9. Finding Oneself

Saphira remembered the day she had been 'born' as if it had been yesterday.

Well, of course, it hadn't been yesterday but it had only been two weeks so far and to Saphira it felt as if no time had passed since that fateful moment. She could remember the fear and anxiety plaguing Harry's frail body, how his heart had been pounding wildly and how sweat had started to pour down his forehead and throat. His hands had started to tremble while the rest of his thin, weak body shook violently. His thick, black untameable hair was pinned to the skull as big green eyes were staring at the wall in front of them through heavy and thick glasses.

His face has been covered in sweat just as his hair and the rest of his body had been. Sickly, yellowish pale skin was giving the stark impression of a death head. A pair of big, emerald green eyes, too huge for the gravely sunken in cheeks and too pale as they like the rest of his body were plagued by a high and dangerous fever. His throat was feeling sore, his stomach ached, his back and every single joint hurt as every single muscle was feeling as if it was on fire. His eyes became dry and started to burn while Harry desperate blinked. The blinking only caused the burning to worsen and tears to run down the now brightly flushed cheeks.

The person lying in the bed was dying. High fever and serious poisoning through magic wasn't something a human body and such a small and frail body as Harry's had been could take. A handful of hours would pass until the body would finally give up, succumb to death to evade the agony and the soul would be free to begin its journey to wherever it was sent to.

Panting heavily and enduring horrendous pain the figure lying in the bed turned around abruptly as the door opened and two black clad figures swept in. One was a tall, black haired, pale faced man who wore a deep frown on his face and several bottles of different and not very appetising looking potions in his hands. The other man was equally tall whit pale skin, dark, full hair and good-looking features. He might have been considered handsome if it wasn't for his startling purple eyes.

Voldemort had entered Harry's room first but had migrated to the background where he observed from a safe distance what was going on with a great deal of fascination.

Harry's eyes, however, had remained on Snape.

Saphira knew that it was strange but she couldn't bring herself to think of the young man lying dying in this bed as herself. They had nothing in common, after all. While he was a man, she was a woman. And aside from the obvious fact that both of them were human being blessed with the gift of magic they shared nothing.

He was slightly tall, had unruly and untameable black, big emerald green eyes, wore horrendous glasses and finally his forehead was graced by this non-appealing lightning bolt shaped scar. She, however, couldn't be considered tall, had nice wavy, midnight black hair, big bright blue eyes that didn't need glasses to see properly and was free of scars. There was nothing anymore that bound them together.

They didn't even share the same genes anymore.

Whereas Harry was the only son of Lily Evans and James Potter, Saphira was the only daughter of Lord Voldemort and whoever was the donor of her second X-chromosome. Professor Snape had explained to Harry that the Dark Lord would need the genes of a woman for the potion to be effective. He hadn't informed Harry who her mother would be. Saphira assumed that it was a witch of pure blood and a strong connection and inclination to the dark side and Voldemort's cause but that didn't narrow it down too much. Saphira still didn't know who this woman and as such her mother in a technical way was she and nobody deemed it necessary to tell her.

It irked her that she had what Harry had longed for, a living mother and a living father, and still she couldn't have a proper family.

She remembered how Harry had taken the potions wordlessly from Professor Snape's hands and had gulped them down without any hesitation. Saphira supposed that to most it might be confusing and not understandable that the young man would inevitably seal his fate without so much as look back or fear of what may become of him in his heart.

But Saphira understood. Not only because they shared the same soul and Harry's body had become hers – it might make more sense to think of Harry's body as the container of his soul whereas her female body was her soul's shell – but because of everything Harry had been through. Harry was tired of it all and was suffused by the insatiable and burning need to start a new life. All he longed for was a new life and hopefully the possibility live like a normal person for once.

Harry wouldn't regret his decision, it was horrendous death versus a life full of new possibilities. So why should he hesitate?

As soon as Harry had gulped down the last potion the potions started to take full effect. Harry had automatically assumed that the potions would need more time to become effective as all those other potions Harry had been forced to take had needed so far but these potions seemed to work differently.

