Author's Note: This for my last reviewer, BreakfastStout, who critiqued my work and asked some very perceptive questions. It showed that I was actually doing a very good job...too good. So let me go through every point as well as I can.
1. I wanted to focus on her relationship with Draco before I focused on Genevieve first. I write from her perspective. It's always about how she feels on the situation. There's a reason for this. So you don't know how other's perceive her as opposed to how she percieves herself. While she's a brilliant witch, she's socially inept-without even realizing it. She's been on her own for so long, that she had no idea just how awkward she is. As for Oliver. He is an important character. In the Sequel. I can't tell you more. But interactions with Oliver were meant solely for her to start noticing how truly awful Rosamund was.
2. This whole thing with Harry will come to a head very quickly. While a part of this is Draco's influence on her, another part will make itself known at the same time things unfold with Harry. I can't tell you more. Except that it's in this chapter.
3. Genevieve had three years to come to grips with the fact that she was adopted. The sorting hat even told her which houses her parents were in and how all three of them would have fit in Slytherin, but went into Gryffindor instead. That was her biggest clue. And by the time Sirius had made it known he really was her father, she was already quite certain he was. And her trusting a stray dog? Crookshanks wasn't nervous, so neither was she. And this bit will answer three and four. Sirius had no idea he even had a daughter. I can't tell you anymore. If I do, I'll ruin this, but mainly the prequel. This is going to be a three part story.
4. Sirius is kind of a risk taker and has a tendency to do what he wants. Plus, he has somewhat figured out why he didn't know about her. And this would really be the only way to talk to her safely at all.
Every single point you made is actually all connected to each other. so, I can't explain everything with out giving away the entire series.
Bonus: I hate Draco's nickname for Genevieve, too. It's absolutely cringeworthy. Genevieve hates it-which is exactly why he uses it. It's his way of flirting with her. Think of it as his version of tying her hair to her chair or shoving her down at recess. I picked it because it was the absolute worst nickname I could think of for him to call her.
Chapter 9: How to Break a Horse
"The greater the power, the more dangerous the abuse."
-Edmund Burke
The train ride back to Hogwarts was a dreary affair for Genevieve and her friends. None knew quite what to say and Genevieve was not in the mood to be consoled. She hadn't even acknowledged anyone's presence as they had filtered into the compartment to join her. She hadn't looked away from the window, nor made a single sound. She had remained silent the entire ride and refused to speak even as they exited the train and headed for the carriages.
Genevieve ignored the students that greeted her as she made her way into the great hall for the returning feast. She collapsed at the table and stared down at her empty plate. She refused to move and continued to ignore everyone, even as her fellow Gryffindors buzzed happily around her. She merely turned when Katie tapped her on the shoulder urgently. Only then did she notice the hush that fell over the table. Katie gestured behind her, her face pale, and Genevieve looked to see Draco. He was flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, who both looked more smug than she had ever seen them. For once, Draco's face held no trace of false arrogance. He looked solemn, even a touch concerned.
"We're to escort you to Professor Umbridge," he said, ignoring the rest of the students as they began to whisper wildly. She could faintly hear her name mentioned over and over. She stood slowly and followed him out of the great hall, her head held high. Crabbe and Goyle were laughing and snorting behind her. The two imbeciles were, as always, oblivious. Draco gave no indication that he was upset. Except to Genevieve. To her, he looked as if he were trudging to his doom. This cannot be good, she thought darkly.
He refused to look at her and it was just as well. If he'd looked at her, she would have tried to smile reassuringly, which would have been completely stupid. They weren't supposed to know each other socially. "-she'll get it out of her. A filthy mudblood like her will know where Potter and the rest of those tossers keep running off to."
Genevieve couldn't help the sour look that settled on her face. She wasn't even involved with Dumbledore's Army, nor did she spend much time socializing with members. She only ever spent time with members she had previously been friends with. But this wasn't about her being friends with members. This was about her perceived blood status. And she couldn't even speak the truth to clear her name.
They entered the DADA classroom and it seemed much colder than usual. Crabbe and Goyle were still laughing like the idiots they were and she wanted nothing more than to turn around and backhand them each into a coma. She settled for imagining their hair being set on fire. The trio of Slytherins escorted her into the horridly pink office and Genevieve had to blink back her disgust. She gazed wide-eyed at the many kitten plates adorning the walls and came to the only logical conclusion. Delores Umbridge was absolutely mad-and in the worst way possibly. She was the type of mad that caused your skin to crawl.
