A blizzard struck Hogwarts during the night after the disaster of a Dueling Club, blanketing the grounds with so much snow that Professor Sprout canceled the last Herbology lesson in favor of fitting socks and scarves on the Mandrakes.

And then a Hufflepuff boy was attacked, along with the Gryffindor ghost. Boy-Wonder Potter was found at the scene of the crime and the Hufflepuffs were making a huge fuss over the attack and the rumor that Potter was the heir of Slytherin, which was entirely untrue, because Lysandra had run through the Potter line in both her head and one of the Ancestry books in the library, and he wasn't related to Salazar Slytherin at all.

In all actuality, the Malfoys and Potters were distant cousins through the Blacks, which she hadn't known until she'd traced back to Dorea Potter nee Black.

Despite the panic about the attack, Lysandra was curiously calm about impending Christmas Holiday. Draco had made a big fuss about staying at Hogwarts that year, but Lysandra had been sent a letter shortly after the attack informing her that she was to return to the Manor.

It was no surprise that after arriving on the platform in London, only her mother was to be seen. Narcissa smiled gently down at her only daughter and took her hand to Apparate them back to the Manor.

Dobby greeted them at the door with bandaged fingers and a large smile, offering cookies and hot cocoa in Narcissa's rarely used study. The Malfoy matriarch smiled serenely and ushered her daughter up the stairs for the snacks.

Narcissa perched herself elegantly on the edge of a plush cream chaise and gestured for her daughter to take a seat in on the love seat across from it. Lysandra sank into the rich fabric, relaxing into the cushions, and breathing in the smell of her mother's perfume.

"Your father is on a short business trip at the moment," Her mother said, delicately picking up one of the pretty cookies that appeared on the coffee table before them. "So it will be just us for a couple of days. I was a bit surprised that your brother wanted to stay at the school with what's happening, but all the more time to spend with you. How are your classes going, dear?"

"They're excellent, Mother." Lysandra smiled, perfectly content for the first time in several days. "My grades are still the highest in the year, and if everything turns out like I hope they will, Professor McGonagall said that I might be able to move up a year."

"Yes, I remember that letter from the beginning of summer!" The blonde woman leaned forward eagerly, excitement for her daughter shining through her blue eyes. "I'm very proud of you, darling! I knew someone while I was in Hogwarts that skipped a year; she was a wonderfully smart young woman!"

"Have I ever met her, Mother?" Lysandra asked, curious about this unnamed woman. Narcissa shook her head, dusting her fingertips off on a napkin.

"No, you haven't. She was a Ravenclaw, so I did not know her well, but she was kind when I did speak with her. She died when you were very young after she'd had her daughter."

"How sad." Lysandra sighed, frowning.

"It was, but I hear the family is doing fine." Narcissa nodded and then she flourished her wand. "Now, would you like to play a game of Exploding Snap?"

"You play Exploding Snap?" The black-haired girl nearly cried, immense surprise painted across her face.

"I was quite the player when it came out." Her mother nearly grinned, revealing a battered looking box of cards in her hands.

"Well, all right then!"

Lucius Malfoy did not know his only daughter had returned for the holidays until Christmas Eve when he was passing his wife's study and heard a muffled explosion and laughter from inside. With a perfectly raised eyebrow, the Malfoy patriarch pushed open the door and immediately scowled at the scene before him.

His black-haired disgrace of a daughter was seated on the couch with a baffled look on her face and the end of her long braid smoking slightly, her eyes wide as she stared at her mother's equally baffled expression, which was partially hidden beneath a thin layer of soot. The two Malfoy women stared a moment longer and then burst into loud laughter, practically keeling over with amusement on their faces.

A deck of slightly smoking cards lay on the soot-stained coffee table, and a half-finished plate of Christmas cookies sat to the side.

"What," Lucius snarled, bringing the good mood to a dead halt and causing his wife and daughter to stare at him in shock. "Exactly is that doing in my house!?"

"Darling," Narcissa stood from the chaise and lifted her hands to placate him, but she went silent at a deadly glare from him.

"Father, I-"

"Be quiet!" He snapped, taking several large steps forward to snatch her arm up and practically drag her over the couch. Lysandra yelped as her ribs dragged over the ornate back and she crashed to the ground. "I will not have Gryffindor filth in my house!"

"Lucius!" Narcissa gasped, making to move towards her daughter. Lucius flicked his wand at his wife, and she went still, worry and fear rising in her lovely blue eyes. Lucius turned sharply on his heel and pulled his daughter out of Narcissa's study, not stopping to let the girl regain her feet enough to walk properly. He continued to haul the girl through the mansion and down the grand stairs, barely glancing back when he heard a sharp yelp, to exit through the door. Dobby poked his head out from around the lounge entrance way and quickly hid himself away, nervously watching as the young miss was thrown out the front door and followed by the Master.

