Tyrone got up from his armchair. “Will do,” he replied, and proceeded to jump up and down several times on top of the suitcase, which finally clicked shut.
“Oh, smashing!” Haley enthused, theatrical as always in her word choice. “Um, literally. I think you broke everything I had in there. But thanks anyway.”
It was the day that the students would embark on their winter holidays, and Haley’s packing strategy appeared to be ‘pack like you’re going to be stuck on a desert island for a year instead visiting your own home for a week.’
Christmas was always an important holiday for the Potter family, and there was always a ridiculous number of friends, neighbors, and intended family members in attendance. Needless to say, Haley herself was particularly fond of Christmas, and she’d spent many a joy-filled hour shopping for just the right presents.
“Merry the-day-before-Christmas-Eve, everyone!” exclaimed Ted, emerging from the boys’ dormitory dressed in a jumper that Molly Weasley had knitted him (the sleeves were about three inches too short, but it was comfortably baggy) and his infamous pair of jingle-bell antlers mounted on a headband.
“Oh, you’re not wearing that stupid headband again, are you?” groaned Emma. “It’s not all that manly, you know?”
Ted plopped down next to her on the sofa. “Yeah, I know. But I like it,” he said, smiling. “I don’t really feel like I need to prove my manliness all the time.”
“Blah,” Emma said intelligently. She looked up. “And while we’re talking about Ted’s manhood, where’s Ivy?”
Ted knew the answer to that one. She was doubtlessly holed up in her dorm, worrying about the time she would spend with the Malfoys the two days after Christmas. Although Ted would have preferred to talk to her himself, he did understand how she felt. There were some things he preferred to keep to himself as well.
He decided perhaps it would be best to simply change subjects. “Where’s Jordan?” he asked.
The sister of both missing parties shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe hanging upside-down like a bat in the owlery. He’s been so weird lately.” It was true”he’d been acting strangely, talking strangely, thinking strangely, and… well, he always looked strange, what with that dead wombat on top of his head that he liked to call hair. Jordan had never been a social person in the least, but lately, he’d become practically reclusive. Haley didn’t know what to make of it, but she assumed it couldn’t be good”she had serious worries that Jordan was working on a sinister plan for world domination or something of the sort.
“Hey, does anyone want a candy cane? I stole some out of the teachers’ lounge.” She reached into the inside pocket of her pockety jacket and pulled out seven or eight of the confections.
“Are you kidding? Of course!” replied Emma, snatching one immediately, then curling up like a cat to begin licking at her candy.
Tyrone took one as well and bit into it, crunching it loudly. Emma flinched.
“How on earth do you have such perfect teeth?” she demanded, picking up a bit of broken candy can that had fallen from the boy’s mouth and flicking it back at his face. “Just listening to you eat that thing is making my teeth hurt!”
Tyrone grinned, displaying said mouthful of perfect teeth, as well as a rather large amount of chewed-up candy cane fragments, and Emma pretended to gag.
“What about you, Tedward?” chirped Haley, hanging two candy canes from the antlers on his headband.
Ted shook his head, causing the bells to jingle and the candy canes to sway gently back and forth. “Can’t, they have too much sugar in them. But I’ll take a few for Ivy and my family.”
“Oh, right, sorry.” It was easy to forget about Ted’s diabetes, as he didn’t mention it often, but Haley always felt extremely sorry for him. In her opinion, one of the great joys of life was random sugar-devouring sprees whenever she felt like it, and to have such a wonderful right snatched away was positively… well, unconstitutional.
They spent the next several minutes working on devouring their candy canes and discussing plans for the winter holidays (most of which involved sleeping in and not doing homework) and all was peaceful and cozy.
And then, Ivy entered the room. Although she appeared silently, there was an imperceptible change in the atmosphere as she did so, and all heads turned to face her, as though she was a raw piece of meat thrown into a piranha tank.
“Candy cane?” Ted offered brightly, pulling one off of his antlers and offering it to her.
Ivy smiled. “I could certainly use one,” she said, her voice sounding small and brittle. She sat down next to Ted, tucking her legs up under her, and leaned her head up against his shoulder.
“Don’t worry about the Malfoys,” Ted assured her quietly. “Well, I can’t say that, you’re the biggest worrier on the face of the planet, and we both know you’re gonna worry… but listen. Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, and you don’t have to leave for Malfoy Manor for three more days. Let’s just make sure the next few days are ridiculously fun, okay? And you know I’ll be there for you the whole time these next three days, so by the time you have to go to Malfoy Manor, you’ll just be glad to get away from me.”
“I just wish I could take you with me,” replied Ivy, smiling up at him.
Emma pretended to vomit into a potted plant.
Haley sneezed loudly as she stumbled out of the fireplace and into Number Seven, Griffin Circle later that day. “Hi, honey! I’m home!” she chirped, dropping her three suitcases onto the ground to give Ted something to trip over, and giving her mother and father each a hug and a kiss.
