“I still can’t believe you have to do this,” Ted said softly, helping Ivy pack her things. He picked up a little stuffed wolf from her bedside table. “Oh, don’t forget Mini-Me!” he added, tossing the toy in the air and completely failing to catch it with his other hand.
Ivy smiled. “Oh yeah, I can’t forget about him.” She folded a blouse and placed it neatly in her suitcase. “I hope Jordan doesn’t decide he’s too old to go Easter Egg hunting this year. I mean, he’s said he was too old for the past five years, but he always ends up joining in anyway. But now that he’s of age and… everything…” She uttered the word ‘everything’ slightly more significantly than she meant to. ‘Everything’ that came with Jordan being of age certainly did complicate things.
“Speaking of being of age, your birthday’s two days after Easter, isn’t it?” Ted asked, and Ivy nodded. “Man, it’s really going to be weird when everyone’s of age except me. I hate being the baby.” He pouted, doing an uncanny impression of Haley.
“Save the best for last!” said Ivy, smiling brightly. She carefully lay three books, including her well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice, on top of her clothes and shut her suitcase with a click. “That’s that, I guess… and then I’m leaving for Malfoy Manor in an hour.”
Ted sat down next to her, bouncing a little on the bed. “Are you nervous?” he asked.
Ivy opened her mouth to speak, then paused reflectively for a moment, staring off into space. Then at last, she said in a small but strong voice, “No.” She looked almost surprised at her own answer. “I’m not nervous,” she repeated. “I don’t know why… maybe because I already stayed with the Malfoys over Christmas holiday and I know what it’s like, so I don’t have anything to worry about. Plus, I know Ophidias is on my side now, so I won’t be as lonely as last time.”
It really was nice when Ivy wasn’t nervous and worried all the time, Ted thought, smiling. He played absentmindedly with Ivy’s long braid like a cat batting around a curtain cord as the two of them sat in comfortable silence for a moment.
Then, Ivy asked quietly, “Remember when I was at the Malfoys’ back in December, you went and tried to visit me, and mo… Mrs. Malfoy wouldn’t let you in. What did she say to you?”
Ted smiled faintly. “Eh, nothing much. She said I don’t deserve you and you only hang out with me because you’re just relieved that anyone wants anything to do with you, and that I’m an inhuman freak of nature. Nothing I haven’t heard before.” He shrugged. “I might be wrong, but something tells me that she’s not too keen on me.”
“That’s horrible!” gasped Ivy, “I know there are people who think that kind of thing, but who actually says it to people’s faces? Especially to kids?”
Ted squeezed her hand. “Ivy, that stuff doesn’t bother me. I mean, sure, it makes me sad that some people are so prejudiced, but it doesn’t really hurt me. I know who I am. You can put me in a room with a guy who calls me a purple unicorn everyday, and I still won’t get it into my head that I’m a purple unicorn, because that’s obviously not true.”
It was interesting, thought Ivy, how you could know someone for years and realize new, different things about them all the time. For example, she must have seen Ted smile thousands of times by now, but she’d never before realized that his canine teeth were subtly more pointed than most people’s. They were another unique thing about him, like the fact that when he smiled, only his left cheek dimpled, and that he could lick his nose.
“So, what did she say about me behind my back, then?” he asked curiously, giving her another one of those pointy-toothed, single-dimpled smile.
“All kinds of things,” Ivy replied sadly, “and none of them too nice.” She paused and added, “She thinks you look like a drug addict.”
Ted exploded in laughter. With a slightly sickening thump, he fell backward off the bed and lay on his back on the ground, cracking up hysterically. “Oh, yeah,” he managed to choke, “Yes, I am, er, very hardcore. Yes.”
“Are you all right?” laughed Ivy, peering down at him.
Ted crawled back onto the bed, wiping tears from his eyes. “Sorry,” he wheezed, “but I just wasn’t expecting that! A drug addict? Even I know I’m the biggest goody-goody in the school!” He flopped down on his back on the bed. “When you go back to visit, make sure you bring up that I can’t function without taking at least two kinds of drugs a day.” He paused. “Just don’t mention that they’re Wolfsbane and insulin potion.”
