Chapter Text
Later, Druella sat in the Great Hall for lunch, sharing a meal with Draco, his voice broke the comfortable silence. "I'm glad we're going to be in class together, you know I know I said those things earlier, but I am glad," he grumbled, though there was an edge to his tone that Druella couldn't quite place. She glanced at him but didn't respond, unsure of how to break the tension that still lingered between them. Words didn't seem necessary, so she focused on her food instead.
Suddenly, the owl post arrived, and a flurry of owls swooped down into the hall, delivering letters and parcels to the students. As expected, the Malfoy owl, Vigil, dropped off packages for the two of them. The care packages from Narcissa and Lucius were quickly noticed. Lucius's gifts were, as always, exclusively for Draco, leaving Druella to focus on her own.
Her first care package was from Narcissa, and as soon as the wrapping was removed, Druella's eyes softened with a small smile. The package was filled with familiar comforts: a large assortment of taffy in various bright flavours, her favourite Chocolate Frogs, and a tin of Narcissa's homemade biscuits—golden, flaky, and dusted with just the right amount of sugar. There were also a few small trinkets, a knitted scarf in a soft, pastel green that Narcissa had likely made herself, and a small, delicate charm bracelet that jingled softly when she picked it up. Though the items were undeniably thoughtful, they also had the distinct air of things meant for a much younger girl, far younger than Druella's age. It was a mix of affection and overprotection, a reminder of Narcissa's tendency to coddle her, treating her as though she were still a child.
Druella smiled at the treats, feeling a warmth in her chest from the love they represented, but it was hard to ignore the feeling that they were meant to keep her in a constant state of innocence—shielded, pampered, perhaps even too much so. But this time, she was thankful because she tried with Druella.
As she set the items aside to make room for Draco's much louder display, she noticed that his package from Lucius had already been torn open, and Draco was beaming with pride. His smug grin was impossible to miss as he flaunted his new broom accessory, his voice cutting through the chatter of the hall.
"Well, well, well, look what I've got," Draco boasted loudly, waving a small box for all to see. His eyes gleamed with pride as he leaned across the table toward Harry, clearly eager to flaunt his gift. "Father says I'm going to need this if I want to keep up with the best this year." He opened the box, revealing a sleek new accessory for his broom. "An upgrade for my broom! This'll make me even faster. I'm practically unstoppable now."
Draco's declaration was met with murmurs of approval from the Slytherins nearby, each one praising his father's generosity. He picked up the small box, showing it off even more, then glanced at Ron with a sly sneer. "And not to worry, Weasley," he added, voice dripping with disdain, "I'm sure your father will scrape together enough galleons to buy you a new wand... though it won't be anything like this." He raised the box higher, making sure everyone noticed it was a gift from Lucius.
But Draco wasn't finished yet. He continued, opening the larger package from Lucius, revealing a beautifully embroidered jacket, a tailored set of robes, and a collection of high-end broom care accessories. "Father really knows how to spoil me," he added, his smirk growing wider.
Druella, on the other hand, rolled her eyes at Draco's attention-seeking antics. She had never shared his need to show off, nor did she care for the constant eyes of admiration that followed him. As she stared down at the table, hoping to avoid further attention, another owl swooped in—this time, Nyx, Bellatrix's owl, delivered a large parcel for Druella. She jumped slightly at the unexpected arrival but quickly shifted her gaze to the table, hoping to remain unnoticed.
The curious eyes of the Slytherins at the nearby tables immediately shifted toward her. The ever-perfect Prefect, Esme, leaned in with a smug smile, eager to make the moment public. "Look, everyone, Black's got a huge parcel from her family! Let's see what it is!" Esme called out, her voice carrying across the room louder than necessary. Her excitement was palpable as she tried to draw as much attention to Druella as possible.
Druella's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as the crowd grew larger around her. She tried to protest, but it was no use. A small group of Slytherins had gathered around her, their whispers like a low hum, filling the air with murmurs of curiosity. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, and Susan came as well.