His body immediately started to burn from the inside out. Through feverishly clouded eyes Harry could observe as his organs, muscles, skin and bones change. His body shrunk painfully slowly, his hair grew longer and his body structure became slimmer, finer and more feminine. Harry could feel his facial features changing. With an astonished blink of his eyes Harry belatedly noticed that his eye sight became better and better. It was a horribly painful process.

And it had just started.

The worst feeling was that of his most important organ changing. Those small and natural aspects that had made him a man. He could feel some of them shrinking, other enlarging quite dramatically and others just changing. As the effects started to become more apparent at his chest and lower abdomen Harry all of a sudden couldn't breathe anymore. His eyes grew wide with horror and his breathing became laboured. Rasping intakes of breath and low but pain-filled gasps resounded in the dimly lit room. Through his blurred vision, pain and tears made it impossible for him to decipher anything around him, Harry could see Voldemort approaching his Potions Master.

"Give him something against the pain." Voldemort ordered, his voice painfully neutral and detached. "He will need it. As soon as the transformation is finished, infuse a sleeping draught into her system and then let her rest." Voldemort paused shortly, then he regarded his follower with intense purple eyes. "Inform me as soon as she is awake again."

With those ominous last words Voldemort turned around and swept out of the room leaving behind Harry to fight this horrible and painful battle on his own.

Out of the corner of his eyes Harry could see Snape nodding his understanding to his master before Snape reached into the pocket of his black robes and extracted another phial. The sour looking man stepped forward and studiously ignored the tears and gasps of pain as well as the visible trembling and shaking and the first, but already very noticeable changes in Harry's body. Severus placed the phial at Harry's trembling lips, held Harry's nose and forced the unpleasant liquid down his burning throat.

All of a sudden the pain lessened and mere seconds later Harry knew no more as finally everything became black.

Saphira remembered waking up for the first time in her new body just as good as she remembered Harry's last moments. With her eyes still closed, she had been lying in her bed and marvelled at the strange feeling of her sensitive skin being caressed by the soft, silky and slightly cool sheets covering her body. She wiggled her toes in happiness, slowly buried her fingers into the soft sheets and sighed again in contentedness. It had been the first morning in a very long time that she had been able to wake up carefree, not burdened by horrendous pain wrecking her fragile body and with her mind and heart free from the weight of having to save a whole population without having the slightest idea how she was supposed to accomplish that impossible feat.

As she was just lying in her bed, Saphira took more notice of how her new body felt.

She noticed the slightly tickling sensation of long, silky strands of hair moving lightly over her nose and lips with each breath she took. She realized that she seemed to feel smaller than before, that her hands and feet felt smaller but at the same time finer, slimmer. Her hips must have enlarged as her arms now bumped against them when she wanted to place them besides her torso. But not only had her hips enlarged. With a shuddering breath Saphira all of a sudden noticed the substantial extra weight pressing down her lungs.

Saphira wrinkled her eyebrows in confusion, slowly opened her eyes and blinked against the soft, bright light. It took her some time to take in her surroundings as the sun was shining brightly and unfortunately directly into her vulnerable eyes and blinding her temporally.

As soon as her eyes had become used to the light Saphira noticed the first big change. Even though she wasn't wearing Harry's glasses, and she prayed she never would have to again, she could see perfectly clear. Obviously Voldemort's and her mother's genes must have been void of the one special gene causing Harry's bad eyesight.

It was a wonderful feeling. Unlimited perfect eyesight, not having to turn her head around constantly from one side to the other so that she could see what was going on next to her and not having to worry whether her glasses might fall off it was pure heaven. Saphira marvelled at this wonderful change and enjoyed the sensation, a small, content grin edged onto her lips as she let her gaze wander.

Only to lose that grin as soon as her eyes wandered further downwards.

Where Harry's firm, broad chest, steeled by many hours of strenuous Quidditch practice had once been two balloon-like bulges were now situated at her chest rising and sinking with each breath she took. It looked strange to her, even though it shouldn't. She was a girl and seeing her own breasts was something absolutely normal. But unfortunately all her experience came from Harry and the tiny part of her mind that wasn't used to thinking of herself as a girl. Saphira felt a deep blush grow heavily on her cheeks at her view and the prospect of seeing herself naked in a mirror while changing.

As soon as this unwanted thought crossed her mind, several other equally unwanted and unpleasant thoughts started to take up and invade her thoughts.

