A/N: Hello! Hello, welcome to my first HP fanfic. Thank you so much for clicking on this fic and deciding to give it a chance. I hope you end up enjoying it. Thank you to suniwrites who beta read and edited this chapter. Before you start, I want to make it clear that I mean business when I say this is an AU. While certain elements of canon will remain, I'll be making significant changes—some to address plot holes JKR left behind, changes that have nothing to do with my OC, and also changes to things that never made sense to me in canon. So don't be surprised if you come across some major differences. Without further ado, I present you the first chapter of this story!
February 17th, 1985
"Can I open my eyes now?"
"Just a moment, ma poupette, we're almost there," her father said, his voice soothing as he gently guided her forward by the arm.
"Papa, I know we're going to your office."
He paused, a hint of amusement in his tone. "And how do you know that?"
"I go there from my room every day, Papa. I could find my way even with my eyes closed, like now!"
She heard him chuckle. "That's quite impressive."
She puffed out her chest slightly and lifted her chin, her face still covered by her small hands. "I'm an impressive girl."
His laughter grew, warm and rich. "Indeed, you are. Which is exactly why… alright, open your eyes now."
Cynthia's eyes fluttered open, and she blinked rapidly, adjusting to the light. She was indeed in her father's study, a room she knew well from her daily visits—a spacious area lined with tall, dark oak bookshelves brimming with dusty volumes, the plush carpet a rich burgundy underfoot, and the heavy drapes pulled back to let in the golden afternoon light. Everything was as grand and as familiar as the back of her hand.
But today, there was something new. Her gaze landed on a startling addition to the room—an intricately designed child's desk, perfectly scaled down to her size. The desk was a vibrant shade of cherry red, a stark contrast to the otherwise muted tones of the room. The surface was glossy and inviting, with some of her books and parchment already placed there.
Cynthia let out a gasp of sheer delight and ran towards it, her small hands touching the smooth, cool wood. The desk featured several small drawers, each with a crystal knob that glittered like a tiny star.
"Do you like it?" her father asked, his eyes watching her with anticipation.
"I love it, Papa! Is this just for me?" She couldn't stop the wide grin that spread across her face as she explored every nook.
"Every inch of it. You come here a lot, isn't it about time you have your own little corner? You can draw, read, or do your homework while I work. What do you think?"
Cynthia spun around, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. "It's the best gift ever! Thank you, Papa!"
He hugged her back, just as tightly. "Anything for my impressive girl," he whispered.
As Cynthia settled into her new desk, her father watched from his much larger, less colourful desk across the room, a content smile playing on his lips.
August 20th, 1994
The morning air in Malfoy Manor was charged with a palpable excitement as Cynthia darted through the hallways, her voice echoing off the walls. "Mother! Father! It's finally here!" Her feet barely touched the richly woven carpets as she spun around corners with the buoyancy of a child.
Her exuberant shouts gathered her family in the sitting room. Her parents appeared first, her mother's elegant dress flowing behind her, and her father's face lighting up with an eager grin. Draco, her ever-curious younger brother, trailed closely behind them.
Lucius' eyes immediately fixed on the thick envelope in her hands. "Is that it?" he asked, his voice holding the same excitement as her.
"Mmm-hmm," Cynthia nodded vigorously, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
Her mother placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, a silent plea for decorum that barely registered. Initially marked by a slight frown, Narcissa's expression soon softened, mirroring the infectious joy that filled the room. "Well, why don't you open it?"
Cynthia drew a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle around her. The envelope felt almost sacred in her hands—a gateway to her dream and a testament to the gruelling weeks of preparation that had her poring over texts and scrolls during the last month.
It was always her goal to become the youngest Potion Mistress in Europe, and the first step to achieving that was to take her Potions NEWTs early. Two months ago, right after finishing her OWLs and as soon as summer break started, she headed to the Ministry of Education so she could submit a petition to do so. When she heard about this, Professor Babbling had unexpectedly suggested Cynthia take her Ancient Runes NEWTs in advance as well. This was due to an innovative project Cynthia had done that apparently was the basis of the sixth year curriculum of the class.
Deciding to push her luck further, Cynthia also proposed—perhaps audaciously—to include History of Magic and Herbology in her early exams. The Ministry officials hesitated, their scepticism evident. They deliberated, weighing the unusual request against Cynthia's impressive academic record. Ultimately, they agreed, but with a strict condition: Cynthia had to achieve Outstanding grades on sixth-year exams for these subjects. To ensure she was up to the challenge, they had already marked her OWLs early, confirming she had received Outstanding grades in those subjects as well.
The ensuing weeks had been a blur of texts, plants, potions, and runes. Cynthia had essentially imprisoned herself in the library, her days marked only by brief forays out to wash up and meals delivered by the house-elves. The overwhelming workload had been a source of considerable stress, but now, two weeks after her exams, she felt a wave of relief and satisfaction.
She carefully tore open the envelope. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest as she unfolded the heavy parchment inside. Silence engulfed the room as every pair of eyes fixed on the parchment in her hands. Her eyes darted across the page, her breath catching in her throat. The tension she'd felt for weeks seemed to dissolve as she read the results, and a profound sense of relief washed over her. It was as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, replaced by a rush of unfiltered happiness.
"I passed! I passed all of them!" her voice trembled with the sheer magnitude of her emotions. A cheer erupted in the room.
Her face broke into a radiant smile, eyes sparkling with joy. The oppressive stress of the past weeks gave way to an overwhelming sense of achievement. She hugged the parchment to her chest, the warmth of her family's excitement enveloping her. Her mother's arms wrapped around her in a tight, comforting embrace, while her father took the piece of parchment from her to read it himself.
