A/N: This is the first story I've published in a long time. It's something that I started writing a few years ago and have decided to continue, so I hope you like it! To anyone reading By the Blood that Binds Us, I will get round to finishing it at some point, but I just don't quite know how to at the moment.
It was a bright and sunny day in Diagon Alley and the narrow, cobbled streets thronged with witches and wizards of all ages. Excited chatter filled the air as children crowded round shop windows, pointing eagerly at the brightly vibrant displays whilst their parents desperately tried to drag them away to continue their shopping.
But not one family. In the midst of all the chaos, three slender figures made their way silently through the crowd. The taller one, a woman, was dressed in a set of dark purple robes, trimmed with black velvet. Her pale blonde hair shone in the sun under a small black velvet hat, adorned with a short peacock feather, and her head was held up high, showing off a delicate jawline with rather pointed facial features.
Of the two smaller figures, one was like his mother – a head of blonde hair, completely slicked back and a walk that screamed confidence and superiority. The other, however, was slightly shorter. With long, wavy hair the colour of dark chocolate, Astera Lestrange looked nothing like her guardians, the Malfoys. Instead, her looks came entirely from her father, Rodolphus. Her mother, she didn't know anything about. She had never even seen a photograph.
"Astera, dear, do try and keep up," Narcissa called out to her, despair clear in her voice as she cut through the eleven year old's thoughts.
"Yes, Narcissa," the girl replied and obediently sped up to where the woman and her son had stopped outside Ollivander's old wand shop.
"You'll have plenty of time to look round later," the blonde lady continued. "Let's get the things you need first." She looked up at the peeling old letters above her. "Ollivander's… we'll start here then."
She pushed open the door and the small bell tinkled lightly as the three walked through, alerting the owner of their presence.
The shop was filthy. Long slim boxes covered every wall, faded and so dusty that the labels on them were unreadable. There was one old, dark wooden counter a few metres into the shop, also piled with the same sort of boxes. The only clear space was an area padded with dark green leather, presumably only left so Ollivander could speak to his customers.
Astera looked at Draco next to her; he did not look impressed. She herself however, was incredibly excited. She'd been looking forward to this moment for as long as she could remember. Just the thought of being able to use a wand herself, instead of watching Narcissa or Lucius, had her feeling overwhelmingly happy.
"Ah, hello, here to buy your first wands?"
Astera blinked at the soft voice and looked up to see an old man with wide, silvery eyes smiling down at her. She gave a weak, shy smile back as Narcissa answered for them.
"How's your wand, Mrs Malfoy? Hawthorne and phoenix feather, isn't it?" the man went on to ask, switching his gaze to Narcissa.
"It's still working perfectly, thank you."
"Well, I'm glad. So many wands are not properly looked after these days," Ollivander said sadly. "Now, I think we'll start with you, Master Malfoy. Hold out your wand arm please."
Draco stuck out his right arm, looking around the shop in a way that was clear to Astera that he was bored.
"Ah, let's try this. Hawthorne and Unicorn Hair. 10 inches. Nice and bendy. Give it a wave."
As the boy took it, a soft glow formed around him and red sparks were issued from the tip, crackling loudly.
"Ah, the same wood as your mother, how curious. Hawthorne wands tend to pick those who are internally conflicted, but also possess a talent." Ollivander paused, looking closely at Draco. "I must warn you. Hawthorne wands can backfire badly if not treated correctly. Look after it well."
The young boy rolled his eyes, but nodded, promptly handing the wand over to his mother. The old man turned to Astera.
"Now, who might you be?" he asked, his pale eyes twinkling unnervingly.
The girl stood up straighter as she spoke, just like the Malfoys had always taught her. One with a pureblood name such as Lestrange should be proud of it, they'd said. Only, Astera wasn't proud of it. Her father and his wife had besmirched the name after torturing the Longbottoms into insanity. That was something she couldn't possibly be proud of.
"Ah, I see, I remember your father's wand. Elm, it was, elm and unicorn hair. Twelve inches. No doubt that he's no longer in possession of it. Now, wand arm out please."
Astera placed out her left arm and watched in fascination as the tape measure unrolled itself once more, having to bite her lip to stop her giggles as it occasionally brushed her arm, making it tickle.
"Hmm… " Ollivander studied the measurements carefully. "I think we'll try this one first," he decided, picking one from the top of the pile on the desk. "Beech and unicorn hair. Ten and a half inches. Very supple, that one, brilliant for charm work."
