Part 4: Lessons in Life

The weeks went by, and in the absence of continual strife, I found myself enjoying life at Hogwarts. Everything was new and interesting to me. I did not care for the other students, or they for me, and I spent my time either studying, reading, or going for walks on the grounds. The only person my age I liked was Draco.

We did not spend much time together at first. I was too immersed in my classes, and he . . . well . . . honestly I don't know what he was doing but he disappeared for hours at a time. It was not my business to ask what he was doing; therefore I kept my curiosity to myself. I do believe that was one of the things that drew him to me, for I noticed many others . . . Pansy included, even though they were not together . . . bothered him with questions rather often.

I also noticed he acted differently to me than he did to others.

He acted as if school was nothing to him when around others, treated them with a varied degree of contempt depending on their ancestry or intelligence, and never showed anyone any kind of common courtesy. When he was with me, we had interesting conversations about many different things, things like class lessons, what hex/jinx worked better than another, some small fact either he or I found in a book, or even discussing spells he or I were thinking of inventing. Draco was, in fact, very intelligent and retained vast amounts of information. I never asked him why he thought it necessary to act as if he wasn't. I thought it was rather stupid of him not to show up Hermione Granger in class, especially since he hated her so, and it would have made her mad.

Draco never treated me with the slightest bit of scorn. He was always kind and respectful towards me . . . opening doors and pulling out chairs like a well-bred gentleman. I was surprised that he didn't show his good breeding to anyone else . . . in my opinion it was beneath the dignity of a pureblood to act any other way . . . and he was rather coarse mannered to everyone, even those in Slytherin.

One day during the last week before Christmas holidays, I overheard several people talking about me and Draco. I was going to keep on walking until I heard a female voice say "But he only treats her that way because of her uncle and aunt, doesn't he? I mean, she is their only heir, and the Romanov's have tons more gold than the Malfoy's do." My face grew red with shame. "That's true," another girl said. "He's really buttering it up to her too. Pulling out her chair, holding doors open, passing her the best dishes at meals . . . it's beyond ridiculous!" The group around them burst into laughter.

"She's just as bad," a boy said sneeringly. "Staring at him like he's some kind of god." "She looks as if she expects that treatment from everyone," the first girl said. "Acting like she's some kind of queen. Doesn't even speak to anyone! Walks around with her nose in the air, and those weird eyes not looking at anyone, just Draco and her precious books! It's pathetic!" "I don't even see why she's so proud," the boy cut in. "She's nothing but a pureblood orphan. If she even is pureblood. I know her aunt and uncle are . . . does anyone know who her parents actually were? And its not as if she's even pretty. That gray skin, those red eyes . . . she looks really freaky."

I couldn't hear another word. I turned and ran away, down the hall into the bathroom. I locked myself in a stall and stuffed my robes into my mouth to stifle my sobs. The things they said really hurt me. Not the part about my acting like a queen . . . personally, I didn't care what anyone thought of me, I wasn't at Hogwarts to make friends but to get an education. No . . . the part that stung most cruelly was what they had said about Draco. Could it possibly be true that he only befriended me because of the wealth I would inherit? Did he honestly think he was going to end up marrying me?

I didn't understand why the thought of Draco not liking me for me hurt so badly. I was hurt . . . hurt and ashamed. I, the daughter of Lord Voldemort himself, was crying in a smelly bathroom stall because some insignificant little flobberworms hurt my feelings. The thought made me sob even harder.

I forced myself to be calm and think upon what I had heard in a rational manner. I could not understand why I felt the way I did about Draco, but I could at least try to figure out if he was really doing what they had said he was doing. I tried to recall one instance where Draco might have seemed romantically inclined . . . but could find none. And surely, I didn't stare at him! Definitely not as if he was a god!

I sighed and came out of the stall, splashed water on my face, and went to my next class.

That night, I sat straight up in my bed in the middle of the night. Do I really look freaky? Am I really that ugly? The thought tortured me until I lay back down and forced myself to go back to sleep.

I avoided Draco for the rest of the week. I found that even though I was angry with him, I did miss him very much. He didn't seem to notice that anything was the matter until we were on the Hogwarts Express heading home for the Christmas holidays.