CYNTHIA LYRA AURÉLIE MALFOY HAS ACHIEVED
POTIONS : O*
HERBOLOGY: O
ANCIENT RUNES: O*
HISTORY OF MAGIC: O
Cynthia's academic excellence was not a newfound trait, but a consistent thread woven throughout her school years. The little asterisks indicating perfect scores were familiar companions on her transcripts, and the plus signs beside her 'O' grades, denoting scores above 95%, had become almost expected by everyone who knew her academic rigour and passion for learning.
"Perfect results, as always," her father said with unabashed pride.
"Does that mean we're going to have a party?" Draco asked, a teasing glint in his eye.
"Absolutely not. A formal dinner is all I can manage," Cynthia murmured, nestling her face into her mother's shoulder. "Besides, isn't attending the World Quidditch Cup extravaganza enough?"
"But it's the World Quidditch Cup!" Draco protested.
"You do realise there are many who would be desperate to attend this event, let alone to secure seats as prestigious as ours?" Lucius interjected, raising an eyebrow.
Cynthia detached from her mother and sauntered over to Draco. "Father, I would like to introduce you to Draco, your son. I am Cynthia, your daughter. Please try not to mix us up again."
Both Draco and Narcissa chuckled at this, while Lucius gave a mock scowl.
"I don't mean to sound ungrateful, Father, because I do recognize the importance of this event, and I do appreciate the efforts you took to get us our current seats. But I'm not interested nor am I invested in Quidditch as much as Draco is."
Lucius smiled and tenderly brushed her hair aside. "I understand, ma poupette, but finding the perfect gift for you has always been a challenge."
"Oh, look at the pot calling the kettle black. Draco and I dread your birthday—"
"Please leave me out of this," Draco interjected, half-amused.
"—because it's so difficult to shop for something you'd actually like. Sometimes I think I should just compile a booklet of promises like I did when I was a little girl."
"Oh, I would love another one of those. I cherished it when you made them," Lucius admitted with a fond look.
"Father," she groaned, "you're really not supporting my point here."
He lightly pinched her cheek. "I wasn't trying to. Now, come along, let's have breakfast, and we can plan a different way to celebrate your spectacular results."
"Oh, I'm going back to bed," Cynthia declared, turning towards the door.
Narcissa frowned. "But it's only eight in the morning."
"I know. My plan this summer is to get as much sleep as possible. Once school starts, sleep will be scarce, and I'm guessing it'll be even worse this year—they don't call it the 'Nearly Exhausting Wizarding Test' for nothing."
Narcissa's frown deepened with irritation as a realization dawned on her.. "Were you up late reading again?" she asked, her voice tinged with exasperation.
But Cynthia had already spun on her heel, calling back as she left, "I'll see you around noon, Mother!"
When the day of the World Quidditch Cup dawned, Cynthia was startled awake by the clamour of Draco's excitement echoing through the manor. She groaned, trying to burrow deeper into her blankets, but her brother was relentless. She could hear his footsteps thundering down the hallway, growing louder as he approached her room.
With all the finesse of a rampaging Hippogriff, Draco barged in, his enthusiasm practically vibrating off the walls. "Up, up, up, Cindy! It's time!" he exclaimed. He practically dragged her from her bed while she whined in protest, barely given a moment to adjust to being awake.
After grudgingly getting up, Cynthia shuffled to the lavatory to complete her morning rituals, hoping for a moment of peace. But Draco was still outside her door when she returned, thrusting clothes into her arms with an eagerness that made her sigh in resignation.
Now, in the lounge room, Cynthia sat, bleary-eyed but begrudgingly awake, nursing a cup of tea and nibbling on a breakfast sandwich. Across from her, Draco paced back and forth, tapping his foot, his agitation clear as ever.
They were waiting for their parents to finish getting ready. Lucius and Narcissa both took an inordinate amount of time primping and preening for outings, attending to every detail of their appearance. This habit often tested the patience of both Cynthia and Draco, who preferred quicker routines. Neither sibling had inherited this penchant for meticulous grooming, much to the frustration of their parents, who believed that appearances were of utmost importance.
"Relax, Draco. Here, I had Peppa brew you some chamomile tea," she slid the cup in his direction and he frowned at the slight indignation. "And eat something. You know it's going to take a while for them to get down. Why didn't you pester them instead of me? This is a crime, I should be in bed at this time."
"This. This is precisely why I woke you up first," Draco retorted, accepting the tea with a scowl. "It's nearly impossible to rouse you sometimes. Besides," he added, his voice dropping, "I tried to hurry Mother and Father, but Cranky intercepted me and said they've forbidden disturbance."
Cynthia burst into laughter, finding the image of the house elf standing guard at her parents' door too amusing to resist. Her laughter soon turned into forced giggles when she unceremoniously left out a snort, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she fought the urge to snort again, a habit that always left her feeling self-conscious. Draco's discomfort only fueled her amusement. "Oh, that's priceless! I should have enlisted Cranky's help too. Why the rush anyway? Our tent location won't make a difference."
"Father promised me that he'll try to get one of the Seekers to talk to me," Draco explained excitedly. "I want to get pointers from them to beat Potter this year-"
"Aww, you're thinking of Potter already?" Cynthia flashed him a teasing smile.
"Don't even," he hissed at her as his cheeks immediately flushed. Cynthia inwardly groaned at not having her camera to take a picture.
Since their chance encounter at Madam Malkin's robe shop the summer before their first year, Draco and Harry Potter seemed fated for an antagonistic relationship. Sure, in the beginning, Draco attempted to extend an olive branch, but whether it was due to his own lackluster conversational skills or Potter's aloof responses, their potential friendship quickly fizzled. Matters worsened when Potter befriended Ron Weasley, and by extension, the Weasley family, and Muggle-born Hermione Granger.
What ensued was a tumultuous cycle of conflict between the two boys. From Draco's ill-fated attempt to provoke Potter into a fake duel in their first year so he would get caught by Filch—a move Cynthia couldn't help but secretly admire for its Slytherin cunning—to the incident in their second year when Potter and Ron infiltrated the Slytherin common room disguised as Crabbe and Goyle. They wouldn't have been caught if Cynthia hadn't smelled the potion's ingredients on them and noticed their bad act.
