Disclaimer Thingy: I don't own Harry Potter or any characters related to the series. They belong to the lovely J.K. Rowling, who is a goddess for creating them. I own Amytheria, who is a creation of my demented mind. :3
Full Summary: She was the child of a deranged psychopath, born of a loveless marriage arranged only to satisfy the need to keep the blood of her family pure. Raised in a household where Dark Magic was a common as air, Amytheria was trained to serve the Dark Lord as her mother wished. Now, as she enters her 4th year in school, events beyond her control have thrown her together with the most unlikely wizard imaginable. As unwanted feelings develop and childhood beliefs are changed, can Amytheria make the choice to think for herself, or will she follow in her mother's footsteps?
Chapter 1: Of Quidditch, Dark Marks, and Cherries
Nauseous. That was the only word she could use to describe what she was feeling at the moment. She was incredibly nauseous. Being up this high always upset her stomach; that's why she'd never done well when she had been learning to fly on a broom. Her eyes were squeezed closed as she stood behind her uncle and cousin, silently urging them to continue on to their seats in the Minister's box. When they had stopped to boast to the traitorous Weasley's, she fought the urge to cling to the back of her uncle's robes. Fear was a sign of weakness, something that was not permitted in their family, and something she refused to let Lucius Malfoy see on her. As she listened half-heartedly to the conversation, Amytheria swallowed nervously before forcing her eyes open. Spots floated briefly in her vision as her eyes adjusted to the bright lights in the stadium, and after a moment, she realized that the odd noise she'd heard a moment before had been her uncle catching Potter's hand with the head of his cane. Rolling her eyes, she glanced at the others who were privy to the conversation, a look of disdain on her face.
To her surprise, one face watched her adamantly, studying her. She shivered, not sure of the boy's name, only noting that he was a Weasley, and therefore, not worth her time. Glancing back at her uncle, she realized that he and Draco were walking away from her, the conversation having ended, and she darted after them, only to pause, one hand over her mouth as she fought her nausea once more. The boy who'd been watching her gave her a sympathetic smile, then followed his own group, leaving Amytheria to wonder what the intent behind his gaze had been.
After the match, Amytheria and Draco had quietly followed Lucius, along with some of the elder's acquaintances, into a large tent near the stadium. From the look Lucius threw at the pair, it was evident that the two teens were to stay out of the way and remain quiet, Deciding that the pumpkin juice was far more interesting than anything else in the tent, Amytheria busied herself pouring a glass, her stomach far more settled now than it had been before. Ignoring the polite greetings and fake smiles, she walked outside, looking around at all the parties that were going on in the other camps. Some part of her wanted to join them, but the part of her that had been protecting her for years squashed the urge as quickly as it had come. She focused on that part of herself, sneering as she watched the raucous down the hill. It was obvious to her that the lower class thought celebrating the Cup should involve ridiculous amounts of liquor, a thought that made her grimace. Turning to head back into the tent, she'd barely stepped inside when she heard the screams.
Witches and wizards stormed passed her in a rush, stampeding like animals as they ran from something she herself had yet to see. As the crowd pushed at her, she caught sight of bleach blonde hair amongst the masses, and dashed towards it, catching her cousin by the arm.
"Bloody hell!" he screamed, wand at the ready before he realized it was her. "Dammit, Amytheria! Where the bloody hell have you been? Father's been looking for you! We have to go." Draco grabbed her arm and began to drag her along, ignoring her struggles.
"Draco! Draco, let me go! What's going on, Draco? What's everyone panicking for?" Amytheria gasped out as they ran, the raven-haired girl out of breath. Draco continued on his path through the crowd, ignoring his cousin's cries until she could take it no more. Pulling free from his grasp, she bolted away from him, furious.
"Dammit, Draco, enough! What's happening?" she screamed at him, trying to keep the edge of panic from her voice. Draco stopped in his tracks, turning to look at his cousin, one blonde eyebrow raised. "Are you really that dumb? Did you forget what Father told us before we left the house?"
Amytheria paused, tilting her head to the side and pressing a finger against her lip. "Oh, you mean that little reunion he had planned? I thought that was happening later," she answered as though it was nothing. Draco nodded, and grabbed her wrist again.
"Yes, that one. Now shut your gob and keep up. We have to pretend we're as terrified as the Mudbloods," he hissed in her ear. She rolled her eyes, allowing herself to be dragged along.
"I know, I know. Just like Auntie Cissy taught us, right?" Sighing, she threw on a mask of fear, even though inside she was bored and annoyed. Draco nodded, weaving through the crowd.
