Snow was very confused. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, groaning from sleepiness. Glancing around the room, she found she had no idea where she was. She didn't recognize a thing; not the large bed, which was twice the size of her own, nor the enormous mahogany dresser, and certainly not the fireplace on the opposite wall. She shrank back into the bed. Snow hated strange places.
She studied the room in more detail, trying to see if she recognized where she was. There was fancy furniture everywhere, covered in gold filigree, a mirror covered in the same golden pattern and even a sofa and two armchairs on the other side of the room. There was a roaring fire in the stone fireplace. Everything, even the drapes on the bay window on the adjacent wall, looked like they cost as much as her entire house.
Looking down to make sure she was still herself, she found that she was in a king-sized bed covered in green silk sheets. She was clad in pajamas that matched the sheets. She ran her hand over the smooth covers and found that her pale hand was covered in scratches and bruises.
What happened to me? she thought. Where am I? And WHY?
As she touched her hand to her face to see if it was in the same condition as her hand, a memory suddenly hit her like a brick.
"Mom! No, no, MOM!" she screamed, shaking her mother furiously. But it was no use; she was as limp as a rag. Blood streamed from her mother's chest and she cradled the woman in her arms.
Behind her, her father held a plank of wood, trying to beat off the man dressed in black, who was trying to get at her father. But he had no chance against the man. In a flash, accompanied by a deafening bang, her father's body crumpled next to her mother's. She screamed and cried while the man ransacked the house, taking jewelry, money and silverware. He finally set fire to the house before escaping himself. The last thing Snow knew was intense heat and the lurid smell of burning flesh.
Gasping, Snow returned from her memory. She clutched the mattress with her fists, which now seemed to burn with the scorching flames that had surrounded her that day. That day…she wondered how long ago that was. And how had she gotten here? Why hadn't she died in the fire? How had she gotten out of the tower of flame that was her house?
These questions were pushed out of her mind as the door to her left creaked open and in walked a tiny creature with large ears and enormous blue eyes. Snow screamed and backed quickly to the other side of the bed.
"Trinky is not here to hurt Miss, Miss. Master is wanting Trinky to see if Miss Snow is being all right," said the odd creature in a high, squeaky voice.
It knew her name. How did it know her name? And what in the hell was it? "What are you?" Snow asked hesitantly, wanting some answers to the unasked questions bouncing around in her head. She simply couldn't hold them all in.
"Trinky is a house-elf, Miss."
"House-elf?" Snow asked. She had to be dreaming. She just had to be. Things like elves didn't exist…and house-elves weren't in any fairy tale she'd ever heard. "What exactly is a house-elf?"
"We are slaves to a witch or wizard, destined to serve their family until we die," explained the creature that was named Trinky.
"Witches and wizards…" Snow asked, extremely confused, and growing scared.
"Master is wanting Trinky to bring Miss downstairs to meet him," said the little elf. It stepped closer to Snow, who wasn't afraid of it anymore. "Miss Snow follow Trinky," it said, and turned around to head out the door.
More out of curiosity than anything else, Snow crept out of the gigantic bed and followed the elf. As soon as she stepped off the mattress, she felt a draft and found that her pajamas weren't as thick as she would like them to be. There was a clean, white bathrobe lying across a high-backed chair that sat next to the bed. She picked it up and put it on, welcoming the warmth it brought.
She wrapped the soft robe tightly around her as she followed the elf out the door and into the hallway. Snow was immediately intimidated by the enormity just this single corridor. It was at least eight feet high, rather wide, and richly carpeted. The carpet under her bare feet was very comfortable and she glanced at the portraits on the walls as she walked through the house.
It was absolutely impossible to memorize the twists and turns they took, but Snow didn't have her mind on memorizing her way back to the room she had been in at the moment; her mind was more on sorting out the new things she had learned in the last ten minutes. She still had at least a hundred questions, the first being who was she meeting?
Snow recalled that her parents had said things of witches and wizards to her when she had been a young girl, but she didn't remember anything of house-elves. But wizards weren't real, magic wasn't real, none of this was real. It couldn't be, because that would mean that her parents were dead.
Dead.
The word loomed in front of her, heavy and overpowering. Dead. Her parents were dead. Anna and Martin Garvin were dead. Killed at the hands of a burglar. But why? Why did they die? Why didn't Snow? Why was she here? Was any of this real?
Trying to blink back tears, Snow trailed Trinky until they came to a room with a long wooden table that could easily seat three dozen people. There were two long metal buffet tables on either side of the room and a series of crystal chandeliers hung above her head. She spotted three people sitting at the far end of the table. In awe, she was lead to that side of the table.
All three of the people were blonde. There was a man with long, bleach-blonde hair and cold gray eyes, dressed in all black; next to him sat a young man who looked almost the same as the man, though his eyes were softer and his hair was shorter. On the other side of the man there was a woman. Her hair was a more yellow blonde and she had blue eyes. She was wearing a silver, flowing robe and appeared to be pregnant. She smiled at Snow as the girl sat down.