Though she never let it show, Cynthia despised the constant friction between Potter and her brother. What stung even more was that Draco seemed to be the instigator more often than not. Multiple times, she told him it was best to leave Potter alone, that he wasn't worth his time and he had better things to focus on. And while he listened to her advice and seemed to leave Potter alone for the most part, Draco couldn't resist stirring the pot, deviating from her counsel at pivotal moments throughout the year. His need to assert his superiority and prove himself to their father often overshadowed his sister's sensible advice.
It was these moments that left Cynthia bewildered about her brother. Once a reserved child, he had morphed into someone unrecognisable under the influence of their father and the pressures from their family's prestige reputation—a boisterous, arrogant shell of his former self. Cynthia couldn't help but wonder if this newfound persona had consumed him entirely, or if glimpses of his true self still lingered beneath the facade. It was during their summers at home in moments like these when she teased him, that she caught fleeting glimpses of her quiet, shy little brother.
Yet, even in those rare moments, Draco's fixation on Potter remained a constant topic of conversation. Cynthia would often jest that he talked about Potter so much because he had a crush on him, a teasing remark meant to shut him up, though she couldn't help but wonder if there was a grain of truth to her jests.
"Draco, please don't do things for the sake of others," Cynthia said. "It won't benefit you in the long run. You must learn to do things for yourself first and foremost. Focus on your own goals. What if something happened to Potter and he couldn't play Seeker for Gryffindor anymore? Would you still strive to be a great Seeker? I didn't become top of my class to outshine others; I did it because I love learning and challenging myself. You need to let go of your obsession with beating Potter and start enjoying Quidditch like you used to. Your fixation on surpassing him might be what's holding you back. If you let go of those concerns and truly enjoy the game, you might find yourself achieving your goals."
Draco stared at her, appearing to mull over her words. "But I want to beat him now!"
Thankfully, it was at that exact moment that their parents arrived before Cynthia could backhand Draco.
"Are we ready to set out?" Lucius inquired, his hand resting on a walking stick that held his wand. While many assumed he carried it to flaunt the family's wealth, Cynthia knew the true significance behind it. The walking stick had belonged to her grandfather, Lucius's father, who used it during his final years when dragon pox had impaired his mobility. Maybe that's why he was taking with him now. Grandpa Abraxus dearly loved Quidditch, something Draco inherited from him, and had he been with them, he would probably be as anxious as Draco to go to the Cup.
"Not really," Cynthia said. "Mentally, I'm still in my bed, dreaming of taking over the world."
Her parents and Draco all rolled their eyes in unison.
"I'm sure you are, dear," Lucius said dryly. "Now, come, take my hand and tell me what the three D's are."
"Destination, Determination and Deliberation," Cynthia recited as she skipped to take her father's hand. "One had to be completely determined to reach one's destination, and move without haste, but with deliberation."
"Good. Now the first two D's are easy to implement but it's deliberation that tricks most people-"
"Can we hurry up with the Apparition lesson, please?" Draco pleaded, tugging at his mother's hand. His foot tapped rhythmically against the floor, and he let out an exaggerated groan of frustration.
"Seems like we've tested Draco's patience too far, Father," Cynthia remarked with a playful smile. "You can lecture me about this later."
Lucius chuckled before swiftly apparating them to the Ministry of Magic. Since they were attending as guests of the Minister, it seemed only polite to arrive together with him. Though Cynthia was more accustomed to Side-Apparition and fared better than Draco in that regard, she still experienced the uncomfortable compression sensation that never seemed to diminish. However, upon their arrival at the Ministry, they found Cornelius Fudge overwhelmed with tasks, offering them only a brief greeting before directing them to their designated area where the Quidditch Cup was taking place.
While Cynthia managed the second Side-Apparition landing with grace, supported by her father's firm grip, it appeared to tax Draco more. As soon as they touched ground, he inadvertently released their mother's arm and stumbled backward, landing unceremoniously on his backside.
Cynthia couldn't help but giggle as she rushed over to help him up. "Ugh, when did you get so heavy?"
"When you stopped growing and I didn't," Draco retorted with a smirk, accepting her assistance.
Cynthia frowned. Her parents were both tall—her mother and father each a noticeable height above her. In contrast, Cynthia barely reached her mother's chin. After her second year, her growth seemed to stall, and while her height remained static, her chest grew noticeably. This shift made finding clothes challenging; jumpers that fit snugly around her torso would hang awkwardly elsewhere.
She was acutely self-conscious about this change. It wasn't just the difficulty in finding well-fitting clothes that bothered her; she also noticed how boys' eyes tended to stray downward when they talked to her, a detail that made her feel uncomfortable. The discrepancy between her short stature and her developing figure only highlighted her insecurities.
And her height wasn't something she could easily ignore, especially when her family and friends were all considerably taller. Her grandfather had once remarked that her shortness wasn't surprising, given that Cynthia took after her grandmother.
Her grandmother.
Cynthia had never met her; she passed away when Lucius was only 12. All she had were stories from her father, grandfather, and mostly her great-grandmother, along with countless photographs. Sometimes, gazing at those pictures was scary because of how uncannily alike she and her grandmother looked. From their noses, dimples, and mouths, Cynthia looked exactly like her grandmother, Aurélie. They even shared the same shade of blonde hair, a light golden hue. The only difference between them were their eyes. While her grandmother had soft brown eyes, Cynthia inherited her mother's pale blue ones.
Draco and Cynthia walked hand in hand, their steps mirroring those of their parents. They soon found themselves face to face with a man named Mr. Roberts, who introduced himself with cheerful enthusiasm. However, the disapproving expressions etched on their parents' faces made it clear that Mr. Roberts' presence, as a muggle overseeing a wizarding event, was not well received.
