Pureblood and Evil

This had never truly felt like home. It was his ancestors’ whose footsteps had echoed in these halls. Marriage–even one she considered as the best possible option for her as no other man had tried to understand her the way Rodolphus had–had been her concept of yet another prison. Of course, that had been before she’d suffered through a real one. Her younger self’s point of view was laughable. She’d had more freedom here than at her parents’ home. Rodolphus gifted that to her. She’d asked for a space of her own with excellent lighting,paint and canvas, to be seen as a person first and not a displayed prize. And she had given so little in return. If she’d been someone else, she imagined that someone would be reveling in this moment. She didn’t quite believe this was real. Rodolphus’ voice carried from elsewhere in the manor and she emerged from her room. She walked to the railing and studied him. There he was, at the bottom of the staircase, asking a question as if they’d returned from a trip to Paris. She chose to ignore his term of affection. “We’ll have to see if Narcissa or your relatives have our elves.There’s dust everywhere.” And she needed her wand. Well,a wand. She doubted the Ministry would give her’s back.

“They did, but it was only elegant sorts of things kind of like what you’d get in Hogwarts. I thought it’d be much more casual over there, but then again they have so many rules.” Ophelia shrugged before picking up another slice, catching a piece of pepperoni just before it could drop into her lap. “Of course, they were more than happy to. Well, it had taken a while for us to retrieve the key from the Manor. Lucius told me that Aurors investigated and stripped the place down as soon as you were in Azkaban and I was here, but he had been able to pull some strings to get the Gringotts key to our vault so I could start using the funds when I was old enough to understand how it all worked.”

Send “🍕” to have some pizza with my muse!

“Shit.”

Any chance she had of going unnoticed had dissipated before her eyes. Cassiopeia let out a breath that she hadn’t realized she had been holding. Making the attempt to pick up her wand, she teetered in her heels before her fingers wrapped themselves around her wand. She quickly straightened herself and ran her fingers through her hair. Doing her best to neaten up her appearance before facing her aunt.

“It’s just me, I was going upstairs. I lost track of time while I was out.”

Cassiopeia avoided eye contact with her aunt and she instead ventured a glance at the others in the room.

She felt like she had been hit square in the chest. Cassiopeia had managed to get a good look at the two strangers. Now the confused looks on her aunt and uncle’s faces made sense, these people under the rags and dirt were her parents. Cassiopeia never went out of her way to find pictures of her parents. She came across the odd picture every now and again but she didn’t like the feeling of longing they created. She preferred to not think about what she could never have. She suddenly felt she had been doused on cold water. ‘Who is Cassie?’ One question carried such weight behind it. Her jaw slackened as she stood there unable to form her rushing thoughts into a sentence.

Narcissa and Lucius looked to each other, unsure of how to answer this question. The answer itself was simple: Cassie is your daughter.  She was born before you were carted off to Azkaban for most of her natural-born life.  Certainly the Malfoys couldn’t speak of this so tactlessly, because there would be a lot of emotional turmoil from all parties involved.

So Bellatrix’s sister started, slowly. “Cassie…is your daughter.”  She paused a moment to let the information register in Rodolphus and Bellatrix’s minds.

“Our daughter? But when did we even have a child? In what world would I have allowed myself to get pregnant?!” Bellatrix replied disbelievingly.  This wasn’t like her.  She gritted her teeth, trying to process what this all meant.  Was she insane?  Was she hearing the wrong thing from Cissy?

You have lost my boy. I cannot speak of it, the loss is too great, but I see now that God will not grant me any male children. -It is not all my fault. You have no one to blame but yourself for this. I was distressed to see you with that wench Jane Seymour. Because the love I bear you is so great. It broke my heart to see you love others.

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