Disclaimer: Wait let me check... Yeah I still don't own them
Chap 2: The ins and outs of trust
Early that morning in Bill's old room the little girl was thrashing around in her sleep. Her nightmares were particularly bad that night.
She slowly padded into the kitchen her shoulders hunched as if to protect herself.
"I'm really hungry, and thirsty. Can I have something to eat or drink please, I've been good, and I haven't made any noise." Bellatrix turned on the four-year-old with hate in her eyes.
"You've been good? Do you think that actually matters? Get back in the basement you worthless filth!" She sneered at her. The girl blinked.
"But I'm sooo hungry, my mommy would have-" She was cut off by a slap across her face. Bellatrix gripped her arm and began yanking her towards the cellar door.
"Your mommy! Your mommy's dead! We killed her because she refused to pledge loyalty to the dark lord, you're lucky the dark lord wants to use you in his plans; otherwise we'd have you begging for death! Now don't come back up here, I'll feed you when I feel like it!" She said before throwing the screaming child down the stairs.
She awoke with a scream and clucked her left forearm feeling the old bandages on it, and was thankful that lady didn't take them off. She hopped out of bed and walked the top of the steps and listened to the sounds of the family having breakfast. She felt envy tug at her heart. She had so few memories of her mother, but they were all happy at least. She walked down the stairs and felt all eyes turn and look at her. Her hair reached her knees and was jet black like her fathers, but it was slightly curly like her mothers. Her eyes were a calm gray color. She frowned slightly and timidly said. "Good morning." Arthur Weasley smiled at her and said.
"Good morning, how did you sleep?" She walked over to the table and climbed into a chair.
"Fine." She lied easily. Mrs. Weasley went over to her and tucked a napkin into her shirt. The girl gave the napkin a funny look and pulled it out of her shirt and laid it on the table before literally shoving food into her mouth and eating as if someone would snatch it from her.
"Deary slow down you'll choke." Mrs. Weasley said, not expecting this kind of behavior from a girl. "Now what's your name sweetie?" She looked up at her for a second before giving a noisy swallow then replied.
"Niccola Machiavelli Rayda, but you can call me Nicci ma'am. What are your names?" Mrs. Weasley smiled. Her table manners were horrible, but she was still polite.
"Molly Weasley, but you can call me Mrs. Weasley. This is Arthur Weasley, my husband; you can call him Mr. Weasley. Sitting to your right is my youngest son, Ron, and to your right, Ginny. Oh, and these two are Fred and George." She said gesturing to the twins sitting across from Nicci. "I believe the one on the left is Fred and the one on the right is George."
"No mum, I'm George, that's Fre-"
"You're lying." Nicci said cutting him off. Her face held no expression and when everyone turned to stare at her she pointed to Fred and said. "You are Fred, and he's
George." She shrugged and explained. "I can tell when people are lying to me; it's a gift I acquired a few months ago."
After breakfast Fred and George were walking up the stairs talking about a snag in one of their inventions when they heard yelling coming from the bathroom.
"We have to change those bandages! They're old and filthy and I need to make sure it's not infected!"
"It's fine, let go!"
"Just let me clean it!"
"No!" They ran into the bathroom to find Mrs. Weasley and Nicci on the bathroom floor wrestling as Mrs. Weasley tried to take the bandage off Nicci's left forearm. When she saw them she called out to them.
"Boys! Help me get this off her!" They ran over and held onto Nicci as she wiggled and squirmed. Mrs. Weasley was right. The bandages looked like there were bits of dirt on it and it smelled a little. When she managed to get the bandages off the three Weasleys gasped at what they saw.
AN: Nah, I'm not that mean.
On her forearm was the dark mark.
"But, how?" Mrs. Weasley asked as she broke from the stunned Weasley's grip. She pulled the sleeve over the mark, but not before Mrs. Weasley noticed the many cut scars on it, like she tried to distort the image.
"They forced it on me a while back. To remind me that I belonged to them, please don't tell anyone."
Well? Did I do good?