Cynthia fought the urge to facepalm from how stupid it was from the Ministry to have a muggle be there for a wizarding event. Her father, in particular, seemed visibly perturbed by the interaction, his demeanour icy as Mr. Roberts directed them to their Ministry-provided tent. Her mother's disdain was also evident with her upper lip curling in distaste.
"Mother, why do they have a muggle in charge of something like this?" Draco asked.
"Unfortunately, it's due to the fact that they own this land," Lucius huffed.
Cynthia watched from a distance, her gaze fixed on the scene unfolding before her. The Muggle man, Mr. Roberts, was being obliviated by a Ministry worker, his bewildered expression slowly fading into blankness. Cynthia's lips pressed together in a tight line, her stomach twisting uncomfortably. She turned her head slightly, unable to fully witness the process.
The sight of Mr. Roberts, once full of confusion and now emptied of memory, left a lingering discomfort in her mind. She couldn't help but wonder about the long-term effects of such magical interventions. Was it truly justified to erase someone's memories like this? The notion of their mental well-being, or lack thereof, weighed heavily on her thoughts.
Turning her attention back to the conversation, Cynthia tried to mask her unease. "Wouldn't it be better to rent the land and have them stay away? Or, if that's not feasible, maybe subdue them while we're here to avoid dealing with the likes of them altogether?" she practically had to force the last part out. This is the part of her family she didn't like.
"It would be challenging to send them away since they live on the land. And as for subduing them, the Muggle sympathisers in the Ministry would never agree. They'd consider it inhumane."
Cynthia's eyes, still lingering on the obliviated Muggle, hardened. "What they're doing now is already cruel. Excessive oblivation leads to more accidents and often ends up with people in St. Mungo's. How is this better for them, especially given how fragile their minds are?"
"Let us not concern ourselves with this anymore," Lucius said. "This is a day meant for fun."
She reluctantly let the matter go, though it stayed in the back of her mind.
The tents belonging to the Ministry were already set up upon their arrival, one tent left to the family of four. Inside, it was quite spacious, the size of a luxurious flat, but it was nothing compared to the extravagance she was accustomed to at Malfoy Manor.
"Let's go check out the vendors," Draco suggested eagerly after they dropped their belongings.
Before Cynthia could reply, a familiar voice called out from behind them.
"There she is. Cindy!"
Cynthia turned around, her face lighting up at the sight of her best friend, Veronica Travers, rushing toward her. Their friends Cassius Warrington and Adrian Pucey followed close behind. She threw herself into Veronica's arms, the two embracing tightly as they swayed back and forth.
"I missed you! It's been far too long," Veronica exclaimed dramatically.
"Far, far too long," Cynthia agreed with a laugh.
"You literally came over to our house three days ago," Draco interjected dryly.
"Hush, child, you have no idea what you're talking about," Veronica teased, releasing Cynthia from the embrace. "Come on, we were waiting for you to go check out the vendors."
"Oh, but…" Cynthia hesitated, glancing back at Draco. However, he gave her a reassuring smile and gestured for her to go.
When Cynthia turned to walk with her friends, Draco's smile faded and his shoulders slumped with disappointment. He had been looking forward to spending time with his sister. Between her burying herself in the library to study and her two-week trip to France, they had scarcely seen each other this summer. With school approaching, he knew their chances for quality time would be even slimmer.
Lucius noticed his son's change in demeanour and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Why don't we go try and see those Quidditch players?"
Draco's smile returned in an instant.
Unfortunately, Cynthia ended up spending most of her time before the match with her friends, leaving no chance for her and Draco to hang out. They were currently at the face painting station, getting their faces painted in the colours of the teams they supported. While Adrian and Veronica opted for elaborate designs covering their entire faces, Cassius and Cynthia settled for small drawings on their cheeks. Cassius did so out of personal preference, while Cynthia reluctantly agreed after much convincing from Adrian and Veronica.
Initially unsure of which team's colours to paint on her face, Cynthia ultimately chose the colours of the Bulgarian team, much to Veronica and Cassius's chagrin and Adrian's relief.
"Knew I could count on you, Cindy," Adrian said, affectionately ruffling her hair, though his efforts were limited by the braid it was secured in. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and she reciprocated by placing hers around his torso.
"I didn't do it for you. The Bulgarian Prime Minister will be sitting with us, you know," she remarked.
"Of course you're doing this for ulterior motives," Adrian sighed and shook his head.
"I don't know why you're surprised. You've known me for years, I always do things for ulterior motives."
Adrian was her first friend, they had known each other from when they were four. Out of all the playmates her parents tried to push on her, not that there were many people her age from 'proper' pureblood families, Adrian was the only one she took to. Most of her early childhood memories consisted of Adrian and their adventures as children. For the longest time, and even now, their parents harboured hopes that she and Adrian would eventually end up together. Although they stopped mentioning it, Cynthia could still see the anticipation in their mothers' eyes every time they were together. But Cynthia never saw Adrian as more than a friend; he was always a brother to her. And he felt the same. The fact that he looked at Veronica like a lovesick fool only confirmed it.
How those two didn't end up together yet was a puzzle to Cynthia.
"I still can't believe that you got seats in one of the luxury boxes," Adrian whined. "And you don't even like Quidditch!"
"It's not that I don't like it, I just don't make it my entire personality, unlike some people," she stared pointedly at him. "Besides, Draco will appreciate the luxurious box experience."
Adrian rolled his eyes playfully. "Yeah, yeah, we know Draco's the Quidditch fanatic in the family. But still, it's the World Cup! You should be excited!"
Cynthia shrugged, a small smile playing at her lips. "I am excited, just for different reasons. It's not every day we get to witness such a grand event, regardless of my personal preferences."
Veronica, who had been listening intently, chimed in. "Well, I, for one, am thrilled. I can't wait to see Viktor Krum in action. He's dreamy!"