Behind her, Emma staggered out of the fireplace, followed by Ted (predictably tripping over Haley’s suitcases), Ivy, and, bringing up the rear, Jordan. There was a happy commotion of greetings, hugs, exclamations, and suitcase-tripping from the crowd of friends and family members already waiting at Number Seven for the children to arrive.
The Potter house was always a crowded one at Christmas, but in a cozy way. In attendance, besides the five friends, there were Mr. and Mrs. Potter themselves, as well as little Holly and Jonathan, Ron and Hermione, Remus and Dora Lupin, and Ted’s grown-up siblings Christina and Nathanael.
Then there were Fred and George Weasley, along with Fred’s wife Angelina and three daughters, and George’s wife Eglantine and their children, Edwin and Esmerelda. There were Bill, Fleur, and Marina Weasley from France, and Charlie and his wife from Romania. And then there were Arthur and Molly Weasley, parents or grandparents of the majority of the party and providers of jumpers for all.
And of the battalions of guests, it seemed nearly everyone was talking at once:
“Oh, you’ve got soot all over you! Let me wipe it off for you, dear.”
“Look at you, you’re so tall!”
“Hey, there! I’ve missed you!”
“Happy Christmas, sport!”
“Tell me all about school. How’s it been?”
Emma and Haley were relating in great detail, complete with very large hand gestures, the fascinating tale of how they had pranked the school toilets to a rapt audience of Fred, George, Edwin, and Ron, while Hermione clucked her tongue disapprovingly.
Jordan was describing the events of the years’ first Quidditch match, a glorious victory over Ravenclaw, to his parents, with Emma occasionally breaking off from her toilet-pranking tale to interject a few comments about some of her more heroic actions as Chaser.
Ted’s much older sister, Christina, had stolen his antlers, while his brother, Nathanael, had him in a headlock and was giving him a “Noogie of Death,” parents looking on in amusement. As the baby of the family, Ted had learned to put up with some good-natured teasing, and his easygoing manner caused him to be a good sport about it”although Nathanael no longer dared give his little brother one of his infamous ‘Wedgies of Death.’ As formidable as Nathanael’s green hair and earring made him appear, he was also a good seven inches shorter than Ted, and he was very aware of that fact.
And Ivy greeted Holly and Jonathan, who each demanded that she pick them up first. They split a candy cane and pleaded to hear a ‘Zamboni story.’ (‘Zamboni’ was their mispronunciation of ‘Zabini’, and they were fascinated by the ‘evil’ Potions teacher they had heard so much about.) Neither of the younger set of twins noticed the troubled expression on their idolized big sister’s face.
Ivy, however, was not the only person putting on a false front of happiness. Ron’s face looked thinner, his eyes tired and puffy with heavy bags, and there was suddenly a very noticeable amount of grey visible at his temples. He was used to being famous, but it had never been him in the spotlight before”his name was nearly always mentioned alongside more illustrious ones, usually Harry’s. But now that he’d become infamous, an object of international speculation, he was alone and confused as people learned all they could and debated ‘did he or didn’t he?’ He now knew what it must have been like to be Harry in his fifth year, frightened and indignant and unable to make himself understood.
It did not do for Aurors, especially those as high-ranking as Ron, to feel helpless; it clashed with the job description. But there was nothing that could be done to quell this controversy that surrounded his name, except for possibly killing Bellowes, and that would just further tarnish his reputation.
So Ron chose the ‘manly’ approach to dealing with this problem. He sucked it up and kept quiet, listening to his daughter’s story and laughing and gasping in all the right places. If there was something that could be done about his problem, then he would do it himself, and if nothing could be done, then he wouldn’t do anything. Neither possibility involved telling anyone.
It snowed on Christmas day, and everyone in the house awoke bright and early. They had no choice, actually”sleep was no match for Haley, who raced around the house extricating people from the warm cocoons of their beds with surprising force for such a petite person.
From the outside, things seemed normal in the Potter house. Ivy played Christmas carols on the piano; Fred, George, and Haley set up enchanted mistletoe around the house that tried to follow people around; Ted and his mother attempted to help decorate the Christmas tree and ended up destroying about three boxes of ornaments in the process (Emma, recently of age and practicing as much magic as possible, took great pride in repairing them), and every single guest sported brand new jumpers in every colour of the rainbow.
Everyone was determined to make the holidays as festive as ever, mainly for the benefit of Ivy. Nobody actually knew what exactly had made life with the Malfoys so unpleasant, as Ivy almost never mentioned the Malfoys, but they could guess that Pansy was just as arrogant and bigoted as Professor ‘Zamboni.’