This time around, Pansy Malfoy did not even bother feigning pleasure at Ivy’s arrival at Malfoy Manor. Instead, she simply looked Ivy up and down, clucking her tongue at her plain blouse and skirt, and said, “I understand you’re nearly of age. I do hope you’re ready to enter the magical world as an adult. Have you been practicing your piano?”
“I practice every day,” Ivy replied, used to the way Pansy often juxtaposed strange and unrelated statements. “Everyone in my family is musical.” Her voice was mild, but her tone still made it clear that she was not intimidated by Mrs. Malfoy. It was interesting how similar the colour of Mrs. Malfoy’s complexion was to that of raspberry vanilla ice cream.’ Apparently, she hadn’t expected Ivy to stand up for herself this early in the visit.
“And I hope I’m ready for the magical world, too,” Ivy continued calmly, sitting down at the piano and starting to play ‘Eine Kleine Nachmusik’ by ear. “I’m trying to get an internship in the Department of Experimental Charms with the Ministry after I graduate.”
Mrs. Malfoy looked scandalized in a very affected, old-fashioned sort of way. She was good at being affected and old-fashioned. “Working? Surely you don’t need to work? You will, after all, have quite a lot of money from the Malfoy future once you come of age, and I understand the Potter fortune is not exactly small, either. Why work like a common drudge, alongside Merlin-knows-what when you can get married and leave the working to your husband?”
Ivy didn’t respond, but she reflected as she played that Pansy was just like someone straight out of Pride and Prejudice. And Pride and Prejudice was her favourite book, but Pansy was certainly not among her favourite characters. It was the twenty-first century. Hadn’t Pansy ever heard of women’s lib?
“What exactly are you playing?” inquired Mrs. Malfoy as Ivy’s piano music filled the space of what would otherwise be a long and awkward silence.
“Eine Kleine Nachtmusik,” said Ivy, “One of my favourite pieces. It’s by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.”
Mrs. Malfoy almost choked on the glass of wine that she was sipping. “What, you’re playing a piece by a Muggle? A nobody?”
“He was a genius,” Ivy replied quietly. “And he can’t have been a nobody if you already knew he was a Muggle when I said his name.”
“Well, I won’t have Muggle music played in my house,” she insisted. “There is perfectly good wizarding music available, and I see no reason why you must encourage the Muggle music…er… industry.” She patted her dark bob back into place.
“Dinner will be served in two hours in the dining room. Be sure to put on some suitable dress robes. In the meantime, feel free to have the manor to yourself.”
“That’s very kind of you,” replied Ivy, though she was thinking something more like ‘that’s very ostentatious of you.’ Did anyone actually refer to their manor as a manor unless they were trying to be assassinated?
She watched the woman who had been her mother walk up the grand staircase to her room. Ivy had always felt rather guilty about not loving her, but try as she might, she had never been able to. Ivy was a loving person by nature, and it hadn’t taken her long to love the Potters”even before she had been adopted, she had loved Mr. and Mrs. Potter like her parents, and she loved Holly and Jonathan and Haley and even Jordan like brothers and sisters. She was growing to love Ophidias, and part of her still loved Draco Malfoy.
But she had never been able to feel any sort of familial affection toward Pansy. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she and Ophidias were by large raised by governesses and servants with the occasional exciting guest appearances by their real parents. But maybe, it was just because she had always known that the feeling was mutual.
Ivy had planned to retreat to her room as well, as she had on her Christmas holiday visit, but the weather was too beautiful to stay inside for long.
The sky was a clear and cloudless blue, extremely rare for England, and it was sunny and warm outside. The grounds of the manor, always inviting, were positively irresistible in such weather, and Ivy decided she’d have to be crazy not to take a book outside and sit in the sun.
She took her copy of Little Women from inside her suitcase and stepped outside and onto the wide expanse of the Malfoy lawn.
It really was a wonderfully kept place. Ivy felt certain that this was probably because slews of house elves had tended to the landscaping even during the Malfoys’ stay in prison.
She strolled through the orchard, which probably due to magic, always seemed to be full of fruit. Birds twittered and blossoms from the trees drifted through the air on lazy breezes, and Ivy settled down on the rickety old swing dangling from a pear tree, feeling as completely removed from the outside world as the Malfoys had always liked to be.