Cynthia chuckled at the sour look on Adrian's face. "Dreamy or not, let's hope the match lives up to the hype."
As they approached the arena, her excitement began to wane as she beheld the immense structure looming before her. The grandeur of the stadium struck her with a sudden wave of fear. She glanced up at the towering heights of the stands, her heart racing as she imagined herself at the very top. Her palms grew clammy, and her breathing quickened.
"Um, I need to get going," Cynthia tried to sound like her normal self as she talked to her friends. "My family is probably waiting for me."
Her poor attempt at normalcy was quickly noticed by her friends. "Sure, but are you okay, Cindy?" Adrian asked.
"Yeah, fine. I'm just dandy," Cynthia said while walking backwards and quickly retreated before they could interrogate her further. It was by pure luck that she made it to her family's tent as she had no idea where she would be going.
Upon reaching the familiar shelter, her mother greeted her with a warm smile that quickly turned into a concerned look at seeing the terror etched on her daughter's face. Cynthia didn't give her a chance to talk as she rushed past her and disappeared into one of the rooms.
Inside the room, Cynthia sank to the floor and curled into a ball. She struggled to control her breathing, each inhale feeling like a battle against suffocation. She briefly heard her mother following her, but Narcissa's attempts to soothe her daughter's distress fell on deaf ears. Her voice was gentle and reassuring, but Cynthia could hardly hear her over the roar of panic in her ears.
The memories flooded her mind with a vengeance. She remembered the terror of that fateful day last summer when she fell from her broom, plunging from a height so great that it felt as though she was falling from the top of the astronomy tower. The image of the arena's towering heights triggered vivid recollections of the excruciating pain she endured. She recalled the desperate struggle to stay conscious while Draco raced to fetch their parents, the overwhelming fear of death gripping her with merciless intensity.
As Cynthia continued to struggle with her panic attack, Narcissa's frustration mounted. Her hands clasped tightly in front of her, a look of helplessness etched on her face. Nothing she said was getting through to her daughter and the tears that were streaming down Cynthia's face made her feel even more anxious. Not being able to provide comfort and reassurance to her daughter, especially when she was struggling, she felt utterly powerless.
Thankfully, it was at this moment that Lucius and Draco came back. Narcissa let out a breath of relief and quickly called for her husband. "Lucius, come here! Hurry!"
Sensing his wife's urgency, Lucius entered the room immediately, Draco following closely behind him. His heart broke at seeing the state his daughter was in.
"Lucius, I... I don't know what to do," Narcissa admitted, her voice trembling with worry. "She won't listen to me. I can't seem to calm her down."
Lucius's expression hardened with concern as he took in his wife's distress. Without a moment's hesitation, he stepped forward and kneeled beside her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Let me handle this, Cissy," he reassured her, his voice steady despite the urgency of the situation.
Narcissa nodded hesitantly, her eyes brimming with tears as she watched Lucius approach Cynthia.
"I thought she was getting better," Draco said quietly behind her as he watched his sister.
"The mind healer said there might be some setbacks," Narcissa mentioned quietly.
"This is all my fault," Draco mutters under his breath.
"Oh, darling, it's not. It was never your fault," Narcissa hugged him, kissing him on the temple.
But it felt like it, he thought to himself, the weight of responsibility settling heavily on his shoulders. Draco couldn't shake the guilt that clung to him, a relentless reminder of his perceived failure to protect his sister. It had been his idea to persuade Cynthia to join him for that ill-fated game of Quidditch, despite her reluctance. He had practically begged her to play with him, eager for her company and the thrill of the game. Now, each time he thought of her plummeting from a great height, the guilt gnawed at him, despite his mother's reassurances.
Lucius approached Cynthia with a tender gentleness, his voice a soft murmur amidst her trembling. "Hey, Cynthia," he began, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow. "Can you give me your hand?"
But Cynthia shook her head, her fingers tangled in her hair as she swayed back and forth, her breathing ragged.
"Okay, how about," Lucius paused, wracking his brain for the techniques the mind healers had taught them. "What was that flower used in a shrinking potion? Lavendar?"
"N-n-no, it-it's a-a da-daisy," Cynthia stuttered out, her words strained with effort.
"That's right, a daisy. And what about the leech juice? If I put too much in the potion, what happens?"
Cynthia's eyes, wide with fear, slowly began to lock onto her father's face. She took a shaky breath and tried to steady herself. "It—i-it turns the potion into a—an un-predictable mess," she stammered, her voice growing slightly more coherent.
As her breathing began to steady, Lucius carefully pried her hands from her hair, his touch gentle yet firm. "Great, that's my smart girl. Now, how about we try to breathe together, okay?"
Slowly, Cynthia regained control of her breathing, her father's calming presence guiding her through each inhalation and exhalation. Yet, even as her sobs subsided, she remained nestled in his embrace, her tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "I just— I saw the stadium and got scared. I didn't mean to frighten you and Mother."
"Shhh," Lucius murmured, his hand soothingly stroking her hair. "You don't need to apologise. And you don't need to be scared. You won't fall. I'll be holding your hand and I will be there every step, okay?"
He felt her nod against his chest. Though all her injuries from the fall were healed under two weeks in St. Mungo's, the mental scars remained ingrained within her psyche. For the rest of that summer, Cynthia temporarily moved to the ground floor of the manor. Though she didn't fall down from the stairs, the single thought of that happening terrified her. It was worse in Hogwarts; the absence of her parents exacerbated her anxiety. Sure, Draco, Adrian and Veronica looked after her and held her hand when she needed to go up the stairs, but it wasn't the same. She was considerably better than she was a year ago, and the fact that she freaked over this again made her feel ashamed of herself.
