Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon. Harry Potter and company to JK Rowling. I'm just flattering through poor, poor imitation. All fun, no profit.

AN: This is me. This is me on the bandwagon. I've got to admit, I'm writing this for one reason and one reason only. And if I get to the scene that I'm dying to write, then you'll know the reason, too.

The timeline for HP is after book five, for Buffy after season two. Things might get jiggled around some, but hey, that's what fanfiction is all about.

A Bicycle in the Family Tree

Prologue

Draco Malfoy sat at the head of the table reading the Daily Prophet. Actually, he was only pretending to read it, instead bypassing the text for the far more interesting picture of his father being led away by aurors. He watched Lucius struggle, manage to free one arm, and quickly be subdued by means that looked decidedly muggle. And painful. Lucius certainly seemed convinced. The picture looped and began anew. Struggle, escape, capture. Defeat.

Draco made an attempt to delve deep into his emotions, the ones he usually kept under tight control. He found himself to be out of practice. What was he feeling? The picture looped. Struggle, escape, capture, defeat. Again. Struggle, escape, capture, defeat. Struggle, escape, capture-.

"We're free."

Startled, Draco looked away from the paper and across the impossibly long table at his mother. She sat, tall and proud in her usual seat, watching the son sit in his father's place.

"Free to what? Become social lepers? The laughing stock of the wizarding world?"

Draco knew he sounded bitter. He felt bitter. An emotion, at least, and one he was familiar with. Narcissa continued as if he had said nothing.

"Finally, we are free. Free to live our own lives, separate from the plans of your father and He-Who. . . and-Voldemort."

Draco winced at the name, then scowled at his own cowardice.

"Don't give me that face, Draco," said Narcissa. "I know you better than you think. I know you never had any intention to. . . to join forces with him."

"You don't know anything," he said. Struggle, he thought. Narcissa waited him out with a perfectly arched brow. "Well, no, I wasn't going to join father and You-Know-Who, exactly. But it wasn't for any noble reason. No pursuit of truth, beauty, and all that. It was going to be a thing. A statement. Show that bloody Potter that anyone can defy the dark lord."

"You were going to risk certain death to show up Harry Potter?"

"Yes! It was going to be a grand gesture. Think of it, just imagine. . . Draco Malfoy is redeemed. Turns to good. Fights He-Who-Cannot-Be-Named. Marries a mud-bl-a muggleborn. And then nobody would even remember the Prat-Who-Lived."

"Oh? And what muggleborn would you be marrying?"

A hint of red appeared high on his cheeks. Escape.

"No one. You're missing the point. Because of father's arrest, now the gesture is crap. The purity's gone out of it. Now it's just scared little Draco switching side to save his own arse. Probably Saint Potter would welcome me with open arms, rise above past hurts and all that rot. Bloody-"

"It's no good, Draco. I know you."

Narcissa stood and made her way towards him. "I know how you've struggled to balance out what your father told you and what you know to be right. I know how you feel, like half of a whole."

Draco shot up. "I do not," he yelled, the red coming back with a vengeance. "I'm twice the man Potter is! I'm worth ten times what he is!"

"Stop," said Narcissa, placing a hand on Draco's cheek and turning his head to face hers. Gray eyes met green, and Draco stilled. "You feel like a part of you is missing. This is not a fault in you. This is Lucius' doing."

"What do you mean?"

"The night you came into the world, there was not one child born, but two."

Draco laughed uneasily and pulled away from Narcissa. "A twin? Please, mother, spare me the long-lost relative tale."

"It's the truth."

"Well, where is he then? Eating fish heads in the attic?"

"Not he. She. A little girl."

Narcissa paused, a faraway look in her eyes.

"A girl. Right. So where is this bundle of joy?"

"Your father didn't want a girl, he wanted to kill her. Because she came first, by minutes."

Draco's confusion must have shown, because Narcissa clarified.

"Lucius couldn't bear the idea of his eldest being a girl. He wanted a boy to be the heir."

Draco shook his head.

"This is. . . a lot to take in. And you still haven't told me where she is. If Lucius wanted to kill her-"

"I wouldn't let him. I couldn't. I had her smuggled out by a house elf. I haven't seen either of them since."

"Fantastic. They're both probably dead."

"She's not dead," said Narcissa, hand over her heart. "She's not."

"Fine."

Draco realized that at some point during the conversation he had begun clenching his fists. Trying to relax, he sat back down and placed his hands palm down on the table. The Daily Prophet lay between them, the picture of Lucius hidden from view.

"If you don't know where she is, how will you find her?"

Narcissa smiled and picked up Draco's hand. She kissed his palm.

"Magic," she said, bringing his palm to her cheek. Capture, thought Draco.

His thoughts looped. Struggle, escape, capture. . .

A sister.

Struggle.

A victim of his father.

Escape.

A half of his whole.

Capture.

"My beautiful baby girl," said Narcissa, staring at Draco while clearly seeing something else.

Defeat? Freedom?

Draco felt a distinct emotion. Another he was quite familiar with.

Jealousy.

AN again: Well, it's not exactly what I had in mind. Lots of dialogue and the inevitable set up. Hopefully things will get funnier, too. I haven't decided yet whether I'm going to progress step-by-step or jump straight into some Hogwart's action. Suggestions are welcome. Also having major spacing issues. Help incredibly welcome.

~Eris~