His sight was abruptly cut off when the front doors slammed shut with a resounding thud.

Lysandra on the other hand immediately started shivering, tears welling in her eyes as her father took several steps into the drive and then turned on the spot to Apparate them somewhere. They arrived at their destination with a crack, and she barely had time to regain her senses when she was thrust away from the Malfoy patriarch and onto the ground.

Another crack signified that her father, the wonderful man that he was, had left her in a dirty snowbank Merlin-knows-where in only a short-sleeve pale blue Christmas dress decorated with silver snowflakes and a pair of thin cotton socks.

Lysandra pushed herself up from the snow, her fingers already turning numb from the cold, and let her eyes flick across her surroundings. There were several looming shops, all closed for the holidays but decorated with tinsel and various greenery. Houses peeked from around them, all lit from within and cheerfully glowing in the darkness.

The Gryffindor wrapped her arms around herself and took several steps in one direction, looking back and forth up what was obviously the main street of wherever she was. Her grey eyes landed on the brightly colored sign of one of the stores, and she stared at the shop for several moments before it registered.

Her father had dropped her in Hogsmeade.

Having never been herself, Lysandra had no idea where she was supposed to go to get back to the castle, and the darkness did not reveal where Hogwarts was supposed to be. Just beyond Honeydukes, which was the shop with the colorful sign, a large building with candles placed in all the windows caught her attention.

She took several tentative steps toward the building, and it was soon revealed that the brightly lit building was called The Three Broomsticks, which she'd heard often mentioned by the third-years and above on the weekends. Her feet sank suddenly into a puddle made of slush, and the icy feeling that coated her feet reminded her that her ankle had smashed against the top stair of the Manor and something had gone wrong because her ankle flared with pain.

The Gryffindor hissed and pulled her feet from the slushy puddle. She staggered several steps, arms still wrapped around her small body, and stumbled towards the door. Her legs very nearly gave out at the door, and she caught herself on the wall before she fell, her eyes staring at the blood that had dripped down to her elbow without registering it. Her frozen fingers crept to her bicep, and when she pulled them away, Lysandra stared at them in surprise.

The door to the brightly lit building swung open, letting a laughing couple exit as they held onto each other. Lysandra watched them leave and slid through the door before it closed.

The tavern wasn't busy, but it had several groups of people in it, loudly chatting to one another and laughing often. The place was filled with a cheerful atmosphere that quickly brought Lysandra's attention to her disheveled state. The raven was quick to limp her way to the front of the bar, hauling herself onto a barstool at the end to avoid the adults who frequented the place.

What was wrong with her father? She knew he hadn't ever planned to have a daughter, and therefore wasn't his favorite child, which was fine because she was a mama's girl anyway. But she had hoped that her House wouldn't matter to him, because she was still a pureblooded Malfoy and she was far more academically inclined than her twin, and she hadn't tried to interact with the Muggleborn and half-bloods that graced her House too much.

But that was the problem, wasn't it? It had all started when she'd been Sorted at Hogwarts and hadn't been a Slytherin. A Ravenclaw would have been an annoyance, but at least partially acceptable. Being a Gryffindor was like declaring she didn't support any of her family's heritage. It was like being declared a bloodtraitor.

She didn't understand her father's intense dislike for her, yet at the same time, completely understood it.

"What are you doing in here!? You're a bit underage to be sitting in a bar on Christmas Eve." The barista asked, hovering in front of Lysandra and ripping her from her thoughts. The raven looked up quickly, paling at the sudden attention and then the barista's eyes traveled over her body. "Where's your- Is that blood? Good gracious!"

The woman hurried around the bar, her hand pulling her wand from the black apron around her waist as she watched Lysandra with concern. Her wand hovered over the bleeding gash on the raven's bicep while the barista murmured a healing spell over and over until the bleeding stopped and the gash closed.

"Where did you come from?"

"Wiltshire," Lysandra replied quietly. The barista pushed several strands of her greying hair behind her ear as she observed the way the young girl sat. "My father…"

"Did he do this to you?" She asked quietly, leaning forward with worry in her hazel eyes.

"Rosemerta!" Someone called from the corner of the bar, waving an empty tankard in the air.

"You've had enough!" Rosemerta, the barista, called back, hovering over Lysandra. She continued to mutter spells over the girl, who was shivering now and flexing her fingers and toes at the uncomfortable feeling that was coming from them. "Dear, did your father do this to you? What's your name?"

"Splinched," Lysandra replied. "My name is Lysandra."

