The Usual Suspects
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
18
Views:
1,911
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
18
Views:
1,911
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Purebloods
I must have been 5 years old. I could tell by the fact that I couldn't see over the banister yet, but had to peek through the bars.
The thunder had woken me up. I'd always been afraid of thunder. No matter how many times Mummy explained that it was natural, that we were safe, the noise jarred something deep inside me.
I had crept from my room to seek the safety of my parents' bed. Father wouldn't even know I was there until he woke in the morning. Mummy would hold me, croon to me, and I would fall asleep at last, regardless of the noise outside.
Down the hall I went, silent, afraid of waking something beside my parents, on edge as I waited for another crash from the sky. I could hear the rain beating down on the roof, and I knew the storm was far from over.
I only had to pass the gaping staircase and I'd be at my parents' door. As I got to the stairs, another thunderclap shook, and I dropped to my knees, holding the wooden banister with one hand. The thunder faded and I pulled to stand again, my heart racing. It was then that I heard laughter.
It was coming from downstairs. Something about it didn't sound right. It sounded wrong, like there was no humor or joy behind it at all. It was Father's voice, then the voice of another man, and a group of them. I thought I heard Mummy, but she wasn't laughing. She was speaking, low and fast, as though everything she said was terribly important and she was afraid she might not get to say it.
I turned down the staircase, holding tightly as my nightgown swished about my ankles. Down I went, one step, another and another, clinging to the rail. Thunder crashed again, and I shrieked, but the thunder covered my voice.
When I got to the bottom the laughter had stopped. I heard several muffled voices and turned into the kitchen, which was completely dark. All I could see in the black of night was a strip of light showing beneath the door to the cellar.
The floor was so cold on the soles of my feet, and I gathered the sleeves of my nightgown around my hands, as if I could somehow protect myself that way. I was scared, but I was curious.
There was laughter again, and a thud or two from downstairs. I heard a low male voice, somewhat musical, but couldn't make out his words. Another crash of thunder sent me to my knees on the floor. Mummy and Father were down there, and I was scared. I needed them.
I was nearly at the door. I stood and reached out for the knob. I heard a shriek from behind that door and my blood froze. I could hear pounding in my ears, and suddenly I was blinded as the cellar door was thrown open and light flooded into the room.
Mummy toppled in front of me, whimpering, and a tall figure, silhouetted in the light behind him, grabbed her by the back of her collar and hauled her to her feet.
"What have we here?" I heard. It was that musical male voice, and it might have been beautiful had it not been for the malicious edge to it.
"MarySue..." It was Father. I could hear him, though I couldn't pick out any more than the shape of his shoulders in the light.
"Perhaps she should join the festivities," drawled that musical voice.
No. Something was wrong with this, and I didn't want a part of it. I looked toward the shape that was my father, but he didn't say no. I prayed for him to send me back to my room, to shout at me for interrupting, but to let me go. But he didn't.
I noted the quick nod of his head before the man holding my mother grabbed hold of me as well, wrapping his arm around my waist and hauling me to his body. Mummy screamed and began to thrash. "Not Mary! You can't do this!"
I began to cry, afraid to struggle, afraid to let him take me into the cellar, afraid of the terror in my mother's voice. The man let my mother go, pushing her down the stairs, where Father caught her. Father turned and pushed Mummy ahead of him, and the man holding me started down the stairs.
A crash of thunder tore through the house and I screamed, tore at the man's gloved hand, kicked as hard as I could. He wrapped both arms around me and drawled in my ear, "Hush, child. Thunder is the least of your worries." His tone silenced me.
We reached the bottom of the stairs, and I could see a group of men standing around a table, chairs pushed against the wall. Father held Mummy in front of him, and she was so pale, but she was quiet. Deathly quiet. Her mousy brown hair hung in her eyes, a riot of tangled curls. Father looked like a statue. He could have been marble he was so ghostly white, but the black of his hair and the yellow-green of his eyes ruined the effect. All eyes were on me and my captor.
I was set in a chair, and the man who had held me knelt to speak. His eyes were an unnatural shade of gray, piercing me like daggers. His face was pale and pointed, almost beautiful, except for the expression of mock amusement on his face. He had white blond hair, pulled back with a velvet ribbon. His lips were curved into a smile, but I didn't trust that smile. My eyes strayed to the ribbon rather than see that smile.
