"What is Father doing, will it take all day?" I raise an eyebrow at him, but Aster keeps focusing on the board in front of us. He's losing, badly of course. I have his king pinned to a corner, I just need to move my queen on my next turn, but he is taking a rather annoyingly long time to figure out which pieces he's going to move next. His face is scrunched up and his curly blonde hair looks like he's placed a mop on his head. Pure concentration in his soft eyes.
"Perhaps." I reply, playing with the hem of the robe around my wrists.
Not deigning to get dressed this morning apart from throwing on a black dressing robe over my nightgown. It wasn't awfully cold, but the storm brewing earlier was enough for me to throw it on.
He makes a humming sound across from me, and leans even further over the chess pieces. As if an aerial view gives him an advantage.
Aster hasn't grasped the magic part of wizard chess quite yet. He finds it boring to just watch the pieces move on their own. I, on the other hand, find it rather entertaining to see them smash each other into dust. So against a knight's will he grabs the horse and moves it closer to my pawn. Excellent.
I smirk, "Queen to E6." It's satisfying to watch my queen move, dismantle the king and Asters pout in sadness for the third loss this morning. If only he would play properly, he might learn something and actually be good. I chuckle, pull myself up to sit straight, and lean against one arm that's still placed on the carpet. My robes tugging at my shoulder so I shrug them to pull the fabric loose.
"You must be cheating." He frowns at the dismantled pieces, head tilted to the side, watching the board as if replaying all of the moves that lead to his inevitable demise. His legs stretch out behind him toward the fireplace, and the rain starts coming down heavier hitting the windows behind it.
Aster hates losing, which is odd for someone who experiences it often. However not a sore loss, just a pouting one.
"Never, only wiser, Aster." I reply calmly with an amused glint in my eye.
He doesn't acknowledge my response, instead scooting closer to the blazing fire and places his forehead to the carpet in defeat. I chuckle at him.
He's an idiot and makes me question why my parents decided to have another child nearly a decade ago.
Across the expanse of the open living room is my fathers study. It's opposite the doorway which is aligned perfectly so I saw him enter earlier. The door is shut, and I can make out his hurried footsteps as he paces. Wearing a trench into the fine blue carpet. What on earth could he be nervous about? He's been like this all morning, pacing and hushed whispers. He'd never admit it of course, but even the air felt tense this morning.
For the last two hours he'd been a wreck, snapping at anyone. Nothing makes him nervous, nothing he would admit anyway. I could almost feel bad for the house elves if I were in their shoes but I dismissed that thought immediately because of the absurd nature.
So I had chosen to avoid him, much like everyone else, on this dreary morning. Usually Evan would be following him like a lost dog, but I hadn't heard a whisper of him at all today. Assuming he's out on some stupid secret business of my Fathers. Like always.
Thinking of him brings my thoughts back to the other night, my library, and Hermione. Such odd books she was trying to sneak out. I'll have to question her again whenever she's alone. With my brother gone, it might be a good idea to attempt. Without his hounding eyes on her constantly, we might actually get two seconds for questioning.
I sigh deeply, and continue watching the door curiously.
My mother decides to approach the office after appearing from the grand stairwell by the entrance. She hesitates to knock, but when she does the door is pulled open abruptly.
My father is a tall man, and my mother is a short, delicate woman. So his eyes bore down to hers before he is straightening his black and blue suit, tidying his mess of hair, then following after her out the main door to the courtyard. I bunch my eyebrows together in concentration and listen for anything to give away who he is expecting. They both hurry outside, Their feet hitting the concrete slabs but due to the rain I hear nothing else. Merely the muffled conversations and a car pulling up on the gravel drive.
"Eavesdropping is bad, you know." I shoot Aster a glare, he's grinning at me with a toothy little smile. I wave my hand above the board, assembling all of the broken pieces and sliding them back into place. The chess board looked shiny and new after several seconds.
"No, it's bad for little boys that want to keep their ears intact." His eyes look watery, as if the threat of cutting his ears off for listening in, would actually happen. It could, I won't lie, and most likely for eavesdropping, but that's not something I'll say out loud… yet. Besides, he's staring at me and I can't stand the uncomfortableness for another second. So I cough into the back of my free hand and instead ask, "Another game?" His bottom lip is wobbling. Such a child… Well, he is. And it's beyond annoying.
"If he doesn't, I'll take you up on that offer, NIghtshade." My back bolt upright and I glare at the doorway. Draco Malfoy stands there, leaning against the wooden door frame looking relaxed, smirking. HIs usually blonde hair is soaked, as well as the shoulders on his black tailored suit. Does he wear anything else? I wonder.
Even during our time at Hogwarts, and the dances that take place yearly, it's always that black suit and a scowl. Never a date on his arm.
I spy his parents behind him, following my own into my Fathers study. He looks calmer, but I wouldn't doubt that under the mask of sudden indifference he's raging. The Malfoys themselves looking irate, steam pouring from their ears.
