"I sometimes wonder if father really loved me, or if I was just another stranger in his life. Just another one of those masked moving works of beauty transformed into humans that I see dance at the masquerades." A silhouette of a 'luscious' hourglass figure and long cascading hair resembling that of a phoenix's stood against the large glass window, staring out into the night sky as it rained from the heavens.
"Or was I just a mere reminder of the glorious, enchanting grace, kindness, beauty, and legend that was she?" The young lady whispered out to no one. "She, of which night dances it's mysteries to, of which fate shall hold no power over, she, of which was Ginevra Malfoy," she sighed.
Guinevere Malfoy twirled around when she heard a faint creaking of the floors, startled but showing of little indifference.
"Father requests your presence, dear sister." Her brother, Lance, said.
Guinevere bowed and headed to the Parlor, where her father was often to be found. As she walked inside, she saw the dark lighting of the room, only lit up with some candles that were swaying, trying to say that they were going to fade. She instantly spotted the dark figure of the so-claimed glorious man, her father—Draco Malfoy. As her eyes slowly adjusted to the room, and her gaze rested upon him, her throat seemed to clam up as if she knew what was about to be said.
"You knew this day was coming, didn't you young Lady Guinevere." Her father said slowly, looking straight at her.
Lady Guinevere. So formal, no love whatsoever. How had her mother put up with this? Or was her father just a changed man now that The Incident had happened? Never the less, Guinevere cringed inside of herself.
How she yearned for her brother to be at her side, comforting her right now.
"Please Father! Please don't!" She pleaded, her mind blank of tact unlike usual.
"I'm going away, far away." He simply stated. Truth be told, he couldn't stand seeing his child in distress like this, how her beautiful face reflected that of her mother's and how she had his eyes.
His sad, cold gray-blue eyes that her mother had loved.
"Father!" She screeched. "Ever since the day I was born, I have doubted your love for me! For everyone, but mother!" She nearly cried, loosing all dignity of composure.
Draco's eyes softened slightly.
"If this were another life, another time, I would make it up to you"
At least, that was how it STARTED out. But now, the real story begins. You see, fate affects everyone, whether they believe that it does or doesn't, and this time, Fate has teamed up with Chance to create a story that would last for years after years.
But back to the story of how young Lady Guinevere and Lord Lance find themselves back in the past, and still in shock. As you see, Fate has few people that it trusts, and when it does trust someone, that someone will be involved in most… everything.
And that, was how Guinevere and Lance found themselves in Dumbledore's office, sitting uncomfortably in the chairs as the wisdom-filled eyes of the Headmaster twinkled upon them in another time. In the past. In the time when her father was young.
"Sir! Malfoy's done it again! Look what he did to Harry!" The unmistakable voice of Ron came booming in, carrying a limping Harry who had a bloody lip and some bruises that were an odd shade of purple.
"Sir—Madam Promfrey was nowhere to be found!" Ron added, explaining their presence in the office instead of the Hospital Wing.
Oh my, that's Uncle Ron! Guinevere thought, shocked.
"She'll be there quiet soon, so I suggest you go wait and I'll have a look at Harry later." Dumbledore smiled as Ron hesitated, wanting to hear something about Malfoy getting expelled before he left, but still left all the same.
"I have just the two people you would like to meet." Dumbledore smiled.
Guinevere and Lance shot him looks of puzzlement.
"Sorry I'm late Professor…" Two voices huffed out in unison, both people glaring at the other.
Guinevere stared in disbelief, and stood up elegantly, a lump forming in her throat.
Everyone, especially Draco and Ginny, the people who just came in, stared at her quizzically.
Guinevere breathed in a breath, and bowed.
"Oh, no! What are you doing?" Ginny looked uneasy, not used to this formality. "No need for such formality!" She smiled.
Draco sneered. "Of course, Weasels like you don't get the pleasures of formalities because you understand none."
Guinevere straightened herself. "My name is Guinevere M--" She hesitated, then paused, hoping they didn't hear that. Ginny didn't seem to notice and Draco merely raised an eyebrow, but did not press any further.
Is this what father was like when he was young? She pondered. Even though his personality wasn't a very jolly one, at least it was human and not the dark figure of sadness like she had once remembered.
She smiled, happy to see both her father like this, but mostly, her mother again.
Fact that they are the younger versions of themselves aside.
"If this were another life, another time, I would make it up to you." She repeated silently to herself, and smiled wider.
She bowed once more.
"It is my sincere and greatest honor to meet both of you." She said softly.
That one sentence brought a playful smile to Fate's lips.
The game had just begun.
Dumbledore smiled upon hearing these words. Knowing how Young Miss. Malfoy's heart ached over the future, he decided to get her know her father as she should.
"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said, in which both Lance and Draco turned their heads to, "These two new people here are to be transferring to Hogwarts for this year. Guinevere will be in Slytherin while her brother Lance will be in Gryffindor. I trust that you both, Ginny and Draco, shall show those two around and help them get accustomed to their classes and houses."
Ginny nodded, smiling at Lance while Draco just groaned.
What an 'interesting year'.
"The other houses are mostly in towers, but it's the Slytherins who get the dungeons. It'll get awfully cold in the winter time, but it's just perfect for summer." Draco explained as he led her down the dungeons.