She couldn’t help but wonder why the Malfoys lived in such a wonderful place. It didn’t feel right to love being here as much as she did. All alone, she felt like Mary Lennox in the secret garden from the book of the same name--living in a house where the company was austere at best, but the gardens were her personal haven.
She opened her copy of Little Women and began to read, pumping at the swing to carry her into the air. How long she stayed on the swing, she couldn’t say, but she completely lost herself in her book, completely forgot where she was or what was going on, or indeed that she was not one of the March sisters.
As she pumped higher and higher, her braid flew out behind her and flower petals settled in it. She kicked off her shoes and socks and wiggled her toes in the warm air and began to hum quietly under her breath. As she swung back and forth, the humming morphed into full-out song, the rhythm matching the creaking of the swing perfectly. Ivy remembered how she had used to sing on the swing when she was small, her fath… Malfoy pushing her and singing along… well, singing and swinging went hand-in-hand, and she let the song flow freely.
It was a song from a musical that Haley was particularly fond of, a quiet, lilting tune. As a general rule, she didn’t sing, especially out of doors”Haley and Jordan both had beautiful voices, and Ivy wasn’t very good, particularly when compared to them”but no one was around to see her and she was totally free to sing what she wanted.
A pear from the tree above her dropped on Ivy’s head and she stopped abruptly. Fruit falling from trees was nothing unusual”it happened all the time. What was unusual, though, was that this pear had been eaten down to the core.
Ivy’s head snapped back, and when she looked up into the tree, she nearly fell off of her swing. Ophidias was sitting nestled in the crook of two branches, so well-camouflaged by leaves that she hadn’t seen him at all. Ivy blushed even pinker than any article of clothing owned by Haley. She couldn’t believe he’d heard her singing like a stupid little girl.
Ophidias seemed to realize that he’d upset her and jumped down from the tree. “Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was sitting up here, and you came, and I thought you knew I here. I should have wondered why you were so… carefree.”
He was very good at blending into the background, Ivy had noticed, almost uncannily so. It was the second time he’d surprised her like this in as many visits to the Malfoys.
Ophidias gave her a fleeting half-smile. “You used to always sing on that swing when you were little. With…”
“With your dad,” Ivy finished quickly. “And one time he let you push me and you accidentally pushed too hard, and I fell off.”
Ophidias raised his eyebrows. “That wasn’t an accident,” he said, almost mischievously.
“Somehow, I’m not surprised,” Ivy said, smiling a little herself. Thinking back to when she was four years old, she would be surprised if Ophidias hadn’t wanted to push her off the swing. A little girl in a white frilly frock with a pink sash, shiny patent-leather shoes, and a massive pink bow in her hair, warbling off-key to herself on a swing above a muddy puddle was an irresistible target for a six-year-old boy. “We used to ride our horses together, too,” she said reminiscently.
“Oh, wow, I haven’t done that in ages,” Ophidias sighed, shaking his head.
Ivy paused. “Do you want to right now?” she asked.
“What?”
She shrugged. “Well, this is the last time I’m ever going to be here, and since you’re graduating at the end of this year, you probably won’t be here much longer, either. I don’t see why not.”
“Well… I just haven’t been in the mood to do something like that,” Ophidias muttered. Ivy looked at him, his hunched shoulders, his tired eyes, his hollowed expression. He was depressed”understandable after spending a year in Azkaban and then getting thrust back into society and having to face all of his peers again. It was painful to see him like this.
“I’m not saying it’s your fault, but you can’t get out of that mood until you let yourself,” said Ivy, her voice soft. She brushed her fringe out of her eyes. “Please? Will you go horseback riding with me?”
Ophidias exhaled, silent for a moment. “You’re so annoying,” he said, and paused. “But I like you a lot better than I ever did before. You know what? Yeah. Yeah, I’ll go horseback riding, but only for a bit.”
“A bit is good enough for me,” said Ivy, smiling brightly. She tucked her book inside her purse and headed off for the paddock and stables behind the orchard. Her own horse, Galatea, was grazing at the fence, pure white all over and just as beautiful as she remembered. Galatea flapped her wings gently”yes, of course she was a flying horse, this was the Malfoy family, after all”and snorted, sensing the presence of her owner.