"Look at me, child," the man drawled. His voice was so pretty, and I looked at him, though his eyes scared me. "Do you know what a Pureblood is?"
I wrinkled my nose. "No."
The man looked over his shoulder at my father, who stared resolutely at the wall. The man looked at me again. "Do you know what Muggles are?"
I was relieved. This I knew. "Muggles are people who can't do magic."
"And Mudbloods?"
I heard a squeak from my mother and looked toward her, but the man caught my chin and I was forced to look at him. "Do you know what a Mudblood is?" A slight sneer swept across his face, and I somehow felt that this was the real man, not the musical, beautiful man I'd seen before.
"No," I said.
Mummy screamed, but I couldn't look at her. The man held my jaw tight, and I could see nothing but him.
"Muggles are filthy creatures," he spat, squeezing my jaw. I tried to pull away. "Purebloods can trace only wizards and witches in their family lines."
"Like me..."
The man smiled again and released my jaw. I leaned around him. Mummy was hanging in Father's arms.
"Yes, like you," the man said. I looked back at him. "Mudbloods are as bad as Muggles. Do you understand?" I nodded. "Your dear mother doesn't understand. Isn't that a shame?"
I looked over his shoulder at Mummy again. She lifted her head wearily. There was no spirit in her eyes. Father's face was expressionless. That scared me almost as much as the emptiness of mother's.
The man spoke to me again, and I looked away from my parents. I didn't want to see them like this. Maybe if I was good, the man with the musical voice would be nice to me. Maybe I would be okay. "Your mother is a blood traitor." He said this as if it were a bad word, and I shrank back from him. "She doesn't understand."
I nodded and he continued. "Do you know what happens to blood traitors?" I didn't dare shake my head. I didn't want to know. The man stood, pointing his wand at Mummy. "Crucio!"
Mummy's screams tore through my head, and I screamed too. A wave of thunder shook the walls, but all I could feel was the pain in my throat as I screamed. Mummy convulsed, her body shook, and she collapsed. Father dropped her to the ground, he didn't help her, he just watched, as though she were nothing, as though even he wasn't there.
The thunder stopped and the man lowered his wand. I stopped screaming, though my heart raced so fast that it hurt. Mother was whimpering on the floor. All the others in the room laughed, and I felt sick.
The man turned to me again. He towered over me this time, and I looked up at him, afraid of what he might do to me. "Will you remember this lesson?" he asked. I nodded. I just wanted to be safe. I didn't want to see him hurt Mummy again. "Eliot," the man called, and a light came into father's eyes. "You have not seen to your daughter's education."
Father stepped over mother, who had curled her arms around her knees on the floor. "I left that to her mother, Lucius. There was no way to know that she was a blood traitor."
The man, Lucius, sneered at me. "The child is how old?" He stooped in front of me once more. "How old are you?" he demanded. I was too terrified to speak.
"Five," Father said.
Lucius stood. "Draco is five, and well versed in the superiority of our race." He turned to look at Father, and I caught sight of the ribbon at the back of his neck again.
"As I said, there was no way to know..."
"Silence!" Father was quiet. Lucius took a half step toward him. "I take it that you will see to her education personally," he asked, his voice so low, but so frightening all the same.
"Yes, of course," Father muttered.
"Blood traitor," Lucius said under his breath, and turned to leave, kicking Mummy in the side as he passed. She shuddered, but made no sound, and he strode up the stairs, the others following in his wake.
The room was quiet. Mummy was breathing, but so shallow that I could barely hear. Father waited for the sound of the door clicking at the top of the stairs, then turned to me.
"You are never to tell anyone about this," he said. I nodded. He turned to Mummy, and as he did, I saw a look of disgust mar his face. "Blood traitor," he spat.
"I didn't sleep with him," Mummy said, and her voice was so soft, so filled with pain, that I began to cry. Don't, I thought. he might think you're a blood traitor too.
"Liar!" Father yelled, and I cowered in the chair. I had never heard my parents argue before. This couldn't be happening. I must be having a nightmare. I would wake up and run into their room and it would all be okay.
Mummy cried softly.
I tried to hold in my tears.
Father turned and scooped me into his arms. He carried me up the stairs, and for once I wasn't comforted by the strength of his arms or the steady beat of his heart.