She would have to look at herself completely naked while she was changing. Harry had, even though he had been seventeen years old, never seen a girl naked before. He had wanted to take this step after he had been married or at least had been with the girl in a steady relationship before. When Harry had been at his relatives' home, he hadn't been allowed to watch TV and read the magazines. In the wizarding world he was allowed to read the newspapers, but wizarding society was prude at best and as such the wizarding press had left him equally ignorant in this matter.

It would be the first time that he saw a girl naked and as Harry didn't exist anymore, it would be Saphira instead of Harry who would benefit from that experience.

But that wasn't Saphira's only problem. She would have to meet guys.

Harry had been straight, straight as in he had only ever liked and loved girls. But with Harry having been replaced by Saphira, she wasn't too sure whether she was straight in those terms, too. Professor Snape had told her that the new genes would change everything from her gender and appearance to her like and dislikes even the way she would think and feel. He hadn't told her whether those changes would affect those parts of her mind that considered Harry's former male acting and thinking.

Did that mean that from that moment on Saphira will like and love boys? Will she be drooling over them and all of a sudden realize how attractive they were? Or will her mind need time and leave her feeling torn between her still former male mind and her newly achieved feminine mind?

It was a horrible thought that she might be torn between her former and new self. Harry had always felt torn and hadn't known who he was until he ceased to exist. It was daunting to imagine that she might have to suffer the same fate.

And then she would have to meet Voldemort.

She knew on a pure cognitive level that he wasn't only the Dark Lord but her father as well. But will she feel a connection forged between them, the connection Harry had longed for so dearly or will her mind merely tell her that due to his genes in her body Voldemort was to be considered her sire? Will she be able to create until then unknown feelings such as comfort, friendship, love, respect, trust and dependence for him or will Harry's feelings of anger, disdain and revulsion remain? Will there be hate, betrayal, fear, suspicion, horror or panic? And what about Voldemort? How will he react to his daughter? Will he hug her and talk to her or will he just order her around and treat her like another servant?

The connection and relationship to the man who was now her father was one problem. Another problem was making friends and starting a romantic relationship. Will she have to ask Voldemort first before she was allowed to make friends? Will he choose her friends for her? Will there even be any witches and wizards of her age around the Manor who she could even befriend? Will she be free to do as she pleases? Or will her father dictate her life?

And then there was the matter of dating and finding a husband. Harry just like she had always wanted to have a family. A handful of little kids of his now her own to dote over, to raise and form after her wishes and ideals. Will Voldemort choose the one she will be allowed to marry and who will father her children? Or will she have a say in that matter, too? Those were her organs and her body which would be used for this, after all.

There were so many thoughts countless in their number and all equally unpleasant and daunting running through her troubled mind. She was too lost in her thoughts, drowned by worry and distracted by the endless possibilities that she didn't even notice that the door leading to her room had opened and someone had entered. When a loud, sharp clearing of a throat finally brought her back to reality Saphira's head spun around and she came face to face with Professor Snape who was looking awkwardly at her. His slim fingers were holding another set of potions and several unfilled documents. Those documents would have to wait until her father was present to fill and sign them with her.

And as if the man in question had heard her thought the door opened yet again and the cruellest and most dangerous man of their time, hated and feared by nearly an entire population entered her room. As Lord Voldemort approached and turned to look at her, his normally stoic and emotionless face faltered and revealed a startling look of surprise and pleased shock. A dangerous glint passed through those purple eyes and a hungry expression shortly stole its way over his lips.

Saphira swallowed painfully and waited for what was to come.

In retrospect Saphira thought that their first meeting had gone better than could have been expected.

Before they had the chance to speak Professor Snape had been ordered to give her a check-up. He was to make sure there was no longer any lasting damage done to her system and to make sure she was completely healthy. Lord Voldemort had paused for a short moment, his forehead furrowed and his eyes contemplating. His purple eyes focused on Professor Snape as he ordered the other man to search for anything that might hint at any problems that could occur in the future. The Professor had gulped in fear as she obviously feared that something might have gone wrong during the changing process and he would be the one punished for that failure but began his work.

