To think I might not see those eyes,

Makes it so hard not to cry,

And as we say our long goodbye,

I nearly do.

Snow Patrol, Run

The next few days seemed to pass with a blur. Whenever she looked back, all she could recall was an rooted feeling of nausea and anxiety that never shifted. It was there when she went to sleep, it was there when she dreamt about nothing, and it was always there when she woke up.

Time used to go slowly. The days before a school holiday would crawl by, the minutes before home time would last an age. But now… now she couldn't describe it. Because she wanted time to go as slowly as possible, it had sped up, all the more potent for the growing fear and coldness in the roof of her mouth.

Paul would be going back to Hogwarts tomorrow. It had been a three days. But they had slowly disintegrated. And she seemed to be the only one that cared.

Sero, though she could hardly blame him, was oblivious to the change. She hadn't even been bothered to do anything with him. Narcissa was quite happy to spend her time cooing over him while her house elf did any dirty work. Amelia and Paul however had to keep themselves amused.

There wasn't a great deal for them to do. Narcissa had introduced them to her son and he and Paul spent day outside talking about Quiddich and boy stuff. Amelia just watched on, feeling jealous and making daisy chains. Quiddich wasn't her favourite past time so while they shared turns on the boy's broom, she chased garden gnomes around until one of them bit her. Whatever his name was, that boy told her rather arrogantly that it served her right for annoying them. Paul could do nothing more than rub it better. His wand was still banned.

But at least after that Paul wasn't as friendly to this boy any more.

That was yesterday and today Draco (or whatever his name was) was off visiting relatives. As was his mother. So she and Paul were laboured with their little brother. Well, Amelia was left mainly to look after him. Even so, Paul noticed Sero had become more worrisome and clingy.

Amelia didn't mind looking after him really. Paul was continually shooting him dark looks while she played peek-a-boo from behind the sofa. At least one of them could still laugh.

But Paul, he had changed too. He no longer shut himself up in his room – not that he had one – and there was barely a minute in the day where he wasn't by her side… except for yesterday but even then he wouldn't let her out of his sight.

All to soon, the evening had arrived and Narcissa had returned, popping her head into their room, asking if they were hungry or if they wanted anything. She was the only one to bother. Amelia had seen Lucius once in her time here and he had never asked her if she wanted anything to eat.

How could she be hungry now?

Paul shook his head as well but mentioned that it was time for Sero's tea.

Soon Sero had gone in a series of fusses and cries of delight when he opened his eyes. Paul was looking pretty spiteful by the time they had left. But all of that had cleared by the time he asked her if she was sure she wasn't hungry.

"I'm fine," she answered truthfully. Correct, she wasn't hungry at all but her insides where shifting at an increasing pace. She continued drawing. Not that she was especially good at it. All she really drew were cats and horses. Paul joined her.

"Want to play a game? You can be crosses if you want."

Surprised, she smiled, gave him the pen and happily watched him draw a grid and begin.

Out of eleven games she managed to win nine, a personal best against Paul, but she had a feeling that her elder brother was letting her win. After a few more games they had covered several sheets of parchment, back and front, and they were only left with one. She had feeling neither of them had the heart to go down the corridor to ask Draco if he had any spare.

She certainly wouldn't. He was such a spoilt little brat and her finger still hurt a lot, no thanks to him…

Regardless, she started to draw the framework onto the latest piece of parchment.

"Wait," Paul stopped her quietly, placing a hand on her arm. "Could you draw me a picture?"

It had been a different three days and compared to other things he had said this was practically normal. A picture she could handle, but comforting a crying brother (either one) was quite beyond her.

"Yeah, of course. What do you want?"

Paul shrugged, standing up. "Whatever you want, I don't mind."

With that, he picked up his toothbrush and pyjamas and headed for the bathroom.

Amelia scowled at his retreating figure.

The wave of nausea seemed to subside.

Paul stared at himself in the mirror, splashing his face. All he could see were the bags under his eyes and the blank look on his face.

Scary. It had only taken three days.

What chance would Amelia stand? Sero seemed to be sorted – Narcissa had practically adopted him. Why did that sound strange? It was supposed to happen to all of them. Amelia had watched Narcissa take Sero with big eyes. Her loyalty made him feel worse.

He already felt weak after less than a week in the Malfoy's manor. And he had only seen Lucius occasionally at mealtimes.

His stomach twisted into a tighter knot. He was going to be sick.