Genevieve was surprised to see Professor Snape standing beside Professor Umbridge, who was sitting at her desk, adjusting a row of pens, taking great pains to make sure they were all aligned perfectly. The cacophony of cats crying innocently behind her caused Genevieve to cringe inwardly. Professor Umbridge began to stir her cup of tea slowly in a clockwise manner. She didn't bother to look up as she spoke, instead glancing over a piece of parchment with great interest.
"Miss MacDuff, so glad you could join me so soon after arriving at school." Though she sounded welcoming, Genevieve knew better. She smiled although Professor Umbridge had yet to look up from her perusal of the piece of parchment that seemed to be a letter of great interest. "Of course, Professor. I hope that you haven't called me here for any reason unsatisfactory. There is nothing wrong with my marks, I hope?"
Professor Umbridge folded up the letter and tossed it atop her desk in what appeared to be a relaxed manner, but her tight smile belied her displeasure. "Of course not, Dear. Tea?"
Genevieve blinked in surprise at the offer. It wasn't normal practice for Professors to offer refreshments when they called you into their office. Unless they were Dumbledore. "Yes, thank you, Professor. That's very kind and generous of you."
Umbridge's smile was condescendingly indulgent. "It's a pleasure, I assure you. I quite enjoy doting on all my students. Sugar?"
"Two teaspoons, please." Genevieve shifted in her chair uneasily when she realized that Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle were still present. Crabbe and Goyle were grinning madly as they watched Umbridge spoon sugar into her teacup delicately while Draco's scowl deepened with each scoop. It was then she realized she should not drink the tea.
"Now, Dear, you have my sincerest condolences on the losses you suffered over holiday," Umbridge cooed with false sincerity. Genevieve gave her a watery smile in return. "Thank you, Professor. It's been hard."
"Oh, I'm quite sure," she agreed, nodding her head at her. "How's your tea, Dear? Hopefully, to your liking?"
Genevieve's insides sank as she took a sip. "It's quite good. Thank you."
"Of course, now. Your parents were muggles, were they not?"
Genevieve nodded. "Yes."
Umbridge stirred her tea nonchalantly. "And they were your biological parents, were they not?"
Genevieve blinked in surprise and managed to answer the question as evasively as possible. "If I was adopted, they never told me. Are you saying I was adopted?"
"Of course not! I'm just trying to understand how such a senseless tragedy could occur," Umbridge assured her, her toad-like face becoming even more gruesome to behold as she tried to smile in a comforting way and failed miserably. Her upper lip kept twitching and it gave her a slightly sinister appearance.
"I never talked to my parents about magic. My mother was wary of it and the subject made them both uncomfortable," Genevieve said, feeling her eyes water even more. Her parents' murder was still fresh in her mind and here she was being interrogated about her supposed blood-status. All she could see in her mind's eye was her mother's shoes-their soft mauve hue and how she'd always thought they suited her mother so well. How often her mother wore them and how it wasn't surprising in the least that they had been the pair of shoes she was wearing when she died. "They never quite understood magic. Though it's not surprising as I'm sure they're not the first muggles to overreact to having a child capable of witchcraft or wizardry. But, they loved me all the same..."
She trailed of when Umbridge pursed her lips in a way that suggested she was beginning to become annoyed with Genevieve's prattling. The woman merely smiled and nodded. "Yes, I'm sure that's the case. Are you sure you have no relatives of magical ancestry?"
"My parents had no living relatives to speak of. All of my grandparents died before I was born and my mother and father had no siblings. I don't believe my any of my grandparents had any siblings except my paternal grandfather, but both his brothers died in World War Two."
"I see," Umbridge ground out slowly and Genevieve nodded as she hastily drank more of her tea. Genevieve nodded. "I can only assume that whoever murdered my parents must have done so by accident. It's quite possible someone targeted them by mistake."
"That is quite possible, Miss MacDuff," Umbridge agreed, though there was a sharpness to her reply that indicated she was not pleased with the way her thinly veiled interrogation was proceeding. "I understand you are currently tutoring a student. How is that proceeding?"
