A black-haired, brown-eyed eleven-year-old sat gazing out the window of Malfoy Manor. Her name was Zaire Riddle, though she wished it was something else. The name was a burden on her in the Wizarding World, the name that, whenever a shopkeeper asked her name, they flinched back a few steps and glared at her in disgust. Zaire had lacked the one thing every child should receive- love. She had never said, “I love you”, and no one had ever said so to her. Her mother had died soon after she was born, killed by Bellatrix Lestrange out of jealousy. Her father, Tom Riddle -Lord Voldemort, as he was known, had then given her to the Malfoys in order to raise Zaire the pureblood way. However, her father had died, Lucius had been sentenced to Azkaban Prison for twenty years, and Narcissa had been excused because of her heroics in helping Harry Potter. She instead was required to do community service, or, in Narcissa’s case, make donations to causes helping those hurt by Voldemort. Draco would sometimes visit to help his mother, but all he told Zaire was to stay away from Mudbloods.
She was mulling over this when Narcissa called for her. “Zaire! Draco is here!” Draco had volunteered to give the two a ride to King’s Cross Station, and so Zaire got up eagerly, and dragged her trunk down the stairs. She was excited to go to Hogwarts, excited to meet new people, excited to escape the silence and sadness of Malfoy Manor. She walked towards Narcissa, who was looking at Zaire with a broken expression. Zaire nodded to her and walked out the door and towards the black car Draco was sitting in. Zaire placed her trunk in the boot of the car, and then she leapt into the back seat. Narcissa slowly sat in the front, and Draco began his drive.
“So, has the Ministry called lately, Zaire?” Draco said.
“Yes, they have, Uncle Draco.”
“I see. Well, make sure you stay away from Mudbloods at Hogwarts, understand?” Zaire nodded mechanically, the way she had since Draco had first told her that. She privately did not have a specific feeling towards blood purity, it was simply the way she was raised, and she just had learned it.
“Yes, Uncle Draco.” They drove in silence for the rest for the trip, and when they had reached the station, Zaire had to carry her trunk by herself. Draco waved to her, and Narcissa stared ahead, unseeing.
Zaire lugged her trunk to a cart, and then looked back once more to see Draco turned away and putting a foot on the gas pedal. Zaire sighed, and pushed her cart to the wall between Platforms Nine and Ten that Draco had told her to run through. She took in a sharp breath before running straight for it. Her long black hair swung behind her as she ran, and her brown eyes held a steely resolve and a flicker of fear in them. She took another breath right before the wall, she felt as though she would hit it, she didn’t even have time to close her eyes when- she saw the scarlet and black train puffing its horn. She took in the sights of the station, from the scared Mudbloods to the bold purebloods. She wondered where she fit in. Then she heard the train whistle and grabbed her trunk.
Zaire ran forward to the train, and climbed up the two stairs to see the compartments. She took a deep breath before sliding open the door of the first compartment. “Um, may I, uh, sit here?” she asked hesitantly, knowing that she was going out on a limb.
“Oh, yeah, sure.” The boy who was closest to the door moved a pile of books from the seat. “What’s your name?”
“Zaire Riddle.” She got exactly the reaction she expected.
“Never mind, your father killed mine. You bitch, think you can sit with us.” Zaire stepped back, a little shocked at the last statement. She had expected hostility, but she hadn’t expected that. She nodded, lip trembling, and stepped out. She had planned to go to the next compartment, but what was the point? She pulled her trunk and felt the tears begin to stream down her face not only at the fact she was considered many things she didn’t want to be considered, but also at the fact that it was her family that had killed so many people, ripped apart so many lives. She walked quickly down the train, and then she saw a compartment with only one boy. She sighed, hoping it was her lucky day. Otherwise, she’d have to stay in the hallway.
“Um, can I sit here? All the other compartments are full,” she explained to him.
“Of course. Just shut that door, I’m being chased around by people who want my godfather’s autograph. It’s a little annoying. I’m Ted Lupin, by the way. What’s your name?” the boy, Ted, said, flipping his rather long brown bangs out of his eyes to reveal the nicest looking pair of blue eyes Zaire had ever seen. Then she registered who this was. It was the son of a werewolf, godson of the man who had killed her father, her father had indirectly killed his parents, and she came to the conclusion he would not want her to stay.
“I’m... Zaire Riddle,” she said quietly, hoping he would maybe let her stay.
“Voldemort’s kid?” he said incredulously.
“Yeah, I am. Would you like me to leave?” Zaire said dejectedly. Ted took in a breath, and he seemed to be sturggling with himself before he said the most surprising thing Zaire had heard all day.
“No, you can stay.” Zaire gave him a grateful look, and then she tried to throw her trunk up to the shelf. Ted got up to help her, and together they pushed it up. Zaire plopped down and leaned back, and then Ted asked her a question.
“Not to be rude, but do you ever resent being Voldemort’s daughter? Or do you enjoy the attention?” He almost seemed rather accusing, and Zaire wasn’t sure why. She was quick to answer the truth.
“I hate it. I hate having to open the Prophet and see memorials of people killed by my father, and seeing happy kids on the picture page smiling. I hate it. I want to be like you: loved, cared for, and free. But I’m not! My entire family is hated! Yours is adored! I cry at night because of what someone told me! And you think I like it?” Zaire said furiously, angry that Ted would even consider this.
“Sorry, I honestly don’t. I just wanted to make sure you did.” Ted began to laugh. Zaire opened her mouth angrily, but then, she laughed sarcastically.
“Hardee har.” The two sat back and joked a little, but both of them wondered secretly in the back of their minds what the other thought about them.
Fighting History by Lily6161
Story Notes:
Hello everyone! I came up with this when I was... sleeping. I had a dream.
Chapter Notes: Hey, thanks for reading! By the way, this is Jo's except for Zaire and other random OCs.
Chapter Endnotes: Thanks for reading! I will update as soon as i can! In the meantime, that little box needs some TLC!