"𝔸 lie may take care of the present but it has no future"
When disembarking the Hogwarts Express, Draco Lucius Malfoy meets the most dashing young woman. She was just a regular maid who would serve his family for the rest of her life.
It appears t...
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She cleared her throat ever so slightly. "Sir, are you in need of anything?" Her brows scrunched together, confusion masking her face.
"No! No... I was just wondering-?" Wiping her hands on her apron she walked closer to me, five feet from were I stood to be exact. The faint smell of rose perfume wafted towards me.
"I am a... p-pureblood if you were uh... implying. Your p-parents would not 'hire' anything else." Her voice was shaky and when she said that my parents had 'hired her' it sounded like a lie. A lie that she was told to rehearse.
"That was not what I was about to ask." I paused. The light streaming in from the window cast lights on her high cheekbones and flawless skin. Her eyes seemed to be glowing a golden hue. "Where are you from?" The question came out quick and a bit more forceful than I had wanted it to sound. I probably appeared so rude. She looked at me impassively and replied softly,
"France, s-sir. I used to live there" Her brown orbs looked as if I had grown two heads. It made sense if I thought about it, an accent was present but incredibly faint.
I thought for a second and realized she had said 'used to' instead of present tense. Was she still going to school?
"I am... familiar with the Wizarding School there, do you attend?" I sneered the last part but immediately regretted in doing so, she looked as if she wanted to dig a hole and hide in it for a couple of decades. I just couldn't help but bring that side out. Everyone at school expects me to be cold and demeaning, but she had no idea. Maybe I could start with a clean slate.
"N-No Mr. Malfoy. I am- was home schooled, sir." Eyeing her up and down I noticed a slight shake in her knees. Her hands twisted into knots with her wand and her other hand mind numbingly on her maid's outfit.
"How old are you?" I questioned, interested in the fragile girl before me. So many questions swarmed in my head. Why were her clothes so simple but elegant looking? Why did her hair look soft as silk? And why was she in this gloomy place.
"E-excuse me?" She cowardly focused her eyes on the carpet in front of me.
"Look at me when I talk to you," She whipped her head up, "How old are you... or do I have to spell this out for you?"
She denounced the idea by shaking her head, "I am f-fourteen, sir." Good she is the same age as me.
She would make a fine girl to date. I mean a person to have fun with. I mean... never mind.
I slump into a couch that faced the window and stared at the girl cleaning the gigantic window. She had cleaning supplies floating all around her. Spray bottles, wax, window shiner, clothes, and a little pack of laundry detergent I am pretty sure she didn't want out. Her hair was starting to come loose from the bun she so strictly had as she manually rubbed the glass.
