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Love Never Dies: Hate and Peace by Madamoiselle Malfoy
Chapter 1 : Daughter to Father
 
Rating: 15+Chapter Reviews: 3


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Hello again! Here's the third one-shot in my Love Never Dies series. Again, not entirely necessary to read the first two, but it's been published in chronological order, so reading the first two may help! J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and the wizarding world, I've merely invented Evangeline and Sirius Malfoy and Killian and Davis Weasley, as well as the plot!

 

 

Evangeline had a dark secret: she harbored a hatred for her little brother. She hated him because he was so lucky: he was smart, he was fearless, he was selfless…the list went on. Everyone said Sirius Malfoy was so much like their mother, but she would have to say “Hermione Granger was my mum” and even then, they would say, “Are you sure?”

            It was Sirius who saved the family after Hermione died. It was Sirius who mended Ginny’s relationship with her son, James, and her once-again-husband, Harry Potter. It was always Sirius. Each day only made her hate him even more. True, it wasn’t his fault. But the hate was there.

            The day Sirius Malfoy had been sorted into Gryffindor, Draco cried for joy.

            “You’re so much like your mum,” he had said, and bought him a new broom to celebrate.

            Evangeline was a Ravenclaw. She wasn’t like her mum- at least, her father never told her that. Secretly, she wished once that someone would say, “You’re Hermione’s daughter. You’re just like her” but no one did. And she didn’t get a new broom her first year.

            Today, however, was the final straw. Her father had just sent her a letter, saying that, in celebration of Sirius’ midterm grades, he and Sirius would be going to Boston. Without her. Draco hadn’t written that part, but it was there. Why did Sirius get to go to Boston? He didn’t care about books…not as much as she did. He couldn’t care less about the historically rich city, so why take him? She furiously read the rest of the letter:

 

            Since Sirius and I will be gone for break, your Aunt Pansy and Uncle Ron have asked if they could take you along with them on vacation. I told them you’d be happy to go. I’m sure they will contact you soon to tell you your destination and what to pack. I’m proud of you, my little Head Girl, and I know you’ll always be representing our family in the best light.

            Love, your Father

 

            She was being sent off! Blood boiling, she crumpled the letter and stamped out of the Great Hall.


            James Potter sat at the Gryffindor table. He saw Evangeline- when did he not see her? Merlin, was she gorgeous! But so cold…always so distant. While not “officially” a couple, James truly cared for Evangeline. She just would never get close to him. She was so secretive and afraid. And if he started mentioning the ‘L’ word, forget it! She would run away. Love scared Evangeline Malfoy. He couldn’t take seeing her so unhappy. She would never cry in public, but he could tell that when he came back to the Heads Common Room after breakfast, he would find her sobbing her eyes out on the couch. He saw her toss a letter on the floor. When she left, he grabbed it and read it. So that was it. His poor girl felt unwanted. She was proud, but she wanted to feel loved. She would just never say it. But he couldn’t go and comfort her. No, that wouldn’t do. She would just accuse him of snooping and would probably whip her wand out and curse him. Another thought struck him: he would write to Aunt Pansy. She of all people would understand Evangeline.


 

            Several weeks later, Evangeline received another letter.

 

            Dearest Evangeline,

 

            I’m sure your father has already written to you, but Ron and I would love if you’d accompany us to Paris for the winter. Killian and Davis will be coming as well, but they’ll be so preoccupied with Quidditch, as Ron is taking them all over. Finding myself lonely, I wished that I had a daughter to bring along and voila! you appeared in my mind.

            If you’d rather not go, it is your choice- but please, don’t make me beg. I will go crazy surrounded by three crazy boys.

            All my Love,

            Aunt Pansy

 

            Evangeline smiled. She loved her “cousins”. Killian was a bit of a prat. He was a year older than her but they got along most of the time. Davis was a sweetheart, a Slytherin in his 4th year at Hogwarts. Uncle Ron hadn’t been very pleased, but Aunt Pansy had swayed him to being fond of Slytherins. Finally someone wanted her. Summoning a pen- even though she was supposed to be studying memory charms- she wrote her aunt back. She’d be pleased to go to Paris. Ecstatic. She would show her father and her brother. Evangeline Malfoy would always be one step ahead.

