Chapter 1-
The lines between "good" and "evil" had always been blurred to her. With all that she had known in just eleven years of life, it had become harder and harder with each passing moment to really solidify her feelings with regards to the moral compass that she had began to question if she was even in possession of. It seemed so simple for her sisters, really. And their only definition of good was all that was evil. She assumed the same went for her parents, though she'd have to have any contact with them to know that for sure, but given the circumstances that they had gotten themselves into, she was comfortable with her assumption. It was clear where Idina and Borden sat on the position as well, considering the marks their wrists bore. And yet, despite all of these solid cases around her, her own feelings towards the matter remained scrambled.
As she stared at the acceptance letter to Hogwarts, dainty fingers gripping the parchment with trembling desperation, she prayed the castle would hold the answers to her questions. Perhaps finally escaping from the house in which she had grown up in and breathing in impartial air would clear her head and allow her to decide her own beliefs and loyalties. Perhaps, she hoped, it would be within the dungeons that she would feel confident with her name and all that it entailed. She could somehow vividly imagine herself wrapped in bedding of emerald and silver, the same as her sisters were, potion recipes and incantations parading through her brain as she solved seemingly answerless riddles.
With a sigh, she placed the letter back onto her desk and casually spread out the forms behind it, her school supplies, robe requirements, etcetera. Across the room, Freya haphazardly plopped her belongings into her trunk with the clumsy flicking of her wrist. Beneath her sister's stare, Freya turned and raised a light eyebrow.
"Can I help you?"
The younger girl shook her head and returned her icy stare to her own trunk, parchment and quills and ink neatly fitted into the corners. Borden would be bringing her to Diagon Alley that afternoon and she too would be able to fill her trunk, more organized, of course, than any of her sisters'. The following day, she would, for the first time, be joining them on the Hogwarts Express, perhaps tucking herself into a compartment full of other future slytherins and sharing in their level of nerves.
"Borden won't be pleased to be waiting much longer," her sister chimed from across the room, a cauldron dropping mid-travel as her attention faltered.
She wordlessly nodded and slipped out the door, hesitating for only long enough to cast a glare over her shoulder.
Borden was waiting in the drawing room, squinted eyes scrutinizing her as she joined him. He nodded towards his side, and she silently laid a hand on his sleeve. Her body was compressed, her cranium moments from shattering. And then her knees trembled with the force from the stone beneath her feet, and Diagon Alley came into clear view.
They began at Olivander's, and her heart fluttered against her ribs with anticipation. Her fingers were nearly twitching to grasp a wand of her own after all the years of watching her sisters use them. Borden stood against the door frame and watched her along the length of his nose.
Olivander met her with a gleam in his glossy eyes as they ran across her face. He grinned as he looked over her shoulder at Borden.
"Might this be the final Bradley girl, I dare presume?"
Borden wordlessly nodded and Olivander's face lit up once more as he faced her. "It's a pleasure," he began bustling about the shelves, stirring up dust as he went, "oh," he swelled, "such powerful wands have chosen your sisters. Powerful young witches, really, lovely combinations."
He stopped, arms overflowing with boxes, and he raised an eyebrow to her.
"I seem to have gotten ahead of myself," he shoved the wands onto his counter, "your first name, dear?"
"Maeve, sir," she raised her chin as she spoke.
"Maeve, Maeve," Olivander mused, plucking through the wands in front of him, "Maeve, she who intoxicates, yes, yes, Gaelic."
Maeve found herself squinting slightly at him.
"Aha!" He jumped, a box clutched to his chest, "yes, indeed, I'm sure this will be it."
He unboxed the wand, dark wood of some sort, and handed it to her. The handle melded into her hand, and her forefinger came to rest on the circular knob of the wand. Perhaps just a figment of her imagination, but the young witch would've sworn she felt the power of the wand in her grasp beginning to pump through her veins like the blood that was already there.
"Elm wood, 10" and hard flexibility," Olivander hesitated, a grin floating across his lips, "phoenix feather core." He met her eyes expectantly, "go on, give 'er a flick."
She eyed him suspiciously for only a moment before doing as she was told, and as the warm feeling tingled up her wrist, golden sparks danced from the tip of the wand and illuminated the dust particles in the store. Olivander cheered with excitement and clapped his hands together, swooning at the compatibility between the two; Maeve felt herself smile.
