Dahlia rolled her eyes and threw her book, "Dark Ages Wizardry Burnings" onto the mantle.  She glared at Marcus as he and his little followers left, and Dahlia's heart skipped in her chest when Draco stopped at the door and began to turn.  Dahlia quickly whirled around and stalked toward the staircase so he wouldn't know she'd been watching.

"Er…Dahlia?"

She had never heard him speak before- it was a lovely thing to hear.  It was smooth and strong at the same time…"Yes?" She asked, turning.

"I saw you use the Controller charm on the bludger…I must say, I've never mastered it, seeing as it's Dark Magic…" Dahlia stared at him.

"You want help?" Her tone was shocked, and she looked suspicious. 

"If you don't mind.  I'd certainly appreciate it…"

Dahlia shrugged.  "Sure.  When do you want to be taught?" She emphasized the last word with a wave of her hand.  She'd be teaching him.  It was a useful thing, teaching a Malfoy anything, seeing as they never asked for it.  Draco himself was pink in the cheeks.  He must be really bad at the charm if he's asking me, she thought

Draco shrugged.  "Now would be great." Dahlia's heart thumped crazily in her chest.  Calm down, you stupid organ!  She willed.  Out loud, she said, "Well, alright.  Come on upstairs, we'll do it in the extra bedroom."

As she turned, she flinched, realizing how that sounded.  She whirled around, looking him in the eye, his smirk evident.  "The Charm.  Honestly.  You British people have sick minds."

Draco took three steps and was right next to her.  "Do we?" He asked.

Dahlia's heart was going insane now.  "Yes.  The French would never think like that."

Draco's smirk became more evident.  "Why did you go to France?  Marcus said it was because Hogwarts wouldn't accept you, but you've mastered the Controller charm, so I doubt that."

Dahlia truned to the stairway, walked up.  "That," She said pointedly, "Is something that is my business."

Draco shook his head.  "Alright then, but answer me this- did you move back here because your father is gone?"

Dahlia stayed quiet, opening the door to one of the many bedrooms, this one being the nicest.

After a few moments, he followed her inside, taking in the whispering paintings and Mahogany Aimores.  He said nothing, he was a Malfoy, after all, but the enchanted ceiling even made his demeanor falter for a moment.

"I'd only seen an enchanted ceiling in Hogwarts!" He exclaimed, almost losing his drawl.

Dahlia blushed.  "Yes, well, I felt like trying out that spell…"

Draco gave her a sideways glance.  "You did this?!"

Dahlia became offensive.  "Yes, I did it.  What, you think I'm not good enough?"

Draco shook his head, lost for words for a moment.  "It's just- you're so young…"

"I'm your age."

"Yes, but….the Transparency spell is advanced magic…Not even Granger could do it…when did you?"

Dahlia shrugged.  "I was bored last week.  Who's Granger?"

Draco's eyes clouded over slightly.  "A girl…she's a know-it-all, and-"

"You're desperately in love with her." Dahlia's stomach plummeted as the expression on Draco's face flickered- it was all the proof she needed.

"What-no!  She's a- mudblood-" Draco sputtered.  Dahlia stared at him for a moment, the King of coolness reduced to a sputtering boy.

Dahlia rolled her eyes and silenced him with her hand.  "Honestly.  What is she, horridly ugly?  Insanely pretty?  A…" Dahlia paused as the truth hit her. "Gryffindor?"

Draco sighed and sat on the bed, putting his face in his hands. "Hermione Granger.  Muggle-born.  Brilliant, top of every class, and she slapped me once."

Dahlia rolls her eyes again and sits next to him.  "Well, Mud-er, muggle-borns can be okay."

"My father would kill me."

My father has tried.  Thought Dahlia with a shiver.  "Well, when we get to Hogwarts, I'll work my matchmaker magic." As much as I like you, I could never be with you…

"She hates me.  I tease her and her friends all the time…Potter, he's an egotistical git, and Ron is-"

Dahlia interrupted him.  "Why would you tease her in the first place?  Thats how to handle crushes when you're five, not fifteen." 

Draco shook his head.  He looked surprisingly vulnerable.  "I don't know- It's what my father wanted me to do?"