"Is he alright?" Rosemerta asked, shifting her weight.

"I don't know. He dropped me here and left."

Rosemerta stared at the young girl in the blue dress for several long minutes and then transfigured a nearby bar rag into a big fuzzy sweater that smelled faintly of warm butterbeer and wrapped it around the shivering girl.

"And on Christmas Eve, you poor thing." The barmaid cooed, tucking the large sweater up around Lysandra's chin. Her wand twitched down to the girl's soaked socks, and she cast a Quick-Drying spell that made the slush vanish in a burst of steam. "Lemme get you a cup of hot chocolate, and we'll bundle you up in one of the beds upstairs. Have you eaten? I'll get you some roast and some chips. You stay here."

Lysandra watched the woman hurry off behind the bar and into the back, yelling at someone called Henry to get busy. She stared in that direction several minutes, confused but lovely and warm. It didn't take long for Rosemerta to reappear carrying a mug with an enormous tower of whipped cream and a steaming plate of food hovering behind her.

The barmaid set it down in front of the Gryffindor and planted her hands on her hips. She stared the pureblooded girl down until about half the meal was gone and her cheeks were flushed red with heat.

"Now," Rosemerta said with a small smile. "Shall I owl one of the professor up at Hogwarts to escort you onto the grounds tomorrow? What House are you in?"

"Either Professor McGonagall or Professor Snape please." At Rosemerta's confused look, Lysandra quickly explained. "I'm a Gryffindor, but Professor Snape would probably come get me too."

"I'll send an owl in the morning, missy." The barmaid smiled and then gestured to the half-hidden stairs just to the side. "The first door should be unlocked, and I've laid out a set of old pajamas for you. They may be a bit big, but they're warm and comfy. Off you go."

"Thank you, Madam." Lysandra murmured with a small, but grateful smile. Rosemerta waved away her thanks and hurried off to deal with the customers calling for her attention.

Minerva McGonagall was woken from a very pleasant lie in on Christmas morning by the insistent tapping of an owl at her window. With a deep frown on her face, the Transfiguration professor made her way to the window and let the bird inside. It was a plain brown owl who blinked up at her with enormous tawny eyes, offering the woman a slightly bent parchment. The owl hadn't flown far, judging by the lack of envelope and it hopped closer with insistent eyes.

Minerva took the letter from the owl, who brushed its head against her hand and then hurried back out the window. Absentmindedly, McGonagall pulled the window closed again and unfolded the parchment. Her eyes scanned the quickly scrawled message and then she read it again after picking up her glasses, completely shocked at the contents.

Professor McGonagall,

I believe I have one of your students here (she said her name was Lysandra?), and she told me to owl either you or Professor Snape. She appeared last evening unexpectedly, shivering up a storm and only wearing a dress and a pair of socks! Poor thing had been dropped in Hogsmeade via Apparition and was bleeding from a Splinching accident. I bundled her into one of the spare rooms upstairs and fed her some roast, but I figured it would be better if she returned to the castle.

Would you mind sending someone to escort her back up?

Sincerely,

Rosemerta

"Sweet Merlin." McGonagall breathed, dropping the letter onto her bedside table and hurrying towards her wardrobe across the room. Her braided hair slapped against her shoulder, and in practically no time at all, the woman was dressed and leaving her rooms in her usual pressed robes and a matching hat, but not before sending a note up to Albus. McGonagall was an early riser, so the castle was empty at that time, and she cautiously made her way around corners towards the front doors of the castle.

The situation at the school was one she'd only heard rumors of while she was in school. Rumors of the Chamber of Secrets and all sorts of horrible dark things had lingered in the halls even after their sources had left.

She quickly made her way through the snow, casting a Melting charm as she hurried towards the gates of Hogwarts, slipping through them and Apparating herself down to Hogsmeade.

The Three Broomsticks was dark, but a candle was lit in the window by the door, letting everyone know that someone was there if they needed help. The Transfiguration professor hurried her way to the door, briskly knocking on the worn wood and stepping back to wait for Rosemerta to open the door.

The door swung open and revealed a wide-awake Rosemerta, who ushered her former teacher in out of the cold and to the single occupied table in the corner.

"Lysandra, dear," Rosemerta called to the small figure bundled into an enormous brown fuzzy sweater. A pair of silver eyes poked over the large collar tucked under a pale, pointed chin, and they widened at McGonagall's appearance. "Professor McGonagall is here to take you up to the castle."

"I'm sorry, Professor!" Lysandra Malfoy cried, lunging to her feet and wringing her small hands, which vanished into the ends of the sweater. "I didn't realize-"

"Miss Malfoy," Rosemerta's eyes whipped to the second year in surprise when McGonagall interrupted. "I am glad you are alright. Do you have your things?"

