prologue

        Malfoy Manor has always been a place of doom and gloom. Since the day it was built, Malfoy Manor was made to look and feel like all of the happiness had been sucked out of the world.

For generations the Malfoy family resided in their family home, usually with personalities as hollow and miserable as the manor itself.

In previous years, the manor was used as a headquarters for a cult of horrific witches and wizards. Malfoy Manor had seen murder and torture in a wide variety of trepidatious brutal attacks. Especially on the innocent.

There was so much blood in the manor—so much—from all of its unfortunate victims, some of the stains from muggles, yet some from the witches and wizards who fought for good.

Draco Malfoy, the only heir to the manor after being the only child of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, scrubbed the manor clean himself. From what used to be the dungeons downstairs, to the attic. Every single room had been cleaned by hand and wand, not once, but very many times. Every time he'd get a night terror about the past, the screams, the blood—

        No matter the methods he used. No matter how many times he spent scrubbing. There's no potion, muggle method or spell strong enough to rid the manor of the blood spilled.

        When Draco looks down at his pale hands, he sees blood there, too.

        Spilled blood runs in the family, in the roots of the manor itself—the very ground it was built on, a bloodbath.

        After all these years, Draco can still see the blood. He can feel the ickiness of it, crawling over his skin.

        Still, after all these years, Draco can't bring himself to sell it. Abandon it. His home.

        In most recent years, however, Malfoy Manor had been a brighter and more hopeful place to live. With the birth of Draco and Astoria's first child, Artemis Narcissa Malfoy, he suddenly turned the manor into a home. A home fir for children to live in. He even went to the extent of painting dining hall, kitchen and living room bright shades of green.

For Draco, the house was warmer and the night terrors subsided. Further still, along came their second child, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, a couple of years separating the siblings.

       Life for Draco Malfoy had never been so full of excitement and hope. Even the birds started to sing outside the manor again, the days looked brighter and the manor seemed to thrive with the happiness the children brought.

         It had been seventeen wonderful years since Draco had felt that helpless pit in his gut, the terror at night when he sleeps, when everything's gone quiet and he can hear the screams again from when he was seventeen.

        Draco curled his white fingers tighter around his wife's, holding his breath for a quick moment to stop his shoulders from shaking.

        All he could feel since her passing was helplessness. What was he to do now? How is he to carry on? When she brought all the colours into his life in bold and striking ways.

       On the opposite side of the bed sat his eldest, Artemis, whose intake of breath was short, rapid and harsh. Her eyes, exactly like his own, stared heartbrokenly at her mother.

        A good father would've kept his daughter away from the horrors of death. One too many times Draco had witnessed this, came close himself plenty a times to shake hands with Death. How could he have let his daughter witness her own mother take her last ever breath?

        Draco glanced at his watch.

       Fourteen minutes.

        Nearly an hour Astorias been gone and not once did Draco see his daughter shed a single tear. Instead, she froze, panic-stricken and in a state of shock.

        Artemis, his precious child, rocked back and forth in the chair. Tongue swiping over her mouth every so often as she stared, unblinkingly at Astoria's chest, as if expecting it to rise again.

         In a world, long gone now, Draco remembered reacting the same when he was told to kill a man he'd known for years.

        Expressing emotions isn't an easily trait given to the Malfoys.

        Draco—didn't want to, but he had to—decided that it was time to call the hospital. It was time to think clearly. And it was definitely time to take Artemis into his arms.

        "Artemis." His hands shook when he stood. "You need to say goodbye." His voice almost ceased to exist when that sentence left his mouth. He doesn't want to say goodbye to his wife.

        They were supposed to grow old together.

        Gently, he placed a soothing hand on her shoulder. "Give her a hug and go get Scorpius."

        Artemis didn't move. The rocking stopped now, but her knee bounced in place. "Dad—" her intake of breath vastly surpassed any out breath. He worried she might pass out. His grip on her shoulder tightened. "Dad—Dad—D-Dad—" now she rubbed her thumbs on the palm of her hands, the rocking starting up again. "Dad—she's—Mums gone—I can't—Mums—M-Mums—Dad—she's. . . gone."