Clearly uncomfortable with all the attention, she tried to ignore the growing crowd and glanced over at Draco. He was still seated next to her, completely oblivious to the attention on her, thinking the admiration was all for him. He boasted about the smaller parcel in his hands, leaning toward everyone, repeating his gift bragging to anyone who would listen. "These are gifts from Father. Says I've got to keep up the pace, and it looks like I'm getting something good this year," Draco said, grinning proudly, completely unaware that the whispers weren't about him.
The crowd around Druella, however, was not so interested in Draco's boasting. Instead, their eyes were fixed on her parcel, which was still neatly wrapped with a glimmering silver ribbon. The parcel was unusually large, and the ornate wrapping caught the light in a way that only seemed to heighten the curiosity around her.
"Oi, Malfoy," Fred called out from the crowd, his voice dripping with mischief. "I think they're all looking at your cousin, mate, not you."
George chimed in, a smirk evident on his face. "Yeah, I don't think your broom accessory is the big deal here."
Draco's smug grin faltered as the realisation hit him, his eyes darting around as he finally understood where the attention was focused. He looked at Druella, confusion crossing his face.
"Wait, they're looking at you?" Draco said, raising an eyebrow, clearly annoyed but trying to recover his composure.
"Look, it's nothing," Druella explained, her voice barely audible above the excited buzz of whispers. But her attempt to downplay the situation was lost, and the crowd only seemed to grow larger. "Look, it's nothing really. I don't like to brag or get this kind of attention. I'd rather keep my gifts private," Druella continued, trying to avoid the situation.
Ginny, however, was undeterred. "No, Black, let's see what your little gift is," she sneered, her voice dripping with mockery. There was no hiding the jealousy in her tone.
The crowd around them grew louder, but it wasn't just Ginny who had a comment. Ron, standing a few feet away, shot a playful glance at Harry, raising an eyebrow. "Seems like someone's really special now, doesn't it?" he muttered, his tone teasing. "Moving up a year and getting all the attention... Looks like you have some competition now, Harry."
Hermione smirked, but there was a touch of admiration in his voice. "Not sure it's exactly like that, Ron. Seems like she didn't ask for it, but you know how these things go. People can't help but stare when someone else gets noticed. For their hard work and finally being praised after growing up with Lucius."
Fred and George Weasley were not about to miss an opportunity to tease Druella in the chaos. The twins made their way through the crowd with ease, both of them flashing mischievous grins. Fred leaned in toward Druella, his voice light and teasing. "Oi, Black, looks like you've got a crowd following you now," he said, glancing at the gift. "Didn't know you were this popular. We should start taking notes on you to see how to get all this attention."
George, ever the supportive brother, nudged Fred and winked at Druella. "Watch out, Druella, you might have to start hiring a bodyguard with all this popularity," he said with a grin. The playful banter made Druella feel oddly at ease in the chaos, her cheeks still warm but her embarrassment starting to fade.
Hermione, always the kind one, added with a warm smile, "If you need any help, we'll show you some pointers. Maybe being moved up a year isn't such a bad thing after all." Her voice was sincere, and there was no trace of mockery—just genuine support in her words. She had always been someone who believed in lifting others up, no matter what house they were from.
Druella looked at her, surprised by the sincerity in Hermione's eyes. For a moment, she felt a sense of camaraderie between them, even though they came from such different backgrounds. Hermione's brilliance had always been apparent, but now, as both of them found themselves at the top of their respective classes, there was a mutual respect growing between them.
Druella gave a small, appreciative nod, feeling a surprising warmth spread through her at the kindness they had shown her. "Thanks, Hermione," she murmured, a hint of gratitude in her voice. She was accustomed to the tension and drama, but this was different. It was... comforting, strange to her.
Druella couldn't help but feel a little impressed. Looking at Harry Potter, whom she had heard so many great stories about. The Boy Who Lived himself, Harry Potter, was starting to become one of her best friends. Her previous worries about being isolated seemed to be slowly fading with each passing moment.