This guy is messed up, thought Dahlia.  "Well, we'll deal with that later.  I need to teach you the Controller charm." She stood, and transfigured an armchair into a parrot. 

"All you do is concentrate on controlling the parrot with all your might- figure out something for it to do beforehand, it will be simpler." She looked at Draco.  He was staring at the parrot fixedly.  He smirked.

"Got it.  Now what?"

Dahlia twirled her wand in an arc, then brought it down, pointing at the parrot.  "Mirror that wand move."

Draco mirrored her arc and point clumsily, then looked to her for guidance.  Dahlia lowered her wand.  "Then say, 'Gubernare', concentrating on what you want it to do."

Draco nodded, twirled his wand and muttered the spell.  The parrot squawked, then fell dead.  He flinched.  "Oops."

Dahlia laughed, and transfigured the dead parrot into the armchair again; this time its leather was torn and mangled.  She swept it to the other side of the room.  "I expected that.  Too much power and a living thing will die under the Controlling charm.  It doesn't matter with inanimate objects, but living things are articulate.  It's best to learn on them- to learn to draw a line between not powerful enough and too powerful."

Draco nodded as Dahlia conjured a rabbit this time.  "Try it again."

Draco repeated the process, and the rabbit was halfway through a jump when the spell hit it.  It fell dead on the floor.

"Oh, well, third's a charm," She said, making the rabbit disappear and conjuring a parakeet.  This one dropped dead as well.  It continued until they had gone through a badger, a fowl, a dog, a small horse, a cat, and a goldfish, among many other animals.  It had been at least an hour since they had first started. 

Dahlia insisted he try controlling something inanimate, but he refused, wanting to learn the line between too powerful and not powerful enough.  It looked as if he had made progress on the goldfish, as it had simply looked at the two of them before finally dying and floating to the surface, but perhaps that was just because the spell took longer to go through the water of the bowl.

"Alright, last one and then I'm kicking you out." Dahlia said, conjuring a snake with a muttered, "Serpensortia." A snake appeared and stretched its coils, looking at Draco.  Dahlia laid herself down on the bed, energy drained from conjuring so many animals.  She barely looked up when Draco muttered the spell.  Only after a pause did she realize the snake had not died.  Dahlia got to her elbows to see Draco, with a look of utmost concentration, making the snake twist its tail into an intricate design- a heart.  Dahlia held back a snicker.  Malfoy?  Forcing a snake to twirl its tail into a heart?  It was laughable.  In fact, the moment that Draco began to smile genuinely at the snake, Dahlia giggled loudly, and he lost his concentration. 

"What did you do that for?!" he hissed as the snake flopped down on the floor, hissing.  Dahlia smirked at him, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes. 

"A heart?"

Draco actually blushed.  "It's all I could think of!"

Dahlia stood and swept the snake into her arms.  "Well then.  What do you say we have a bit of fun?"

Draco smirked at Dahlia's dark, hooded eyes, and followed her out the door and down the hall.  She turned to him for a moment.  "I assume you dislike my idiot brother?"

Draco said nothing, but his eyes revealed he what he thought of Marcus Warrington-He was an idiot with not enough talent to be a chaser.  Dahlia grinned darkly, and she entered her brothers room, adorned with posters of moving, naked women, making Dahlia look away disgusted as one waved provocatively at her.  Draco stared, grinning.  Dahlia poked him in the ribs.

"Don't you dare get a happy."

"A…happy?" Draco turned to her quizzically.

"Yes, a happy, you wanker." Draco looked shocked at her language use.  "That's what the Americans call it when guys…" Dahlia blushed and started toward her brother's wardrobe. "Never mind."

Draco sniggered and grinned.  "I can guess what it means."

Dahlia groaned and brandished her wand, pointing at her brother's boxer drawer.  She muttered and incantation and grinned darkly.  "What did that do?" Asked Draco.

Dahlia sniggered.  "Well, once he puts on his boxers, they'll shrink to a, er…painful size."

Draco looked at her.  "You really hate him."

Dahlia went to her brother's four-poster and nodded slightly, speaking so soft she thought Draco wouldn't hear.  "He supported what my father did."

Obviously, he heard, and asked, "What did your father do?"