“Awww, you people are awesome!” Emma shouted as soon as she reached the family room. Leaning up against the Christmas tree was a brand-new broom with a red and gold bow tired around it and a tag reading ‘Vortex 97: Merry Christmas, Emma!’ “Wow, I wanted a new broom, but I wasn’t expecting one of these! They just came out on the market yesterday!”
“Don’t thank me,” said her father as she tackled him in a bear hug. “It’s your friends who all chipped in together to get it for you. I’d never get you anything that expensive.” Ron had extremely strange taste in gifts and usually tended to buy his daughter excruciatingly ugly and ill-fitting clothing, but it was the thought that counted.
Haley beamed. “Good thing you like the broom, Em. We put together almost all of our savings. And Tyrone helped a lot, too.” She winked, and, in case nobody caught the wink, said aloud, “Wink-wink.”
“Tyrone?” Ron squinted. “Isn’t that the””
Luckily, however, his daughter was spared embarrassment. Haley had just torn the wrapping paper off of a parcel and shrieked ear-piercingly, “OOH! SHOES!” drowning out absolutely anything Ron may have said.
Many new and exciting presents were received. Jordan had gotten a computer program that he could use to compose and orchestrate music, Ivy had been given a fantastic collection of books that she had never read before (she sat down immediately with one of the books, Pride and Prejudice, and was simply unable to put it down), and Ted… well, for some reason, his favourite present was a beat-up second-hand giant party-sized version of the game Twister, and he insisted upon absolutely everyone playing it with him.
“Mum, Nathanael, you’re both cheating!” he pointed out, his head between his legs. “No fair using your Metamorphmagus skills for this!”
“Um, Jordan, you’re a little close for my comfort,” Emma muttered, whose cousin was in a strange sort of half-collapsed backbend with his body arched over her.
“Well, can I help it if Dad spun right-hand blue?” he growled in response, his arms trembling from supporting him so awkwardly.
“You can’t tickle people, Edwin!”
“Aaagh, I feel like a pretzel!”
“Ow, your antler just poked me in the eye! Is that against the rules?”
“I’m too old for this!”
“Left foot red!’
“NOOOOO!”
Thunk. Crash. Bang. Plop.
“Yay, I win again!” squealed Haley, springing up to her feet and doing a little victory jig around her competitors’ sprawled-out and exhausted forms. “Let’s play one more time!”
Everyone groaned, massaging their muscles.
“I think maybe we should call it quits for now,” Ted suggested kindly. He got to his feet and popped his elbow joint back into place with a slightly sickening sound effect accompanying it. Just then, his eyes lit up like twin fireflies and he ducked behind the Christmas tree, coming away with a small package in his hands.
“I forgot to give out one of my presents,” he explained, sitting down next to Ivy. She was clearly trying to lose herself in her book, judging by the fact that when Ted greeted her, she replied in a dreamy and distant manner and addressed him as ‘Mr. Bingley.’
“Hey,” Ted said, his voice soft. “Um, I know I already gave you your present, but I got you something else, too. It’s kind of small, but… well, just open it.”
The girl set down her book, taking care to tuck a bookmark between the pages before untying the silver ribbon that topped the gift and carefully removing the wrapping paper”she never tore wrapping paper, no matter how long it took her). The day she tore wrapping paper would be the day she would run through the Great Hall stark naked and painted bright purple, singing “Glory, Glory Hallelujah,” and that day was unlikely to come anytime soon.
Under the wrapping paper lay a white box stamped with ‘ETHELMEYER TOYS, LTD,” and she lifted the lid, curious to see what sort of gift could have come from a toy store.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, and burst out laughing. It was a little stuffed wolf, with soft browny-grey fur, wide blue eyes, and the gangly long-legged and big-pawed appearance of an animal making the awkward transition from cub to adult.
“I know it’s gonna be tough spending the next couple days with the Malfoys, so I got you this,” Ted told her, smiling. “It’s to remind you of me while you’re over there. And if you don’t like that idea, then it’s Balto.”
“Thank you,” Ivy said, her expression very strange. It was a sad sort of smile, with equal parts gratitude and discomfort, and she hugged the wolf to her chest as she looked up at Ted. “I have a feeling I’m going to be needing this.”
Ted looked back at her, observing that sad but sweet smile, and how Ivy’s shoulders were shivering. He put his arms around her, passing on his warmth in the hopes that that would stop the shivering, though he knew it wasn’t because of the cold. “Don’t worry. Just hang onto Mini-Me and you’ll be all right.”
Ivy leaned back against him, resting against the crook of his arm. He was skinny and bony, but his was the most comforting presence she could imagine. “You know,” she whispered, “I think I will be.” And she lifted her head and tilted it forward until her lips met with Ted’s. He, needless to say, responded accordingly to the situation.
