"Veronica. It's…you should wake up, dear."

She opened her eyes and saw the beautiful face of Narcissa Malfoy. After a long summer of nothing to do all day but sit in the house alone while the Malfoys ran their various errands, such as get Draco more new stuff, it was finally the first of September. The familiar feeling of mixed excitement, relief, and fear flooded through Veronica, but her expression did not change.

The day before, Aunt Cissa and Draco had gone to Diagon Alley for the usual school-shopping trip, and they had kindly picked up all of Veronica's required items.

Veronica sat up, more alert now, driven by the prospect of being on a train in the next three hours.

"Yeah, alright, I'm up."

In the middle of the floor was an open trunk, with a shirt, sweater vest and skirt hanging over the back. She had just a few things left to pack.

Narcissa smiled wanly. Veronica knew that look. She was gong to ask to have something done, something Veronica really didn't want to do.

"Could you wake up Draco when you're all dressed, please? I have some things to take care of before we go."

Veronica nodded after a second. Narcissa patted her arm and left without another word. Heaving a sign, Veronica slid out of bed and stood for a moment, gazing at herself in the mirror across from her bed. Her dark, heavy-lidded eyes squinted in the morning light that filtered in through the thin drapes. She ran her fingers through her thick, wavy black hair. It was going to be an eventful year, she could feel it.

After brushing her hair into a reasonable temperament and dressing, she made her way to the opposite end of the hall. Draco's door was ajar, and soft snoring landed vexingly on Veronica's ears.

She hated Draco. He was a spoiled, whiny little brat. He was constantly sneering, and only stopped when he was afraid of something. She thought fondly of a time in their third year when he had staggered into the common room with a bloody nose. He had been hit by, as his disgusting little friend Gregory Goyle had put it, "a filthy Mudblood girl." Veronica had asked which Mudblood it had been, and Draco had spat through his blubbering, "Hermione Granger!" Good for her, Veronica had thought.

Now she leaned against the door and chewed her nails for a moment, a habit Aunt Cissa hated. Veronica took a breath, then said, sharply and loudly,

"Draco!"

He started awake, and then his eyes focused on her.

"Wha…oh, it's you."

"Your mum sent me to wake you up, Princess."

Draco mumbled, "Shut up…you can't talk to me like that, I'm…"

"A prefect?" Veronica's eyes darted briefly to the shiny silver and green badge on Draco's bedside table. She was surprised he hadn't been snuggling with it. "Well, that's very special, but we have a train to catch, and the sooner I can be in a compartment far away from you, the better. Up."

And he did get up, though grudgingly. Veronica went back to her room and started putting the final things in her trunk. Her box of jewelry that her mother had owned before going to Azkaban went in first. She took out a silver ring with a deep green jewel set in the center and slipped it on her finger. Next she picked up the Hogsmeade permission slip recently signed by Uncle Lucius and tossed it in on top of everything. The last thing to go in was the picture on the dresser. Set in a simple silver frame with a cursive L on the top, it was a photograph of her parents. She gazed at the two of them smiling and waving at her from behind the glass, before tossing it on top of the rest and latching the trunk's lid.

Veronica had lived with the Malfoys since she was two years old when her mother and father had been sent to Azkaban. For a very long time she though she was Draco's sister, but then she noticed her conspicuous lack of platinum blonde hair. Upon her asking, Draco had been quickly sent out of the room and Veronica had been told by Narcissa and Lucius that she was not actually their daughter, but the daughter of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange. They had also told her not to worry, she was pureblood even though not of the exact descent she had thought, as Bellatrix was Aunt Cissa's sister. Being six years old at the time, Veronica didn't really understand why she should be worried about this. However, now, sitting down to a quick breakfast of eggs and bacon, she understood all too well the importance of blood status in her family.

A copy of this morning's Daily Prophet was laid out on the table. The headline read, "Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lies?"

Veronica scoffed. She knew for a fact that Potter wasn't lying when he said that the Dark Lord was back. She had seen her Uncle Lucius's left arm on a few occasions of late, and the skull and snake were darker than ever. She also knew from eavesdropping on her aunt and uncle's intense conversations that the Hufflepuff boy called Cedric Diggory was killed by the Dark Lord himself. There were quite a few tings that she'd learned about the Dark Arts and the people involved, especially her own extended family, after a bit of research. Once Veronica started at Hogwarts, it became clear that her parentage was not in anyway ordinary. Within her first month there she learned of the act that had landed her mother and father in Azkaban, which was torturing a couple called Longbottom to insanity. Veronica didn't know how she felt about having such people as parents.

As for Potter, though. Having gone to school with him for the last four years, Veronica didn't think he seemed like the lying type. Certainly not for the attention, at least. She was supposed to hate him, just like all the other Slytherins and everone with whom her family was associated, but couldn't quite bring herself to feel something as strong as hate for someone with whom she'd barely exchanged ten words. She thought he was cocky and basked in the glory of being in the right place at the right time, but she didn't hate him.

Draco wandered into the dining room and sat down. He eyed Veronica's untouched bacon and eggs.

"Are you going to eat that?"

Veronica shoved the plate at him roughly in response, not making eye contact. He gobbled it up like only an adolescent boy could. He took one look at the Prophet and put on his signature sneer.

"Who does Potter think he is?"

"He's telling the truth, Draco, you know it."

"Yeah, but he's just doing it for the publicity. I know Potter, this is just like him."

Veronica just rolled her eyes. And it's just like you, she thought, to make excuses to insult him, right?