"Quite well considering we don't get on in the slightest," she replied easily, marveling internally at her ability to lie so smoothly, "I don't mind though. They're a quick study."
"And do you have any other extracurricular activities?"
"Absolutely not," she exclaimed with a resolute shake of her head. "I'm not one to break rules. I'm here to learn and breaking rules would be counterproductive."
Professor Umbridge attempted to smile once more, but the corners of her mouth kept twitching downward and she was beginning to blink rapidly. Professor Umbridge was becoming more and more displeased with her responses. Finally, Umbridge dismissed her.
Crabbe and Goyle shoved past her on their way back to the Great Hall, followed by Draco, who was looking as gloomy as she felt. He gave her a searching glance before following his two lumbering housemates. Genevieve did a complete about face and headed for the common room. She had completely lost her appetite.
The next morning was just as horrid. She dressed wordlessly, trying desperately to ignore her roommates' whispering as they stared at her back; she could see their pitying faces in the mirror's reflection as she adjusted her red and gold tie. She was the first out of the dorm room and out through the portrait hole. She had just climbing down the last set of stairs on the moving staircase, when she nearly fell over herself, having tripped over her shoelace. She let out a huge sigh and settled on the last step to tie her shoe. She had just finished the first loop and was getting ready to pull the other string over and around it went it snapped in her hand. She stared at the broken piece of shoelace in her hand, the sound of students rushing by was a deafening roar in her ears. When the roar disappeared she felt the first hot ears begin to slid down her cheeks.
Everything was falling apart on her. It seemed the moment she had stepped onto the Hogwarts Express for the first time, everything became a disaster she was forever trying to fix.
But the truth of the matter was, she didn't know how. She continued to stare at the shoelace as she sniffled. She wasn't sitting on a step in Hogwarts. She was sitting on a step at the foot of the stairs at home, watching her father as he showed her how to tie her shoes for the first time. She remembered how his shampoo had smelled, the exact shade of blue of his shirt, and the slow movements he made as he tied, untied, and retied her shoes over and over until she was ready to try tying them on her own. It had been sunny out that day. And there had been birds chirping out back.
When reality crashed back into Genevieve, she was gasping for air as she sobbed uncontrollably. Her hands were shaking violently and her fingers were so stiff she was having trouble trying to reach up to wipe the tears from her face. She continued to gasp and gulp and moan in misery. She was still hicupping loudly when there was a trio of whispered voices. She kept her head down when two sets of feet passed by her. She stiffened when someone settled down next to her.
She could see a bespectacled face out of the corner of one eye. She wiped at her cheeks once more and then sniffled. "My parents are dead."
Harry didn't say anything and Genevieve continued. "My father taught me how to tie my shoes and write my name. Mother used to sing nursery rhymes with me in the kitchen while she cooked. Then we started singing along to the radio when I got older. That's all I have now."
"Yeah," Harry said quietly. She looked over at him and he returned her sad stare. Finally, she looked down at her broken shoelace again. "It's going to hurt like this forever, isn't it?"
He didn't answer, but she knew he nodded. She frowned to herself, her cheeks tinged pink in embarrassment. "I'm sorry for being such as cow to you. I just..." she squirmed, trying to find the right words to say. "I'm not really used to people being so..."
"Nosy?"
She shook her head and he grinned. "No, I was. I was being a right prat. It's not my business to know who sends you mail." There was a small pause and then, "and it's probably smart of you not to join Dumbledore's Army. If Umbridge catches us-"
"Exactly why I didn't," she said with a small laugh. "I really hate her."
"Me too," Harry breathed. They sat in silence for a few minutes and then Genevieve asked timidly, "Do you ever-Are you ever angry at them? Your parents?"
"What do you mean," he asked, turning to her. She fiddled with the shoelace in her hand. "Well, I mean with fighting Voldemort. Do you ever feel resentful for it? For them putting themselves in danger?"
He nodded. "Sometimes, yeah, I do. But I know that eventually, Voldemort would have killed them anyway. He would have killed a lot of people if it hadn't been for them. And if it hadn't been for my Mum, I'd be dead, too."
"Even before they died, sometimes, I'd be mad at them because they didn't want me to use magic," she ventured slowly,"like they thought I was a freak. Like they didn't really love me because I wasn't normal."