"No…" She dropped her eyes away from her teacher and shifted from foot to foot. "I can call for one of the house-elves when I'm back in the castle. Thank you, Madam Rosmerta. You're very kind."

"Come along, Miss Malfoy. There is still plenty of time for you to open your Christmas gifts before lunch." The raven followed the stern professor out the door, sending a small smile to Rosemerta as they left and clutching her sweater close, carefully stepping around puddles in a pair of too-big welly boots.

There was a carriage waiting at the end of the Hogsmeade-to-Hogwarts path, a thestral waiting patiently to return them to the school. McGonagall helped the small second-year up into the carriage, and once both the ladies had seated themselves, the creature began its trek up to the castle.

Lysandra's eyes watched the seemingly-empty harness with curious eyes and a slightly tilted head. McGonagall watched the young girl across from her with sad eyes, remembering a student in a similar situation and she hoped Lysandra's turned out for the better.

The professor helped her student out of the carriage and paused when she opened her mouth.

"There's a creature there," Lysandra asked, still looking at the harness. "Isn't there?"

"Yes, indeed." Minerva lifted an eyebrow, impressed. "It's a thestral. Can you see it?"

"A thestral?" Lysandra's hand twitched towards where she normally kept her wand. "No, but I can sense it, I think. My wand has a thestral hair in it."

"Does it really, Miss Malfoy?" The professor ushered the girl towards the warmth of the castle. "Interesting. Let's get you up to the Gryffindor Tower; I'm sure your house elf can bring your things from the Malfoy Manor."

"Yes, all right."

The Gryffindor Tower housed the Weasleys and Potter and was apparently supposed to house Granger too, but the Muggleborn been sent to the Hospital Wing after a potions accident of some sort, judging by the loudly whispered conversations between Weasley and Potter.

She'd gone unnoticed, for the most part, hiding up in her dorm with the many books she'd gotten for Christmas from various, still obligated, relatives. She'd slept through Christmas dinner when she had first arrived and had later been visited by one of the Hogwarts elves who looked visibly upset at her missing of dinner.

Other than that, and a brief good morning from Prefect Weasley and Littlest Weasley, she'd kept to herself. Lysandra doubted even her brother knew she was back in the castle for the remainders of the holidays.

What did come as a surprise, however, was the sudden appearance of Oliver Wood at her usual table just after the holidays, where she was reading one of her Charms books. He grinned widely at her and leaned forward.

"Practice tomorrow," he whispered, his eyes holding a manic gleam that partly frightened her. "At six-thirty."

"In the morning?"

"Yup." And then he walked away. Lysandra's eyes followed him but stopped on the Littlest Weasley, who was pale-faced and shifting restlessly in her chair by the window, scribbling furiously in what Lysandra assumed was a diary. The poor girl looked incredibly peaky, and her eyes were welling with tears as she wrote, practically stabbing her quill into the paper.

At six-fifteen the next morning, Lysandra was making her way down to the pitch when she saw a flash of acid green from around the corner and a strangle wet slithery noise. A flash of red hair caught her eyes as she turned the corner and she froze, her broom clattering from her hand onto into the puddle that was ebbing out from Myrtle's bathroom.

An enormous acid green mass shifted and roiled before her, scales the size of her eyes glittering in the torchlight and the faint light from outside. The flash of red hair was the Littlest Weasley, who was making strange strangled hissing noises to what Lysandra very quickly realized was an enormous snake; such an enormous snake that only a small portion of it was currently making its way through the bathroom door.

"Littlest Weasley," Lysandra squeaked, frozen in her spot at the corner of the hallway.

The tiny first year spun around menacingly, focusing terrifying red eyes on the second year who had come to interrupt. But it wasn't Ginny Weasley who faced the pureblooded witch; this was something else.

"You," The redhead snarled, tightening her hand around her wand. Sparks spat from the end of the wand, glittering in the puddle. The enormous snake shifted its head towards the eye-locked pair; it's black tongue flicking quickly out of its mouth. "You filthy horrible Mudblood! You dare to interrupt-"

"Weasley," Lysandra snapped out of whatever shock she'd been in, recognizing the enormous amount of danger she was in. A heavy sinking feeling burrowed into her gut, and she swallowed heavily. Ginny's eyes flashed dangerously, and she hissed something out that caught the attention of the snake, who started to turn its massive head towards the raven. "I'm a Malfoy."

Panic reared quickly in the Not-Weasley's eyes, just the bright yellow eyes of the snake turned enough that she could catch their color, something slammed into her mind and forced her eyes to the window, where the last thing she saw was the terrified face of the Littlest Weasley, her eyes a bright brown, the flickering figure of a handsome black-haired teen, and the reflection of the snake's yellow eyes.

