Forbidden

1

Authors note- Hello! And welcome to this beautiful story. I really hope you love this book as much as I enjoy writing it. It is still being written so please give me your ideas and opinions! I will be uploading at least 2 chapters a week. I would love to know the date you've started reading this book and what house are you in! Thank you so much for the support, enjoy!

In the Malfoy household, love was a rarity. The Manor itself was cold and isolating despite its regal decor. House elves worked tirelessly to keep the house in pristine condition.

I knew my identity – my name and my essence. Memories of life before the Malfoys are faint; at three, the first war concluded, leading to my parents' repercussions. It was Aunt Narcissa who took me into her care.

Raised to follow my pure blood status alongside Draco, we adhered to strict rules, learnt our morals, and never dared to defy Uncle Lucius—a stern, unyielding figure. I never witnessed a glimpse of love or affection from him toward his son, Draco.

I had no memories of ever being hugged. Not by my mother, my father, or the Malfoys. Even on my first day at Hogwarts, Lucius offered a nod, and Narcissa gave a brief squeeze on my shoulder. That fleeting moment marked the only affection I had ever known.

As the years pass, my aunt notes the resemblance between my maturing self and my mother, the comment always making my stomach churn and bile rise up my throat. My once wild, dark, long curls have tamed, and my deep brown eyes now carry a subtle lightness. Occasionally, I catch Narcissa observing me, a trace of sorrow lingering in her gaze.

In my first year, I grasped the weight of my name. Boarding the train, I was faced with two redheads, the Weasleys. Engaged in practicing a spell taught by their oldest brother, they levitated a fellow first-year's bag above her head. Laughter echoed loudly from the twins as the blonde girl struggled to retrieve her bag, her attempts falling short.

I couldn't help but smirk at the two jokesters, genuinely impressed by their prank. Locking eyes with one of them, I marveled at the uncanny resemblance – they truly were identical!

"George Weasley, nice to make your acquaintance," he smiled confidently, extending his hand towards me. Despite the warnings about the Weasleys being blood traitors, mere muck on the bottom of one's shoe, as my uncle would say, I couldn't help but feel intrigued. I shook his hand, the contact surprisingly gentle.

"Scarlett... Scarlett LeStrange," I introduced myself, and at the mention of my last name, both boys visibly paled, abruptly concluding their prank. Fred promptly nudged his twin's hand out of mine.

"Come on, George, let's find a seat," Fred muttered, pulling George away. I stood there, shocked and disheartened by the abrupt change in their demeanor. I should've expected this; everyone knows the dark history of my mother and father in the wizarding world.

As expected, I was sorted into Slytherin. Throughout my first year, fellow Slytherins incessantly inquired about my mother, practically idolizing her. I never quite grasped the fascination. Meanwhile, individuals from every other house steered clear of me, exchanging whispers whenever I was in proximity.

"Did you hear what her parents did!"

"I heard the longbottoms are just gormless shells now." Students from all years whispered.

I forged few friendships, most drawn to me solely for my name. Once they realized I didn't align with the assumed evil and cunning traits, they swiftly grew bored of my more placid nature.

Second year unfolded in a similar fashion. I dedicated myself to my studies, excelling and gaining Snape's favor for my talent in potions. Unsurprisingly, he treated me better than the Gryffindors we shared classes with—Fred and George, in particular, receiving the brunt of his displeasure. Though, to be fair, their antics often invited trouble.

During one lesson, the boys bickered over the proper preparation of an ingredient for a potion. One insisted on cutting, the other wanted it whole, while the book clearly instructed to crush the cockroach before adding it to the cauldron.

A resounding boom echoed in the classroom, drawing everyone's attention to the now soot-faced, singed-haired twins. They exchanged shocked glances before a mischievous smile spread across both their faces. "Wicked," they exclaimed in unison.

"50 points from Gryffindor! Each!" Snape seethed, yanking both boys out of the classroom by their collars. I couldn't suppress the small smile that graced my lips.

As George was dragged past me, he noticed my smile and responded with a smirk of his own.

Third year was slightly different, this time Draco joined Hogwarts... along with Harry Potter. He was a scrawny looking boy, his eyes wide in amazement as he sat at the Gryffindor table alongside more Weasleys, a bushy haired girl, and a couple boys that looked equally as mesmerised.

Draco incessantly ranted about Potter throughout the year, and it became incredibly tedious. Fed up with the constant attention and first years staring at me in fear, I sought solace in spending more time alone. It seemed each year brought the same reactions.

One day I observed a short, plump first year in tears, my heart clenched at the sight of his distress. Determined to be my own person and not just Bellatrix's daughter, I approached him.

"Are you okay there? Do you need some help?" I spoke softly, leaning down to his level as he curled against the wall. Placing my hand on his arm, his head jerked up, our eyes meeting.

His eyes widened with a fear I hadn't seen in any other student's eyes. He hastily scrambled up from the stone floor, tripping slightly in the process.

"B...b... Bella... bellatrix..." he stuttered, his face paling. As I stepped forward to reassure him, he jumped back with a scream, running away as fast as he could. I stood there, perplexed, wondering what I had done to scare him so profoundly.

"Oi LeStrange! What did you do to Longbottom?" Fred Weasley's voice echoed. I turned around to find both twins approaching me, anger evident. I felt myself shrink slightly as his height towered over me, George's eyes seemed to softened as he noticed.

"I... I didn't do anything," I stuttered, stepping back from the seething twin. Then it hit me – Longbottom, the name of the couple my parents had tortured to insanity. No wonder he reacted that way.

"I don't believe you; a Slytherin like you should be locked up with your mother!" Fred's eyes narrowed, his face reddening. I glanced at George, who seemed slightly taken aback by his brother's words.

"Just fuck off, Weasley!" I hissed before fleeing down to the Slytherin common room. I retreated to my bed, where I silently cried alone.

Fred never liked me, George seemed to hate me less. Instead I saw pity in his eyes most of the time whenever Fred would taunt me or attempt to prank me. Draco, in an attempt to defend me, unleashed hexes on several occasions until I finally asked him to desist, leaving him bewildered by my response.

However, after witnessing me charm a delectable box of chocolates signed to Fred from his secret admirer, Draco couldn't help but laugh as a clucking Fred stalked around the Great Hall, his feathers a lovely red to match his hair. Even George struggled to contain his laughter at my Weasley-esque prank.

In my fifth year, my cousin escaped from Azkaban—Sirius Black. I had no memories of the man, knowing that he didn't get along with my parents, dedicated followers of Voldemort. Rumors circulated that he was on Hogwarts grounds, intending to harm Harry. Oddly enough, whispers suggested he was Harry's godfather, attempting to protect him from a rat. It all sounded quite peculiar.

That brings us to today. The day me and Draco have been very excited for. The day of the quidditch World Cup!