Okay so Hi everyone I'm a new writer on here so this is my first story its about a girl named Jade Emerald Malfoy and I know in the books Draco doesn't have a daughter but in this fic he does so ignore that little fact. So here's a small sample of my fic enjoy!

All places and characters belong to J.K. Rowling I'm just borrowing them :)

I paced across my room, mentally checking to make sure I had everything ready and packed to leave tomorrow. I was finally getting to go to Hogwarts, and I just couldn't wait! I suddenly remembered I had forgotten my new quills I had gotten just the day before in Diagon Ally. I quickly opened my trunk, put my quills in, and locked it up, setting it down by the door when I heard a soft knock at the door.

"May I come in?"

I responded, "Yes, Mother."

She walked in. She was just dazzling, always so beautiful, even when she wasn't trying, her soft brown hair falling into gentle curls. She smiled at me warmly, which I returned with a kind of smirk of sorts - after all, I was a Malfoy, and Malfoys smirk more than smile. I turned my gaze back up to my mother's face, looking at her expectantly.

She asked me in her soft angelic voice if I had everything I needed packed and ready for tomorrow. I replied with a firm but soft yes. She smiled at me. Coming closer to me, she tucked and runaway streak of hair behind my ear, then, soft as a feather, kissed the top of my head, telling me I should get ready to sleep; it was getting late. I nodded my head acknowledgingly. She smiled at me and closed the door behind her as she left the room.

I walked over to my rather large washroom that's connected to my bedroom to wash my face. I looked into the mirror and gazed at my reflection. My hair was a slick white blond, and about to my hip, with the lower half of it dyed sea green, lighter at the tips. I had stormy grey eyes, high cheek bones, and the fair but pale face of a Malfoy.

I grabbed a washcloth and bottle of face wash and washed my face. I walked back into my bedroom and fell dramaticaly in the middle of it on my large, circular, emerald-green bed, filled with large pillows and blankets.

I sat up and looked around my room, thinking about how I wouldn't be here until next year once I stepped onto the train to Hogwarts tomorrow. One wall was literally a bookshelf, filled with hundreds and hundreds of valuable books, many of them which I hadn't even read. Another one had a large screen, which was programmed to read my mind and play any movie I wanted, or look up something I was curious to learn about, and so much more. A third wall had basically an enormous piece of parchment completely covering it. Against the wall were trays of art supplies, which I used often on the wall; and the cool thing about it was that when I drew or painted on it, whatever I wanted to delete, I could, but leave whatever else was on there to be admired by people coming into my room. And the final wall was a deep emerald green, darker than my bed. In the center of it were large double doors, above which was the crest of Slytherin. Around this wall, which I called the "Drama Wall" were monitors, hidden (unless I didn't want to them to be), so that I could see what was going on in the mansion grounds (and I often saw a lot of drama, which is why I gave it that name - though no one else knew its name, of course).

I considered climbing out of bed and putting on my silk pajamas, but I was mad at my father today so I decided to rebel and go to sleep in my clothes, getting wrinkles all over them! As I lay down in bed, thinking of earlier events of my father, as in why I was mad at him. It had started at dinnner. We were all in the dining room, eating dinner. He had started making small talk, asking if I had gotten everything at Diagon Alley that I needed to. I had replied, yes, that I had gotten it all the day before with Lily Potter, where he had litleraly flipped out, asking why I had associated with such disgraceful people such as them, and had replied, "Yes, I was wondering why I hang out with you, Father?" And I had abruptly stood up, making my chair screech backwards against the cold tile. I stormed out of the dining hall, running to my room, and lay on my bed, crying.

Sighing, I lifted the blankets and crawled under them, hoping tomorrow would be a better day, being much more so than this one.