Don't throw things at me please, but there will be absolutely nothing about Draco in this Chapter. I am trying to paint you a picture of Roxanne's past, all which will become relevant in later Chapters. Also, Roxanne shares many of Draco's ideals, although she is not an evil character, she is also not a good one. (I figured I warn you, so your not expecting a morally perfect girl to swoop in and change Draco's life and turn him into a first class citizen. I figured this would be less of a jump from the Canon Draco, plus it's no fun for me to write "good guys") I am also trying to reflect the gray area surrounding the social and political strife of the Wizarding War, and since there is not much of that shown in JKR's books I am sort of taking the incentive to create this middle ground. I hope that this all makes sense.
"Incendio" she muttered as she entered the Ravenclaw common room, pointing her wand towards the fireplace as the cool night flitted through the windows, which tugged at the silk curtains. The fire erupted at once and cast a warming glow on the midnight blue carpet before it. Despite the brief sprouts of cold air her sweaty palms stuck to the envelope. She was so eager to hear news from him and when she finally did, she was always too frightened to read it. Taking the strides her long legs allowed she paced the common room; the sound of the fire devouring its meal reminded her of the pointlessness of her actions. Eventually she found herself in an arm chair by the fire, the letter sat inconspicuously on the arm as she continued to stare at it, willing it too reveal its secrets. Slowly she moved her hand so that it covered the envelope; she took a long breath and pulled it into her lap. It felt heavy in her hands and she struggled to tug the paper from its packaging. When she unfolded the stained letter she recognized her brother's elongated handwriting, the rushed scribbles strewn across the page. She let her hair create a boundary, shielding herself from the rest of the world as she dipped her head to read.
'Dear Rock—'she smiled at the nickname, remembering her summers with her step brother long ago. Her father has always been hard on him, pulling him in all directions to 'purge his blood'; her father called it, and when things got hard the level headed Roxanne was always there. He began to call her his Rock. The memory faded as she continued reading;
'—I know that you have been waiting for word. This continues to get harder; I think he knows my heart is not in it. Do you remember your father's camps? He is starting them up again over the Christmas Holidays—' She groaned, recalling the countless summers and holidays with her father's 'camp'. An organization he held which taught charms, incantations and duelling for students on their holidays. It was a camp which although not overtly so, was directed towards the Dark Arts. She would be put to work again this Christmas, dealing with bratty children and the demanding and rigours task of being teacher's guinea pig. A position which left little time for relaxation, but perhaps one that also made her quite dangerous with a wand. '—I know your groaning, but stop! Many of the Death Eaters are sending their children to your father's camp, and with the increase of enrolment he needs the extra help. I volunteered. Long story short this Christmas Holiday I will be home.
Sorry this must be cut short, don't look for a letter until closer to the holidays.
Love, C.H'
She could not help but smile as she thought about seeing him over the Christmas Holiday's, even though she would be subjected to her father's classes. That thought alone could not bring down her good mood. Her biggest objection to his camp was that she would not have much of a Holiday, but of course without his constant pressure she might not be the great Witch that she was today, and would not have found herself in her mother's house; Ravenclaw. The thought of her brought it all crashing down around her. What would she think of her husband's forwardness? In reality it was never a secret where her father's alliances lie, but he also never admitted to either side, he was a coward, but she loved him.
Her mother on the other hand openly enjoyed the idea of a pure blooded society of Witches and Wizards, but it was not because she found the alternative repulsive, in fact she was quite indifferent to Muggles and their offspring, magically gifted or otherwise. It was the idea that magic may be lost or diluted over time, if say a half-blooded Witch produced offspring with a Muggle and that child with another Muggle, and if this pattern continued, the gift maybe lost on that branch of the family tree. In short, her mother was frightened that the magical world would breed itself out. It was a theory she employed and researched heavily after the birth of her first son to a Muggle Father. Whether by coincidence or not, the boy was born with no magic and was therefore sent to a Muggle school, but having a Witch as a mother in a world which did not believe in such childish tales labelled the boy as an oddity. He was subject to daily beatings by the school bullies, until one day, after the school bell chimed out the end of the day, and he began the short walk home; alone as usual, they collected around him, hitting and kicking him until he no longer moved. Her mother always believed that the death of her first son could have been prevented if he had turned out to be a Wizard. The thought tormented her as her second son, Colton, grew in her belly. Terrified she fled her Muggle Husbands home, straight into the arms of Roxanne's father.
He had loved her very much, despite the being growing within her, and when Cole was born, with quite astounding magical gifts her father accepting him the best a man without his own children could. The 'purging' of Cole's blood began early, and when the time came, he sent the boy to Durmstrung. Her father was always harder on Cole, expecting more from him, and Cole did everything he could to please his Step Father, becoming a Death Eater was one of those cases, but her father was unrelenting and still refused to offer his step son his last name. It was not, Roxanne suspected, out of hatred, but instead out of the fear that his name would be tainted by the blood of Cole's half blood offspring.
Roxanne found herself straddling the two sides. Although she shared her mother's fears of her family losing magic generations from now, she could not stomach the bloodshed involved in Voledemort's world. She desired pure blood, and held it in the highest regard, but also held no ill will towards Muggles, or even the Half Blooded, she felt no inclination to rid the world of them. Her father, who was the type of man to route for the winning side had accepted so many soon-to-be-Death Eater. He was not the gambling type, and would not risk his safety and that of his families unless he was absolutely certain he had chosen the winning side. If this was so, a lot of blood would be spilt before the school year commenced. These thought swirled around in her head for quite some time before her exhaustion began to take hold of her, the warmth of the room cradled her and she was finally pulled into a deep slumber.