The two of them had, however, completely forgotten about the fact that they were in fact still in full view of the other ten or so people in the room. There was a bit of an uncomfortable silence for a moment as Ted and Ivy broke apart, but Nathanael Lupin did not seem at all bothered. He wolf-whistled loudly. “Go, Teddy!” he roared.
“Go, Ivy!” replied Haley.
“Go…somewhere else to do that, will you?” Jordan added irritably, wrinkling his nose.
But, as always, little Holly Potter got the last word. “Icky,” she remarked, pulling a face. “Cooties.”
It was strange how familiar yet unfamiliar Malfoy Manor felt as Ivy stood before it the next day. It was just as grand and imposing as ever, the marble façade and columns supporting it just as immaculately white, the gardens just as impeccably and fastidiously trimmed and manicured. The same topiary serpents lined the pathway up to the door, and the same sweeping grounds surrounded the property.
The orchard of plum and pear trees was the same, her old swing still dangling from the branches of one of the trees and swaying invitingly in the breeze. She could see that the family’s four horses were grazing in the paddock out back just as before, and the same ornate wrought-iron gate and fence surrounded the property.
The fence looked pretty, but Ivy knew it was not to be touched”it was enchanted to electrocute gnomes that tried to pass onto the Malfoy property, but it wasn’t choosy about whether its victims were gnomes or not.
It truly was surreal, returning to the Manor after an absence of two years, like listening to a song she had once known by heart and realizing that she had forgotten the words.
Ivy paused to straighten her skirt before beginning the long walk toward the door of the Manor. She looked as timid as she felt, dressed in a grey cardigan and a navy blue skirt. In her hand was a single suitcase, and her hair was yanked back from her pale and pinched face into the tightest braid possible.
Raising her hand to knock on the door was difficult, trembling from head to foot as she was. A strong, irrational fear fluttered inside her stomach”what if when she knocked on the door, Pansy hexed her and slammed it shut? What if this was all a vast mistake? What if the Manor had been bought out and used for something entirely different, like a funeral parlor?
She shook her head. She was being ridiculous. The only way to know what it would really be like at the Malfoys’ was to knock on the door.
But she didn’t have to. Before her knuckles even touched the bronze, snake-shaped doorknocker, the door flew open to reveal a tiny house-elf with massive blue eyes and a nose like a pig snout. “Miss Ivy!” she squealed. “You is come back!”
“Hi, Nibsey,” Ivy replied, smiling nervously. She’d forgotten how fond she had been of all of the house-elves, sad though she found the way they were treated. “Here, I brought some chocolate frogs. Do you still like those?”
Nibsey’s smile stretched from ear to batlike ear. “You is so kind, Miss Ivy! Nibsey is not having chocolate since Miss Ivy is going away! Let Nibsey be taking your suitcase up to your room. You is finding Mistress and Master Malfoy in the sitting room.” And she bowed her head and scampered up the stairs with the suitcase.
Master Malfoy… even after Draco Malfoy had been sent away to Azkaban, the house elves had continue to refer to him as Master Malfoy in respectful memory. Ophidias’s title had always been ‘Young Master.’ But now, he truly was a full-grown man, the head of the household. Master Malfoy… it didn’t fit him. Ophidias was a follower, not a master, whereas Draco evidently liked the title so much that he’d even called himself ‘The Dark Master’ during his brief reign of terror.
Ivy stepped through the door and coughed slightly, her eyes downcast and hands clasped behind her back. “I…I’m here,” she whispered. Her voice sounded strange, as though she had turned back into the eleven-year-old she’d been when she’d last truly considered Malfoy Manor home.
Two good things could be said of Pansy Malfoy’s reception of her. First of all, she didn’t put on a show of false kindness, and second of all, she didn’t stay around for long.
“Ivy, we’ve been expecting you,” she said, climbing off of her chaise lounge to hug the new arrival. The hug was not to be confused with a welcoming gesture. One of the odd things about Pansy was that she constantly touched people, smoothing their hair, rubbing their shoulders, hugging them, but with no real emotion behind her actions. She never even attempted to appear enthusiastic about people she did not want to impress, even as she hugged them incessantly.
“You’re taller than me,” she remarked. This was not exactly an accomplishment, as Pansy was about the same height as Haley and had been shorter than Ivy since the girl’s second year at Hogwarts.
She held Ivy out at arms’ length to examine her. “Hmmm,” she said critically. “It’s a pity you aren’t very pretty. I had hoped you’d grow into your looks, but it’s apparently not to be.”
She squinted. “Not that you’re beyond hope, of course. I’m sure some good makeup can do a great deal, maybe a different hair style... and then there’s those hideous clothes you’re wearing, but that’s easily remedied.”
