April 2005
She has been taking all her meals with Draco, Astoria and Scorpius. She had asked for Scorpius to be taken before she came inside the room, but Astoria had been relentless. Scorpius would stay.
"But 'Toria, I'm afraid I'll hurt him! I can't control-"
"You will learn to control your powers then. You and I both know you don't want to hurt us, so teach your magic to obey you. Train your control around us. Don't wait until you're surrounded by those who won't understand, Delphie."
She had no answer to that. Draco had looked into her eyes and nodded. They trusted her around them, around Scorpius. So she would learn.
She spends most of her time with Aunt Narcissa, to be on the safe side. She takes her to the piano, it sooths both of them. She is teaching her to control her magic. Lovingly, patiently, telling her how to calm herself, how to restrain her magic when it wants to escape her will. She keeps telling her stories of her Mother, of how she struggled to control her powers too, of how things flew about the house every now and then because of it. Of how she got a cat because of her Mother's magical mishaps. She laughs, frankly, unbound and terribly happy, at the tale of a very important Ministry owl being blown up into a rain of feathers after startling her Mother with its clumsy landing.
"You see, you're not the first in this family to run into trouble with birds." She tells her with a laugh of her own, holding her close. Then she kisses the top of her head and both her cheeks, sending her off to bed. She runs to the other wing, bids goodnight to Draco and Astoria, takes a peak into Scorpius crib, sending Narkey cracking in the air straight to the kitchen at her entrance. She giggles, then sights because of what happened, and then tosses it all over her shoulders as she runs to her bedroom, no diversions.
She feels safer under the white veil that covers her bed, it's her favourite place to think. There is something very familiar about that veil, but then it has always been above her, shielding her completely, drawing itself closed whenever she gets into bed. Aunt Narcissa has told her that it is a gift from her parents, a charmed thing to keep her safe at night. It expands as needed, transitioning from her crib, to the little bed that will soon belong to Scorpius, to this bigger bed she has now. "It's their love keeping you safe, sweetheart. Protecting you was their way of making sure you'd always know they love you", she remembers. If only it could keep nightmares away too, she wishes.
X
All four of them are in the dining room. Her magic hasn't sparked once since that day. She is still wary of it, and Narkey keeps a safe distance, though it has earned him several glares from Draco. He won't have his and Astoria's efforts ruined by the house-elf. Absolutely not, I'll curse the thing myself! He looks on as Delphini entertains his son by levitating the silverware. Controlling it, guiding it through the air, precisely.
"Delphini, I need my fork back, you know?"
She smiles and sets the fork back on the table, on its proper place by the side of his plate. Then slides it an inch to the left as he moves to hold it. He raises an eyebrow at her and congratulates her with his eyes.
He does still have bigger concerns. He has confirmed it with his Mother. Delphini remains terribly afraid of his Father. She will not go near him; she gets out of the room when he comes him, keeping as much distance between them as physically possible. His Father is doing his own part on keeping distance. He avoids her; he refrains from entering the same room.
He doesn't know which one is more scared of the other.
He does have to fix it.
Potter and Granger have fixed the Prophet's issue as well as they possibly can. They took most of the heat of public outrage after assuming they had been part of the decision to keep Delphini a secret and under Malfoy custody. The Ministry had demanded to examine her and her mind, to make sure her knowledge of the darkness was absent. Granger had presented them every single article, law and precedent on the forbidden use of Legilimency on a child. Potter had fought them over coming down on the Malfoys again for the sake of picking a little girl apart. Compromises have been made. They will meet Delphini, but later, after the turmoil. Potter and Granger have not said a word of the elf incident. There are no doubts in their minds about what would happen should that ever come out.
So now it's his turn again. He has to somehow convince both his Father and his cousin to share a room for more than five seconds.
X
He is the one person in the house that never touches her. Never holds her, never embraces her, never combs her hair with careful fingers.
He is the one who sometimes doubts. She doesn't know what he doubts, exactly, but it concerns her, that much she knows. She is afraid of that doubt, more than she is afraid of anything else. Because that doubt may be of her place in the family, and that is the one thing she will not forfeit. She will not have her place taken from her. She has nothing else. I'm not a Malfoy, but I do belong here.
Draco brings her to him. They meet on neutral ground, on the room with the piano. Uncle Lucius is standing by a window. She can't help to gulp at the sight of him. She is extremely aware of what may be about to happen, and her magic coils inside her once more. She stops before the door, willing it down to its corner, desperately trying to command it. She decides on a somewhat controlled exhibition, and changes her features to the Malfoy-like girl she used to assume.
