My name is Belladonna Rose Malfoy, older sister to Draco Malfoy, and only daughter to Nacrissa and Lucius Malfoy. My god mother is Bellatrix Lestrange, she's also my aunt who adores me to no end. She despises children, even more so when they are at my 'tender' age of sixteen. I am her only exception, if only because of my 'training' in the dark arts. I was trained while my brother was not simply because my god mother had – in her own right – promised me to the Dark Lord during his rebirth. I was at her disposal, and now I was at the disposal of Voldemort.
"Mother, Father, Severus Snape has offered to take me to school during the time he is there so that we can continue my lessons without having to stop for sorting and socializing." My tone was guarded, polite, and placid. My stance was nothing short of regal – thanks to the fact that I would have to be worthy of being in the presence of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. My mother smiled sweetly at me and kissed my forehead, asking me if I wanted to go while my father urged me with his eyes to go. He wanted me to please the Dark Lord and restore my family's value to him whereas he had failed. "It is my duty to go, what pleases me and what does not is no consequence of mine." Pity filled my mother's eyes, but for all my locked away feelings I could not draw any affection for her.
"Very good, excel in your magic, dear." My father commented, parting with me and giving me an affectionate tug of my braid. He was a good father, wanting only what was good for me – even if it was in an unorthodox way. I could see the reasoning in his wanting me to be in the good graces of Voldemort, it meant that my life, and my family's, would be protected and kept in store. He was raised in the dark arts, so it was all he knew, just as it was all I knew.
"I will. Father, Mother." I gave each a small hug, knowing that it was just as awkward for me as it was for my father, and left. Affection was required when parting, as was it when greeting; or so I had been told. Severus Snape, my mentor in many things, was waiting for me at my front door. He nodded pleasantly at me when he saw that I was early to depart – which to him was on time – and escorted me to the car in which he would be taking to the train station. Teachers took a special train when the letters began going out to the first years, that way they could get everything together and have a month to get their schedule for the year and their classrooms in order. I was relieved when I saw my one suitcase and my gray tabby sleeping happily on it.
"I will get my room in order, then will await you for your training session. In my office, usual time." He instructed, knowing that I would follow through without flaw. I never had much to unpack, no tokens of affection from family, no wasted efforts and social application through various colors and extravagant things. All I had were for my studies, an extra pillow, Rowan – my cat's – food, grooming appliances, and a tooth brush. I knew enough spells to make everything else un-necessary.
"Of course," he wasn't taken aback by my casual response, nor by the lack of intensity. We had long since discussed that I was unable to feel and he was incapable of showing it. I had noticed that he glanced at me far more than usual by his peripheral. Maybe my parents had told him that they had been planning on putting me with him as a bride instead of being with Voldemort as a pet. I wasn't going to ask, there was no need to. If he felt I needed to know he would bring it up, otherwise I had no right to know.
"When you are in the Dark Lord's presence, what are you to do?" A test, already. It was for that reason that I knew I was to be given to the dark lord soon. He had been resurrected a few months ago, but as I recall he had to gather his strength. My Aunt had returned to his side and visited us, me, frequently. She was pleased with my advancement in magic and my looks. She wanted me perfect for Voldemort.
"I am to kneel on the ground, kiss his robes, proclaim myself and my title, then offer myself as retribution to my family." He nodded, accepting my answer. His shoulders were tense, but not the usual way. The muscle in his jaw was clenching, but not in the way that meant he was thinking. He was agitated, but my answer had been right. "He should not deny me, but should the possibility happen then I am to offer my life as amusement to him for failing to meet his interest." His muscle twitched once more.
"If you are accepted?" his tone was curt, as if that outcome wasn't an option. He was acting unusual, then again I must have been too.
"If I am accepted I am to kiss his robes once more, stand and rest at his side or in a specific location should he tell me so. Anything he asks of me I am to follow through with to the upmost of my abilities. Should I displease him I will take my punishment without complaint, then thank him afterwards." He nodded once more, a taut sigh escaping his lips.
"No more, lessons are only to resume once we return to Hogwarts." I nodded, accepting that – for some inane reason – he did not want to talk about it any further. I was not all that obliged to like the topic of our conversation either, but then again I never gave my own feeling – if I had any – any thought. I was taught to suppress any emotional responses I had at a young age, it just stuck throughout the rest of my life.
"What does joy feel like?" I hadn't meant to ask it, but I was genuinely curious. While he said he hadn't been able to express feelings he must have felt them. Even when he was younger, before he was a Death Eater. My question must have cut him off guard, if only because of the extra blink of his eye as he drove into the train station parking lot. His response came after a long silence, though by the time he had answered we were already moving into the ticket booth with our luggage behind us.
