Hi! What have you guys been up to? Did you do anything with your moms on Mother's Day? Do you celebrate Mother's Day? I've been eating so crap lately, blegh, but how can I not eat terribly when Taco Bell comes out with those chicken chips? Not to mention Starbucks had its happy hour, and the s'mores flavor is back! Also, I just wanted to make it clear: Edric absolutely loves his little sisters. Should he have hugged Astoria when she was upset? Maybe, maybe not, but he is also her brother who nearly raised her and had just witnessed her being tortured. I knowww you all love Astoria (and I'm really thrilled I made a female character that you guys seem to genuinely like, as I personally am very picky about main female characters), but it IS possible to understand two sides of a coin, which is one of the themes of this story. Anywayyyyy, feel free to dislike whoever you please, but he DOES love his sisters very much. What else did I want to mention? Oh, lots of ideas for the sequel, so if you're sticking around for that just know that I have a lot in mind (lol, and if you PM me often you know some of my ideas)! Thank you guys so much for being patient through this period where I'm dragging my feet, you're all awesome, and thank you so much for always telling me your thoughts on my characters. I really love that there are mixed opinions, and I really hope my story provokes some sort of thought. Also, sorry that even though I'm taking so many days to update these aren't super long, super eventful chapters.
I don't own anything from Harry Potter.
Aldrich held his two year old daughter carefully, noting how well behaved she was for such a young thing as he approached his worn wife who was so beautiful still after just giving birth to their third child. Daphne squirmed in his arms as he got closer to Freya, and he glanced down at his toddler, his firm gaze relaxing slightly in his affection as she reached for her mother so eagerly. His wife was a better mother than she gave herself credit for, better than a lot of the women in their community. She was not the most affectionate and warm woman, but she was a mother who genuinely loved her children, and for that they were lucky.
He was lucky.
Aldrich was not above admitting to himself that he had a quality woman, damaged or not, she was someone he could respect, and she looked lovely by his side. She was no where near a doting, loving wife, never would be. He didn't need her to be. If that had been what he had wanted then he would have allowed his parents to pair him with a much more basic woman, a naturally pliant woman. Admittedly, he had not expected to grow an attachment to his wife, but he supposed it was only natural given the fact he had bonded them so tightly together and infiltrated her mind so heavily, felt every burning emotion inside of her. She was truly his witch, no matter if she desired to be or not, and no one would know her as he did. Not her childhood friend, not her pathetic little muggle fling that he had kindly overlooked. No, he knew her inside and out, even better than herself.
"In a moment, Daphne. Her arms are full," he told his small toddler and she looked up at him with her expressive green eyes before he handed her to his son who was following closely beside him, waiting obediently for direction.
Edric took his sister easily, hitching her higher into his arms when she wrapped her legs around his hip as he peered over his mother to see the small bundle in her arms with interest. He looked up to see his mother's exhausted face before he leaned forward to kiss her cheek, smiling at her respectfully. Aldrich watched the two of them for a moment before walking closer to Freya's side, meeting her eyes with his.
"Thank you," he told her, the same words he had spoken for the two previous children, the most sincere of words he could think to offer her in such a time.
She nodded, not offering him any words in return as she lifted his new daughter towards him. Though she said nothing he could feel the emotion radiating off of her, the emotion he lived for and thrived off of. He took the infant cautiously, always a bit out of his element with such things. He looked down at his new child, so fragile and small. A gorgeous little thing, flawless and unaware of the world around her, the same world that would crush her as it crushed all of them, no matter how they tried. Her mother could attest to that. He would attempt, however, to allow her her sweet innocence for as long as he could manage.
He savored the small moments such as these with his family, as they were far and few in between. He especially savored the air between him and his wife, as even in their somewhat content moments she held the most bitter loathing for her life, their life. He enjoyed it, it was real, and it went well with his own resentment. But in these moments she was at ease, and she was just so breathtaking in these truly rare minutes when she allowed herself to be okay with him, with herself. It nearly made him want to try and do more for her, try and fix the tenseness that was their relationship, give her something more tender in personal. Tender and personal was not something he knew how to do, not truly. He was sure he could fabricate it, but the reason he was so content with his marriage was because he didn't have to fabricate so much with her, not to mention that he did tell her he would show her mercy by not bringing her to love him, though he knew a piece of her was rather attached to him at least. Knowing her as well as he did he guessed he could easily gain her love, and that would truly break her, as her stubbornness in hating him was the only thing she felt she had control of anymore.
