The Lesson Learned

The Letter

Olivia had her father's eyes, the same piercing light gray eyes that sometimes looked transparent next to the paleness of her skin. People always told her that she looked just like him and she never grew tired of hearing this statement. She was his daughter after all, and reminding her of this simple fact was the greatest compliment anyone could ever give her. She was proud to have her father's eyes, mannerisms, and disposition. She was proud to have a father like Draco Malfoy.

Olivia's regard for her father was something that was so deeply ingrained in her, that she doubted whether anyone would ever be able to convince her that he was anything less than an angel. Her feelings stemmed beyond those of a typical father-daughter bond where a daughter's love is just assumed. No, her love was far more than an assumption. It was a force. A force that kept her alive and gave her hope for the future: the hope of being able to cope through difficult times and overcoming loneliness just as he had done. As a single parent he had done his best in raising her, giving her twice as much attention, so she that she would never feel the void that came with the absence of maternal love. But despite the fact that they could not call themselves a complete family, Olivia was satisfied by the love her father showed her.

They had lived in Ireland ever since she had been a baby, and she had never once met another member of the Malfoy clan. When Olivia became old enough to question this, her father had told her that this was because he had been an only child and her grandparents had long since passed away. She eventually learned to accept the fact that she didn't have the many aunts, uncles, and cousins that most of her friends did. But she was content in having a father who loved her.

Then, there was also the fact that none of the other children had a father who was a wizard.

She had learned the difference between a Wizard or a Witch and a Muggle at the tender age of three. They had been in the living room of their small house when her father had taken out his wand and with it, conjured a fire. Olivia had seen her father take out his wand many times before, but this was the first time that she truly understood what had happened. Her father had made fire appear out of thin air.

"Mary's daddy uses wood! He doesn't have one of those," Olivia had said, pointing a chubby little finger at the wand which had disappeared behind the waist of Draco's jeans. She had been sitting on the table with a cookie in her hand, watching him.

"Mary's daddy is not a wizard Oli," Draco had answered, somewhat surprised by his young daughter's rather receptive comment, "So he has to do it his own way."

"Why?" she had rejoined, her mouth full of cookie.

"Because there are some people that are Wizards or Witches and some that are not. We call them Muggles."

"Oh," Olivia had answered, her voice indicating that she had lost interest in the subject.

Draco had not deemed it necessary to explain that there were many things in the world that would be different for Olivia because she was a witch. She was too young to understand that the difference between the two worlds existed on a scale that was much larger than the simple way of lighting a fire. So Draco had left it at that. As time went on, he began disclosing the more important aspects about their way of life. So it was a hardly a matter of surprise that when Olivia had turned eleven she received her letter from Ireland's Academy of the Magical Arts. She understood that although she and her father lived in an all Muggle Community, there were also many communities of Wizards and Witches all over the world. And just as there were schools for Muggle children, there were schools for Magical Folk as well. The sadness that she had felt at the thought of staying away from her father was quickly quelled by excitement at the prospect of learning Magic.

The last few days before the start of term had been an eternity of suspense. Her thoughts had been based solely on her expectations of what she would soon be learning. She could not therefore be blamed for failing to notice the worry that was palpable from her father's demeanor.

He'd certainly had reason to worry. He was after all sending the last known descendant of the Malfoy family back into the Wizarding Community, after having spent so many years in seclusion. He'd been worried that his name would still be connected with the events that had transpired long ago; events that had gone down in the annals of magical history because they had involved the darkest wizard ever known: Lord Voldermort, and the infamously famous Harry Potter. These events had left Draco in an ominous position; a position that teetered on the brink of betrayal and murder. He had emerged in one piece, but the emotional and mental scars had taken years to heal. He had however, begun to rebuild his life once again. For a while it had seemed as though it would be easy. He had moved to a remote country, far away from anyone he had ever known. He had met and married Olivia's mother Cara, a Muggle, and for a while everything had went on well. That is, until Cara had died giving birth and he was left to care for his child alone.

Here again he had emerged successfully, raising a beautiful and healthy daughter. He had known that as long as they lived in a Muggle community he could control what she would learn regarding his past. Deep down, he knew that once she started her magical training it would be more difficult to filter the information she received. In order to help relieve some of his anxiety on the matter he had researched the magical education available in their area and had found a small private academy that seemed like the perfect place. The lesser the number of people at the school, the better were the odds were that they would not remember the name Malfoy and its significance in Magical history.

It seemed as though his plan had worked. Olivia had returned from her first year at the academy as excited as she had been when she had left, eager to show her father all she had learned. Other than a few curious stares she had received from some students and teachers at the mention of her name, Olivia had not noticed anything unusual. And so the time passed. For five years Olivia returned from school more knowledgeable in magic than when she left. It seemed as though Olivia was satisfied with the way her life was progressing.

Little did Draco know that soon everything that he had rebuilt, everything that he had tried so hard to keep hidden, would all come crashing down. It all started with a letter...

It was a hot night, early in the summer. Olivia was reading a Muggle magazine and listening to the IWWN or the Irish Wizarding Wireless Network. They were playing classical music and the screeching voice of the lead singer from the band, "The Weird Sisters" filled the entire house. She could vaguely make out her father voice, humming lazily to the tune. Olivia was so immersed in an article, "Top Ten Ways to Tell He's Into You," that she hardly noticed a large gray owl zoom in through the open window and land on the sofa, it hooted impatiently. She looked up from the floor in front of the empty fireplace and noticed the owl. An envelope was tied to its leg. Expecting it to be a letter from one of her school friends, she untied it. The owl nipped her finger approvingly and soared out through the window. She tore open the envelope and was about to take out the letter when she realized that it wasn't addressed to her. Her father usually received letters from her school but not this early in the summer. Curiously she turned the envelope in her hand but did not recognize its wax seal.

"Hey daddy, "she cried out. "There's a letter for you."

Draco came out of the kitchen wiping his hands on a towel. "From school? Isn't it a little too early for those? "

Olivia shrugged as she handed him the half open letter and took her place on the floor. She caught the fading notes of the song playing on the wireless and sighed heavily. Summers were always so relaxing. She picked up her magazine and had just opened it, when she realized that her father had not moved since she had given him the letter. He was standing in the kitchen doorway, a towel slung over his shoulder. He was staring at the letter, his mouth opened slightly, as if suppressing a sound of surprise.

Olivia rose quickly. "Daddy what's wrong? What does it say?" she said, her voice urgent.

As if awakening from a trance, Draco looked at his daughter and then slowly back down at the letter. He walked over to the nearest armchair, rather weakly, she noticed, and sat down.

"Daddy what is it? Are you alright?" she asked. She had never seen her father in such a state. He had always been strong and composed.

He looked over at her and as she stared into her father's gray eyes, she noticed a hint of pleading in them. "Olivia if I asked you to do something, something that would require a tremendous sacrifice on your part, would you do it...for me?" he said, turning away from her, unable to hold her gaze any longer.

"Yes, of course Daddy. But please tell me what's wrong, you look worried?" she said, her voice shaking slightly.

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead gently. "You mustn't ask any questions. Just go to your room and begin packing," he said calmly.

"Packing? Where are we going Daddy? "She knew she wasn't supposed to ask questions, but she couldn't contain her curiosity.

"We are going to England Oli. Now please pack. We haven't much time."