What had happened to his life? Less than a week ago he was an ordinary, pureblood teenager. Not at half of that made a difference now. He had never thought of himself especially privileged because of his blood or money but he had thought up as many defences against Lucius as possible.

Again, not that any of it had been much good. He only thanked his lucky stars he was still attending Hogwarts; otherwise he would have joined his father and mother by now. After he finished school still remained a wanted mystery.

But what about what little of his family had remained? Amelia and Sero were powerless against fully trained, dark wizards, they had relied on him and he had seriously let them down. He had replayed images and scenarios of the last few days, seeing if he could change of it for the better. None – except one opportunity that remained in his head, gnawing away at his heart.

When they had first received the owl about his mother's death; the news that they would shortly be going into the custody of Mrs Malfoy and that they should pack everything of use. That was the time when they could have gone. What had stopped him in that ten minute period of freedom to grab some Floo powder and get the hell out of there?

Something told him that he'd never know. The same thing told him he'd regret it for however long he lived.

There was a loud and abrupt series of bangs on the door.

"Come on!" Lucius yelled gruffly, "You'll miss the train!"

Lucius' plan of Paul returning early had gone pear shaped – there had only been three days until the term resumed so he graciously allowed him to stay for a while longer. Through the door of the toilet he heard a peel of laughter. Amelia's laughter.

Paul glanced down at the piece of paper in his hands. Amelia had drawn an angel for him. It made a change from the usual fuzzy animals and butterflies she drew. Somehow it was slightly disturbing. The angel had no face or halo. She had said it was their mother.

Hastily, after another shout from Lucius, Paul folded it up roughly and shoved it into an inside pocket. How Amelia knew that their mother was dead was beyond him. No one had said anything. He had always presumed that she already knew. But now she had said it so explicitly, he didn't know what to do.

"What the hell are you doing in there?"

"Just washing my hands!"

He turned the tap on and splashed his hands for good measure. Not that he'd done anything. He'd come in the small toilet to escape for a short while – if only forty seconds – to sort the turmoil in his head out. And to try and get rid of the sickness swirling in front of his eyes.

Wiping his damp hands on his trousers hurriedly, he emerged from the tiny bathroom.

"You took your sweet time." the senior Malfoy sneered, somewhere to the left of him.

Paul presently ignored him. He was too distracted with what his sister was doing. He'd found out where the giggling had come from – her and Riddle were having a tickling competition. It was disgusting – how old was he? Maybe he was just being paranoid… but one day she would grow up.

But his fears evaporated as she squeezed out of her new friend's grip and ran over to Paul, slipping her hand into his. She was still small for her age; all she needed to do was hold onto his fourth and little finger. Riddle looked slightly sour but Paul ignored him and smiled down at his little sister.

"Touching," someone commented dryly.

"Right then, let's get this over with."

Lucius passed Riddle the pot of Floo powder. "You're next, Master Nix."

"I've only travelled by Floo twice," Amelia whispered, tugging on his hand, "What will I do if I get lost?"

Paul glanced up at Lucius, who, thankfully, was busy talking to Riddle about something.

"Then run."

Lucius had taken him to the side, away from the crowds at the station, presumably to reinforce his instructions of 'not a word to the old coot otherwise you'll be greeting your siblings bit by bit' talk he'd held yesterday. But it was nothing to do with that.

Nothing was said for a few moments.

"Yes, Mr Malfoy?"

Seriously, if he wasn't going to saying anything, he might as well go back to Amelia right now. In fact he would…

Lucius caught his arm. "Alot more cocky now you're reunited with your wand." Lucius commented, more to himself than anyone. Paul shrugged. He was hardly going to do anything in a public area, was he?

"Well," he continued, "If I can't get you, I'm sure your younger sister will be around."

Merlin, his hatred for this man increased every time he opened his big mouth.

"You'll do nothing to Amelia," he hissed vehemently, sounding far more confident than he felt taking a step forward. "Nothing."

Lucius looked down at him (though there was hardly a huge height difference) and smirked.

"Don't worry," he soothed in possibly the most suave tones Paul had heard come out of the man's mouth ever – quite an achievement. "I won't lay a finger on her."

Ah yes, Lucius seemed to have extra loathing stored up for Amelia. Paul had no idea why. That was the most worrying thing.

But why was Lucius smirking like that? Paul looked over to his sister.

Riddle was looking after her, crouching down to her level, pointing to something on her chest then flicking her nose playfully as she looked down. Amelia laughed though Paul couldn't hear her through the noisy crowds. He played that same game with her. Any second Riddle would make a Chocolate Frog appear from behind her ear.