She was squirming, Astoria, and squirming quite a bit. A contrast to the previous two children at birth, who were both very still and quiet, surprisingly so. It was almost as if they sensed his desire for their silence. Astoria's face screwed up below him, reddening as she began to cry. Freya immediately held her hands out, concern coloring her face, concern that he would be too agitated with the sounds coming from the infant. Aldrich ignored her efforts, adjusting the baby gently in his arms, inwardly cringing at the nearly unbearable fussing sounds. He could control himself, this was his newborn after all. He sat on the edge of the bed next to Freya, watching the child quietly as he pulled at the blankets that were wrapped snuggly around her, freeing her squirming arms. Her hands reached into the air, and he offered her his own hand for her to grasp onto it, her red face fading to pink as she gradually calmed when her impossibly small fingers curled around his.
"She is smaller than Daphne was," his son said, handing Daphne to her mother. "Isn't she, mother?"
"Yes, she is a bit. Screamed a lot more as well. She makes up for her size in sound," Freya replied, a light tone of pride in her voice as she spoke.
"Baby?" Daphne asked in her childish voice, leaning forward in Freya's arms as she tried to get a proper look at her newborn sister.
"Yes, a baby," Freya confirmed, taking down her daughter's fine blonde hair to redo it, fixing it.
"Mine," Daphne replied firmly, nodding and reaching her chubby arms out to the wiggling child Aldrich was holding expectantly.
Aldrich glanced down at Daphne with amusement before nodding Edric over who was attempting to appear patient, but Aldrich knew his son was itching to see his sister.
"Sit," he ordered him, waiting for him to comply and hold his arms out for her as he slowly lowered Astoria into his waiting arms. Daphne stared, her face appearing to be fully offended as her brother was given the bundle instead of her.
"Iss mine," she protested, reaching further before looking up at her mother in frustration.
"I will have to help you, love. She's not one of your dolls," Freya told her, fixing the collar of Daphne's dress.
"Ugwier," Daphne agreed, nodding seriously.
"You only think she is uglier because she's real, Daphne. Your dolls are fake," Edric told her, looking up at her with a stern expression.
"No," the toddler argued with him, scowling. "Not fake."
Aldrich was only half listening to the exchange his family was having as he watched his young but mature son hold the child with confidence as he looked down at his sibling with interest and care, touching her hands with his own as he eyed the tiny hands with fascination before turning to his mother and sister to help Daphne get a proper look.
Yes, she was very real indeed.
The kid looks like a cruciatus victim.
Theodore paced around the room he had been sleeping in at the Manor, attempting to calm his range of emotions as his stomach twisted inside of him, threatening to make him truly ill all over the floors.
We don't torture children.
She had been sent out so soon after being tortured by her own father, expected to present herself as a proper little show piece as if nothing was wrong, as if their family was still perfect and unaffected by the sudden loss of one of its members. She hadn't hid it enough, and he had seen the aftermath. He had known something was off, and it had been more than just losing her brother, he had always known that.
The man had ripped the spirit out of his Astoria.
He couldn't imagine it, couldn't imagine a parent being so cruel. He had known of parents hurting their children, and he had seen a few of the children he grew up with get smacked around occasionally, Astoria and Daphne included when it came to their mother, but not to that extent. Not in their circle. Their circle was civilized. His own father would never think to harm a child, even now after his father had grown more hollow after his time in Azkaban. His father would never hurt him like that no matter what he did.
I made her see him, you know. Her brother with that mudblood girl.
Fury for his mother spread through him as he recalled her words and he narrowed his eyes that were glazed over as he was deep in thought. His mother truly made it difficult to forgive her at times, so bitter and stuck in the past. He had played along for far too long even as he loathed hearing her wish such ill will on the girl he loved, played along for her sake seeing as his father had always been so cold with her. He would always excuse her behavior because she was a drunk and she wasn't in the right state of mind most of the time, but this.. This was hard for him to accept from his mother. There was a reason his father had such a hard time with her. Her and that woman, whatever was between them, was not worth this, and she did not warrant such a revenge.
He yanked the door open when he heard the knock, a sneer covering his face when he saw Novalie there, standing so expectantly and unaffected. He grabbed her arm and yanked her into the room easily, her frame light and cooperative in his efforts, causing her to stumble forward a few steps as she was thrown into the middle before he slammed the door shut, turning to look at her accusingly.
"What possessed you?" He demanded, infuriated by the way she collected herself and smoothed her hair down, seeming completely unfazed by his anger.