"I remember only a bit of it from when I was a boy. There's different kinds, warm and peaceful, or casual and exhilarating." He explained with an impassive face, then ordered two tickets from the witch. I blinked and tried to envision it, only to fail. He turned to me when we entered the platforms and had his brows furrowed. "Have you not felt it? Not even once?" we never had a discussion of personal interests, probably because I had none and he didn't express his.
"No, the last emotion I remember feeling was anger. I was two when I felt it, and it was powerful. That same day my parents told me to suppress my emotions, my god mother told me that they were useless things that would get me killed. Whenever I expressed an emotion she would use the cruciatus curse on me until I learned my lesson, or until I stopped screaming." I felt nothing even as I said it, pain was a feeling I knew well enough to block it out. His eyes were disbelieving, if a bit angered, as I said this. To disprove any thoughts of me lying I met his gaze and let him use occulmency on me. The memory had no feeling for me, the sting was little more than a gust of wind. He was staring at me as if I was completely insane.
"You have no ability to feel at all?" I shook my head, stepping past the portal as the clock chimed ten after eight, and met him at the luggage port. "Is it an inability, or do you subconsciously suppress it the moment you begin to feel it?" a good question, a question I wanted to answer long ago. Then I discovered the answer in a way that had led me to believe I was mistaken.
"I have the inability to feel. The first time I felt anything was just a small quiver than trailed down my spine." He prompted me to explain as we took our seats across from one another. This train ride was going to be a bit longer, a couple of hours; thankfully our compartment was empty. The rest of the teachers were at the front of the train. "During my first year I caught your gaze. I had already known you by my parents' description, but seeing you made me shake." He, again, prompted me to explain in minute detail everything I felt. "It was a small clenching of my muscles in my back. I felt heat trickle there, then felt my toes clench." I shrugged once more and met his inquiring gaze. "I asked my mother, she told me it was anticipation." He nodded absentmindedly, briefly checking the scenery outside the window before closing the blind.
"Understandable, since it is I who is now your mentor. A pivotal role in your life," his tone was less than pleased, as if he was trying to tell me to be quiet. I did so willingly. "You may spend this train ride by either studying or sleeping." There was only one right answer. I pretended to not see his grin when I picked up my newest Dark Arts Book. It was for the witches and Wizards hoping to excel in the process of defensive and offensive Dark Arts. My mother was over joyed when I requested it, my father expected it and bought me the next edition as a birthday present. It was the first, and the last, present I would get from him for my birthday.
By The time we got to the outpost outside of Hogwarts I had gotten halfway through my book and knew ten new offensive spells and eleven defensive spells. The Professors greeted me and went on their way, each one inspecting the proximity of myself and Snape. They did so each time I appeared with him on the Professor's train – something I had been doing since my first year at Hogwarts, I was now in my sixth. When they were satisfied by the professional appearance the two of us had they left.
We didn't say anything as we parted ways, I was going to the Slytherin Dorm and into my room which I was going to be sharing with a first year and two other fourth years. Since I was able to use magic in school I practiced a few spells that helped me unpack and jinx my stuff so that only I could touch it. Rowan jumped on my bed the moment I put a scent smell on it to make it smell like lavender and vanilla and curled up, purring contentedly. I gave her a small head rub and began down the stairs once more, putting my wand in my boot so that it wouldn't get damaged, and headed straight towards Snape's office. He was just unlocking the door as I arrived, though he made no notion of bringing up that I was indeed early, probably aggravatingly so.
"We will start with you attacking first, then we will switch. Once I'm finished with that then we shall go to jinxes and hexes, then curses and counter curses." The difference with offensive and defensive spells, and curses and counter curses, is that curses are meant to linger in the victim, whether it's poisoning or an overload of blemishes. Attacks are meant to do the damage then, be quick and un perturbed. Counter curses usually send them right back, while defensive spells block or completely annihilate the attack spell coming at the victim. Jinxed and hexes are objectionable spells. You could only jinx or hex an inanimate object. Many witches and wizards fused jinxes and hexes with curses, I was supposed to know the difference.
We began with simple curses, then he demanded that I show him something worth his time, something that would please the Dark Lord. I showed him the advanced attacks I knew, attacks that my own father had problems with. He blocked them easily, then began on his attack. His spells were full force, as mine had been, and were a bit tricky to keep from getting to me. My calm helped me to specify the correct response to each attack. Each attack has a single defense that obliterates the intensity and presence of the spell, many other defenses can weaken it or make the on-coming spell something else entirely. He wanted perfect from me, they all wanted perfect from me, so perfect was what I was going to give them.
