Chapter Eight: The Metamorphosis

After the meeting with Nott, they swept through the remainder of the shopping quickly, not daring to bring Elaine into encounter with any other ¡family friends.¡± And they were altogether silent on the streets, especially when Uncle Lucius had veered off the main road into a much darker alleyway, then emerged holding nothing in his hands. The hairs on the back of her neck rose, though she knew not why; of course, it was before the realization struck her that no one knew what was in his pockets.

It could have been anything, anything at all that would fit in those robes. Taking her eyes from a point straight ahead, she flashed a quick glance at his smooth white hands. She was half curious and half afraid, but after the skull incident Elaine no longer dared to explore too much or ask too many questions. It satisfied her to know what might be and speculate on that alone, perhaps even to investigate on her own a little bit without attracting any attention.

As much as she would have preferred to rest and mull over the matter, Elaine found herself thrown into a frenzy like no other once she and Draco had stepped through the manor¡¯s doors. It began when a house elf, or, rather, a crew of house elves seized their bags and scuttled away, the parcels borne above their heads.

She pitied them, particularly the one in the center, who stood a few inches below the rest and stumbled along, knees buckling as though they were not steady enough to support its frail body. In the second before the elf had passed through yet another door, presumably leading to a storage room, Elaine winced and promptly made up her mind to temporarily ignore protocol. Darting forward, she extended a hand and adjusted the package in an attempt to shift the weight.

Simultaneously, the elf looked up and Lucius looked down, and they both shook their heads while trapping her between their relentless stares. And though her hand trembled, she had then learned of another idiosyncrasy of her family¡ªthe beliefs that nonhumans were below their notice.

¡It isn¡¯t supposed to be this way!¡± she cried inside her head as she was led upstairs by a blank-faced Draco, led away from the house elves and the scene that would follow. Once they had reached the third floor, he abruptly wheeled around.

¡Honestly,¡± said Draco, ¡what do you not understand.¡± It was a statement, irate and curt, not the question that her mother would have posed when exhausted from work. ¡House elves are servants, and we¡¯re wizards¡­or at least I thought you were one.¡±

That stopped her, and she furrowed her brows in thought for a moment before declaring quietly, ¡No, because I¡¯m a witch, and¡­and more powerful than them. Just as lucky though.¡± Sighing, Elaine shook her head, and a strand of black hair came untied from the ponytail. Confusion spread through her at the same time, a confusion that she did not expect Draco to understand in the least. No, not even confusion¡­more like simply being unsure of herself like never before.

Already her mind and heart were no longer the same. The vast majority of the time, the mind overruled the heart, an unavoidable occurrence for which she spent uneasy days and restless nights. Always the same question bothered her, and she desperately wanted to know its answer. So simple, yet so important for her sanity.

Was she turning into one of them?

In her bedroom an hour later, Elaine lay on her bed, lazy eyes staring at the door and willing someone to step inside. An entire stack of books rested on the desk, but somehow she could not force herself to focus on spells and languages. Someone, she thought with a sigh, should have told her that the life of the wealthy could be so boring at times. Though she had never expected games, there did need to be some sort of entertainment occasionally.

And Draco? Elaine rolled her eyes childishly as she drew up mental images of the blond prince skimming a Potions volume and thinking about how best to crush the lion in his new game, the one designed to harness thought and transform it into moving pictures. Unfortunately, as she realized, he was far from stupid, but rather more than intelligent enough to finish whatever Lucius assigned, play games, and wander about the manor just to irritate her. While she could understand most of the books given a little time, Draco rarely if ever failed to master a lesson within minutes. Of course Elaine envied him, and like so many other times, there was nothing she could do except turn away from his sneering face.

As if on cue, the door swung open, and she slid off the bed at the shadow of a lanky figure standing in her room. ¡While I am pleased to see you enjoying yourself,¡± said Lucius coldly, ¡there remains the matter of the previous events of the day to be discussed.¡±

¡Yes, Uncle?¡±

¡Come now, you cannot possibly expect your actions to be forgiven.¡± A smile appeared on his hard features, lacking humor except one of slightly cruel amusement.