"I had no idea of the repercussions, Theo," she told him, watching him carefully. "I couldn't possibly imagine such an outcome."
"Don't call me that," he said shortly. "We aren't friends. You couldn't possibly imagine such an outcome? Are you attempting to sell me that you, as a pure-blood woman, don't understand what it is to be disowned? Don't understand what someone who is disowned becomes to their family members?"
"Theodore," she corrected herself for him, nodding. "If that's what you would prefer me to call you."
"Well? Are you planning on offering an explanation?" He asked flatly, searching her sea green eyes with growing anger at how she always kept that even expression, as if she possessed no authentic emotion.
He had foolishly grown to trust the girl and even held a strange fondness for her presence, but her personality quite easily irritated him if he was in the wrong mood for it. She intrigued him in the fact she seemed so poised and unaffected by everything, but she also infuriated him for the same reasons.
She was full of shit. He knew she was fucked in some way or another, just as they all were.
"They asked me to convince her to aid the Aurors, and so I did," she told him simply. "I didn't intend on bringing her here."
"It didn't seem to me like you made an effort to put a stop to it either."
No, of course not. She sat and observed in silence, not offering help or offering herself as a wedge between Astoria and the mudblood when Astoria was losing her mind on the shaking, pathetic girl. She had put the mudblood in her place, but she had been prepared to go too far, and Theodore knew she wouldn't be pleased with herself once she was clear headed. Just as she wasn't pleased with herself after she had gone to him as a married woman, requesting his affections when she shamed her husband by touching another man.
Novalie cocked her head to one side, watching him still. "I didn't realize that you felt so strongly for Astoria."
"Did you not see what I saw? Anyone would react strongly to that!" He spat, turning away from her, losing patience for the sight of her pretty face and the irritating expressions she wore upon it, ruining its beauty. "Except for you of course. A child being harmed to that extent by her parent is probably some sort of sick treat for you, as you love to observe miserable people."
"Are you in love with her?" She asked him thoughtfully. He could hear her light steps as she approached a bit closer to him, and he could feel her eyes burning into his back.
"Oh for fuck's sake, Eld. Shut up, and stop interrogating me. Act like a normal person for once before you get yourself hurt," he snapped, turning to look at her once more to make sure she didn't get too close to him.
"I'm sorry, Theodore," she said, her face faltering when his angry eyes met hers again. "I don't mean to come off as insensitive."
He shook his head, sitting on the bed before rubbing a hand over his face. "You can leave. I don't want to talk about it, and I don't want to hear your professional opinion of it or her either, nor do I wish to hear your professional opinion on my feelings towards her. Don't want to hear your condescending voice really at all actually."
"I'm sorry, Theo," she apologized again, her voice softer this time, matching more closely with her youthful age.
"I don't think you are, Novalie. You don't seem to have much emotion or social skills."
He heard her sigh and turn before she walked away, towards the door. "Where are you going?"
"You want me to leave," she answered him with confusion, pausing in front of the door.
"Yes, but where?" He asked, his tone clipped, a small hair of protectiveness falling onto him as he watched her attempt to disappear into the dark halls of the Manor.
"I don't know. Hopefully to a bed somewhere. Hermione said that we will be staying here for the night."
"Sleep here," he ordered, motioning to the large bed. "You don't need to be slinking about Malfoy Manor."
"Is that how you normally charm women into your bed?" She asked him, a slip of shyness falling over her eyes, though her voice remained typical in its sureness. "Based on your reputation I would have expected better."
"Novalie," he said impatiently. "Just get in the bed. You shouldn't be alone when we are under threat, and something tells me no one would be eager to jump in to save you should we be attacked in the night."
"It seems you would," she told him curiously, approaching the bed as she followed his order obediently.
She could act as if she weren't a simple pure-blood girl all she liked, but it was clear in the end what she was.
"Don't count on it."
"We don't have to talk about it, I understand," she told him, shifting out of her robes. "The negatives of our pure-blood world are hard to swallow at times."
"Torturing children is not part of our world," Theodore snapped. "Don't use that bastard's parental methods as a representation of all of us."
"I was referring to how you're unable to be with the woman you love," she said carefully. "However, I have seen many horrific things in the families of pure-bloods. I wouldn't defend them so fiercely."
"Hmm."
Her words stung him, and in a way they were false, as it was ultimately his fault they weren't together due to the fact that he was a coward.
"Are you worried about being attacked?" She asked, kindly changing the subject as she walked over to the window to peer out of it. A change of subject was what he desperately needed, as he couldn't stand to think of it all anymore.
