"Do you even remember that night? When we were thirteen? When I told you that if I could spend the rest of my life with anybody, it'd be you?"
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Aquila Malfoy knew, through and through, that she was a Malfoy. She had the pale skin, shiny blonde...
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Narcissa Malfoy was insistent on her children staying true to not only her husband's side of the family, but her own. The most noble house of Black would not be disrespected under her watch. So, starting from the second they were born, Aquila and Draco were to learn both English and French.
They never had much of a problem adapting to it. By the time a child is able to carry out a full conversation in any language, the Malfoy siblings were able to switch between French and English with no problems. While they both preferred to speak in English at home, they absolutely loved gossiping to each other in French when they were out in the busy streets of London. It was like their own secret language— the old bloke reading The Daily Prophet outside of Flourish and Blotts had no idea they were making fun of the toilet paper stuck to his shoe, nor did the old bat who was drinking tea outside of the Leaky Cauldron know her cat had coughed a hairball into her handbag.
Aquila and Draco's favorite night of French-speaking in particular was at the Minister for Magic's Christmas party, where all of the most prestigious wizarding families in England were invited. Usually at an event like this the siblings would split up to find literally anyone else to play with, but they were always the only kids there, so they were forced to tolerate each other. The first little while of the party was absolutely horrendous, but soon enough, after they both witnessed the Minister himself sit on a red velvet cupcake, they were giggling up an absolute storm, and making fun of him in French. At the end of the night, Narcissa found the two of them passed out under the dessert table, Draco's head on Aquila's shoulder, with icing and cupcake crumbs on the corners of their mouths.
It was always refreshing to see the two of them get along, for you see, Aquila and Draco rarely ever did. Though they shared the same parents, the same toys, and the same home, Draco and Aquila did not share the same views. It was funny, really, to watch two children raised under the same rules and regulations grow up into two completely different people. Draco was the rule follower— clinging to his father's every word and sentiment, almost as if he was trying to be a clone of Lucius. Aquila, on the other hand, was no stranger to mischief— always throwing out a comment that would rile her father up, or pulling a stunt that was designed to rebel against their parents views.
With all of this, you would think that Draco was the favorite, but you would be wrong. Aquila basically ran Malfoy Manor, harboring all her parents' attention. Every single little thing she did (achievements, mind you, not causing trouble) earned her a pat on the back. Whether it was how fast she picked up flying, or how much she seemed to know about magic before attending a single class at Hogwarts, Aquila always seemed to warrant the most amount of praise from her family.
As you can imagine, this infuriated Draco. How could Aquila, after every single bit of defiance, still be the favorite? Draco was not stupid (though his family often made him feel that way)— he knew his mother and father liked her more. Of course they didn't love her more— Draco knew he and his sister were both loved the same. But love wasn't what this was about. This was about validation. Admiration. Draco craved the praise that his sister got. Aquila's achievements were always acknowledged, no matter how small they were, while his always seemed to be swept under the rug. His eyes practically spit fire at Aquila anytime Narcissa and— especially— Lucius did so much as smile at her, no matter the situation. What really set him into a rage, though, was the fact that Aquila didn't seem to care.
