Let the Darkness Become You

Chapter One

My family's genealogy runs far back into the time of Merlin, our bloodlines pure and ancient. Parkinson was a name drawn from noble lineage, and one that remained untainted through the centuries. A name that has forever been blessed with a wealth and a prestige that left most of the wizarding world in awe or fear of us. While our reputation nowhere neared that of the Malfoys, we were respected. Not only for our money, but for the social status of supremacy that my parents had acquired over the years.

I was born into this life of prestige on a late summer evening in June, second daughter to Victor Parkinson and his young wife Penelope. At the time, they were the current heirs to the Parkinson Estate, which sat on the fringes of Hastings, on the south coast. It was not a happy event, my birth, for my parents had been trying for a son and heir, since their first child had been female. Unfortunately for myself, I turned out to be female also, instantly cursing me as the "disappointment."

It was a title that would curse me. The only person I never could please was myself. It would be many years before the harsh lessons of life would teach me to appreciate who I was.

However, I was well cared for as a child. I even have the gleeful memories of taking rides with Father upon one of his expensive Aethonans, and having tea with Mother and my aunts. As I grew, my position and relationship with my parent's would change. Little did I know that this change would be one of the largest obstacles I would ever overcome.

"No, Pansy," Mother said firmly, before turning back to her conversation with the nervous seamstress.

I made a face behind her back, but stopped my whining. At seven I had learned that when Mother or Father said no, there would be no more heard about it. I turned to look towards the dress once again, ignoring my sister's haughty glance as she joined in the conversation. At eleven Zella was considered old enough to pick out her own dresses, with Mother's approval, of course.

Unfortunately, I had to wear whatever Mother decreed appropriate for the ball. I stole another glance at the dress before me, my eyes sweeping over the beautiful, elaborately embroidered red fabric and mentally tracing the graceful folds. I was too small to wear it, but I had wanted a smaller one made for me as Zella was getting done. Instead I would be forced to wear the plain but expensive black dress my mother had chosen for me. Appearance was always a must in my family, and the more expensive the better.

I glared at the dress that was currently being held by one of our maids, Linda. The girl grinned in amusement at my resentment and I glared at her too. I hated being laughed at.

"Stop making those faces, child!" Mother snapped. She had turned while I was still glaring at Linda, and had her hands on her hips.

"I swear," she continued, handing the rest of her purchases to the maid, "what am I going to do with you? Young ladies shouldn't make themselves look so conspicuous in public!"

I ducked my head shamefully, face heating as Zella laughed. Mother sighed from above me, muttering under her breath as she propelled my sister and me out of the door, Linda bustling behind us.

"Mother?" Zella asked. "Can I have an owl for school?"

"We'll see," she replied absently, eyeing the dense crowd with obvious disgust.

I tried to mirror her expression, knowing what was souring her mood. Parkinsons never mixed with ordinary wizards, and Diagon Alley was filled with them as parents prepared to send their children off to school in two weeks.

I saw a lot of people Zella's age dodging through the crowds and peering into windows. My sister obviously did too, because her expression turned to one of longing. I smirked to myself. Mother would never allow her to run around like everyone else.

Our mother sighed. "Linda," she beckoned.

She was there in an instant. All of our servants had been trained to perfection. Those who messed up tended to disappear. I didn't know where they went.

"Bring those home," Mother directed, "then return for Zella's supplies. Don't worry about the expense, but tell them to send us an outline of the costs. I will be at Miranda's, going over the guest list."

The maid nodded, moving into the flow of the crowd immediately. "But Mother!" Zella protested. "I wanted to-"

She cut off her sentence as Mother raised a brow; that was all that was needed. Zella bowed her head sullenly. "Thank you for arranging for my things," she replied meekly.

Mother didn't see the scowl on her daughter's face as she patted her cheek triumphantly, thoughts already turned elsewhere. But I did, and I never forgot it.

"I hate black," I muttered with loathing as Linda slipped the garment over my head, muffling my statement.

