A MISERABLE JOURNEY
The journey to Hogwarts was long and miserable for Drusilla. She spent the entire trip staring out the window, letting the colours of the countryside blur into grey as the train sped through the afternoon and into the evening. It was moments like this when her usually disciplined mind wandered carelessly into territory she'd rather it didn't.
Her mother was dead. Her young, beautiful, selfish mother was dead.
And it was tearing her apart.
She didn't fool herself that Bijoux's death was accidental, as she had been told. Nobody could have 'accidentally' killed Bijoux Lacroix. No, what had happened to her mother was calculated and deliberate. It was murder.
Drusilla wrapped her cloak tighter around herself as the sky outside darkened. She thought distractedly of her uncle and cousin. So stupid and weak. Draco, his father's underling and a slave to his Hogwarts house. He would never achieve his full potential, and Drusilla wanted so badly to tell him this. But she wouldn't let herself. She was a strategist – she would not expend energy unnecessarily, merely for her own temporary pleasure. Drusilla was awfully good at biting her tongue and biding her time.
And Lucius – servant to the Dark Lord; a mere minion in the scheme of things. Her uncle was completely and totally blind to the big picture, just as her father had been. But still, he was clever, cunning and resourceful – a Slytherin in every sense of the word. Drusilla made a mental note not to underestimate Lucius Malfoy.
Draco, however, was a different story. Drusilla was revolted by the way he had attempted to assert his supremacy over her. 'Under NO CIRCUMSTANCES are you to sit with anyone from Gryffindor, do you understand?' As if she had wanted to sit with any one of the children on this train. She suspected that Lucius had told Draco that he was in command in his father's absence; that he was responsible for keeping tabs on Drusilla and making sure she did not behave in a manner unbecoming a Malfoy.
But Drusilla Lacroix, as she had called herself since her father's death, did not consider herself a Malfoy. And with the death of her mother freshly stinging in her mind, she vowed to honour the Lacroix name, to uphold the Lacroix family beliefs. She pulled out the silver locket she was wearing beneath her robes and opened it reverently. The face inside smiled at her approvingly; her mother's dark eyes and hair were almost a reflection of her own.
"Je vous aime, Bijoux," she said softly. "Bonne nuit, ma mere."
