A Rose by Any Other Name
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and Bellatrix. Enjoy and feel free to let me know what you thought.
Bellatrix Astra Malfoy was seven years old when she found the box of old pictures under her grandmother's bed. She was confused by all the images, seeing a younger version of herself with pin straight blonde hair rather than her righteous ebony curls. There were two girls next to the pretty blonde, both tall with dark hair, one with wild curls so much like her own. The next picture was of two boys, both with dark curls and aristocratic features. Then there was a baby picture of her father, a wedding picture of her grandmother and grandfather, bother stunning standing next to each other with love in their eyes.
Grandfather was the one to find sitting on the floor next to his and grandmother's bed sifting through the moving photographs laid out in front of her. She had expected anger, instead he calmly told her who each and every one in the photographs were. The tallest witch with the wild curls was who she had been named after, grandmother's eldest sister. The witch in between the two was her great aunt Andromeda, the black sheep of the family, according to her grandfather. She had ran away from her family to marry a muggle born wizard. She had a cousin who was part lycanthrope as well as a metamorphagus. Her metamorphagus cousin was the god son to the boy who lived, and he often saw his grandmother, her great aunt. The two boys were grandmother's cousin Sirius and Regulus. Sirius had died protecting his god son while Regulus had died doing something he had thought was right.
“You come from a long line of brave heroes, Little Starlight. Never forget that. When anyone says otherwise, remember you come from two lines that are both brave and loyal,” he had whispered as he kissed the top of her head before pushing himself to his feet with creaking joints and leaving his only granddaughter to gaze at the faces of those who have long since passed, and those who have aged after facing two wars. That was the day she had decided she would be much more than what her name would try to define her as.
Bellatrix Astra Malfoy is eleven years old when she faces the giant crimson steam engine known to all as the Hogwarts express. She can hear her mother behind her fretting over Scorpius's crooked cloak, and what a mess her curls have become. She isn't truly paying attention as she carefully looks around the train platform, taking in all the new first years who would be joining her brother and herself in the sorting. It is when her eyes land on a large group that catches her attention. Cocking her head to the side, her mercurial silver eyes graze over the two who appeared to be boarding the train for the first time.
“Father, do you know who they are?” she doesn't point, that is impolite, she merely tilts her head in the direction of the group of red heads and the one with messy black hair. Draco snorted, shaking his head.
“Those are the Weasleys and the Potters,” Draco answered, his own mercurial silver eyes watching his only daughter carefully.
“Starlight, whatever they say to you, whatever anyone says to you, and no matter how they treat you, I want you to be the better person. You are a Malfoy, you shall not fall for petty tricks or resort to their level. Show them just what a true Malfoy can do,” Draco spoke softly as he crouched behind his daughter, resting his chin on her bony little shoulder. She didn't answer, however Draco knew she would listen from the way she straightened her shoulders and squared her jaw. They would challenge her, and she would prove to them she was nothing like her namesake, she was so much better.
Albus Severus Potter is seven years old when he learns what it truly means to be the son of the great Harry Potter. His mum decided Lily, James, and he needed some fresh air that wasn't from their own back yard and brought them to the park. He had brought a book with him to read while James found a group of boys to play pick up quidditch with. Lily was on the swings, their mum behind her, pushing her. Looking at the scene in front of him, he knew there was something different about him. James had always been more out going. He was the adventurous one, the charismatic one. Albus always related more to his Aunt Hermione, preferring a good book to the large groups James surrounded himself with. Mum would just smile softly, shaking her head and tell him he was much more like his father than his brother was. Albus never understood what she meant until one day, he did.
He was nine years old when he observed his father in a group. The family was celebrating his birthday, and Harry smiled, spoke to those who came and accepted the pats and hugs. But Albus saw the way his dad would flinch whenever some one raised their hand, or how he would tense whenever they touched him. Albus had always noticed the little things about his family, but it was times like these he truly saw just who his parents were. It had been two hours into the party when he noticed his dad slip away, going down the hall way that led to his room rather than up the stairs to the room his parents shared. Albus, being curious, followed after him.
“I always tell them I would rather not have a party, but they never listen to me,” his dad had a wry smile on his lips as he sat on Albus' bed his hands holding his face.
“Are you alright dad?” he questioned quietly, tilting his head to the side in confusion. Harry inhaled a deep breath before releasing it slowly, lifting his head from his hands he nodded.
“Yeah, I'm fine Al. Crowds tend to get to me though. I need a minute every once in a while,” Harry answered, his shoulders sagging as he watched his middle child standing in the doorway.
“I always thought you enjoyed crowds, kind of like James. He loves being the center of attention,” Harry snorted at that, shaking his head before looking at his son again.
“James gets that from your mother. That never ending confidence. The ability to draw everyone to him. I was never like that. I still hate crowds to this day. I would rather be alone than surrounded by hundreds of people. You get that from me,” Harry stated with a proud grin before pushing to his feet.
“Better get back out there, make sure Uncle Ron and Uncle George don't set that house on fire,” Harry stated, patting his son on his head before leaving the room.
Albus is eleven years old when he first sees the Malfoy family. He recognizes Draco Malfoy from the articles in the Daily Prophet standing next to his wife Astoria Greengrass. It's the two children beside them that catch his attention. Both are obviously the same age. Twins, he's nearly certain of it. However instead of the standard platinum blonde hair her entire family seems to possession, the young girl has a head of wild ebony black curls that cascade down her back. He watches as her eyes graze the platform, never truly stopping on one person until they land on his brood. He notices the color is an icy silver, yet they fit her somehow. Shes tall for her age with sharp features. She presents a cold front, sure to keep any one and everyone away from her. He can't help but think she looks like an ice princess, someone from one of Lily's story books that mum always reads to her. Albus vaguely hears Uncle Ron telling Rosie to stay away from those troublesome Malfoy children, and to beat them at every thing. All he can think of is how he would like to get to know the female Malfoy.
Albus feels the weight of his father's hand on his shoulder, and knows he wants to tell him something, something important he's certain.
“You are my son, Al, and no matter what house you end up in, I'll always be proud,” Harry stated, a small smile on his lips. Albus can't help the fear he's felt for the past weak show as he voices his main concern.
“Even if I end up in Slytherin?” Harry only shrugs,
“Than Slytherin will have gained a great student,” Albus nods, turning his attention to the Ice Princess, just as she and her twin board the train that will take them to the magical school of Hogwarts.