Lamia cradled her bleeding cheek in her small, pale hands. Her breathing was unsteady as she slowly and carefully cleaned the cut that marked her porcelain skin. The cut stung against the lukewarm washcloth and as the warm water made contact and combined with the blood, red lines streaked down the curve of her face and swirled down the basin sink.
When the bleeding finally stopped, Lamia was careful to clean up the mess she had carelessly made, and checking her reflection with a sigh, left the bathroom and walked down the hall, mindful not to make any noise.
The second floor hallway was long and full of drafts. Blood red carpet ran along the hardwood floors, and several rooms, many empty, were locked behind closed doors. Her father's office lay directly in front of her at the end of the passage way, he brothers room to her left.
Immediately to her right was a steep, wide staircase that led into the opulent foyer, and it was this path that she took as she hurried out the door.
As Lamia left the confines of the manors iron gates and turned left down a path that led her to a road, she felt a weight lifting from within her chest. When she was at home there was always a constant pressure chocking her and reminding her to be ever cautious not to make a mistake. But sometimes she would slip up, like she had today, and make a mistake that would result in the shouting of incantations, wands flying, or simply the sting of a slap and the loud noise made from skin connecting with skin.
The street Lamia now walked down was growing darker as the summer sun started to set beyond the horizon. The air was still warm, heating her frozen skin and causing her to break out in a thin sheath of sweat. Lamia was, despite the warmth she abhorred, content to walk the cobbled streets of the small town in Wiltshire that led her away from the house that caused her nightmares.
Near the outskirts of the town sat a secluded playground consisting of a small swing set and nearby slide. The slides once bright green paint had faded to the colour of dying grass, and the yellow merry-go-round from her memories had been removed. Lamia walked over to a rickety and rusted swing and slowly rocked back and forth to keep herself occupied from her the day's dark thoughts.
As she sat there rocking into the darkness her mind wondered like always to Hogwarts. Hogwarts was her home, the beautiful castle in Scotland where she had spent the last five years somewhat peacefully with her brother Draco and their three best friends Crabbe, Goyle and Polsh. The peace was only interrupted by short stints at the manor over the Christmas break and when the school year had finished.
Lamia loved Hogwarts; it was the only place where she felt accepted. At the manor she was alone, worthless and unloved. But at Hogwarts she was powerful, a pure blooded witch and one of the best in her year. Teachers loved her, and her peers feared her. She was the quidditch captain and Slytherin's best beater. At school she was royalty, but until the year commenced in a few more days, Lamia was still her father's unwanted and unmarked daughter.
Growing up in the manor she had come to hate had always been hard for her as the only daughter. Her domineering father forced her to clean amongst the house elf Dobby (up until their second year when the wretched Potter had freed him, leaving her to spend twice as long slaving away). But worst of all was how Lucius Malfoy treated her.
She was beaten daily by the man, kicked, slapped, punched, pinched, and had spells of all sorts flying at her hourly. And every time, no matter how black or blue her skin was or how broken her bones were he would fix them so that the next day he could begin all over again.
Draco however, was the apple of her father's eye. From a young age he had been told to hate Lamia but he never had. They were best friends, and told each other almost everything.
He was the reason she had anything to eat some nights, and the only reason she stopped cutting her wrists when she could feel that she had gone far enough. Without him, Lamia simply wouldn't be.
Although she shared almost everything with him, Lamia had one dark secret that she had kept to herself for the past two years.
Ever since her fourth year at Hogwarts, Lamia had felt a growing connection to her mysterious and strict potions master. Severus Snape was one of her father's few friends, and possibly the only people outside of the manors walls to guess at the treatment she was subjected to.
Unlike with her father, however, Snape had always been somewhat kind to Lamia. He kept an eye on her, and only recently a bit inappropriately, and had for some time now been a mentor to the young girl.
In class Lamia would find herself watching him too closely, her heart rate accelerating when his smooth slow voice spoke directly to her.
She would find any excuse to see him after hours, either with a potions question or to inform him of a wrong doing committed by another student. In the great hall she could sometimes feel him watching her, causing Lamia to shiver beneath his gaze. Nothing, yet, had happened between them, apart from the occasional brush between them in the hallways.
Caught in her musings, Lamia did not hear the crunching of the bark beneath a stranger's foot until she was gently tapped on the shoulder. Startled, Lamia jumped up and pivoted on the spot, pointing her wand directly at the man's throat.
The darkness that hung between them obscured most of the man's features except through the light omitted by a nearby street lamp, Lamia could recognise the tall frame of Draco and his slicked back blonde hair.
Lowering the wand and stepping back slightly, Lamia raised an eyebrow quizzically at her brother.
"I should have known you would be here" Draco sighed, running a pale hand through his hair. His voice was strained as it often was when he returned to the manor, forced to deal with the stress of his father's abusive relationship with Lamia. "It always was your favourite place to hide as a kid" he finished, finally looking his sister in the eye.
Lamia took her time to respond, both happy and sad that Draco had found her. "How long where you looking?" Lamia asked quietly, Draco only shrugging in response. Lamia took a deep breath before continuing, "I'm sorry for leaving, but you know how it is, when father gets in those moods I can't exactly stick around".
Draco, wanting to avoid the cut on Lamia's face, continued to stare beyond her. "I know" he sighed, "I just wish it wasn't like this, but we will be back at Hogwarts in a couple of days and away from this place".
The thought brought a smile to Lamia's face and she replied happily, "we will be back with Crabbe and Goyle, with feasts every night and Polsh to help make Harry's life a living hell"
Draco chuckled, and grabbed his sister's hand. "Well until then, we better get back before father notices you're gone; I don't think he will believe that you've been cleaning the bathroom all this time".
With a reluctant sigh, Lamia followed her brother, and her last unmarked hours dreaming of a professor and a future they could never share.