Lexi Layyer my only weakness*hp fanfic*

The truth

“…You are the most important person in the world, which is why you are here, which is why you must be kept safe. You are the only child of Lord Voldemort.”

Narcissa’s words are a slap in the face. The air in my lungs is physically pushed out and I choke on the emptiness. I feel faint as the words ring in my ears, echoing over and over.

You must be kept safe… the only child of Lord Voldemort

“What?” I stammer. “I – bu - I don’t – impossible…”

“Not at all,” she says, the cruelest hint of a smile tugging at her lips because now she knows she has the upper hand. “You are Lexi Riddle.”

“But that’s ridiculous,” I splutter, “I don’t – I – my dad is Jack Layyer, he –”

“He was killed nine months before you were conceived,” she interrupts coolly. “Didn’t you ever look at the dates before, Lexi? And I thought Draco said you were intelligent.”

This can’t be. It’s – it’s impossible.

“How?” is all I can manage, weakly.

Narcissa’s smile gets bigger. “After your father was killed, your mother was held captive here – in this very mansion, coincidentally. But in slightly different circumstances.” A smirk. “She was bribed – if she obeyed the Dark Lord’s wants, your two-year-old brother wouldn’t be killed. Little Alex Layyer was the only thing poor Flora had left, so she did it. Many times, until she became pregnant.”

The rage that suddenly seizes me is so fierce I lunge towards her. “How dare you!?” I scream. “How dare you –”

But she’s ready for me. She produces her wand from the folds of her robes almost casually – a quick burst of green light bursts out of the end, causing me to fly backwards, crashing onto the bed.

The pain is instant but there’s no blood and I don’t think there’s any broken bones, probably only a rainbow of bruises to look forward to, so I fling myself off it and charge towards her again.

But there’s a steely look in her eyes and with the flick of her wand I’m propelled through the air, landing with a harder force upon the bed. This time my right hand crashes against the wall as I land and it immediately sears with pain.

Crying out, I gently cradle it in my lap, knowing one of the bones is definitely broken. Smart enough to know not to try and get up again, I instead fix her with the deadliest stare I’m capable of and try to fight the tears.

She raises her eyebrows. “Oh, please,” she scowls, “look at you, you’re just a child. Don’t try and mess with me. We’re under strict instructions not to hurt you while you’re here but if you dare provoke me I’m sure the Dark Lord will understand. He wouldn’t want a spoilt little brat for a daughter now would he?”

“You’ll never be able to keep me here,” I hiss. “I’m not his daughter, and I’m not staying. Hurt me all you want but I’ll never give up. I’m not his daughter!”

“But look at you,” she purrs, and her sudden change in tone sends chills down the spine. “How can you deny it when you are as you are? You’re just the same as him.”

“I’m nothing like him,” I retort, almost spitting out the words in my anger.

“I wonder…” Narcissa murmurs quietly, “…have you ever seen pictures of the Dark Lord when he was still Tom Riddle? Do you know what he looked like?”

She steps closer to me. I don’t trust her sudden change of mood and I try to move away but my hand hurts too much.

“Dark hair,” she continues, before reaching out a long bony hand towards my face. I flinch as her nails ever-so-slightly dig into my skin. “He had eyes as black as night, and skin as pale as the moon. He was very handsome, just as you are very beautiful.” She smiles. “Has it never struck you as odd that you look absolutely nothing like your mother or father or brother?”