As they carried on the afternoon in Diagon Alley, Maeve took notice of the way people ducked their heads as they passed her and Borden- it was hard to ignore, in her opinion. She simply sighed and raised her chin each time and carried along hastily by his side; she was used to the looks, or lack thereof, as they occurred each time the girls accompanied him or Idina on any outings.
The following morning, she was up before the rest of the house. She paced in front of the bathroom mirror, stopping occasionally to stare at herself. Clear blue eyes stared back each time, large by nature but widened by anxiety. The blonde curls spiraled wildly as if mirroring that of her stomach.
When Elsie, her oldest sister, appeared behind her in the mirror, she knew her time was up. The older girl's defined cheekbones matched her own, and she would've dared to smile at the reminder of their mother had she not received a sneer just moments later.
"Finished with your own admiration for the day?"
Maeve glared up at her and tipped her chin upwards, turning harshly and beginning towards the door.
"Being pretty won't get you very far in slytherin, just saying," Elsie called out from behind her. Maeve ignored her sister's taunts.
By the time that Borden and Idina had escorted the four girls to Platform 9 ¾, the sisters had engaged in nearly a dozen fights, the last of which ending with Idina casting silencio into the backseat at them.
Elsie, Lynn, and Freya shot off like rockets and were quickly lost in the steam of the Hogwart's Express, though Maeve found herself lurking behind the cover of the Stones and taking in the young witches and wizards buzzing around her with excitement. She felt her heart flutter and even suppressed a giggle as she watched a large family teasing one another playfully.
"Maeve, come," Idina's voice broke her from her spell, her eyes finding the woman waiting expectantly. She trudged to her side and quickly took in the duo speaking with Borden.
The man's long, silvery hair stuck out first. Beside him, a boy with the same hair, only shorter and slicked back with gel, found her with curiosity. He smirked at her.
"Ah," the man mused, looking down upon her and sharing a glance with Borden, "and here she is. Draco," he regarded the boy, "this is Maeve Bradley. How fortunate that you two are the same year."
The boy's eyes, gray like storm clouds, seemed delighted as he turned to her once more. He held out a straight hand, and she automatically returned the handshake.
"Draco Malfoy."
"Maeve Bradley, a pleasure."
"Of course," he smirked once more and looked back up to his father. He nodded in approval and grinned at Borden and Idina.
"What're you standing there for?" The man spoke to him, eyebrows raised, "escort her onto the train." He jutted his chin towards an entrance and Draco nodded hastily before moving towards her.
He wordlessly took an end of her trunk and they lugged it the length of the platform together. Once out of the sight of his father, Draco sighed and turned to her with a smile. She raised an eyebrow.
"Let's find a compartment."
Draco led them through the train and slid open the door to an empty compartment with ease, releasing a breathy smile as she entered in front of him. When they had plopped down from one another, Maeve released a sigh she hadn't even been aware that she was holding in. Draco smiled again.
"Well?"
She raised an eyebrow at him again, "Well what?"
He chuckled, "Well I'm proper chuffed, Hogwart's is going to be fantastic. Haven't your sisters told you all about it?"
"No," she made a point to hold her nose up as she spoke, but her eyes betrayed her as she found a spot on Draco's shoe to focus on.
"No?" He stared at her, his playful grin fading. They fell silent. "Well," Draco coughed,
"you're lucky that you've got me, then. I know loads about it."
Maeve hummed a response and scooted towards the window as the train started moving. When she could find no trace of Idina or Borden, she settled her eyes on a plump woman and a little girl, the same ones from the large family she had watched earlier, chasing after the train and waving at it with smiles; for a moment, she pretended they were waving at her.
The platform was long gone when Draco spoke again, though Maeve had felt his stare for the entirety of the silence.
"What's it like?" He asked.
She turned back to look at him.
"With your parents," his voice lowered and he leaned forward against his knees, "ya know, being in Azkaban."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "There's not much to tell," she mumbled, shaking her head, "I don't remember them, so I don't miss them, if that's what you're asking."
"I wasn't."
She hummed.
"Father says you should be proud of them," Draco spoke again. He was resting his chin in the palm of his hand, his elbow propped up on his knee. When she didn't answer, he continued. "He says they've proven their true loyalty to the Dark Lord."
"How honorable," she rolled her eyes. She scooted her back against the edge of the window and cast her legs along the length of her bench.
"I didn't say I agreed with him," Draco grumbled, sitting up and sighing.