"Not particularly. I could use a good blood bath," he said, leaning back against the pillows as his anger faded, his eyes skimming over the girl's red hair shining under the light of the moon and the flattering fit of her dress that clung to her body, much more flattering than the uniform she kept over her clothes.
What better distraction was there than a woman to bury his dick into?
She opened her mouth to speak and he cut her off before he could. "That wasn't an invitation to comment on my mental health," he told her dully, tossing the blankets back before pulling his shirt off.
"I took my uniform off," she sighed. "I won't bother you with that."
"And you're free to take whatever else you like off, love," he told her smoothly, though there was still a remaining mocking edge in his tone.
"I'm not going to have sex with you, Theodore," she quipped. "I am still a virgin, and intend to stay that way seeing as I plan on marrying the type of man I'm expected to marry. Some men go to lengths to check for a woman's innocence, especially as of late when it is becoming more and more common for women to have sex before marriage."
"And when do you plan on leaving? You don't want something to remember me by?" He had expected as much. He had gotten no where in the time he had known her with his advances. How would he escape himself now?
"You almost sound as if you will miss me."
"I will," he told her, shrugging. "I've grown used to your prodding, and I'm not sure I've ever been so annoyed by the presence of such a gorgeous woman. It's an impressive talent you possess."
"A lot of people crave to talk about themselves when nobody is asking," she told him, ignoring his comment before she pulled at the blankets on the other side of the bed, slipping into it and staying well on the side he had given her, modest.
"Go on then," he told her.
"Go on and..?" She asked, her eyebrows pulling together in confusion.
"Tell me about you, as I'm asking."
"Believe me, I've been asked by enough, and I did already tell you a bit about myself before."
"I think you've been holding out on me. Give me something of interest. Or am I expected to believe you're always this way?" He watched her slowly settle into a comfortable position before her eyes addressed his.
"What do you mean by 'this way'?"
"Fake. Hollow. Rehearsed. Full of shit. Whichever you'd prefer."
"Aren't most pure-blood women such a way?"
"Not like you, and most pure-blood women aren't practicing your chosen profession all while expertly upsetting everyone around them."
"I don't mean to upset everyone around me," she replied, searching his eyes as she considered his words. "But yes, I suppose I did not get into the profession simply to help people."
"No? Truly? I would have never guessed based on how considerate you are," he replied with a gasp.
"Do you want to listen or do you want to be rude?" She scolded, her face slightly amused.
He motioned for her to go on, adjusting himself on the bed so he was laying on his side facing her. He supposed this was better than nothing, but he didn't understand why as he never had any desire to hear a woman he'd rather be fucking talk about herself.
"My mother killed my father and went on to kill herself. She tried to kill me with her," she told him bluntly, causing him to stiffen in shock at her immediate start with something so dark. "I walked upstairs after my piano lessons and my mother called me into their room. My father was dead on the floor, and my mother was there waiting for me next to his body. She had a knife with her, she didn't want a quick death I suppose, and she was talking nonsense to me about love and how much she had for me. Soothing things. She cut her wrists first before taking mine, a mistake as it made it hard for her to keep hold of me. She should have done mine first and she probably would have been much more successful. I was too shocked to protest or do anything until the blade cut my skin. I screamed so, so loud and I pulled and pulled at her until I was free, but she got to me again crying and pleading as she dragged me down. My piano instructor hadn't left yet. She got me away from her." Novalie paused from her words, her eyes completely unfocused as she recalled the scene she was speaking of. "Afterwards, everyone just kept asking me why, why did they do it. I say 'they' because my mother had intended on framing it as a family suicide, and I let that be the truth even though I know it was just her. I just didn't want it all pinned on her. Well, people talked, and it started being speculated that I killed my parents for whatever reason as my parents were well respected and nobody could believe they would do such a thing, and someone actually came up to me and asked me why I did it. Why did I kill my parents, why did I try to kill myself as well. It was getting to the point where I didn't know, didn't know anything or if they were right about me, and I needed my own answers. I needed to get away from all of the prodding questions and judging eyes. I thought if I got into this type of work I might find my answers through observing others, but really I know why already. Some people just snap. Some people can't handle life the way others can, and my mother wasn't producing a son which made my father upset with her. She was depressed. She tried to kill me with her because most likely in her mind she thought she was saving me, and she wanted us to die together. There is no complicated answer, there is no better reason. That's it, and I guess I told myself that that couldn't be it. Honestly I think I keep doing this because it makes me feel better trying to find people as messed up as my family was. Focusing on everyone and anything else is always somehow better than focusing on yourself."
