Lucia Sometimes hated funerals, as was it apparent as she stared distastefully at her aunt's corpse in the satin coffin. The rickety old face fixed in a manic smile that, she was sure, never had graced those hard features.
After hearing thousands of laments to the dead witch, Lucia was sure she would cry in despair. This woman's life was not worth so many words, especially such flattering phrases like "beacon of light," and "joy of the family." Quite on the contraire, whenever Aunt Peony stepped into the room the lights dimmed substantially and all joy was sucked into a void of nothingness. Aunty Peony was, and always will be, the most feared name in the Sometimes family tree. Lucia was quite sure everyone was nearly happy she was dead, even her dear husband who had remarried nearly the second she snuffed it.
They weren't happily married anyway. As it was arranged when they were too young to distinguish genders and probably wouldn't care if they were to marry a hippogriff.
Lucia was very aware of the dry eyes around her, the creeping of fingers and the tapping of wands against wood. The silent prayer was very loud in her ears. It rang out "Oh please let the old hag leave us in peace."
But dear old Peony wouldn't do that now would she?
"And now for the Last Will and Testament of Peony Burberry Sometimes," the creeping fingers halted, along with the tapping. Those dry eyes were now fixed on Peony's lawyer. "It seems she would like a choice few to see it only. When I call your name, if you please step into the penseive that would be wonderful. Jordina Burberry, Sigmund Sometimes, Ferdinand Sometimes, Kelly Fetching and Lucia Sometimes."
Jordina Burberry was Peony's little sister, a (if even possible) harsher Peony, with wiry hair pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck.
Sigmund Sometimes was her darling husband, who had aged quite well in contrast to his mangled dead wife.
Her son was the infamous Ferdinand, who was a playboy in his own right. But mostly a woofter with nothing to do but finger his arse. Peony was always quite bitter towards him but it was presumably a maternal trait.
Kelly Fetching who, true to her name, was quite a fetching woman was actually a friend of Peony's. She was sweet looking and had laugh lines running across her face like milestones to all the fun she must have had when she was young.
Lucia was the odd one. Peony did not like Lucia and Lucia was to awash in Peony's ugly personality to even bother to notice her aunt's particularly harsh pinches on the cheek and crude remarks. She hated the girl since the day she was born, because Lucia was born into a rich, spoiled house with padded corners and sugary bedtime stories. Her brown hair always brushed by someone else. Glossy eyed and stupid under her mother's arm, she was the image of everything Peony hated.
If all the people at the funeral were in a theatre, there would have been a gasp at that very moment, followed by a deep silence. But it was only quiet.
Lucia dunked her head into the penseive along with her uncle, cousin, aunt and acquaintance, inwardly dreading what waited on the other side.
The wisps of Peony's life threaded around them, hugging at their black robes and tugging at their sleeves until finally the spinning stopped and reality regained its toll.
The room they were in was a deep blue. It looked like an office of a particularly rich man, probably her lawyer. There were books strewn across a desk of Mahogany and old chairs with satin coverings. Behind the desk sat a duplicate of Peony's lawyer that stood beside Ferdinand, who looked quite sloshed and dull eyed. Peony was sitting in all her grandeur in front of the desk. Her grey hair wispy and her face flushed.
"You may begin now." Said the duplicate lawyer.
"I assumed just as much George." Peony replied tartly, lifting her nose up so high it probably interrupted broom traffic. "Jordina, my dear sister. Where would I be without you." Her mouth twitched with a dispassionate smile.
Jordina let out a cry of sadness and rushed to her sister's side.
"I would like to give you my collection of Lockhart's Published works. I'm sure you will treasure them as I have." Her sister was quite happy with this gift and fled into the arms of her nephew.
"Now Sigmund, I do not doubt that you have married that whore Heather since my death, and so you get nothing." She smiled in delight and smugly smirked in what seemed to be my direction.