Astera gave it a quick wave and gasped when a lamp above them shattered, glass raining down on them until Narcissa quickly whipped out her wand, turning it into harmless sand as it reached them.
"Sorry!" she squeaked, carefully placing the wand back on the desk.
"Not that one then." Ollivander went back to his shelves. "How about this one? Rowan and phoenix feather. Twelve inches."
He handed her over a pale brown wand with a plump handle stained a darker brown. She gave that one a wave too. A pile of books shot off the shelf opposite her.
"Clearly not," the old man stated as Astera also placed that one back onto the leather counter.
He walked off again, this time further back into the shop. The girl watched as he pondered a moment before climbing up the nearest ladder and pulling out a worn box from the top shelf.
"Third time lucky, eh?" he said as he placed the box on the desk. "Try this one, red oak and dragon heartstring. Nine and a quarter inches. Relatively swishy, great for duelling and charm work."
As Astera took the wand, she felt a friendly warmth fill her, it was almost the magic was humming through her veins. Sparks erupted from the tip of the dark red wand.
"Ah, so it is you who is destined for this. That wand is one of the few that has lived in this shop for as long as I can remember... but never did I think it would make a first wand." He looked at the girl sternly. "Red oak is rare and can make an extremely sensitive wand. If it is not used correctly then the effects could be astronomical. You must promise me that you will never use it without thinking first."
His cool blue orbs bored into Astera as she stared back at him, eyes wide in alarm.
"Yes, I promise, sir," she answered shakily. Why couldn't an ordinary, safe wand have picked her? Why did she always have to be the awkward one? The one that didn't fit.
Seemingly satisfied with the girl's answer, Ollivander boxed the two wands back up again as Narcissa counted out the money to pay for them.
"Remember, be careful with both of those wands," Ollivander warned again as they turned to leave. Draco just rolled his eyes and walked back out into the busy street, but Astera turned back and gave the old man a small reassuring smile before following Narcissa out of the door.
"Who did that old man think he was talking to?" Draco exclaimed rudely as soon as the door had clicked shut. "I don't need to be lectured about wands, I've lived with magic my entire life!"
"He was just trying to warn you, Draco," Astera put in. "He knows a lot more about wands than we do. Surely we should listen to him?"
Draco opened his mouth to retort back, but his mother spoke before he could get any words out. Secretly, the girl was glad. She hated dealing with Draco in this mood.
"Flourish and Blotts next?" she asked. "Then we can meet your father at Fortescue's before we get your potions equipment and robes, yes?"
"Sounds great, mother," Draco said, but it was clear from his tone that he didn't mean it.
Astera sighed, knowing what this meant. They wouldn't be staying at the bookshop for very long if precious little Draco was in such a bad mood. It never mattered if Astera wanted something different; she wasn't their daughter.
As the three walked into the store, they were met with the rich smell of parchment and leather – Astera's favourite smell.
"What are you smiling at?" Draco's haughty voice interrupted. She turned to him angrily, suddenly fed up with his foul mood.
"I wouldn't expect you to understand," she sniped, but as her eyes clashed with his, she faltered, as she did every time she caught his gaze. A pang of sadness hit her.
You see, Draco hadn't always been so rude. In fact, when they were younger, the boy had always protected Astera.
Over the course of their childhood, they had been tutored in wizard history, reading, writing, languages and flying, and, to make the money worthwhile, all the local purebloods had been tutored together. However, unfortunately for Astera, that had resulted in a class full of boys and, being the smallest, she was an easy target. They would tease and threaten her relentlessly, crowding her and throwing insults during the breaks until she ran out of the room crying.
Draco, obviously, had been part of the class. However, he'd never taken part in the bullying and had always come and found her afterwards, comforting her and wiping away her tears. When he'd been able to, he'd put a stop to the bullying before it could get too far, but Astera grew to understand that he couldn't do this every time for the sake of his family's reputation and respect. 'For a Malfoy to become a victim of bullying was unacceptable' Lucius had told Draco one dinnertime when he'd tried to tell his parents about Astera's problem.
It soon became clear to the young witch that she was not as important in the Malfoy family; as long as their precious son wasn't being bullied, the boys could continue with their insults and cruel teasing. And even though the problem had never been solved, Draco had become the girl's knight in shining armour; someone she looked up to and adored.