“Hi, girl,” whispered Ivy, holding out an apple from one of the trees in the orchard as a gift. “Remember me? I know, I’ve been gone a long time. I’ve missed you.” The horse crunched up the apple in two bites and nuzzled the Ivy’s head fondly.
“That’s right, it’s me,” she cooed, opening the gate and stepping inside the paddock. She took Galatea’s saddle and bridle down off of a peg and quickly fastened them on. “Have the house elves taken good care of you while I was gone?” Ivy whispered as she climbed onto the horse and slipped her feet into the stirrups. “Yes, that’s a girl. What a good girl.”
She looked over at Ophidias, who had already mounted his grey horse, Mercury, and was sitting up tall in the saddle. In those black hooded robes that he always wore, he looked like some sort of crusader or phantom messenger or something.
Ivy felt tall and powerful sitting up on her horse, and there was something comforting about the gentle swaying motion of Galatea walking slowly around the paddock. And then, without warning, Galatea flapped her powerful wings and Ivy felt the tug in her stomach that could mean only one thing.
The horse soared up into the air, treading on nothing. Ivy cheered and gripped the reigns tightly as a cool breeze blew her hair. Laughing as she plunged through the air, she glanced over at Ophidias. His face was relaxed, no longer stony and stiff, and there was a flicker of life once more behind his eyes.
Ivy flew over Ophidias’s head, laughing. She had never really been a fan of Quidditch”in fact, she barely understood the game, but she knew so many people who were absolute nuts about flying on broomsticks. She wasn’t good at balancing on a piece of flying wood, and in any case, she found it unsettling at best, but she was a talented horsewoman, and riding Galatea made her realize what Jordan and Emma and Tyrone’s mania for flying was all about.
She made a mental note to someday do this with Ted. Ivy liked animals and was reasonably good with them, but Ted was like Snow White when it came to getting along with any kind of creature. Riding a flying horse would probably be the most thrilling event of his life.
“I forget how much fun this was!” she cried.
“Yeah,” replied Ophidias, pulling up next to her in midair. “So did I.”
They had left the paddock and were flying over the manor. They didn’t need to worry about being spotted by Muggles because there were none here in the neighborhood; if there were, Pansy would have insisted the family move years ago. But even if there were Muggles in the area, magical creatures tended to have highly unique protective charms cast on them. Any Muggles who happened to catch sight of Ivy and Ophidias would only see two young hang gliders”unusual, but hardly magical.
“You know,” remarked Ivy, “I feel sorry for my sister, Haley. She really likes horses, especially winged ones”Care of Magical Creatures is one of her favourite classes”but she can’t ride. She’s terrified of heights.”
“Haley…” Ophidias squinted. “Is she the kind of shrimpy one with the black hair who started singing that song in the Great Hall?” Ivy nodded affirmatively. “Ah. It’s a good thing she’s so short then, or she’d always be scared.”
Ivy laughed. She’d never thought of it that way before. And that would be an excellent point to make the next time Haley was griping about being so tiny. It was funny to imagine if, say, Ted was afraid of heights. He’d have to crawl everywhere.
“Oh yeah, Haley Potter,” continued Ophidas, rolling his eyes. “Charybdis Nott just loves her.”
Ivy had rarely ever heard a voice so positively laced with sarcasm, and that was considering that she spent considerable time with Jordan and Emma. “I can’t say Haley’s especially fond of Charybdis, either,” she replied, then paused a moment, steering her horse higher into the air. “Is it really true that she was Muggle-raised?”
“Mostly. From the time she was little, anyway. There was this family, the Mariolinis, I think, who took care of her, but she never really talked about them. She hates them.” He sighed. “When she was new to Hogwarts, I felt sorry for her because she’d had to grow up with Muggles and she didn’t have a clue about magic, even though her dad was from one of the old pureblood families. So I decided to give her a hand. You know what that means.” Ophidias made a face.
Ivy knew exactly what he meant. He meant that he’d explained to her what it meant to be from an old family and how superior she was to the majority of the school, and far superior to the Mariolinis. It was easy for kids, especially young ones, to believe things like that, especially since Charybdis didn’t seem to like her guardians very much already.
Ivy couldn’t help but notice that Charybdis’s story sounded remarkably similar to her own adopted father’s, and she had to wonder what would have happened had he ended up in Slytherin. Probably, his story would have turned out a lot more like Anatoly’s than Charybdis’.
