Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. All the new characters and situations are mine, my own.

Warning: fic contains sexual situations, profanity and things not suitable for children under the age of thirteen.     

This fic is about Draco Malfoy – Harry Potter – and a vision in purple that comes to make him hers. It will not be too long of a fic, probably five chapters in all. Read, give it a chance, and enjoy. Don't forget to leave me a review for my hard efforts.

She

Part one:

The first time I saw her, I was but fourteen. I was with my father, my mother not too far away. She seemed too tall and too beautiful, too pale, too bright, too freckly. She wore a most unusual outfit, a purple dress that showed off her pale shoulders and arms. The bodice was tight but then the dress flared out and hovered around her. She wore purple boots with it; they reached her knees and met the hem of the dress. Her hair was tied up high and I remember thinking that I wanted to untie it so it could reach her bottom – where I thought it would reach.

At the age of fourteen, I was short for my age, I was pale and blond. My eyes were grey and I was another Lucius in the making. My mother would fuss over me, brush my hair, take me to the tailors, buy me expensive trinkets and shoes from Italy. Take me to lunch in France. She'd oo, ah and aw at me. Her friends would call me a 'darling,' a 'sweetheart'; they'd say that I'd catch women like flies to honey in another few years. They'd get their children to play with me, to see me, to sit with me, to talk with me. To be like me.

She came to us at the Quidditch World Cup. We were up in the box and she'd come when the game was over. In her purple dress and purple shoes. Her hair was alight and her eyes were deeply stagnant then. She came into the box and curtsied to my mother and father.

From the way my father's eyes skimmed over her, I knew he was considering her for his bed even as my mother stood beside him. From the way that my mother nodded towards her with a small smile, the way that Narcissa commented on the woman's unusual dress, I knew that my mother instantly despised the girl that baffled her. To my mother's comments, the woman only smiled and inclined her head. Eyes stagnant still, and cold. But she was beautiful and even at my age I knew that men wanted her for their bed and women wanted her dead.

She'd stood before me and took my hand with two of her fingers.

'Malfoy,' she stated, 'what Malfoy?'

'Draco,' I said. I felt like it important to make her remember that, I felt it important that she remember me. She'd smiled in that mysterious, electrifying way of hers. It wasn't a smile, nothing happy like the girls at school; it wasn't a smirk like the one my father had taught me. It was a considering. No consideration of feelings but that of persons. She considered me then, now I know, considered what I could mean to her, what I could do for her, how she could use me.

She touched my hair and looked up at my father.

'A china doll, just like a china doll,' she said to my mother, who nodded.

She looked back down at me and this time her smile was fire in me. It was amused and wicked; her eyes were no longer dead swamps of green moss but flickering emeralds. The change was unnerving, and part of me felt like snatching my hand and backing away; the other part wanted to go with her where she would take me. And that I did. She asked my father if he'd let her introduce me to her friends and he nodded. I was sure then that Lucius wished her for his bed, for the way he'd skimmed the bare skin of her shoulders, that pretty stiff neck and the top of those freckled breasts made me want her too.

I was but fourteen, and for the first time, I discovered this new feeling. This new part of me that wanted. Not just to touch and skim but to have. To own. To own her.

She took my hand like an older sister and walked out of the top box. She walked down the stairs and across the now empty Quidditch field, then she stopped. She turned to me and kneeled down. I was now looking down at her, down her dress, getting a better look at her shoulders. The shoulders that I so wanted to get a hold of and caress.

'Draco, that's it,' she said, and I'd thought she was about to scold me, but I couldn't think of what I'd done wrong. 'We're friends now.'

She got up and quickly walked away with me. I was running as she pulled me by the hand and when we reached the other side of the stadium, her friends were there. They were in a small room, one reserved for water boys and extra chairs. They were sitting, as if they were waiting. They were talking and laughing, but I felt their waiting. I did not know what they waited for and till this day I am not sure, but for that second I felt like they waited for me and her.

When she came in, they greeted her like old friends. The women kissed her cheeks and the men attempted to fondle her but she pushed them away with flirtatious hands and winking eyes. All her friends were dressed like her, the women in puffy revealing dresses, fancy hair, dusty make up and glittering precious stones. The men wore expensive suites, shiny shoes, thick capes and with their hair long and shiny.

When the room had calmed down, she stood behind me and they all watched us. She dropped to her knees next to me and ran her hands on my arms, my shoulders, my chest and finally cupped my chin. Her hands were tiny and slight but strong. She came close enough to kiss my cheek and ran her lips over the invisible barrier around me that seemed to be keeping her away. The people in the room – her friends – watched with amused and wicked eyes – just like hers. The women licked their lips and undressed me with their eager eyes, the men smirked and leaned forward.