"I am both disappointed and pleased. You've progressed a great deal, yet it is still not enough." He was right, of course. I needed to be more powerful than the most powerful witch in the Dark Lords arsenal. That meant I had to be only a notch below him, so that I could keep up with him but not be a liability. I would study more, sleep less. Then I could be at the ledge I needed to be on to be acceptable. He sent a curse at me, thinking I had trailed off with my thoughts. I countered it with a smaller curse that changed his pain curse into a gust of wind.
"I am simply thinking through a way of more studying to be placed within my schedule, I am not wool gathering." I informed him, explaining that I was not ignoring his lesson. He rolled his wrist, compelling me to continue. "I have concluded that I will need to sleep less so that I may study more and reach the potential that I am expected." He inquired as to how much sleep I was getting as is. "Six hours, enough to continue to comprehend and learn. I will be able to do the same with four hours of sleep." He looked agitated again.
"You are not getting the sleep you need, nor will you be should you decide the new study plan." He looked at me through narrowed eyes, my own stance as impassive as ever. "You study during meal times, eating only enough to keep you alive, and during free periods which you practice your magic in the court yard. During our Occulumency training every other day you get only a meager amount of sleep. Yet you still manage to best even Granger in most of your classes." It was mandatory that he check in on my progress through each of my classes, just to see if I was adequate in each subject.
"I will sleep when it is needed, but as you have said I am not yet at the point of which I need to be. A risk of displeasing his Lordship is not a probability. When I do something I am to do it to the best of my ability, if I am lacking then I have failed and shall fix the error." We began once again, small comments on my form being made and a reprimand for getting a counter jinx wrong and making the chair turn into a rat.
"Your lesson is over for now, I will call upon you when I decide it shall start again." He didn't ask where I would be, because he knew. I always tried to study in the courtyard, especially when it was empty. Considering it was going to be empty for a month I was definitely going to be there a while. He turned his back on me, prompting me into leaving the room and Accio-ing my books to me. By the time the light had dimmed and I could barely read I had gotten through three of my books and was on my fourth one, the last. "Did you know, Headmaster, that they say when a man is un-afraid of death he has nothing to live for?" I asked as I heard footsteps on the grass behind me. The age old magic of Dumbledore's made the air crackle with life, showing me that it was he who approached. He chuckled and sat beside me.
"Yes, I believe it is a terrible misquote." I nodded, conceiting on that part. Something about the quote confused me, he sensed it and answered my unspoken question. "It means that if you can face death and not feel fear, not feel regret and longing, then you have not lived your life as you should have." That made sense, though I would never feel those when confronting death. I would die if I displeased He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named yet I had no misgivings about it. I would take whatever punishment, even if the cost was my life. There was nothing more I could do, nothing I wanted to do, simply because I was raised for that very purpose. "Yes, with your handicap I believe I can understand the confusion." He commented quietly, gazing at the stars that began to peak out from the clouds. "Have you ever wished to feel anything? Have you never felt the sunshine on you and wished you could feel the peace and serenity that comes with it?" he asked me seriously, as if finally being able to word what he had been thinking since he first found out about my inability to feel.
"No, I have only done as requested and needed of me. Feeling was the one thing I was, am, not permitted to do. My purpose has been planned, nothing else matters except for that." He was saddened by my answer. He knew of my plan, he had found out through my brother as he bragged about it in the halls when he first arrived here. A strong scolding from my father proved to shut him up about it, and now not a word has been uttered against me. "You are a good man, Brian Dumbledore." He was shocked at hearing his first name, that much was obvious, but he was also pleased. "But you cannot save everyone." He was quiet for a while, assessing me with his eyes as if he found someone wearing my skin and speaking with my voice. When he was satisfied that it was me he turned his attention back to the stars.
"I may not be able to do anything about your predicament, but I may be able to suggest a way of making it so that you are not as broken." Now it was my turn to look at him as if he were someone else wearing Dumbledore's skin. He smiled at my look and laughed. "Find someone, something, to love. It is a powerful thing, love. It can heal the worst wounds, counter a curse that has never been countered before. It may even make you realize that there are things that you want in life." I didn't have to tell him that I haven't the faintest idea how to love, or to adore. I couldn't explain to him that the most affectionate I've ever come to being with anyone was me being on a mutual ground of understanding with my father and his decisions in life.
"Perhaps." He chuckled once more and parted, leaving me to pick my books up and return to my room. Snape had not called upon me, so I assumed – correctly so – that our lessons were done for the day. I practiced in my room, studied and crammed, until I nearly fell down in my bed of exhaustion. By the time I changed into my night gown and crawled under my covers I was reciting parts of the book in my brain, burning the spells into eyelids so that I wouldn't forget with the sleep that was fast approaching. I only let go of consciousness when Rowan curled up beside me, cradling against my breasts and stomach, purring happily and soon falling asleep with me.