Ah. That explains it.
A powerful man indeed, but he'd be nothing without Lucius Malfoy and his support. The other Pureblood whispered and schemed right down his ear, to the Ministry and to whomever else would listen. He could get my father to meow if he wished.
Embarrassing for him, but oh so entertaining for me.
I realise I haven't spoken up since Dracos comment, and instead turn back to the board, and fold it away. He huffs and crosses over the threshold to sit with Aster by the fireplace. He looks pretty as ever, not that I'd voice my opinion. His face looks soft, his silver eyes bright and vibrant, his talented hands showing magic in the air to Aster. Dark wisps of shadows whip around him, like a black hare running from a fox. He's entranced with his little parlour trick.
"So they've got you babysitting?" I ask while watching their interaction.
"No more than you, Maxine." I cringe at the use of my full name and get to my feet. Brushing the dust from my robes and straightening out my long hair by flicking it over my shoulder.
Suddenly the shadows shape themselves into Hogwarts and Aster's eyes widen in delight, looking through all the archways, and the flickering of the windows to the towers and many courtyards.
"I'll be there soon!" He exclaims, leaning forward. "I'll sleep up here, oh oh and that's where I'll learn to fly, I'll have lunch out there!" He starts pointing to different places, I resist the urge to correct him.
I highly doubt that he'll ever attend much to my Father's displeasure. Aster is quite unremarkable as a wizard. At this rate he might not even get a letter. The stupid owl sensing his useless abilities might get lost or struck down on the harrowing journey out here.
I'm unsure how Draco is manifesting such things, the smoke pouring from his hands as thick as night. His own shimmering light flickers in his eyes. Such a strange guy.
Speaking of strange, I hear the familiar hurried footsteps out in the hall before I see her. Hermione. She enters the living room, takes an extremely brief pause once seeing who resides within, then continues on her way. Completely unbothered. Flicking her rickety wand this way and that, cleaning the fireplace and the surrounding furniture. Not lingering in one place too long. Moving like the smoke from Malfoy which was now dissipating much to Aster's annoyance.
They argue amongst themselves but I subtly watch her, a different dress today. A grey one, hugging her waist and covering every inch of skin, unlike the curtains my father threw on her the other night. At Least I can see her figure with these, my eyes have a hard time not lingering on specific areas. I gulp and survey elsewhere, deciding on her face. Still with the mask on the bridge of her nose. She doesn't seem to mind it, there's no signs of scratches or redness around her eyes indicating she's tried to remove it.
She moves across to the other side by the windows, and brings out a cloth, floating it around them, dusting the edges before wiping the glass. Her hands looked soft under the light now filtering through the rain clouds. I clench my hands into fists. That's enough of staring. I take a second to bid goodbye to Malfoy, and walk out. I'd look like a fool if I kept watching. Besides, I have more important things to do.
With a watchful eye, I quietly but quickly walk into my library, taking many corners around high bookshelves before coming to a painting. WIth a glance behind me and to either side I grip the frame and slowly pull it away from the wall.
Coming close to the smaller door, I whisper "Alohomora." The lock clinks and the door is pushed open.
I take a deep breath and duck into the tunnel, the door and painting sliding shut behind me.
I reach out my arm, my fingertips against the cold stone, leading me foot after foot in the pitchblack. I've been down here enough in my formative years I remember the way. In several minutes I'm at my Fathers study, peering through a vent, breathing slowly and evenly. Watching through the gaps.
My Father is seated at his desk, my mother by his side, a hand resting on his left shoulder. Lucius, Malfoys father is sat across from him, lip curled back in a snarl.
"Are you a fool Darius?" He all but growls across the wooden desk, my father has the decency not to flinch. "If the Ministry hears about this, it won't just be your head they take, but my own as well!"
He slams his fists on my Fathers desk. Startling his wife who is peering through the many bookcases, hand pressing against the glass as she reads the titles. Appearing disinterested but I have no doubt she is listening to every movement in that room. She's a clever one, Narcissa Malfoy. Beautiful, commanding, a strong woman, holds her own against Lucius from what I've witnessed. Nothing like my own mother who hasn't said a word. I can certainly admire that.
"I'm well aware of the consequences, Lucius, but what else could I have done?" He huffs, back rigid in his chair. Mother to his side has the courtesy to look towards him with concern, he spares her a glance before continuing. "He asked it of me, and you know I could not refuse."
The Dark Lord?
What would he possibly want with my father? I thought he was dead anyway, or in hiding.
Lucius has the gall to look insulted, as if he is of higher authority than him. His cane is clasped in his hand as it rests on the floor, pressing hard enough to leave a groove.
"He asks many things, Darius, but this? You would do this to me and my family?" He's bristling with rage. His silver eyes and inferno.
