Disclaimer: Any names, places, thoughts, etc. related to the
Harry Potter books series belong to JK Rowling, not I.
In a cheerful, upbeat town not
twenty miles from London lived a wealthy, publicly kind family, consisting of a
father, three strong, intelligent boys, and a small, quiet little girl. And at
this time, the family was sitting comfortably in their great dining room,
eating a large, rich dinner, which covered the entire table.
The father
sat at the front of the table, his two oldest boys closest to him, and the
other children next to them. They were all beaming, and chatting, and laughing
delightfully.
This family you have gotten a small
description of, the friendly, happy family, is the Venusheart family. The father, whose name was Abraham, was a
respected, well-known man of the area, who had a reputation of being a
charismatic, child-loving man. The three boys, all well built and handsome,
were very much like their father. The two oldest, Basil and Caden, were strong
and esteemed, while the youngest boy, Liam, usually shied away from the
public's eye, and kept a close eye on his sister. Now, the little girl in the
family was nothing like her father and oldest brothers, and only had one trait
of Liam. Gwyneth was her name, and she was a tiny, beautiful little thing. She
was very quiet, and very tranquil.
If you
looked at this family all together, you would know they were related. Well, let
me rephrase that. If you saw the men of the family, you would know they were
kin. They were all tall, strapping, tanned, and dark haired. Gwyneth, however,
was small, slender, and lithe, with pale, fair skin, and golden blonde,
lustrous locks, falling past her shoulders.
Now, let us
get back to the Venusheart's supper…
"Father, you
seemed a bit gloomy when you got home today. What could have happened while you
were at work?" Basil said concerned, as he put some food on his plate.
"You wouldn't believe the day I
had, Basil!" Abraham sighed. "That Lucius Malfoy has been bragging about
how absolutely smart his boy Draco is. It's given me a bloody headache."
"His boy is just starting school
this year, right father?" Caden asked.
"Yes, yes.
His son is the same age as Gwyneth." Abraham responded.
Liam and
Gwyneth jerked their heads up when Gwyneth's name was mentioned.
"Who is
this we are speaking of? Mr. Malfoy's son?" Liam questioned.
"Yes, Liam,
Lucius's son, Draco." Basil answered.
Gwyneth
tilted her head to the side, thinking. "I know who he is." She said in her soft,
feminine voice.
Everyone
looked at her, surprised. She rarely ever spoke.
"I—I met
him at the company Christmas party last year, when the children had to leave
the room. He's rather rude, and somewhat conceited." Gwyneth explained.
Abraham
smiled, and leaned back in his chair. "Ah, of course dear, he's a Malfoy!" He
exclaimed.
Everyone
but Gwyneth roared with laughter.
Later that
evening, Gwyneth walked down the candle lit corridor leading to her father's
study. Her brothers were in their rooms, studying, but Gwyneth needed to talk
to her father. So Gwyneth continued down the hall, in her white cotton
nightdress, her bare feet making a soft patter against the wooden floor.
When she
made it to her destination, she gently knocked on the door.
There was
no answer.
Knock,
knock. She repeated her action.
"Go back to
your studies, Basil!" Her father's voice came. Basil frequently bothered his
father at night.
"F—father
it's Gwyneth." Gwyneth said quietly.
Inside the
room there was a rustling sound, then footsteps filled Gwyneth's ears. A moment
later, Abraham opened his door, and let his daughter in. Gwyneth shyly entered,
and followed her father to his chair. Abraham sat, and stared at his daughter.
"Yes,
sweetheart?" He said tenderly.
Gwyneth was
silent for a moment, thinking of what to say.
Finally,
after a few uncomfortable moments, Gwyneth looked up, her deep, dark blue eyes
bearing into her father.
"Why do I
not fit into this family?" She whispered.
Author's Note: That, my friends, is the first chapter. I
hope you all enjoyed it. Please, if you must flame, do so gently, or you could
break my eleven year old heart.