When classes were over for the day, she eagerly, she packed her belongings, awaiting the next morning when she would meet her aunt at the station in Hogsmeade, only to Apparate to France! A knock interrupted her.

“Come in!”

“It’s me, James,” he started.

“I’ll miss you,” she said unexpectedly. Really, it took both of them by surprise.

“I’ll miss you too, love.”

She didn’t cringe. Not even when he said the ‘L’ word. Not even when he kissed her gently on the mouth and helped her pack the rest of her belongings.

“So where are you off to?”

“Paris,” she replied dreamily.

“Don’t forget me when you see all of those Frenchies,” he teased.

“How could I!” she declared. “No one could be as amusing to torture as you are, Jamie.”

“That hurts,” he sighed, dramatically clutching his bosom with both hands.

“Don’t forget me when you find yourself being seduced by every witch in London over break.”

“They wouldn’t dare. They’re too afraid of the Ice Queen,” he motioned at Evangeline, “to even try.”

“Good. I’d hate to cause an eternal winter just because some girl tried to make a move on you,” she laughed. James, too, laughed as he caught her Narnia reference.

“I have a present for you…for Christmas,” James said softly, “but you may not open it until Christmas.”

Evangeline blushed crimson. A present?! No boy not related to her, no, no boy she’d ever dated had gotten her a present. Not because they didn’t want to. They would have loved to shower Evangeline with presents. They didn’t give her presents because she simply never kept them around long enough to come up with an excuse for a present. Birthdays, Christmases, and other holidays came around and Evangeline was single. The day after, she might find a new guy. But never over a holiday. She felt like a hypocrite, breaking her own rules for a guy. James wasn’t any guy though, she thought happily.

“I got you one too,” she replied shyly. “I gave it to your dad for safe keeping.”

“Why? You don’t trust me?” he laughed.

“Not in the slightest!” she retorted. “You’d probably rip open the wrappings when you got home.”

“You know me too well,” James wheezed, overcome with giggles.

They joked and packed. Before she knew it, the day had come. The day Aunt Pansy would take her to Paris…

“Evangeline!” Davis called. “Mum’s over there!”

Pansy Parkinson hadn’t aged a day. She had her dark hair, stylishly cut and layered, and wide dark eyes. Her pale skin was flawless. Her pink lips were twisted upwards in a grin as she saw her adoptive niece.

“Evangeline Malfoy, I swear you look just like your mother right now,” Pansy declared.

Evangeline filled with pride, but she said steadily, “Don’t you mean, my father?”

“Well, sure you look like him too. But right now, you remind me of Hermione. Your hair, frazzled as you accomplish your mission. Not to mention your eyes. Honey brown, round and full. Those are Hermione’s eyes,” Pansy said proudly.

“Really?”

“Really,” Pansy smiled, giving Evangeline a hug. “Now, are you ready for Paris?”

She nodded eagerly.

“Ron! Ron, Evangeline’s here. Get Killian and Davis together!” Pansy shouted. She may have been named after a flower, but that façade quickly vanished. She was as strong as a sergeant and as loud as a banshee if she wanted to be.

“I see you’re all in one piece,” Killian yawned.

“I see you’re still a prat,” Evangeline shot back.

“Potter keeping you company still?”

“You mean, your cousin James?” she taunted.

“Yep, that’s the one.”

“We’re friendly,” Evangeline shrugged.

            “That’s not what I’ve been hearing,” he sniggered.

            “Found a job yet, Killian?” she shot.

            “I’m working on it.”

            “That’s not what I’ve been hearing,” she mimicked.

            Done arguing, Evangeline gave Killian a hug.

            “It’s good to see you again,” she smiled.

            “You too, Vana, you too.”

            The use of her nickname sent Evangeline rolling back to the past. Her mum had called her that when she was coaxing Evangeline to do something.

            “Vana,” she’d say, “would you be a dear and fetch the owl?”

            “How about you practice the piano today, Vana? Then we’ll get some ice cream afterwards.”

            Vana had been her name when her mother was alive. When Hermione died, Vana died too. There was only Evangeline. So to hear that nickname was startling to the blonde. Fortunately, Ron was always there to interrupt her thoughts.

