Chapter Two: Pure Imagination

The morning was covered in thick grey clouds. Lilin was roused by a House Elf with a grubby oven mitt worn as a dress and a high pitched voice. It was lighting a fire in the fire place and Lilin noticed it had brought a tray of food for her.

Roughly she threw the covers off herself then, remembering her nakedness, bundled them up against her body again. She caught the attention of the House Elf who hastily threw its matches into the fire and disappeared with a pop. She was glad it had been close to lighting the fire before it disappeared, the matches set it off enough so as it wouldn't die out.

She quickly threw the many layers off blankets off herself once more, after checking around to make sure there were no more servants in the room, and began rummaging through her small backpack for suitable clothes. Once she had dressed she sat down by the fire and began stoking it, trying her best to warm the room.

Once she was content with the fire she stood up and drew the drapes away from the huge glass doors. She had been correct in presuming it had led to a balcony. The balcony looked over a neatly manicured garden which surrounded a magnificent water fountain, the fountain wasn't in use at the moment, and Lilin presumed it was filled when the Malfoy's had guests or held parties.

When she had finished admiring the garden she left the room with no real destination in mind. She began to idly wander the maze of hallways which made up the Malfoy mansion and, in less than a few minuets, became lost amongst the identical doors and paintings which whispered to each other in tongues. Out of desperation she slipped through an ordinary looking door, much like the one which led to her own room.

The room beyond the door looked as ordinary as hers. The same canopy bed, the same stout table laden with food, the same gaudy peach coloured drapes. Looking at the unmade bed and chalky, coal black fire place, Lilin almost believed she had found her own room.

From the bathroom, however, a voice began to hum a tune vaguely familiar to her ears. She thought about turning around and leaving when, in place of the humming a rough voice began to sing the lyrics that matched the tune.

"If you want to view paradise,"

She recognised the voice to be Draco and, while his voice seemed rough he managed to hold a tune,

"Simply look around and view it.

Anything you want to, do it.

Want to change the world, there's nothing to it."

"If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it."

"Cain, please, stop,"

"Anything you want to, do it,"

"Cain why? What are you doing?"

"Want to change the world, there's nothing to it."

Pain wracked her body, her arms, her face, her stomach, and every point he had scratched and cut with the blade. She could hear her agonizing torture roaring in her ears, could taste it on the roof of her mouth. Her nostrils filled with the sweet metallic stench of her own blood. His weapon of choice shone red in the candlelight, gleaming with a ghoulish lustre.

As he brought it down upon the hands that vainly attempted to protect her body his voice rang clean and pure through the otherwise deserted house.

"There is no life I know to compare with pure imagination."

She screamed as the point dug into her skin, spilling blood, adding to the puddle which grew beneath her. He, however, did not hear them. So lost in his imagination world that even the suffering of his sibling became utter nonsense.

"Living there you'll be free,"

And then, as if a long lost secret had revealed itself in her mind, she knew the answer. She knew how to stop the pain, the roaring, red, metallic pain which made her throat hoarse from screaming and her head light. She closed her eyes and began to drift away, lost in her own imagination. The pain became no more.

"If you truly wish to be…"

"Can I help you?" Lilin was broken from her reverie by Draco's slightly irritated voice.

She blinked at his towel covered form. His skin was as white as milk, marred by nothing but the slight imprint of his ribs. She had never seen him clad in less than thick London robes and it suddenly occurred to her how skinny he really was. So petite, so fragile, so like a porcelain doll; if it weren't for his cold, dark gaze she would have mistaken him for a thing of beauty.

"Get out of my room."

She blinked at him once before retreating back to the hallway. Why did he remind her so much of Cain? They couldn't be more different. Draco was so petite and his eyes so filled with emotion. He was witless and probably not as intelligent as he liked to believe. Cain had been the exact opposite. Cain had been brutal, relentless, and insane. Draco was nothing like that.

She didn't notice him leave the room until his porcelain framed eyes filled her vision. His lips were pink and his cheeks flushed from the heat of the water he had been bathing in.

"What are you doing?" He asked trapping her up against the wall with his arm. She let her gaze flick around him, searching for an escape.

