The Lost Potter || Draco Malfoy [BOOK 1]

Chapter 2

MAYA'S POINT OF VIEW

It was about seven in the evening when I heard a knock on our front door.

"Get the fucking door!" My foster mother screamed. I rolled my eyes, immediately knowing that yell was for me.

"If this lady doesn't shut up," I thought. I wouldn't dare to say it out loud, but my foster mother, Kathleen, had to be the most annoying woman I'd ever laid my eyes upon.

"Yes Kathleen." I muttered, standing up from my spot in the corner of my room, and walking into the living room.

I'm sorry, did I say room? I meant my supply closet. Honestly, the supply closet wasn't so bad, compared to the other things in my life. Sure, I outgrew it by the time I was ten, but other than that it was relatively cozy in there.

Yes, I know. You thought I was going to complain about how terrible my life was and how much I wished to leave?

Wrong.

Sure, I would have loved to leave, but I had already accepted the fact that I would live in this house and dealing with my foster family and their bullshit until the legal age to get emancipated, which was 16.

I even lit my foster sister, Delilah's hair on fire. Well, I didn't do it purposely, but I was proud of it. She ripped one of my library books, the only luxury I had in this apartment. I got pissed since it would cost at least fifteen dollars to replace it, and it was as if fire came to my hands and I shot a fireball at her.

Sure I was proud, but pride didn't prevent the royal ass whooping I received from my foster father, Lester.

I shuddered. The mere thought of that man made my skin crawl.

I looked through the peephole to see a boy that reminded me of Percy Jackson with glasses and an elderly man that reminded me of Gandalf.

The boy had jet black hair, and little circle glasses that looked oddly familiar.

I opened the door. "Welcome to the Foy Residents, how may I assist you?" I asked with a fake grin. The Foy's make me say that every time I answer the door since they have a 'successful small business', which was selling weed.

It was disgusting, and the house always smelled like alcohol and drugs, especially because my foster father couldn't go an hour without smoking pot, drinking a beer, or even the occasional line or two of coke.

"We are looking for Amaya Evangeline Potter. Does she live here?" The mini Percy Jackson With glasses said, shriveling up his nose in disgust at the smell.

My heart skipped a beat. No one, and I mean no one, has ever come to the apartment door asking for me. Who the hell were these people? Why were they here? Why are they asking for me?

Will I get to leave?

"That's me..." I said with my voice trailing off. "And it's Maya."

I locked eyes with the boy, his emerald green eyes meeting mine.

"What happened?" Asked the boy, pointing to the small bruise forming under my eye.

I slapped my hand over it, wincing a little. "What's it to you?" I snapped defensively.

He seemed a bit taken aback by my snappy response, and I almost immediately felt bad. "Sorry, I don't want to talk about it. Who are you?"

"Well, nice to meet you, Miss Potter," Gandalf said. "May we come in?"

And why the HELL are they British?

"Uh...Kathleen?" I asked.

"What do you want—" she cut herself off.