However, the tutoring, and therefore the bullying, stopped when they were eight years old, and the following three years had changed Draco dramatically. He started spending more time with his gang of pureblood mates and less time with Astera, often staying days at a time with the Crabbe and Goyle families. Meanwhile, Astera remained at home with Narcissa and learnt the pureblood etiquette. Originally, she had visited the Greengrass family in an attempt to integrate herself into the world of pureblood ladies, but it didn't take her long to realise that she didn't fit in with the high-pitched giggling and the talk of marrying a rich pureblood at a princess-like wedding that their three daughters were into. She found it ridiculous and tiresome, and so the play dates stopped soon after they had begun.
They were currently at the stage where Draco was brushing off any attempt by Astera to spend more time together, or even just to have a conversation, and as a result, the two had slowly drifted apart. More than often, the boy snapped at her for being annoying and told her to leave him alone, and yet none of this stopped the fact she still wanted to be friends with him. No matter how many times she wished that the feeling would just go away, that he was horrible and she deserved to be friends with someone who would respect her, it refused to give up its tight grip on her. Eventually, she'd just learned to hide it, talking back to him in the same manner he spoke to her.
However, right now Narcissa was having none of it.
"Enough, Astera!" the witch's voice cut in to her thoughts. "That is no way for a pureblood lady to speak to a young man. Apologise, now."
The girl had to refrain herself from rolling her eyes and angering Narcissa any further as Draco smirked at her from behind his mother.
"I apologise, Draco," she said testily, before spinning round on her heel and stalking off into the shop. She didn't care that they were supposed to be buying the books together; she already knew what she needed to buy, having studied the list many times since she'd received it several days previously. She just wanted to get away from them before she said or did something she knew she would be sorely made to regret.
Collecting all the books as quickly as she could, the young witch headed to the non-fiction and spells section. If she was lucky, it would take Draco and Narcissa a lot longer than her to find the books they needed.
Brushing her fingertips over the rough leather spines, Astera scanned over the titles, looking for one book in particular. Hogwarts: A History by Bathilda Bagshot. If she was going to go, she wanted to know as much about it as possible and, as Draco had ripped up the Malfoy's copy as a toddler, the family no longer owned one.
Finally, in among the Bs, she spotted it, one single copy left. Pulling it out, she scanned through it quickly, balancing the rest of the books awkwardly under one arm.
"Are you done, Astera?" Narcissa's voice interrupted. The girl looked up to see the slender woman walking up the aisle towards her, Draco's books shoved under one arm. The boy himself was a few strides behind, arms crossed grumpily.
"Yes," Astera replied, clutching the copy of Hogwarts: A History tightly. She swallowed, trying to work up some courage. "Is… is it possible we could buy this too please?" she asked tentatively. It wasn't often that she asked the Malfoys for something, but as she wasn't their daughter, she always found it awkward. They had always made it very clear that Astera was not their own child, or, in fact, any relation at all.
"What is it?" Narcissa tore the book from the girl's grasp, flipping it over to read the title. "Ah, yes, this would be useful for you too, Draco," she said, tucking it under her arm with the rest of her son's books.
Draco was clearly not interested in the prospect a new book. "Mother, can we just go?" he whined. "I'm hungry."
"Yes, of course, dear," the woman smiled fondly at her son before turning to Astera. "Hand me those books and I'll go and pay whilst you and Draco find Lucius."
"Yes, Narcissa," the girl replied, dutifully trying not to sound as annoyed as she was. She hated it when Draco used his mother's love for him to get what he wanted. He was rarely denied anything. The boy had already started to walk away by the time Astera had handed over her books to Narcissa, meaning the girl had to run to catch up with him.
"I don't understand why someone would willingly spend time in that shop," Draco said haughtily as they walked down the street. Astera had to curl her hands into fists to stop her from retorting back. But then he continued. "Why would someone want to spend time in there when they could visit somewhere like Quidditch Supplies instead?"
"Draco, no," the girl said firmly, knowing full well his intention and immediately making her anger dissipate into something more like worry. One thing she hated worse than Draco's complete disregard with other people's opinions was getting on the wrong side of his parents. "Your mother said to find your father, not go wandering off."
The boy rolled his eyes. "You're such a goody-two-shoes, Astera. No one is going to care if we go via the Quidditch Store!"
"Draco, please, you'll get us into trouble!" Astera begged, but as usual, he ignored her.
"I'm going. You can come if you want; I don't care either way." With that, he stormed off.
Sighing, Astera knew that she had to follow him. To get to Lucius before Draco would only get her into more trouble than actually staying with him.
"Draco, wait!" she called out and once more, ran after him.
