Chapter Text
I have always wanted a family: tied together by a bond more powerful than the metal forged by dragons’ fire. As the sole heir of the Rosier family, I should have known nothing but that. Had things gone remotely well, I would have been the family’s most prized possession. I would have known my traditions and mastered them. Yet, I stand alone with no one to share my history, no one to guide me through the wake they left behind them. I get to claim my throne as the last Rosier.
There was a series of discord surrounding my birth. The gossiping house witches would say that I grew into my name: I can’t say I would disagree. I would lose my family within four years. The only thing remaining would be my father’s journals, a crup, the signature Rosier two-tailed canine, a fortune I couldn’t access until I was eighteen, and a legacy to secure.
Evan Rosier was a well-known Death Eater who despised Dumbledore for killing his best friend and my godfather, Regulus Black. His journals never gave many details, only "Regulus set out the first sign of spring on Dumbledore’s behalf in 1979.” and a picture taped to the entry . Dark wavy hair and tired grey eyes. Regulus Black stood proudly beaming at the camera with my two-year-old self cradled in his arms. The picture flashes from him smiling at me, then to the camera. I can’t imagine having someone look at me with as much love as Regulus did. Unfortunately, it turns out that my godfather never made it to the summer.
My mother died from a broken heart: she took Regulus’ death harder than anyone. At first, she waited, unable to believe that his disappearance was fatal. It was a slow, self-consuming kind of withering away. Father didn’t keep any pictures of her after my birth, nor were there many pictures of us together. The last photo with Ana Selwyn was with my father, Regulus, and me in the Malfoy Library squished together on a leather couch. Ana held me close as she pushed back her head in laughter. Regulus and father bore massive grins, clearly proud of whatever had happened. Then the picture resets.
My father dedicated himself to the war. Lord Voldemort would be the solution to all our problems: he was sure of it. Fighting was his only way of avenging Regulus, and he had to give Regulus his peace. Regulus and my father were thick as thieves for most of their lives. The moment father met my mother: he knew if the time came, he would die for her. Not a day went by that he didn’t think about them. Father, like many Rosiers before him, was devoted to his friends. The Rosier way was to protect and serve them regardless of the cost. Friends were family if they could meet the Rosiers ’ standards- which were nearly impossible to satisfy. We are fiercely loyal by nature. Families are attracted to us for that reason: households like Malfoy, Zabini, and Parkinson.
When my father would go on stints, months passed between the time spent with me. Not that I could tell or knew what was happening. I lived with my godmothers. Narcissa Malfoy, Zemena Zabini, and Posy Parkinson, the three most powerful, influential, badass women in the world, were my caretakers while my father was away. They were my caretakers even when he was here. I don’t remember much of our time together, but from pictures and my father’s journal, I can tell that they loved me dearly. I was the first born, and the witches were excited to have a new toy.
✧
After three years of providing for me, they started having their own families. Pansy Parkinson was the firstborn. We all had rushed to the hospital, waiting for the newest addition to the family. The building was cold and grey. Too dull for any of us to enjoy sitting in. Zemena paced the hospital aisle waiting for news about the baby. The hallway was poorly lit and practically abandoned. Zemena’s heels clicked against the sterile tiles. Click click click. She’d let out a huff , click click click. Zemena would keep up this pattern until early in the morning. Narcissa held me close, tapping her fingers against me to subdue her nerves. When they brought Pansy out, they cried tears of joy. Zemena clung to her best friend's bed as Narcissa pulled me closer.
Pansy was swaddled in a forest green silk blanket as the nurse placed the baby on Posy’s chest. I watched as the three witches looked at each other. Posy is blatantly in love with the small girl within her arms. How could she not be? Zemena was red-eyed and stressed over the long wait. Narcissa cried the most: her smile practically tore her ear to ear. I wondered if this was the response they had when I was born. When Posy finally called me over, I climbed on the stiff linen sheets. Slowly I made my way over to meet the newest Parkinson. Pansy looked like a doll. She was tiny, perfect, with a head of black hair like her mother's. I was excited to get the chance to play with her. Posy let out a relieved laugh as I spoke about how happy I finally had a friend.
Then came Blaise. Zemena had insisted that we did it at her home. She had vouched that she would never go to a hospital, and she meant it. This time it was only Narcissa and I that attended. Pansy was too young, and Posy wasn’t ready to let go of her newborn. Zemena understood. Although, you could tell that there was an ache in her heart. Zemena spared no expense for Blaise. Everything was just as grand as always with the Zabini’s. She ensured they would be in the most luxurious silver sheets, blankets, and clothing. After watching Posy, Zemena swore to never go through something like that. Silk lined the entirety of the area. Mizzy, the house-elf, sat with me in the library. Narcissa stood by Zemena’s side the entire time. Blaise took his time, a habit he would continue as he grew. I waited for what felt like eons until Narcissa said I could see him. I stayed up until the early morning, eager to meet him. I couldn’t wait for the adventures the three of us would get in. However, I didn’t realize that gaining two new friends would take two away.
Zemena and Posy were busy with their newborns and careers. Pansy was a fussy child, often screaming for her mother. Posy’s fashion empire was taking off. Blaise refused to sleep at night, causing Zemena to rewrite her schedule to match her son. Even with the help of their elves, the two witches were tired. They did everything with their babies or as much as they could. The two women were stressed, and I couldn’t bear to add more. I insisted I remained with Narcissa until she gave birth. After a few weeks, Narcissa started getting sick.
Her pregnancy wasn’t as smooth as her friends. Narcissa was always a little green or tired. She tried to rally through it until she couldn’t. Lucius was an inconsolable mess. The man was growing colder by the day with worry. Narcissa wasn’t moving: she spent all of her time asleep. Suddenly Narcissa was in the hospital, and Lucius refused to leave her side. I didn’t blame him. I wanted to stay with them, but they said it was no place for a kid. So I spent time in Malfoy Manor with Mizzy. Narcissa and Draco would spend three months healing.
I stayed with Mizzy for a few days until my father came waltzing through the door. I was so excited to see him that Mizzy was sure I might wet myself. She warned him not to rile me up, but he just shook his golden-covered head and laughed. He was different, more attentive than usual. I spent every waking moment with him. I never realized how much I missed him and his sandy blonde hair, an untamable shaggy mess with soft blue eyes. He rarely ever let me down. When he did, I didn’t go farther than an arm's reach. He took me everywhere with him, even if it was just a trivial errand like a trip to the market.
