PROLOGUE
Vanessa Edgecombe belonged to a different race. You saw it in her tall, slender figure, her silky, waist-length honey-brown hair, her long-lashed, sparkling blue eyes. You saw it in her mysterious, red-lipped smile and her soft, charming voice. And when she gave you her long aristocratic fingers and bent her head in a graceful nod, you realized that she was the purest of the purebloods, the only daughter of the great English billionaire who was the most faithful follower of the greatest Dark Wizard of all time…Lord Voldemort.
He was powerful and rich…so the Ministry could not come after him. The perfect Death Eater.
She lived in a large white mansion perched atop a mammoth hill behind astute iron gates, separated from the Malfoy Manor by a high ivy-laden brick wall that could shimmer away into nothingness when a true follower of the Dark Lord laid a finger on it. It had a swimming pool and riding grounds and tennis courts and lush rolling meadows full of natural beauty, and separate houses for the French and Russian tutors who taught Vanessa etiquette, piano, dancing, and riding during the summer holidays. In other words, the heiress of Edgecombe House was fabulously wealthy.
"Mistress Edgecombe." A house-elf peered over Vanessa's bed, tugging gently on the covers of her four-poster silk-pillowed bed.
"What?" Annoyed, Vanessa moved her head out of the warm lavendar satin blankets and glared at the rag-wearing house-elf. "It's eight-thirty on a holiday morning, for God's sake!"
The house-elf moved away, looking frightened and talking volubly. "Blinky begs your pardon, Miss, Blinky did not mean to wake you up, only my lady, your mother, she sends Blinky to your room to tell you that she wants to take you to London today."
"Uggh," Vanessa groaned. She picked up a unicorn-feathered wand from her mahagony dressing table and waved it at the curtains, snapping them closed so that the bright sunlight stopped hurting her eyes. On any other day she would have passed up even the oppurtunity to shop this early in the morning, but next week was the first day of her last year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Everything needed to look perfect – she was a Prefect this year, after all. She had a reputation to uphold. "Fine. Give me breakfast in bed. Now."
Another house-elf wheeled a silver trolley into the room, creaking with porcelain dishes and dishes full of food. Vanessa picked out a plate of waffles decorated with rose petals, a fine crystal goblet of orange juice, and a silver covered dish of sausages. One of the house-elves behind Blinky grinned delightedly ; the mistress had chosen his cooking.
"Vanessa, darling!" The door flew open and Mrs Narcissa Malfoy bustled in, looking rather flurried. She gave a little shriek as she noticed that Vanessa was still in her mabel blue satin pyjamas, eating breakfast. "You're not dressed yet? When did that silly creature wake you up – I sent her up hours ago, surely!"
Vanessa rolled her eyes privately. "Yes, you did. She needs clothes, Aunt Narcissa."
"No!" With a shriek, the house-elf flung herself on the floor before Vanessa. "No, Mistress, Blinky begs your pardon, Blinky will fling herself from the top of Malfoy Manor, but do not give her clothes!"
"Oh, all right," Vanessa said, eyeing the creature in distaste. "Now get me my clothes. The ones that Treacher laid out last night. Aunt Narcissa, is Draco going to come with us?"
"Of course he is." Mrs Malfoy gave her a knowing glance that disgusted her almost as much as the sight of the dirty house-elf.
"Right. Well, then. I'll be done in a while." Vanessa got to her feet and walked to the enormous, tiled bathroom, slipping inside her favourite bubbled hot shower and coming out in a matter of minutes. Looking over the clothes she'd laid out the night before, they seemed too bland for Draco. "Accio!" A short denim miniskirt, a hot pink shirt, and a short denim jacket zoomed to the bathroom and into her hands. She slipped them on and coated her mouth with clear lipgloss, admiring the way the outfit showed off her curves and set off her lovely long hair.
Perfect.
