Despite calling Malfoy Manor home for over a year now, Ariadne Black still marveled at the sheer size of the place. She had spent the first ten years of her life in a small but comfortable flat in Muggle London atop the cafe at which her mother had worked. Now, her closet alone was the size of her former bedroom, and Ariadne was certain that she'd never truly get used to the splendor.
Ariadne had come to live with the Malfoy's shortly before her tenth birthday, when her mother passed away. She had not known that she had family at all, though this ignorance was not surprising given her mother's reluctance to talk about her past. Selena Fenwick had only ever told her daughter one thing about her father– that he "was ultimately not the man that she always believed he was," whatever that meant.
Selena was not forthcoming, to put it lightly, about the Wizarding World, having abandoned it years previously for reasons that Ariadne now feared she may never know. This did not mean that Ariadne had been raised entirely without knowledge of magic. She had always known she was a witch, like one might know that they're a girl or that their favorite color is blue.
She had not, however, ever seen magic performed with the ease or frequency with which the Malfoy's used it. Ariadne could count on one hand every time that her mother had used magic, each time in the utter privacy of their home and still done quickly and quietly, as one might while doing something that they know they should not.
The casual use of magic was only one of many adjustments that Aria found herself facing when she was taken in by the Malfoy's. Sharing her home with boys was one that she had been particularly anxious about, having been alone with her mother for so long.
When Narcissa had picked Ariadne up from the muggle police station, looking distinctly out of place in sleek dark green robes, deterring second looks with the haughty expression on her face, she greeted Ariadne with a brief but warm hug and an announcement that they must leave quickly in order to retrieve her son from the train station, as he was returning home for the winter holidays.
"My Draco," Narcissa had begun, pride seeping through her voice, "is the most darling boy you'll ever meet. He's always been an only child, so he must get used to sharing attention, but he has so many friends who absolutely adore him that I'm confident the two of you will get along extraordinarily well. He's in his first year at Hogwarts, which I'm sure your mother told you about, and where you'll be attending next year."
Ariadne had flinched at the mention of her mother, but pushed the thought out of her mind in favor of nodding her confirmation. Narcissa seemed nice enough, but she was not Aria's mother and Aria was therefore wary of allowing her weaknesses to show.
In fact, Ariadne's mother had told her about Hogwarts, but only very briefly and only in her darker moments (which were thankfully rather rare), when a combination of nostalgia and wine created memories far too painful to bear alone.
Only then would she regale Aria with tales of her school years: tales of a House called Ravenclaw, of her brave brother Benjy, of yet another lively prank by a fantastic group called the Marauders. Aria had reveled in these stories, in the chance to connect with her mother. Oh, her mother loved her, Ariadne knew that. And she loved her mother. But she did not know her mother, not really, due to the secrets that had unintentionally wedged their way between them.
Ariadne had been so lost in her thoughts that she did not fully hear Narcissa's next words– a warning. Instead she grabbed hold of Narcissa's outstretched elbow rather mindlessly. Ariadne was met with the immediate punishment of the worst bout of nausea she had ever had in her life, even worse than the time that all of the students in her primary school had the flu and class was canceled for a week. Muggles just don't have the same access to healing potions that wizards do, her mother had told her, and time was therefore often their best remedy. Aria thus allowed herself a few moments of dry heaving to recuperate.
When she finally looked up, she had found herself on a train platform, surrounded by three pale blondes staring down at her. The only hint of concern for Aria's wellbeing showed itself in the very slight furrow of Narcissa's perfectly arched brows.
"Mother," the boy had asked, hair slicked back and chin pointed. "Did you bring me a muggle?"
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Draco, as it turned out, was not the most darling boy that Aria would ever meet. His lips curled into a permanent sneer, emitting a pampered air that gave Aria the distinct impression that he had never been denied anything in his life.
In many ways, Aria also wanted for very little, though she imagined that she had far less requests than Draco could have. Despite her mother's meagre salary at the cafe, Aria's greatest material wishes were always fulfilled, as if out of thin air. When her class had taken an overnight trip to Cornwall, for example, Aria's mother took double shifts in order to pay the fees. Just before the payment was due, Selena declared that she had made enough money to send Aria off. Aria was a relatively smart child, and knew that her mother had been miles away from their goal only the day prior. When pressed, Selena took Aria in her arms and told her not to worry about it.
"He would have want you spoiled, I think," she had whispered in Aria's ear. Aria would have given up every class trip for the rest of her life if she could have known what her mother meant by that. Who? And why did she think? Why wouldn't she know?
As off-putting as her initial meeting with Draco was, he would soon come to treat her as a curiosity more than anything else, especially after Narcissa informed him that Ariadne was indeed a witch, and a Black at that.
It was Mr. Malfoy who ultimately most frightened her, standing above her with a sneer to match his son's. Mr. Malfoy had an additional anxiety-inducing tool at his disposal - a slick black cane with a snakehead on top, its bejeweled emerald eyes somehow piercing into her own grayish-blue. Aria averted her eyes, fixing themselves on Narcissa instead. She attempted not to look as helpless as she felt, but must have failed, for Narcissa stepped in.
"Lucius and Draco, darlings. This is Ariadne Black, my cousin's daughter. She is family and should be treated as such, so do be on your best behavior." Narcissa looked meaningfully at Lucius on the word "cousin" and at Draco on the word "family."
After finishing, she settled her gaze back onto Aria, who noticed for the first time just how similar their eyes were, though Narcissa's were more gray than blue and Aria's more blue than gray (a remnant of her mother, whose blue eyes had been one of her most striking features). It was then that Aria realized that Narcissa's cousin must be her father, that she was looking at her father's family. She finally had a link, though she did not dare mention him. Not yet. But her dad must have had gray eyes, she knew that.