'This is Draco Malfoy. My new china doll,' she whispered to me. Not to the room, to me. I wanted her to whisper to me, I felt lucky to hear her whispers. I knew nothing of this woman, not her name, not even her age, all I knew was the way she touched me. The firm and pleasing way her hands ran up my arms and her breath lingered on my skin. The way her pouted lips nearly blessed me.

They applauded her and she chuckled. It wasn't a happy one, but a triumphant one. The women came and knelt by me, touched my face, oohed and ahed, touched my hair and gasped. They felt my clothes, my chest through them and told her what a prize I will be for her.  She smiled that cold smile of hers.

She got up and took my hand. We walked back across the field to the box where we stopped outside. She leaned down again and placed her hands on my shoulders. For the first time I noticed them, they where very pale, just like the rest of her. They were elegant and delicate. Like pianist's hands, like one who drew with paint on canvases, or like one who fenced and killed ruthlessly. She rubbed my shoulders and it soothed me. I wanted her to; I wanted her at the age of fourteen. I did not know that my feelings for this older woman were wrong. Nor did I know that it was a start of an obsession.

'Draco, I'm your friend.' She said this very slowly as if I were five, and it infuriated me, but that was only what I thought. I thought I was angry but I wasn't, I was too caught up in her face to be anything. I was caught up in her flawless skin, the way it was pale but promised soft caresses, the way it was tight and spoke of expensive beauty. Her eyes were green and they reminded me of grass when it rained and the droplets hang on to every strand until the wind blew and the droplets splattered. Her eyes were trusting, I don't now how at the age of fourteen I found trust in them, but I did. Her lips were pouted and shiny with the pale creamish lipstick that she wore. She looked like a virgin all together. Untouched. I thought of her as being ceramic, no, porcelain. Yes, porcelain. She was porcelain and I was china. We were together and fragile.

'I'll come for you at Hogwarts, I'll come at night and spend time with you. I'll be your friend. Don't tell anyone of my coming or I won't come. Do you understand me, petal?' 

I nodded and she gave me another of her smiles. The ones that spoke of tales of glorious battles. The ones that were triumphant. She gave it to me. Gave me it. Gave me it. She gave me her smile and I wanted it to be mine alone. I didn't want anybody to see it but me, I didn't want her to give it to anybody else. At fourteen, I did not know that I was pining for her, for her skin against mine, for the soft moistness of the place where I wished to slide. She held my shoulders firmly and brought my body to hers, kissed my cheeks with a soft brush for her lips and then released me.

You must understand, at the age of fourteen I was knowledgeable in many areas but not that of women. I was used to my mother's friends, those rich snobs but not someone like this woman. I had never been given attention like this, I had been touched and gasped over but not like this. I don't know how her treatment of me differed from other women, but it was different and I was too… I didn't feel in my territory, you could say, to be in control and demand to know what she was about.

She got up and, taking my hand like a child, she walked with me back into the box where Lucius waited for us. He rose when he saw us and a smug smirk spread over his face.

'They loved him,' she said and let go of my hand as I took my place next to him.

'Will we be seeing you again?'

'Perhaps.'

He took her hand, and kissed it. His eyes spoke volumes that I did not hear at fourteen, but she, at twenty-two, smirked. 'Perhaps,' she said again and I knew my father would bed her when he got the chance. I didn't want him to; I wanted her to remain untouched. At the age of fourteen I couldn't explain it, but I knew that I wanted her to remain untouched for me. Me.

She walked away.

My father hurried me along and I hated him for thinking of her that way. For thinking of her in any way.

*

At night, in my bed, I dream of her. She comes to me like she promised. I see her not only in my dreams but at night, by the lake.

She sits with me and asks me questions. She listens to me as I answer about school, my friends, the things I like and dislike, my hobbies, my childhood, if I liked any girls. When I told her how I hated Harry Potter, she told me to be patient. When I told her how his friends annoyed me and I wanted to murder them, she told me to think rationally. She let me ask her questions too.

She said she was twenty-two. She was very rich. Her family was originally from Ireland. She'd moved out of home when she was seventeen. Her name was Annabel.

My Annabel.

It never occurred to me to ask her what she wanted. Why she came to me, why she told me we were friends, what that meant. I was only mesmerized by her beauty, by her bloodied hair, by her soft pale skin, by her sharp collarbones, her pointy nose like a pixie's, her emerald eyes and that aura of delicacy and fragility that she carried. 