Ivy was not surprised to hear a word of this”rather, she’d expected it. Appearances were important to the Malfoys, and Pansy had always reminded Ivy of this when she was younger. “Don’t wear that, you’ll be the laughingstock of town.” “Let your hair down, it’s your one nice feature. “You must at least try to make an effort to care for your appearance. You’re never too young to begin thinking about these things, really.” “If you expect to get married one day, you have to make a good first impression.” Pansy herself was no beauty, pug-nosed and square-jawed, but she was always beautifully dressed and coiffed and made the most of her looks, and Ophidias was blessed with strong good looks.
Ivy didn’t know how she could have submissively put up with so much degrading talk every day of her life. She could, in fact, look quite nice when she wanted to, but at Malfoy Manor, her usually rather conservative clothes were replaced with the drabbest and most institutional-looking clothing she owned. It was her quiet way of rebellion, not that anyone else knew that.
“We will go shopping tomorrow,” concluded Pansy. “After all, you’re nearly seventeen. You’ll be needing to find a pureblooded husband before too long.” She patted her on the head in a strangely unaffectionate sort of way. “I’m returning to my room. You may stay or go to yours. One of the elves will bring you dinner when you want it. Good night.” And with those words, she was off.
Ivy sank into the depths of the sofa next to her, letting it envelope her. She felt as though she’d stepped into a time machine and accidentally traveled to a place she didn’t want to be in her life, had outgrown years before. Her cold and nonchalant reception over, she just wanted to go to bed, although it was not yet even time for dinner.
She let her eyes travel over the tastefully colour-coordinated sitting room, with its expensive silver silk curtains, grand piano, chandelier, green and black leather and suede furniture pieces… her eyes darted back to the armchair directly across from her.
She hadn’t even noticed that it was occupied, large enough as it was to swallow up a person. Its black leather upholstery blended in perfectly with Ophidias’ hooded robes, and he was barely visible at all.
Silence.
“You’re back,” Ophidias said at last, looking the girl up and down and studying her face.
“I am,” replied Ivy. Not of my own free will, of course, she added mentally.
Ophidias pulled back his hood and ran his fingers through the pale stubble growing across his scalp. “I think it was stupid for the Ministry to send you back here,” he said in that odd, quiet voice of his. It was such a strange contrast to before, when he had always spoken loudly and dramatically enough to ensure that anyone in the proximity had heard whatever regal Malfoy word he had to say.
“Well, it’s not my fault that I’m here, so please don’t get upset,” Ivy whispered back. “I know you don’t want me here”but I don’t want to be here either. We’re even.” She blinked, surprised at her own bluntness.
Ophidias seemed to agree that this was surprisingly forceful of her, because he blinked dazedly. “I wasn’t saying that I blame you,” he explained. His face contorted with anger. “It’s just, the Ministry must be about the world’s biggest morons if they think it’s a good idea to send you off to spend a weekend with two convicts. Especially when you told the whole Wizengamot that you never want to see us again. Anyone who falls for mother’s whining has got to be about as stupid as they come.”
Two convicts… dark wizards were usually proud to spend a few years in prison to support their cause, but Ophidias didn’t seem very proud. In fact, he looked as moody and shrunken as he had in the Prefects’ carriage on the first day of school.
“Are you all right?” Ivy asked, peering closely at him.
Ophidias let out a humourless laugh. “If I wasn’t, do you think I’d tell you?”
He had a point. It wasn’t like he’d be the prime audience for any of her worries or concerns, after all.
They sat in silence, just staring at one another and trying to become re-accustomed to one another’s presence. The last time they’d had a face-to-face conversation, it was the beginning of fourth year, and Ophidias was taunting Ivy’s friends with threats of how their lives would change now that his father had escaped from Azkaban.
Now it was over two years later, Malfoy was unconscious and unresponsive in St. Mungo’s, Ophidias had spend a year in prison, and Ivy had been adopted by the Potters and was largely responsible for Malfoy’s defeat. So much had changed.
Ivy cleared her throat again, a nervous habit that she was sure she’d be performing rather frequently these next few days. “Erm, I’m off to my room,” she said, getting to her feet and making her way toward the spiral staircase. She was glad to find an excuse to escape from Ophidias. He wasn’t as overtly offensive as Pansy, but something about his demeanor made Ivy feel bizarrely uncomfortable all over.
Her old room had not changed at all since she’d last seen it so long before, but she’d forgotten how completely it didn’t suit her. It was a lovely and richly furnished room, but it looked more like a hotel suite or something out of a museum than an actual living space for a teenager. Absolutely everything was immaculately clean and spotless, from the pale pink walls to the thick pile of pure white carpet. Gauzy silk curtains framed the windows, a cherry-wood writing desk and chair sat in the corner, and a matching armoire topped with a magnificent Grecian bust stood in the centre of the room. An intricately carved cherry-wood canopy bed piled with pink satin sheets and pillows was pushed against the wall, and the opposite wall held fine oil paintings and a full-length mirror.
