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The snowflakes fell on to her hair as she sat on the stairs of the Burrow, secretly hoping that the wind would blow her away and magically bring her to another dimension where everything would be alright.
It felt as if her tears could freeze to ice before they reached her chin. A part of her cursed herself for not bringing her coat outside, but the other part was happy with the cold. Maybe, if she sat on the stairs long enough, she would turn into ice herself.
Shortly after storming out of the Drawing Room of 12 Grimmauld Place, the twins had Apparated to the house to bring her back to the Burrow. Her first instinct had, of course, been to steal one of their brooms and fly to Malfoy Manor, but she knew that if what Sirius and Harry had told her had any truth to it, the Manor could no longer be her home.
Had her life been a lie? Was it true that everything she knew of life was just a disguise of a horrible nightmare?
The Dark Lord had once told her that the reason why she could not remember the first years of her life was because of a magical accident. He had kept telling her that he was her father and that she was the heiress of Slytherin; that she would grow to be the most powerful witch in the world simply because of the blood running in her veins. He had never been able to raise her because he had been too weak, and had therefore only appeared in her dreams most of her life. Tom had told her that the only way he could become a real father to her was if she listened to every word he spoke and did his work.
Then, there was her mother - or, who she had thought was her mother. Bellatrix. She had been told that her mother had been sent to Azkaban when she tried to protect her, and that they would be reunited as soon as she completed the Dark Lord's mission. Though having no memory of her because of this, Marina had always felt close to Bellatrix and dreamt of the moment of meeting her ever since she started her years at Hogwarts.
Many had told her she possessed her mother's features: the dark eyes with the curly, black hair. The only times she had seen her mother was trough old family pictures, where she posed proudly in Malfoy Manor. Marina had accepted the fact that she looked so much like the woman long ago. But Regulus had possessed the Black beauty, as well.
She remembered the days at the Manor when she had cried because she had wanted to meet her mother so badly. She had felt lonely, sitting in empty rooms, listening to sobs turn into echoes, and watching tears turn into puddles on the floor. Narcissa had been the only one who was able to stop her crying, being the gentle, sweet aunt who would brush her hair and kiss her forehead, telling her that if she closed her eyes and stopped her crying, she could hear her mother call her name. Of course, it didn't work, but it stopped the tears from falling down, at least.
Narcissa Malfoy. The woman who had always been there for her. The woman who had brought her to Hogsmeade every time she had felt down. The woman who had brushed her messy curls until it hurt her fingers, but kept humming the whole time to keep her from crying again. The woman who had made her the girl she was today, the woman that had shaped her childhood. Had she been lying to her the whole time? Had it all been an act?
