❝ There's no way a Lestrange could fall for a Weasley, right? ❞
━━ 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟬 - 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟭✨
(PRISONER OF AZKABAN - DEATHLY HALLOWS)
(GEORGE WEASLEY x FEM!OC)
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
PROLOGUE: Girl Lestrange
❀
CALLISTO LESTRANGE GREW UP IN THE LONG SHADOW OF HER PARENTS' NAMES — ALL SHEH HAD WERE THE STORIES LEFT BEHIND. That was all she had ever known of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange. They had been locked away in Azkaban since she was three years old, and she had long accepted that they would never return. The entire wizarding world knew their names — cruel, feared, and whispered like a curse. Callisto had never resented them for it. In truth, she never felt anything at all.
In their absence, she had been raised by Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, who took her in not out of love, but duty. Callisto was grateful, in her own quiet way, knowing that they would have never allowed her to be sent to her estranged Aunt Andromeda. She often imagined her parents would have raised her similarly — steeped in cold doctrine and legacy. The Malfoys taught her that blood mattered more than anything. That those with muddied lineage — blood traitors, half-bloods, mudbloods — were a stain on the magical world. Still, Callisto suspected that, had her parents been there, her childhood would have been forged in something far less genteel than Narcissa's sharp elegance. Brutality, she guessed. Pure and simple.
The girl was the product and heir of the two most pure-blooded families — the Blacks and the Lestranges. There wasn't a single drop of non-magical blood in her entire body, and nothing could change that. Over the years, she had grown aloof, careful not to engage too deeply in conversations about blood politics. Lucius once mistook her silence for rebellion, but she'd calmly informed him that she simply had nothing to say on matters sO beneath her. In truth, she wasn't so sure what she believed.
The Malfoys had always been loyal to the Dark Lord, that was no secret. Callisto often wondered how they avoided being whisked away to Azkaban while her parents were thrown in withouth hesitation. She didn't wish for her parents' return, nor did she begrudge the Malfoys, but still, a sliver of envy dug beneath her skin. Draco had parents. Cruel as they were, he had them while she had only ghosts and reputations.
The relationship between the Lestrange and Malfoy heirs was, at best, civil. They were not close, nor were they enemies. They simply existed beside each other, a shared childhood shaped by politics and expectations. Occasionally, they practiced Quidditch together — not out of affection, but ambition as they both intended to claim spots on the Slytherin team. Nothing more, nothing less.
Callisto, being nearly two years older than Draco, was the first to receive her Hogwarts acceptance letter. She allowed him the honour of opening it. The parchment was yellowed, the ink green, her name scrawled in precise calligraphy. The purple Hogwarts crest glimmered faintly on the seal. Her pale lips curled into a rare smile as her younger cousin read the letter aloud.
"Dear Miss Lestrange, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all the necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1st, we await your owl by no later than July 31st," Draco read and Callisto's smile only grew, she didn't bother to hide her enthusiasm.