Despite her relief that her daughter was once again herself, there lingered a pang of jealousy in Narcissa that it was Lucius that got her to calm down and not her. It was no secret Lucius and Cynthia were close, that was evident ever since Cynthia was a toddler and would sneak into Lucius' office no matter how many times Narcissa told her not to. Narcissa felt somewhat sidelined, and not for the first time, she yearned for a deeper connection with her daughter.
Just like he promised, her father held her hand tightly as they walked up the stairs to their box. They took their time, Lucius never hurrying her even when she felt that they were going too long. Cynthia let out a breath of relief once they made it to the top but quickly halted at the sight of the entire Weasley family with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger in the company of Minister Fudge. Her eyes immediately went to George Weasley, only to find both twins already looking at her. They were in the same year at Hogwarts, and she felt a flicker of self-consciousness under their gaze. She quickly looked away, her cheeks flushing slightly as she focused on the introductions her father was making.
"Ah, Fudge," Lucius greeted the minister warmly, extending his hand. "It's good to see you so composed after such a chaotic morning."
Minister Fudge chuckled in response, acknowledging Lucius's greeting before turning his attention to Cynthia and Draco.
"You've met my wife, Narcissa," Lucius indicated, gesturing towards her. "And here are my children, Cynthia and Draco."
"How do you do?" Fudge nodded politely towards them. "And allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk— Obalonsk—"
"Mr. Oblansk, the Bulgarian minister," Cynthia corrected him smoothly.
"Ah, yes," Fudge exclaimed with enthusiasm. "He doesn't understand a word of English, so communication has been quite challenging."
"Oh," Cynthia turned to the minister and began to speak to him in German. "Do you speak German, Minister? I'm ….assuming you do if-if you went to Durmstrang." She stumbled over the words, her voice halting. They felt foreign on her tongue, despite her countless hours of practice.
The minister's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Indeed, I do," he replied. "I'm impressed you do, little miss. Most English folks tend to stick to French and nothing more."
"My great-grandmother is German. She taught me," Cynthia replied, her words faltering slightly as she felt a tightness in her chest and a slight tremor in her hands. Her throat felt dry, and she hesitated for a moment, trying to steady her breathing. "It's not very good though. I'm good with words because I read a lot of German books but I'm terrible with pronunciation," each word that came out from her mouth was pronounced carefully but with obvious strain. She fidgeted slightly, her hands tightening around the fabric of her robes. "It's horrible. I only speak it w-with her. She says it's… a miracle she can understand me."
"Your grandmother isn't exactly wrong," Mr. Oblansk chuckled heartily, his laughter echoing through the room. "Your pronunciation could use a lot of work. But one can't blame you with your limited practice opportunities."
Lucius beamed with pride as he observed his daughter's confident interaction with the Bulgarian minister. Turning to Minister Fudge, he explained, "My grandmother is German. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to pick up the language, but Cynthia spent so much time with her that she inadvertently learned how to speak it."
Minister Fudge nodded, impressed. "That's remarkable. Would you do us the honour of translating and making introductions, Miss Malfoy?"
Cynthia nodded eagerly, her curiosity piqued. "Can you really not speak English?" The sentence left her mouth in fits and starts, a playful glint in her eye barely masking her nerves. She had noted his apparent understanding of her father's words.
Mr. Oblansk responded with a wink, his demeanour relaxed. "I can, but it's been quite entertaining watching your Minister attempt to communicate through gestures."
Cynthia giggled, appreciating his humour. She dismissed the curiosity of others around her and said that it was a German joke that was hard to translate. "Well, Mr. Oblansk, it looks like we share… the same sense of humour. Allow me to introduce my family. This is my father, Lucius, and my mother, Narcissa. And this," she gestured to her brother, "is Draco."
As their names were spoken, her family greeted the minister warmly.
"Wonderful! And you've met Arthur Weasley before, haven't you?" Fudge remarked.
Everyone at that moment, besides Fudge, could sense the tension between the two families as they came to stand before one another. Arthur Weasley maintained a strong stance, his shoulders squared and jaw set, as he faced Lucius, who held his head high with an air of superiority. Cynthia distinctly remembered the last time the two men had encountered each other, the summer before her fourth year, and how it ended in a physical fight. Despite the slim possibility of that happening again due to the presence of two ministers in their company, she couldn't shake the worry that something similar might occur. Draco, unlike their father, was more open with his disdain as he sneered in the direction of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.
Cynthia and her mother exchanged exasperated looks, both silently wishing to avoid any drama and head straight to their seats. However, they were outnumbered and outmaneuvered, making it difficult to escape the brewing tension. Cynthia felt a flutter of unease in her chest, her palms growing clammy. She shifted uncomfortably, her gaze darting around the crowded box as she tried to steady her breathing and focus on something other than the tightness in her chest.
Narcissa noticed her daughter's discomfort immediately. She subtly squeezed Cynthia's hand, her eyes darting to Lucius in an attempt to get his attention. However, Lucius was fully engrossed in the conversation with Arthur Weasley.
"Good lord, Arthur," her father said softly. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"
Minister Fudge, who didn't seem to hear what her father said to Mr. Weasley, said, "Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He's here as my guest."
"How — how nice," Mr. Weasley said. Cynthia couldn't tell what was more strain, Arthur's voice or the smile on the man's face as he was forced to remain polite.
Cynthia translated Minister Fudge's words, her voice steady as she conveyed the message. She felt every pause, each misstep in her delivery. Mr. Oblansk, though understanding English, nodded along, his interest piqued. "My father did it for me," Cynthia added, her gaze shifting to Mr. Oblansk. "I was in a-a… terrible accident, and the healers at St. Mungo's helped me.."
Mr. Oblansk's expression softened, a hint of admiration in his eyes. "That's quite noble of your father," he remarked, his tone genuine. "Healers hold a special place in our society, and we need to show them our appreciation whenever we can."
