"I was a fool to think I could ever stay away from you as a kid. Just a taste of temptation and you'll have its sweetness on your lips forever."
Draco Malfoy and Estelle Vaile were allowed to care about each other once. How long can you ignore the...
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❝A broken reflection
tainted by the
blood of her father.❞
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Chapter 4
Christmas Approaches
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The next couple of days were just as difficult as they were boring. My only entertainment was tending to the barn, playing piano, and unsuccessfully trying to find anything useful in the library. Searching aimlessly wasn't fun without the others. It just felt draining and pointless. My laziness wanted to just give up and ask my uncle but Harry, Ron, and Hermione would kill me if I took a risk purely out of laziness.
Daphne had mostly acted like I was a ghost, just like her father was. She was rarely ever at the estate during the days and often spent the night over at the Parkinson Mansion. I'm just glad no one ever bothered coming over here, especially Pansy and Draco. The days inched closer and closer to the Annual Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball, which I learned I was still invited to attend shockingly. Maybe Narcissa didn't totally hate my guts. Still, the thought of being surrounded by my bullies and the adults that look down on me emboldened with alcohol made me so scared I wondered if I really was a fraud of a Gryffindor. Uncle Jasper already laid out the expectations for the evening which could be summarized as me being a perfectly behaved girl that did not speak unless spoken to and when I did speak I would always know the right thing to respond. Even the normal excitement I had for dancing and beautiful dress robes was without a single spark of positivity.
Maybe that's why the dreams started, or maybe it was because my Uncle forgot to order me another supply of the sleeping potion I've taken since I was little to stop my vivid dreams and sleepwalking. Each night my mind was filled with flashes of the thick, dark forest surrounding Malfoy Manor and the overwhelming urge to wander into it. It was confusing and left me with sweat-soaked sheets every morning. I was still too scared to ask about the potion from my Uncle.
Astoria's pain of her misunderstanding about the sorting had her focusing her time and effort pranking me. They weren't really pranks though. Not fun natured like the schemes Fred and George performed. There was no humor but only ruthlessness. It was mostly her putting food in my bed or shoes and breaking my things. She even used her paint set to write childish insults across my vanity mirror like, 'Stinky!' or, 'Ugly!' It hurt a lot but I tried to remember how naive and manipulatable she was at her age. Of course, she listened to what her sister and father said about it. Why wouldn't she? It didn't change how it made me feel though. None of my attempts at creating peace were even slightly successful. All the thoughts I had about myself were disgusting and sharp. It is hard to love anything about yourself when your life was crumbling apart due to who you were as a person.
