Blood Traitor || Draco Malfoy

Chapter 82

When Kit awoke, she was in her room at Thompson Manor.

It was exactly how she remembered it, except, seated in a rocking chair at the foot of her bed was Alana, apparently knitting.

"Finally, you're awake," huffed Alana impatiently. "You sleep far too much, little sister, but I suppose that a Mudblood lover like you needed rest after all that betrayal. You've been out for a day. Missed the celebration of Dumbledore's death."

Kit sat up, and shifted back against the headboard. "What are you doing in here?"

"Come now, Kitty, didn't Mother and Father ever tell you that this used to be my room before I married? I loved the view. In fact, I was the one who told them to let you have this room when you were born. There were many other rooms to choose from, of course, but we never used those before. Only now, that Death Eaters are getting comfortable here. Rabastan and I are in the next room."

"Why aren't you at Lestrange Manor?" muttered Kit, wiping her mouth with her sleeve.

"Silly, don't you know that Rabastan and I don't own that? That house belongs to Bellatrix and Rodolphus. We were living in that room when you were a baby while we got everything settled to get a place of our own. I don't actually like large Manors. Either way, Lestrange and Malfoy Manor have been seized by the Ministry. Pity, really... with Lucius in Azkaban and with Bellatrix and Rodolphus having been staying here with us, they were left unprotected. No matter. Thompson Manor is bigger and more adept to drink in curses. Father's refreshed them every morning. The Ministry hasn't been able to get in."

Kit shifted uncomfortably. "You mean... you've been here this whole time?"

"Since the Ministry, you mean? Yes. If we'd had it my way, you'd have been here with us to help me gather baby clothes."

Kit grimaced. "Ugh. That's disgusting."

"Oh don't be so rude. If it were different, you'd have been overjoyed to help me become a mother."

"If it were different, Alana, we wouldn't be here at all, and your kid would have been my age."

Alana cast her a creepy grin. "You're the spitting image of Father and you have no idea, do you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You're just like him," she crooned, coming over to sit on the bed. "The same temper and attitude... the pessimism... I was always more like Mother. A troublemaker, nevertheless, but much more patient. I was vulgar-tongued but never so snappy like you."

"Or maybe you just don't remember what you were like, seeing as you've been fucking ruined," snarled Kit, moving away from her.

Alana's eyes darkened. "My, my, the first full conversation you have with your big sister and you're being a little brat."

Kit scoffed. "What, am I supposed to curtsy and kiss your feet, you fucking animal? You speak of our mother as if you didn't aid our stupid fucktard of a father in killing her! You let her be murdered!"

"She was a useless dimwit, our mother," Alana sneered. "You think you were the only one who got beat, sister? Perhaps father liked me more than you, and maybe even mother revered me, but she was a beast. If she'd just conformed, she needn't have been under a curse. It wouldn't have made her so brutish."

"Are you condoning what our father did to her?" Kit snapped, standing up. "You— you sicken me. Get the hell out of my room."

"Gladly," said Alana coldly as she stood, her ball of yarn falling to the floor. "Make yourself a noose with that, Kitty. You're as disposable as Alison was, and don't think for a second we'll hesitate to end you. Have fun being stuck in here."