        In front of his daughter he crouched down, trying to free her of this shock he held tightly onto her hands. Tears blurred up his vision when he noticed how clouded her eyes were with tears building up but never falling. "Artemis," he tried again, "you need to say goodbye."

        "I—I can't—" her teeth chattered together as if the coldness of the house had returned and already started to take hold of his children. "I don't want to. . . to—to touch her."

Draco's heart shattered once more.

How is he supposed to make his children happy again?

▬▬▬▬▬

Rain battered the only window in her bedroom. Supposed to be summer, yet the rain was relentless in giving into the sun. The pattering of rain blocked out any other sound, she could hardly hear herself breathe. At the same time, the pattering drove her into deep thought and contemplation.

It was a grey day. A horrible day. Malfoy Manor looked gloomy again, just like it used to all those years ago, even her bedroom—which was painted mint green—looked miserable and devoid of life.

Artemis Malfoy lay down on her bed, fingers interlaced behind her head as she stared unblinkingly up at the ceiling. Memories of her mother crashed into her in waves, making her chest constrict tightly and pain being felt all over.

For the last two days Artemis has locked herself away inside her bedroom. She'd placed locks on the door that her father nor brother could figure out and unlock.

Only her owl, Apollo, kept her company. Even then his company was rare and sparse, for he'd peck the window repeatedly until she'd let him out to fly.

The moment the window opened, she'd spot a storm of owls coming above the trees in the distance. Artemis would slam the window shut with a silencing charm, for that she was not in the mood to speak to her friends.

Especially her classmates she'd never spoken to before that feel pity for her and decided to make themselves feel better by sending her an owl with sympathy.

Knocking came from the door.

"Artemis?" It was her brother. She didn't move an inch. "Artemis, please let me in."

An answer didn't come and all that could be hear was the rain.

She closed her eyes, just wanting to be left alone.

Another minute passed, her brother still outside the door because she heard him lean against it, and slide down to the floor.

"I'm not leaving until you open your door."

Let's hope he's got a packed lunch with him, because he'll be there a long time.

"Artemis, please."

Artemis ignored him again, rolled over to face the window and closed her eyes, the sleeping potion she'd brewed earlier taking its effect.

▬▬▬▬▬

Day four came quick.

Artemis still had yet to leave her room for anything other than the use of the toilet. Even then, she made sure her father and brother weren't waiting outside the door.

This day, however, Artemis moved from the bed—after awhile, the bed grew uncomfortable after laying on for the last four days. Now she sat on a soft chair in front of her desk, littered with ink, quills and parchment.

To occupy her mind, she attempted to write a letter to Blair.

Dear Blair,

I'm sorry for not writing. I'm sorry for not reading your letters. I'm sorry for not letting you visit.

I don't know why I'm being like this. It's hard to be around people. I haven't spoken to Dad or Scorpius since. I just don't have the energy or the will—

"Artemis?" On a day as sunny as today, it was easier to listen out for all the smallest of sounds without having the rain thunder down. "Please, I need you."

Another day Scorpius spent outside the door. She wondered when he would give up.

"I need to see you, Artie." His voice sounded worn, stretched beyond its capacity and croaky. He sounded broken. "I need my sister."

I need my sister.

Her hand that held the quill started to shake, emotion vibrating through her vertebral column, ink splattered across the parchment—the letter to Blair that she was never going to send.

"I'm leaving tonight," he tells her, his voice sounded stronger and determined. "I'm going to the Potters for awhile."

The quill snapped beneath her tight grip.

Her brother's leaving her.

"Artemis?"

He must've heard the quill break.

Scorpius sighed heavily. "I don't know when I'll be back. Albie said I could stay for as long as I need." He stopped to fiddle with the knob on the door. He tried shaking it, but it wouldn't work. "The Potters also said you're more than welcome to visit too, if you need to get away."