Cynthia translated, and her father's pride, if possible, increased further. Seizing this opportunity to escape the tension between her family and the Weasleys, she touched her father's arm. "I should like to sit down, Papa," she murmured softly. The tightness in her chest had yet to fully subside, and her hands were still slightly clammy. She could feel a faint trembling in her fingers and a slight dizziness as she tried to maintain her composure.
"Ah, of course, my dear," Lucius responded, his tone softening when he glanced at her. As he took her hand and guided her to their seats, his expression shifted briefly to one of concern before he masked it with his usual composure. He positioned her between Draco and Mr. Oblansk, subtly ensuring her comfort as he noted her exhaustion.
Once they settled in, Cynthia's eyes instinctively went back to George Weasley. She noticed how his posture became relaxed after their families were separated and an easy smile appeared on his face as he chatted with his family.
The Bulgarian minister drew her attention away as he pointed to the drawing of his team's colours on Cynthia's face, prompting a bashful smile from her. She admitted she wasn't a fervent Quidditch fan like her brother, choosing her team allegiance randomly.
"Well, our team will surely win, you'll see," Mr. Oblansk reassured her with a twinkle in his eye. "I have it on good authority that young ladies such as yourself have noticed our seeker, Viktor Krum." His words were accompanied by a knowing grin.
Cynthia nodded, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "He isn't the only standout player, of course. We have strong beaters who will knock those chasers before they have a chance to do anything."
Before she could reply, she was interrupted by Ludo Bagman's voice.
"Ladies and gentlemen . . . welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"
The sounds of claps and cheers filled the arena, overwhelming in their intensity. Draco squeezed Cynthia's hand tightly. He bounced on his toes, barely able to contain his excitement as he watched the scene unfold, his grip on her hand growing even firmer with each cheer.
"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce . . . the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"
Upon seeing what their mascots were, Cynthia swiftly covered Draco's ears and held him close to her.
"Cindy, what are you doing?" he tried to fight her hold.
"Shhh, unless you want to make a spectacle of yourself in front of everyone, stay still," she whispered harshly in his ear. "Their mascots are Veelas."
At the mention of "Veelas," Draco slumped against her, burying his face in her shoulder as if seeking refuge from the enchanting creatures. His hands clutched her robe, and he squeezed his eyes shut to try to block out their allure. Cynthia wrapped her arm around him, but she herself wasn't entirely immune to the Veelas' captivating presence. Their appearance almost tugged at her senses. For a moment, her heartbeat quickened, and she felt the soft, intoxicating pull like a whisper at the edges of her mind.
But years of discipline kicked in, and she blinked, shaking off the haze with a practiced calm. Her eyes flicked over to the commotion around her, watching with amusement as some of the Weasleys and Potter stumbled over themselves under the Veelas' spell. A flash of irritation stirred though as she spotted George among them, but she pushed the pang of jealousy aside, focusing instead on keeping her brother grounded as the Veelas continued their mesmerizing display.
Once the music stopped, Cynthia let go of Draco.
"Thanks," he acknowledged.
"Of course," she said. "Although you did miss quite a show."
"Better that I don't make a fool of myself," he said.
"I wasn't talking about the Veelas," she nodded towards the Weasleys.
Draco pouted. "Show me on the family pensive tomorrow?"
Cynthia laughed and winked at him. "I'll think about it."
After the Irish mascot show was over, her father leaned over to her. "Want to make a bet on who's going to win?"
Her eyes brightened. "You know I can never say no to winning."
Lucius laughed. "Getting cocky already, ma poupette? I'd say that the Irish have a good shot at winning."
"Well, I'm sticking with the Bulgarians."
They shook on it. They didn't need to state what was at stake because it was always the same thing. If Lucius won, Cynthia would have to do some of his paperwork that, while easy, was tedious for three days. If Cynthia won, her father would add 250 Galleons to her inheritance vault in Gringotts that would belong to her once she becomes of age at 17.
Although Cynthia wasn't an avid Quidditch fan like her brother and friends, she used to get excited every time a match was about to begin. Before the accident, she would have marvelled at the Quidditch players as they soared through the skies, their movements graceful and thrilling as they manoeuvred at breakneck speeds. Now, the sight of players in flight filled her with an overwhelming sense of dread. The vivid memory of her fall replayed in her mind with every swift and daring move, making her stomach churn with fear that one of them might suffer the same fate.
The previous year had been particularly tough for her. With all her friends and Draco on the Quidditch team, it was agonising to watch them from the sidelines, constantly fearing for their safety. Her anxiety was especially acute when it came to Draco. Despite her own terror, she pushed down her fears and cheered them on, even though it felt like a struggle to keep her worries at bay.
This deep-seated unease was the reason why she hadn't been looking forward to the Quidditch World Cup. However, she didn't dare voice this out, keeping her feelings to herself. She didn't want to burden her family with unfounded guilt or diminish their excitement about the event.
When the masoct performance was finally over, Draco and Cynthia put on their Omnioculars as they watched the players enter the arena.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team!"
Bagman proceeded to call out the names of the players as they entered the field, coming out so fast they showed up as scarlet blurs.
"And now, please greet — the Irish National Quidditch Team!" Bagman yelled.
The other half of the crowd cheered loudly as the players came out.
And then it began.
The speed of the players was incredible — the Chasers were throwing the Quaffle to one another so fast that Bagman only had time to say their names. It made Cynthia disappointed since the commentary was her favourite part of Quidditch, especially when Lee Jordan did it, though she kept that opinion unspoken. Cynthia wished to spin the slow dial on her Omnioculars, but she knew she would be missing out if she did.
Just like Cassius and Veronica said, the Irish Chasers were amazing, working like they were one well-oiled machine with their movements so well coordinated. So far, to her chagrin, Ireland had scored three times but that seemed to spur the Bulgarian Beaters to become more brutal in their hits as they whacked the Bludgers as fiercely as possible at the Irish Chasers. More than once, Cynthia winced at the brutality of it all.
When she heard the music and saw the Veela sing again, she quickly covered Draco's ears again.