Draco, who had been mostly ignoring the chaos, suddenly shifted in his seat. His voice was low, but still audible enough for Druella to hear. "Honestly, what's all this fuss about?" he muttered, his tone tinged with jealousy. "She didn't even do anything, but read a few books, hate calling her a prodigy and took a test; now they're all fawning over her."
Druella turned back to her new friends, feeling a little more confident despite Draco's protests. With the Weasleys, Hermione and Harry Potter himself by her side, she didn't feel so alone in the chaos anymore.
George grinned, adding, "Yeah, maybe we'll get a special gift next time, too, huh? Look at that package, it must be something really impressive. Should we open it for you?" His tone was light-hearted, but his eyes sparkled with amusement.
Druella rolled her eyes, her patience wearing thin. "No, thank you, George." She muttered. She didn't like the attention, especially when it was mixed with the usual teasing and mockery. "It's really not that big of a deal," she said, trying to ignore the gathering crowd. "I didn't ask for this, and I don't want to see myself as some kind of spoiled show-off."
Despite her words, she could feel the weight of the eyes on her, the whispers growing louder. Ginny, clearly irritated, pushed even closer, her voice sharp. "Oh, I'm sure you didn't ask for it, but here you are, getting everything handed to you like a silver spoon," she snapped, her jealousy seeping through.
Druella gave Ginny a cold look, but before she could respond, Fred piped up again. "Oi, Ginny, maybe you're just jealous. Can't blame her for getting all the perks, right?" His teasing tone made Ginny scowl, but Druella could feel the heat rise in her cheeks from the constant attention.
Ron, on the other hand, leaned in with a grin. "Looks like you've got a fan club now, Druella," he said, his tone light and teasing. "Like Harry, you seem to have a way of getting popular without even trying. If you ever get bored with your jealous cousin Malfoy, we could always take over as your main friends. You could be the fourth member of our group—he's just a big, sulking prat anyway."
He nudged her shoulder playfully, clearly enjoying the moment. "Malfoy's all puffed up with his little tantrums. Who needs that when you could hang out with us?"
However, his grin faded quickly as Druella shot him an exasperated look, her cheeks flushed even more. She wasn't in the mood for more teasing, especially not about Draco. Ron, realising he'd gone a bit too far, offered a sheepish grin, his voice softening. "But seriously, if you need anything, we've got your back, Druella."
Druella sighed, trying to keep a straight face but secretly appreciating his support. "Thanks, Ronald," she muttered, though the flush on her cheeks didn't quite go away.
The teasing continued as the crowd hovered, each voice a mix of admiration and sarcasm. It felt like Druella was at the centre of the universe. She just wanted the crowd to dissipate, to let her enjoy the moment in peace. But that was never going to happen with so many curious eyes on her.
But as the whispers escalated, Druella couldn't help but feel the weight of the moment, of being the one everyone was watching now.
Druella, meanwhile, rolled her eyes, wishing the ground would swallow her up. Ginny Weasley, standing on the other side, her arms folded, shot Druella a smug look before turning to Draco, sneering, "Of course they're looking at her. Another term skipped, and now she's getting all the attention. Must be nice, Black."
Druella's eyes narrowed, her irritation palpable. "Weasley..." she muttered, but Ginny interrupted with another sneer.
"Don't even act like you're not enjoying all of this, Black," Ginny spat, her jealousy clear as she pushed closer, trying to get a better view of Druella's parcel.
Druella gave an exasperated sigh, her patience already worn thin. The whole situation felt like a spectacle, and she was growing tired of it. But she kept her composure, knowing there was no way to escape the attention now.
"Fine, if it'll get you all to leave, I'll open it," Druella muttered, her voice laced with a mix of annoyance and reluctance. She carefully unwrapped the box, revealing a series of extravagant items from her mother and aunt, each one more elaborate than the last.
