"Draco dear, you will look after her won't you?" Dolores Umbridge was holding Draco Malfoy's arm lovingly. Almost.
Beatrice Umbridge watched the exchange in disgust. Her mother rarely touched her, much less in a gentle way. Draco was her sworn enemy, but in his mother's eyes, Beatrice was the daughter she never had. In Beatrice's own mother's eyes, she was a chore for the house elves to do.
Beatrice didn't think it was possible to hate someone more than she hated Draco Malfoy. He was an ego-filled git, if you asked her. Beatrice was a self-obsessed little-miss-perfect, according to Draco. It didn't matter what Draco and Beatrice thought of each other. Only that when the time came they would be married, and allow the pure bloodline to continue for centuries to come.
"Of course, Ms. Umbridge." his fake-sweet voice made Beatrice gag.
"Merlin, I hate your mother." Draco Malfoy's older sister, Genevieve, whispered to Beatrice as she waltzed down the spiral staircase. She looked perfect, as per usual. There wasn't much room for error when you were the eldest child in a family like the Malfoy's.
"And I hate your brother." it was one of the many reasons the two girl got along, despite Genevieve being two years older. They agreed on most things, and Genevieve had sincerely promised Beatrice to help her out through the year. Genevieve was a Hufflepuff, something no Malfoy would ever want. Genevieve hated pureblood supremacy, and was very open about it. She had been Beatrice's roll model growing up, always so pretty and confident, not caring that the entire world was against her because she was a part of a Slytherin family, but was a Hufflepuff.
Genevieve was amazing with medicine, and wanted to become a healer, either at St Mungos, or take over after Poppy Pomfrey retired from Hogwarts. Being good with medicine meant that potions, herbology, charms, and transfiguration came pretty easy to the girl. Beatrice thought she was truly inspiring, wanting to help people because all her family seemed to do was hurt.
Meanwhile Beatrice dabbled in visual arts, specifically sketching and painting. Genevieve assured her that her dream to become an artist would be helpful and inspirational to a lot of people, but Beatrice thought it was useless. What could a picture painted by a young girl possibly mean to anyone, other than said little girl?
"Beatrice! Genevieve!" It was a less shrill voice than her own mother, but both Beatrice and Genevieve flinched at the pitch. Narcissa Malfoy wasn't a terrible mother, but she didn't understand that Genevieve just didn't care for things like makeup, or fancy clothes, or perfumes. Especially not at only 13.
The two girls reluctantly picked up their trunks, and gave them to a batch of house elves who helped them carry them down. Beatrice didn't particularly like having house elves help, she could take care of herself, but the last time she'd stopped one of the Malfoy's house elves (Dobby, it was) he had started crying and hitting himself over the head. She felt guilty and never tried to stop their assistance again.
They arrived at the living room, which was filled with Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, Mrs. Umbridge, Draco, and a house elf. They were all standing in front of the fire place, a small handful of Floo Powder in each fist. They waved the girls over, and they obeyed.
Soon enough, all four Malfoys and only one Umbridge (Dolores had gotten called to the Ministry for "urgent business") were standing on Platform 9 3/4. Genevieve had run off to find herself a compartment that she could sit alone in, which left Beatrice and Draco to say their goodbyes. Beatrice hugged her "aunt" and "uncle" before leaving as well, Draco trailing lazily behind her.
She found that most of the compartments were already full, and had to settle in the same one as Genevieve, who looked pleased. They both let out a sigh of relief when Draco passed them. Beatrice pulled out her sketchbook, and started drawing Genevieve who looked out the window with a sad look.
Neither of them had many, if any, friends. You'd think they'd become best friends because of this, but they just weren't that close. It didn't help that they wouldn't have any classes together, which would separate them further. Genevieve also thought that Beatrice was pro-pureblood-supremacy, because the girl was too scared to talk about it. Besides, what she thought never mattered to anyone she knew, anyways.
After a while, it was time to change into their robes. Beatrice's were all black, since she was yet to be sorted. But Genevieve's were a bright, honey-bee yellow, against the same black as Beatrice's. Right after they were both seated again, the Scottish mountains came into view. Just over a valley, they could see the castle.
Even Genevieve had to admit, it was beyond fantastic. It was majestic... magical. Beatrice thought that was the only word that could accurately describe it's aura. It was nearly all stone, but in the golden lighting from the sun, it looked like it was pure gold. The fields surrounding the castle were a bright green grass, and as they neared she saw little specks of colour; flowers.
They'd had to cross the river in small boats of two or three. Beatrice had chosen a boat with a girl named Hermione Granger, and a boy named Neville Longbottom. They looked nice enough. Hermione looked stressed, like she was excited but also anxious to get this over with. Neville looked straight up terrified. They both nodded at her, but were too preoccupied to talk. Beatrice thought that was just fine.
A while after standing in line in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall was calling up students, for their sorting. The sorting hat was old and weathered. But it had a face, and would yell out the four houses. Draco had been sorted into Slytherin (big surprise), and that girl Hermione was sorted into Gryffindor. So was Harry Potter! Draco hadn't shut up all summer once hearing the rumors of the Harry Potter joining them at Hogwarts that year.
Something must've happened on the way to the castle, because Draco snarled at the sight of the boy. Eventually Beatrice was called.
"Please not Slytherin, please not Slytherin, please not Slytherin!" she whispered as she sat on the small three-legged stool. The hat was placed on her head and a voice filled her mind.
"Not Slytherin, eh?"
"You can hear me?"
"Well of course I can! I'm the Sorting Hat. Now, you don't want Slytherin, which is good because it wasn't even an option for you. I'm sensing a bit of Hufflepuff, clearly a mentor is in that house? But it's not quite right for you... alright. better be..." the voice left her mind and filled the great hall.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
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silence | r. weasley
Fanfic"i don't mind it much. i like the quiet." "i'm scared of silence." in which the new teacher's daughter makes friends that hate her mother (almost) as much as she does. OR "i found peace in your violence, can't show me there's no point in trying. i'm...