After a lot of prodding and pinching, wand swinging and spells chanting Saphira was finally declared perfectly healthy. Both she and Lord Voldemort were rather pleased that there was nothing that might indicate to arising problems in the future.

After her medical check-up had been completed Lord Voldemort sent Professor Snape away. The black, billowing robes had caught her mind and captured her spirit. Here she was, sitting alone with her former arch-enemy, left alone, defenceless and at his utter mercy. She couldn't suppress the fearful swallow and the tiny but strong waves of fear crashing over her body. She didn't know what to expect and this uncertainty and mass of possibilities left her trembling and at the verge of a mental break down.

But whatever horrible visions had filled her mind and nurtured the fear in her heart Voldemort had proven her wrong. There was no screaming or yelling, no torturing or cursing. Instead he had approached her bed, taken a seat and regarded her intent with his scary purple eyes.

Talking with him was awkward. But even though he wasn't the friendliest and nicest person to talk to, Lord Voldemort had never once threatened or scared her in any way during their talk. His voice just like his face, eyes and posture had been firmly controlled. He looked so much like his younger version in the Chamber of Secrets except for those purple eyes. He could be considered handsome and even though he had succumbed to madness during the last few decades with death, torture, pain, devastation and horrible loss staining his path, he hadn't lost any of his charm.

He folded his hands in his lap and told her that she needed a new name. She had merely nodded. She wasn't stupid, she couldn't go by the name Harry Potter. That young man wasn't anymore and Voldemort couldn't just go around calling his only daughter by a male name and the name of his former arch-nemesis.

Harriet was out of question, too. Thank Merlin, she had been about to mumble under her breath Harriet was an old-fashioned name and even though it was the female version of Harry, there was still no way that Lord Voldemort would name his pureblood daughter and sole heiress after the female version of the light's former figure of hope.

Professor Snape had tried to explain the importance of a name in pureblood society. But time had been short and of essence then and as such he had only covered the basis. Her father seemed to know that she didn't know anything about pureblood society and therefore saw it as his first duty to teach her about the importance of a name.

Saphira didn't know how much time had passed during his lecture but by the time that Lord Voldemort was finished, her head was filled with countless pieces of random information. She blinked slowly and glanced unseeingly at the man sitting next to her bed. She would have to write all of this down or at least find a book about does and don'ts of pureblood society to keep the information in her mind.

What was of utmost importance was that the name was unique, worked with the family's traditional naming and was connected to person. She knew that this had to be the traditional and original approach. There were families who still abided by this strict standard with the Black, Malfoy, Greengrass, Parkinson and surprisingly the Brown families as the most prominent figures, but there were equally if not more families who didn't. The Longbottoms and the Weasleys had chosen traditional English names instead of fancy star constellations or names referencing to flowers or herbs.

She knew, however, that Lord Voldemort was traditional and pureblood fanatical at best and therefore would chose to abide by the original standards of naming a pureblood child. That meant that Lord Voldemort had to have been thinking about a name that was unique, connected to his family as well as connected to her. This thought left her slightly nauseous. She didn't want to think about what Voldemort would come up with as special attributes of her.

How about 'Androgynia' as a reference to both her genders? That name, though, did not only sound awfully but would be a dead give-away and get her killed within days.

He could chose 'Victoria Mea' as he had officially won according to the prophesy now that Harry Potter had ceased to exist and become a woman. At least Victoria would be an acceptable name even though the meaning behind it would be offensive.

Then there was 'Pristina Hostis' as Harry had been his arch-enemy for quite some time.

'Fortuna' might sound acceptable but would be equally insulting as Victoria. There was no need to emphasize that fate truly hated her now that she was bound to her former arch-enemy by force.

He could still go for 'Misera' because her lack of luck was well known and famous among the wizarding world.

Then there was 'Servila' as she depended on him to live or 'Calamita' because that was what her situation was, Harry's defeat. If he truly felt completely uncreative he might just call her Filia, daughter of mine. Her mind was busy creating even more and abstruse name and not a single one of them sounded too appealing.

Harry had found out in his fourth year that he should have done the same as Hermione, just quit Divination and take Ancient Runes instead. He loved ancient languages, it fascinated him how they progressed and changed over the course of time and not to forget the appeal of possessing knowledge that only few could read and understand.