Maeve pursed her lips and watched him as he analyzed their compartment, looking bored as he did so. His lips fell into a frown as his eyes came back onto his hands, clasped tightly in his lap. She felt awkward, and a part of her even felt bad for snapping at him when he had tried so hard to be polite and make conversation- regardless of how inappropriate it may have been. But as she thought about it more, she realized that his father's interaction with Borden and Idina, and the words Draco himself had just spoken, meant that he, too, was a death eater.
"It hasn't been lovely living with the Stone's," she finally offered, bringing her feet back to the floor and facing Draco again. He perked up at her voice.
"Father quite likes them," Draco mused, pursing his lips, "and your parents must've, considering they left your lot with them when they went away."
Maeve shrugged, "I think they might be our godparents. I couldn't really care less who they are to me, I don't like them."
While slightly shocked that she had shared such a personal thought with him, something she hadn't even shared with her sisters- not like they would've cared- it felt good to finally say it out loud, regardless of how long the thought may have been festering.
"No?" Draco asked. He had once again rested his chin in his hand and his attention was undividedly on Maeve as she spoke.
"No," she shrugged one shoulder, picking her chin up again as she did so, "I think I'm most excited to be at Hogwart's so I don't have to see them. I might even stay during the Holidays, too."
"Don't be stupid," Draco shook his head, "come stay at the Manor for the Holidays."
"The Manor?"
"Yes, our Manor. You'll love it there." He spoke casually, his eyes finally leaving her to look out the window. "You should probably send an owl as soon as we get there."
"Hm?"
"To let the Stones know that you'll be spending the Holidays at the Manor," he shrugged, "I'll let my parents know, I'm sure Father will be delighted to host a Bradley."
Maeve looked at him questioningly, though he seemed unbothered as he peered out into the hallway of the train. A woman was bustling down the length of it, a cart in front of her as she went, and she was stopping at every compartment along the way. Draco looked at her briefly before smiling and standing up to meet the woman at the door.
"Two cauldron cakes," he spoke uninterestedly towards the trolley lady, his gray eyes already moving to watch for Maeve's response. He handed a cake to Maeve with a smirk before opening his own and biting into it. She watched him for a moment before biting into her own.
They ate silently, though when they were finished, the conversation was lighter than before, and they chattered about Hogwarts and slytherin and the classes they were looking forward to most. Maeve felt herself relaxing as the moments went by, and the excited flutter in her chest resumed. She laughed at a joke of Draco's as the door to their compartment slid open and two large bodies clamoured in.
"Draco, you'll never believe-"
"Harry Potter's in our year!"
"He's on the train now!"
"Just down the hall!"
Maeve and Draco looked towards one another with excitement, Maeve's eyes lit with curiosity and Draco's with a devious gleam.
"Harry Potter?" Maeve whispered.
"Saw him ourselves," one of the boys in the doorway spoke again, drawing attention back to the two of them.
They were large and attractive, though Draco stood and regarded them as friends while Maeve watched on. He turned back to her with a smile.
"Maeve," he gestured towards the two boys before pulling the door shut behind them, "this is Crab and Goyle. Their parents are like ours," he winked. She understood immediately and nodded, standing and holding out her hand to them.
"Maeve Bradley," she grimaced as Goyle roughly shook her hand, followed by Crab. When they were all seated once more, Draco had planted himself beside her and allowed the other two to sit opposite of them.
Draco chattered excitedly with the new arrivals, and while Maeve knew the largest topic was Harry Potter, she tried instead to focus on the world passing by outside the window. The sun was beginning to set, and she found it hard to believe that that much of the day had passed by, but she had been enjoying her time with her new friend. She glanced at Crab and Goyle with a sort of muted distaste before looking back out at the countryside.
"Maeve, Maeve," Draco called to her, smiling again as she faced him. She raised an eyebrow and he continued, "you reckon Harry Potter will be a slytherin like us?"
She pondered the thought and shrugged, "perhaps."
Draco nodded and resumed conversation with Crab and Goyle, who despite their attentiveness to Draco, continued to spare curious glances in her direction. Each time, she'd tip up her nose and look back out the window, the sky continuing to darken.
When the train arrived at the Hogsmade station, a man, larger than any Maeve had ever seemed before, called out for the first-year's to join him, and they were soon loading into boats and taking off into the dark lake between them and the castle. Maeve made a point to stay close beside Draco, and he dragged her into a boat with himself and released a breathy chuckle.