I found a compartment to myself and pulled out my book, Occlumency and Ligilimency for the Advanced Witch or Wizard, intending to get several chapters in before we arrived at the station. I had only read a few paragraphs when Draco walked in.

"Hey, Cyn," he said, smiling. "What are you reading?" I stared at him, not wanting to believe what I had heard . . . wanting to believe he truly liked me. But I just couldn't. "If you don't mind," I said coldly, "I would like to be alone." Draco's smile disappeared. "What's the matter?" he asked slowly. "Nothing," I answered. "I just want to read, thank you." "Have I offended you?" he asked, frowning. "I would like to be alone," I repeated. "And . . . I would thank you not to speak to me again."

Draco swallowed. I was horrified to see him stare at me with such pain in his eyes, such confusion. He nodded and left without another word. In that second, I knew I had been wrong. Those people I had heard were wrong.

I ran to the door and looked out, but he was already gone. And I could not bring myself to look for him and apologize.

I had lost him . . . forever. And it was through my own doing.

The thought was devastating.

I went back into my compartment and looked out the window so no one could see my tears.

Several hours later, I came out of my compartment and met Uncle and Aunt at the platform. They were so excited to see me, they argued over who would kiss me first. I admit, their happiness at seeing me really cheered me up. I must have seemed a bit down, though, because Aunt shot me a searching, curious look that I knew meant she would come see what the matter was when I had settled in back at home.

I loved being back at home! The first thing I did . . . not wanting to talk to Aunt just then . . . was to have a long, leisurely fly around the grounds. Then I went up to my room and had a nice, hot bath, and asked for my dinner in my room. I had just finished when Aunt came in.

"Darling, what is the matter?" she asked softly, sitting across from me as I sat at my little table. I sighed. "I . . . I don't understand people, Aunt Calista," I began, and then told her the whole story. She listened intently, and then gave me a brief smile. "This is the reason why your Father wished you to attend Hogwarts, my little one," Aunt said. "You are right; you don't understand people at all. I blame myself . . . and your Uncle Theo, for not sending you to school earlier, or at least selecting suitable playmates for you." She reached out and patted my hand.

"Cynthia, my dear, women . . . especially teenagers . . . can be cruel. They can be at their worst when they are jealous of another girl. You are very pretty, darling . . . you do look unusual, I admit . . . but not at all ugly or freakish! You must learn that whenever anyone . . . girls in particular . . . doesn't like someone, for whatever reason, they will talk about them. And not in kind ways. People are jealous of those who are more beautiful, more intelligent, more confident . . . anything more than they are." Aunt paused and scrutinized me. "Cynthia, do you understand why you are so upset about what happened with Draco Malfoy?" I shook my head. "That's just it, Aunt, I don't understand at all! Why should I care so much about what anyone thinks of me?"

"Because you are only human, my dear," Aunt said soberly. "As august as your bloodline is, you still have feelings, darling. And that is as it should be. Even your Father has feelings. Look how strong his feelings are for you! Do you think he would care about you so much if he did what you are trying to do, and harden his heart against everything?" I was stunned. "I hadn't thought about that," I whispered. She smiled at me. "Now tell me, darling, about young Mr. Malfoy. You mentioned he was your only friend. Why do you like him so?"

I smiled back and went into detail about things Draco and I had talked about, the way he treated me, the way he smiled, looked, thought, and laughed. I went on and on, not noticing the grin on Aunt's face grow bigger and bigger.

When I finally finished, Aunt burst into rare laughter. "It seems to me," she said slyly, "that you feel more for Draco than friendship." Her face sobered as she thought of the consequences of this development. I was shocked. "I don't love him!" I cried. "I love Father, and you and Uncle . . . but certainly not Draco. Well, maybe just as a companion!" She smiled sadly and stood up. "I don't know, Cynthia, exactly how you feel. But what I do know is, if you throw away something that made you happy simply because you feel too proud to apologize . . . then maybe you didn't deserve the happiness in the first place."

With that, she kissed my cheek and left.

I thought about what she said for days afterward. But then I forgot completely about Draco . . . for Father and Aunt Bella were to visit me on Christmas Eve.

