Darcie Malfoy

Her long, silky hair had more white than gold, and her face matched the complexion and sharpness of her brother. Even at 6, she promised beauty and grandeur. But those were not the words she was known for.

If there was one word that could remotely hope to justify her little existence, then it was —

Composed.

Magic had embraced her early when she was just a baby in her cradle.

From making the flowers bloom when her mother had taken her out for a stroll through the gardens to making the birds fly towards her with one reach of her hand, she had shown it all.

Yet, none had ever seen Darcie crying or fussing over something since she had started to walk by herself. Draco had shown a great magical potential, too, but not till he neared 3, and she learned the meaning of this difference sooner than one could have thought.

What had pained her in the years to come was that even after being the better of the two, her father had only given her love, not promises.

It all had ever come to Draco to uphold the family's pride after growing up, Draco to live up to the family's greatness, and Draco to continue the family's splendor, as he was the heir of the great pure-blood Malfoy family.

Darcie had never hated her brother for it, for somehow she realized early that all these things that had pained her so had also pained Draco. Even more than her in ways she couldn't understand yet, perhaps.

Indignation, though, had welled up in her heart, anyway.

Her composed temperament hadn't let her express these indignant feelings by turning them into an outcry. Instead, she focused on Greatness. Her odd attraction towards learning about the grand wizards and witches, the history of magic, and magic itself had caught mixed responses from her parents.

Lucius never restricted her from doing or pursuing anything she wanted, but he had complained often about her not wanting enough.

We are Malfoys, her father used to say. And everyone must know that the pure blood of ancient wizards runs through our veins.

On the other hand, Narcissa had never felt dignified about Darcie's taciturnity, forcing her to attend to guests and entertain other children of her age.

The result was that Darcie had turned into a laconic person who went along with people easily but not without unnerving them first. Her composed manner weighed on people more than she desired it to, and the stories about her magical aptitude were spread far and wide; courtesy of her parents.

That resulted in her having no one to call a proper friend.

Except for one, she remembered.

"Father told us," Darcie said, looking at everyone but Draco, "that without our parents' presence we are to use only toy broomsticks."

The Long Gallery went silent.

A few ancient wizards, watching through the portraits, nodded at her words.

Darcie nodded back at them. For, dead or alive, she had learned they were grand wizards and had done great things. However, the nature of those things had yet to expound completely to her.

She turned around and walked into the withdrawing chamber.

Darcie was wearing a gorgeous beige-tone dress. The ivory bodice had a tulle over layer, elaborately decorated with gold floral embroidery, sparkling jewels, and pearl beads, and there were matching embellishments on the skirt and sleeves. The full pleated tulle skirt was ivory and glittery gold, over further white tulle frills and satin layers. With a silky lining, it was soft against the skin and it fastened with pearl buttons and a zip at the back.

It was a stunning dress for special occasions and suited the daughter of the Malfoy family.

Darcie disliked it.

She disliked the pearl necklace on her as well. These weren't the things that made her feel… natural.

One thing that she did like was cupcakes.

The withdrawing chamber had a central, french sea-dog table, resting on four tortoises. It was one of the finest pieces of furniture to be found in its time, originally belonging to Queen Elizabeth I herself. French cupboards and tables, chairs, and tapestries, all celebrated Malfoy's rich french ancestry.

This was the room Darcie liked the most. With its distance from the lower floors, and the bay windows rising from floor to ceiling, she could spend as much time as she wanted reading and thinking while watching the distant greenery farther than ever.

Darcie was reserved, but there was something about those open lands that called out to her.

A few girls were giggling, sitting around the table on stools, but the moment she entered the withdrawing chamber, her eyes moving away from the dark sky outside, all giggling died away.

On the table, there was an empty tray of cupcakes and pastries, and a glass of water.

Should she call Dobby for more? The question surfaced in her mind, but Darcie ignored it. There was one stool left empty on one side of the table, and yet two girls were standing beside it.

The younger of them was looking at the stool.

The older one had a cupcake in her hand.

"Daphne," Darcie said, looking at the older one, "thank you."

Daphne had nordic blue eyes and hair like molten gold. She broke the cupcake in half, and gave one part to Darcie and the other to Astoria, who was a little version of her older sister, but with plump cheeks and black hair.

"We brought the water, Darcie," one girl said jumpily. "Can you show us now?"

Only then did she recall. Yes, they had asked this of her. Nowadays, all had been asking this and that, urging her to show some trick or other.

They are guests, Darcie reasoned, and they are not asking much. Changing water's color…

One must know about water. Then, one must know about colors. More important was to know which color. Yet the most vital was to believe; truly believe, and have the proper intent. If not, she would lose control; Control she had always had trouble with.

The more specific she could be about it, the easier it would become. But this was just a little trick, Darcie knew. She had done it a hundred times before for her mother's parties.

She looked at the water, and the magic came to her. She could feel it, a cool, condensing sensation, at first chaotic, but as her thoughts concentrated, they became orderly.

A deep red color burst out into the water like blood, turning the water red.

The girls gasped.

"My sister changed the hair color of our cat a few days back," Astoria suddenly blurted, chewing on the cupcake.

The gasps turned into an outburst of laughter.

"Yeah, right," Pansy snickered. "Did your sister shorten your height too?" This jest followed another round of laughter.

Darcie looked at Daphne. She didn't know how, but sometimes she could see the truth written in people's eyes. And those blues weren't of a liar, though Daphne had neither accepted nor rejected Astoria's offhanded claim.

This quietness of words and not speaking until it wasn't needed was what had made Darcie and Daphne friends, to begin with.

A pop resounded near them. "Miss Darcie," Dobby said meekly, "Madam Narcissa is calling all down to the Great Hall."

Darcie nodded, and the house-elf disapparated, one girl flinching at the sound of crack as if it wasn't a common happening at her home.

She turned around, Astoria and Daphne catching up to her, as they were already standing. The three other girls followed them out of the withdrawing chamber with hurried steps.

The boys had already gone, Darcie noticed, thinking that her father must have called Draco beforehand to introduce him to one of his friends.

"I turned her whiskers green with her hair," Daphne said, walking by her side.

Darcie remembered how she had explained it to her the last time. "When thinking of hair," she whispered, "you should have thought of length and thickness too. Be specific with thoughts, belief, and intent…"

"… otherwise Control won't come," Daphne completed, looking thoughtful.

"Or use a wand," Darcie added.

Behind her, Pansy clenched her teeth, her childish face twisting with unwanted jealousy.

Down the winding stairs, crossing the first floor's landing, the girls were just about to step down the last few steps.

The push came suddenly.

***************

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