The blonde man dismissed the elf. Snow looked at the boy out of the corner of her eye and saw that he was staring at her, looking at what he could see of her body. She was too overwhelmed to be embarrassed.
"Snow, I'm Lucius Malfoy," said the man, and Snow noticed that he had a British accent. "This is my son Draco and my wife, Narcissa. You are in the Malfoy Manor and have been for the past two weeks, ever since your house was set on fire, though you've been asleep for those weeks." His voice was soothing, but there was an underlying maliciousness to it, which frightened Snow.
"How did I get here?" Snow asked. She realized she was probably being a little disrespectful. At the moment she didn't care about this; she wanted definite answers to questions that were threatening to spill out of her mouth.
"You saved yourself from the flames long enough for me to come and save you from the fire," answered Lucius.
"I saved myself…?" said Snow. "But I was unconscious."
"Did Martin really keep it from her for nearly seventeen years?" Narcissa asked her husband softly.
"You're a witch, Snow, or were you not aware?" Lucius told her, ignoring Narcissa.
"Pardon?" said Snow, convinced she wasn't hearing correctly.
"You're a witch. You can do magic," Lucius repeated.
"No I can't," Snow said. She wouldn't—she couldn't—believe him.
"You are," said Lucius, and Snow could tell he was getting impatient with her. "Your mother was a witch and your father was a wizard. They chose to ignore their calling, however, and betrayed their Lord. That is why they were killed."
"They were killed? By whom?" Snow asked, leaning forward in her high-backed chair so she didn't miss a word. She thought it was just a random burglary.
"The Dark Lord has many followers and he sent one of them to kill the betrayers, who were your parents. I had nothing to do with it, of course; if I had known about it I would have stopped it. Martin and I were good friends in school and I would never want him killed," Lucius explained. Even though Snow had many questions about this, she kept her mouth shut. She got the feeling that Lucius didn't like this. However, she still wanted to know more about being a witch and why she was here.
"Thank you for keeping me for the last two weeks, sir," Snow said. "But, I was just wondering, why exactly I'm here."
"In your parents' will, they gave me custody of you," said Lucius plainly.
But I've never even met you, Snow wanted to say, but she held her tongue.
"You will be living here with my family and I until you are eighteen and can live on your own," continued Lucius. "Your bedroom will be the room you are have been sleeping in for the past fortnight. You will be going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with Draco come September, where your parents should have been sending you for the past six years. I have gotten books for you so you can study this summer to catch up with your class. You may go in any room in this house you like, except for the library. You will not be around me when I have my colleagues over. Do I make myself understood?"
"Yes," replied Snow. She was somewhat taken aback at his sudden hard voice. She wasn't quite sure that she understood anything he was actually saying. She knew, however, that this was not a good man to cross. She added for good measure, "Thank you so much, Mr. Malfoy, for doing all of this for me. I don't know where I'd be if you didn't have such a kind heart.
Lucius made a disbelieving sound, and Snow wondered if she'd gone too far in her compliment. If he really had a kind heart, he would have explained all of her questions and had time to talk to her.
"Now if you'll excuse me, I've got rather important business to attend to. I hope you enjoy living here," Lucius said, suddenly polite. He pushed back his impressive chair, stood up, and strode swiftly from the dining room, his pitch-black robes billowing dramatically behind him.
Narcissa gave Snow a weak smile. "Yes, welcome to the Malfoy Manor, Snow. I do hope you like it here. Please excuse Lucius; he's been under so much stress lately… he's not usually this rude or overbearing. Excuse me; I need to lie down for a while. Draco, do give her a tour." And with that, Narcissa was gone too, supporting her pregnant stomach with her hands as she tottered away.
Snow was left with Draco, who shook his blonde head and put his feet up on the table unceremoniously. "Don't listen to my mother. Lucius is always rude and overbearing, among other things. My mother just wants to believe that he loves her." There was a silence, and Snow got the feeling that Draco wasn't going to leave like his parents had.
He looked her in the face. Snow noticed that his eyes were more of a liquid-silver than the stony gray that Lucius's were. His skin appeared flawless and his lips were drawn into a smirk. "It's hard to take in, isn't it?" he said.
She had to look away. She hadn't really had much time to think about what had happened to her parents, but now that Draco had asked her about it…Snow felt tears spring to her eyes. She blinked furiously, trying to force them away, but one rolled solidly down her ivory cheek. She bowed her head, letting her curly auburn locks cover her face. She didn't like letting people see her cry. She didn't like people seeing her vulnerability. And now she was more vulnerable than before.
"Don't worry, I'll keep you safe," said Draco, though it sounded more like a threat than a promise.
Vulnerable:
She had no parents. She'd just found out that she was a witch, and she didn't even know what that meant. She was stuck living in a house with people she'd never met before. The man of the house was mean, nasty and evil, the woman was a hopeless optimist and the son was so sure of himself and unafraid.
Her eighteenth birthday never seemed so far away.