"Kel-kel, my affectionate friend. You have stayed by my side throughout these trying years. Because of this I give you all my jewels and this pensieve so you will remember us always." Now this, Lucia had to admit, was a thoughtful gift, though somewhat disconcerting.
"Ferdinand and Lucia, the two dreadful young creatures who dare to continue the Sometimes family name. I give you a challenge. Whoever finds out who their true father is get's my fortune." It wasn't at all unexpected she would do something like this; if there was anyone Peony hated more than Lucia it would be her own promiscuous son. But admitting that she had an affair and lied about the father of her own son was beyond her own disgusting level of low.
"I realize this won't be an easy task. How ridiculous would it be if it was? Lucia's mother is an ugly whore who had an uglier daughter on the inside an out," Smirked Peony.
"And the pot calls the cauldron black." Lucia mutter, pulling at her curly hair.
"And I have covered my tracks quite well. But I know who both of your fathers are. Only if you are right will you win." It was all a game to Peony, even in death. Pulling what little joy and security out of our lives and replacing it with distrust and chaos.
"I hope you are pleased with your gifts." A smile crept onto her broken features. "And I hope to see you soon."
The memory ended and the group was sent sprawling out onto the wooden floor. The church was now empty, as everyone had left for their cheerful homes.
"Damn it all!" Cried Ferdinand in despair, pulling at his silken sheen of black hair. "That bitch just wants her money to rot away in Gringotts."
"Who says one of them won't find out?" Asked the ever loving Kelly.
"The laws of nature" Lucia replied begrudging. "Besides, Peony was right, my mother has slept with too many men. I could never narrow it down." She looked at her cousin who was scooting away from his father.
"No, I suppose not." Ferdinand spoke.
"I hope her soul is being patronized by Voldemort right now." Sigmund said with a dark delight.
"It's more likely that she's patronizing him." Lucia snapped. It was of course the truth.
Jordina had yet to speak since the exiting of the pensieve but the words that left her mouth spoke volumes. "You're scummy blood will never contaminate the Burberry fortune. You little chits have more coming to you than you can ever imagine. Go piss-up in your own bloody house and leave ours alone." She yelled, running out of the church.
Lucia took this as her cue to depart and hugged her uncle and waved off the rest. After exiting the church her eyes began to droop and she was lulled into this peaceful pace towards her home in the foothills of Scotland.
It wasn't as if Lucia couldn't travel there by any other means, but she always preferred to walk, if only to understand what she had just witnessed.
She did not want to discover her father, too her she was fatherless. It wasn't as if she didn't have it drilled into her since she was a kid that children came from a man and a woman but she never really understood where than man was needed. She simply believed that the mushy romance part of a relationship was not for her. This ultimate betrayal of body to mind was so frightening she simply did not want to be flourished by the ravenous attentions of the masculine portion of humanity.
She was above that. She wanted the ultimate alliance between two understanding individuals, and unfortunately, this ravishing of her body was often viewed as part of the alliance. Her husband was to be a wanker no matter what the situation. She would not tolerate infidelity.
Now her outlook on the male sex was often quite skewed. Pulling ideas from feminist outlooks and her own stubbornness before halting and realizing something. What of a man's touch? Is it really so uninvited? Only to come to the conclusions that yes, yes it was.
What of the glory of a woman? Of the rash caution that only someone with a vagina can summon with such intensity that it would even be described as harsh. Women are the internal figures. In myth they are the power behind it all, they nurture the hero and help them grow. They are the awakening and sometimes the death. But they are not the hero. A female hero is an entity in and of itself.
When Lucia arrived home, she was greeted by her own mother's warm embrace. It wasn't uncommon that Genevieve Sometimes spoiled her solemn daughter with compliments and gifts and it wasn't entirely unwelcome. Lucia did not mind the attention but rather basked in it. Welcoming this strange affection, that was instigated by her birth, as nothing more than a natural occurrence of the mother to the daughter.
The Sometimes family was rich in everything from money to love. It wasn't an unhappy household but rather a liberated one, since no man had ever entered it for very long. It was one of the only strong pureblood houses that managed to escape Voldemort's grip during the second war. It retained all of its dignity despite Genevieve's promiscuity and was quite reproachful on the topic of choosing any sides.