"And they were right to have been a little scared, Genevieve," Harry admitted, looking much too serious for her liking. "Look at what Voldemort has done and what he wants to do. If it hadn't been for magic, he'd have been just another muggle. He won't just destroy us; he'll destroy everyone."
"Hitler was just a muggle," she reminded him gently. They sat in silence a bit longer. "What are you going to do when this is all over?Go back to Little Whinging? I know how much you love it there."
Harry grinned back at her. "Not likely. I'll be moving in with Sirius. And you? Will you still be living on your own?"
"I don't really know," she admitted, tapping her feet on the step, "I suppose I'll have made a decision by the end of seventh year."
"What will you do? After seventh?"
Genevieve shrugged helplessly. "I honestly don't know. I-"
"Maybe we should get to class. We're late enough as it is."
She nodded and dusted off her skirt as she stood. she dabbed at her eyes. McGonagall didn't say anything as she watched the girl with swollen, bloodshot eyes and tear streaked cheeks sit down. The room was eerily silent as she did so. Even a couple of the Slytherin sixth years seemed to be a bit at a loss as to how to treat the completely dismal situation.
As the day dragged on in an incessant blur of heated whispers behind her back and blatant stares, Genevieve withdrew further into herself. she was near to catatonic during lunch. She could feel Katie and Leanne's eyes on her and Angelina had a comforting hand on her shoulder that was beginning to shake her ever so gently. But she simply couldn't bring herself to react. They were dead. It was all she could think. Her parents were dead.
"Maybe we should take her to Madam Pomfrey?" Leanne.
"I don't think there's anything she can do for something like this," Angelina. "Maybe Dumbledore? He might be able to sort her out."
Then Katie. "No, she's pretty bad off. She needs something more than a Professor going on at her about how things will be okay."
"Do you blame her for feeling that way?"
"Of course not!"
It went fuzzy for a moment and it was dark and she couldn't move-not that she had wanted to. She was in the infirmary when things became clear again. Genevieve still found it hard to focus. She groaned in exhaustion and Madam Pomfrey's stern yet concerned face came into her field of vision.
"You gave the entire Great Hall quite a bit to fuss over," she tutted, feeling Genevieve's head and then filling a glass with a nearby potion bottle. "Miss Bell and Miss Swit were absolutely beside themselves with worry."
She was shaking her head as she watched Genevieve down the potion with great effort. "And that Malfoy boy. I've never seen such a sour look on a boy's face before. Even for him it was quite the feat."
She pulled the scratchy woolen blanket up under Genevieve's chin and Genevieve watched her tiredly. "How long have I been out?"
"Almost a week," she replied before her expression became even more stern, "that's what happens when young girls like you don't eat or sleep for days on end. It's no wonder that boy was so cross; him having to carry you in here. It certainly rubbed him the wrong way. And it caused quite the commotion in here with your two friends."
Gemevieve rubbed a weakened hand over her face, scrubbing at her eyes. "Please tell me no one was injured."
"Injured in my infirmary?" The older woman sounded absolutely scandalized by the idea. "I banned them from coming back while you're still here. Those three can't come in here unless they've been maimed or happen to have Dragon Pox. And since you've been unconscious this entire time, I haven't allowed you any visitors. you need all the rest you can get. You may be awake, but you're still as frail as a piece of old parchment. You'll not be leaving that bed for at least another week, Miss MacDuff."
Genevieve moved to sit up and Madam Pomfrey put a hand on her shoulder in warning. "Miss my classes for two weeks?! I can't! What of my homework? And my tutoring?"
"Both will still be there waiting for you when you are discharged from my care." It was clear Madam Pomfrey would not be swayed and Genevieve pursed her lips in displeasure. Satisfied that Genevieve would not try to disobey her, she realeased her grip on the girl's shoulder and stepped back. "I'll allow you visitors in a couple days-when you have more color to you."
I must look like the dead, Genevieve mused. It was too exhausting to be annoyed with her current situation. Even when her thoughts drifted back to her murdered parents, she found herself unable to feel much of anything. It was as if her mind was just as feeble as her body.