The first item she opened was from her aunt: a delicate, porcelain doll, clothed in intricate, tiny robes. Fred couldn't help but laugh, "A doll? Wow, your aunt really knows you well."
Druella flushed a deep shade of pink, feeling a rush of embarrassment. She loved the doll but then hastily moved to the next gift. It was a lullaby music box, its silver surface glistening in the light. When she opened it, the soft, melodic tune that played was the very lullaby that both her mother and aunt used to sing to her when she was younger. It stirred memories of comfort and warmth, making her momentarily forget the teasing around her.
A few students laughed at the sentimentality of the gifts, but others were clearly impressed by the love that Druella clearly received from her family. She picked up the next item, a finely crafted collar for Morgana, with a delicate engraving that read, "For Morgana, from the Malfoy family, a true Black." The collar's beauty and intricate details made her feel a sense of pride. She glanced at the others, secretly glad her aunt's gifts weren't all 'baby stuff.'
The gifts from her mother were next. The first was a customised wand holder, its sleek, dark wood curled with elegant dark green swirls around the base. The curves and etchings spoke to her mother's sophisticated taste. Beneath it, Druella found a set of fine quills and an elaborate potion kit, filled with rare ingredients and carefully crafted vials. It was clear her mother had gone to great lengths to ensure she had the best magical tools for her studies. Even with an allowance of Galleons, she read the note from her mother. She finally trusted her to buy her own things.
Then came a specialised spellbook—one that stood out from the rest. Its cover was a deep, rich shade of green, with intricate silver filigree patterns etched across it. The book was filled with advanced charms and detailed magical theories, clearly chosen for Druella's growing skill and intellect.
As she reached into the box again, her fingers brushed against something smooth and cool. She pulled out a set of glittering crystals—beautifully cut, each one sparkling with inner light. These were followed by a selection of carefully crafted trinkets for her hair, each one delicately designed with elegant swirls and fine craftsmanship, perfect for the occasions where she needed to present herself with poise and grace.
As she reached into the box again, her fingers brushed against something smooth and cool. She drew out a dagger—sleek, ceremonial, and unmistakably regal. The hilt was carved from emerald-green serpentine stone, inlaid with the Black family crest in silver. It gleamed in the light, elegant yet deadly, humming faintly with ancient enchantments.
A folded parchment sat beside it.
“To my daughter—the Prodigy of Slytherin. This belonged to your grandfather, Cygnus Black III. It is yours now, as it was always meant to be.”
Her breath caught. This wasn’t just a gift—it was a declaration. An heirloom passed down for generations, now entrusted to her not by obligation, but by merit.
“I was supposed to get that,” Draco hissed under his breath, his eyes locked on the dagger.
“Well, it’s hers,” Fred said flatly, stepping in without hesitation. “She earned it.”
Draco looked away, scowling.
Druella couldn't help but feel a deep sense of appreciation as she looked at the gifts laid out before her. Despite the teasing, each item reflected the love and thoughtfulness her mother and aunt had poured into them, reminding her that even when the world around her felt cold, she had a family that cared deeply for her.
"Can't say I've ever gotten a doll for my birthday," Ron remarked, trying to hide his own amusement at the sight. "Must be nice."
Hermione stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. "You can mock her gifts all you like, but anyone with eyes can see that her family loves her," she said firmly, her voice carrying an edge that silenced at the group for a moment. Fred raised his hands in mock surrender. "We're just having a bit of fun, Hermione. But seriously, look at that wand belt! Even I'm impressed."
Druella couldn't help but smile at the compliment. The belt wand holder was indeed beautiful—sleek, silver, with dark green swirls that matched her favourite colours.
"Hey, speaking of gifts," Fred continued, eyeing the collection on the table, "Where's the one from your dear old uncle, Lucius?"
