Malfoy Manor was once a grand estate. The blackened brick made those who dared to come near it tremble with fear, and the large iron gates kept unwanted visitors away. The property was hidden well with hedges resembling a maze where one could easily get lost. At this hour, a heavy fog cloaked the manor in gray, and the air was heavy and thick.
Io's boots sank into the pebbles leading up to the gate. The mark of each footstep quickly fizzled away, the ground enchanted to hide who was inside. Her chest rose and sunk, savoring the last breaths of free air she'd be able to take before stepping forward.
The morning Io left the small home back in London, she didn't know where to go or even how to start. She slipped out of Aster's grip as she slept. The bed was so warm, and for a moment, Io considered waiting just one more day. Maybe one day more would be enough to finally be ready. She knew though that she had been ready for a while, and the months spent with her sister and uncle were really for their benefit, not hers.
When Io reached for the door, she hadn't expected Altair to already be awake. He'd been waiting for her, silently sipping his coffee in the large armchair he spent so much time in.
"Is it that time already?" Altair lowered that day's copy of the Daily Prophet. "I didn't think someone as sentimental as you would be able to leave without saying goodbye."
Io didn't dare turn to face him because seeing him there could have been enough to keep her there.
Altair placed his hand on her shoulder.
She reached for his hand, giving it a gentle push away. "Are you going to stop me?"
"Wouldn't dream of it," he sighed. "Well, I suppose I would dream of it. But I know you're ready."
Instead of lingering, Altair reached around and opened the door before walking back to his chair. Without another word, he took another sip of his coffee and went back to reading.
She always admired that about her uncle. He never lingered. He knew when to stop prying. Even when the twins found out about their parents' Death Eater history, he never pushed anything other than the memories he held. That was all.
Close enough to feel the chill floating off the black iron, Io raised her wand, and a green spark shot up into the air, leaving a trail of smoke all the way down below.
There was a snap, and a person appeared in front of her, separated by the gate. The man looked her up and down with curiosity.
"I don't think you have any business here." His voice was gravely and worn.
"I wish to speak to the master of the house," she commanded.
"I doubt the master of the house wants anything to do with you."
Io's eyes, even in the fog, were piercing, nearly a pale shade of white. She stared the man down, and repeated herself. "I wish to speak to the master of the house."
The stranger took a step back. Something about her tone made him more curious. He waved his wand across the gate's lock, and it swung open. He grabbed her forearm hastily, nearly lifting her off the ground. "Well, you don't weigh very much, do you? Don't mind the grip - can't have you running off."
The man led her into the manor. The temperature must have dropped ten degrees when she stepped inside. The first floor was all marble and stone. Aside from the large dead fireplace, there was only a grand staircase. He pulled her along up the stairs, and she did what she could to keep her composure as her shoes would catch the occasional edge.
Upstairs, all the furnishings were black, dimly lit by a weak fire at the side of the sitting room. There was only one chair, and above the fireplace, where a large portrait would normally sit, was a charred black spot.
"Don't move." The man dropped her arm and walked off into a corridor. She could hear muffled voices arguing about the late hour before two sets of footsteps headed towards her.
None other than Bellatrix Lestrange emerged. She strutted around Io like a predator observing its prey. "And what have we here? A little black bird with a healed wing. Come to have it broken again?" Her voice hissed.
"Are you the master of the house?" Io said, still looking forward as not to entertain the snickering witch.
"What do you have to say to the master of the house?" Bellatrix grabbed a lock of Io's hair, twisting it around her finger. She held the lock to her nose, breathing in deeply. "You don't reek of dirty blood…"
Io just stood.
Bellatrix let go of her hair, backing up a few feet. She held her wand out, tracing her chin before pointing it at the unwelcome guest. "If it's the Dark Lord you wish to speak to, I'm afraid you'll have to speak to me first."
A red spark rushed out of Bellatrix's wand. Io rebounded the curse, knocking one of the chandeliers above their heads.
Bellatrix charged again, rapid firing at the young girl with enough force to break down a stone wall, but every curse was deflected, hitting everything in sight. Her face changed, realizing Io would not back down so easily.
The two witches stood across from each other, wands at the ready.
"Crucio!"