Every night, we would sit in the Malfoy library, curled up on the black leather loveseat with a book. His signature scent of oak, amber, and ash engulfed me as he flipped a page over. We read Peter Pan: his laughter would dance around the mahogany bookshelves as I asked if he had ever wanted to be a lost boy. He would smile at me and say, “ Maybe as a kid, but then I met Regulus, Uncle Barty, your mother, and your godmothers. I realized that they were my happily ever after. Sometimes you’ll meet people that make even the best fairy tales seem silly. You find the most wonderful magic in them, and nothing can make you want to give it up. Like you, I wouldn’t want to give you up for all of Neverland.”
He’d pull me closer to him and talk about the magic that Neverland possessed. I would nuzzle myself into his chest, letting his scent draw me into a soft slumber. Sometimes he would use magic to create tiny images that would float around us as he continued. I would stay up as late as possible, not wanting to miss a second. Eventually, I would fall asleep, and he would scoop me into his arms. Father quietly carried me to his room, and I would spend the rest of my night wrapped in his arms. Sometimes I faked it, wanting to catch the little whispers he would say when I wasn’t listening. They were usually sweet, but sometimes he cried.
“ I love you, Eris.”
“I will end this for you.”
“I will always come home for you.”
“I’m sorry. So sorry.”
“You are the best thing that has happened to me.”
“I couldn’t imagine what I would do- who I would be without you.”
“I would die if that meant you could see a brighter future.”
One morning in summer, just before the Malfoys would be returning, he came bursting through his door. A grin spread across his face as he spoke. “I have a gift for you.”
“A gift,” I said, dropping my book and looking at him excitedly.
“A gift,” he confirmed. He moved away from the room and casually walked down the hall. I quickly followed him. My bare feet thump against the cold stone floor. He stuck out his hand for me to take, and naturally, I did. It was much bigger than mine and calloused.
I questioned with excitement raking through my body. “Is it a book?”
“A book? Oh, Merlin, you are your mother’s daughter.” He laughed as I let out a small huff. “Not a book, but a protector of sorts. A gift from your ancestor.”
Ancestors? Now I was unable to contain the excitement that racked through my body. I twitched at the possibilities. Father led me through the Manor and towards the maze in the yard. In the field sat Nightshade, my father’s dog, head held high as she pants, waiting for my father. When Nightshade caught his scent, her ears twitched before she ran to greet her master. Nightshade was muscular and lean. Her fluffy black fur bounced with each stride.
She immediately stopped at my father’s side, waiting for her following command. I never spent much time with Nightshade. She was always with my dad. Nightshade’s job to protect her master: as a Rosier crup, she would die for him if need be. Then the ever tiniest bark broke the silence. Out from under Nightshade flashed two golden-brown eyes. Then another bark. I looked from Nightshade to my father: uncertain of what was happening. Father reached down, petting Nightshade before reaching under her and grabbing something.
“This is Shadow. He will be your best friend and guardian,” he said as he placed the little creature in my arms. The little crup was gangly, all legs, with a big head. He was the most precious thing I had ever seen. My father continued, “He’s special. Nightshade and I have been training him just for you. You’ll always have a piece of me and the Rosiers with you now.” I couldn’t help but cry. I sniffled as I set Shadow to the ground. The little thing barked at my feet as I wrapped my arms around my father.
Shadow was a late birthday gift. Father refused to give him to me until he had learned his “special trick.” We would spend hours every day working on commands. The two-tailed creature was still growing but was already taller than me. The house-elves panicked, worried how the Malfoys would react to my new pet. Father shrugged them off, dismissing them with a wave of his hand, “The Malfoys knew what they were getting into long before this. They should be thanking me. I took all the hard work out of it for them.”
Shadow and my father never left my side: I always had one of them. If father had to step away, Shadow was already in his spot. When Mizzy insisted she could watch me for him to take a break, he refused. It felt like he was making up for the lost time. I didn’t mind it. He would say that I was the best thing that happened to them: he didn’t want to miss a moment with me. I would agree. Father was my favorite person. The only place I ever wanted to be was with him.
Eventually, Narcissa and Lucius came home with Draco. My heart stopped at the sight of him. He was tiny, purple, and so quiet. Draco was a sick baby, as the Malfoys often reminded me, so I had to be extra careful. I didn’t think anyone could be so perfect. Narcissa sat me in the seat I shared with my father the night before. She made me promise not to move. Shadow lay at my feet, eager for a look at the baby wrapped in a white blanket. When I finally held him, I refused to let him go. It took them hours before I gave them back the little dragon. My father laughed at Lucius’ expression as I huffed and puffed about Draco leaving my care. Narcissa quickly grew accustomed to Shadow and I following her and Draco around the room.
✧
A month after my fourth birthday, my godmothers had their daily playtime at the Malfoy Manor. I sat on the cold marble floor with Shadow curled up in my lap. The house-elves watched the babies as they gushed over their cuteness. The elves passed them around as I ran my fingers through Shadow’s fur. My attention focused on the three-panel windows. Water slowly ran down the glass, taking different paths with each droplet. It was raining, but not the normal sprinkle, but a downpour, unusual for the season. The sound of the water quickly hitting against the stones outside, the pattering dancing through the manor. Lightning struck, and thunder banged like they were instruments in the symphony of the weather. The skies had grown grey and moody, the trees in the courtyard shaking in the wind. It felt like the earth was mourning as the rain fell like tears. There was tension in the air: then it disappeared with a loud thud.
The sound had startled Shadow awake, bringing him to his feet, ready to guard as he scanned the room. It carried my attention to the Dinning room, where my godmothers were sitting. The three witches were frozen, surprise painted on their faces. I followed their gaze to the floor. Lucius had come home. He hadn’t come through the fire pit like usual. Instead, he was on his knees. Strange. I watched the man shake, looking up at the three startled witches. Something was wrong: I could tell by the tension growing between them. With each passing moment, the air was growing thicker. Three witches were frozen in time as they watched the man before them. It was almost beautiful.