The room seemed to grow colder, and it went silent as every eye turned toward Druella. She hesitated, feeling the weight of their gazes on her. There was no gift from her uncle—none at all. Only a deep, empty silence where the respect and affection from a family should be.
"I'm sure he had his reasons for not sending anything," Hermione sputtered, stepping between Druella and the now-watching crowd. "Maybe he's too busy with... other things."
But the comment lingered uncomfortably in the air, causing Fred's teasing smile to fade.
"Yeah, I get that his obsession with his reputation might be the reason, but don't let it bother you," George reassured her, his voice softening with understanding. "Not everyone has the same taste, and that's okay." Druella smiled softly at his words; she really didn't mind that he hadn't gotten her anything. It wasn't the first time he hadn't remembered her birthday or Christmas, so she had grown accustomed to it.
But the room was still unsettled, murmurs rippling through the crowd.
"Maybe it's because he doesn't care enough," someone from the back of the room muttered under their breath, barely loud enough to be heard but cutting nonetheless.
Druella swallowed hard, trying to keep the sting of the words from showing on her face.
"Lucius didn't get her anything because he doesn't care," one of the students, Clearwater, added loudly enough for everyone to hear. "When I was with my parents getting my school supplies, I saw how he treated her in Diagon Alley a few weeks ago. He was awful. That lip split open? His hands were all over her—like he was trying to break her."
Druella flinched, the weight of the memory crashing into her. The harsh grip, the mocking words, the cruel laughter. She wanted to shrink into herself, to escape from the attention, but she stood still, her eyes suddenly focused on the floor.
"That's not—" Druella started, but her voice faltered. It felt like all the years of pain, all the moments of shame, had caught up with her. How could she explain? How could she make them understand?
Luna Lovegood spoke up, her voice soft but firm. "Yes, I'm afraid that he has done that. I saw it myself." Druella turned toward the voice, her eyes meeting Luna Lovegood's pale, ethereal gaze. It was Luna's stepping into the conversation, and there was a kind of quiet strength in her that Druella hadn't expected. Luna had been somewhat of an enigma to her—always floating on the outskirts of her awareness, often ridiculed by others, but she never let it break her spirit.
Druella had heard the whispers, the teasing, the way some Slytherins had now been talking in the commons had taken to calling Luna "Loony Lovegood," mocking her for her eccentricities and the oddities that defined her. But to Druella, Luna wasn't like that. If anything, she was a reflection of how unfairly they both were treated. The two of them had something in common—an isolation that came with being different, misunderstood, and maligned. And for the first time, Druella felt a pang of empathy for Luna, whose quiet strength reminded her of her own hidden pain.
As Luna spoke up about Lucius' abuse, Druella felt a shift—a flicker of something unspoken, a bond forming between them. Luna's words weren't filled with judgment or pity; they were simple, but they rang with honesty. Druella could feel the weight of her support, something she hadn't expected from someone so often dismissed by others.
But before Druella could process her thoughts fully, Hermione stepped forward again, her voice firm and unwavering. "I saw it too," she said, her words cutting through the uncomfortable silence. "Lucius was horrible to Druella, and no one should have to go through that."
The air hung heavy with tension, but in that moment, Druella found a strange sense of gratitude. For the first time, others were standing up for her, acknowledging her pain, and in Luna and Hermione's support, there was a sense of unity that made her feel less alone.
Druella's heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. Hermione's defence, though offered in quiet fury, meant more than any gift could. She glanced at Hermione, her expression softening with gratitude.
A few of the other students, including Ron, looked uncomfortable now, realising the depths of what Druella had been enduring.
As the murmurs began to die down, Fred spoke up again, his usual mischief fading. "Alright, alright, we were out of line. Not everyone's family is perfect," he said, his voice far more sombre than before. "But it's clear that whatever's going on, you've got people here who care."
George gave her a slight nod of approval. "Yeah, you're not alone, Druella."
For a moment, the room was silent, all eyes on her. And Druella realised something: the teasing, the tension, the sharp comments—they couldn't touch her as much as they once had. But she knew many of them still hate her and judge her. But she still had friends even if she felt lonely.
