****
"I'll get you, and your little dog too!" screeched Leah Malfoy, in an exact
imitation of the Wicked Witch of the West from the Muggle movie "The Wizard
of Oz."
"No, never! You'll never take Harriette from me!" defended her little sister, Rachel. "I love Harriette. And just like Harry Potter's mother saved him, I'll save Harriette! Just go away, Wicked Witch."
Leah, in mock contemplation, rested on her haunches as Rachel scampered backwards towards the back end of her bed, her doll Harriette lodged between the protective seven year old and the wall. "Well, if you are willing to save Harriette as Harry's mother saved him, I guess she's special enough. I will let you keep her."
"Really, Wicked Witch?" Rachel asked, beaming, as if her defeat of the Wicked Witch were on par with David's defeat of Goliath. "Am I that strong and scary?"
"Indeed, Rachel. I heard some scary things about you from the other Witches who I play mah jong with on Sundays - they said you take your older sister's diary sometimes and read it, and that you have been known to pull on Pooches' ears a lot, even AFTER he starts whimpering," answered Leah.
"Leah, you're so silly," responded Rachel, breaking the charade. She scampered to the floor and sat next to her older sister. "That was fun. What're we going to play next?"
"In a little while, Rachel. We'll play in a little while," Leah whispered, getting up from the floor. She looked adoringly at her younger sister, the one constant in her life. These instances of silliness were few and far between since Leah had received her invitation to attend Hogwarts one year ago. Summer hols were in full swing, and she was babysitting her younger sister as she did most breaks.
Her father had burrowed himself in his office at Widikul Enterprises, the first such venture of it's a kind, an attempted cooperation between two conglomerates - one Muggle, the other her father's third child, as he liked to refer to it (and his favorite, as Leah liked to refer to it), a business in the wizarding world, simply entitled Malfoy. Her mother, on the other hand, had many obligations to her astoundingly large, and at the moment, ailing, extended family, along with other social causes. And as her parents had put it to her, Rachel asked about her all the time, and babysitting would allow the siblings to spend time with each other while freeing up even MORE time for the older Malfoys to pursue their own interests.
Of course, these interests never included each other, Leah noticed wryly. They barely talked, and in all the years she could remember, her parents had never sat down to have a decent conversation that did not end in a fight. In the great scheme of things though, Draco and Ginny Weasley-Malfoy did have a very reliable marriage, almost like that one tree you stand under at a bus stop on especially sweltering, sunny days - the kind you don't notice until it gets cut down.
"Gods, Leah, you zone out too easily," chastised a very frustrated Rachel, stomping out of her room, towards the kitchen, no doubt to fetch herself some homemade Butterbeer (if, provided, your definition of homemade is something conjured up by a father buried under ten feet of paperwork in lieu of taking his girls out to the ButterShoppe.)
Leah did not like to think about the status of her parents' marriage, but sometimes when a metaphorical three-headed dog stares you in the face, you need to acknowledge it. They were not happy. The dimwitted wizarding press, of course, could not, because the Malfoys made all the right appearances, spewing all the blurbs fit for print by the wizarding tabloids. And she thought of how she fit into the equation; if only she herself, Leah, had not been conceived, her parents would never have had to marry and their lives would have been drastically different - dare she say, happy? Whereas Leah had been the mistake, Rachel had been a happy surprise, in Leah's mind. The piece Draco and Ginny had never known they had needed to complete the puzzle - solidify the appearance of a happy family.
Quite simply, her existence on this very Earth had caused the Malfoy family's woes, for without her, there would have never been a Malfoy family.
"No, never! You'll never take Harriette from me!" defended her little sister, Rachel. "I love Harriette. And just like Harry Potter's mother saved him, I'll save Harriette! Just go away, Wicked Witch."
Leah, in mock contemplation, rested on her haunches as Rachel scampered backwards towards the back end of her bed, her doll Harriette lodged between the protective seven year old and the wall. "Well, if you are willing to save Harriette as Harry's mother saved him, I guess she's special enough. I will let you keep her."
"Really, Wicked Witch?" Rachel asked, beaming, as if her defeat of the Wicked Witch were on par with David's defeat of Goliath. "Am I that strong and scary?"
"Indeed, Rachel. I heard some scary things about you from the other Witches who I play mah jong with on Sundays - they said you take your older sister's diary sometimes and read it, and that you have been known to pull on Pooches' ears a lot, even AFTER he starts whimpering," answered Leah.
"Leah, you're so silly," responded Rachel, breaking the charade. She scampered to the floor and sat next to her older sister. "That was fun. What're we going to play next?"
"In a little while, Rachel. We'll play in a little while," Leah whispered, getting up from the floor. She looked adoringly at her younger sister, the one constant in her life. These instances of silliness were few and far between since Leah had received her invitation to attend Hogwarts one year ago. Summer hols were in full swing, and she was babysitting her younger sister as she did most breaks.
Her father had burrowed himself in his office at Widikul Enterprises, the first such venture of it's a kind, an attempted cooperation between two conglomerates - one Muggle, the other her father's third child, as he liked to refer to it (and his favorite, as Leah liked to refer to it), a business in the wizarding world, simply entitled Malfoy. Her mother, on the other hand, had many obligations to her astoundingly large, and at the moment, ailing, extended family, along with other social causes. And as her parents had put it to her, Rachel asked about her all the time, and babysitting would allow the siblings to spend time with each other while freeing up even MORE time for the older Malfoys to pursue their own interests.
Of course, these interests never included each other, Leah noticed wryly. They barely talked, and in all the years she could remember, her parents had never sat down to have a decent conversation that did not end in a fight. In the great scheme of things though, Draco and Ginny Weasley-Malfoy did have a very reliable marriage, almost like that one tree you stand under at a bus stop on especially sweltering, sunny days - the kind you don't notice until it gets cut down.
"Gods, Leah, you zone out too easily," chastised a very frustrated Rachel, stomping out of her room, towards the kitchen, no doubt to fetch herself some homemade Butterbeer (if, provided, your definition of homemade is something conjured up by a father buried under ten feet of paperwork in lieu of taking his girls out to the ButterShoppe.)
Leah did not like to think about the status of her parents' marriage, but sometimes when a metaphorical three-headed dog stares you in the face, you need to acknowledge it. They were not happy. The dimwitted wizarding press, of course, could not, because the Malfoys made all the right appearances, spewing all the blurbs fit for print by the wizarding tabloids. And she thought of how she fit into the equation; if only she herself, Leah, had not been conceived, her parents would never have had to marry and their lives would have been drastically different - dare she say, happy? Whereas Leah had been the mistake, Rachel had been a happy surprise, in Leah's mind. The piece Draco and Ginny had never known they had needed to complete the puzzle - solidify the appearance of a happy family.
Quite simply, her existence on this very Earth had caused the Malfoy family's woes, for without her, there would have never been a Malfoy family.