He was beaten and battered, and the smell of iron lingered in the air. Narcissa rushed out of her seat over to her husband, trying to steady the shaken man. Her knees hit the floor, the sound mixing in with her cries. Narcissa called for house-elves and her friends as she clung to her husband. Tears fell from her cheeks as she spoke. Posy was quick to her feet and ran to the medicine cabinet that Narcissa kept stocked in the kitchen down the hall. I can hear Narcissa call to her as the bottles clinked against each other. Zemena rushed over to Narcissa, black dragonhide purse in hand. She pulled out her work kit. The three witches surrounded Lucius, whisper-yelling and moving quickly.
I watched as they patched the man up and did what they could to stop the bleeding. It was the only time I ever saw Zemena practice her craft. Well, as close to it as I will ever come. The three of them worked perfectly together as if this had happened before. Each took turns speaking and asking questions. None answered in detail. I assume they were trying to understand what events played out: answers to why blood stained the new floor and their clothes. They whispered amongst themselves before Lucius looked at me. Lucius wasn’t capable of showing emotions, not many at least. He was never a man to wear more than four expressions, which I had come to understand, were his versions of happiness, anger, confusion, and indifference. Usually, he bore his indifference mask.
However, the storm within his eyes was like nothing I’d seen before. His grey-blue eyes were puffy and red. They held so much sorrow that tears slowly fell from his cheeks. Lucius had only cried once when my Father made him laugh to the point that he couldn’t breathe. When they met mine, it seemed to worsen. I frowned at his gaze, not understanding what was making him so upset. Lucius was calm and collected, not a quivering mess. The last thing I would ever want would be to contribute to this. If my father saw him like this, he’d make a joke, and they’d laugh. He would never let Lucius get so worked up. Father would break the tension, and Lucius would feel better. My godmothers would scuff and tell him to bug off. My father could fix it. I know he could.
Where is he?
The witches gathered Lucius off the floor and into his room. They stayed there for what seemed like hours. I returned my attention to the windows once more. If only I were older, I could share their burdens. I could do as my father would have and break the tension. If only I could be more like him. He was so calm and effortless. I wanted nothing more than to be like him, look like him. I was never enough like him. My mind wandered to what my father was up to and the adventure he was on. I looked to my future and tried to find ways that I could be helpful to them. My thoughts came to a stop. Narcissa’s voice called for me.
Her voice was shaky and soft. “Little one…. Little Dragon, won’t you join us in the library?”
Without hesitation, I went to her. I moved through the halls, Shadow by my side. The portraits of past Malfoys greeted me as I reached closer to Narcissa. I poked my head into the massive room. It smelled like leather, mint, and parchment. There were faint traces of oak, amber, and ash lingering in the air.
My father. Oh, how I miss him.
I stepped in and furrowed my brows. Zemena and Posy sat together on the leather sofa, the two sniffling as I approached them. Lucius stood behind. His knuckles almost read as he gripped the sofa backing. It was alarming to see these women crying in such an earth-shattering way. Horrifying to see Lucius so broken. These were not the same tears from when the babies were born: these were so much more heartbreaking. I started to worry about Lucius. I looked behind me when I saw Narcissa’s signal. I turned towards the blonde witch. Her eyes were equally as red and puffy, her nose pink too. She was disheveled as she patted her lap.
She sat in my favorite place, the leather loveseat. I didn’t hesitate to join her. Her cold hands took hold of mine, intertwining our fingers. We sat there for a moment. Silence lingered, only to be broken by sniffling. I looked around the room. It was a strange sight to see. The most powerful magic wielders I knew were thoroughly broken. Narcissa finally broke the silence, her grip tightening around me.
“Eris, we love you. You know that, right?” Her voice was shaky. I nodded. “We are always here for you. You are as much our child as our own.” I just looked at her as she continued, “Your father won’t be coming home.”
It took them a few hours to explain that my father would never be coming home. At first, it was clear: he worked for long periods, but he always came back. No matter how much time he spent away: he always came back. He’d tell me that I was the best thing that ever happened to them. When it became clear that I wasn’t grasping what they were trying to say, Narcissa took me in her arms and apologized.
“I am so sorry, Eris. I am so sorry.” She repeated this over and over as she pressed me to her. Holding me tight: her tears fell from her face just as hard as the rain. Between sobs, Narcissa whispered, “My little dragon, Evan, your father is dead.”
In a few days, they held the funeral at Malfoy Manor. The rain had finally stopped, but the sky was as gloomy as when he died. Narcissa insisted that she held the ceremony in her home, that it was where he’d want to be. She was right father loved the Manor. She, Posy, and Zemena spent days prepping and perfecting his memorial. I’m not sure he would have liked it, but they were trying very hard: with the planning and keeping a strong facade when I was around. It didn’t help. I knew they were just as miserable as I was; I wanted to be sad.
Black chairs lined the foyer in rows. Dahlias, roses, and wildflowers decorated the aisles. Violens softly played in the background. People came to speak, but my attention focused on his black oak coffin, sitting inches away from me. There were too many people I didn’t know. My robes left trails of burning itches along my skin as I angrily scratched at it. The adults just stared at me, shaking their heads. I was growing more anxious with each second. I didn’t want to look. When they called us to say our last goodbyes: I didn’t want to go.
I didn’t want to see him. I’ve seen him sleeping thousands of times. Not like that. His hair wasn’t his typical mess: he no longer wore a dopey half-smile. He didn’t huff, snore, or twitch his nose like he did when he napped. He was so much paler. His laughter wasn’t dancing across the room. He wasn’t making Posy swat at him as he told jokes: he wasn’t fighting with Zemena over battle tactics. Father wasn’t gossiping with Narcissa, nor was he snickering with Lucius over quidditch. He was not holding me in his arms. I wanted to cry, scream, or maybe kick a chair or two. I want to rip myself from Narcissa’s grip and throw a fit. I want him to wake up and tell me it was a joke, that he was okay. The only thing I felt was anger. I had lost so many people before I got to know them. I only had one person, and he was gone. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.
Instead, I followed Narcissa. I let her keep her grip on me until she set me back in my seat. I watched as people I didn’t know came in and out. They would walk up the aisle, stand at the coffin, and move to the spot Narcissa, Posy, and Zemena stood, eye me, gossip, and leave. Over and over, people repeated the same motions. I never met people outside of my father’s family. Yet, so many strangers here, whispering about him and me as if they knew either of us. Rage bubbled, and I wished to scream at them. I wanted to tell them to go away and never come back.