            “Evangeline, you look so much older now! So mature…so like Hermione,” Ron beamed.

            Pansy gave her eyes as if to say, ‘See, I told you!’

            “I’ll bet if you didn’t have blonde hair, you’d look just like her too.”

            That put a thought in her head. She missed her mum so much. Everyone had thought Sirius was the mummy’s boy, but this was her chance. Her chance to become Vana again, her chance to get her mum back.

            “Would you, Aunt Pansy?”

            “Would I what, love?” she clucked absentmindedly.

            “Would you dye my hair brown like Mum’s? Not permanently, of course, but just for the trip?”

            Pansy nodded with a smile. With a flash, she’d uttered a color-changing charm and offered Evangeline a mirror. She looked like her mum.

            “Are we ready to go now?” Killian called out.

            Pansy smacked him on the back of his head.

            “What was that for?” he asked furiously.

            “Be polite,” she replied tartly. He rolled his eyes. Pansy shot a hex at him and he found his tongue attached to the roof of his mouth.

            He gestured pleadingly to his father, who looked around anxiously. Pansy’s eyes narrowed.

            “Don’t you dare think of undoing my hex, Ronald Weasley, or I’ll do the same to you,” she warned.

            “Merlin, you sound like my mum,” he muttered.

            The cab ride to their hotel in Paris was very silent. Both Killian and Ron’s tongues were glued to the roofs of their mouths. Pansy smiled, satisfied, while Davis looked terrified.

            I’m next, he mouthed to Evangeline in horror.

            She shook her head. Pansy would never do that to her baby boy. He looked so much like her, dark haired and dark eyed. He had the Weasley freckles, but he’d thankfully avoided the Weasley hair, unlike Killian, whose hair was a mix between red and brown- auburn.

            “So I was thinking that we could hit the Champs-Elysees first,” Pansy told Evangeline, “and look at the Muggle shops first. They have some of first-rate shops there and I fancy a new purse.”

            “That sounds fun.”

            “Then we can go to La Lune Ouverte afterwards. It’s like a French version of Diagon Alley, only much nicer,” Pansy explained.

            Evangeline nodded her assent. Pansy unglued the tongues of her husband and elder son. While they were quite put out, they didn’t dare argue again in fear of the terrifying witch. Davis sat quietly, avoiding his mother’s stare.

            “I’ll, erm, be taking the boys to see the Cannons play the Marchands de Marseilles then,” Ron stuttered.  

            “Your loss. There are a lot of car dealerships on the Champs-Elysees,” Pansy informed.

            Ron’s eyes widened thoughtfully, but then he remembered his wife had a notorious reputation for buying out entire stores, forcing him to carry the bags back.

            “It’s ok. I’ll just take the boys to see the Quidditch game,” he shrugged.

            “Fine.”

            After they left, Pansy cried gleefully, “Oh I’m so glad they didn’t come along! We’ll just have to bring a few bellboys.”

            Their vacation went splendidly. Longing for a daughter, Pansy bought loads of purses, clothing, and jewels for her niece. Evangeline basked in the comfort of having a pseudo-mother. They lounged about in bikinis at the Cote D’Azure, went several times to the Louvre to study Greek statues, visited the infamous Shakespeare’s Bookstore near Notre Dame, and ate plenty of gelato. At night, they took river boat cruises past the Eiffel Tower and ate at superb restaurants. The boys developed a new appreciation for French Quidditch players- Killian decided to worship Marseilles after they crushed the Cannons, while Davis found a new love for the team from Normandy. All in all, it was a relaxing time.

            To Evangeline’s dismay, they were to leave the day after Christmas. A surprise, Pansy had said, was waiting at their house. So Christmas day passed. They dined on traditional French holiday foods, opened presents, and sang horribly out of key. It was only after everyone had gone to bed that Evangeline pulled out the parcel James had given her.

Wrapped in silver paper, it looked like it was probably a book. Delicately, she unwrapped the package. It was a book. But when she opened it, she found it was a hollow compartment. Lying in the bottom of the compartment was a note and a compact mirror.

Dear Evangeline,

            Merry Christmas! I know this must appear very odd to you, but trust me, I didn’t just give you a hollowed out book and a compact mirror. The book will only open for you, so you can hide whatever treasure you want to in there. As for the mirror, open it and say this: James, wake up.

