Disclaimer/Author's Notes: Harry Potter (the fart), doesn't belong to me, the book and the characters used in this story is copyrighted by the illustrious author that came up with them in the first place, J. K. Rowling. Of course, the original character (Julienna Priscillia Malfoy), belongs to me, and shouldn't be used. AT ALL. Without my permission unless you want heads to roll. Or bodies to transform into stone statues. Fun. Feedback should be sent to qumarsh@hotmail.com, and pwease read and review. Hokay? Thank ya very much. (ALSO KEEP IN MIND THAT I WROTE THIS FANFIC IN AN HOUR, AND WOULD APPRECIATE IT IF YOU TOLD ME IF I DID/SPELT SOMETHING WRONG.) The ending is for a new series that I'm starting (hehe, cliffhangers suck, huh?). It might be called something fruity, but it stars Draco Malfoy. Not Harry Potter. Harry Potter is a fart. Bwhaha.
Father and Mother were both at the hospital, while I was at home with our house-elf, Dobby. Apparently, Mother had already had the baby, and Father had went to take her home. Her name was Julienna. Julienna Priscillia Malfoy. I liked the way the name rolled off my tongue, and I had only caught a glimpse of you. You were wrapped up in a silk blanket (Mother refused to wrap you in nothing else) .. I could see your midnight black hair, your shining green eyes, and your peach-colored skin. Around your neck was a necklace, and in the center there was a sapphire twinkling in the light -- it was just like mine, except that I had an emerald. You were so innocent.
I was only a year old, and in my room when they came home; Dobby was washing the laundry. I was coloring in my "Mythological" Beasts coloring book, using the tip of my wand like Mother had taught me. "Boy," Father shouted, his voice dripping with excitement, and I could almost hear him smile. I was surprised. Father never smiled, nor sounded excited about anything. "Come down and meet your sister! Look what she's doing!"
I did come down from my room, reluctantly. At the time, I didn't have much affection for you. Sure, you were overly cute, and seemed so innocent. Mother was sitting with you on the couch, and you were cooing slightly. In your hand was Father's wand, which you had grabbed from him, and you were bouncing Dobby around. He twirled around with a flick of your hand movement, he called to be let down but you merely giggled and kept on. "Look!" Father pointed again, his usual cold smirk twisted into a smile. "Look what she's doing! And only in a few days! You didn't show signs of magic until a few weeks ago! This girl is going to be the heir of the Malfoy family!"
"What about--" I began.
"What about you?" Father sneered. His cold eyes directed themselves at me, and I shivered. "Who cares about you know that we have Priscillia? She'll be stronger than you could ever be, more skillful at magic. She wouldn't have to attend one of those idiot schools like Hogwarts or Beauxbatons or Durmstrang! She'll be a grand addition to the Death Eaters, when Lord Voldemort comes back, and to the Malfoy family!" His eyes turned back to Julienna (I was the only one to call you that), and I suddenly felt empty inside. Rejected, even. I guess you could call it jealousy.
You suddenly stopped frolicking around with Father's wand, and Dobby was dropped onto the floor with an "Omphf!". He rushed off to complete his task, and Mother merely cried with joy. Father was standing next to her, beaming proudly as he kept on repeating, "We did it Narcissa, we did it!". I felt sickened, so I turned to the stairs and went back to my room, shutting the door silently. I curled up on my bed, and cried myself to sleep.
The next few years weren't anything special. You showed more and more signs of having magic in you. Mother and Father were especially proud of your Transfiguration skills, and they bragged about it to all of their friends. I was overshadowed by you, and so I spent most of my time inside of my room, practicing my magic; manipulating books and such to fly, using only my mind to control my quill for writing on parchment .. it was a special skill of mine, and I never showed it to anyone. I had grown to hate you, loathe the very ground that you walk on. When you passed by my room, I merely pushed you away. When you asked for something, I snapped at you to get it yourself. When you needed help, I told you to use your magic. After all, she had plenty of it.
It was only one day when I had heard something very odd from Mother and Father's room. I was six years old, and you were four. I was passing to go downstairs, and heard their murmuring. "We should sacrifice her to Voldemort," Father. "It would give him a body to be inside of, and he would be further pleased with us. We should do it now, when she has at her full innocence, and before that idiot Quirrell can come. I heard rumors from him in Knockturn Alley, and some babble from an old hag in the Leaky Cauldron gathering."
"Lucius," she hissed. "Turning her into a Death Eater is enough, we don't need to have You-Know-Who possess her too!" Her voice was frantic, as if she were afraid of something and I knew that You-Know-Who was her referring to Voldemort. I didn't know what they were talking about -- I had only heard them mention this Voldemort person and these Death Eater things only a few times. But I leaned in the door, listening carefully to their conversation.