These were the true secrets of their world hiding in plain sight and waiting for special people to come and find them. He had been fascinated with Ancient Runes ever since he observed Hermione struggling with her homework. It had been a spontaneous decision, a random thought at best, but since then Harry had studied Ancient Runes and Latin during his meagre free time. He was far from being an expert but he had gained enough understanding to find his way around in either language.

Sadly Hermione would never find out that Harry had been able to read and understand all of the small pieces of parchment she had been leaving around in the Gryffindor common room. She would never know that Harry had wholeheartedly prayed that one day Ron might finally open his eyes and look at Hermione in the way she deserved to be acknowledged.

"You name will be Lady Saphira Sita Slytherin." Lord Voldemort's voice brought her back to reality.

Saphira blinked. She had to confess that didn't sound half as bad as she had expected it to be. 'Sita' did sound a bit strange but as it was her middle name and she would never have to use it in public.

Lord Voldemort leaned back in his chair and regarded her with blank eyes. "Your family name will be Slytherin. I will claim this name and title as soon as this war is over." Lord Voldemort explained. Saphira assumed that he would have little problems claiming the name. He was a Gaunt through his mother's blood and as such a direct descendent of Salazar Slytherin. With his hate and disdain for his mother's pure blood defiling and her subsequent abandonment, she could understand why he wouldn't want to go by her family name.

"It is my right to do so and as you share my blood it will be yours to enjoy, too." Lord Voldemort continued. Whether he hadn't noticed Saphira's absent train-of-thought or didn't care about her absentmindedness, she didn't know. "Your forename shall be 'Saphira' for your eyes. They do look like sapphires, the purest form of bright blue I have ever seen." He complimented her and had he been someone else, she might have blushed.

"In pureblood society it is common to name children after what makes them unique." He repeated needlessly. She had remembered that part of his lecture all too well. "And even though you may not believe me, your eyes make you special. There is no living person to share your eyes."

Lord Voldemort paused and cocked his head a little to the side. "And finally 'Sita'. You are my pureblood daughter and heiress." His voice became sharp with a dangerous edge to it. "You will marry a pureblood, continue this special and important line and you will remain pure until I deem you acquainted enough to marry your husband-to-be."

Saphira swallowed thickly but inclined her head in understanding. That answered at least some of her former questions. She would carry on her father's name and their heritage. She was named after an expensive gem that shared the colour of her eyes and was named after the Hindi goddess of pureness and virgin marriage. All in all, Saphira supposed, she didn't have it too bad and could count herself rather lucky.

After the business with her new name had been dealt with Voldemort fetched the small mountain of parchment sheets with a whisk of his wand and conjured a quill and ink. With slow, measured movements Voldemort dipped the quill into the ink and started to fill out the forms. He did not look up once from the sheets laid in front of him and as no words were spoken Saphira was left to watch him fill out her new identity. As soon as he had filled in the gaps, even though he had somehow managed to hide the ones about her birthday, place of birth and mother Voldemort turned the sheets around and indicated for her to fill them out.

Once he had filled out all of the sheets of parchment Voldemort packed the documents away, vanished the quill and ink and moved to rise from his chair. With a stern but somehow strangely caring look in his eyes Voldemort stared down at her.

"You should stay in bed." He admonished her. "Severus informed me that it isn't safe for you to stand up on your own before tomorrow morning." He made a sophisticated motion with his wand and conjured a handful of thick tomes. "I will leave these books for you so that you are able to learn something about pureblood society, customs, mannerisms and history."

He placed the books on the night table next to her bed. "If you need something, just call for a house-elf." He advised her. "They are ordered to provide you with everything you need. Tomorrow Severus will come by and check up on you." He paused a little and regarded her intently. "We will talk about your studies then and Narcissa will visit to start your training on how to act like a proper lady. Later during that day a tailor will visit to measure you for your new wardrobe. It will be then that you may have a look at what you look like. Until then I can only advise you keep it low and sleep a lot."

With that and a final, curt nod to her Voldemort left the room and left behind Saphira with a huge mountain of books.

The next few days looked as if they were about to get funny and interesting, Saphira thought in sarcasm.

