"Do you even remember that night? When we were thirteen? When I told you that if I could spend the rest of my life with anybody, it'd be you?"
***
Aquila Malfoy knew, through and through, that she was a Malfoy. She had the pale skin, shiny blonde...
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There were but two rules in Malfoy Manor— no cursing, and no muggle objects whatsoever.
Aquila had never had a problem with these two rules, seeing as she had no reason to break them. Curse words felt extremely wrong leaving her mouth, and she had never even had the opportunity to get her hands on a muggle object before. Besides, why bother breaking the two main rules when she could just cause problems in every other way possible?
However, upon the Delacour's leaving, Aquila had broken arguably the most important rule. If her parents knew she was in possession of Fleur's presents, Aquila would be in the biggest trouble she'd ever been in. The thought of that scared her, however, she'd been getting away with things her entire life— her punishment if they found the magazines probably wouldn't be that bad. But, still, she kept them hidden in the depths of her closet.
Just in case.
Over the next few weeks of summer, Aquila obsessed over those magazines. Every single garment— whether it was a grand ball gown or a checkered tee-shirt— was embedded into her memory. She took everything she saw very seriously, making sure to carefully eye the seams and stitching of the clothes, the color pallets, the descriptions and designer signatures, the accessories matched with them— everything.
It had always been a dream of hers to be a designer, ever since she could remember. She'd found a basket full of needles, thread, and scraps of fabric in Dobby's cupboard under the second floor stairwell when she was seven, and that was that. She'd asked the elf himself to teach her a basic hand stitch, and she'd been sewing ever since.
This was also around the time she fully began to understand that the term 'servant' and 'slave' were basically the same thing, and her father had to take away her ownership privileges of Dobby, as she'd almost freed him multiple times. She hated that he was stuck under the rule of his fathers dangerous hand, but Dobby assured her he didn't mind. Aquila had always considered Dobby as her friend, much to her parents' distaste.
"Thank you, Dobby," said Aquila sweetly, as he placed her breakfast on the table in front of her one sunny morning.
"Of course, Miss Aquila!" Dobby squeaked back, smiling.
Lucius cleared his throat loudly. "Out," he drawled, not bothering to so much as glance at the person he was speaking to.
Dobby's ears drooped a little, and he bowed low to the Malfoy family, before disappearing without another word. Aquila's brows knitted together, her lips forming an impressive pout. "You could be a bit more appreciative towards the hand that feeds you, Daddy."
"I am the one that feeds him, darling," said Lucius, unabashed by her comment. "The elf should be the grateful one."
"You're awful to him!" Aquila whined. "Why should he be grateful?"
"Because I gave him a home and a job," answered Lucius, still not entertaining the fight his daughter was trying to start. "He's lucky I even call him by his name. Creatures like him—"