Suddenly, their attention were on the two Seekers, Krum and Lynch, as they plummeted down towards where the snitch might be.
"He's tricking him!" Draco yelled. "There is no snitch!"
"Well, someone is playing dirty," Cynthia said.
It was at the very last second that Viktor Krum pulled out of the dive, leaving Lynch to hit the ground with a dull thud that could be heard throughout the arena
"Oh, Merlin," Cynthia covered her eyes before she could see him crash down as she was reminded of her similar situation.
All at once, each member of her family was looking at her in concern, fearing that she would be triggered like earlier. "I'm fine, I'm fine, don't worry so much about me."
They, of course, didn't believe her. But what could they do other than keep a closer eye on her?
By the time she uncovered her eyes, she watched the referee, Hassan Mostafa land right in front of one of the Veelas and begin to flex his muscles in a flirtatious way to get the woman's attention which made her groan again.
"You just had to have Veelas be your mascot," she turned to Mr. Obslank, who was laughing at the scene.
He gave her an innocent shrug.
"And unless I'm much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian Team Mascots! Now there's something we haven't seen before ... oh, this could turn nasty," Bagman said.
And he wasn't wrong.
Cynthia couldn't help but burst into laughter as she witnessed the escalating chaos, not caring that she was snorting during her laughter. The Bulgarian Beaters rushed down to engage in heated arguments, while the mischievous Leprechauns taunted them with their mocking "HEE HEE HEE" chants. The scene grew increasingly chaotic as Mostafa began issuing penalties to the Bulgarian team for failing to mount their brooms and return to the air.
When the Bulgarian beaters finally took flight, their play turned ruthless, extending beyond mere Bludger strikes. Cynthia found herself questioning whether she was witnessing a Quidditch match or a rowdy pub brawl, which only fueled her uncontrollable laughter, with Draco joining in. Though her parents contemplated intervening due to their behaviour getting out of control, they couldn't help but be delighted to see their children enjoying themselves so much.
As another Beater was penalised, the Irish Mascots decided to express their discontent with the unfolding events. In a matter of seconds, the leprechauns formed themselves into a hand, gesturing obscenely toward the Veelas. The crowd erupted into uproarious cheers and jeers, while Cynthia, mindful of Draco's sensibilities, covered his eyes. Meanwhile, the Veelas, their faces contorted into bird-like beaks, unleashed fiery protests across the pitch, their once-angelic visages now transformed in a striking display of defiance.
After getting her laughter under control, she turned her attention to the match where she observed the Seekers diving once more.
"Draco! Look, look, they're doing it again!" Cynthia shook her brother to get his attention, pointing in the direction of Lynch and Krum as they were diving down. This time, it was Draco's turn to shield his sister's eyes as Lynch appeared on the verge of crashing once more, and sadly that's precisely what happened. Draco winced and looked to see if Krum had suffered the same fate. However, the Bulgarian Seeker demonstrated superior broom control, managing to pull up and surge ahead to seize the Snitch in his grasp.
"Did they get it? Or was it a trick again?" Cynthia asked, her eyes still covered.
"Krum got it, but they lost. Ireland has more points."
"What?!" she removed Draco's hands from her eyes and saw Krum hold up the Snitch in triumph. "Bu-but my winning streak."
Her father reached out to pat her in the back.
"And what is he even celebrating about?! They lost!" Cynthia exclaimed.
"I guess he was just trying to make a statement," Draco said. "I mean, if he didn't catch the snitch and Lynch did, their loss would be much worse. At least this way, they would be more even and lose more honourably."
"Your brover is rite," Mr Oblansk said in English. "Ve fought bravely."
Draco stared at him in astonishment. "You speak English?"
"You can speak English!" Fudge exclaimed outraged. "And you've been letting me mime everything all day!"
"Vell, it vos very funny," he shrugged.
Meanwhile, Cynthia crossed her arms in frustration and glared at the stadium. "I don't like this."
"You and me both, Fräulein Malfoy," replied Mr. Oblansk.
Returning to the tent, Cynthia finally let herself feel all the exhaustion that had been building throughout the day. The thrill of the Quidditch match and the emotional weight of the day had caught up with her, leaving her utterly drained. Draco was already fast asleep in one of the beds when she settled into the one beside him. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she was pulled into a deep slumber.
Suddenly, Cynthia woke up in the middle of the night. She was drenched in sweat, her breathing uneven as she tried to catch her breath. The room felt stifling, and she shifted uncomfortably under the covers, her mind still reeling from the tense emotions that had resurfaced. Her body felt heavy and restless, making it hard to find a comfortable position as she tried to calm herself.
Trying to ignore the persistent unease in her chest, Cynthia attempted to drift back to sleep, but the sensation refused to fade. Despite her best efforts, she tossed and turned for what felt like hours, unable to find comfort. Eventually, she gave up and sat up in bed, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. Draco slept soundly beside her, and upon checking on her in the other room, she found her mother lost in slumber as well. Her father had yet to return from celebrating with his friends, leaving Cynthia alone with her restless thoughts.
Debating on what to do, Cynthia decided to take a short walk to clear her mind and hopefully tire herself out enough to return to sleep. She quickly scribbled a note: "Couldn't sleep. Going for a short walk. Will be back soon (hopefully with Father)." Leaving it near her mother, she slipped on a shawl to ward off the night chill and stepped outside into the cool evening air.
As she walked, Cynthia couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension. The night was quiet and still, with only the occasional rustle of leaves to break the silence. She briefly considered searching for her father or one of his friends, but the hour was late, and finding them in the darkness seemed unlikely.
Suddenly, a woman's shrill scream pierced the night, causing Cynthia to freeze in her tracks.
A/N: I'd love to hear your thoughts on the Malfoy family. In this chapter, I aimed to reveal a different side of them, and I hope I succeeded in portraying them in a more positive or complex light for you.