And then everything went black.

Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, also known as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it.

Pipes

"Ron," Harry Potter breathed. "This is it. This is the answer. The monster in the Chamber's a basilisk – a giant serpent! That's why I've heard that voice all over the place, and nobody else has heard it. It's because I understand Parseltongue…"

"The basilisk kills people by looking at them. But no one's died… because no one looked it straight in the eye. Colin saw it through his camera. The basilisk burned up all the film inside it, but Colin just got Petrified. Justin… Justin must've seen the basilisk through Nearly Headless Nick! Nick got the full blast of it, but he couldn't die again… and Hermione and that Ravenclaw prefect were found with a mirror next to them. Hermione had just realized the monster was a basilisk. I bet you anything she warned the first person she met to look around corners with a mirror first! And that girl pulled out her mirror – and -"

Ron Weasley's jaw dropped as he stared at his black-haired friend. "And Mrs. Norris?"

"The water…" Harry said slowly, his thinking face on. "The flood from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. I bet you Mrs. Norris only saw the reflection… The crowing of the rooster is fatal to it! Hagrid's roosters were killed! The Heir of Slytherin didn't want one anywhere near the castle once the Chamber opened! Spiders flee before it! It all fits!"

"But how's the basilisk been getting around the place?" Ron asked, scratching the back of his head. "A giant snake… Someone would've seen… and what about Malfoy?"

"Pipes. Pipes." Harry said. "Ron, it's been using the plumbing. I've heard that voice inside the walls…."

"But Malfoy? She's a pureblood."

"She was outside Myrtle's bathroom too. There was water on the floor…." Harry frowned. "What if she did see the basilisk?"

"She'd be dead." Ron snorted.

"But what if she saw the basilisk, and knew what it was and looked away. Her head was facing the window; she could have seen the reflection in the glass."

"The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets!" Ron grabbed Harry's shoulders. "What if it's a bathroom? What if it's in-"

"-Moaning Myrtle's bathroom." Harry whispered.

Lysandra woke up coughing heavily around the rim of a goblet pouring a foul-tasting potion down her throat. Her eyes took several seconds to adjust, burning with dryness as she blinked. She felt someone twisting her body to the side, gently moving her head to stare at the roof even as it protested.

"There we are, Miss Malfoy." Someone murmured, gently wiping the spilled potion from her lips and making her comfortable. "Take your time."

"Where…?" Lysandra croaked, wincing at the pain that was slowly fading from her neck and eyes.

"You're in the Hospital Wing, Miss Malfoy." Her blurry eyes revealed the Hogwarts Matron, Madam Pomfrey, who was hovering over her with unreadable eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"I…" Something told the second year that saying she was fine would not make a good answer to the matron. "My eyes, neck and head hurt."

Madam Pomfrey nodded, reaching for another potion out of her line of sight. "That's mostly to be expected, dear. Do you remember what happened?"

"I was…heading down to the Quidditch pitch, and I turned the corner near Moaning Myrtle's bathroom." She whispered, clenching her hands around the bedsheets. "There was a snake… it was enormous and acid green and... the Littlest Weasley, but it wasn't her. Her eyes were red… she was hissing to the snake."

"You saw it….?" Madam Pomfrey gasped, her eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. "Good Godric."

"She hissed something to it." Lysandra frowned, squinting her eyes as they watered against the light from the window. "And then I told her my last name, and she looked so… panicked. And then my head was forced to the side, and the last thing I remember seeing was the Littlest Weasley's face, yellow eyes, and a dark-haired teenager."

"Miss Malfoy," Madam Pomfrey handed her a potion and scowled. "You were the only one Petrified when we found you…"

"Oh… Petrified." The raven murmured. Madam Pomfrey made motions with her wand over her body and frowned at the readings that spurted from the end of her wand.

"Drink that up, dear, and then you can head down to the feast."

The Hogwarts Great Hall was filled with students dressed in their pajamas when she arrived in the clothes she'd been Petrified in; a pair of tight black leggings under a black-and-red set of finely made short Quidditch robes that Oliver Wood nearly threw a fit over when she sat down at the end of the table where he was sitting with his dorm mates, until she blankly told him she wouldn't be continuing their practices.