Io had never cast an Unforgivable curse before. It felt different than anything she'd ever tried. It was like a shock through her arm, but frost rose up her spine. There was an anger inside, a liquid fire, and it traveled up her throat, through her arm, until it shot out of the end of her wand. Its core was not used to this kind of magic, not accustomed to this feeling of hatred. And yet, with this, Io felt more connected to the wand's soul.
Bellatrix's eyes were wide as she pushed the curse down to the floor, landing in between them with a crackling thud. "Enough!" She screeched, and it echoed, bouncing off the high ceilings.
Io was shaking with adrenaline, but kept her wand up.
"Who are you?" Another voice called from the hallway.
It was another woman, resembling Bellatrix, though her hair was an icy blonde. It was the same woman from her parents' memories. She was Draco's mother, Narcissa.
She stood tall, rolling her shoulders back. Making eye contact with the woman, she spoke slowly and clearly. "Io Visage."
The two older witches looked at each other. Bellatrix charged forward, grabbing Io by her hair. Her nose touched the side of Io's face, voice just above whisper. "Liar."
Narcissa stepped in between them, holding Io's face in one hand and studying it closely. Her eyes trailed down her features - her hair, her eyes, her lips - then she backed away, gazing still. "What are you doing here?"
"Cissy, she's lying!" Bellatrix raised her wand threateningly.
"She's not lying."
"Ion and Aeris had twins - where's the other one?"
"Gone." Io was firm. "She would not come with me."
"You'd leave your own sister to come here?" Bellatrix was doubtful. "That's cold of you, dearie, but I don't believe you. It's a shame you had to come all this way just to die."
Bellatrix rolled up her left sleeve, revealing her Dark Mark which was as bold as ever. Within seconds, there was a snap on the upper staircase. The room fell dark.
There were many times when the twins had imagined what it'd be like to be in Voldemort's presence, but no stretch of the imagination could have compared to this. It was colder - like being wrapped in a Dementor's embrace, and the air was thin. It was difficult to breathe, and any sound that tried to come out of Io's throat was trapped, choking her vocal chords. She stayed silent. Any wrong move would be the end of her, and she didn't come this far to die now.
"My lord," both women spoke, bowing their heads.
Io knew she couldn't show any weakness. She gripped her wand tightly to her side, ready to apparate out of sight should the worst happen.
Voldemort looked down at all three of them. When he walked, it was like he was gliding through the room. A large python slithered at his ankles, bearing its fangs at the sight of her.
Bellatrix pointed at Io's face with her wand, still suspicious. "My lord, this girl claims to be the daughter of Aeris and Ion Visage."
When the Dark Lord looked at Io, she felt small and insignificant. His eyes were pale and strong, and they looked right through her. "And what is the supposed daughter of Ion doing here?"
"I want to join you."
Bellatrix stepped forward. "My lord, let me -"
"Wand down, Bellatrix." He eased her with a voice just above a whisper, then turned to Io with a malicious grin, almost curious and playful. "You have your mother's gaze. She would have been my favorite had she not been so weak. Such power and grace. However, sharing her eyes does not prove you are her child. And claiming your father's name does not guarantee that you will be held in the same regard."
Hearing someone like Lord Voldemort speak about her parents with an ominous high regard was confusing. It was pride, but it was toxic pride. Just from her father's memories alone, there was no indication of how they were viewed let alone respected. Especially knowing how Aeris used to look - youthful, glowing, and charming - conflicting with how Death Eaters saw her - dark, worn, and hollow - it wasn't comforting. No, it did enough to shake Io's view of them both. Ion must have put on a new face behind the mask. If Voldemort saw her mother's torment as a sign of grandeur, then he was more cruel than she could have ever imagined.
She hoped there would never be a day when she'd have to see those strange faces.
Narcissa spoke up. "My lord, I think I know someone who can prove her lineage."
The flicker of fear that washed over Io's eyes sparked into wildfire. Draco emerged from the darkness, and she felt her mouth go dry. He walked down the stairs slowly, eyes scanning the room before landing on her. It took everything in him not to run to her and demand she tell him why she was there. She pushed her urges aside as did he as he approached her like nothing more than an acquaintance.
"Draco," Narcissa placed her hands on his shoulders, her graceful fingers easing the slightest bit of pressure on his coat. "You know her, don't you?"