She spent a great deal of time staring at the ceiling while she was awake. She replayed her conversation with Harry over and over in her mind. Where would she go? What if she were forced into hiding because of Lord Voldemort? Should she move in with Sirius? They were still getting to know one another. The possibility wasn't very appealing.
Once Madam Pomfrey allowed Katie to bring Genevieve her assignments, she threw herself into her schoolwork. Leanne had given Katie a romance novel to pass on to her. It was titled "Keeper of Her Heart" and from what she could tell from the summary on the back, it was about a muggle-born witch who was quite poor that happened to meet the keeper of the Peruvian National Quidditch team while on an expidition to study Incan Shamanism. She cringed every time she glanced at the cover. The book had taken up residence on her nightstand next to a thick pile of all her finished essays. She has yet to open it and she refused to do so-even if it had spent ten consecutive weeks at the top of Witch Weekly's Best Seller's list. Such a feat was not impressive to her in the least.
Genevieve had woken well after midnight to do her most intensive homework. Madam Pomfrey stopped checking her patients after midnight and being as Genevieve was the only one in the infirmary, she usually stopped her rounds by eleven. Genevieve preferred to wait until midnight however. She had been working on her Transfiguration essays for over an hour, poring over several pages of the most sloppily jotted-down notes she had ever read. Katie had never been much for note taking and usually borrowed either Leanne's or Genevieve's.
None of it made any sense. Why on earth would she need to use scourgify to turn a monkey into a hatbox? Or maybe it said "Scurry by"? Deciphering Katie's notes was just as much a chore as writing an essay for Severus Snape on one of his worst days. She blinked her eyes tiredly and scowled when she managed to focus on the upturned inkpot staining the white hospital sheets the same forest green hue as her finger tips and crumpled parchment that was trapped under her knee. Had she fallen asleep? Genevieve groaned, frowning at the mess she'd made that was sure to send Madam Pomfrey into an indignant rage and moved to sit up.
It was then she realized she was being watched and glanced up to see none other than Draco Malfoy sitting in a chair by her bed looking much more mess than she supposed he ever had. Gone was his tie, his shirt was unbuttoned and untucked, revealing a wrinkled undershirt beneath. His hair looked as though it hadn't been combed in at least a month. His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed, his face was even paler than usual and Genevieve was sure she had never felt as exhausted as he looked. He looked as if he had gone mad for a split-second.
"Draco?" she ventured uncertainly as they continued to stare at each other. Finally, he reached toward her, cupping her face in his hands-hands that felt like blocks of ice-and his eyes though they were filled with the same amount of warmth as his fingers that brushed gently against her jawline, were uncharacteristically wet.
"Don't you ever do that again." His voice was hoarse. She rested a hand upon his shoulder and looked up at him worriedly. "I'm alright, Draco, I promise I-"
His lips slammed into hers before she could finish reassuring him and they were full of need and desperation. And then they were everywhere before she could respond, fluttering over every inch of her face and down to the sensitive flesh of her neck. Just as suddenly as he had started, he stopped. He was motionless as he held her crushed to his chest, leaning over her prone frame. He was breathing heavily and shivering with his face buried in her neck. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around him and ran her fingers through his hair.
Eventually, he pulled away enough to look at her. "They're gone," she said quietly. "Because of me. Very well should have killed them myself."
Draco coaxed her to sit up further and then pulled her closer to him, clasping her hands in his. "It had nothing to do with you," he tried and she shook her head fervently as her eyes flooded with tears. "No, it did, Draco, it did. If they hadn't taken me in, this never would have happened to them. They'd be alive, but they're dead. Because I exist. They died because I exist. How bloody messed up is that?"
"Vivvy," he sighed. His voice was strained and he looked at a loss for words. "They loved you. I'm sure if they could change any of this they wouldn't-having you for a daughter."
"Having me for a daughter got them killed."
Draco's handsome face closed over, his expression becoming steel. "No. You can't think like this. They were killed because they were muggles who happened to have a daughter who is a witch. Any other child they had who may have been a witch or witch would have gotten them killed as well. That's what this is. It's all about blood. Whose blood is better."
"I just don't understand anything anymore," she admitted brokenly, "I can't make myself believe that any of this is the way things are. The way they should be. I can't."
Draco watched as she dropped her face in her hands and cried in earnest. Silently, he rubbed a hand over her back soothingly as she sobbed, dropping a soft kiss on the crown of her bent head. He kissed her again a moment later. "You need sleep."