The last few weeks passed by in a blur. Saphira had spent her first day as a girl uneventfully. As Lord Voldemort had recommended Saphira had read or more like looked into most of the books he had left behind for her. To her utmost surprise she had found them quite interesting. There was so much she didn't know that was essential in wizarding society and frankly she had to ask herself how Harry had been able to last this long without even the slightest ounce of knowledge about this world.

That question came with a bitter and sore thought, however. Harry had been best friends with Ron, the youngest heir of a long line of purebloods. How come Ron or any of his family had thought it prudent to teach Harry about the inner mechanics and does and don'ts of wizarding society when they had plenty of opportunity to watch him struggle and stumble his way through committing countless of blunders? And why had Hermione who knew more about Hogwarts, magic and wizarding society before she started her school career than Ron ever would never once informed Harry about his glaring lack of knowledge and his unbecoming behaviour?

It was a shame to remember how he had acted. He wasn't just any wizard, he was the last heir of an important and once pureblood family. He should have been taught how to act properly.

This wasn't only Harry's friends' fault but related to his teachers and the Headmaster as well. But Saphira didn't have the strength to open that can of worms.

Another surprise was the ease with which the house-elves treated her. She had expected them to cower on the floor and tremble madly as if they feared she would scream at them. This was how the Dobby had acted around Lucius Malfoy, after all, and the Dark Lord couldn't be that different. However, when she called for a house-elf for the first time to get something to eat around lunch she had been pleasantly surprised. She had been filled with dread and foreboding when she called for the elf. But when the small creature appeared instead of cowering and stammering she found herself face to face with a small, broadly smiling and happily bouncing, female house-elf.

It seemed the house-elves had gotten wind of her having been Harry Potter, hero and saviour of the house-elves and therefore she had to be treated with the utmost respect. They nearly tripped over each other to fulfil her wishes and complied happily to do whatever she wished for. With a slightly foreboding feeling Saphira thought about what Voldemort would say should he ever see them acting like this.

She would have to tell the house-elves to keep a low profile while they were around him. Otherwise he might have their heads.

After all that had happened that day Saphira immediately fell asleep as soon as it became slightly dark outside. Not only had the day been physically taxing, she felt emotionally drained as well. Her eyelids became heavy, her breathing evened and soon she was far gone. She was soon too far asleep to realize how a dark clad figure stole its way into her room, came near to her bed and stayed there to watch her sleep. Nor did she notice the several pairs of big, round, bluish eyes and the pair of dark, brooding eyes keeping a firm look on the dark clad person.

The next morning Saphira found herself well rested and in positive anticipation of what was to come. In a clumsy attempt to straighten and comb her hair Saphira ran her long, slim fingers through her thick, long, silky black hair. She was just about to finish her breakfast as the door to her room opened and Severus Snape and her father entered.

Her father. It sounded so strange to her.

Severus took his task down to the last detail Saphira noticed. While he was checking up on her and making sure that everything was fine, he didn't touch her once in any way that would be considered inappropriate or looked at her too long. She didn't know why but to herself she thought it may have something to do with Professor Snape's and Harry's former relationship. Voldemort, as strange as the thought may be, must have warned him to treat her better and to not let his old grudge and hate cloud his vision.

As soon as he had finished his task Snape bid them farewell and left the room. An uncomfortable, deafening silence settled into the room and even though Saphira was completely sure that Voldemort would never do anything to her as he had made quite the effort to keep her safe and to protect her, she still couldn't say that she felt at ease around him.

"I know you almost finished your school career, but you still will have to be taught further." Her father finally broke the tense silence "Further tutoring will be necessary you might be able to take over an apprenticeship." His purple eyes focused on her and waited for her to acknowledge his words with a nod. "Severus informed me that you are fairly gifted with Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration and Charms. Your marks in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures are well above average."

Her father paused and looked at her in dissatisfaction. "However, your marks in History of Magic are severely lacking. And so is your understanding of Potions. Divination," He snorted disdainfully. "I won't bother saying anything about this fraud."

She remembered clearly how pleased she had been when her father had indirectly praised her skills. Never once had anyone done that before. Harry's relatives might rather die than admit he was good at anything. And his Professors had always thought it normal to be gifted in certain magical areas whereas his friends and their families never felt it necessary to acknowledge Harry's skills. Hermione had always been the genius whereas everybody else only saw Harry as the small, averagely magically gifted Quidditch prodigy.