"I'm looking for your father," She replied at length, finally resting her eyes on his. They were so cold, like an autumn wind whipping against her face. She shuddered inwardly.

"Good luck," His voice was laced with sarcasm but she didn't mind, he removed his arm from the wall near her head and began making his way down the hall. She followed after a moment's hesitation.

At the end of the hallway there was an elevator which they gained access to by pulling back two large latticed gates. Once they were inside and the gate secured them in it began moving downward. How it knew they were heading down was beyond her, she wasn't even sure herself if she was supposed to be going down.

Once the gate was reopened the sparkling lobby greeted them. A piano was being played somewhere and the soft, gloomy melody carried through the marble room. She shivered slightly, amazed at her weakness to these strange haunted scenes. Like a nightmare mixed and mingled with a horror movie until she could no longer tell where she was, lost in this frightening reality.

Draco's voice was the soft, sultry tone of the killer.

"Are you coming?" She exited the elevator, edging her way around Draco and cringing away from his stare.

"Ah, just the lady I wanted to see," And now she was cornered, Lucius appeared at the foot of the sweeping marble staircase a grin on his face and malice in his eyes. For a moment she became scared, what would they do with her here in this pristine hall? With its eerie music and its glistening chandeliers it did seem the place to commit defilement. Were Lucius and Draco ever what they seemed?

"You look pale my dear, is there something on your mind?" Lucius was by her side when she was pulled from her thoughts, she could have sworn she jumped back slightly but he didn't notice.

"I'm okay," She answered once she realised he had been expecting just that.

"Of course," He replied disinterestedly, "now, I suppose you think me rude for not having shown you my manor. Let me assure you I have every intention, however, as it so turns out I have been weighed down with work and unfortunately have little time on my hands. So, in my place I will have Draco give you a tour, you'll find our likenesses astounding." He laughed slightly at his joke, "You're school supplies will be sent to your room for inspection, we leave for King Cross station tomorrow morning at nine o'clock."

He took one last look into her eyes before departing, leaving her feeling hollow and used. When he had disappeared up the staircase Draco slinked to her side, a sneer marring his otherwise perfect features.

"You know, father wouldn't know if I left you here, he thinks he knows everything but he's wrong. If you want to see the house its right there," He waved his arm toward the staircase and strode off in the opposite direction.

She watched his back until it disappeared around a corner and then followed the sound of the piano melody. She wandered long, taking in as much of the surroundings as possible. It occurred to her that this was the first time she had been in an old English manor, mainly because she had spent the majority of her life in Australia, in a farm house. It was no wonder she felt out of place, scared and confused.

She both envied and pitied the Malfoy's. They had vast amounts of money and the freedom to do with it what they pleased. At the same time, however, there was a confinement that came with such things, a lack of appreciation for the small things, the things which essentially made up life. Their wealth was both a blessing and a burden.

When the corridor she had been walking down opened to a brightly light sitting room it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the light. Once it had, she located the source of the eerie music. On a polished black piano a woman with the same milky white skin and platinum hair as Draco played with the grace and ease of an angel. The sun from the glass windows poured in and surrounded her like a halo. She looked up at Lilin without faltering in the least, her Irish green eyes locking onto Lilin's. They were the first eyes she had seen since her coming to England that had any hint of emotion. The woman smiled and Lilin returned it with sincerity.

The woman continued playing until her song was finished then immediately turned to Lilin, her lips and eyes smiling.

"Good Morning," She said, her voice matching her physique, beautiful, "You must be Lilin,"

She stood from the piano and walked gracefully over to Lilin. She placed one softy milky hand on Lilin's chin and tilted her head so slightly, peering intently into her eyes. The smile never faded once from her face

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen,"

"Ah, yes, so young and pretty." A far away look swept over her face and her smile faltered only slightly, "How I wish I were eighteen again."

She let go of Lilin's chin and began circling her. Once again Lilin felt trapped, being sized up by her predator, and she shifted uncomfortably. She tried not to make her unease too obvious; she didn't want to giver the woman a reason to attack.

"Yes, very pretty," She stopped in front of Lilin and smiled once more, "My name is Narcissa; it's nice to meet you."