When he put me in my bed, he sat beside me, tucking the covers up across my chest. "Just forget all of this," he said. I nodded, and when he stood, I rolled to my side, pulling my knees to my chest.
The thunder had woken me up. I'd always been afraid of thunder. No matter how many times Mummy explained that it was natural, that we were safe, the noise jarred something deep inside me.
I had crept from my room to seek the safety of my parents' bed. Father wouldn't even know I was there until he woke in the morning. Mummy would hold me, croon to me, and I would fall asleep at last, regardless of the noise outside.
Down the hall I went, silent, afraid of waking something beside my parents, on edge as I waited for another crash from the sky. I could hear the rain beating down on the roof, and I knew the storm was far from over.
I only had to pass the gaping staircase and I'd be at my parents' door. As I got to the stairs, another thunderclap shook, and I dropped to my knees, holding the wooden banister with one hand. The thunder faded and I pulled to stand again, my heart racing. It was then that I heard laughter.
It was coming from downstairs. Something about it didn't sound right. It sounded wrong, like there was no humor or joy behind it at all. It was Father's voice, then the voice of another man, and a group of them. I thought I heard Mummy, but she wasn't laughing. She was speaking, low and fast, as though everything she said was terribly important and she was afraid she might not get to say it.
I turned down the staircase, holding tightly as my nightgown swished about my ankles. Down I went, one step, another and another, clinging to the rail. Thunder crashed again, and I shrieked, but the thunder covered my voice.
When I got to the bottom the laughter had stopped. I heard several muffled voices and turned into the kitchen, which was completely dark. All I could see in the black of night was a strip of light showing beneath the door to the cellar.
The floor was so cold on the soles of my feet, and I gathered the sleeves of my nightgown around my hands, as if I could somehow protect myself that way. I was scared, but I was curious.
There was laughter again, and a thud or two from downstairs. I heard a low male voice, somewhat musical, but couldn't make out his words. Another crash of thunder sent me to my knees on the floor. Mummy and Father were down there, and I was scared. I needed them.
I was nearly at the door. I stood and reached out for the knob. I heard a shriek from behind that door and my blood froze. I could hear pounding in my ears, and suddenly I was blinded as the cellar door was thrown open and light flooded into the room.
Mummy toppled in front of me, whimpering, and a tall figure, silhouetted in the light behind him, grabbed her by the back of her collar and hauled her to her feet.
"What have we here?" I heard. It was that musical male voice, and it might have been beautiful had it not been for the malicious edge to it.
"MarySue..." It was Father. I could hear him, though I couldn't pick out any more than the shape of his shoulders in the light.
"Perhaps she should join the festivities," drawled that musical voice.
No. Something was wrong with this, and I didn't want a part of it. I looked toward the shape that was my father, but he didn't say no. I prayed for him to send me back to my room, to shout at me for interrupting, but to let me go. But he didn't.
I noted the quick nod of his head before the man holding my mother grabbed hold of me as well, wrapping his arm around my waist and hauling me to his body. Mummy screamed and began to thrash. "Not Mary! You can't do this!"
I began to cry, afraid to struggle, afraid to let him take me into the cellar, afraid of the terror in my mother's voice. The man let my mother go, pushing her down the stairs, where Father caught her. Father turned and pushed Mummy ahead of him, and the man holding me started down the stairs.
A crash of thunder tore through the house and I screamed, tore at the man's gloved hand, kicked as hard as I could. He wrapped both arms around me and drawled in my ear, "Hush, child. Thunder is the least of your worries." His tone silenced me.
We reached the bottom of the stairs, and I could see a group of men standing around a table, chairs pushed against the wall. Father held Mummy in front of him, and she was so pale, but she was quiet. Deathly quiet. Her mousy brown hair hung in her eyes, a riot of tangled curls. Father looked like a statue. He could have been marble he was so ghostly white, but the black of his hair and the yellow-green of his eyes ruined the effect. All eyes were on me and my captor.
I was set in a chair, and the man who had held me knelt to speak. His eyes were an unnatural shade of gray, piercing me like daggers. His face was pale and pointed, almost beautiful, except for the expression of mock amusement on his face. He had white blond hair, pulled back with a velvet ribbon. His lips were curved into a smile, but I didn't trust that smile. My eyes strayed to the ribbon rather than see that smile.
"Look at me, child," the man drawled. His voice was so pretty, and I looked at him, though his eyes scared me. "Do you know what a Pureblood is?"