Her eyes had slid from his and were directed at the ceiling now, and she spoke with a new tone, a much more vulnerable tone. Theodore watched her, not knowing how to respond to her story. Apparently he was jumping from one terrible parent to the next tonight.
"I don't know how I'm supposed to go back," she murmured on before he could reply. "I don't want to go back to those people. Not when most of them think I could do that to my own parents.. As a child. They just refuse to believe the truth, and would rather shamelessly blame a child before accepting that my parents could be so uncivilized."
He didn't say anything for a while, not finding it appropriate to speak so quickly especially when he had no decent response to offer her. "Why tell me the truth about your mother?" He asked when he finally spoke, his eyes focused on the spot on the bed next to her as he thought over his words. "If you let others believe a different story?"
"Because I broke your trust," she replied slowly, turning her body to face his. "And I hope to earn it back."
"We should go to bed, love," Adrian said quietly beside Daphne, his hand brushing her leg. "You can see Astoria in the morning."
"I want to see her now," she replied, her voice wavering. "I just want to make sure she's okay."
"She is okay. Draco is up there with her. What we saw.. Already happened. Years ago. She's been okay since then."
Yes, Draco had gone up to see her sister, as if he was what she needed of all people. She cursed him for not allowing her to see Astoria now, why wasn't she allowed to see her now? It was their business, and the man that had intruded on them tonight had to do with their family, not Malfoy's.
"But I'm not okay," she told him miserably, leaning into his arm. "I need her in order to feel better. I just want my family back."
"I know," he sighed, slipping his arm around her waist. "I'm sorry. Can't offer you much else other than that."
"And now I feel sorry for my father," she went on, turning her face against his shoulder, inhaling the scent of him in an attempt to soothe herself. "And I don't want to feel sorry for him. He's an evil bastard."
"Evil bastards aren't normally born that way."
Daphne fought the urge to whimper in her despair, biting her lip before laying her head down in his lap. "And why does that arsehole think he has any place to speak as if he cares for Astoria?" She demanded, picturing Edric beside his pathetic mudblood, the woman who had the nerve to speak to her.
"She's his sister," Adrian said fairly, playing with her hair.
"No," Daphne said, her voice almost falling into a snarl as she spoke back to him. "She's mine."
"To him she's his sister. So are you."
"He's wrong. He gave us up."
"Perspective, treacle."
"Whose side are you on?" She snapped, sitting up to look at him accusingly. "You're my husband, and you're a pure-blood. Should I worry about you being a blood traitor as well? Seems like the popular thing to be actually!"
Adrian shook his head and pulled her into his lap, moving his arms around her. "I'm always on your side. You're my wife, but that doesn't mean I can't offer different ideas."
"I didn't ask for them," she muttered coolly, adjusting herself in his lap.
"Yes, well. I'm your husband which means I get to say whatever the fuck I want, pet. Don't be a bitch to me. I'm your life partner and you're stuck with me for the rest of your existence."
"Sorry," she answered softly. She knew if he was any other man she would never get away with speaking to him in such a manner. "How will I ever look at my mother the same?"
"You won't look at her the same."
"No one should have ever seen that," Daphne went on, sliding her hands around his waist, resting them between the couch and his back. "I shouldn't have seen it. It was personal."
"Well, no shit. I definitely shouldn't have seen it, that's for certain. I feel like some second year spying on a group of sixth years changing."
"Sounds like a real story."
He snorted before chuckling at her tired attempt at an insult. "I don't need to spy on women. They beg me to look."
"Don't be a prick when I'm emotional."
"Do you want me to shut up?" He asked, running his finger down her spine.
"No. I'll start crying again if I think too much."
"Used to it. You cry over everything. I mean, when-"
"I changed my mind. Shut up, Adrian."
Surprisingly, he did as he was told, continuing his soothing strokes up and down her spine. She nestled herself closer to his warm body, sliding her hands down to slip under his shirt to rest against his skin instead, making him a source of her comfort. She quickly fell asleep, much quicker than she had expected as she figured she wouldn't get any sleep that night. Adrian didn't attempt to move them upstairs, and that was obvious when a grimacing woman woke both of them up, gazing at them in disgust.
"What on earth are you doing, and when did I raise such a trashy woman? Sleeping on the couch, draped all over a man! This isn't even your home, you stupid girl. Have you no shame? Get up, Daphne!"