The silence in the sitting room of Malfoy Manor was borderline deafening. The exception being the occasional rustle of a page turning in the latest issue of the Daily Prophet which Draco Malfoy sat behind. His wife of four years, Pansy, lay across from him, stretched out on one of their many couches, staring idly at the ceiling. Their two and a half year old daughter sat on the floor, looking at her father with utmost respect and wonder.
The grandfather clock in the corner of the room chimed seven. Lazily Pansy reached over to the nearby coffee table and rang her silver servants bell that, like nearly ever object in the house, hand the Malfoy family crest engraved onto it.
Precisely five minutes later three house elves came in, each carrying a serving platter. They set them down in front of their mistress and then backed out of the room bowing.
"Tea, Draco?" Pansy asked in a monotone. He nodded his head without even looking up. "Milk or sugar?" She continued, walking around the table so her back was too him. She didn't even need to be looking to know that he had said no. They had been going through a similar retinue every morning since their fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Today Draco surprised his wife by snapping at her.
"No Pansy, I do not want sugar or milk in my tea. I haven't wanted either since you started serving me, I am not going to start now." His voice was taut and he looked as though he was trying his best to control his temper while at the same time battling a vicious headache.
"It is in no way my fault if your work is not going well," she said, equally irritably.
"My work is none of your concern, you nosy little bit—"
"Not in front of Melhora!"
"Afraid she is going to repeat it are you?" He sneered. "Your daughter has yet to say a word."
"Our daughter. I didn't have her all by myself you know."
Melhora had looked up at the sound of her name and was now watching their increasingly heated argument with amusement. She picked up her toy wand and started banging it against the table.
"Disabilities are not accepted in the Malfoy family. She fails to even have a good reason for it. If she were deaf it could be credited to having to listen to you bitch and moan all the time. If she were blind it could be chalked up to having to see your ugly face everyday. But muteness? No, as long as she remains unspeaking she is not a part of my family."
"Are you disowning our daughter?" Pansy asked aghast. Draco slammed his newspaper down and stood up, his silver-grey eyes flashing with rage.
"She is not my daughter," He yelled, striding over to his wife and grabbing her roughly by the shoulders. He towered a good six inches over her and his grip was surprisingly strong. "I have no daughter to disown," he said furiously.
She opened her lips to protest, but was stopped short by a harsh blow to the left side of her face. Melhora immediately ceased her banging and stood looking in confusion at her parents. "I have no daughter," Draco repeated, his voice low, even, and dangerous.
Melhora sat down quickly and glanced back and forth between her bickering parents. Pansy was sniffling a little, and clutching her cheek. She tried to stay strong, but when her husband's stormy grey eyes meet hers she bowed her head and whimpered, like an obedient dog that knew it had done it's master wrong.
The little girl was rather unfazed by the sight of her mother being struck. After all, it wasn't the first time nor was it the last. What did bother her was what her father had said.
Choruses of 'I have no daughter' echoed through her platinum blonde head. They chased each other through her mind until she was drowning in them. She felt the familiar prickling in the back of her eyes that told her she was about to cry. With a quiet dignity she fought them back. He would never be proud of her if she cried, and that was all she ever really wanted, to make her father proud.
If she shut her eyes and concentrated really hard she thought she could remember the day she was born, or maybe she had just been told the story so many times before she could envision it happening.
When she was first born she cried only enough for the doctors to know she was alive and there was nothing wrong with her. She didn't move when the nurse pointed her wand at the newborn and whispered incantations to clean her off. Melhora had fed with the grace only Malfoy's seemed to possess and did not cry when it was time for her to stop, even if she was still hungry.
When Draco Malfoy had held his daughter in his arms for the first time he flashed one of his rare warm smiles. His eyes had shone with pride at his beautiful, silent daughter. The hair on her head was as pale as his and her eyes were the same metallic shade. He hugged her close and whispered, 'Welcome to the world Melhora Keira Malfoy, my beautiful daughter.'
The first couple weeks of her life Draco doted on Melhora terribly. Anything she wanted or needed at anytime was given to her, no questions asked. He held her when she got fussy and even fed her occasionally, because being a Malfoy, and therefore superior to the world, she started out on bottle-feeding the moment she got home from the hospital. Once or twice Draco even got up when she awoke in the middle of the night and stayed by her crib-side, singing to her until she dropped off again.
After that Draco's 'work' had gotten in the way of quality family time and he started to spend less and less time with her and by the time she was three months old she only saw him for two hours in the morning and an hour for dinner. That time together had slowly diminished and now, at the age of two and a half the hour from 6:30 to 7:30 in the morning was the only time he ever saw his daughter. Only she wasn't his daughter anymore, and she didn't understand why.
The little girl in her desperately wanted to crawl over and apologise to him, for whatever she had done and beg his forgiveness. But she knew he would not like that, he might even like her less for it, so she set her mind to other things while her parents continued arguing.
"I did nothing to deserve that!" Pansy yelled, apparently the sad puppy routine had not worked and she decided to settle on anger.
"You deserve it completely, you ungrateful, spoiled, bitch. You deserve that and more and you know it. The only reason you are even still here is because I-" his tirade was interrupted by Melhora's fierce tugging on his robes. "What do you want?" He asked abruptly.
She stood for a moment, her grey eyes wise and a look of pure determination etched on her face. In her right hand she clutched her toy wand and the left still held Draco's robes. She opened her mouth, as though to say something, but no sound came out. A flicker of dismal crossed her features before it was replaced by the look resolved look Draco knew often graces his own featured.
"Out with it all ready," he snapped, irritated that he had been stopped in the middle of putting his wife in her place. Slowly she pointed her wand at Pansy and looked her father square in the eyes.
"A-a-a," she started before shaking her head. Pansy squealed in excitement, this was the closest the little girl had ever come to speaking. Looking Draco in the eyes again the toddler made a last attempt. "Avada Kedavra?" She said slowly and clearly, her wand still fixed on the women who had given birth to her. Both her parents stared speechlessly at her, Pansy looked horrified.
Melhora watched her father's face carefully, smirking. A grin was breaking out on it.
"What did you say?" He asked softly.
"Avada Kedavra?" She repeated.
She knew he liked these words, Sometimes, when she had not seen him for a really long time and she missed him more than usual, she would stand outside his office, just to listen to his voice. He said those two words a lot. Especially to people he was mad at. She thought he might like her again if she used his favourite words.
Draco let out an undignified whoop and picked her up, whirling around and around. "Did you hear that Pans?" He called over his shoulder. "She spoke! She said 'Avada Kedavra'!" Melhora shrieked in childish joy and laughed loudly.
"Yes," his wife replied faintly. "I heard her."
Draco slowed his spinning and hugged their daughter close. "Avada Kedavra?" She asked again, her wand immediately focusing on Pansy.
"Not today, my lovely daughter," he said with a mock sigh. "Maybe some other time." She was his daughter again. Melhora smiled, wider than she ever smiled before and snuggled deeper into his arms repeating 'Avada Kedavra' over and over.