Lucia went to Hogwarts during the war. Only in her sixth year when it ended and quite frightened when the final battle occurred. She thought back to it often, reminiscing about her hiding place in the passageway between Hogwarts and Honeydukes. It was less that she was afraid and more that she felt like she was simply getting in the way.
She was only ever good at transfiguration and charms. Never did she have the courage to do anything with Defense Against the Dark Arts and was quite stupid when it came to potions. She was a Ravenclaw but was useless when it came to practical use of whatever she learned.
She would start her last year at Hogwarts in days and was quite awash in hopes that it would become what it was before Dumbledore passed, but that was unlikely. She was packed and ready when her mother received a peculiar letter from what was later described as an 'old family friend' and called Lucia down.
"Lucia, it seems we have come to be in the good graces of the Malfoy family again!" She smiled in delight. Completely enraptured in the sudden interest of some of London's finest wizards.
"I'm sure they secretly think we're the scourge of the dirge. They just pretend to care about our well being and safety." Lucia smirked, grabbing an apple from the counter and taking a bite before sitting nonchalantly on the bar stool.
"Just as I am sure that this means something wonderful for our family." After receiving a blank stare from her daughter Genevieve continued. "It means we are viewed as equally powerful! Isn't that wonderful."
Lucia was obviously not dashed in delight at the thought of power. It was in fact very low on her list of things she wished to accomplish before she left the world. Right above become pregnant and falling in love.
The Malfoys weren't exactly on her list of good people either. They were traitors to humanity and all things she viewed as good and pure in the world. They destroyed without a thought towards the consequences of their actions. She was disgusted by Draco and his father. They were the muck that seeped through all cracks no matter how many sealants are used to block them out.
"Anyways, they have invited us to tea before sending you two off to your last year at Hogwarts. Oh isn't this wonderful." Swooned Genevieve, pulling gossamer strands of hair out of her tender face. "we shall have to attend then, won't we?" It was less of a request and more a demand. Lucia had no way of getting out of this particular tea.
"Mum, I'm quite aware of their stature but Draco graduated, he's a year older." Lucia corrected her mother.
"No no my dear, his education was delayed because of the… war." Her voice faltered at the mention of that faithful year.
"It's not a dirty word mum, we all know that it happened and who was involved." Lucia was nearly finished with the apple and aimed to be done with the conversation by the time she had devoured it. "Besides, it's only their fault they chose to indulge in the losing side of the war. Should we be lessened because of that?" She finished the apple and left the room.
"Be sure to wear something appropriate to tea, it's in only two days." Her mother yelled after her.
Lucia sighed; she did not feel like being entertained by a family of scum. Nor did she enjoy the extravagant lifestyle of the family and the ridiculous decorations that plagued the estate. White peacocks were rare to begin with, but now the majority of their population is on the Malfoy estate.
Even less did she feel like enjoying Draco's company, who, in her opinion, was the lowest form of man and had yet to prove her wrong in her previous views of him. He was pompous and lofty in his view of himself and his family. Definitely not a man she intended to seek out for conversation since he had a very limited vocabulary and probably an even more limited range of opinions. She had presumed that his traits had stayed the same since the end of the war and that he had yet to improve on his previous status as a slag.
That night Lucia went to sleep with very much to think about. It never occurred to her that that day's two main occurrences probably had more to do with her than she ever imagined. But then again her imagination could never understand the plotting of a father keen to regain the wealth and respect of his family's name through the beneficial marriage of his son.
She was quite unaware of the grey eyed charmer having her likes and dislikes drilled into him like so many test questions in the past. Or the subtle smirk plastered across pale features as he imagined the power this combination would entail. Lucia was about to fall knee's deep into a puddle of mucky, smutty love, and she didn't even realize how much she had wanted that feeling. And how wonderful arms could feel around you when they don't want to let go.