With a steadying breath, Druella finally lifted her gaze, meeting the eyes of her classmates. "Thanks," she murmured, her voice stronger than before.
As the awkward atmosphere slowly began to ease, the chatter resumed, but this time, it felt different. There was a shift—a realisation that Druella Black wasn't just someone who had to live in the shadow of her family. She was standing on her own, carving out her own identity, even if the scars of her past still clung to her.
And for the first time, Druella felt a glimmer of hope that she might, one day, leave those scars behind.
But the shift in attention wasn't just from the Slytherins. As the whispers grew louder, Harry glanced at Draco, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. "Hey, Malfoy, how does it feel having your cousin receive gifts more than you did?" he teased, his tone light but pointed. The comment sent a ripple through the students as Draco's smirk faltered just for a moment.
Druella flushed again, but this time, it was different. The attention wasn't on Draco anymore; it was on her. And as she stood there, still processing her mother's words, she realised something: The spotlight had shifted. From now on, it was Druella Black who was starting to make a name for herself.
She forced herself to smile, her eyes briefly meeting Draco's as he fell quiet. The crowd around her continued to murmur, but for the first time in a long while, Druella felt like she had earned their attention without even trying.
Draco looked at it, shocked and surprised. For the first time, he felt overshadowed by his cousin, whom he had thought of as just becoming the new golden child in their family. Druella might not have received anything from her uncle, but she felt an overwhelming sense of satisfaction. Draco, however, wasn't as thrilled.
He stood there, fuming as his eyes darted over the extravagant gifts Druella had received. The lavish attention she was getting—attention that he had always been the centre of—felt like a slap in the face. His pride was wounded.
Without another word, Draco stormed out of the room, his footsteps echoing sharply through the hall. Druella hesitated, a cocktail of guilt, hurt, and frustration swirling inside her before she finally followed him.
"Look, Drake, I didn’t ask for all this attention," she said, catching up with him, her voice cautious.
Draco spun around. His face twisted with something between anger and heartbreak. "Oh, please, Ellie. You’re the talk of the school now. The Slytherin Prodigy. Aunt Bella’s golden girl. Do you know what that feels like?"
Druella blinked, taken aback. "I never asked for any of this. I just—I'm trying to survive."
"Right," he snapped. "And while you're surviving, I'm over here having to explain why the entire school is whispering about my father being a monster. Do you have any idea what it’s like, hearing about his abuse from other students? Watching people pity me? My own common room won’t shut up about what he did to you. To us."
"Draco," she said softly, stepping closer, "he did it in front of you."
His expression flickered, but he didn’t speak.
"You were eight, I was seven", she continued. "He made you stand there. Watch. Remember the night he hit me so hard I spat blood on the floor? And he said, 'This is how you earn respect, my heir. Watch very closely."
Draco’s fists clenched at his sides.
"He made you say it back to him," she added, voice shaking. "‘Respect through obedience.’ That wasn’t a lesson, Draco. That was cruelty. And you knew it."
"I don’t want to talk about that!" Draco snapped, his voice raw. He turned his back to her, trying to breathe.
"And I didn’t want it to happen!" she cried, the words tumbling out like knives. "I didn’t want to be dragged by my hair across the floor! He threw me to the ground while he yelled and told me I was worthless! How I was nothing! How he wished he had thrown me out of the window when I was a toddler! Don’t act like I wanted any of this, Drake!"
Draco wheeled around again, his face pale. "Just because you don’t have a father figure doesn’t mean mine isn’t important to me."
"He neglected me my whole life, then tortured me, Draco, since I was seven!"
Silence. The corridor seemed to shrink.
"I didn’t ask for the attention," Druella said, her voice quieter now. “But I'm not going to be ashamed of working hard. I didn’t ask to skip a term. I didn’t want my abuse to be in the papers. Uncle always told me I’d live in your shadow. But now that someone noticed me… now I’m the problem?"