I wrinkled my nose. "No."
The man looked over his shoulder at my father, who stared resolutely at the wall. The man looked at me again. "Do you know what Muggles are?"
I was relieved. This I knew. "Muggles are people who can't do magic."
"And Mudbloods?"
I heard a squeak from my mother and looked toward her, but the man caught my chin and I was forced to look at him. "Do you know what a Mudblood is?" A slight sneer swept across his face, and I somehow felt that this was the real man, not the musical, beautiful man I'd seen before.
"No," I said.
Mummy screamed, but I couldn't look at her. The man held my jaw tight, and I could see nothing but him.
"Muggles are filthy creatures," he spat, squeezing my jaw. I tried to pull away. "Purebloods can trace only wizards and witches in their family lines."
"Like me..."
The man smiled again and released my jaw. I leaned around him. Mummy was hanging in Father's arms.
"Yes, like you," the man said. I looked back at him. "Mudbloods are as bad as Muggles. Do you understand?" I nodded. "Your dear mother doesn't understand. Isn't that a shame?"
I looked over his shoulder at Mummy again. She lifted her head wearily. There was no spirit in her eyes. Father's face was expressionless. That scared me almost as much as the emptiness of mother's.
The man spoke to me again, and I looked away from my parents. I didn't want to see them like this. Maybe if I was good, the man with the musical voice would be nice to me. Maybe I would be okay. "Your mother is a blood traitor." He said this as if it were a bad word, and I shrank back from him. "She doesn't understand."
I nodded and he continued. "Do you know what happens to blood traitors?" I didn't dare shake my head. I didn't want to know. The man stood, pointing his wand at Mummy. "Crucio!"
Mummy's screams tore through my head, and I screamed too. A wave of thunder shook the walls, but all I could feel was the pain in my throat as I screamed. Mummy convulsed, her body shook, and she collapsed. Father dropped her to the ground, he didn't help her, he just watched, as though she were nothing, as though even he wasn't there.
The thunder stopped and the man lowered his wand. I stopped screaming, though my heart raced so fast that it hurt. Mother was whimpering on the floor. All the others in the room laughed, and I felt sick.
The man turned to me again. He towered over me this time, and I looked up at him, afraid of what he might do to me. "Will you remember this lesson?" he asked. I nodded. I just wanted to be safe. I didn't want to see him hurt Mummy again. "Eliot," the man called, and a light came into father's eyes. "You have not seen to your daughter's education."
Father stepped over mother, who had curled her arms around her knees on the floor. "I left that to her mother, Lucius. There was no way to know that she was a blood traitor."
The man, Lucius, sneered at me. "The child is how old?" He stooped in front of me once more. "How old are you?" he demanded. I was too terrified to speak.
"Five," Father said.
Lucius stood. "Draco is five, and well versed in the superiority of our race." He turned to look at Father, and I caught sight of the ribbon at the back of his neck again.
"As I said, there was no way to know..."
"Silence!" Father was quiet. Lucius took a half step toward him. "I take it that you will see to her education personally," he asked, his voice so low, but so frightening all the same.
"Yes, of course," Father muttered.
"Blood traitor," Lucius said under his breath, and turned to leave, kicking Mummy in the side as he passed. She shuddered, but made no sound, and he strode up the stairs, the others following in his wake.
The room was quiet. Mummy was breathing, but so shallow that I could barely hear. Father waited for the sound of the door clicking at the top of the stairs, then turned to me.
"You are never to tell anyone about this," he said. I nodded. He turned to Mummy, and as he did, I saw a look of disgust mar his face. "Blood traitor," he spat.
"I didn't sleep with him," Mummy said, and her voice was so soft, so filled with pain, that I began to cry. Don't, I thought. he might think you're a blood traitor too.
"Liar!" Father yelled, and I cowered in the chair. I had never heard my parents argue before. This couldn't be happening. I must be having a nightmare. I would wake up and run into their room and it would all be okay.
Mummy cried softly.
I tried to hold in my tears.
Father turned and scooped me into his arms. He carried me up the stairs, and for once I wasn't comforted by the strength of his arms or the steady beat of his heart.
When he put me in my bed, he sat beside me, tucking the covers up across my chest. "Just forget all of this," he said. I nodded, and when he stood, I rolled to my side, pulling my knees to my chest.