They Apparated into our garden, where I was waiting, and I ran into Father's arms and kissed him repeatedly. He held me tightly for a few moments, and then held me at arm's length to look me over. "I see you have grown, daughter," he said with a hint of a smile. "You look beautiful." With those words, what I had heard at Hogwarts ceased to bother me. "Thank you, Father," I said, hugging him again, and then turned my attention to Aunt Bella.

"Cynthia, I've missed you," Aunt Bella told me smilingly. I hugged her tightly and kissed her cheek. "You are looking healthier," I said, bringing her smile into a full grin. "Yes," she said, "and I feel myself at long last." I smiled at this and led them into the Great Hall. After Uncle and Aunt greeted them, we went in for dinner. Father, as usual, ate sparingly, but the rest of us ate like gluttons. The house-elves had been pressed by Aunt to make a truly glorious Christmas dinner. Afterward, we sat in the parlor in front of a warm fire . . . me at Father's knee while everyone else sat in comfortable green armchairs.

Father questioned me about Hogwarts, and I answered as truthfully as possible without revealing the incident where I had hid in the bathroom. He actually laughed when I told him what I had done to Pansy, and told me he wished he could have seen her face. The Parkinson's, he told me, were the sort of family who didn't want to actually join the Death Eaters, but who wanted to share in their triumphs as if they had fought themselves. "Stay away from people like that, Cynthia," he ordered sternly. "In fact, make friends with only those who are from Death Eater families. Families like the Avery's, the Nott's, the Crabbe's, the Goyle's, the Zabini's, the Macnair's, and the Malfoy's."

I smiled at the last name and something in my look made Aunt Bella glance searchingly at me. I noticed her look and suddenly it came to me.

"Father," I said, "would you mind very much if I had Draco Malfoy over for the last days of the holiday?" He stared down at me for a few moments, and I could tell he was thinking hard. Aunt Bella and Aunt Calista glanced at each other, and I saw them exchange a knowing look. Aunt Calista even gave Aunt Bella a small nod, raising her eyebrows as she did so as if she was answering an unasked question.

"Why do you want him to come visit you, Cynthia?" Father asked me, a strange look on his face. "Because he is my friend, Father, and I want to get to know him better," I replied, wondering what the look meant. I thought maybe it was because Draco was Lucius' son, and Father was extremely displeased with Lucius. Father looked down at me with the look still on his face, now seeming to be arguing with himself in his thoughts. "Please, Father?" I asked, pouting slightly.

He sighed. "If it will please you, Cynthia, then he may come." I smiled and hugged him. "Thank you, Father," I said happily. "But . . ." Father began, and then looked over at Aunt and Uncle. "I would like to speak with Cynthia alone," he said. They got up and left immediately, as did Aunt Bella.

Father got up and stood before the fire, a strict look on his face.

"Cynthia, I want to tell you about Draco." I sat up straighter, wondering what he could possibly say. "Cynthia, as you know, Draco's father committed a great crime against me by not returning with the Prophecy, and getting some of my best Death Eaters captured." I nodded. "I know, Father, but . . ." He held up a hand, silencing me. "I have done something . . . to punish Lucius . . . that involves Draco." My brow furrowed in confusion, but I waited for him to continue. "My daughter, I have made Draco a Death Eater and given him the task of killing Dumbledore."

I gaped at him. "You . . . what?" "You heard what I said," he continued, fingering the ring I had given him. "Draco is a Death Eater. Because of all his family has done for my cause, Cynthia . . . excluding Lucius' stupidity, of course . . . I have no problem with you being Draco's friend. However, Cynthia, I order you to stay out of the task I have given him. You are not to help or assist him in any way. Is this clear, daughter?" I nodded, still dumbfounded by what he said. "Does . . . Aunt Bella know?" I asked. "Yes," he answered. "But I have not yet informed the Romanov's." I nodded. "All right, Father," I said. "I promise you I will not help Draco. Am I allowed to let him know that I know?"

Father shook his head. "No. He is under orders not to tell a soul. I wish to see if he will break those orders." "And if he tells me?" I asked timidly. Father looked at me coldly. "Then he will be punished. And that is the end of our discussion."