Granger made a huge fuss when she spotted Potter and Weasley, sprinting towards them screaming 'You solved it! You solved it!', and one of the Hufflepuff boys appeared to wring Potter's hand and looked to be apologizing profusely. Hagrid made an appearance around three in the morning, booming with laughter. Someone informed Lysandra that Potter and Weasley had earned Gryffindor four hundred points in one go and had secured the House Cup for the second year running. Professor McGonagall announced that all the exams (except for OWLs and NEWTs) had been canceled as a treat, and Dumbledore informed them all that unfortunately, Professor Lockhart would be unable to return next year, owing to the fact he needed to go away and get his memory back. Even teachers joined in on the cheering that greeted the news.

The rest of the final term passed in a haze of blazing sunshine, and Hogwarts was back to normal with only a few minor differences – Defence Against the Dark Arts was canceled, and her poor excuse of a father had been sacked as a school governor. Her twin was no longer strutting around the school like he owned the place and the Littlest Weasley looked the best she had all year, except when she noticed Lysandra; instead, her face drained of color and her eyes glazed over with tears, and she got as far away as possible whenever she saw the older Gryffindor.

Just before the term ended and they were all to return home, Lysandra received a letter from her mother.

Lysandra,

Darling, I'm so glad you are all right! I'm sorry I was not there when you woke, but your father is not happy at the turn of events and has requested that we leave you be. Due to the circumstances, your father believes it best to send you away for the summer. I've made arrangements with Beauxbatons Academy of Magic so that you can finish your second year with no repercussions for your third year, though I know that you are a very smart young lady.

In addition, your father has contacted his cousin Lazarus in France, and he has agreed to house you for the duration of your summer holiday, after which you will return to Hogwarts. I'm sure you will enjoy your stay, as they live just outside Paris and there is much to discover there. I've met Lazarus a few times, and he's a nice man, Lysandra dear. His wife is a half-blood witch named Mavis from the Mille-feuille family. I have not met her myself, but I have heard that she is a nice woman.

I will meet you off the train, Lysandra, and we will take a Portkey to the Malfoy Chateau right away, as per your father's instructions. Draco will be taken home by one of the house elves, so please say your farewells on the train.

With love,

Mother

The Malfoy Chateau was less a chateau and more of a castle. It had several round towers, and an enormous, sprawling lands that Lysandra was later informed were about seventy-five acres. It was washed in white with pale grey roof tiles, and enormous windows dotted the structure on all surfaces. The long tree-spotted drive ended at a fancy black wrought-iron gate with an enormous M looped through it.

Even Narcissa looked impressed.

Most impressive was the welcome they received when they appeared outside the front door. A line of crisply dressed maids and men-servants waited to greet them with the Lord and Lady of the house, who were both dressed in an exquisite set of robes.

"Cousin Narcissa," The man at on the steps greeted, spreading his arms with an overexaggerated smile. "Welcome to my home! This is your daughter?"

"Yes," The British woman nudged her only daughter forward to meet their cousin. "This is Lysandra."

"Pleased to meet you, fille."Lazarus boomed, stepping aside so that his wife could greet his cousin and he could lead his house-guest into his castle. "Come inside, I've heard you've been on the train all day."

"Yes, sir." Lysandra glanced only briefly at her mother, who had been trapped in a rapid-fire conversation with Mavis.

While they walked into the Malfoy Chateau, Lysandra took a moment to examine her cousin. Lazarus Malfoy was a very tall man with broad shoulders and large biceps, very much unlike her father, who preferred the trim and fit look. Lazarus' hair was the stereotypical blond of their family, though it was cut short and curled over at the front; his eyes were a cold, steely grey and the lines of his face incredibly aristocratic.

"Unlike the British," she heard him say as he showed her into one of the upstairs bedrooms facing the sprawling grounds behind the castle. "We use actual people to tend to our home instead of house elves, mostly Squibs, and lower-caste witches. One of the maids will tend to your needs while you are here; doing your hair and such for the formal dinners, Mavis likes to hold on Fridays. I detest them, but she insists, and I won't have you making us look like fools."

"On that note," He spun and pinned her with a hard look as he stopped in front of a dark wooden door. "I expect you to mind your manners while you are here; speak only when spoken to, do what you are told, and above all, you must act like you are a perfect pureblood lady, do you understand? I know exactly what happened at that horrible school, and I'm taking you in out of the goodness of my heart because I know what it is like to be put somewhere that does not conform to your family's traditions. I managed to do well for myself even without being put into Slytherin, and I expect you to do the same."

"Yes, sir." Lysandra nodded, clenching her hands around the edges of her school robes, which she was still wearing.

"Good." He nodded and then swung open the door. "Mavis and I thought that this room would be most suited to your tastes. I call it the Gryffindor room, but Mavis insists we call it Crimson room. You can see why I suppose."