“Whoah there, kid. Take a breather,” A female voice laughed. I didn’t notice the witch walk up to me, nor did I realize she had taken the seat next to me. She crossed her legs, her black dress lifting to reveal black pointed boots, as she continued, “I’d hate for a fit of magic to ruin such a lovely ceremony.”
I scrunched my face at her words. I wasn’t sure if she was trying to help or instigate, but I dropped my attention to my feet. Narcissa would kill me if I accidentally let my magic lose. I scanned my eyes over the designs in the marble flooring, willing that the witch would leave. I wasn’t in the mood to talk. Granted, she was the first one to speak to me.
When she realized I wasn’t going to speak, she spoke cooly, “Your father was a dick.” I immediately shot a glare in her direction, she laughed before continuing, “A dick, but he was a good man. Evan did a lot for our cause.”
I took this moment to examine the witch beside me. Her black curls were pulled back and hung messily. She looked like Narcissa with darker features. Her eyes were black, and her smile was wide, showing perfect teeth. She wore the Black crest on top of her high-neckline lace dress. Her posture was relaxed but poised, head held high. She turned to me with a crooked smile.
“He talked about you a lot. Evan rarely regretted his decisions. He regretted every time he left you. I am sorry we lost him. He shouldn’t have died so soon.” She paused before placing her hand on my hand, “It’s okay to feel angry for having him taken away. Be angry that they took him away. Feel the pain, don’t hide it. There is nothing wrong with being angry.”
Then Narcissa’s voice rang, “Bella! Sister, do come here.” Bellatrix looked to her sister, then to me. She slowly stood and started to make her way over to my godmother.
I dropped my gaze to the floor, the anger bubbling again. I mustered as much courage as I could. “Bellatrix!” The witch paused, looking over her shoulder at me with a raised brow. “Will you….” I wasn’t sure what I wanted her to do. I furrowed my brows, trying to think of the right words.
Bella spoke casually, “I will kill the man that took your father, don’t you worry.”
I looked at her, eyes wide, surprised by her promise. I had never had anyone talk about death like that. She was confident in her words. She didn’t look back at me. Her eyes stayed forward as she joined Narcissa. I watched the group talk amongst themselves. Bella had her arms locked with Narcissa: Posy and Zemena stood similarly. Voices filled the foyer, hushed whispers pushing themselves into my head. I thought my head might explode from the sounds.
Then came complete and utter silence. Overwhelmingly so, I thought I might have gone deaf. Two men came in, and everything stopped. The only thing I could hear was the sound of their shoes echoing as they approached the first row of seats. Eventually, moving into my sight. One was tall, almost monstrously so. He was pale, his brown curls cleanly styled, with red eyes. His demeanor was menacing. Something about the man wasn’t as refined as the wizards I knew. However, I could tell he was respected, as people bowed their heads as he passed. There was something dangerous about him as he slithered past me.
The other was slightly shorter, wore a black trench coat, and licked his lips. He was no older than my father or Lucius. He walked with a bounce in his step, like he bore no burdens. His hands twitched as he played with the rings on his fingers. He was much more like the wizards I knew. The two men seemed to have a destination in mind, and it wasn’t my father. They approached Lucius, who had just joined his wife’s side. As they closed the distance, the group bowed at the men. They talked for a bit before Narcissa gestured towards the coffin. The taller man moved towards the coffin without ever acknowledging it. His voice demanded attention, and everyone delivered. He gave a speech about war and sacrifice. He spoke nothing of my father and everything of his cause. I folded into myself, bringing my knees to my chest, too sad to care about what he was saying.
The speech finished, and the man walked around the room. Arms opened wide as he greeted his followers. He treated the funeral more like a recruiting sight. That’s when the man in the coat noticed me. He cocked his head, whispering something to Zemena. He made his way over. He slowly walked as if he was nervous I might flee. Once he reached me, he bent down, crouching to his knees. “Hiya kid, how are you hanging on?”
I looked up at him with indifference. “My father is gone.”
He licked his lips and laughed. “Yeah, that’s fair. You have your father’s bite. He was always a bit short when mad. He liked to make the same face when he was hiding his emotions,” he paused, “Eris, did Evan ever talk about Uncle Barty?”
Ha. My father was an open book. This man didn’t know him well.
I blinked. “Father said that Barty and Reggie were his best friends. Uncle Barty wouldn’t let anyone hurt my father or me. Father said that Barty promised to bring him home to me. But my father isn’t coming home.”
He froze, surprised by the words of a child. “You’re right, kid. You have no idea just how sorry your Uncle Barty is. He missed your entire life. He couldn’t even keep his one promise.” After a moment of silence, he squeezed my hand before standing upright. He glanced down at me once more before moving to rejoin Zemana and the others.
✧
After my father passed, my godmothers tried to make me feel better and show that they were there for me. Narcissa had taken guardianship of me. It was a long-winded debate between the witches but came down to Narcissa being the closest to my parents. She, like the others, included me in everything. They wanted to be there for each moment in my life. But each grew to be busy with their family, their children. After a few years, they forgot about my father and my grief. I was trying desperately to move on, but I could never forget. How could I forget the one person who loved me the most? I would never have that love again. Their lives revolved around their children, and so would mine.
Pansy traveled everywhere with Posy, even to the witch’s work. Whenever they were home at the Parkinson Palace: they welcomed me with open arms. Pansy never failed to scream when she saw me. Granted, it was out of excitement but still startling to see a child pitch a fit at the sight of you. She’d follow me with her hand wrapped around my wrist as I dragged her around the house. Eventually, she would grow into dragging me around, her hand still wrapped around mine. Pansy lived by her whims: so would everyone else. She had a way of knowing what she wanted and was relentless with getting it. Pansy had a knack for the arts, more so painting and drawing, but gifted in every form. She was sassy and kind of a swot.
