Pandora Malfoy, the twin sister of Draco. Although she was brought up to loathe Muggles, Mudbloods, and blood-traitors just as Draco was, her hidden exposure to the Muggle world meant she felt differently to how she was supposed to. But what will th...
"Dray!" I yelled up into the sky, where my brother was flying around some miniature Quidditch goals, chasing a real Golden Snitch.
When we eventually went to Hogwarts, he really wanted to be picked for the Slytherin Quidditch team. So, a few days after our fourth birthday, Father had hired a professional Quidditch player to teach him how to fly, and how to do some basic moves and tricks on the broom. I'd asked to be allowed to join them, but Father had made it very clear that girls don't play sports, and shouldn't even be allowed to fly. Those were privileges reserved only for boys.
"Hi Dora!"
Draco flew down and dismounted the broom, which was a miniature version of the Comet 260 — the best broom currently on the market. Father had had it specially made so that Draco could use it easier than he would be able to use a full-sized broom, which didn't work very well for seven-year-olds.
"Did you get it?" I asked eagerly, looking around for the Golden Snitch he'd been chasing.
"Not yet," he said, frowning a bit. "It keeps getting away from me!"
"Keep trying, I know you'll get it soon!" I said, with a longing look at the broomstick. Then, in a quiet voice, I added, "Can I have a try at flying, Dray?"
"Yes! Come on, I'll help you!"
He led me to the middle of the mini Quidditch pitch he practiced on, both of us giggling happily as he showed me how to mount and hold the broom.
"Then you use both of your feet to—"
"Pandora."
I flinched as Father's voice came from behind me, then dismounted the broom and turned around, holding it so tightly that my knuckles started turning white.
"Yes, Father?" I said, trying to stop my voice shaking.
He gave me a cold look, ignoring that Draco was breaking the rules just as much as I was, as usual.
"I need to talk to you for a minute."
I froze, terror taking hold. I couldn't move, or even speak. Seeing this, Draco carefully prised the broom from my clenched fist, and instead put his own hand in mine.
"How dare you?" Father started, clearly talking to me. "How dare you ignore the rules we have in place? You are not allowed to fly — ever. And stealing Draco's broomstick—"
"She didn't steal it, Father!" Draco interrupted, moving in front of me a small amount. "I gave it to her!"
Father looked at him in a way that I couldn't work out the meaning of.
"As admirable as it is that you're willing to stand up for your sister, Draco, you clearly wouldn't do something like that," he said, still refusing to admit that Draco was anything less than perfect. "You don't need to feel responsible for your sister's wrongdoing. Now, why don't you run along to the house and see your mother? She wants to talk to you about the Winter Ball."
"Ok, Father!"
Draco started to walk back to the Manor, still holding my hand, but Father quickly stopped him.
"Leave Pandora here, Draco; I haven't finished talking to her yet."
Draco hesitated, then let go of my hand, both of us knowing better than to argue. With one last, worried look in my direction, he left. Now that we were alone, Father immediately resumed his 'talk', as he liked to call them.
"You know you are not allowed to fly, Pandora."
"But I want to fly! Why is Draco allowed but I'm not?!" I cried, louder than I'd meant to.
I knew as soon as I'd said it that I'd made a big mistake. Seven years of life at the Manor had taught me that talking back to my father was a bad idea, yet I still slipped up and did it sometimes.
"Don't you dare question our rules," he said, in a voice so angry that I flinched and took a step backwards. "If I say you are not allowed to fly, you listen and you obey. And if I ever catch you anywhere near a broom that I haven't given you permission to be on, you'll be be very sorry indeed. Do you understand me?"
I nodded meekly, as I'd been taught to do, and said in almost a whisper, "Yes, Father. Sorry, Father."
Without another word, he grabbed my arm and started walking with me back to the Manor, taking confident strides that meant I had to half run to keep up.
"Narcissa!" he called in a demanding way as we went through the front door.
Mother came hurrying out to meet us, with Draco close behind her. I had to suppress a giggle as I saw that Draco was wearing a fancy blue suit with a grey bow tie, and was clearly hating every moment of it.
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(A/N: replace the tie in the suit photo with the bow tie to the right of it. He'll also be wearing this in the next chapter)
Father left me with Mother and Draco, then walked away to some other part of the Manor, saying something about how Draco looked like "the perfect little Malfoy heir" as he went.
"Come on, Pandora," Mother said gently. "Let's go and find you a dress."
"Yes, I don't want to be the only one that looks stupid!" Draco said, tugging a bit at the bow tie, and I really did giggle this time.
Every time we had to go to a formal event, he spent most of the time complaining about how he just wanted to put on a t-shirt and shorts and run around in the garden, or that if his bow tie was tied any tighter it would be strangling him.
I felt the same way about the dresses I had to wear to those events, to be honest. I could never have a fun dress — Father had the final say on whether I was allowed to wear a dress that Mother and I had picked out, and he only allowed ones that made me look like a mini adult. They were normally uncomfortable for some reason or other, and I had to wear stupid high heels with them — they were only really short ones, because Mother had always been adamant about not wanting to damage my feet, and Father had, surprisingly, always listened to her about that, but they were uncomfortable and difficult to walk in all the same.
The annual Winter Ball held at our Manor was one of the worst of the formal events, because Father was insistent that we had to "uphold the Malfoy name". If a single thing was out of place, missing, or somehow like it wasn't planned to be, he would get really angry. When that happened, myself, Mother, and our house-elf Dobby would be the ones he would take out his anger on. He had only ever hit me once in my life so far, when I'd asked him why we were supposed to hate Muggles and Muggleborns even though we were all human beings with thoughts and feelings, but he hurt Mother a lot, and Dobby even more than that.
"Draco to Dora! Come in, Dora; are you there?"
I flinched from my thoughts at my brother's voice, thinking for a moment that it was Father.
"Oh, um, sorry, I was thinking," I said, forcing a smile.
Mother gently took my hand in hers, and Draco took her other hand, then we went up to my bedroom to find a dress for the Winter Ball that would be happening the very next day.