Lysandra stepped in after her cousin, and her mouth nearly dropped open. The room she had been given was enormous, for a start, easily twice the size of the one at Malfoy Manor, and painted a dark red that went fabulously with the marble fireplace, white painted roof and trim, and the grand white bed across from the fire. There was even a red-painted chandelier hanging from the ceiling and billowing white curtains embroidered with delicate red flowers.

"The washroom is through that door," Lazarus pointed to a white door near the window. "And you can ring the maid for a bath at any time. Someone will be bringing your trunk up shortly, and we expect you downstairs for dinner at half-past six every evening. Today is formal, and I expect you to be dressed properly."

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

Lazarus stared down at her for a few more seconds and then sharply turned on his heel and exited the room.

Lysandra was staring out the window when her maid arrived, a dark-skinned woman called Adelaide who seemed perfectly happy to lay out a new dress - A present from ze Mistress – and sit her charge in front of the vanity to do her hair in the latest style for girls her age.

Mavis Malfoy was like a version of her mother with only the bad qualities; she was absolutely stunning, but she peered down her nose at her cousin-by-marriage and constantly critiqued the way she ate, sat, breathed, wrote, drank, and dressed, despite the fact that the dress she was currently wearing was the one Mavis had gifted her.

Lysandra was all too grateful to retreat to her Gryffindor-esque room and hide for the remainder of the evening, citing that she was grateful for the meal and the dress, but she'd had a long day and could do with some rest.

She was equally as pleased to receive a rose-scented letter from Beauxbatons the next morning.

Cher Miss Malfoy,

I, Madame Maxime, am pleased to welcome you into our summer programme at Académie de Magie Beauxbatons. I expect you will do wonderfully at our establishment and will flourish under our guidance in all the things we teach. I have included your full schedule and a list of things you will need upon your arrival.

It is to my understanding that you will be staying with family during the duration of your enrollment at my Académie, and as such I will expect you to arrive promptly for your morning classes.

Meilleures salutations,

Madame Olympe Maxime

The first letter's writing vanished in a small cloud of perfumed glitter, revealing the list of supplies.

Miss Lysandra Malfoy will require:

Two sets of Beauxbatons' summer uniform, as well as one summer hat, one dancing uniform, one pair of dancing shoes, summer gloves, and a summer cloak for field outings

Her wand

Her potions kit, including dragon hide gloves and a cauldron

Her telescope

Her second-year books, disregarding the works of Gilderoy Lockhart

Defense Contre Les Arts Sombres: Volume Un et Deux

Danse de Base: Salle de Bal

Danse de Base: Ballet

Other necessary books will be provided upon request of the instructor.

The schedule that had come with the letter was on slightly less fancy parchment and didn't smell quite so much of roses. Lysandra's days were packed full, from eight in the morning until at least seven in the evening, and included two dance lessons, one etiquette lesson, and an optional self-defense class on Wednesday nights, which her mother had signed her up for.

When she told Cousin Lazarus about needing supplies, he waved his hand dismissively and told her to talk to her maid, who immediately provided her with everything she needed and showed her where the Floo was so that she could transport herself to and from the French school in the mornings and evenings.

When the classes at Beauxbatons did start, Lysandra found that she had a difficult time with how rapid the French at the school was, but her school work was unaffected, as it was all in English to be sent back to Hogwarts with her final exam marks.

Lysandra returned to the Malfoy Chateau every evening exhausted, both mentally and physically, and often dropped straight into bed after throwing on the nearest set of pajamas. Between the hours of schoolwork she was revising and the new physical element that Beauxbatons insisted upon, there was very little time for anything else in the way of socially interacting with anyone, including Mavis, who liked to sleep in until nearly noon, whereas her cousin Lazarus like to be up and about around six in the morning. He usually wished her well on her way to Beauxbatons.

The last Friday before her second-year exams were to take place, Lazarus stopped her before she could leave.

"Mavis is insisting you attend her party on Saturday, in full formal-wear." He informed her, a slight wrinkle in his nose to show his displeasure at the event. "She's told me she has found you a dress to wear and has asked me to pass along that the entire evening will be void of any English."

"I see." Lysandra murmured, adjusting the grip she had on her school bag. "I understand."

"Good." Lazarus nodded, and then he flicked open the newspaper in his hands. "Have a good day."

"Likewise."

The rest of her Friday was uneventful, and when she returned to the Malfoy Chateau, everything was as it usually was. However, Saturday morning, Lysandra was brought out of sleep by Adelaide throwing open the curtains and merrily wishing her good morning in French.

"Reveille-toi!" She called out, vanishing into the bathroom to putter with something. Lysandra rolled away from the sunlight streaking through the window and buried her face in the pillow. She was reawakened moments later when Adelaide saw fit to kidnap her blankets.