Lilin nodded her head once, fearing to say anything to lead Narcissa to believe she was afraid. A servant of Voldemort wasn't afraid.

"You are afraid." Narcissa said at length, increasing Lilin's fear, "Tell me child, what it is you fear."

Lilin only stared, eyes wide, in reply. She knew what she was afraid of, knew if she did not relay that information she would have more of a reason to be afraid. Yet words failed her, as they had done so many times before. So she stared in the hope that Narcissa would notice her discomfort and let her go.

  "Do not be afraid to speak with me child, there is fear in all of us."

Lilin could hear the slightest hint of an Irish accent in Narcissa's voice, as if she was trying to suppress it but emotion had taken over and she had forgotten her place. Her father had that same discomfort with his birth land, had denied it completely. Lilin never found out why.

"The Dark Lord is a force to be feared," Narcissa continued, the accent becoming more prominent and, if Lilin were not mistaken, tears welling up in her eyes, "I've found it comforting to speak of my fear, though none listen."

Lilin clenched her jaw, taking in the woman's suddenly frail stance and emotional eyes. She realised now why Lucius and Draco looked the way they did, why everyone she had met looked the way they did. The Dark Lord was not a force to be reckoned with, and they knew that better than any. The weight of the dead and enslaved lay heavily upon their shoulders, the blood of innocents stained their hands.

Narcissa, it seemed, had been sheltered from this as best as was possible. She was still capable of showing emotion; her involvement with the Dark Lord was limited. She was free to feel her fear, her love, everything which Lucius lacked, everything she, in time, would lack as well. The thought only increased her fear, and Narcissa, it seemed, could sense it.

"Child, you must not become lost in the Dark Lords promises. You must free yourself, leave this forsaken country. None who remain will live to see brighter days."

Narcissa's eyes were alight with emotion and fear. Fear for herself, fear for her husband, and fear for her child, whom she knew was beyond saving. Apprehension had tightened her nerves and her hands were now shaking in front of her, despite being clasped together tightly.

It was this image which hardened Lilin's resolve. She nodded at Narcissa and left her sprawled on the tiled floor, her body paralysed with tears. If following orders from the Dark Lord, becoming a minion of the Dark Lord, would rid her of the emotions which brought a grown woman to her knees, she would serve him like a house elf. If destroying the lives of people she would never know, and whom would never know her meant ridding herself of the memories which haunted her in sleep and waking, then she'd become a firestorm of terror.

She found her room full of books and supplies for the new school year, laid out neatly on her freshly made bed. In one corner her old battered backpack huddled. She ignored everything else and made a beeline for the backpack. From it she withdrew her wand, twirling it nimbly around her fingers.

With her mind repeating to her the image of Narcissa, her fear fill eyes, and the thought of never again feeling those emotions she began making her way toward Draco's room. The door she arrived at looked like the others surrounding it, but her confidence never wavered. As she reached for the knob, the door flew open and she was greeted once again by Draco's steely eyes.

"What do you want?" He questioned

"Take me to your father," She ordered, holding her wand up to his chest.

"That's a nice looking wand but, unless you've forgotten you're not allowed to use magic out of school." Draco replied, knocking her wand away from his chest and moving around her.

"And unless you've forgotten," She answered, blocking his path and once again raising her wand; "I'm quite old and experienced enough to use magic. Now take me to your father."

For a moment Draco's eyes flickered and she was certain she saw a hint of fear. But as fast as it had come it vanished and his eyes were once again steel.

"Fine," He muttered

He led her once again to the elevator which took them up a story to a rich corridor with carved wooded walls inlaid with copper and gold. The corridor led to a plain door which was adorned by only a brass serpent knocker. Draco practically pushed her out of the elevator and, as the elevator disappeared down the chute, he sneered at her, his eyes full of contempt.

Before her tenacity could falter she began making her way down the hall, ignoring the carvings and small intricacies which would have otherwise distracted her. When she reached the door she didn't hesitate to bang loudly on the knocker. The moment she let go of the brass ring the door creaked open and from inside Lucius' voice beckoned her.

She entered, not the slightest bit nervous or wary, with her wand in hand.

"How can I help you?" He asked from behind a large desk, eyeing her wand with interest.

"Teach me to kill."