The whispers followed her around the school, and it was maddening. Everyone had expected her to be like her parents. A Gryffindor, a hero. Since those expectations were subverted they had other plans, other roles for her to fill. She could not stand to be shoved into that box again. In her mind she could hear her so called family. Freak. She had thought being a witch would be different, but from the beginning they already had an idea of who she should be. The Girl-Who-Lived. Heather was so glad, angry yet glad, that she hadn't been put into the brave or the loyal house. Because then the only way to escape would be to go into the box and make it her own.
It would have been etiquette lessons with Aunt Petunia all over again. It didn't matter that in school she learned girls could act just like boys did. Petunia thought that to be reminded of her proper place in the world as a girl she might make Heather less abnormal. At first she fought and screamed and refused to wear the dresses, hurled the books… But none of that changed anything. She was put back in the cupboard, she was punished, and then she was still told she had to do it. They thought she was a brat, an uncontrollable freak, and they still tried to make her do what they wanted.
Heather had an epiphany then. This war she was fighting would never end. Her family would keep pushing her until she either caved or they could lock her away for good. So she studied hard. Became the perfect lady; so thoroughly filled their expectations that she exceeded them. Heather made a game out of it. She could run through the house, up and down stairs, cook, clean, and garden, with a book on her head. Perfect posture, perfect manners, perfect little niece. Magically things changed. Heather wasn't told to pretend she didn't exist when her aunt or uncle had guests over. At first because she was just so obedient and then because they couldn't stop without it seeming odd and upsetting their precious normality.
Every time they had over friends or workmates, she was there cooking, serving tea, being just so polite, a proper young girl. They had to take every complement on her behalf, know that in this small way she was better than them, knew how to act more normal than them. Of course she made mistakes, was caught out eating more than polite for a young woman, not quite having the right reaction when Dudley was taunting her. While every smug admonishment felt like a failure on her part, she just continued to try and be better - to not only know but become better than they ever were. Because someday they would have to admit it, the world would have to admit that Heather Lilly Potter was better than her family, better than anyone who tried to put her beneath them.
Which brought her back to Hogwarts and why she was glad she wasn't in Gryffindor, she didn't want to do that from inside a box. Heather had thought that she'd finally be free of the expectations of others. There were still plenty of traps to fall into, but the hardest on of all for her to resist would be the one where everyone had already admitted she was better than them. That she was the greatest person in the whole wizarding world with maybe no possible exceptions for something she couldn't even remember. It would be so easy to be complacent, to believe that she was the best without even trying to reach her full potential. That would have been the trap of Gryffindor. The traps in Slytherin seemed easier to navigate for all that she had a lot of catching up to do.
Slytherins were expected to be ambitious, she had ambition. Slytherins were said to be dark, she decided at the Dursleys she was never meant to be a hero when she couldn't even save herself. Slytherins were seen as evil, it was evil to pretend to be something you weren't. Most importantly, Slytherins were expected to be cunning, Heather would learn how to turn their expectations into something better than the real thing.
All of that sounded good but plans and determination aside, she had no idea how to go about doing it. Muggle etiquette just didn't cover these sorts of situations. Maybe there was a wizarding guide, Magical Manners for the Wily Witch. Heather would ask her housemates if they would just talk to her!
Everyone ELSE in this school has something to say to me or about me. She almost couldn't wait until someone in her house said something, no matter how horrid it was likely to be. Not that they were being awful exactly. Parkinson had made it clear that the first year girls were to stick together even beyond the house unity rule. Millicent had suggested a study group in which they all participated in once a week. Even Davis had consented to have mindless, meaningless polite conversations with her. The older students in her house pretended she didn't exist unless Heather specifically asked them a question. The younger ones just talked around her, but everyone responded to her comments easily and then moved on.
Like Aunt Petunia's tea parties, nothing of substance was said but she had the feeling she was being judged. They were waiting for a sign, for her to perform as they expected, and unlike the rest of the school, Slytherin wasn't going to tell her which box they wanted her in. Instead they'd let her pick a box and see if they liked the one she climbed into. It was freeing. It was maddening. Heather wondered what they'd do if she refused to stay in one box.
Watching the upperclassmen interact, she was starting to get an idea of just what it meant to be a Slytherin beyond the labels people gave them. There were deals, bets, competitions and all of it seemed like a game – like it didn't matter. The loser would just weigh it at a later point and see if the scales tipped his way. People talked about serious matters inside the common room, politics and news, but anywhere else they only mentioned school gossip. Everyone seemed at least a year ahead in theory if not spell work of where they should be. They looked down on the rest of Hogwarts, and everyone let them like they agreed with the behavior. And in the middle of all this, in the middle of all the almost incomprehensible qualities of Slytherin was Draco Malfoy.
He hated her, Heather was sure of it. He made snarky comments, thinly veiled references to her. He partnered with her in every class to be sure he could not only show off how much ahead of her he was, but that he was just so confused as to why she couldn't seem to keep up. He went out of his way to criticize in the most condescending way possible everything she did in every class. It was perfectly natural for her to hate him back. It had absolutely no bases on the snap judgement she had made on the train. So, just like with the Druselys, she set out to prove herself better than him.
Heather was always sure to be nicer to him than he was to her. Every time he made a comment about her classwork, she thanked him for his help. She referred to him by his last name and made no comment when he made a mistake. When he began to say rude things in her presence about others she said that she disagreed and left it at that. He was picking on her blatantly, but instead of doing anything about it, everyone seemed to be waiting to see how she would react. Heather spent every free moment trying to catch up, but no amount of studying was going to change Malfoy. There was an anger growing inside her, but she bottled it up. At least until potions at the end of the first week.
Being singled out was shocking, especially with the house rule of unity in front of the rest of the school, but she managed to answer the torrent of questions correctly. While Professor Snape seemed displeased she had actually read the introduction to the book and not just the first chapter, he did finally move on. His tone was rather mean as he said, "Congratulations, Miss Potter you appear to know that fame isn't everything and actually opened you text before coming to class. A point for Slytherin." Sneering as he glanced around the rest of the class and shouted. "Why aren't you all copying this down?"
In the sudden bustle of everyone rushing for their supplies, Malfoy leaned over with a small smile. "Well obviously being famous for getting your parents brutally murdered wouldn't be everything." He could have been meaning it as commiseration, he could have just been doing his usual teasing, but something in Heather snapped. After years of hearing about how her parents were worthless drunks and then finding out they were heroes and had died saving her, she couldn't just take that insult from him on top of listening to him all week.
Ink jars on the workbenches exploded, the jars on the walls of strange preserved things followed suit, and she could still feel all of her pent up anger welling up out of her. The class room erupted into shrieks and people tried to climb under their tables. It felt good to let it all out. Then Malfoy did what he had been doing since she met him and ruined everything. His hands slammed into her hard, shocking her as she fell onto the floor. He was staring at her like she was at him – somewhat shocked at the other's actions. "Miss Potter, Mister Malfoy, Detention tonight at seven."
Professor Snape's voice caused both of them to flinch and Heather got up, trying to avoid cutting herself on the glass. At his direction, everyone who had been caught in a rain of glass moved up to the front of the room to have it magicd away. The rest of the period was canceled. She collected her things and without looking at Malfoy, Heather spoke in a low voice. "Don't ever mention my parents, ever again."