"Hi, Ness." Draco Malfoy was standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking as gorgeous as usual in the black long-sleeved sweater that hid the Dark Mark on his arm. The black set off his icy blue eyes and pale blond hair, and his jeans set off his…body. Especially the bottom part of it. He was hot, no two ways about it. Vanessa felt that she should consider herself lucky to have been engaged to him since…well, birth. "You look good."
"Thanks," she told him, taking his offered arm and smiling at him. "You don't."
"Oh, I know," he said cockily, flashing her his confident smirk. "I look better than good. I look great. As in…gorgeous, sexy, and hot."
Vanessa rolled her eyes. Same conceited jerk as ever. Sometimes she wished she could have a guy who would just stare at her when he saw her, and then swallow and say, a bit shyly, 'You look beautiful.' A guy who loved her, who made her feel special, who asked about her, who didn't talk about himself all the time, who cared for her and put her above everyone else. A guy like…
Shut up, she warned her brain. What was wrong with her? She'd been engaged to Draco forever and she was lucky. He was great-looking, fantastically rich, and would take his father's place as the Dark Lord's powerful right-hand man someday, making her his trusted follower, too. She'd wanted that all her life, to be powerful and trusted. With Draco, she would get all that a girl wanted. Why on earth would she want…
"Your vehicles are ready, Lord and Ladies," a house-elf squeaked, bowing low as they emerged into the grounds. A richly-embroidered carpet with raised seats lay on the grass, purple and velvety with golden brocade. It was the newest Persian luxury carpet out in the market. The rich women were snapping them up like crocodiles, but this one was the most expensive. Vanessa snuggled into the heavenly-soft material as it took off from the ground, flying steadily through the countryside sky into London.
They landed in front of Madame Malkin's Robes. Vanessa accepted Draco's arm again as they stepped in, glad to be measured for new dress robes and the mandatory black Hogwarts robes. Another group of house-elves straggled off to bookstores to buy the required spell-books – Floo powder was all they needed – and Blinky trudged alone to get cauldrons for Potions. Vanessa chose a new tawny owl and a new Nimbus 2004 broom for her back-to-school extra presents.
"I need stuff from Knockturn Alley," Draco muttered to her out of the corner of his mouth as she was measured.
She nodded. "Good luck." She was absorbed in studying the cover of her new Transfiguration textbook. Apart from Defence Against the Dark Arts and Potions, Transfiguration was her favourite subject. Out of the corner of her eyes, she watched people dip in and out of Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour. Suddenly she straightened and looked alert. A shock of red hair with a lanky body attached was passing into Madame Malkin's. If Ron Weasel – sorry, Weasley – was here, then HE had to be somewhere near too…
"Oh, Harry, your bottle-green robes are nice," a female voice said firmly. A girl with intelligent brown eyes and bushy brown hair walked into Madame Malkin's. Vanessa could hear her swish through a few ready-made robes, talking all the while. Hermione Granger was accounted for, too.
"Yeah, remember that dress Mum sent me in fourth year?" Ron Weasley's voice sounded as if it was chomping on food, as usual. "It looked like poo next to yours, Harry."
"It looked cute," said Hermione Granger. Vanessa could tell she was turning pink. She knew what would happen. Ron would blush fiercely, redder than his hair, and mutter something gruffly. And Hermione would look disappointed and turn on Harry. Vanessa sighed. Would those two ever hook up? They seemed so cute together.
"Mrs Weasley sent me in to get a new one," another voice, a low, familiar male one muttered. It sounded mortified and embarrassed. It came from…directly behind her.
Her heart thudding violently, Vanessa Edgecombe turned slowly around and stared into the emerald-green eyes of Harry Potter…
"Hi, Vanessa," Hermione said, smiling at her.
"Hey." Vanessa's voice sounded a little rusty, so she cleared her throat. "Hi, Harry. Congratulations on getting made Head Girl, Hermione."
"Well, congratulations on getting made a Prefect," Hermione said back.
"Yeah," Harry muttered, staring at the floor.