Guinevere smiled, looking around her. "My father used to go to this school. When I was little and Mother was still around, he used to tell me stories about this place." She said softly without thinking.
"Still around? Did she die?" Draco asked without realizing how rude he was being.
Guinevere smiled a sad smile, merely the curling of the tips of her mouth. Her curly blonde hair seemed to cast a net around her as her dark, cold gray eyes. "No. I'm not too sure of it entirely, but one day I woke up and she was gone. Father…" She trailed off, her eyes saddening as her throat formed a lump, "He was never the same."
Draco stayed silent.
"I never really knew him aside from what other people told me. We spoke only around a sentence each month, and saw each other in only quick glances. In fact, I barely remember what he looked like." She smiled, regaining composure.
Draco felt closer to the girl now that they seemed to relate to each other. He had never had a loving father either.
"Did he love her?" Draco asked softly.
"Yes. Definitely." Guinevere answered in an instant. "Everyone did. Mother was a pure legend, her grace, her beauty, her wisdom.. everyone loved her."
"You don't seem to be around here." Draco suddenly blurted out, coming to a stop.
Guinevere politely turned to face him. "I was brought up in a different household."
"You're so.. polite. It's as if going back to the medieval ages."
Guinevere smiled. "Yes, I suppose so."
They stopped in front of the painting as Draco told her the password, 'Serpendeth'. He showed her the way to the girls' dorms and then bidding her good night, he left for his own.
After hours of tussling, Guinevere gracefully made her way down into the common room, sitting down by the couch near the fire.
"Miss Malfoy, shouldn't you be resting?" The cold, inquiring voice of the Head of House spoke.
Guinevere turned around, startled.
"Do not worry, I have my ways of knowing." Snape smirked, though not his usual cold one.
TBC. Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Please review. ) Thoughts are appreciated. I know this plot is very un-creative, but the main thing about this fic that I want to focus on is not the plot, but it is the personalities of all the characters and how they face their own trials and inner-heart desires. I hope I can try hard to do a successful job at capturing each character's personality and their own thoughts and feelings.
Thank you for reading and please stick around for more. )
Guinevere had not a good nights rest, but the people in Slytherin where kind to her. As much as they can be expected to be kind, at least. Guinevere looked herself up and down the mirror, surveying herself in her slytherin robes as she took a deep breath, a small smile playing on her lips. She closed her eyes.
"Look! Father, father! Mother! Look!" A small voice rang out through the hall ways, followed by hurried footsteps. A miniature Guinevere burst through the doors to the Study, startling her mom and dad. They smiled at her, Draco and Ginny both kneeling down to see what was to be shown.
"Look! It's a butterfly…" Guinevere whispered softly, as if telling them a big secret, and opened her clasped hands. The butterfly, it's wings of the most indescribable colors, fluttered out of her palms and into the study, bestowing upon them its beauty.
"Look dear.. it's lovely." Ginny whispered to Draco in awe.
The smile faded from Guinevere's face. Was that really that long ago? She sighed, shaking her head as she slowly treaded to the common room. Classes didn't start for an hour, and breakfast was thirty minutes away. It was cold in the dungeons, yet she felt at home. In a sense, of course. Not the 'at home' as in describing the place comfortable, but 'at home' referring to, her father's mansion used to be the same temperature, if not colder.
Sitting down on the couch, sat up straight and tall, trying to recall more times her father spoke to her.
"Aren't you tired?" A voice rang down from the boy's dorms.
She turned her head to face the sound, her eyes resting on the form of Draco Malfoy. She was not ready for this. She was both pained and joyed every time she saw this version of her father. But she will never be ready, so must as well start now.
Elegantly, due to many years of practice, she took up, bowing deeply. "Thank you for gracing me with your presence." She whispered, standing up again, smiling softly. "I'm sorry if I woke you. Too many thoughts troubled my mind is all."
"It's no problem. Blaise was snoring too loud anyway." Draco shrugged, plopping down on his chair near the fireplace. "What thoughts?" He said, curious.
Guinevere was surprised. In her times, no one questioned 'what thoughts' when given the reply Guinevere had given. First times for anything, she guessed.
"I was brought up a life where I had everything I might have wanted. Every petty little thing. But the things I yearned for most, I did not have." She spoke softly, speaking from her heart. This sentence was easy to say, as she repeated it to herself many nights before.
"My mother's warmth I loved. Her care and love she gave me, oh how I craved! But what I wanted most, I know for sure, is my father's love. I…" she hesitated, ", feel betrayed by my mother. She left us, abandoned us!" Her voice dropped to a deep whisper, tinged with hurt. "Father never looked at me the same." She gulped down the ball that was forming in her throat. Thinking these thoughts were different than saying them aloud. Yet, this Draco will never know what she is talking about. If things were different…
"He must have saw in me a bit of her. He was pained everytime he looked. He would just quickly glance away. I wanted his love and praise." Guinevere whispered.
Draco stayed silent, then chose to speak. "I can relate." He said softly.
Guinevere smiled at him gently. "I apologize for keeping you from your tasks. I know it must have been boring to sit through a mere girl's petty story." She stood up, curtsying.
Draco straightened up. "Uh,-- no. It was nothing." The tips of his mouth curved upwards. "Actually, it was my pleasure."
Guinevere smiled. "If this were another life, another time, I would make it up to you" She repeated in her mind.