Although she had to admit that being dressed down for her lack in Potions and History of Magic, two subjects of great importance to Voldemort, had embarrassed her quite a lot. She could feel how she literally turned red like a tomato as she averted her eyes in shame. She would have to do better than that. The look of utter disappointment in his purple eyes had made her want to vanish into the floor. She would have to improve those skills. For her own good so that he would stop looking at her like that. And for his own good.

How could it be that she had to be adopted by her arch-enemy to finally develop a healthy feeling of need to prove herself?

"This lack of skills will be taken care of." Her father admonished her fiercely. "Severus accepted to teach you again in Potions."

He paused as he must have seen her flinch and noticed how her eyes darken.

"Don't fret." He chided her. "Severus promised that he would treat you fairly and not to dress you down for something you can't influence."

All of a sudden he laughed heartedly even though with a hint of cruel contentedness when he saw how she was staring at him with wide open eyes.

"I made him swear an unbreakable vow." He admitted shamelessly. "You can be sure that Severus will keep his words. At least, he better would."

He leaned back again in his chair and levelled his gaze at her slightly squirming form.

"You will need further tutoring in Ancient Runes, Arithmancy and the Dark Arts." Her father stipulated. "Those are important branches of magic and it is of utter importance for you to master them. Do your best, Saphira, I will accept nothing less."

And so it had been agreed on. At one point in the future Severus Snape would teach her in Potions, Lucius Malfoy would teach her the fine art of the Dark Arts whereas Narcissa Malfoy would teach her Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. However, before she would be able to ponder her scholastic career, Saphira needed to complete her course of how to become a proper pureblood lady successfully. She was informed that Lady Narcissa Malfoy would come by every workday morning and teach her the art of being a pureblood lady. She would cover the rather important aspects or proper sitting, standing, walking in high heels, talking, eating, dressing and finally thinking.

Etiquette lessons had precedence over her scholastic career. She would only be taught in magical aspects once she had successfully completed her lessons with the Lady Malfoy.

Harry hadn't known that being a woman of high standing could be this difficult and exhausting. Had he, he would have valued them even more.

And just like this the weeks flew by. After having had breakfast on her own in her quarters, Severus would come by to check up on her. Once he deemed her fit and healthy, she would attend her lessons in the morning with Narcissa and being tortured by her into conforming to any of the Lady's high expectations. Then she would have lunch in her quarters and an hour to relax or to revise what she had learned so far as the Lady Malfoy had suggested and would then have further etiquette lessons until it was time for breakfast. Every evening she would have dinner with her father who would ask her about her progress and every evening she would please him with what she had achieved. Sooner than she had anticipated she started to look forward to his praise and even sooner she became dependent and even addicted to his approval.

She came to live for him and she didn't even notice.

It was a few days ago that her father informed her during their joined dinner that Draco Malfoy would come by soon and would bring the rest of her personal belongings. She felt something stir inside of her. Draco Malfoy, the pompous, arrogant jack-ass, would bring Harry's most personal belongings. He wouldn't do so without having sneaked a look inside the suitcase first, of course. He would brutally raid Harry's privacy and she wasn't even able to tell him to stop.

But worst of all, the Malfoy bastard didn't know Harry that had become a woman.

A shudder, followed by a glazing wave of anger and resentment washed over her as she imagined the face he would pull. The wide, self-assured smirk, the leering look in his steel-grey eyes and his horrible better-than-you posture. He didn't know why Harry had chosen to become a woman, why Harry had sacrificed his former life to become Saphira. Malfoy didn't know and Saphira would rather die than tell him. But Malfoy would gloat that she knew for she. He would for once feel as if he had bested Harry in his stupid game.

By being a man.

As she resented their impending meeting so much time flew by even faster and sooner than she could have expected Draco Malfoy's arrival at Slytherin Manor had arrived. She spent the day pondering as she had been cleared of all her studies for the day. Her mind was racing and she was thinking about what different kinds of cruelty Malfoy would make her suffer through. A lightly, sarcastic smile crept over her features.

Just he wait, that bastard, until he found out she was his better now. Her father will make sure of that.