Draco’s jaw tightened. His eyes burned. And then his voice dropped to a venomous whisper.
"Maybe it was better when you were just the quiet cousin. No expectations. No spotlight. No pity."
Her breath caught.
He didn’t stop.
"You think you’re something special now? You’re still the daughter of a madwoman and an Azkaban lunatic. You’re a reminder of everything broken in this family. No wonder your father never writes to you. No wonder Rodolphus left. He doesn’t love you. No one does."
She froze.
His words hung in the air like a curse.
"Don’t," she whispered, her voice trembling with betrayal. "Don’t say that, Drake."
But he already had.
Draco's eyes widened as the harshness of his words settled into the space between them. The moment he spoke, he realised how far he'd gone, but the damage was already done. His throat tightened, and he opened his mouth to apologise, but the words were trapped, lodged somewhere he couldn't reach. "I—" he started, but Druella cut him off, her eyes colder than he'd ever seen them.
"Maybe Ronald was right about you," she said, her voice breaking slightly but filled with a painful clarity. "The one time I managed to do something good, you end up jealous. I should probably choose my friends more carefully... even my own cousin."
"You didn't even think before you spoke," Druella retorted, her eyes still locked on him but with a painful sadness in them now. "You think I asked for any of this? You think I didn't ask not to have a father growing up? You know how hard it is, Drake. Mother never speaks about him—he did nothing for me, rotting in Azkaban. No one ever talks about him. People assume everything's fine with me. But it's not," she said, her voice shaking with the weight of everything she'd kept hidden.
"I've had to live with his silence, his absence. I never even received a letter from him, not even a word. And you think it's easy? Seeing Uncle be so cold—he doesn't care about me, never getting me a gift growing up, not one birthday or Christmas, not one gift. Not one shred of love like he does you, and every day I have to watch that. I don't get to have that father-daughter bond everyone else takes for granted. And now you throw that in my face—how could you?"
Her voice trembled with the deep ache of years spent missing something she couldn't have, something she'd never understood. "I didn't ask for any of this. I didn't ask to be the prodigy, Drake. But you can't even be happy for me. You're too busy being jealous that I got out of your shadow. I never wanted to be like you or follow in your footsteps. But that doesn't mean I wanted to be invisible either."
Draco stood frozen, guilt gnawing at his insides. His taunts, meant to pierce, had wounded deeper than he realised. His words echoed in his ears—about how she didn't deserve attention, how she was just a little cousin with no expectations—and now they felt monstrous, like a fist to his stomach. The bitterness, the jealousy he'd never voiced to anyone but himself, had slipped out, poisoning everything in its path.
"I don't need your jealousy, Drake. I never did," Druella continued, her voice low but sharp, like the crack of ice breaking under pressure. "If you can't be happy for me this one time, if you can't at least try to understand how hard it is... then maybe you're not the person I thought you were. I thought you were my family. But you're just another person who couldn't be bothered to think before hurting me."
Druella shook her head, backing away from him. "Maybe I need time to think, too. But right now, I don't need your jealousy, Drake. I need someone who's happy for me, not trying to bring me down."
Before Druella and Draco could discuss it further, Harry and Ron appeared, standing just out of sight. Harry, ever curious, couldn't help but ask, "What was that back there, Malfoy?"
Annoyed, Draco shot back, "None of your business, Potter."
Ron, always ready to defend his friends, retorted sharply, "Don't talk to Harry like that."
"No one asked you, Weasley," Draco sneered, his tone dripping with disdain.
Druella rolled her eyes, exasperated. She was over it, all of it. The petty bickering, the constant tension between Draco and the others. It was all the same, and she'd had enough. But just as she thought it might die down, the situation escalated further. Out of nowhere, Hermione appeared.
Draco, without missing a beat, muttered, "Oh, look, it's the Mudblood."