"No, I haven't seen you in so long and I don't want you to leave," she argued, wiping at her face. Now aware that her face was stained with tears, her self-esteem plummeted. He must think I look awful right now, she thought sadly. "Will you please stay? Just for a bit. You make things feel better." He paused to study her, lisp pursed, eyes scrutinizing in that familiar way. Her request had confused him.
"Please," she quite near begged, "I need you."
He sucked in a sharp breath and his expression darkened as he carefully move her parchments, quills, and inky bottles off her tiny hospital bed and arranged them neatly for her in the exact way she always kept them when they studied together. Genevieve couldn't help but smile at him. Only someone like Draco Malfoy would remember something so mundane about someone. She fell back on her pillow and he stood beside the bed, hand buried in his pockets as they studied one another.
"How was your holiday?"
"Awful," he replied easily as he took he hand in his and settled back down in his chair, "the same as every other one I've had."
She watched him keenly. "What did you get for Christmas?"
He snorted in derision. "What didn't I get for Christmas?"
Genevieve smirked at that. "Spoiled little Draco Malfoy," she teased.
"Mousy little Genevieve Macduff," he countered, feigning disgust and she smacked his knee, causing him to chuckle. "I have never been mousy."
"Rubbish," he argued as he teased her back. "You were almost as mousy as Granger until you started snogging me."
"Maybe I should stop," she mused with an arched eyebrow, "it seems to have made your head a great deal bigger than it already was."
"That is a horrible idea," he scoffed, "if anything, you should snog me more. It keeps the swelling down."
Genevieve covered her mouth to keep from laughing outright. "You're just incorrigible."
Draco smiled proudly and puffed his chest out a bit more. "Mother always said so."
"And what else does mother say about her precious baby," she asked, making his eyes narrow, "does she still powder your bum?"
"Watch it, Macduff," he warned, giving her his most menacing look. She smiled ruefully. They fell into a companionable silence again and Genevieve took the time to look at him, really look at him. She let out a deep, contented sigh. "I truly missed you."
Draco let out on of his rare, genuine smiles at her admission and she could feel her face begin to tingle with embarrassment all the way up to her scalp. She curled her toes under the blankets Madam Pomfrey had piled on her and Draco had arranged around her mere minutes beforehand. Her hand burned where he was rubbing soft circles with his thumb.
Genevieve watched with bated breathe as he leaned closer to her and ran his fingers through her disheveled hair, silently marveling at the softness of each strand. Her eyes widened at the closeness and she had to bite her lip from squeaking in the warmth that suffused the upper half of her body suddenly traveled South at an alarming rate. She crossed her calves and pinned her knees together to alleviate the sudden ache. She'd felt it before often when they snogged, but it had never been so intense.
Without a coherent thought as to what she was doing, Genevieve pulled her shaking hand from his strong one and brought in up to his chest. She let out a shaky breath as her fingertips and then her palm made contact with his warm skin just below where his neck met his shoulder. Touching him felt better than she remembered.
"What are you doing, Genevieve," he breathed out lowly. There was a slight waver to his voice. He watched as her dark eye followed the movement of her hand as it slowly traveled down and across his chest and a diagonal line and down the plane of his abdomen. "Vivvy," he tried to warn, horrified when it came out as more of a moan. She withdrew her hand immediately with a whimper. "I'm sorry, I..." Her chest was heaving heavily with ever breath and against his wishes, Draco's eye followed the movement as if hypnotized. He wanted to touch her badly. He watched as she squirmed in the bed, trying not to draw attention to her discomfort, a discomfort he was very familiar with. It had caused him more than his fair share of misery after every snogging session they'd had.
"I just wanted to touch you," she half whispered and his eyes snapped shut at her admission. "I better go before something-before you let me do something foolish to you."
She huffed out a slow sigh of dismay as he pulled fully away from her and dropped what could only be described as a noble kiss upon her knuckles and his face closed over with steely resolve. "I'll come visit you tomorrow night."
She nodded sullenly. "Goodnight, Draco."
Genevieve watched as he slipped silently from the Hospital room before burying her head in her pillow and growling her frustration. It seemed that absence had done much more than make just their hearts grow fonder.