There is a concerned squeeze on her hand. Draco closes the door before them, barring them from Uncle Lucius, crouching down in front of her.
"You don't have to do that, Delphie. You don't have to hide."
Except she wants to. She is afraid of her Uncle and there is a voice in her mind that tells her to look like him, that it will help. It also tells her that Draco is her best chance and that she needs him in that room too. She doesn't say a word, simply shaking her head and refusing to let go of his hand when he stands and tells her that she can go in whenever she likes.
There is a plea in her now ice blue eyes. Draco's heart contorts in his chest at that. He understands what she is most afraid of. She is not afraid of being hurt, she is not afraid of being locked away in some room. She is afraid of not being loved. Of not belonging. Of being sent away from her family.
That is why she stands here, refusing to be left alone in the sitting room with Uncle Lucius. Because this may be his chance to tell her she does not belong here.
So she clings to Draco, he will stop him, she knows.
Draco stands with her, holding her shoulders steady as he makes it past the door with her. He exchanges a knowing look with his father and he, in turn, nods his understanding.
X
Lucius struggles at the sight of his niece by the door. She is back to her Malfoy persona and it shatters him silently that he has driven her to it.
He doesn't know where to start.
She is so clearly afraid of the outcome of this that he can feel her fear in the air. And her magic. She doesn't mean it as a threat, he knows, she can't help but to let some of her powers run wild. He is careful not to show fear. He is not even sure he feels it, there's mostly remorse and guilt in his mind.
He crumbles. Allows himself to lean on the window behind him and then slides down, all the way to the floor. He sits there, wrists perched on his knees, palms out, staring at knots and lines in the wood.
When he raises his eyes to the blonde girl, he is aware of the tears there, he feels it as a couple of them come lingering down his face.
"I am sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I don't want to hurt you." He is at a loss for words then. How does one convey such sorrow? He hopes his eyes can do it. "I would never send you away. I would never imprison you. I will never hurt you again. You belong here, you are my family too." What else could he say? He doesn't know how to ask for forgiveness, it's not something Malfoys are taught. So he simply pledges himself to her.
He slowly registers the change in the room. Her magic is better contained. She looks like Bellatrix again, he realizes. She nods. She understands.
He has more than half a mind to get up and embrace Delphini, but touching is so foreign to him that he quickly represses the urge. Not to mention he could startle her. So his eyes turn back down.
It's her who moves. Conquering her fear, just like Narcissa. Untangling from Draco's arms, she takes careful little steps toward him. Then she takes hold of three fingers of his hand. He turns his ice blue eyes to her, and caresses the tiny hand with his thumb. It's a reassurance. It's a promise. An unbreakable vow.
And her eyes turn steel grey in happiness.
X
The last piece of his puzzle has fallen into place seamlessly. Delphini can control her powers around them, but she needs to trust her ability to do so around others. Before the Ministry officials show up. She has been dreading that day since he told her about their upcoming visit.
He invited the girl she had introduced to him at the Christmas party. It feels like decades ago, but he remembers her, Syrianna Pritchard. He remembers a younger boy in Slytherin by that name, the girl's parents had been older students at Hogwarts, he didn't really know them. But they had agreed to a visit so that the girls could play.
He is sitting with them and Astoria, making conversation, when Delphie and Syri, as they call each other, run into the room overly excited about the possibility of taking brooms outside now that it has stopped raining.
"Absolutely not, Syrianna! You are still grounded for another week." The voice of the father is strict. Surprisingly, Delphini doesn't fight the decision, nor does she look at him with pleading eyes.
The kneazle comes inside at that, rubbing against Delphini's legs.
"Who's that?" Syrianna asks, obviously curious about the almost-cat-looking creature.
"Vicious Mist, my kneazle."
"It is very pretty. Can I call it Misty?"
"Do you wish to be expelliarmed through a wall?" The disdain in her voice is almost palpable. Draco snorts at her reprise. "Vicious Mist will do fine. You may call him Vicious once he shows me that he likes you."
Her Mother would have sent a glare and a jolt of hurtful magic. Her Father would have exerted punishment in an even more painful way. She allows her friend the benefit of a warning.
She is different.
His little bird is very different. Both from her parents and from what she used to be. Some of the innocence is gone now. She has lost her first feathers in a rather unpleasant and shocking way, but he can tell that what lies beneath the down, growing, is strong.
Author's Notes: Reviews are always appreciated
To the people who left such kind reviews, thank you so much and I hope you enjoy the rest