She tiptoed gingerly toward the bed, taking care not to smudge the carpet, and sat down. Her room at home with the Potters was smaller”after all, it had been the guest room before she’d moved in”but it was definitely hers. She’d painted the walls there a soft pastel blue, and bookcases bristled with her favourite volumes. The floor was bare dark wood save for a small and rather badly-made rug she’d woven herself, and her comforter was blue and white checked. Most notably, though, the walls were absolutely covered in photos of her friends and family, pictures of animals, and posters of her favourite singers.
But if she’d been able to make herself at home in her room at, well, home, then it should be no trouble here, even if she’d only be staying a few days. She pulled out several small framed wizard photos and arranged them lovingly atop the armoire.
There was a small reproduction of Arden DuBois’s sketch of the ‘Five Plus Five;’ a truly adorable picture of Ted’s twelfth birthday party the summer after first year; Haley in a spangly leotard, tights, tap shoes, and a top hat from a performing arts camp she’d been to; Emma, Jordan, and Tyrone, all decked out in flying gear and wearing giddy expressions after winning the Quidditch cup the previous year; Ted pulling a goofy face at the camera; the entire Potter clan; the Gryffindors dressed up for the Yule Ball; herself and Ted together in both human and animal forms.
These were copies of the same photos in her dormitory at school and her bedroom at home, and they brought a touch of normalcy to her strange surroundings. As a finishing touch, she pulled the stuffed wolf she’d received for Christmas out of her suitcase and set it atop her pillow.
“Some people have teddy bears,” she thought to herself, “so this is my Teddy wolf.”
She was extremely glad that there were no Legilimenses around, because she’d just made an extremely pathetic pun.
For the remainder of the day, she stayed in her room and read Pride and Prejudice. Two house elves brought her dinner to her room on a tray, a sumptuous meal that she barely ate, and they stayed for a brief, pleasant chat.
Maybe if she didn’t spend it with the Malfoys themselves, her stay at Malfoy Manor wouldn’t be quite so bad.
Breakfast with the Malfoys was a silent affair, and although the food was excellent, the crystal and silverware were beautiful, and the dining room was tastefully decorated to say the least, it was nothing compared to a noisy and raucous meal with the Potters.
Ivy thought wistfully of meals where it was typical to see Uncle Ron transfiguring a plate of bacon into bees, Emma talking loudly while eating, Holly and Jonathan throwing scrambled eggs at one another, Ted mixing together everything on his plate while Jordan picked apart every separate ingredient of his, and Haley covering absolutely all of her food with whipped cream. She missed her friends, strange food-related quirks and all.
Breakfast seemed to last an eternity with nobody talking, not even asking one another to pass various dishes”the house elves did it without even being asked. The only spoken word at all was Pansy announcing, “We are going shopping in Diagon Alley today after breakfast for both of you, so you will want to get ready.” She dabbed daintily at the corners of her mouth with a handkerchief. “Ivy, you’re in particular need of new clothing, so feel free to pick, out anything you’d like to buy.”
Ivy grimaced as she finished her omelet. She did enjoy shopping”who could honestly say they didn’t with such incredible shops as they had in Diagon Alley”but she could tell that this was not going to be anything like her usual shopping excursions.
She’d shopped with Pansy for most of her life, hearing a constant stream of, “Well, that doesn’t flatter you at all. You look absolutely ill.” “For Salazar’s sake, at least try to be somewhat fashionable. That looks like something my grandmother would pick out.” “You have horrid taste, really. We’re buying this”you’ll thank me later.”
This particular shopping trip was no different. Pansy had not been speaking literally when she said ‘feel free to pick out anything you’d like to buy.’ What she’d really meant was, ‘feel free to pick out anything fashionable that I like.’
Ivy did not care for clingy and low-cut robes, and she detested ruffles. She also was not especially fond of the colour pink, but that didn’t seem to matter to Pansy as she pawed through the designer rack at Twilfitt and Tatting’s.
“Aha, here’s your size.” She set aside a set of virulently pink, sparkly robes made of a thin and stretchy material that looked dangerously insubstantial. They would be excellent for Haley, but Ivy knew she’d only look ridiculous in them.
Pansy continued to chatter as she searched for similar robes, saying as she went, “Of course, it’s difficult to find truly excellent designer robes these days, because the latest fashion, if you can believe it, is Muggle dresses. But I’m not letting any filthy Muggle clothes into my house, even if they are wizard-made. It’s ridiculous. What self-respecting witch with enough money to go designer would”put those robes back, we’re not buying off the clearance rack”be deluded enough to wear Muggle clothes?”
She snorted. “And besides, you’d look better in full-length robes with those knobby knees and elbows of yours. Clearly from your father’s side of the family, though they suited him far better. Here, go to the dressing room and try these on.” She held out a stack of robes in various bright colours and flimsy fabrics.