She was so engrossed in her musings that she didn't even realize that Malfoy had arrived. When all of a sudden the load clearing of a throat sounded through the visitors' lounge Saphira flinched heavily and spun around. She couldn't help but sharply suck in her breath and stare numbly at the young man standing in front of her. She could feel her heartbeat unconsciously quicken as a small blush of humiliation unwillingly crept over her cheeks.

There was Malfoy wearing a dark blue cloak with intricate silver embroidery gracing its hems. He looked like he always had at Hogwarts. His white blond hair had been combed back neatly and was held together through a small plait reaching to his shoulders. He had broad shoulders, a defined chest, strong, firm arms and a well formed body thanks to his Quidditch training. His face was aristocratic with a small, straight nose, neatly kept eyebrows, nice lips and two orbs of silver-grey eyes staring openly at her figure. He looked like always, she realized, and nevertheless she felt breathless and light-headed.

Saphira inwardly huffed in annoyance. Who was she kidding? Malfoy had been good-looking when she was still Harry. Now that she was a woman, he might even be considered handsome.

Not that she cared, she told herself viciously.

Just when she thought that things couldn't get worse her father entered the visitors' lounge and informed Malfoy in unadorned words that the young, good-looking woman who had been ogling shamelessly so far was not only the Dark Lord's daughter but also Malfoy's former nemesis Harry Potter. Sometimes, Saphira thought to herself in despair, parents had the strange affinity to always bring shame and embarrassment upon their children no matter their intent. Her father had certainly managed marvellously.

Once her father had disappeared off to who knew where things became awkward. Malfoy followed her like a lost puppy with his mouth and eyes wide open looking as undignified as he could if he had tried to. Saphira could only sigh in exasperation to herself.

They reached her quarters without complications but even in the solitude of her quarters Malfoy wouldn't stop gaping at her. The look of utter disbelief and surprise was starting to get the better of her and finally she snapped at him in utter irritation. And even though her angry words seemed to bring him out of his trance or stupor or whatever he had been suffering from things still remained awkward between them.

Each of them finally took a seat but whereas Saphira had hoped that Malfoy would remember his pureblood upbringing – Lady Malfoy was torturing her endlessly with how to act properly in the presence of others, one would assume that her son would be the poster boy of perfect pureblood behaviour – Malfoy had obviously thrown all knowledge about correct behaviour in the presence of a young lady of pureblood heritage out of the window.

He snapped at her, asked her rather rudely a couple of stupid questions and later he even dared to insult her by using Harry's name. Not that Harry's name was shameful in itself. No, it never would be, at least not to Saphira. But to use his name in such a fashion was pure idiocy and would get her killed sooner rather than later.

She had to seriously dress him down for that.

Now they were sitting in silence with each of them following after their train of thoughts. She didn't know what was going on in Malfoy's head and frankly she couldn't care less. He had proved rather spectacularly that he was as much of jack-ass at Slytherin Manor as he had been at Hogwarts. The revelation was truly surprising seeing as Lady Malfoy pretended to be the picture perfect of a pureblood Lady as would be expected from a woman of her standing who had married into such a perfect pureblood family. Saphira had assumed that Malfoy would act as he was expected to in her presence. But every family had a black sheep and Malfoy here seemed to be this family's one.

A slight movement alerted her to her surroundings and brought her back to reality. Malfoy had leaned back into the chair, his frame relaxing against the soft cushions and his face was contemplative. She could feel herself tense as she watched Malfoy fold his fingers together and hum lowly in tentativeness. All off a sudden an unpleasantly teasing look appeared in his eyes and the air of superiority began to swirl around him. He leaned back further, his hands folded behind his head with a viciously teasing smile on his lips and a leering look in his eyes.

"Pray tell, Saphira." He purred pretentiously. "How is your life as the Dark Lord's daughter?"

A low growl escaped her pursed lips and it took all her willpower not to strangle him right then and there.

Oh, how she hated that good-looking jack-ass.

Someday she would probably kill him.

Name explanations:

- Androgynia: hermaphrodite

- Vicoria Mea: my victory

- Pristina Hostis: former enemy

- Fortuna: destiny

- Misera: misfortune

- Servila: dependence

- Calamita: defeat

- Filia: daughter