As they grew closer to where their destination, Amytheria tripped over some unseen object and fell, hitting the ground hard. She cried out, pain shooting through her limbs as she struggled to stand back up, only to be kicked and knocked about by others who fled with no regard for anyone but themselves. She winced as she tasted blood, and attempted to stand once more before someone stronger than herself pulled her up. Disoriented and bruised, the Slytherin struggled to comprehend what was going on, but the pain in her head proved too much, and she closed her eyes, falling back once more. Before she could hit the ground though, Amytheria felt herself being lifted up into the air and held against someone's chest. She knew she should fight it, or at least question it, but darkness took her before she could speak.
The sharp stinging pain on her cheek, combined with the dull throb of her head woke her, and Amytheria began thrashing about, arms flailing.
"Woah, woah there, easy does it, cherry! Stop thrashing, or you're gonna hurt yourself even more, yeah?"
She felt hands on her arms, holding them down to keep her from hurting anyone, and in a jolt of fear, she began screaming.
"Bugger, George, just shut her up, yeah? Or at least let her go. 's not like we need to worry about her. She's Malfoy's cousin, remember?" Amytheria heard the male speak, but she couldn't see him, and the voice wasn't familiar. Whoever it was, they knew her, or at least, of her, and that made them enemies. She started thrashing again, until she felt the hold on her grow tighter.
"Look, cherry, you're bleeding. I'm not going to let you go, so you might as well stop kicking. And stop screaming, would you? Or do you want the Death Eaters on us?" The Slytherin recognized this voice as being the same as the one who'd first spoken, and quite possibly belonging to the person who held her. Breathing heavily, she stopped screaming and laid still, waiting. "There, that's better. Now, I'm gonna wipe the blood from your face, ok? It'll sting. That's a nasty cut. But don't move. Your arm's a bit messed up too."
Amytheria listened silently before she began to nod, much to her quick displeasure. Her head still throbbed, and nodding only made it worse. She whimpered, then flinched a moment when she felt a damp cloth brushing across her forehead.
"Episkey," the male mumbled, his wand pointed at the wound. It instantly felt better, and the ache in the Slytherin's head subsided. Opening her eyes, she finally had a look at the people who were talking to her. Gasping, she shoved the red-head away from her, scrambling back.
"Don't touch me, you filthy blood traitor!" she shouted angrily, fumbling in her pockets for her wand.
"Didn't I tell you George? Can't even help one of them without some fancy curses, can we?" Amytheria glanced up, realizing that it hadn't been just one, but two of the Weasley's. The twins were looking at her, one kneeling where she'd been only moment before, the other standing behind him a few feet. Behind him stood another red head, but Amytheria couldn't make out which one. Looking back at the one who'd been holding her, she realized he'd been the one to give her the sympathetic look before.
"You don't have to worry, cherry," George said softly, standing up and brushing himself off. He held a hand out to her, and she hesitated, a mix of disgust and fear on her face. He didn't flinch, didn't move until she stood on her own, wrapping her arms protectively around herself. "No one's gonna harm you. How's your head?"
Reaching up to touch her forehead where the cut was only moments before, the raven-haired girl brushed her fingers tentatively against the skin, then looked back at the red head. "'s fine," she mumbled, before remembering the situation before her. Looking around, she realized she was in the middle of field that overlooked the camp site and in the distance, she could see the stadium. Turning back to George, she bit her lip. "Where are we?" she asked, trying to bury some of her fear inside of herself.
Fred, who'd been watching his brother and the Slytherin for a time, turned to the girl behind him, revealing her to Amytheria as the youngest Weasley. The pair exchanged words quietly, then Fred turned back to his twin. "George, Ginny and I are heading closer to the Portkey. Don't stay long, Da's expecting us there."
George nodded, keeping his gaze on the 4th year in front of him. As Fred and Ginny walked away, he spoke. "Not far from the stadium. We were running back here and saw you get knocked out. Fred told me to leave you, but I couldn't. I snagged you up and we ran here. Had to stop to treat your wounds though. You were bleeding everywhere." He held the front of his sweater out, and Amytheria could see the dark patch on the right shoulder, where she imagined her head must've been resting. She bit her lip, taking a few steps forward before remembering herself.
"You shouldn't wear it then, with the blood. Especially since it's not your own." The words came out before she could think about them, and she mentally scolded herself. Why would you say such a stupid thing? You shouldn't care what he does. Shut it.