Dahlia didn't speak, and enchanted the sheets to glue to her brother when he got in for the night.  But her thoughts were: What didn't he do?  Her mind went back to the years before she moved to France, when he would beat her for the smallest things.  Luckily, her father hadn't been very attracted to her, and instead moved onto her brother for his…escapades.  Oh, how she had remembered the tears on her brother's face after one of those midnight visits.  He had sobbed into her shoulder and massaged his bottom, saying it wasn't fair.  He had begun hating her back then, telling her she was lucky to be a girl, as their father had only liked men.

Dahlia had never understood it, not until she reached the age of ten, and it dawned on her what was going on.  She had stood up against him one night, when he had sat on the edge of her bed to read a story.  Such a fatherly gestures he demonstrated to his daughter and such cruelties to his son…  And yet it had been his son that loved him when no love was there for their father to return, and the daughter that hated him when there was love given to her.  Sure, she was hit once in a while when she did something wrong, but she believed that was her fault.

Dahlia shivered and remembered the reasons she had left, the reason she refused to sleep in her old room.  One night as he had finished reading "Marina Miggs, the Mad Muggle's wife", and was heading out the door, Dahlia asked him, very bluntly, why he did it.

"Do what, sweetheart?" He asked, voice sugar sweet.  He had always been kind to her, and Dahlia wondered why he hated his son so.

"Why does Marcus cry?  He's started using words I don't understand.  He says you tell him he's something called a fuck toy.  What is that, father?"

Her father's reaction was shocking to the young girl that only had a question needing to be answered.  Never before had he hit her without a good reason, but it seemed the stars that night insisted.  He hit her, and Dahlia rocketed back, clutching her nose, where blood began to spurt. 

He began to beat her throughout that night, and returned back, every night, sometimes before going to her brother's room, when the beatings would be horrid and long, and sometimes after, when the beatings would be short and without her screams.  It seemed when one of his children was in pain, he would let up on the other's, and Marcus began to hate her less.

Until she moved to France, when her brother began to enjoy their father's nightly visits.  It disgusted Dahlia.  He shouldn't be enjoying what was done with him.  Also, when Marcus enjoyed what their father did, Dahlia would be beaten worse than ever before.  The night he broke all the bones in her left arm, Dahlia ran away.  She was barely twelve, and she found herself alone in the night, terrified.

She ran to the first place that came to mind, her grandmother's.  She took the family's horseless carriage, and demanded it bring her to South France, where her grandmother lived.  It had taken off into the air, and separated the distance between Dahlia and her father so quickly she burst into tears.  She was leaving her life behind, and Dahlia was scared, for she may never return. Dahlia nursed her arm and used various healing spells, few of which healed her fully, but helped the pain.  She landed outside her grandmother's mansion, and ran up the majestic steps, screaming all the while.

The rest of that night had been a blur.  Her grandmother had taken her in, healed her bones and the bruises on her body, and sent letters to the Ministry of Magic in Britain, insisting that her granddaughter's magical presence be transferred onto the list in Beaubaxtons, where she would go until she felt the need to return to Britain, and attend Hogwarts. 

She was bombarded with her mother's pleas and her brother's accusations.  She read the following letter from her brother sadly; a week after she had ran away.

Dahlia,

Damn you!  He and I were just beginning to get along, and then you had to leave!  How dare you!  You've ruined everything!  He's gone back to hurting me, not making me happy!  I hate you.  I'll hate you until the day I die. 

                                                                                    Marcus

This letter made Dahlia finalize her decision to stay in France, and she started Beaubaxtons hoping to leave the past behind her.  She had to learn French, but it was worth it not to live with her father.

Dahlia snapped back to reality as Draco shook her.  "Are you alright?  You were just standing there, not even blinking, and you started to shake!  Are you okay?" He asked.

No. No.  I'll never be.  "Yes.  I'm fine.  Just got a bit dizzy.  Let's get out of here."  They left her brother's room, but Dahlia looked back sadly.  She saw through all those pictures of naked women he had on his walls.  She knew that under them lay naked men's posters, that Marcus only had the female posters up because her mother would hate for her only son to be attracted to men.

Dahlia sighed and left her brother's room, not knowing Voldemort was watching through the fake mirror on her brother's South Wall, a cold smile on his face.