Ivy shook her head. There was no way she could bring herself to wear such humiliating and flamboyant clothing. “I don’t think those are my style,” she said quietly. “And I don’t need designer robes”really.”
Pansy, touchy-feely as always, took her arms. “You don’t understand, do you?” she sighed. “You have to take better care of your looks. It’s your duty as a pureblood. We’re a dying race”the blood-traitor Weasleys, the Patils, even Theodore Nott all intermarried with Mudbloods. Blaise Zabini and Gregory Goyle never did get married, and knowing them, they probably never will. There are so few options left for you, and you need to find a pureblooded husband in just a few years. I know you’re shy, and I’m sure it’s difficult for you to talk to boys, but you simply have to. Let’s face it, you will need to dress better if you ever want boys to notice you.”
This was such a ridiculous statement that Ivy could not hold back a laugh. “Actually, I’m not, er, worried about finding a boyfriend,” she replied, flipping open the small silver locket she wore to reveal a picture of Ted’s smiling face and showing it to Mrs. Malfoy.
She peered at the image. “Who is that?”
Ivy was suddenly struck once more by how little Pansy knew about her. It was bizarre. “That’s Ted,” she explained. “He’s…” She tried to think of the right words to accurately describe him. “He’s basically my best friend, my boyfriend…” My anchor to sanity, she added mentally.
“Well, he’s not very good-looking, is he? Who are his parents? He looks like some sort of drug addict or something.”
Ivy couldn’t believe it. What could possibly make her think that it was okay to say something like that? “He is not a… a drug addict!” she protested, completely shocked by how ludicrous this all was. The idea of Ted being a drug addict was the most ridiculous thing she’d heard all week, and she’d heard Haley’s Bing Crosby impersonation. “He doesn’t look well because he’s a werewolf. It’s hard on him.”
This statement was met with rather dramatic reactions to say the least. Pansy dropped the stack of clothes she was carrying, and Ophidias’s head whipped around to face her. It was absolutely silent, and the silence seemed to strangle her as she looked back at the gaping Malfoys.
At last, Pansy spoke. “A… a werewolf?” Her voice shook in a disgustingly melodramatic way. If she weren’t a real person, Ivy would have thought she was playing her role most unconvincingly. “How dare you betray your pureblood status by spending time with a creature like that?”
Ivy, soft spoken and rather shy by nature, was not normally one to argue, but when someone was so offensive and unkind that action was required, she had no qualms about taking it. “You want me to spend time him?” she said in a deceptively tiny voice. “Just because your husband sent out one of the werewolves who worked for him to attack someone in my family, and Ted got bitten protecting my sister?”
It was clear that Pansy had not expected her to display such confidence. She looked very taken aback and stumbled over her words as she retorted, “And I suppose you think this little werewolf of yours actually cares about you? Only a dependent little thing like you could ever be hoodwinked like that. They might look human most of the time, but anyone with any sense at all knows that even when it’s not a full moon, they’re nothing but blood-thirsty, cold-blooded, part-human monsters. Whatever he was before the… accident… is irrelevant.”
This was going too far. Pansy had crossed the line between ignorance and cruelty, and there was no excuse for such talk. “You don’t even know him,” Ivy said, still in a voice so quiet that Pansy had to strain to hear it. “I’ve known Ted long enough to know that he’s… he’s completely real. In every way. He’d never try to fool anyone into thinking he cared about them, not that you’d understa--”
She covered her mouth, astonished. What had just happened? Had she really said that? Had she really accused Pansy Malfoy of being a fake, cold-blooded monster who only pretended to care for her?
Evidently, she had, because Ophidias’s skin was paler than the snow lying on the ground outside. And Pansy’s expression had surpassed shock and escalated into a distorted mask of fury.
“Do not,” she hissed, her face red with anger, “disrespect your elders that way. Ivy Cassiopeia Malfoy, this is unacceptable. If I have to put you back in your place right here, you know I will.”
Ivy did. She knew all too well. Her memory involuntarily jolted her back to another day so many years before, a day she’d tried so hard to forget…
The nine-year-old girl was late for breakfast. She trailed in long after her mother and brother were already seated, a book in hand her long blonde braid looped over her shoulder.
“Ivy Cassiopeia Malfoy,” admonished Pansy, “The table is set and the food is getting cold. Did you or did you not hear the house-elves ringing the bell?”
Ivy took a seat at the table next to her eleven-year-brother, who smirked at her as she did so. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I was reading.”
Pansy sniffed, and a house-elf came to the table to serve the family.
They ate in silence, Ivy picking at her food and pushing it around her plate with her fork. At last, she took a deep breath and said, “Erm, mother, I have a question.”
All heads turned toward her. The Malfoys did not, as a rule, normally speak during meals… or almost anytime, really. Ivy’s eyes fixed on the flickering flame of the candle in front of her; she really couldn’t bring herself to look her mother in the eye. She had enough of Pansy’s appraising stares as it was.