Druella's irritation flared up instantly, and she turned to Draco with ice in her voice. "Enough, Drake. Do you want me to slap you again?" she asked, her patience threadbare.
Draco, as expected, smirked arrogantly. "I'm just assuring my dominance," he retorted with an overconfident tone.
Annoyed beyond measure, Druella picked up her book and threw it at him, hitting him squarely in the face. Draco's eyes flashed with anger, and he glared at her, reprimanding her sharply. "Wait till Father hears about this."
At the mention of Lucius, something inside Druella shifted. Her thoughts turned dark as the memory of her so-called uncle resurfaced. Lucius Malfoy—her uncle by her aunt's marriage only—had never treated her like family. Instead, he'd subjected her to years of physical and mental abuse.
She remembered the bitter sting of his slaps, the insults that made her feel worthless. Lucius had constantly reminded her that she would never live up to the Black name. She had been forced to endure his wrath, the cold, calculated words that stripped away any sense of self-worth.
But as she stood there in front of Draco, her heart hardened, and something inside her snapped. She was no longer that terrified girl hiding from Lucius's wrath. She wasn't going to let his cruelty define her anymore. Lucius Malfoy had never truly been an uncle to her—he was a monster in disguise. She was done allowing him to control her life.
Druella took a deep breath and met Draco's gaze, her voice steady but filled with resolve. "Father is not going to be pleased with you," she whispered, shaking her head. "No."
Her words cut through the tension like a knife. For the first time, she spoke with a clarity that surprised even herself. Lucius had never been there for her. He had never been a loving or supportive figure in her life. She had no reason to care about his opinion anymore.
Turning on her heel, Druella walked away, the echo of her boots sharp against the stone floor. Her heart thudded hard, but not from fear from something else.
Resolve.
But Draco’s voice came after her, dripping with rage and disbelief.
“What are you doing?” he barked, his voice cracking like a curse. “You’re really going to stand there with Potter? With that blood traitor and that Mudblood? Father will never forget this. He will never forgive you!”
She didn’t stop walking. She didn’t look back. But her voice rang out, loud enough for every student in the corridor to hear.
“I don’t care what my arrogant uncle thinks. Or what he’ll do. He was never really an uncle to me—not in any way that mattered.”
Her shoulders were square. Her chin lifted.
“Lucius Malfoy doesn’t own me. I’m not his blood, and I won’t be his shadow. I’m Druella Bellatrix Black. Daughter of Bellatrix Black. Niece—and goddaughter—of Narcissa Malfoy. Cousin to Draco Malfoy,” she turned now, meeting his eyes without flinching, “but you don't get to choose who I care about.”
She gestured calmly toward the trio waiting just down the hall—Harry, Hermione, and Ron—each of them watching, stunned and quiet.
“They're my friends now like it or not. And Mother and Aunt Narcissa won't care. They know who I am. They trust me.”
Draco’s expression twisted with fury, but it couldn’t mask the betrayal in his eyes.
“Fine then,” he spat. “Have fun, you Strays.”
His voice was laced with venom, his sneer trembling with something deeper than anger. He turned sharply on his heel, stalking off with his robes snapping behind him like a whip.
Druella didn’t watch him go.
She walked toward the trio—each of them still frozen in place, as if waiting to see if the moment was real.
It was Harry who stepped forward first.
“Druella,” he said, voice low but sincere.
She smiled faintly, a hint of nerves still there beneath her defiance—but it was real, and it was hers. “We're friends. I suppose that's what friends do. They have each other's backs.”
She paused, then added softly, “And I’ll always stand up for mine.”
Harry nodded, something grateful and almost proud flickering in his eyes. “I’m glad you did.”
Ron glanced between them and gave a crooked grin. “Well... guess ‘The Strays’ has a nice ring to it.”
Hermione rolled her eyes, but she was smiling too.
And together, the four of them walked into the library, side by side—not by blood, not by house, but by choice.
And for the first time in her life, Druella felt free.