"You're being ridiculous," Father hissed.
"W-what about the boy?!"
"The boy is worthless. The girl is what he wants, what he needs right now. He's at his lowest, and he needs her magic, her Transfiguration to rise again. Don't you remember when we were high generals of the Death Eaters? Besides, his magic is weak. Compared to the girl's, how could you expect him to be anything but a worthless Malfoy?" I trembled, and right then, I decided to go back to my room. I had decided to make it my sanctuary; the place I had went to stay away from the despicable truth.
"Draco," Your voice was coming from the other side of my door, and I was curled up in my bed, sobbing. You were the only one that called me Draco. Mother and Father both called me boy, and the others simply referred to me as, Malfoy. "Draco, what's wong with 'chu?"
I sniffled. "Nothing. Now get the hell away from me." I snapped, burying myself into my pillow.
Instead, you pushed open the door and came into my room, closing it behind you. "Why do you hate me? Is it becuzz of my magic and Twansfigoowation?" You were dragging a little teddy bear behind you -- Mr. Pookie-Hugglesberry, as you called him. I was still curled up in my bed, silent.
"Well, I don't wike my magic," you said. "Mommy and Daddy keep on telling me to pwactice it, when I don't wanna. And when I finally do keep on getting these weird feewings when I pwactice my magic, like someone is twying to force someting inside of me and Daddy keeps on saying, "Let him in, let him in." while Mommy has a scawy look on her face. It feels cold, like a spiwit ghost-ting or someting. But I don't let it in, and then Daddy gets mad at me and sends me to my woom." I was silent. After all, I had no idea what to say, and I had just a tiny little idea what was happening.
She sat on the bed next to me, and I could feel the springs groaning because of the weight on them. I felt her eyes on me. "I wish I could be wike you, Draco. Mr. Pookie-Hugglesberry wants to be wike you too."
"Why?" I asked, my voice more gentle than it was when she first came in.
"Because," she yawned. She curled up next to me, and I felt her teddy bear inbetween us. "Draco?"
"... hm?"
"I wove you," she sighed contently. "And I'll fwind you, just wait. I'll fwind you .." Of course, I had no idea what she was talking about, and I was about to ask her, when I heard her light snoring. She had fallen asleep. I got up, and wrapped some blankets around her before laying back down. I layed there for a few minutes, and as I felt the curtains of sleep drifting over me, I murmured,
"I love you too."
It was the next day when everything was chaos. Mother and Father had some honorable feast-type thing in your honor, and they were racing around, trying to prepare things to be perfect. Wands were flying, sparks were shooting, various things were floating .. Was I the only one there that knew that havoc would come from this? "Go get your sister!" Mother had told me, while trying to redesign the way the Bird of Paradise into something more unique. I climbed up the stairs, careful to pick up my dress robes so that I wouldn't step on them. I opened your door.
And you weren't there.
Father and Mother were both at the hospital, while I was at home with our house-elf, Dobby. Apparently, Mother had already had the baby, and Father had went to take her home. Her name was Julienna. Julienna Priscillia Malfoy. I liked the way the name rolled off my tongue, and I had only caught a glimpse of you. You were wrapped up in a silk blanket (Mother refused to wrap you in nothing else) .. I could see your midnight black hair, your shining green eyes, and your peach-colored skin. Around your neck was a necklace, and in the center there was a sapphire twinkling in the light -- it was just like mine, except that I had an emerald. You were so innocent.
I was only a year old, and in my room when they came home; Dobby was washing the laundry. I was coloring in my "Mythological" Beasts coloring book, using the tip of my wand like Mother had taught me. "Boy," Father shouted, his voice dripping with excitement, and I could almost hear him smile. I was surprised. Father never smiled, nor sounded excited about anything. "Come down and meet your sister! Look what she's doing!"
I did come down from my room, reluctantly. At the time, I didn't have much affection for you. Sure, you were overly cute, and seemed so innocent. Mother was sitting with you on the couch, and you were cooing slightly. In your hand was Father's wand, which you had grabbed from him, and you were bouncing Dobby around. He twirled around with a flick of your hand movement, he called to be let down but you merely giggled and kept on. "Look!" Father pointed again, his usual cold smirk twisted into a smile. "Look what she's doing! And only in a few days! You didn't show signs of magic until a few weeks ago! This girl is going to be the heir of the Malfoy family!"
"What about--" I began.
"What about you?" Father sneered. His cold eyes directed themselves at me, and I shivered. "Who cares about you know that we have Priscillia? She'll be stronger than you could ever be, more skillful at magic. She wouldn't have to attend one of those idiot schools like Hogwarts or Beauxbatons or Durmstrang! She'll be a grand addition to the Death Eaters, when Lord Voldemort comes back, and to the Malfoy family!" His eyes turned back to Julienna (I was the only one to call you that), and I suddenly felt empty inside. Rejected, even. I guess you could call it jealousy.