Artemis pulled out another quill from the top drawer.

Dear Mum,

Why did you have to leave? I hate you for leaving us. Why couldn't you have waited until we were older? Until I'd learnt how to cope with this?

I know Scorp was your favourite, but I miss you terribly. Actually I can't decide whether I miss you or hate you. And not because you loved him more, but because you left me.

Who's going to give me advice on boys now? Who's going to help me pick out my wedding—

"I'm sorry, Artemis," her brother's voice started to fade. "I love you."

▬▬▬▬▬

Scorpius left home just under one week ago.

The emptiness of the manor could really be felt now. Especially when all Draco seemed to do was spend more time at the Ministry than at home.

Now that the manor is empty, Artemis has moved her moping, self-pitiful and grieving self down the stairs to the ground floor.

        There's nothing to do except wander down the hall to the room that's been closed since Astoria Malfoy died.

        Outside she sat for two hours, munching on a pot of strawberries and a big bag of triangular shaped crisps that the muggles rave about.

        Then Artemis wondered back to the kitchen, made herself toast with chocolate spread and ate it on the floor.

        Apollo followed her around with a letter from Blair Zabini, Tiberius Nott and Marlene Wood. Each letter she threw in the bin and struck with a reducto. The barn owl would peck her fingers every so often to let her know that one; he is still there and two; he's hungry and would be happy if she shared.

        "No—" it's too late. The damn bird swiped a piece of toast from her hand before it reached her lips. Now his feathers were sticky with the dark brown spread. "You owe me." Apollo squawked in her face, wings flapping, her hair being blown around. It was a small magical moment, but Artemis could feel the corner of her mouth breakout into what could only be a smile. "You stupid bloody bird."

▬▬▬▬▬

        The sun hadn't even broken through the clouds yet and Artemis was awake already.

        Mostly because there was a noise coming from outside. From directly outside her bedroom window.

        There was enough daylight to peek through her curtains though, enough to reveal small shadows falling against the window.

        With a scowl she flicked her wrist and the curtains parted—her father had been teaching the Malfoy siblings wandless magic at the start of the summer, only Artemis managed to master small and simple spells, whereas Scorpius could not master any as of yet.

        Another stone hit the window and she crawled across the bed to look out at whatever decided to annoy her this morning.

        When she peered down, a lean figure stood beneath the window of the second floor. Instantly she recognised him as Lysander Scamander, her best friends boyfriend of well over a year and a rival on the Quidditch pitch—he played Seeker for Ravenclaw, Artemis as Beater often targeted the boy.

        What is he doing?

        When the boy spotted Artemis's face in the window, he dropped the pebbles and frantically waved at her. She rolled her eyes and closed the curtains again, wanting to go back to sleep.

        But, the curtains opened again.

        Grumbling to herself she yanked the window open, glaring down at him with annoyance. "What the bloody hell do you want, Scamander?"

        He cupped his hands round his mouth. "I just want to talk!"

        She frowned. Talking is not something she's done a lot of recently and her voice still felt rather delicate and odd after being mute for so long.

        "We're all worried about you!"

        "Leave me alone. We'll talk on the train—"

        "No," he interrupted, his voice bellowing across the acres of land and inside her room. "We'll talk now. If you won't talk to B or Ty, then you're talking to me."

        Artemis scrunched her nose. "I'd rather not."

        "Too late," he quipped and folded his arms, settling himself down on the pebbles as dark rain clouds started to form above. "I'm not moving!"

         How stubborn. She rolled her eyes, locked her window, closed the curtains and went back to sleep after taking another sip of the potion.

▬▬▬▬▬

        Lysander Scamander was relentless in making her talk to someone. It irritated her that he wouldn't leave her alone.

       One day when her father was leaving for the Ministry after spending no more than twelve hours at home, he opened the door to Lysander Scamander who came back to visit.