“Well, I was reading, and…” she hesitated. “You know how you always say Daddy went away to the North Sea… is it true that he’s in prison? Because that’s what it says in my book.”
Ophidias’s grey eyes widened until they resembled silver Sickles. “What?”
“It says that… he blasted St. Mungo’s hospital apart, and…” she choked on her words, “hundreds of people died.”
Ophidias laughed. “That’s not true, is it, mother?”
Pansy took a slow sip of wine and her sweet time before responding, but when she did, she was completely composed and collected. “Yes,” she said curtly. “Your father is imprisoned in Azkaban. It was an accident. He was only trying to take revenge on Ronald Weasley.”
The little girl squinted. “But he shouldn’t have tried to kill anyone!” she exclaimed, really getting upset now. “It’s bad! And isn’t Ronald Weasley an Auror? If he works for the Ministry of Magic, then isn’t he good?”
“Ronald Weasley killed your Grandfather Malfoy, and your father wanted to avenge his death,” Pansy replied simply. Ophidias was still wearing a face very similar to that of someone who had just been informed that he was in fact a chimpanzee raised by humans.
“Why were they fighting against each other in the war, though?”
Pansy’s expression darkened. “The Weasleys and the others from the Order of the Phoenix ,” she said, spitting out the name of the organization like a mouthful of dirt, “hated the Dark Lord and loved Muggles. They were all”and still are all”pathetic Mudbloods and blood traitors.”
Ivy had heard the phrase ‘blood traitor’ countless times, but she’d never known what it meant. It sounded horrible, and she’d always unquestioningly thought of anyone her mother had labeled as one as a ‘bad guy,’ but now she wasn’t so sure anymore. If being a blood traitor simply meant being kind to Muggles, who were really just people who for some strange music couldn’t do magic, then she didn’t see what was so bad about them. In fact, maybe a blood traitor was something she wanted to be.
“What’s wrong with Muggles anyway?” she asked.
Pansy laughed harshly. “What’s wrong with Muggles? Dear, they’re pathetic. They can’t even do magic.”
Ivy shrugged. “So? We can’t use electricity. They’d probably think we’re pathetic, too. I mean, I was reading an article, and it said there’s a lot more Muggles than wizards. Trying to get rid of them would be like getting rid of everyone who doesn’t have red hair. It would just be stupid to try at all.”
The room was deathly quiet. Pansy got to her feet, clutching her wand. “What did you say?” she demanded.
“Mother, don’t pay attention to her. She’s always crazy,” Ophidias said. Ivy blinked. Although he was insulting her as always, he was also defending her in a round-about sort of way. She wasn’t used to people sticking up for her, especially not her brother.
“I will not allow that kind of talk in my household!” Pansy shrieked. She pointed her wand at her daughter. “Do you want me to teach you a lesson?”
“Mother,” said Ivy quietly, “I don’t want to be rude, really. But I think you’ve got it wrong. I--”
Pansy’s eyes were wild. “CRUCIO!” she screeched.
Ivy was knocked backward onto the ground and white-hot pain tore through her body. It was like knives were piercing every square inch of her skin, and every bone in her body was splintering ruthlessly. Her eyes seared as if on fire, and she screamed and sobbed almost inhumanly, her howls of agony carrying to every corner of the manor. She could not breathe or feel anything but the mind-numbing pain, and the only thought that crossed her mind was, “All I want is for this to end… I don’t care how… just let it end.”
Suddenly, after what seemed like an eternity, it was over. She twitched. Was she dead? She slowly opened her eyelids, each feeling as though it weighed a ton, and she realized that she was definitely still alive. If she was dead, she wouldn’t be able to feel like there were several cantankerous elephants on her face.
The back of her head ached dully, she was jittery and sweaty from the torture, and her robes were twisted around her body. She stared up into her mother’s eyes in disbelief and terror.
Pansy was breathing heavily, her expression horribly resolute but with a flicker of fright just visible in her eyes.
“Please,” whimpered Ivy, her voice weak and broken from screaming, “please, please don’t ever do that again. Please. I promise I’ll never, ever say anything like what I did from now on. Please.”
And she was true to her word. After that day, Ivy Malfoy never again stood up to her mother and brother. Fearing another round of the Cruciatus curse, she grew shyer and shyer until she never spoke at all, frightened that she might slip and say the wrong thing.
She was subservient and quiet, following all orders she was given without question, a far cry from the curious and outspoken little girl she’d been before.
But although she was Pansy’s perfect porcelain doll on the outside, inside she was seething and bubbling like a pot about to boil over, thriving on her secret rebellious thoughts and counting the days until she could leave for Hogwarts.
After that fateful day, Ivy Malfoy could never again speak up for her own beliefs… but Ivy Potter could.