Hands icy cold, Elaine shook her head but made no sound. With some difficulty, a nervous squeak was suppressed, and any words she could have thought of immediately evaporated, leaving her throat thirsting for a sip of water. And all the while, she felt the man¡¯s steely eyes boring into her soul, stealing any secrets that still remained.

¡No,¡± he continued more softly, although his voice had the same force as before, ¡you will find that every act has a consequence in your life, and far heavier they will be than in your former. For instance, I sincerely hope that you will never again offer sympathies to a mere¡­servant.¡±

During the course of their one-sided conversation, Lucius¡¯ hand had begun to slip to his pockets, and now it grasped a polished wand between strong white fingers. Turning to her once more, he shook his head and said, ¡Perhaps you require a slightly more forceful reminder?¡±

Instantly her throat convulsed, tongue clamped by such a sudden forceful bite that a trickle of coppery blood flowed to the back of her mouth as Elaine fought to remain silent. The lashing pain on her hands lasted for barely a moment, and once she had regained a semblance of composure and glanced at them, the burning red lines crisscrossed on her palms had already started to fade. There had not even been enough time to think, only to squeeze her eyes shut from the horrors of watching Uncle¡¯s pale, unruffled features. When she saw him again, the wand had already been pocketed, and he had almost left.

¡Oh, in my haste I forgot to mention something that may be of importance to you,¡± drawled Lucius as a passing note just before his feet had carried him away. ¡Henceforth, your official name is Laine Callida Kwan. For legal purposes¡­and good luck.¡±

And with his footsteps had gone the last tangible traces of her past. For a while, the new Laine buried her face in a thick pillow and sobbed uncontrollably, the muscle spasms jerking her slight frame into frantic convulsions. Then she sat up painfully, smiled, and looked forward to the future with a fresh and steely determination.

There were bad days, and that had been one of the worst days. But on the other hand, sometimes she found herself content with the dignity and intensity of her new life coursing through her blood. Never happy, of course, but Laine never again saw the sort of jubilation that had been customary in her past life, as she liked to call it now. She enjoyed the calm days, felt herself prick up, intrigued, upon the mention of any news, good or otherwise. She took the turbulent days in stride, storing away the memories in the back of her mind if ever she would need them.

Draco had begun to teach her to fly, and she relished the rush of the wind in her watering eyes, at least once she had learned enough not to look to the ground far away and tremble enough to fall off. Eventually, he had even allowed her to take his own Nimbus 1900 once, racing the scissor-tailed swallows as they sliced through the cool evening air. Laine had laughed quietly as she dove, barely skimming the tallest blades of grass, while Draco merely fired her an amused but impatient look. But that too had evaporated, and the next instant he had pulled himself onto the broom. Unfortunately, their combined weights slowed it to what apparently was an unacceptable speed for ¡Master Malfoy,¡± and his course of action was to push her so that she clung to the tail with white-knuckled fingers, dragging both of them down to the ground. And that had ended the night¡¯s flying, as Aunt had come out at that moment refusing to see her precious son injured.

It mattered little to Draco, however, for he found more than enough to do on the vast expanses of land his father just so happened to own. In exchange for giving up her ¡silly dolls¡±, Laine accompanied him as he wandered outside, trudging through the mud that he rarely deigned to so much as look at and forgetting all concerns of what unlucky being would clean her shoes. Of course, she inevitably talked more as they trotted over the gently sloping hills on the horses, but at least Draco listened part of the time.

And that mattered so much to her.

They passed the idyllic days in much the same manner, spending time between the studies and the many recreational activities, until finally September 1st drew near. The start of term, the start of their entrances into the high wizarding society. The start of their lives, which also determined whether there was any cause for hope later on.

Just before he left for his own room on the night before school began, Draco caught a glimpse of golden light illuminating the crack underneath Laine¡¯s door. Out of curiosity, he pushed it open carefully and saw her oddly small figure barely occupying any room on the bed, as well as a few books, lying closed on her desk. Quietly, he entered his own room, falling onto the bed with a soft sigh. At least she¡¯s learned not to worry¡­he mused briefly, eyes staring into the dark folds of the bed¡¯s curtains, because Malfoys can handle anything.

Then he fell into a deep sleep, the last for some days to come.