"Call me Aria," she had requested instead, holding her hand out nervously. Mr. Malfoy's mouth twisted into a rather tight grin.
"We shall not," he replied. "Ariadne is an acceptable name for a young witch. Aria is the name of a muggle child, which you are not. While living with us, I anticipate that you shall conduct yourself in a manner befitting a witch of your status, particularly as you associate with the Malfoy name." Ariadne nodded mutely, choking back what she then recognized as youthful longing for her mother and the comforts of their muggle lives together. That was Aria's life, and she was Aria no longer.
Ariadne had a much simpler time exiting King's Cross than she did entering, following the Malfoy's silently to the nearest Apparition Point. She listened as Draco prattled on about his last semester at Hogwarts, excited for the chance to learn what to expect from this strange, old-but-new world.
"...while Potter simply prances about as if he owns the place and that old coot caters to his every demand. Oh, I'm Potter, I'm Gryffindor's Golden Boy and I miss my mummy and daddy. Did you know, Father, that McGonagall only let Potter onto the Quidditch team because she felt bad for him? Probably. That's what I heard anyway."
Lucius nodded along, and a rather indulgent smile appeared on his face while Draco spoke. It had surprised Ariadne, but not nearly as much as Draco's story had. She couldn't help herself and found herself speaking.
"Sorry, but you don't mean Harry Potter, do you?" Ariadne may have been out-of-touch by Wizarding standards, but even she knew the story of the Boy-Who-Lived. She immediately realized, however, that she must have said something wrong, for both Lucius and Narcissa stopped walking in order to look at her and Draco narrowed his eyes.
"Yes..." He said slowly. "Why? You're not another one of his pathetic little fans, are you?" Ariadne thought Draco sounded quite bitter, but thought smartly to keep that to herself. Feeling the heat of Lucius's gaze on her Ariadne knew she must answer carefully. Well, she may have been a fan (who wasn't? Wasn't there a Harry Potter Day, after all?) but she certainly was not pathetic.
"Hah!" She laughed, a nervous little breath. "Of course not! I was just curious, that's all."
This must have been the correct answer, because the tension immediately left Narcissa's perfect posture as she turned back around to guide them home. Draco similarly seemed to deflate and, as if remembering his courtesies now that she was not a Potter fan, offered her his arm. Only Mr. Malfoy maintained an air of slight suspicion.
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That had been nearly a year and a half ago, halfway through Draco's first year. He had returned home for the summer three months ago and the two had gotten along rather well. Despite longing to learn more, Harry Potter was a topic that Ariadne carefully avoided, with the exception of Draco's mutterings about unfair treatment, cheating, and a House Cup.
One day in late August, she and Draco sat outside the manor. Ariadne allowed her skin to tan while Draco sulked in the shade, too pale to enjoy the sun properly. Draco spent his time using his wand to levitate rocks at a nearby peacock. Ariadne turned her head to look at him.
"I thought you weren't allowed to use magic outside of school?" She asked, having been given a rundown by Narcissa.
"You're not. But I'm a Malfoy." Draco answered quite simply, as if his last name explained all. And perhaps it did. He continued on, taking on what he must have viewed as a reassuring voice. "You'll be able to as well, because you're a Black. We can do things that others can't." Ariadne, quite unused to hearing Draco's superior tone as a means of comfort, merely hummed. She thought back to her Hogwarts letter, which had arrived a few weeks prior.
TO: MS. ARIADNE EFFY BLACK
MALFOY MANOR
WILTSHIRE, ENGLAND
Her stomach had fluttered with excitement then, for the chance to finally live what she'd been hearing about her whole life, and for the chance to finally learn more about her parents. Now, as the first day of school approached closer and closer, her butterflies were turning into nerves of pure dread. What if her parents disappointed her? What if she didn't have any friends? What if no one liked her? What if she was rubbish at magic?
Ariadne's fears ran so deep that she voiced them to Draco. He laughed, and Ariadne was rather hurt until he began to speak.
"You're a Black," he repeated once more, "like my mother. Besides, you'll be in Slytherin with me. If I tell someone to be your friend, they'll be your friend."
That didn't sound much like friendship to Ariadne, but she was grateful enough for Draco's support that she didn't voice those concerns. He even promised her that he'd find people "suitable" for her to sit with on the train. In a rather touching attempt at calming her, he even offered to find her some tea. Ariadne smiled but declined, knowing what that meant. She instead promised to have some later.
As much as Draco had grown on her in the past few months, she still could not wrap her head around the concept of House Elves, nor could she support the Malfoys' treatment of them. Draco's offer to find her tea meant that he would bully Dobby into making her some.
Dobby had been incredibly kind to Ariadne over an otherwise lonely year at the Manor. Narcissa did her best, but she had duties as the Lady of the House and as a Lady of society and could not always keep Ariadne company. Lucius still frightened her, and she scarcely interacted with him besides a few cold dinners. He worked often, and otherwise retreated to his own wing of the house. So, she had Dobby, who was a bright light in her life and a rather excellent conversationalist. Plus, he really did make a perfect cup of tea.
After retreating to her room, Ariadne felt her nerves returning in full force, especially as she thought about the planned excursion to Diagon Alley tomorrow. She'd finally get her wand! Perhaps she'd meet people, or find out what Draco was like at school. Ariadne decided to take Draco's suggestion and called for Dobby for tea.
But Dobby did not appear to be home.
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Okay, so this is my first story! This first chapter is actually a dense read but I promise it gets better. Please leave a comment and let me know if there's anything you like or don't like, or anything you want to see!
I have lots of ideas and would love to keep this going, but feedback of any kind to let me know that there are readers would be welcome!