“I can’t believe I ever liked her,” Ophidias muttered darkly. “I even went out with her for a bit before Azkaban. Believe it or not, I thought she was ‘mature’ for her age.” He laughed humourlessly. “But then, I’m stupid. What can I say?”
Ivy turned around sharply on her horse. “You’re not stupid,” she exclaimed. “I was there when your OWLs came, and they were great. And you’re a Prefect and in loads of N.E.W.T.s classes. You’re a smart person who’s done some stupid things.”
Ophidias smirked. “Based on how many,” he said, “I’d say a stupid person who’s done some smart things.” He stroked his horse’s mane, looking almost peaceful. “But this is definitely one of them.”
“Well, you two have certainly been quiet today,” remarked Mrs. Malfoy that evening at dinner.
Ivy, freshly washed and dressed in clean robes, swallowed her spoonful of soup. “We were riding,” she explained, wondering how Mrs. Malfoy could lose track of what they were doing, even in such a massive house. Her parents always knew what exactly everyone was up to back at Number Seven, as chaotic as things often got there.
“Oh, marvelous,” Pansy said carelessly. She seemed chatty, unusual for her. “Well, it’s quite nice to see that you two are getting to be close again.”
Again? Ivy and Ophidias exchanged glances”this was the closest they’d ever been, unless she meant close to killing one another.
“Did you have a good time, then?”
“Er, yes,” replied Ivy, slightly disconcerted that, for the first time in her life, she was the talkative sibling at the dinner table”not that she and Ophidias were technically siblings anymore, of course, she reminded herself.
“I thought you might.” Pansy’s tone grew more serious, though it was clear that she was still attempting to sound casual and friendly. “Ivy, it’s so obvious that this is where you belong. Feel free to visit whenever you like. You were born for a life like ours, not to spend your time with… with Mudbloods and blood-traitors and ghastly part-human creatures like werewolves and””
“SHUT UP.”
But this time, it was not Ivy who had spoken. It was Ophidias, and his voice was unexpectedly sharp and powerful-sounding. He was standing up straight, his head high and his grey eyes simmering, and for the first time since Azkaban, it seemed like the old confident Ophidias was back.
Pansy stared at him in utter shock. Her fork fell out of her hand and onto the ground with a dainty ‘clang’.
“Shut up, mother,” her son growled in a low deadly voice, his face distorting in disgust. “Look, I’m just sick of you trying to hammer stupid stuff like that into our heads. Even I don’t believe you anymore, and if a moron like me doesn’t, then Ivy definitely won’t.”
Pansy laughed nervously. “Ophidias, I””
“I thought I said to shut up!” He narrowed his eyes in the contemptuous, threatening expression that he’d once used on Gryffindors and Muggle-borns not too long before. “And there’s no use trying to get Ivy to give her money to you, either.”
Now Ivy turned to stare at him. “Wait, what?”
“Oh, yeah.” He laughed bitterly, and Ivy realized that he reminded her a lot of Jordan sometimes. Maybe that was why she kept forgetting that he wasn’t her real brother anymore. “You’re going to be of age later this week, and guess what”and I can’t believe you didn’t know this: Dad’s… my dad’s will said that if he dies or is otherwise incapable of running the household or something like that, you inherit all of the money, all the property, the house, the heirlooms, the house elves, everything. And mother”my mother”thought if we could get you to feel like part of the family again, you’d give us, meaning her, some of the inheritance.”
He smiled stonily. “Now, I personally plan on getting a job after school and making money on my own, though I don’t know who would hire me. But anyway, I don’t care about the fortune, and good for you. It’s just, Mother doesn’t feel like getting off her lazy pureblood bum and actually earning some gold for herself, so she’s trying to weasel it off you.”
Pansy sputtered incoherently as Ivy stared from her to Ophidias and back again.
She didn’t even know where to begin thinking about this. Draco Malfoy had left everything”absolutely everything”to her. Pansy would have her life snatched out from beneath her. And she had thought that trying to regain custody of Ivy would make Ivy realize that she wanted to be a Malfoy after all and give everything back to them…She could have laughed. Ivy was years beyond the age of brainwashing.