"I had no choice." My Father sounds quiet, but his words are firm. I don't doubt that he did all he could, and wouldn't have acted brashly. Not after our families long standing civility and companionship. It must be decades now. I assume there were no other options and very little time to answer what he was being asked, especially from You-Know-Who.
Lucious barks a laugh, mocking.
I lean further into the vent, shuffling on my feet as quietly as I can.
"Then you will pay for what you've done." Lucius stands from his chair, kicks it out behind him and leans over the desk, getting close, cane smacking into the surface by my Fathers hands. Breathing deeply like a dragon about to burst with roaring flames. Narcissa comes closer, hand poised on her wand. "If he is punished for your actions, I will come back here and kill you myself." Lucius bites.
WIthout another word he leaves with a swish of his cloak, grabs his wife who I could swear casts an amused look in my direction and slams the door behind him. I hear a quick summons for Draco before all three of them are gone.
I'm not sure I've taken a breath in several minutes.
It's utterly still in the manor. Not even my father looks like he's breathing, his skin has turned pale as a ghost.
I start to make my way back through the tunnel but his voice causes a pause, my hand already braced against the wall for support.
"Come here." He says quietly, my mother backs away and attempts to speak. But my father is too quick. He rises from his chair and grabs the back of her head. Forcing it to the desk. Angry, the calmness gone as he grips her. "You never fucking do anything, do you, my dear. Quiet and lovely as a fucking snake, but when you need to speak up you what, hm?" He leans into her, coming behind her. Snarling in her ear. "When you're supposed to support me, when MY WIFE is supposed to stick her neck out, for my own benefit. What is it you do, my love?"
She whimpers as his grip hardens. It'll bruise that's for sure.
"You never fucking learn, so what will it take?" He asks, growling more down at her. Using his stature to pin her body beneath him.
I gulp and decide I don't hate my mother enough to witness this further.
Retreating back to my library is the easy part, but not telling what's on the side of the painting urges me to stop. I press my ear to the door, not hearing anything for several moments and unlock it to climb out. As it's closing behind me I hear a squeak of surprise.
I turn my head and I'm greeted with that ashen blonde hair and black mask.
"I-I'm sorry. I d-din't mean to intrude. I had no idea you we-"
I roll my eyes. "That's enough." She gulps and nods. After a few beats of silence she pivots, making her leave when I stop her.
"Wait." She turns to face me, her eyes locking onto my own. "What were you doing here the other night?" I ask. Glad to have an opportunity to do so.
She freezes, assuming I'd forgotten or had dropped the issue. Which was never going to happen. Sneaking around in my home, alone, attempting to steal my books is not something I was willing to take lightly.
"Well go on, explain yourself." She shuffles on her feet. I watch her as I take a seat on a table, my toes barely scraping the floor. She still says nothing but from judging her face her thoughts are indeed swirling. Perhaps deciding the option in which she gets a lesser punishment. "You already know I don't like being kept waiting, Hermione." The use of her name feels delightfully pleasant on my tongue.
" I uh I like reading." She murmurs.
Sure, and I'm a thestral.
"But there's more to it than that, isn't there?" I ask with a raised eyebrow. "I can only assume you were told this area was off limits, as well as all the other staff are upon arrival. I have a very select few I allow in. And you, Hermione, aren't one of them." She squirms further.
"Y-You're right, but, there's no other library here Miss."
"Master." I correct her. Even hearing her call me ma'am the other night was… uncomfortable. "It's Master to you, mudblood. Nothing else." She nods. "But still, that's not an appropriate excuse to go through someone else's property, let alone to steal books on powerful memory charms." She flinches and takes a step backwards into a shelf. "Is it?"
Her lip trembles.
WIth no further step she drops to her knees, forehead pressed on the floor. Her hair splayed all over her shoulders, shaking. "No it's not. I shouldn't have. I'm so sorry, I won't come in here again, I promise. Please please. I won't. I'll stay away. Please don't tell your brother." She sobs, trembling from fear, or something else I can't tell. The high pitch of her shaky voice sounds magnificent. Oh how I do love grovelling and begging. She might as well be tugging on my non existent heart strings.
I smirk, the sight of a pretty girl on her knees is pleasing to me. So I hop off the desk, step forward and pull her hair back to grab her attention. I don't tug it too hard but she winces and her lips part. There's a little glimmer in her eyes I can't place, not realising it's reflecting on my own. Her brown eyes bore into mine, slightly rimmed red and glistening. Her mouth agape as she holds back a squeak or some other sound as my fingers wind tighter so she doesn't struggle.
With my hand still gripped in her hair, forcing eye contact I speak again.
"Until you tell me your actual reason, you'll not be leaving my sight. UNderstood?"
She gulps, hard. "Yes Master."
Her voice sends a pulse to my core.
I'm definitely going to have fun with this one.
A/N : This is so fun for me to write I'm really enjoying it :) and finally we have my oc name revealed!