Bellatrix grabbed her nephew by the arm, pulling him in front of Io. She raised her wand again. "Who is she?"
Their eyes connected. There was a stillness in Io's face that he'd never seen before. Without hesitation, Draco answered, "Io Visage."
The two sisters had different reactions, but after hearing his answer, there was an ease that washed over their faces. Narcissa appeared to relax, while Bellatrix's face erupted in a crooked grin. "And how do you know?"
"She and As… She and her sister were my schoolmates."
Bellatrix released Draco's arm, turning her attention to Io. "It seems I was mistaken about you, dearie. Though you do look awfully like your mother. And your father. Shame they couldn't be here to welcome you." She stroked Io's face, running a long black fingernail down her neck. "They'd be proud, wouldn't they, Cissy? Their little black bird is here to serve the Dark Lord alongside her superiors."
Io couldn't bring herself to speak as hers and Draco's eyes stayed on each other.
"Bellatrix, I do believe our new guest might be best under your charge." Voldemort commanded, looking down. "Train her. Make sure she is indeed ready to join us, and only when you decide will she receive her mark. Should she fail, well," he chuckled. "You know what to do. Narcissa, bring her to a room. Make sure she is… comfortable."
Narcissa led Io upstairs deeper into the manor. The further in, the colder it got. She stopped in front of a bedroom, pushing the door open, and letting Io go. Narcissa gave her one last look before closing the door.
Io rushed to the door handle, holding it still as if at any moment someone could blast their way in. She rested her forehead on the wood, her breaths suddenly rapid.
Draco stood on the other side of the door. He pressed his ear against the chipping paint, listening. He knew she was in there, and he could feel her distress even though they were separated. He grabbed the handle, noticing the faint sound of the bolts trembling.
"Io," he whispered. "Let me in."
She knew he couldn't see her, but she shook her head feverishly, not wanting him to see until she calmed down.
His hand was still on the gold doorknob. After a few seconds, he tried again, and this time the door swung open.
Io was facing the window, arms wrapped around her torso.
Draco watched as Io's chest rose and fell. The gloss over her eyes, her hair draped over her shoulders. The words just kept getting lost in the ether the longer he looked at her. She looked different now. Though it had only been months, he could see all the changes - the way she spoke, the way her hair fell. He approached her slowly, arm outstretched. His hand rested on her shoulder, and he could feel her flinch. Her fingers slowly found his, and they instinctively intertwined together.
Io's nerves eased as he wrapped his arms around her, his nose breathing into the back of her neck.
"Are you real?" Draco whispered. "Are you really here right now?"
"Draco, I can't -"
Just as soon as she calmed down, her emotions flew upward until she couldn't breathe anymore. Everything was trapped in her chest. She bit down on her lip to hold back the urge to scream until the taste of blood enveloped her mouth.
Draco turned her around, taking her face in his hands. Her eyes were shut tight, brimming with scorching tears. The fear was wafting off her, and he could feel all of it.
Io never imagined this part, being inside and only floors away from the Dark Lord. The fear, the crippling terror, she knew everyone felt was finally here. No amount of training, no amount of sweet conversation could have prepared her for this. She missed her sister. She wished she'd said goodbye. There was no going back now, and only in this moment did she realize it.
Draco hushed her, putting the slightest bit of pressure on her temples. They stayed like that for a while until he could feel her relax.
Io tried to speak, stuttering through the phantom tremors.
"Why are you here?"
She looked up. Io knew it was him, but something in her head tried to tell her it was all a dream. Draco was really in front of her right now, trying to make her feel safe in the one place no one was.
He kissed her forehead and let his lips linger. Even now, he could smell the sweetness of her perfume, bringing him back to that day in the Room of Requirement. The girl he fell in love with was truly in front of him, and after months of trying to drown in his dreams if only to see her again, wisped away by her touch, he found himself hoping.
Io pulled back slightly, so she could see his eyes again. His thumb stroked her cheek softly. She took her hand in his and brought it up to her lips, kissing his palm and sighing into his touch.
Though she still couldn't find her words, Draco knew. Maybe he just wanted to hear it out loud, but regardless, her presence reassured him of what he'd held as a small hope deep inside, tucked away from the others.
She found him.