Ophidias sat down, looking somewhat exhausted after his outburst, and looked expectantly at Ivy, who shook her head in amazement.
“I don’t want this house,” she said slowly. “I don’t want the fortune. You could have just asked.”
It was true that she did not love Mrs. Malfoy, but the money was rightfully hers. She had married Draco Malfoy, helped run his estate, mothered his children (however poorly), helped him escape from prison, spent a year in Azkaban for him. It was ridiculous for her not to receive any of his inheritance.
“But you didn’t have to try to take me away from my family,” she continued. “It’s where I belong. I would have given you the money.” She looked at Mrs. Malfoy in amazement. “Don’t you even know me at all?”
No, she thought to herself. No, Mrs. Malfoy didn’t know her at all. She didn’t know anything about her.
The woman sputtering indignantly at the end of the table was a simple person who had gotten in too deep, Ivy realized. It was plain that all she ever wanted was to marry a wealthy pureblood and live a luxurious life in a beautiful mansion with the freedom to buy whatever she wanted. She obviously hadn’t wanted to be a mother, hadn’t wanted to try and impersonate her own mother passing on all of the pureblood traditions. She didn’t like children, didn’t know how to deal with them. And she really had not wanted to get in conflict with the law.
Against all odds, Ivy found herself feeling sorry for her. She almost smiled. Was she turning into Ted, or had she simply spent so much time with him that he was rubbing off on her?
“Don’t just give in and hand over everything to her!” exclaimed Ophidias feverishly. “Ivy, just stop for one second and think of everything she’s done to you. The last thing she needs is more stuff. Even dad obviously thought she was worthless.”
Ivy smiled serenely. “It’s my money and my house,” she said, her voice completely calm. “I can do what I like with them. And I think she should have them… and you, too, of course.”
“No, thanks,” snarled Ophidias. “I don’t want anything unless I’ve done something to deserve it.”
Pansy, still looking totally confused, gazed blankly at her son, who until just a few minutes before, had seemed a staunch supporter of the pureblood movement. She turned her eyes toward her former daughter, suddenly so confident and poised and as sure of herself as any good pureblood… yet willing to leave all of the Malfoy family inheritance so she could make her own way in the world like a worthless nobody.
It was hopeless to try and reason with either of them. She did anyway.
“But… but… I…” she stammered. “We’re a dying breed.”
“Yeah,” Ophidias said darkly. “Because we’re a breed that’s finally getting smarter and realizing we’re not the only breed out there.”
Mrs. Malfoy shook her head sadly. “I can’t believe it,” she spat. “Blood traitors, the both of you. I feel like a horrible mother… why didn’t I set you right before it was too late?”
“You feel like a horrible mother… ha!” Ophidias began harshly. “You””
“Don’t,” Ivy said, stopping him in mid-sentence. She turned to Mrs. Malfoy and said softly, “I’m sorry you don’t like how I’ve turned out… I really am.” She flicked her fringe out of her eyes. “But the thing is… I’m not sorry for being me.” She caught Ophidias’s eye and smiled slightly. “Do you get what I mean?”
Pansy’s eyes were still wide and completely uneasy. “No.”
“That’s okay,” said Ivy. She hadn’t expected her to.
Ivy tiptoed into the darkened lawn, which suddenly looked sinister under the cover of night. The gentle creaking of the swing added to the weird, eerie mood.
“I thought I’d find you here,” she said, and Ophidias looked up in alarm.
“How did you know I’d be out here?” he demanded, nearly falling off of the swing. “It’s near midnight.”
Ivy sighed. “I knew you’d be somewhere that would make you hard to find,” she explained. She looked at that familiar, angry face. “You know,” she said, “You don’t always have to hate someone. Just because you stopped hating someone doesn’t mean you need to switch to someone else.”
Ophidias’ forehead creased even more. “Ivy, you make no sense sometimes,” he told her. “And the worst part is, I think it’s because you make too much sense.” He snorted. “I guess you’re right,” he said. “I should get over myself. And you know what I think would annoy mother the most?”
“What?”
“If I was actually happy for a change.” He smiled, a lot less bitterly than usual. “It’s worth a try, at least. I’ve yelled enough.”
Ivy smiled back. “I say go for it,” she said. “She won’t know what hit her.”