"I'm up." The raven grumbled, sitting up to rub her eyes. Adelaide gave her a stern look until Lysandra's sleep-muddled brain remembered that she was supposed to be speaking in French and repeated herself.

The rest of the day followed similarly, though Lysandra didn't often speak and hid in the library until Adelaide found her about three hours before the party was supposed to be taking place. The dark-skinned maid laughed good-naturedly as she escorted the pouting thirteen-year-old back to her room.

Waiting on the bed was a pastel pink dress with silver appliques. It was a pretty dress, made of flouncy chiffon, but Lysandra immediately hated the thing along with its matching low-heeled sandals.

"C'est rose (It's pink)." She muttered. Adelaide giggled.

"Oui, fillette."

She still ended up wearing the pink dress, and her cousin-in-law seemed very smug that the girl was wearing it. Lysandra, through bored observation, realized that most people were dressed in pastel blues, yellows, and pinks, which she found curious.

"Why are you 'iding all ze way over 'ere?" The raven-haired girl turned to face the teen who had spoken, and she flushed from the attention when she made eye contact.

"I… don't know anyone," Lysandra replied, speaking English for the first time all day. The gorgeous girl before her smiled brightly, lighting up her face and making her blue eyes sparkle.

"Fleur Delacour, it eez a pleasure to meet you." The taller teenager introduced herself, bobbing into a perfect curtsy that made her white and blue dress flutter along her knees.

"Lysandra Malfoy, it's lovely to meet you as well."

Fleur smiled prettily, and looped her arm through Lysandra's, leading her towards the open doors that led to the backyard.

"I 'ave not seen you at Beauxbatons before," The French girl said after several quiet moments. "I did not know that Dame Malfoy 'ad been with child before this."

"Oh!" Lysandra gasped, registering the end of her new-found acquaintance's sentence before the beginning. "Is that why everyone is wearing pastels?"

"Oui." Fleur blinked down at her. "I thought you would 'ave known."

"I had no idea my cousin was pregnant." She murmured in response. "And I attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but due to some unfortunate circumstances, I was unable to complete my second-year there, and I am attending Beauxbatons' summer programme."

"Ah!" Fleur was the one who was surprised now. "I 'ad thought you much older than you are!"

"I'm thirteen." Lysandra dropped her eyes bashfully.

"And I am, how you say, quinze?"

"Fifteen." Lysandra supplied. Fleur nodded enthusiastically.

"Oui, oui! It eez not so much difference."

The girls spent the rest of the evening near the balcony, discussing fulltime Beauxbatons versus part-time Beauxbatons and the benefits of beauty charms and Fleur even told her about her designer aunt who lived in Tokyo. Sometime during the evening, Mavis made the grand and dramatic announcement that she was pregnant, much to the joy of her husband, who swooped down on her with a large joyful smile.

Fleur gave Lysandra her address as she was pulling on her cloak, mentioning that she would like to keep in touch and was interested in knowing about various British oddities. Lysandra promised to keep in touch.

"It will be nice to have someone to speak with." She admitted to the older girl bashfully. Fleur looked shocked, and then fire flickered in her eyes.

"You 'ave no friends!?" She hissed, looking angry on Lysandra's behalf. "I do not… ces etudiants terribles! I shall send you une lettre at least once a month!"

"You'll be busy, Fleur. Please don't-"

"I will. I insist." Fleur turned on her heel and swept over to where her parents and little sister were waiting, throwing a smile over her shoulder as they vanished.

The exams the following week were a breeze, though the Beauxbatons mandated classes she had taken were slightly tougher. Once she had finished her last exam, Headmistress Maxime wished her luck and informed her that her exam results would be sent to Hogwarts and herself before September.

Lazarus surprised his wife at dinner with the announcement of an unexpected international business trip, which Mavis was none too pleased about. Her pretty face twisted into a sneer and she crossed her arms over her chest.

"I cannot go, and she cannot stay." Mavis eventually said, her eyes narrowed at her cousin-by-marriage. Lysandra ducked her head, brushing a couple of stray hairs from her forehead. Her fork poked at the broccoli on her plate. "My condition is too delicate to travel that far. Take the girl with you."

"Yes, amoureux." Lazarus sighed, closing his eyes. "Please be packed by tomorrow, cousin. We will be in Brazil for a week."

"Yes, sir."

"You can leave now." Mavis sneered, turning her nose up at the teen. "Children should be in bed."

"Please excuse me." Lysandra murmured, pushing away from the table and making her way out of the dining room.

"You shouldn't be so harsh to her, Mavis," Lazarus told his wife as Lysandra shut the door. "She is family."

"She is a stupid little-"

Lysandra shook her head and walked away.