        Her father called up the stairs to her, saying she had a visitor waiting in the living room downstairs.

        Carefully Artemis waited until her father left before venturing outside her safety net.

        Sure enough, Lysander Scamander sat politely on the sofa, waiting for Artemis.

        When she entered the room, dressed in emerald silk pyjamas, he smiled. "Hello."

        "Leave." She was serious. Arms folded and everything.

        As if what she said was funny, he let out a little laugh. "It's funny how you think I'm going to leave."

        Artemis didn't answer, simply glared at him, hoping the steeliness in her eyes would be plenty to frighten him to leave.

        "You know, Blair's really upset that you won't speak to her," Lysander deadpanned, as if it's all Artemis's fault his girlfriend's upset. "Only because she's worried about you. And upset about what's happened. Blair's only worried, Artie. And Ty."

        Lysander's eyes narrowed, realising she wasn't going to answer him again. "How's Scorpius?"

        Now that hit a nerve. Because Artemis didn't know how Scorpius is, whether he's laughing, crying, doing okay or what. They've not spoken in two weeks.

        "Why're you here, Sander?"

        Lysander stood from the sofa and took four strides towards Artemis. "Because you're my friend and everyone is so worried about you."

         And then suddenly he gives her a hug, which at first she doesn't react to, just kept standing like a pencil as he gripped her tighter. "You know, I'm going to keep hugging you until you hug back."

        Artemis's arms moved of their own accord and she wrapped them around his neck, almost squeezing for dear life.

        "It's not that I don't want to talk to them," she confessed, her voice a whisper into his neck. "I tried to write them letters. But I just—I don't know. I just don't have—have the energy."

        Lysander released her and they stood centimetres apart. It had been so long since someone had hugged her. Since she'd allowed anyone to speak to her, or herself to speak to someone.

        "It's okay," he said softly, clearly seeing that Artemis was upset.

        Her head shook. "It's not. It's really not. I'm not being fair to them, I should at least let them know I've not gone insane."

        "They understand. But—" he paused, eyes searching hers for an answer that was quite obvious. "—How are you, Artemis?"

        Over the course of the past few weeks since Astoria died, not once did Artemis she'd a tear. It was near impossible for the tears to fall after being accumulated. For the last few weeks it hadn't really hit her yet, she's just been in a state of shock since, unable to comprehend what she saw.

        But these non-shed tears have been building up. These emotions she's been unable to express have bottled up to maximum capacity, until now, when someone asked her how she's coping, the wall of steel crumbles.

        "I miss her already. I've missed her the moment she died—" Artemis collapses to the floor, her knees weak from the onslaught of emotion. "—And I m-miss Dad and S-Scorp so much but I've—" she  inhaled sharply through a loud sob. "—I pushed them. . . away and—and everyone, I—"

        Lysander wrapped her into a comforting hug again, his hand caressing her hair, his body rocking back and forth on the floor as he remained silent, allowing Artemis to let it all out.

▬▬▬▬▬

Over the next couple of days, Artemis spent them with Lysander, deciding that his company distracted her mind from thinking too deep, or wandering too far.

They were upstairs holed up in her bedroom. Lysander brought over a muggle toy, "a projector," he had called it and tried to set it up so they could watch a movie. At her desk she waited patiently for him to get it working, using the time to write out another letter.

Dear Blair,

Please don't feel guilty for not being with me. You shouldn't as it's my fault for not allowing you to come over. It's my fault for not answering your owls. You've done your best, I've just pushed you away.

You should know that Sander's helped me. He's only here because figured he out the locks on my doors and practically begged my father to let him in. If he hadn't been so clever with the lock picking, then I wouldn't have let him in.

I miss you though. And Ty. I miss you both terribly. I was thinking, maybe, the three of us could, I don't know, go for a walk somewhere? I just want to see you both—

"It's ready," Lysander announced, patting the place next to him on her bed. "Blair loves this film."

The letter was discarded as she climbed over the pile of clothes on her bedroom floor and joined him on the bed. "What's it called?"