I felt like she was my secret. Mine. I wasn't to let anybody near her. She was mine alone and often in class or in the Great Hall, a smile would curve my lips. She was mine and nobody else knew about her but me. I was above everybody else because I had something they didn't, couldn't have, weren't even able to dream up in the wildest of their dreams.

I felt smug.

At the end of my fifth year, after the Department of Mysteries incident, she came to me. I was angry, I loved my father, I respected him, I looked up to him and I wanted to be like him. It killed me to know that a mere fifteen year old boy and an old wizard could put away my father. I loved him and I wanted vengeance.

Much, much later, many years later, when I sit down to write this, I think over it. Think over this moment. I realise that I hadn't been angry because my father had been sent to prison but because I wanted to be like him. I wanted to be like a man who was fool enough to be caught and sent to prison.

When she came to me, she was dressed in peach. It suited her skin, her porcelain skin, enhanced by the light shade of the material. It was a puffy dress, her arms and shoulders showing like they always were. Everything she wore, her pale arms and shoulders were showing. Her dress puffed out and she wore shoes like a ballerina. Her hair was tied up high and I wanted to wrap my hands around her thin neck. I wanted to be that ruby necklace that hugged her throat.

She led me to the Quidditch field, holding my hand like she always did. When we reached the middle of it, she stopped and looked down at me. Her smile was talking to me. I told you so, I knew this would happen. I'm always right. For the first time, she angered me. I pushed her away when she tried to lay a hand on my cheek. She wasn't hurt by it; she only smiled like one would at a small feline doing a trick it hadn't done before. I stopped and breathed deeply, looking up at the dark sky that was adorned with glowing crystals.

'You won't find your answers there. Mortals always look up at the sky and beg for answers but they never find them. You think God will answer your pleas but he won't. The sky won't give you vengeance. Those sparkles are just there, they have no abilities, they can't help you. Only you could give you vengeance. And I, I could give you vengeance.' She spoke from behind me; her breath was on my neck like always. I turned to her then, and she put both of her hands on my shoulders.

'You've grown,' she said. 'You're almost as tall as me now.' And I was, I reached her shoulders. Her smooth shoulders. It frustrated me how she spoke to me like I was just a child. Just a little boy who didn't understand. She saw that in my eyes and took a step closer. 'You'll be a man tomorrow, you'll be all grown up.'

'Will you still come to me?' I felt it important to know. She'd never told me anything about growing up and she was my guardian, I had to have her approval on everything. If she would leave me because I had become a man then I won't become one. I'll stay a child forever.

'You'll always be my china doll.' She touched my hair briefly and then turned and walked away and sat down on the grass. I walked to her and she took me in her lap. She let me rest my head on her bosom, I sat in the V of her legs and she played with my hair. She smelled of honeysuckle. I still remember now.

We sat like this for a long time, I imagined we looked like lovers. She glowed in her peach coloured dress and porcelain skin. Her hair was an amazing contrast, the colour of blood.

As I thought of her, I found my hand on her knee as I pushed up her dress. I sat up a little, my arm supporting me on her side. She said nothing, she was staring at the sky as if she now searched for answers. I brought my lips to her knee and kissed it there. Her skin was just like I'd imagined, soft and scented. I kissed a little higher and than higher than that. I rubbed her thigh with my hand and I felt a tremor go through me. She was what I'd been waiting for. Beauty, grace…infidelity.

I was fifteen but I felt like I knew what to do. I nipped and sucked on her skin, I kissed and caressed it with my hands. Her thigh fascinated me; pale, soft, round and developed.

She wasn't like the girls in my year, she was more, more woman. And a whole lot of woman she was. I remember thinking, if I'm this excited with her thigh, imagine what I could do with the rest of her. Something plunged through me and my loins tightened. I knew then that it wasn't just lust, I wasn't just wanting to touch her because she was older than me or more beautiful then any other woman. I didn't just want to undress her because I was fifteen and wanted to explore the gentler sex.

I found that I'd slowly fallen in love with her.

I loved her like I still do today.

I pushed her dress further until her thigh started to widen to meet her hips under her skirts. I couldn't see anymore, but I could imagine it and this sent a need to my hands.

She felt it; she felt my need as I caressed her thigh and tasted her skin. She looked at me and smiled, just another of her cold smiles. She put a hand at the nape of my neck and with her fingers played with the ends of my hair. She brought her head forward and I thought she was going to kiss me but she didn't. She placed a soft kiss on my nose and smiled.

'The sun is rising, I must go. Do not do anything that you'll regret, there will come a time when I will allow you your vengeance.'  With this, she got up and walked away. I watched her until she was but a speck in the distance.