The other girl in the boat, a stranger with short, dark hair and a wide nose, turned to look at them once their boat had taken off.
She smiled at Draco and waved awkwardly, "Pansy Parkinson."
With narrowed eyes, he nodded to her, "Draco Malfoy, this is Maeve Bradley," he gestured to her with a grin. Pansy barely spared Maeve a glance before she turned back to look at the school, and after a mild glare in the new girl's direction, Maeve did the same. Beside her, Draco continued to point up at certain points in the castle and make assumptions at what they might hold.
Once inside, and still with Draco planted firmly beside her, Professor McGonagall introduced herselves to them and began explaining the sorting process and the houses. With the mention of slytherin, Draco turned to her with a smile and nudged at her with his elbow. She smiled back and began looking around the group of first-year's.
Crab and Goyle were only behind her and Draco, and Pansy had floated off towards the center of the group, standing casually behind a girl with frizzy hair and a ginger boy. In her observance, Professor McGonagall had left them and Draco had began speaking, making his way towards the front of the group.
He stopped in front of a boy with dark hair, and when she began paying attention, Maeve distinctly heard him regard the boy as Harry Potter. She tried to hide her excitement as she watched them speak and to also ignored Crab and Goyle closing in on either side of her as they struggled to hear Draco. The group had began to murmur loudly at the mention of the Boy Who Lived. Suddenly, Draco was gesturing towards her and the boys beside her, introducing them before himself. She avoided eye-contact when Harry looked over at them and found herself lost in the array of moving portraits that surrounded them. She only looked back when Professor McGonagall had returned and began leading them into the Great Hall.
It was everything that she had dreamed of and more, and she was so enchanted by all the magic suddenly, and finally, surrounding her that she hardly listened as Professor Dumbledore regarded them. When the sorting hat began singing, she tried even harder to tune it out and scan the table of teachers to either side of Dumbledore. It wasn't until Professor McGonagall began calling out their names to be sorted that she paid attention again.
The girl with bushy hair was Hermione Granger, and she was sorted into Gryffindor.
The hat had barely even grazed Draco's head before sorting him into Slytherin, and he flashed Maeve a twinkling smile as he hurried off to the table, pointing at the seat beside him before casting the same finger at her. She smiled again before her eyes fell onto her sisters down only a dozen seats from Draco at the slytherin table. Their eyes, blue like her own, were all set on her like stone.
More students were sorted into various houses.
The ginger boy was a Weasely, the first name having already slipped her mind, and he was sorted into Gryffindor as well.
The entire room seemed to hold their breath when Harry Potter was called up to be sorted, and Maeve couldn't deny that she was among them. Even Draco and her sisters seemed intrigued.
The hat sat upon his head for longer than any of the others had, and she was vaguely aware of the fact that Harry's lips were moving quickly as the hat pondered its decision.
Finally, the hat called out that Harry Potter was in Gryffindor, and the hall seemed to explode. More names were called to be sorted, among them Crab and Goyle joined slytherin, sitting across from Draco- her future seat beside him still empty.
"Maeve Bradley," Professor McGonagall called out, and her heart made a leap. She picked up her chin as she stepped forward and allowed for the hat to be set on her head.
Ah, another Bradley girl… the hat began to murmur, Maeve felt her breathing quicken.
Quite sharp, young Bradley, quick, too, indeed. Clever… Interesting, very interesting. You're cunning, that's for certain… maybe even deceitful? Like your sisters. But there's more…
The hat hesitated, and Maeve ignored the idea of all eyes of the hall on her. Her parents were in Azkaban, of course there were eyes on her.
Intelligent…
She subconsciously picked her nose up.
Ambitious…
Perhaps she would be stuck beneath the hat for the rest of her life.
Yes, yes… best be…
"Ravenclaw!"
Maeve felt the blood drain from her face. Her mouth opened slightly as she looked to Draco, his crestfallen face staring back in surprise. Down from him, her sisters' stares had turned to vicious glares and disappointment.
She felt as though she was stumbling through fog as she made her way to the Ravenclaw table, cheers and greetings of welcome calling out to her with excitement. As she sat, Pansy Parkinson was sorted into Slytherin and gleefully took the seat beside Draco- the seat that had been reserved for her.
As the night carried on, she couldn't ignore the eyes on her from the Slytherin table, or the nagging feeling that she should be sitting among them instead.