Don't yell at me for writing another story with an overdone plot. I don't know how much I'll work on this because I plan to do it just as an experiment. Tell me what you guys think and I might try to rush a bit more.
Isadora Riddle lay under the covers of her bed in Malfoy Manor. The continuous knocking on her door did not cease. The door opened and footsteps followed. She groaned and rolled over taking in the scent of her own curly brown hair. She clutched the blue sheets tighter as the intruder spoke.
"Miss Riddle, your… g-grandfather wishes to s-see you," Lucius Malfoy stammered. She couldn't help but smile at the man's fear. Her grandfather's return left more people in panic than ever before. She, though hidden from anyone who isn't a death eater, was just as feared. One false move around her would send her grandfather's fury to the perpetrator.
"I want to sleep," she groaned. The blue curtains of her bed were wrenched apart letting in unwanted light. She kept her violently violet eyes tightly shut.
"Yes, b-but… the meeting is quite imp- ahem- important," he bowed low. The Malfoy's were kind enough to allow her to stay in the large mansion after her grandfather's decline in power. She, unlike Draco Malfoy, was forced to stay within the grounds instead of go to school. Then of course her grandfather rose again and now she is treated better than ever. She might as well be a princess.
"Leave my presence and I shall awaken. Tell my grandfather from me that I greatly need to curse something. I do not like to be woken up early," she ordered pompously, despite the grogginess she actually felt. She didn't actually want to curse something. She was just mad and wanted to scare Mr. Malfoy.
"Yes, my Lady," he bowed once more and backed out of the room knocking down a mirror as he did so. She sighed, threw the covers off herself, and righted the mirror. A blue eye flashed at her followed by a green one. This has been happening for a year and a half now, yet she had no control over when they would appear. They nearly cost her some trouble when Draco had spied them. He claimed it was Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore and threatened to tell her grandfather. Of course, he always is trying to get her in trouble. He despises her no doubt. Which is well, for she do not like him either.
Isadora went over to the wardrobe and yanked it open. She stared at the full-length mirror within. She felt that she looked terrible. Her curly hair stuck out all over the place and her eyes sported deep purple bags. Her pale and tall figure seemed more hunched because she was tired. She practiced straightening up for the meeting. Much better.
So, she quickly shed my pajamas and slid into a deep ocean blue dress that fanned out and reached her knees. She grabbed a black floor-length cloak and placed it over the dress and fastened the silver buckles.
She then proceeded to the vanity where she sat down and brushed out her mousy brown locks. Then, she pinned the waves to the back of her head before using a helpful charm she had learnt to get rid of bags from under one's eyes.
With a little too much force, she slammed the door behind me, so that it was audible from the living room. She reached the great wooden doors and opened them both before entering. A long table had been set up and every chair had been filled. Every chair except one.
Isadora sat in the empty chair between Bellatrix Lestrange and Draco Malfoy. She nodded good evening to her grandfather. This, however, did not seem to satisfy him.
"Isadora, how nice of you to join us. Our friend, Lucius, has told me you did not wish to get up so early," Lord Voldemort began.
"You do know, Isadora, that it is two in the afternoon," he laughed.
A shock look came over her face. She had not meant to sleep for so long. Regaining her composure she argued her defense, "I was tired," she mumbled and stifled a yawn, feeling it would be too much.
"Teenagers!" He laughed again and this time the other death eaters laughed. Except Draco. Voldemort seemed go soft. It was not love. No. Lord Voldemort was incapable of love. What he felt could have been a number of things: jealousy of her youth, fear of her wrath, or something much more dark or maybe even personal. It should be personal in the first place, but they did not talk much to each other.
"Are you like that Draco?" The Dark Lord turned to the boy whose mild smirk faded into a fearing grimace.
"I don't think so, My Lord," he muttered quietly.
"Just the women, then?" He laughed again, but ceased promptly, as did everyone else, "Well, now that you are here, we can begin. What news is there on the moving of Harry Potter?"
Here we go. Isadora groaned. She hated talking about the Potter boy. So here comes another boring meeting.
What did you think? It was just an experiment, so I might not be updating a lot. Unless you liked it..? Well, I guess this is it. Yeah, okay, bye, I'll shut up now, bye.