Blaise Zabini bounced around as much as I did. Zemena had become a black widow of the wizarding community due to a string of deceased husbands. Blaise would watch his mother go from one husband to the next, never staying together more than a few years. He became aware early on to avoid wasting his time with the fleeting father figures. Zemena spent much of her time raising him to be strong, clever, and quick on his feet. Zemena raised Blaise to be a new-age king, and Blaise refused to let her down. He was always poised, calm, and perfect. When I came to visit, it would take hours before Blaise began to relax. He was always excited to share the new things he learned. Blaise learned to like fencing: something about the muggle sport intrigued him. I think he just enjoyed poking people with sharp objects. Blaise talked about the flaw in his mother’s conquests. Pansy loved the arts, but Blaise loved the game. He was ever the strategist, master manipulator. He was becoming observant and a bit of a prick by 7.
Then there was Draco. I wasn’t supposed to have favorites, but from the moment he was in my arms: he was mine. He struggled a bit at first. His health was poor, and his body frail. It took him years to recover. He wasn’t allowed outside until he was 5. Lucius worried about his heir, but Narcissa thought him perfect: I would have agreed if they asked for my opinion. Draco couldn't play with the others: his lungs were too weak to keep up with his body. Draco was often alone inside. As Draco aged, he only wished to please his father. He wanted to be the best at everything. Around the age of 6, Draco became sad and cold. He lost his temperament effortlessly. I would have to be the one to talk him down from a fit, but I didn’t mind taking on the challenge. When Draco was finally let outside, he blossomed. He wanted nothing more than to be on a broom. He excelled at it too. The boy was bright and kind if he was left to be himself. A spoiled prat, nonetheless.
I knew these kids had a long journey of growth in front of them. Regardless, I choose to be the one to guide them. By the age of 8, I had become the babysitter of the pride and joy of the Sacred 28. I attended every practice, worked with them, and sat them down to do their homework. The trio had managed to hate each other: Pansy was too prim, Draco was too mean, and Blaise was too indifferent. It was becoming harder to get them to be in one spot. So I rotated my time between each of them. I was always running around, trying to go from one place to the next. They’d never forgive me if I missed a dance recital, fencing match, or quidditch game. Then came another one, a new addition to our family.
Abraxas Malfoy had miraculously decided to come to the Manor. Big news to Draco and me. Abraxas and Lucius were rarely in the same house: this was an opportunity we couldn’t miss. Draco and I flew around the Manor with our brooms when we got news of his arrival. We raced through the manor, twisting down the halls. I dragged Draco to the front door, Shadow running behind us. We came to a quick halt, Draco hitting my back and bouncing a footstep away. Abraxas had dropped by. He was as I remembered him, his sharp features, kind and tired eyes, and stiff posture. There was something strange- a boy wrapped around his leg.
Draco was not fond of seeing another boy with his Grandfather. Abraxas never paid much attention to Draco. Abraxas spent more time with me than he had with Draco. It must have hurt him to have the affection go to another, especially a stranger. So naturally, Draco pitched a fit. For the first time in Draco’s life: I wasn’t there to console him. I wasn’t there to attend to his whims. I locked eyes with Theodore Nott, bruised and shaking. His curly brown hair was a mess, his green eyes puffy and swollen. One look at the beaten boy, and I knew he was scared.
I tried to listen as Abraxas explained the situation, but my eyes returned to the hiding boy. It took hours of whispers, but eventually, I got Theo comfortable to move from Abraxas to me. Suddenly, in a swift movement, he unlatched himself from Abraxas’ leg and entwined himself with me. He gripped me as if I was a fleeting dream. Theo held me as I showed him around the manor. I learned he would be staying with Abraxas from now on. I was excited to add another to my family. Draco was not.
After Theo and Abraxas left, it took two days until Draco decided to speak to me. It was only to declare that I was not allowed to see Theo. More importantly, I was not allowed to like him more than Draco. It was this fit: that prompted Draco’s first “learning to share” conversation. I added Abraxas’ house into my rotation. It wasn’t long before I became a resident at Abraxas’. They were so busy with family stuff that it was nice not to be needed. It had been a long time since I had a moment to myself where I wasn’t chasing someone around or doing what they wanted. After a few months, Theo had shut down, and Abraxas’ asked me to stay longer to help. Theo refused at first. I sat outside his door every day: reading aloud to the boy, hoping he would come out.
After a month, in the middle of reading Peter Pan, a small voice called, “I don’t want to go back. I can’t go back to him.”
I turned towards the oak door, placing a hand upon it. “Go back to who Theo?”
“My father.” He sniffled from behind the door.
“Theo, we’re your family now. I am your family. I won’t let you go back to him,” I said sternly.
There was a pause as Theo took in my words. He slowly got up and opened the door. I looked at the crying 6-year-old and realized that Theo wasn’t so different from me. He just wanted a family, and I would give him one. As Theo fell into my lap, I decided that I would do whatever it took to protect him.
I would spend every day with Theodore in Abraxas’ library. It started with me reading to the boy and quickly turned into him wanting to discuss each book he read. He would spend hours discussing his favorite characters and the plot. The two of us curled up on opposite ends of the long velvet sofa in the study. Shadow would lay on our feet, occasionally whining for attention, before falling asleep. There were occasional moments in Abraxas’ manor where I didn’t have Theo by my side. For better or for worse, little Theo had become my second shadow.
✧
By the time I was old enough to get my Hogwarts letters, all four showed signs of magic. Horrifyingly so, because the tyrants were a handful beforehand, now they’re uncontrollable. Draco would show his most when he was feeling possessive. When Draco was extra moody and refusing to share, he’d break a few vases. His face immediately went paler as Narcissa’s heels clicked along the floor, heading in his direction. She would kneel to be eye-level with the boy and tell him it was okay. The two would clean up the mess, and Draco would be on his merry way. Pansy showed hers when refused. She’d twist and pull the air around her, the pressure growing more the longer she pouted. Posy’s voice would barrel through the air, telling her to knock it off. Blaise’s magic would act out when he was feeling undermined. He would storm through the halls repelling everything in his path. He would lock eyes on the Zemena. She’d raise her brow, and Blasie would huff, continuing his rampage. Theo was the last one to show signs of magic. It wasn’t as common as the other three. The first time happened when I was flying with Draco, and I fell from my broom. His magic slashed through the Malfoys’ maze. Then again, it was when I got sick, and Abraxas refused to let him see me. Theo put a hole in the wall.