You suddenly stopped frolicking around with Father's wand, and Dobby was dropped onto the floor with an "Omphf!". He rushed off to complete his task, and Mother merely cried with joy. Father was standing next to her, beaming proudly as he kept on repeating, "We did it Narcissa, we did it!". I felt sickened, so I turned to the stairs and went back to my room, shutting the door silently. I curled up on my bed, and cried myself to sleep.
The next few years weren't anything special. You showed more and more signs of having magic in you. Mother and Father were especially proud of your Transfiguration skills, and they bragged about it to all of their friends. I was overshadowed by you, and so I spent most of my time inside of my room, practicing my magic; manipulating books and such to fly, using only my mind to control my quill for writing on parchment .. it was a special skill of mine, and I never showed it to anyone. I had grown to hate you, loathe the very ground that you walk on. When you passed by my room, I merely pushed you away. When you asked for something, I snapped at you to get it yourself. When you needed help, I told you to use your magic. After all, she had plenty of it.
It was only one day when I had heard something very odd from Mother and Father's room. I was six years old, and you were four. I was passing to go downstairs, and heard their murmuring. "We should sacrifice her to Voldemort," Father. "It would give him a body to be inside of, and he would be further pleased with us. We should do it now, when she has at her full innocence, and before that idiot Quirrell can come. I heard rumors from him in Knockturn Alley, and some babble from an old hag in the Leaky Cauldron gathering."
"Lucius," she hissed. "Turning her into a Death Eater is enough, we don't need to have You-Know-Who possess her too!" Her voice was frantic, as if she were afraid of something and I knew that You-Know-Who was her referring to Voldemort. I didn't know what they were talking about -- I had only heard them mention this Voldemort person and these Death Eater things only a few times. But I leaned in the door, listening carefully to their conversation.
"You're being ridiculous," Father hissed.
"W-what about the boy?!"
"The boy is worthless. The girl is what he wants, what he needs right now. He's at his lowest, and he needs her magic, her Transfiguration to rise again. Don't you remember when we were high generals of the Death Eaters? Besides, his magic is weak. Compared to the girl's, how could you expect him to be anything but a worthless Malfoy?" I trembled, and right then, I decided to go back to my room. I had decided to make it my sanctuary; the place I had went to stay away from the despicable truth.
"Draco," Your voice was coming from the other side of my door, and I was curled up in my bed, sobbing. You were the only one that called me Draco. Mother and Father both called me boy, and the others simply referred to me as, Malfoy. "Draco, what's wong with 'chu?"
I sniffled. "Nothing. Now get the hell away from me." I snapped, burying myself into my pillow.
Instead, you pushed open the door and came into my room, closing it behind you. "Why do you hate me? Is it becuzz of my magic and Twansfigoowation?" You were dragging a little teddy bear behind you -- Mr. Pookie-Hugglesberry, as you called him. I was still curled up in my bed, silent.
"Well, I don't wike my magic," you said. "Mommy and Daddy keep on telling me to pwactice it, when I don't wanna. And when I finally do keep on getting these weird feewings when I pwactice my magic, like someone is twying to force someting inside of me and Daddy keeps on saying, "Let him in, let him in." while Mommy has a scawy look on her face. It feels cold, like a spiwit ghost-ting or someting. But I don't let it in, and then Daddy gets mad at me and sends me to my woom." I was silent. After all, I had no idea what to say, and I had just a tiny little idea what was happening.
She sat on the bed next to me, and I could feel the springs groaning because of the weight on them. I felt her eyes on me. "I wish I could be wike you, Draco. Mr. Pookie-Hugglesberry wants to be wike you too."
"Why?" I asked, my voice more gentle than it was when she first came in.
"Because," she yawned. She curled up next to me, and I felt her teddy bear inbetween us. "Draco?"
"... hm?"
"I wove you," she sighed contently. "And I'll fwind you, just wait. I'll fwind you .." Of course, I had no idea what she was talking about, and I was about to ask her, when I heard her light snoring. She had fallen asleep. I got up, and wrapped some blankets around her before laying back down. I layed there for a few minutes, and as I felt the curtains of sleep drifting over me, I murmured,
"I love you too."
It was the next day when everything was chaos. Mother and Father had some honorable feast-type thing in your honor, and they were racing around, trying to prepare things to be perfect. Wands were flying, sparks were shooting, various things were floating .. Was I the only one there that knew that havoc would come from this? "Go get your sister!" Mother had told me, while trying to redesign the way the Bird of Paradise into something more unique. I climbed up the stairs, careful to pick up my dress robes so that I wouldn't step on them. I opened your door.
And you weren't there.