The red head chuckled, then shrugged. "Doesn't bother me. Mum can clean it when we get back home, and I can tell her the whole story behind it. She'll get a kick out of it." George's grin effected Amytheria for some reason, and she let a quiet giggle slip out. "Oh good, you do have a sense of humor, cherry. Thought you might be a humorless git like your cousin."
Her head tilted to the side as she looked at the Gryffindor, bewildered. "Why are you calling me cherry?" she asked, eyebrow raised.
George coughed, looking away as he tried to hide a blush. "Oh, um…well, ya see…" he trailed off a moment, then glanced back at the younger girl. "Your lips are the color of black cherries. And since I didn't know your name, well…"
Amytheria's eyes widened, and she looked away, trying not to blush. "Amytheria. My name is Amytheria." Tucking her hair behind her ear, she was about to speak again when she noticed raised voices and hurried footsteps coming towards them. Instinctively, she pulled her wand out, at the ready, while George stepped toward her, coming between her and whoever was approaching.
"Bloody stupid of you three…almost got yourselves stupefied! If I hadn't shown up…honestly, can't believe they thought you three conjured that bloody thing…" As the voices neared them, the Slytherin watched the red-head relax and tuck his wand away, grinning. Over the hill came four figures, all easily recognizable once they were close enough. Amytheria sneered when she saw Harry, Ron and Hermione, and her wall went back up, locking all the emotions she'd shown to George back inside. The last figure, who she identified as Weasley's father, started to scold the trio again before he realized that they weren't alone.
"George, I thought I told you and Fred to take Ginny back to the Portkey with you!" Arthur shouted, face going red. George nodded, rolling his eyes. "Fred's got Ginny, Da," he reassured his father, glancing back at the witch behind him with a smile.
"If Ginny's with your brother, then who in Merlin's name is behind you?" The head of the Weasley house strode forward, looking at the girl who was guarded by his son. Amytheria glared up at him, arms crossed. "Well! Malfoy's niece! What's going on here, son?"
With a hiss, the Slytherin stepped away from the group, teeth bared. "What happened is your son decided to be 'helpful', and dragged me here. Now, however, I'd like to be rid of you people. Since I can't apparate myself, I'd like it very much if you'd summon my uncle here. Now." Eyes narrowed, she watched the group, focusing on George a moment with a gaze that left no questions about how she felt about what had happened.
Ron looked at his brother, eyes wide. "Are you mad?" he whispered. "You should've left her where she was, George. Death Eaters don't harm their own." Hermione and Harry nodded their agreement, the trio cautiously eying Amytheria, who glared back at them.
"She was unconscious, Ron, about to be trampled. I couldn't well leave her! Slytherin or not, Death Eater or not, she doesn't deserve to die when she hasn't done a thing wrong." George didn't bother to look at Ron; instead, he was focused entirely on the girl he'd rescued, attempting to figure her out.
The students jumped when Arthur cleared his throat, and all looked at him. "George, Ron, Harry, Hermione, head to the Portkey. I'll apparate back home after I get Miss Lestrange reunited with her family." Hermione nodded, then dragged Harry and Ron in the direction of the Portkey. George hesitated, eyes on Amytheria, then followed after the others, keeping his thoughts to himself.
Looking up at the wizard before her, the young witch raised an eyebrow. "Well? How long does it take to summon my uncle? Hurry up," she ordered, looking away from him as though she was disgusted. As she watched George leave, Amytheria felt a pain of guilt, but she shoved that emotion back down as she'd been taught.
"Hey George, who's blood is on your sweater?" Ron's voice faded as they walked away, but they stayed with the Slytherin, who barely paid any attention to Arthur as he tried to tell her how they were going to get her home.
George paused, looking down at his sweater, then shrugged, continuing toward their destination. "Oh, it's nothing really. Just came from a cherry." He looked back at the girl he'd rescued, grinning. "Think I'll keep an eye it though. Probably best."
Oh, Merlin, I think I'm falling for him, Amytheria thought as she watched him walk away. I'm so screwed.
A/N: R&R loved. I'm going to work on this story as often as I can, but I'm also working on WIMR (my Zim fic) and TaC (my Buffy fic) so my creativity is getting split into chunks. It's also being split because of the graphics I make, and the rp sites I'm on. So, again, I'll update whenever I can. Until then, if you'd like to read some other really good HP fics, go check on RAWRSteffanie's stories. She's my best friend, and she got me involved with writing HP fics. Her stories are really good, and all of her work is exceptional.
So, I leave you here with Amyth and her mental confusion.
As always, with my insanity intact,
~Skitz