Each of them was excited for me to attend Hogwarts and more so to join me in four short years. They unanimously agreed that I must be a Slytherin since it ran in the family, our hodgepodge group of Slytherins and their heirs. A fair assumption considering Slytherin was all we ever knew. Posy insisted that she and Pansy come with me to Madame Maxine when I got fitted for robes. The two Parkinsons were sure that I needed their expertise. Zemena wanted to take Blaise, Theo, and me to Flourish and Blotts to get my books and other supplies. Narcissa and Draco begged to be the ones to take me to get my wand. How could I tell them no?
The most renowned Pure-Blood families headed to Diagon Alley on my behalf. Narcissa, Posy, and Zemena lead the charge. Their dragon-hide heels click in unison as they strut down the alley, the sound still presents in the loud chatter of the shoppers around us. Diagon Alley is packed to the seams with shoppers, with the addition of anxious families preparing to send their children off to school. It was remarkable to observe my godmothers in their casual wear, be adored and feared by the others. It was a rare circumstance to see them in a crowd this massive.
The three women had ‘unintentionally’ coordinated the group as if they needed more of a reason for us to stick out. I fell a few steps behind to take them in: All three women wore high-rise pleated black trousers with black pointed dragonhide heels. Sleek, simple, and classic. Narcissa wore a silk white tank top, her white hair slightly clipped back. Posy wore a green tee messily tucked into her trousers: her black hair sat at her shoulders. Zemena wore a silver, low-cut top, curls bouncing with each step. Each woman represented their family colors, and so did their children.
Draco wore black slacks and a white tee shirt as he stuck to Narcissa’s side: his black loafers echoed the sound of Narcissa’s heels. Blaise wore almost the same outfit but wore a silverish grey top. He stomped around slightly behind the witches in his chunky black boots. Pansy twirled around in her forest green dress, her bob moving against the summer breeze, as she waved me to catch up. Theo wore grey slacks with a green top. His white sneakers were dirty with debris. I huffed as I realized why they insisted on picking my outfit today. I turned to Gambol and Japes’ joke shop, watching my reflection. I stared at my black pleated skirt, slowly moving towards my grey top with embroidered blackbirds patterning against the silk. I pulled my green and white jacket closer to my chest as I squinted at my reflection. A tug against my jacket drew my attention to Theo, who stared at me with his big green eyes.
“Eris, Blaise said that if I’m not careful, the Giant Squid will eat me,” he said, genuinely concerned, “There is no Giant Squid at Hogwarts, right?”
I looked over Theo and to Blaise, who had propped himself against a light post snickering. When he realized I was watching, he quickly rushed over to Zemena. “Theo, the Giant Squid won’t eat you.” I laughed, moving towards the witches that had decided to rest in the middle of the street.
“But there is a Giant Squid,” the boy yelled as he ran after me slowing down once he caught up to me, “but it doesn’t eat people?”
“No, Theo,” I said, proceeding through the crowd of people. “We aren’t on the menu for normal squids. A giant one is no different..”
He huffed. “That jerk.” Theo broke out in a sprint for Blaise. Blaise wasn’t aware of the charging boy until Pansy stopped twirling about him.
She steadied herself, focusing on Blaise. “I would run if I were you.”
Blaise scoffed at the girl as she returned to her twirling. Theo got dangerously close, Blaise barely slipping from his grip as he broke into a sprint. The two boys moved through the crowd, apologizing to each person they happened to bump in.
After a few laps, Zemena let out a sigh. “Boys, no running!”
The two immediately halted, paused, and then returned to the chase, but this time they walked. Theo and Blasie pumped their stiff arms to go as fast as allowed without breaking into a jog. Draco watched the boys intently, not giving any thought to his surroundings. His grey eyes followed every movement Theo and Blaise made. He was startled at how close I had become to him.
“Draco, go play with them.”
“Those barbarians?” he huffed. “Wouldn’t know what fun is if it hit them square in the jaw.”
I thumped the side of his head with my thumb and forefinger. “Such a delight you are, can’t imagine why you don’t have more friends.”
Draco turned his piercing gaze at me as his father would: Draco was trying to make me recoil. “I have friends.”
Fortunately for me, Draco isn’t Lucius. I let out a snort. “Crabbe and Goyle aren’t friends. They’re pets.”
I watched as the two boys ran in circles when Draco nudged me, his expression softer. “When you go off to Hogwarts, will you still be our best friend? You won’t forget about us, right?”
He wasn’t talking about them.
“Well, she might forget about you, Draco. You’re rather dull, but not me,” A small voice stated as her shoes pattered against the ground. Pansy strolled over to me, bearing her signature snarky smirk.
Draco groaned, staring down at her. “Yeah, right. Pansy, the only thing Eris likes about you is that you’re a girl. Even then, you’re icky.”
Pansy threw her hands on her hips with a groan. “Eris is a girl.”
“Yeah, well, she’s different. Not gross and annoying like you,” Draco snapped, returning his attention to me. He blinked at me a few times, impatiently waiting for his answer.
“Draco, you guys are much better than friends or best friends. I could never forget you,” I said with a smile. He rolled his eyes, but I could see the smile tugging at his lips when I pulled him in for a hug.
As we moved from shop to shop, Pansy had decided to weasel her way between Draco and me. She clung to my side, sticking her tongue out when he glared at her. Narcissa promised ice cream for well-behaved kids: hoping that the boys would settle, and only Theo bought the bribe. Since Theo refused to play with him, Blaise resorted to kicking pebbles to curb his boredom. Draco scrunched his face at the idea his mother would not buy his ice cream. We approached Flourish and Blotts. Before Zemana could open the door, Blaise and Theo had disappeared from the shop.
Zemena let out another sigh. “Take a look around, grab whatever is on the list. Find me if you have any questions.”
Zemena moved quickly through the shop, hoping to catch the two trouble makers before they could stir up anything. I nodded, following behind the witch. The shop smelled of parchment and worn leather: I took the list out of my pocket and carefully made my way. I could see Zemena move through the aisles as Blaise and Theo went the other way. Zemena was in for a long day. When I had all my things, I moved towards the checkout.
A lady peered over the counter, eyeing me and the stack of supplies in my hands. She let out a soft laugh. “First year at Hogwarts?” I nodded, but before I could speak, Zemena stepped behind me. She looked back and forth as if she worried something might happen.
