When Your Parents Tell You Bedtime Stories

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"We always say we won't become our mother...but you know what I've realized? Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing."

~Ashley LeeAnn Fredrick

"I'd rather be hated for who I am, than loved for who I'm not."

~Rudy Ray Moore

Persephone Rae Granger loved the feeling of the damp Hogwarts grass beneath her bare feet. The chill of the morning sent a tingling sensation up and down her arms. The rising sun was her favorite sight in the world, she never missed it. It meant another day was here, another chance, another time to live.

Persephone's father had been telling her bedtime stories since she could remember. They were always the same; look for a new day, because you don't know if you'll see the rising sun tomorrow. She knew that the stories were fictional, about faraway places that didn't exist and creatures that weren't real. But the stories always had the same tragic ending, leaving you to wonder, well, what happened next?

Persephone's mother had died when she was three. That was the last time she ever saw her grandparents. Whenever Persephone asked Draco Malfoy about the woman in her dreams he would get the same look in his eyes, then, quickly, he would tell her another story.

But now Persephone was in her fifth year at Hogwarts. The bedtime stories had stopped a long time ago, along with her needy knowledge of her mother. Her dad had seemed almost relieved that she had stopped asking, but there was something about him that made Persephone think he still wanted her to know about her mother. Although Persephone had heard plenty when she had arrived at Hogwarts:

'We expect great things from you, Miss Granger.'

'You're mother was the brightest witch we've ever had.'

"If you're anything like you mother, Miss Granger, Hogwarts is in for quite a trip.'

But it didn't help when Persephone didn't know what any of them meant. Her mother, Hermione Anne Granger, had been pregnant at the age of 18, and then died at 21. That was all she knew, and perhaps that was all she ever wanted to know.

Persephone stood and made her way back towards the castle. The sun was well over the horizon and the morning cold was starting to get to her. Making her way back down to the dungeons Persephone thought about a story she had asked her dad to tell her time and time again. It was a story about two people from completely different realms who fell in love. Of course she knew the ending, but she always wanted to hear the tragic tale of their romance. Every time he told the story, as she got older, he'd add more details about the love the two characters had. The ending was always the same, 'the passageway between the realms closed sealing the lovers' fates at last.' Her dad was such a character when it came to stories.

Her dad, Draco Malfoy, had a great reputation at Hogwarts among Slytherins that Persephone had taken great pride in. She would listen as classmates told her the stories their parents told them about the notorious Draco Malfoy, son of the convicted Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy. About him and the famous trio and how he had turned his back on the loyal Slytherins. Of course, now that the war was over, that didn't matter anymore. Most of the Slytherins still wanted to follow his example. When the teachers would hear Persephone speak of her father they would shake their heads sadly and she could hear them whisper, 'if only she knew.' But Persephone didn't care what she didn't know. If there was one thing her dad had taught her it was that, if people want to keep their mouths shut about something, you can't pry them open. And no one was open to sharing any information with Persephone about her past.

There were people who said Persephone was perfect for Slytherin, and then there were those that said she was too nice. Well, they didn't say that anymore when Persephone had her way with them. Persephone took a lot of pride in being a snake. Who want to be a stupid sodding noble Gryffindor anyway?

Persephone entered the Slytherin common room and placed herself on a couch by the fire. She couldn't help but wonder about her mother after a dream she had last night. She had long ago figured out her mother must be the bushy-haired women in her dreams, leaning over her or holding her. But last night her mother's voice had been arguing with someone at the door as Persephone had lain huddled in her bed. The odd part was that her father never appeared in any dreams with her mother.

It was almost Christmas holidays and Persephone would be returning home to the Malfoy manor. She could remember always seeing this look in her father's eyes when he told her a story, the same one he would get when she used to ask about her mother; a look that Persephone couldn't place. Draco Malfoy hadn't told her a bedtime story in five years, since she had left for Hogwarts. Perhaps, Persephone thought as she stirred the logs in the fire, it's time to ask dad for one more bedtime story.