Lysander shifted down the bed, hands behind his head, watching the film on the ceiling above. "Ten Things I Hate About You."

"Sounds delightful," Artemis rolled her eyes sarcastically.

"Oh it is," he argued, "it's a cute little romcom."

Artemis blinked. "Romcom?"

"Romantic comedy."

"Oh."

They went silent after that, the movie starting. In her opinion, Artemis has never really understood the fascination with watching a movie or tv show. She'd much rather go to the theatre to experience the live action in person.

Out of respect to Lysander and how he's comforted her over the last few days, she tried to pay attention to what was happening.

It got difficult when the main characters mother died years ago and the siblings just had their father and each other left. All it did was remind Artemis of what she's going through, except without the whole romantic interest to sweep her off her feet—preferably with a broom.

"We can watch something else," Lysander said quickly, pausing the movie to turn his neck and look at her worriedly. "I forgot about—"

"It's fine—" she shrugged, her eyes falling onto his blues. "—it's been a long day, anyway. You should go see Blair."

Lysander hesitated, which was completely obvious in the way he just didn't move at all. "Blair's fine with us spending time together. She's just happy you're talking to someone."

"You should go, Sander."

Artemis scrambled to her feet, opening the door and gestures for him to leave.

It was slow and stalling but Lysander eventually caved and wondered to the exit. "You sure you'll be alright? I know your dad's still at the Ministry and Scorp—"

"Thank you, Sander." On her tiptoes, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, trying to show him how much she appreciated his kindness. It was in moments like these where Artemis didn't want to let go of him just yet, because as he said, the manor is very lonely.

In no time Lysander snakes his arms around her waist, pulling her in tight and dropping a soft kiss to her head. "Owl me if you need anything, okay?"

Artemis planted her feet to the ground, hesitantly pulling away from him, but kept her arms around his neck—which in retrospect, she probably shouldn't have. His hands settled on her hips and all Artemis could do was stare at his mouth.

What is it like? She wondered, what would I feel? Would it get rid of my pain? Would I—

        Her heart—that somehow still existed—began to hammer ridiculously fast.

         "Artemis—"

        She cut him off entirely. Before she could change her mind.

        Their mouths met in a lethal mess of mistakes and betrayals, but Artemis, for one split second, cared for nothing at all. Only the feeling of something else other than pain.

        Lysander, granted, was surprised at first when Artemis kissed him. But not once did he try to pull away or push her aside. In fact, he took control, leading the kiss that made Artemis's skin itch with a fever and a secret desire she never knew existed.

        She didn't realise that her first kiss would be such a sin.

        By now the bedroom door closed shut and the pair tripped over each other until they made it to the bed.

        Everything about this was wrong. So terribly, wickedly wrong. But there was a hole inside her chest, a large hole of despair, that was closing up the harder he kissed her.

        When Lysander kissed her, Artemis felt like she could breathe again.

▬▬▬▬▬

        This is bad.

        This is really bad.

        Dear Blair,

                             I write to you my third letter. Another one I can add to my collection of letters I'll never have the courage to actually send.

                             I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I'm sorry I didn't reach out to you first. I'm sorry this happened. I'm sorry I'm such a terrible person. I'm sorry I put myself before you. I'm sorry I did this to you. I'm sorry that I probably won't ever tell you.

                              I'm sorry I betrayed you. And I'm sorry that I keep on doing it.

                              There's no chance for forgiveness, I know, but I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry—

▬▬▬▬▬

a/n 😈😈

i probably shouldn't be writing this because i have four exams in january..😭

but hey ho.

here we are.

i wrote this because i forgot how much i love harry potter and i used to have a jsp ff on my old account so i thought i'd try again.

BUT ALSO.

there's a social media version to this book, too. it won't be out until this reaches chapter 10 at least.

chapter 1: jan first 2020.

wow. 2020.

in the mean time, merry christmas and a happy new year!

love, glesni x