Slytherin Boys

31

The sun rose at around 7:15am on my 14th birthday and that was the day that I officially 'became a woman' as my mother so gracefully put it.

Like I was finally worth something now that I could carry on the blood line.

I have never woken up to my mother cooking breakfast in the kitchen. A task so domestic as cooking breakfast for her daughter she usually called slave work.

I hoped in the shower and deemed my my favourite pyjamas at the time unsalvageable. I had a hot shower and my mother told me that if I used essential oils, like lavender, it would help with the cramping and relax me.

The sweet smell accompanied with the rising sun spilling golden light in the bathroom through the frosted window was so satisfying.

The cramping subsided, like it knew how happy and content I had been in that moment.

My mother truly cared and she was giving me helpful tips, maybe all I needed to was grow up and stop being a child to finally receive her love.

I changed into comfy clothes, nothing too fancy and left my hair unbrushed. Something I am usually castrated for.

As I stepped down the final step of the grand stair case and pushed open the kitchen door I saw her.

Her shiny auburn hair was down and an apron was tied tight around her waist. She even had flour on her face from the pancakes she was making.

Pancakes for me.

I smiled, "Morning mum." She turned and looked at me and smiled.

Approaching me she placed a hand on my cheek and leaned down to kiss me on the forehead, "Morning my young woman" She muttered against my skin.

I was beyond stunned. We weren't a very physical family, the last time she hugged me was captured in a photo that sat on my dresser.

My first year of school.

I felt the knot in the back of my throat form but the tears in my eyes stopped at the footsteps behind me.

My father had entered the kitchen and wrapped a hand around my shoulder, he kissed the top of my head and breathed, "You'll always be my little girl."

We both chuckled and he moved around to wrap his hands around my mothers waist as she cooked breakfast for us. For her family.

She must've been so happy that I was no longer a 'reckless child'.

There was a knock at the door and my father excused himself to answer it. There was a plate placed in front of me and my mum poured syrup on my pancakes in the shape of a smiley face before laughing at the absurdity.

I chuckled and mumbled a thank you before cutting into them and taking a bite.

My fathers raised voice was emitting form the hallway and mum's eye brows creased in concern. She left the room and I downed the pancakes in front of me.

The sun had risen high enough in the sky that the enormous Pine in the back yard was stopping the yellow light form filling the room.

The usual bright white light filling the void. So cold and unforgiving.

My mothers polite tone filled the room as the door opened, "Please, sit, make yourself comfortable." She pulled the door shut behind her and I turned to smile at her again.

Her face hard as stone she glowered at me, my baggy clothes and messy hair from bed. I had spilled syrup on my bottom lip and tried to get it off with my tongue.

"Honestly child," She huffed, "Go get dressed, we have company."

That was it.

The day I turned 14 I had my first muggle morning, like in their movies, and my last.

I glanced down at my plate, my eyes in my lap watching my hands clench together so hard my knuckled turned white.

I apologised and asked to be excused from the table.

I was gifted her usual grunt and slid from the breakfast bar.

The tears fell once. Twice. Then just like the rest of my birthday, I remained emotionless and cold.

The blinding pale, white light of Mattheo's Patronus made me flinch. The stone grey eyes of my mothers stared back at me.

Her grimace was pointed and accusatory and I know that I had run away from home but the reason I left, for my freedom, for my choice. Surely she would understand. She had to. I'd make her.

"You have always been so ungrateful" she spat at me. Her wand was pointed at me, I was so unfocused.

I swapped into combat mode for a second, thinking about blasting my mother with decendo but I couldn't even bring myself to raise my wand.

"Cerci" I heard Mattheo yell.

Draco was still attempting to Cruxio Mattheo but he was doing a magnificent job at dodging and counter casting.

Both senior Malfoy's were watching, unmoving. I'm sure they'd been told to let the people we had 'wronged' handle us.

My mother spat words, a curse, but I was still staring down the point of her wand. She had actually raised it against me. My own mother was going to harm me with her magic.

Gone was the memory of that 14th birthday morning and replaced by every happy memory was the image of my own mother glaring at me angrily down the wood of her wand.

Olivander had told me that this wand was the twin to my mothers, made with the same core and wood.

Light shot from the tip of her wand and I had managed to wordlessly cast Protego in time to watch the green light fall down the face of the shield.

"Imperio" the word echoed around the trees and back to my ears over and over again.

Okay, this was really happening.

My mother had tried to use the Imperious Curse on me. Her own flesh and blood.

My gaze hardened and the cold, strong, mask I had been taught, of the Rose family descended upon my face.

"expelliarmus" I shouted back in response, only dropping the shield around me for a second to cast the disarming spell.

Her eyes widened and then refixed in that solid glare.