She smiled at me and called, “Add her things to my tab, will you?”
“Of course, Miss Zibini,” She responded, already helping me with my things.
“Theo! Theo!” Her voice rang, causing us to look back at the stressed-out witch, “Theo, please get down. I will get the book for you! Please stop climbing. Blaise put that down. Merlin, help me when I get my hands on you two,” she warned, throwing her hands about as she talked. Zemena stormed over to the boys. Blaise was the only one able to escape her grip. Zemena pulled Theo off the bookshelf, dragging him by his collar as she hunted for Blaise. I could see Theo struggling to get out of her grip as he reached for something.
“Go ahead with the rest of them. I’ll take care of these. Once your Aunt finishes wrangling the boys, I will hand them to her,” the lady said, tilting her head towards the door.
I thanked her and moved back to the door, weaving between bookshelves, grazing my finger across the spines. It was a lovely collection. They had all types of books, from history, fiction, potions, and even magizoology. When a book caught my eye, I stopped. “ Peter Pan” is inscribed in gold lettering on a green leather-bound book. I thought about grabbing it. No, I needed to grab it, but a hand passed me and took it.
I watched, in slow motion, as the pale hand covered in freckles plucked the book from the shelf. I followed the hand as it returned to the rest of its body. There stood a tall red-haired boy. He was covered in freckles, maybe a few years older than me. He turned quickly, moving in the direction I came. Never once did he acknowledge my presence. I frowned. How dare he steal my book. When I finally gained the courage to speak and call after him. He was gone.
That bloody jerk.
I stomped out of the shop towards the long black iron bench Narcissa and Posy sat on. The two witches watched their children bickering until Posy noticed me charging toward them.
Posy let out a chuckle. “What happened to you?”
“Some bloody prat stole a book from me! It would have been fine if he had any etiquette about it.” I huffed, stomping my foot and crossing my arms. Narcissa raised a perfectly sculpted brow at me: I grew flustered under her gaze. I took a deep breath and straightened myself out.
Act like the proper witch you are.
“It’s fine. I am fine. I was just appalled by the lack of manners.”
“Who was it? Tell me what they looked like, and I’ll get the book back. I have no quarrels hexing a child,” Posy said, leaning back on the bench.
When I went to explain, Narcissa and Posy’s faces twisted with disgust. Narcissa tightened her jaw, and Posy hardened her glare. I turned to see where their attention went. Coming from the shop was a large group. A woman tried desperately to herd three young boys while holding a baby to her chest. A boy about my age followed along with his nose in a book. Then two older boys boastfully laughed with their arms around each other. One of them was holding my book in his hands. My face quickly mimicked that of my godmothers.
“Bloody fucking Weasleys,” Posy and Narcissa bit.
We watched as the group moved past us, our glares holding their intensity: only looking away as the bell rang, alerting the door to Flourish and Blotts. Zemena was pushing Blaise and Theo out the door, her frustration visible. Zemena stormed towards the two witches with the boys hot on her heels.
“You know who was in there? Molly fucking Weasley, that’s who,” she snapped, rubbing her temples as she took a seat.
“We know,” Posy and Narcissa said in unison.
“Merlin, that perfect doting mother act is so old,” Zemena snapped. “She acts like we don’t remember what a raging bitch she is. All high and mighty because she’s over the moon for muggles and doing things the hard way.”
“What did she say to you?” Posy snickered at her friend.
Zemena glared at her. “‘Oh wow, it must be so hard raising ONE kid, all by yourself. I can see that being hard for you. I know you like to keep yourself busy. I prefer to spend my time with the little ones.’ I spend plenty of time with Blaise.”
Blaise looked over at his mother. “You spend too much time with me, you bloody bat.”
Zemena gestured to her kid. “SEE!”
Posy snickered. “Don’t worry. She did the ‘whole working mom must be so nice, I prefer to spend time with my family’ pitch the last time I ran into her. Her only personality trait is being a mother, of sorts. She has no idea the effort we put towards our careers and children.”
“At least she didn’t call you ‘Death Eater shits, that deserve to die because we hate muggles,” Narcissa spoke.
Zemena looked over Posy to Narcissa, “Cissa, you were Death Eaters and therefore did hate muggles.”
Narcissa swished her hand. “You and I both know that isn’t Draco or me. Lucius got so sucked into that stupid cult. There was no way out until we were through. After what happened with Reggie, there was no other side for us. I wasn’t going to leave him: I couldn’t. I couldn’t abandon any of them after. Now that he’s dead, we can move on, be free of this.”
“And Lucius,” Posy spoke, already knowing the answer.
“Working through it,” Narcissa whispered, her friends nodding in acceptance. “It is hard to unlearn.”
The three witches looked up at the clear sky. I let a moment pass before asking what was on my mind. “Who are the Weasleys?” The three witches slowly dropped their heads to meet mine, completely forgetting that maybe one of us was listening.
Zemena eyed me. “We have to be more careful now, especially with you. You’ll put things together a lot quicker than the rest.”
“Oh, bug off, she’d be a great gossip partner as she grows. Our little Eris would never betray us,” Posy said, elbowing the witch on her left, Zemena moving as she did so.
“Stay away from the Weasleys, Eris. We don’t mix well with their lot.” Narcissa continued standing up, “Now, who wants ice cream?”
Within minutes, everyone had their ice cream regardless of their behavior: Theo ate mint, Blaise chose chocolate chili, and Draco had banana and chocolate. Pansy would have eaten the chocolate raspberry but dropped it.
Her soft voice rang, “Oh bugger.” Pansy stared at the melting ice cream with a frown plastered on her face.
“Sucks to be you, Pansy. Mrs. Posy just told you to be careful not to drop it.” Blaise poked, knowing that it would get under her skin. Pansy gave a deep huff as she watched it continue to melt.
Draco let out a groan. “Just go ask for another one.”
“She can’t. Her mom told her not to be a clutz. She’d have to admit to them that she dropped her ice cream. Pansy can’t handle that,” Theo said, licking at his ice cream cone with a smirk.