Zella sighed. She was sitting at her vanity table, dragging a brush through her dark brown curls.

"You know you can't do anything about it," she informed me, piling her hair on top of her head and examining the effect. "Mother wouldn't allow you to wear anything else."

Looking at my reflection in the full length mirror, I twisted my face in distaste, causing my nose to flatten noticeably. Zella walked up behind me, her eyes, glinting in amusement, only serving to sour my mood. Seven I might be, but I knew when I looked ridiculous.

The black of the dress made me look like some sort of porcelain doll, with pale skin and a childlike face. My black curls were tamed into a simple bow, and even my blue eyes stared out at myself like those from a doll, glazed and lifeless. I shivered.

Zella looked beautiful, however, the gold of the dress setting off her tanned skin and adding highlights to her brown curls. Her hair remained piled on her head, revealing a long neck and aristocratic face. Her eyes glinted out at me, as blue as my own. They were the Parkinson eyes, as my Father often chuckled to himself. It was the only feature Zella had inherited from him.

My mood dimmed - standing next to Zella, I felt like an awkward shadow. I was still too much a girl who wanted to grow up faster than she could, whereas Zella was a girl entering the exciting stages of adolescence. I envied her.

Apparently I wasn't the only one who had noticed the changes that were permeating my sister. Father raised his brows in silent approval as Mother smirked, showing her pleasure in her eldest daughter. I stayed back as they entered the ballroom, watching as inevitable events unfolded, wheeling my sister away.

Custom among my family said that Zella was nearing an age for betrothal. Tradition would have had her bonded to another since birth, but thankfully the new ideas of this century had already broken into our household, saving both my sister and me from an early engagement.

I stayed away from the festivities of the ball, as I knew I must. A seven year old only got in the way and annoyed those of more mature ages, as my parents saw it. Zella, however, danced with many young men and chatted with girls I didn't know.

Where had Zella suddenly met all these people? There was one person in particular that caught my eye. He was tall and dark, I really didn't have anything to compare him with, to say that he was handsome, but I knew that Zella thought so. She spent most of the night at his side, blushing under his firm gaze. I didn't like him.

"Neil Lestrange," a voice behind me said, causing me to jump in surprise.

Swirling around, shocked to have been caught, I found myself staring at a boy around my age. He stared at me unabashedly, taking in the hideous black dress as he smirked. His short blonde hair was perfectly combed and his dress robes, which were also black, were immaculate.

"What?" I asked him.

"That's Neil Lestrange," he informed me, pointing to the boy that Zella was currently dancing with… again.

"Oh," I replied dumbly, still surprised to see someone my own age there. "How do you know?"

"I know everyone," he replied smugly, although he couldn't possibly have proven that. "Besides, he's a cousin of one of my father's associates."

I nodded, that sounded more accurate. The boy was looking at my dress again. I frowned- he was a rather rude person. You would have thought that anyone our age would have better manners by now, especially if you grew up in one of our families.

He obviously thought the same since he scowled when I turned my back on him rudely, to watch my sister with possessive eyes. I really didn't like that boy… what was his name again? Neil?

A voice cleared its throat behind me. I sighed, turning to look at him. "Yes?" I asked.

He wasn't smirking anymore, but seemed angry. "You didn't introduce yourself."

I stared at him causing his frown to deepen across his young face. "You were supposed to introduce yourself," he insisted.

"You came over here first," I pointed out, turning away again.

He grabbed my arm angrily to thwart me from doing so. "What do you want?" I hissed in frustration.

"A name." He was annoyingly determined, gray eyes intent on me.

I glared at him. "Will you go away if I give it to you?"

He shrugged.

"Pansy," I snapped at him. "Pansy Parkinson."

The boy nodded, apparently satisfied. I scowled when he didn't return the favor. "And you are?"

He grinned at me, reading my irritation. "Draco Malfoy," he replied.

Later that night I added Draco Malfoy to my list of people I did not like. He was second only to Neil Lestrange.