A/N: Not mine.
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When Abelinda heard the voice, her blood ran cold. It sounded inhuman and somewhat snakelike. She slowly turned in her seat to look toward the doorway. There stood a man, or something that resembled a man. She turned back to Lucius.
"I understand that I'm adopted but this joke, you're taking this too far." She said, trying to remain calm.
Her face was unfathomable but inside she was trembling and her mind was going crazy. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
This can't be happening. She thought. This is all a nightmare. I've fallen asleep on the train and when I open my eyes I'll still be in the compartment with Blaise and Draco.
Abelinda slowly opened her eyes and immediately jerked back. Voldemort stood directly in front of her, looking at her through red eyes.
"I assure you, this is no joke." He hissed. "And this isn't a nightmare."
"Iustus a nightmare, iustus a nightmare." She chanted in Latin. Just a nightmare, just a nightmare.
Voldemort looked at Lucius sharply.
"She speaks Latin?" He asked.
"Yes, My Lord. Spanish, Italian, French and German also." Lucius replied, his eyes downcast.
"Quod Russian quod Cupiditas." Abelinda added in Latin.
"Russian and Greek too? I am impressed. You've raised her well, Lucius." Voldemort said, turning back to Abelinda.
Abelinda stood and walked to the door.
"Where are you going?" Voldemort asked sharply. "I haven't dismissed you."
Abelinda turned and gave him a look that could kill.
"I don't have to be dismissed by you. You have no right." She said and walked out.
Walking quickly up the stairs, Abelinda put as much space between her and Voldemort as she could. She ran up to her room and slammed the door. She took in her room; it had been a long time since she had been in here. She took in black walls, the black queen size bed with its black comforter. The black desk that held her quills and ink, her black bookshelves, the black wardrobe, and the black leather chair sitting by the window. Abelinda often spent her summer days in that chair, reading and looking out over her mother's rose garden.
Well, she really isn't my mother. Abelinda thought.
She looked at the door that would lead to a black and silver bathroom.
She walked to the middle of the room and began pacing. Abelinda realized that she still had the werewolf book in her hand. She turned and threw it at the wall, leaving a dent.
"Have a temper, do we?" Asked a voice.
Abelinda spun around to see Voldemort standing not three feet away from her.
"Can't EGO velieris in meus own cella, in pacis?" She asked in Latin. Can't I hide in my own room, in peace?
"You wouldn't listen to me downstairs. I thought you might listen to me up here." He explained.
"Not bloody likely." She growled.
"I'm your father!" he bellowed.
"Biologically, yes. In any other way, Lucius is." She said, and then she turned to leave her room.
"Are you sure you don't want to know who your mother is?" he asked.
Abelinda stopped.
"Thought that might stop you." He said. "She was beautiful. Long black hair, black eyes, she was Italian. When she was twenty-two, she was bitten by a vampire. I had the best Potions Master concoct a potion that would stop her insatiable thirst for blood."
Abelinda looked at him, slightly pale.
"You're half vampire, you don't need blood. Your mother died when you were born. I had already gone after Potter." He said, spitting out Harry's last name.
Abelinda was trying to make sense of it all.
"If you weren't even… here when I was born, how did I end up with the Malfoy's?" she finally asked.
Voldemort looked at her and smiled coldly.
"Your mother and Narcissa Malfoy were very good friends. Narcissa was there when you were born. As Amaranta… began to fade, she asked Narcissa to raise you as her own. And so they named you Abelinda Ave Malfoy. Now it's Riddle. So your name means beautiful serpent hail." Voldemort paused. "Now I suppose it should have been Ave Abelinda, hail beautiful serpent."
"You're not changing my name. I like it the way it is." She said firmly.
Voldemort chuckled darkly.
"Of course. I will leave you to your thoughts now." He said then he was gone.
Abelinda slowly walked to her bed and sat down cross legged on it.
My mother's name meant flower that never fades. It was Italian. Like Blaise. She thought.
As she began to think even more, exhaustion came and sleep enveloped her.