Pansy was between a rock and a hard place. We all knew it. Posy just told her to be careful. To ask for another one would mean that Pansy needed to tell her mother that she broke it. Pansy had been trying to prove that she wasn’t a clutz for weeks. Pansy wanted nothing more than her mother to see her as poise and perfect. The girl was growing frustrated, tears brimming her eyes before I caved. I reached out my vanilla cherry cone in her direction. She eyed it before smiling at me and taking it.
She sniffled. “Thank you, Eris.”
✧
When it was time for me to head to King’s Cross, I insisted they stay home. Leaving them behind was hard enough: it would be best to do it quickly. So naturally, we all went. All eight of us walked through King’s Cross looking for Platform 9 ¾. King’s Cross was quiet. There were only a handful of people walking around. Narcissa and Posy led the way while Zemena stayed behind to keep the children in line. Draco shuffled closely behind his mother, and Pansy held on to hers. The two tried desperately to look uninterested in the muggles around us. Blaise and Theo ran about, pointing at things with eagerness to understand them. I was too nervous to focus on anything other than my thoughts. Then Narcissa stopped walking.
“Alright, little dragon, go ahead. Run right at it, and don’t stop. Okay?” Narcissa said, nodding her head at the bricks in front of her. I gave a slight nod as I took off, running straight for it. In a blink, I had crossed, and any nerves had disappeared. I watched as families crowded platform 9¾. It was loud but not overwhelmingly so. People moved quickly to get where they were going saying quiet pleasantries as they passed.
The train was massive and shiny: and I couldn’t help but be excited. I felt fingers slip between mine. Surprised by the contact, I looked down at Theo. Theo was wide-eyed as he watched the families say their goodbyes. I could see something flash across his green eyes.
“Don’t worry, Theo. You’ll be here in just a few short years,” I said as I squeezed his hand.
He frowned. “Yeah, but I want to go with you.” Before I could get a word in, Blaise wrapped his arms around Theo.
“Yeah, but you get to go with us, and we’re a billion times better,” Blaise expressed, followed by his laugh.
Theo let out a snort. “That’s way worse.”
“What, you don’t want to go to Hogwarts with us?” Pansy said, placing her hands on her hips.
Blaise and Theo turned to look at the girl. “Not with you.”
The two immediately turned back to me, Blaise wide-eyed. “If you see the Giant Squid, you’ll tell me, right?”
“If I see the Giant Squid, I’ll make sure to feed you to it,” I said, sticking my tongue out at him.
“Nice,” Blaise said, grinning at me before looking at his mother.
Zemena had made her way over to me and wrapped her arms around me. “Take him with you. I don’t mind.”
“Take Blaise? I don’t think I could last an hour,” I whispered as Zemena chuckled. Her laughter got lost in the conversations around us. Out of my eye, I could see Pansy’s face contort. She was displeased about something, which wasn’t uncommon for her. It seemed that Posy had caught it too.
“What’s going on in that troublesome head of yours, Pansy,” Posy asked, kneeling to her daughter.
“I think we should all go home. Eris can go to Hogwarts in.” Pansy paused, her brows furrowed. “four years. She can go in four years.”
“Pansy, Eris has to go,” Posy said, grabbing her daughter and pulling her close, “Even if it hurts, we have to let her go.”
Draco had broken his vow of silence and stated, “What if we don’t want her to go?”
Blaise chimed in with a smirk, “I want her to go.”
“Oh Draco,” Narcissa said, sadness consuming her tone as she hugged her son. “We have to let her go. It is time for Eris to fly on her own. You’ll see her soon. Think of all the stories she’ll have to tell when you see her over Christmas.”
All four kids, in unison, looked at me. “Stories?”
“Oh yeah, she’ll have so many stories,” Zemena said, giving me a tight squeeze, “Think of her as a spy. Eris will map out all the cool stuff for you, so when you join her, you’ll know the ins and outs.”
“Like a reconnaissance,” Theo said, turning to Zemena.
“Exactly,” she said, “Plus, she could show you all the magic she learns.”
“Swear it,” Blaise shouted out with excitement. “Eris Rosier swear that you’ll come back. Swear you’ll share stories and magic with us.”
I held my hand over my heart. “I swear it.”
“Swear you won’t forget us. Swear that we’ll always be your favorite,” Draco declared, crossing his arms.
“I swear it.”
The blonde ever so slightly smiled at the words. Before anyone could speak, the train let out a screech. The groups around us started to move frantically. I turned to look at Posy, who was already making her way over. The witch grabbed me, smushing me between her and Zemena.
“That’s our cue to say our goodbyes,” Posy voiced as she squeezed tighter.
Zemena let out a little disappointed sound. “I thought we had more time.” The two witches let me out of their grasp. Theo was the first to say goodbye. A reluctant Blaise followed, Pansy sobbed as she hugged me, and Draco pouted. Sad as it was to see me leave, I know they were excited for me to go. They were too curious about what lays ahead for them to stay somber.
Narcissa held out her hand. “Shall we walk?” I smiled at her as I took my place at her side. The two of us moved through the crowd towards the train. “We will miss you very much, Eris.”
“I’ll miss you guys just as much,” I explained, looking at the witch. Her blonde hair is neatly tied back, her bangs perfectly placed.
“We never thought it would be this hard to let you go. To let our daughter go,” Narcissa softly expressed, “You’ll have fun for us? Make tons of friends. Be the witch we, and your father, know you’ll become. We will be waiting for your return.” The two of us had approached our destination. The crowds were backing away as the train was preparing to take off. Narcissa wrapped me in an earth-shattering kind of hug. She held me tight to her chest: I could feel her breath falter.
When she let me go, she dusted me off. A reassuring smile plastered on her face as she gave me a tiny push towards the train. I slowly moved off the platform and onto the steps. My heels thudding against the floor: I could hear the excited chatter of the students further down the train. I could see the adventure ahead of me so clearly. I was halfway in when I felt something grow within me. A feeling of something left unsaid. I quickly dropped my chest and dashed down and back onto the platform.
I rushed into the witch, embracing her tightly as she held me. “Thank you, Narcissa.”
Just as quickly, I ran back up and grabbed my chest from where I had dropped it. I took on the last look at Narcissa, just in time for the stoic witch to wipe a stray tear from her cheek. I couldn’t stop the smile from growing, nor the excitement. I could do this. I got this.