Astrophile

Prologue

Adhara Malfoy.
There was many words to describe the young girl.
Many wouldn't be kind.
Those who sang praises had an ulterior motive.
She was tired of it.
It only got better when she was asleep, there she could be free with no stress. She had the one thing she wanted the most, Freedom, Peace.
Her life could get worse.
Oh how right she was.
She was only 13.
She was only 13 when she saw the future.
She was only 13 when she witnessed the true horrors of war.
She was only 13 when she could feel every emotion, every pain that ran through her body from the worse unforgivable.
The Cruciatus curse.
And she was only 13 when she woke up from her bed screaming, thrashing and sobbing in a puddle of her own blood.
Her parents rushed into her room as soon as they heard their daughter scream bloody murder. They shook her, cried over her, begged her to wake.
And she did wake.
But she wasn't the same person she was.
She wasn't the same little girl who cried when she didn't get the newest broom.
She wasn't the same little girl who would take every breathing moment she had just to say spiteful words to Harry Potter and his friends.
No.
She was different.
She acted beyond her age.
Because she was beyond her age.
Mentally at least.
No longer was the 13 year old who believed she was better than everyone.
The Malfoy Heiress.
No, she was now the girl who's eyes looked as if they had seen pain and terrors others knew not.
She was now the girl who stayed in her room all day staring blankly at a wall.
Praying, hoping to whoever was out there for the lives of the innocent.
Adhara Cassiopeia Narcissa Malfoy Heiress to the Most Ancient and Noble house of Malfoy was no more. In her place was Adhara Malfoy. The girl who aged beyond her years.