Draco Malfoy's Perspective

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Saturday morning. Eleven fifteen.

Violet strolled from the castle doors by herself, the Slytherin broach pinned proudly to her casual robes. She had gone to Professor Flitwick and asked him to validate if the gems in the broach were emeralds. One swish of his wand later, he handed her the broach and told her to keep careful track of it. The gems were indeed cut emeralds.

The leisurely walk took fifteen minutes, so Violet stepped into Gladrags Wizardwear to pass the time. She wouldn't have come to Hogsmeade if not for Elder coming, so she wasn't planning to purchase anything. She'd brought just enough money for one Butterbeer.

Eleven fifty-five. The Three Broomsticks was crowded to overflowing; Madam Rosemerta was bustling about, hands full of Butterbeers. How was she going to find Elder in this? She didn't even know what he looked like.

She adjusted her broach and approached the bar. "One Butterbeer," she said to a man up there.

"You and the rest of 'em. Gimme a minute."

She waited patiently, then realised that her broach was hidden from the rest of the room and turned to look around. What was she looking for? A sign that read "ELDER IS HERE" with an arrow?

"Here ya go. Three Sickles."

She handed over the coins and grasped the mug with both hands, taking a sip as she looked around. The place was so crowded she couldn't have found a troll if it was standing ten feet from her.

"Violet?" said a male voice to her right. He sounded slightly out of breath, or rather, nervous.

She turned. He wasn't in school robes, not that anyone so old would have been. He was at least twenty-five, with sandy blond hair and light eyes. Eyes similar to her own actually. "Are you Elder?"

"Yes." He eyed the mug in her hands and smiled. "Ah, you should've let me get that for you. One Butterbeer," he ordered, rummaging in his pockets. He produced six Sickles, handing three to Violet and three to the bartender.

"I paid for my own drink," she said, trying to hand the money back. He danced out of reach, seemingly ecstatic. She was glad to meet him too, but what made him so happy?

He was thin enough that he didn't knock into many people (notice the word many) as he danced away. Violet eventually pocketed the money and walked outside with him so they could talk.

As already stated, he was a thin young man, with hardly enough meat on his bones to keep him from being a skeleton. He was tall too. Not enormously, but at least a head taller than Violet. He wore well-to-do robes from Madam Milkin's, although his were not black but navy blue with shimmering lining.

Elder gestured for Violet to sit on a bench outside Honeydukes, and she did. He sat next to her, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "You'll have to forgive me if I'm rash. I've been waiting for this moment for many, many years. I know you have plenty of questions for me, Violet, and I'll do my best to answer every single one."

"What's your real name?"

"Vincent. I'm going to ask you to wait for my last name."

"Alright. How do you know me?"

"I've known you for years, Violet." He smiled brightly. "But I left your life before you could remember me. I kept track of your birthdays though; I didn't want to miss a single big event in your life."

"That begs the question of your birthday," she said. It was hardly fair for him to know everything about her and for her to know so little about him.

"November 18." Violet almost choked on her Butterbeer. Vincent pat her on the back like one would burp a baby, his brow creased. "Are you alright?" he asked in concern.

"Fine. The 18?" He nodded, now amused. "That's tomorrow!"

"So it is. What a nice birthday gift–finally getting to meet you." He smiled at her.

"Okay, I've waited long enough. What's your last name?" The curiosity was almost paining her, and she was a naturally patient person.

His smile wavered for a moment before returning. "That broach is a family heirloom. Given to the oldest daughter in the family. It was Mum's, before I took it from her. It's rightfully yours now."

"I know all Pureblood families are related, but I don't think I have such a claim on a family heirloom." She began to take it off, but his hand laid over hers.

"Trust me, it's rightfully yours. It was yours when you turned sixteen."

She looked up at him. "Explain, Vincent."

He nodded; he seemed to sober up now. "It's only fair to tell you. I wanted to tell you years ago, but I wasn't sure how you would react. I'm still not." He took a breath. Procrastinating. "I'm twenty-six years old tomorrow. I knew you for one year before I left for Hogwarts, and I didn't go home after that. I grew up around Death Eaters, and I hated them. I hated my parents too; they abandoned the Death Eaters when they found out they were pregnant again. I got a sister. That was just under a year before I left for Hogwarts. I loved my sister, but I hated my parents too much to go back."

"What's your sister's name?"

His eyes were careful. Hesitant. "Violet."

Violet calmly took a sip of her drink; it was starting to get cool. "You're my brother?" She could've been talking about the weather.

"I am." He sat quite still, gauging her reaction. "Believe that I wanted to tell you before you turned eleven. Years before now. But I didn't want to see our parents again. I couldn't see them again. I knew you hadn't been brought up as a Slytherin when you were sorted to Gryffindor, and for a while that was good enough."

"Then I was moved to Slytherin."

"It was a shock to me, to say the least. I thought you were messing with me. But when I heard that you weren't tricking me, I thought the universe was playing some kind of prank on me." He shook his head.

"I was moved for a reason. I have yet to find out what it is."

A new voice spoke then. "Dating an older man, Ramsey? I wouldn't expect anything more from a–"

"Don't finish that sentence, Malfoy," said Vincent, leaping to his feet between the two students. He knew that she had told Draco that she was a Muggleborn, and even if the term didn't apply, he didn't want it spoken toward his sister.

"It's alright, Vincent. What were you going to say, Malfoy?" she probed, taking an innocent drink of her Butterbeer. She knew Draco wasn't going to say what Vincent thought.

"I was going to say I wouldn't expect anything more from a friendless girl like yourself."

"I'll have you know that this is my brother, ignorant twat. Now go away. I have to share a dormitory with you; I'd rather not have to spend today with you as well."

He grunted, but left. Vincent sat back down. "To think you were once on good terms with him..."

"For three days. But he's only ever called me a you know what twice. The Sorting last year, and early last year when I made him really angry."

"Not at all this year?"

"No."

He nodded. "Alright."

They finished their Butterbeers, and Violet fingered the broach again. "Thank you for giving it to me. I've never seen it before."

"It was Mum's, but she was ashamed of it and had it hidden away. I took it when I heard you'd run away. Speaking of, I found a place with two bedrooms, a single bathroom, and a kitchen. That's all that's in it, but it's big enough for the both of us."

Violet smiled broadly. "That's great."