 

“James, wake up,” Evangeline whispered.

“God, it’s about time you opened it,” James’ voice said.

“Where are you?” she frowned.

“In the mirror, of course. It’s a special mirror designed to enable us to contact each other. My grandfather and his best friend had two similar ones, apparently. They ended up saving my dad’s life,” James shrugged.

“It’s brilliant, James. Thanks!”

“I liked the books you got me. Faulkner was a rather odd fellow, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, he was. I’m tired though, so I’ll just see you in a few days.”

“Alright, love. Sleep well. By the way, I love what you did to your hair.”

“You do?” she blushed.

James nodded emphatically.

She blushed even more.


 


 

The next morning, Pansy roused the troops and took them to the Portkey. They arrived in front of Malfoy Manor.

“Evangeline!” Sirius cried happily, hopping towards the bunch.

“What did you do to your hair?!” he cried in alarm.

“I dyed it,” she shrugged. She always played it cool around her brother.

Truth be told, Sirius thought it looked funny. He always pictured his sister as a blonde. To find her back as a brunette blew his orderly world away, something he didn’t quite like. Shrugging the feeling away, Sirius showed his sister some of the pictures they’d taken in Boston. Pansy slipped away to find Draco.

“Thanks for taking her, Pans,” Draco said simply.

“It was no problem. But you can’t avoid her forever,” she pointed out.

“I know…but it’s been hard lately.”

“Why?”

“Every time I see her, I think of her mum. I can’t help it. And now, with the hair!” Draco buried his head in his hands.

“You’ve got to get over that, Draco. Evangeline needs her parents. Since she can’t have her mum, she needs you even more. You can’t put her aside. Remember how you felt when Lucius avoided you? Once the war ended? It irritated you. You wanted to know what was wrong, why he didn’t care about you anymore. Now you’re doing the same thing to your only daughter. Don’t push her away, Draco. She might not come back if you do that. Or I might steal her.”

“She can’t think that I don’t love her!”

“She does. It’s your actions, not your thoughts, that matter most now Drake.”

Pansy left Draco with those words, calling her ‘heathens’ as she said, telling them to say goodbye.

That night Draco called Evangeline into his study.

“Yes?” she asked stiffly.

“I saved your present so that I could give it to you,” Draco replied softly. He gave her a small box.

It was a book titled The Tales of Beedle the Bard.

“It was given to her by Professor Dumbledore. She wanted you to have it, you know. She left you a note at the end.”

Evangeline looked speechless.

“You know, you’re her daughter through and through. She’d be so proud of you. Maybe even prouder than I am of you.” Draco kissed his daughter on the head and left the study, leaving Evangeline alone.

 

Dearest Evangeline,

            Happy Christmas, sweetheart! This must be an exciting year for you. I bet you’re Head Girl- I was too when I returned to Hogwarts. You are so smart, so beautiful and so gifted. I wish I’d been even the smallest bit like you when I was younger. I’m sorry I’m not going to be there to see you graduate, Vana, but I know you’ll make me proud in life. Still aiming to be a Healer? I can see you doing that. I can also see you as an Auror, or as a professional Quidditch player! Anything you put your mind to you can excel at.

            This is a present meant for you and only you. Not Sirius, not Draco. You. I received the copy from my dearest mentor, Albus Dumbledore, the summer before what should have been my 7th year. Now I pass it on to you. Enjoy the tales; don’t take them too seriously- although I suggest you talk to Harry about the Tale of the Three Brothers. Now that is an engaging story! I love you, my sweet daughter, and know that no matter what, I am always with you. Keep making me proud.

Love,

Mum

 

            A single tear dropped down from Evangeline’s face. Stuck permanently on the inside cover was a picture of her and her mum. She was seven then, and had just lost her front teeth. A phrase was scrawled next to it: See, even then we were twins and we always will be. Her mother had covered her front teeth with black gum.

            At that moment, Evangeline’s hatred of Sirius slipped away. No matter what anyone said, even her father, she would know deep down that she and her mother were the same. Her mother knew it and she knew it. No one else needed to know. She’d reached inner peace after five years.

 

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