Vanessa bit her lip, hoping that Draco wouldn't come back anytime soon. She could still remember his face years ago, when they were first years in the Great Hall for the first time, nervously waiting to get sorted…
SIX YEARS AGO
Vanessa stood with Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Draco, in their own little huddle at the back. She remembered feeling confident and eager, because of course she wouldn't get sorted into any House but Slytherin. Slytherin was in her blood…she was a Muggle-hating pureblood through and through…and wasn't her whole family from Slytherin? She'd been the only first year with a whole gang of friends. The others stared enviously at her and the other Slytherin must-bes, and she shot them Draco's cocky smirk, ready to go forward any moment.
The rest of the gang went forward one by one, getting sorted into Slytherin, as expected.
"Potter, Harry!" Whisperings and mutterings throughout the Great Hall. A boy with scruffy jet-black hair stepped forward, pale and scared. Vanessa felt her heart go out to him. He was famous and he was rich, she knew, but here he was, human, like the rest of them…
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The Slytherin table looked disappointed. The Gryffindors – Muggle-loving Mudbloods, the lot of them – clapped loudly and happily. They were always happy to get someone famous…it happened so rarely. Well, that it was it. No way was she being friends with Potter. She should have listened to Draco when he told her that the boy was a reject.
"Parkinson, Pansy!" Her pug-faced best friend ran forward.
"SLYTHERIN!"
Vanessa clapped and grinned.
"Zabini, Blaise!" Blaise, who she would have been engaged to if Draco was out of the picture, winked at her – he was one of her best friends, too – and walked up to the Hat with his trademark insolent non-smile.
"Slytherin!"
"Go, Blaisey!" A relieved Pansy shouted from the Slytherin table, giving him a hug. They had been engaged from birth.
Vanessa dug her nails into her skin and waited. Any moment now…
"Edgecombe, Vanessa!"
She walked forward, careful to look calm and confident and sure, just like the others. She could see Draco at the table, smirking at her, moving aside to give her the place next to him. Blaise with his arm around Pansy, giving her a thumbs-up. Dumb Crabbe and Goyle staring stupidly at her, waiting for her to be next to their leader so that they could get on with eating. She thrust the hat on her straight brown hair, squeezed her eyes shut, and waited.
"Hmmm," said a tiny voice inside her head. "Brave…courageous… very loyal…intelligent but ambitious…aware of your own strengths…where should I put you?"
Vanessa was too nervous to even pray for Slytherin. Besides, she would get in anyway. She was meant for Slytherin…
"I know – GRYFFINDOR!"
WHAT!
Vanessa's eyes popped open in shock. GRYFFINDOR? What was he TALKING about? This was just some horrible nightmare, or a mistake, and the Hat really meant Slytherin, or else he hadn't made up his mind yet and he was just teasing her…she wasn't in GRYFFINDOR…she was perfect for Slytherin…she'd been born for Slytherin…Come on, you stupid hat, tell me you're joking…
"Miss Edgecombe?" Professor McGonagall tapped her on the arm. "Are you all right? Your table is waiting for you."
"Oh, right." She got up. Probably the hat had announced Slytherin and she'd misheard. Through the terse, absolute silence in the Great Hall – why was it so silent? – she took a few steps towards the Slytherin green-and-silver table…
"Miss Edgecombe! Were you listening?" Grim-faced McGonagall steered her firmly around. "The Gryffindor table is on the other side. The one with the scarlet and gold festoons."
"But, Professor, Vanessa can't be in Gryffindor," Draco was saying loudly. "Her whole family's been in Slytherin, she's been born for Slytherin, and she's going to be my wife later, I can't marry a Gryffindor!"
"The Hat knows best, Mr Malfoy," McGonagall was saying grimly. "And besides, it's a little too early to be thinking of marriage."
Caught in the grips of a waking nightmare, Vanessa Edgecombe walked dazedly towards the House that was so wrong for her.
And yet so right…