Amy Riddle - Volume 2: The Half Blood Prince (A Voldemort's Daughter Story)

Part 2

Chapter 2

AMY'S POV

I had smacked him.

God, what a little bastard. After he had told me what happened, my first response was to hit him upside the head.

"Amy, what are you -" he said, holding a hand to the red mark on his face.

"You ... you ... uGH!" I screamed, hitting him again.

He put his hands up in an attempt at surrender. He had scrambled off the bed, hopping to the other side of the room. He grabbed a pillow, holding it up in front of me. "Don't hit me, Amy, just calm down," he had said.

I threw it at him.

"God damn it, Draco!" I yelled.

"Amy, calm down, Amy ... Amy!" Draco said.

I picked up another pillow and had it ready to throw, but dropped it by my feet on the ground. I took a deep breath. "Okay. Okay. I'm calm."

Draco put the pillow down. "I'm sorry, Amy."

I had given Draco the chance to explain himself a little more. After that, he left me alone. I now was sitting by myself in my room, again, just like the rest of my summer. But this time, I actually had problems other than teen angst to deal with. Draco was a good friend of mine. Technically he was my only friend, but I like to pretend that some of the Death Eaters are my friends, although that's completely untrue.

I stared at the wall ahead of me. I closed my eyes momentarily, taking in what I just learned. Draco's childhood was spent growing up in a family of Death Eaters, so I supposed it was inevitable. But I always thought there was a sort of barrier between Draco and the rest of them. He seemed a little better. Probably because he was underage. Underage and naive and innocent - well, compared to my father and the other Death Eaters. He was still in school. Still my best friend. So this was shocking to me.

I didn't think Draco would sink so low as to become a Death Eater himself.

You see, I may be evil and technically on the side of the Death Eaters, but I have a good concept of what good and evil is. I'm the kind of bad guy who understands that I'm a bad guy. You know that old saying, "every villain is a hero in their own mind?" Bull. I'm a villain in my mind. And I hate myself for it. While I was befriending Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, I realized how much better they were. How much more fun they had, how much kinder they were. They had better lives. Death Eaters became vermin to me. My father stopped being a role model and started being terrifying.

And although that was the path for me - villainous, terrifying, and evil - that's not the path I wanted for my friend. If, just say, my father were to lose this big war, I hoped with all my heart that Draco could get out and start a new life.

The rest of us ... well, that's a different story. I was doomed. And now he may be too.

I sighed, resting my head in my hands.

(three days later - the day before school)

When I came out of my room for the second time all summer, I spoke to some of the other Death Eaters around the house. My father was still upstairs, and I didn't even dream of talking to him. Draco was becoming less sociable after becoming a Death Eater. The atmosphere of Malfoy Manor was just plain weird and I wanted out.

I spoke to Narcissa Malfoy. A safe choice, like Draco. Plus, it had been a while since I talked to her. Narcissa was one of the only people I could really call family. She basically raised me as a sort of surrogate mother, since my father wasn't around for the first 14 years of my life.

"How are things?" I asked her.

She smiled softly. "I've seen better days," she replied. "It's good to see you again."

"It's good to be ... um ... back, I guess," I said. "How's Draco?"

Narcissa looked towards the ground. "He's adjusting. I didn't want him to become a Death Eater. But when your father insisted ... Draco did as well. He didn't want to let your father down." She seemed distant and extremely upset, and it made sense that she was. The life she lived wasn't exactly desirable.

"And my father? How is he?" I asked. I looked nervously towards the stairs leading towards his room, as if he could hear everything I was saying. I closed my mind, fearing that he was. The two of us - me and Voldemort - were both Occlumens and Legilimens. He could read my mind and hear my thoughts as long as my mind was left open. Just one more thing that added to my immeasurable stress.

"He's been working hard. After the battle, he's been making up for the loss. He's planning ..." Narcissa trailed off. "Well, I don't quite know what he's planning. Draco is ..."

I looked up, concerned. "Is he okay?"

"I fear that your father is planning something for Draco," Narcissa said quietly. "I'm scared for Draco. I don't want to lose him ... not like I lost ..." Narcissa became quiet.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Don't you know?" Narcissa asked. "You were there, after all. I expected that you saw everything."

"Did something happen?"

Narcissa took a deep breath. "Lucius ..." she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "He is in Azkaban."

My face fell. I felt worse than ever. Being holed up in my room all summer, I had no idea what had been going on outside. Lucius ... arrested?! I felt guilty for not being there for the people I cared about. For Narcissa, who had practically been my mother. For Draco, who I knew needed me more than ever.

And for Lucius. I felt most guilty about him. I was there. I was at the Ministry. I could have done something. I should have done something. I inwardly cringed as I remembered how, even though he was irritating, nagged me, and reprimanded me about my language constantly, he was there for me. The entire time at the ministry he was looking out for me. I closed my eyes. I had fought by his side. I should have gone after him when he was incapacitated.

I suddenly heard a voice. "Cissy!"

I looked up to see Bellatrix Lestrange.

"It's time to go!" she called over. Narcissa glanced at me one last time, looking like she was going to speak, before leaving. Without another word, the two of them were out the door.

I couldn't help but feel slightly angry at Bellatrix as well. She had been the one to kill Sirius. Not that I was particularly mourning him, but it had ripped my heart out to see Harry in all of that pain.

And, especially looking back on it now, he had watched out for me more than my father ever has. Even with just one conversation. He gave me better advice and helped me in more ways than my father could even understand.

And now he was dead. Figures.

After I was alone, I looked up the stairs towards my father's room. I quickly wondered if I should talk to him or not. So much damage had been done to the Malfoys this summer. I couldn't help but wonder what kind of damage had been done to my father - and how much was caused by me.