"Don't let that… man near my sister or… or…"

He couldn't get the words out of his mouth. Which made Lucius' sneer grow, which made him all the more infuriated. Though they were hardly going to be threatening from a, at best, lanky thirteen year old. It wasn't like he was going to do him any serious damage – he was only in his second year for Merlin's sake. Hardly lethal.

His point had been made though. It didn't matter it he was armed with nothing more harmless than a grape, someone was going to get hurt if they so much as laid a finger on Amelia…

Lucius tutted dramatically.

"Sharper than a serpent's tooth," he sighed enigmatically, "Is a boy's ingratitude." Paul frowned. Puzzles and rhymes were not what his mood needed. But Lucius persisted, now almost musing aloud. "Still, the proudest spirit can be broken, with love."

At this point, Paul really did walk off. He wasn't talking about him. And Lucius had

Fecking Malfoy's. Like he knew what love was. He had had seen Lucius' son, he had spoken to him – the boy idolised that man.

And not in a good way. Paul never remembered his father much.

He was nine when he had died – Amelia was five – but even when Mr Nix was alive, he was always away on business. Sure Paul supposed he loved him at one point but did he worship him, wanting to do whatever pleased him?

No. He especially would not if Lucius was his father. The only little beacon of hope he could think of involving Draco was that one-day he would grow up and figure out what a bastard his father was.

For the moment, he drew the conclusion that all Malfoy's were mad. Narcissa was a good example – having his mother as a friend among other things.

Without warning, he picked Amelia up and she squealed with pleasure. He held her close. Never before had he felt so worried about going to school. His first year was nothing compared to this. This was the same sort of fear only worse; he knew that nothing that he did could affect his sister and her new life.

His sister's arms were around his neck.

"Don't worry," she said innocently, "Tom said he'll take me shopping for some new clothes and toy's. I'll be fine!"

Instead of blowing up like he expected himself to, there was a slow, deflating feeling in his chest. He smiled kindly at his sister. Did she need to know all the troubles that were circling above her?

Sooner or later she would know, but he just wanted her to have as longer childhood as possible. It probably would only last a few months more. Maybe even a few years. Then he would leave Hogwarts.

Then she would grow up.

"Cool," he replied, watching Riddle's smirk shrink with no small amount of satisfaction. If he wanted to see him blow up, he'd have to wait a while. "Buy something nice," and as an afterthought whispered as he put her down, "And expensive."

She giggled and before another word could be said, there was a hand on his shoulder and a sharp piercing whistle.

The train was leaving.

He gave her a brief kiss and one last hug and ran off to the scarlet train, begging his tears to stay inside. At least until they had left the station.

It was in one great swathe of steam and smoke that the train, and her brother, disappeared from her sight. Paul had kept his head stuck out of the window even after the vapour had shrouded his head. She was still squinting, minutes after she has glimpsed the last compartment slip around the corner.

Goodbye.

Her gaze was broken for her. Someone placed their hands on her shoulders and turned her around.

It wasn't Tom. Lucius smiled down at her.

Thank goodness she hadn't been crying.

Run.

Paul had warned her not to trust anyone here – especially Lucius and Tom – and in no uncertain terms told her that Lucius seemed to have some agenda to sort out. He didn't say what exactly but all it did was puzzle Amelia. Fair enough hating her family, but why her in particular?

It was bad enough that he made her nervous by just his presence.

Run.

"Don't get lost," he ordered, then as an after thought, "And don't you dare try and slink off."

Run.

Amelia subconsciously started to chew her nails. "Where's Tom?"

Lucius' lip was curled as he scanned the platform of departing parents and families. Last year she was one of them. Lucius didn't seem to have heard her. She repeated her question.

"I'm not sure."

"So we're not going shopping then?"

Lucius was distracted now, so distracted that he even dared to hold her wrist as he walked through the crowds. There was no chance of disappearing either. He had a hard, steely grip on her wrist and she was half dragged through the platform.

Suddenly he had stopped and pulled her to his side. She squirmed out of his grip.

"Not with my money your not," he snapped, making her shrink away. She bit her lip, blinking back her tears. Lucius noticed. "Not so brave without your brother, are you?"

She didn't know what he was talking about. She had never been brave in the first place.

Then she saw him grit his teeth impatiently. Good! She was glad he was in a bad mood. Hopefully, all his teeth would fall out…

Lucius started to drag her across the platform, towards the fireplace in the stationmaster's house and she was reminded why exactly she didn't have any confidence.