Black Blood

Chapter 9
Lost In The Shadow

Harry walked with Paris to the castle. Hermione and Ron were with the first year, and Ginny was probably with Justin. But Harry was glad he and Paris could finally be alone.
"Uh, Harry," Paris asked. She looked straight ahead of her; fearful whatever Nick had said would make Harry ditch her.
"Yeah," Harry said, turning to look at her. He knew she was upset about something; she had this twitch in her eye and she was quiet.
"What did Nick say to you?" She turned to look at him. Her eyes were dead serious. Would he lie and say nothing, like most of the guys she knew would do? "And tell me the truth. I want to know if he said anything about me to you."
"He said to stay away from you." Harry said as he and Paris stopped walking.
"Did you listen to him?" Paris crossed her arms over her chest and turned her body to him.
"Obviously not," Harry said, smiling just a little. "I'm right here and talking to you right now, aren't I?"
Paris managed to stifle out a laugh. She smiled at Harry, and he smiled back.
Finally, Paris thought, a guy who isn't afraid of Nick. Most of the guys that she had liked had gotten a threat by Nick, causing them to back off and never speak or look at her again.
"All first years this way! First years!" Yelled Hermione, swamped by eleven-year-old boys and girls, looking fearful and wide eyed. Harry smiled at them, remembering how freaked out he'd been when he'd first came to Hogwarts, having no clue about what was going on, or who he even was.

~*~

"Kent, Nick!" Professor McGonagall yelled over the first years chatter.
Nick walked up to her, his eyes shining and no shine of fear on his face. He sat down on the stool and smiled, a sly smile.
McGonagall placed the hat upon his head and took a few steps away from him.
"Hmm..." the Sorting Hat hummed. "Mighty brain and bravery. Symbols of...GRYFFINDOR!"
Nick smiled and McGonagall took the Sorting Hat off his head. She pointed over to a table where the most applause came from. The less amount from the other side of the room, the Slytherin table.
After Nick had sat down, McGonagall cleared her throat and said in a loud, but not quite a yelling voice, "Jameson, Paris!" She looked behind her where the professor's were sitting at a table. She gave Headmaster Dumbledore a questionable look and mouthed, "Where is she?"
The first years in front of her looked around. But none of the first years moved when McGonagall called up Paris.

~*~

Paris, who was standing in a room behind the Great Hall, leaned against the wall, scared to death. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was heavy. She knew all about her parents, who had ditched her right after she had turned ten years old. Her mother had been a death eater ever since she had left Hogwarts, and her father had been abusive. She had seen fights that turned violent from the time she was born to the time her mother ran away with another man and her father left her while she slept at night, leaving nothing but a note that said: I'm sorry to leave you like this. I know how sad you were when your mother left you. But I can't raise you by myself. Maybe you could call your aunt. All my love, Daddy.
"Damn you," she whispered. "How could you leave like that?" It had been nearly six years ago, but she couldn't forget how she cried, how long she cried, or how long she waited for him to come back, believing he would never leave daddy's little girl. She had hoped it was a cruel April Fools prank. But after three weeks, he still hadn't come back.
Maybe fate would actually be nice to her this time, and put her in Gryffindor. Maybe she could have something good happen to her...
"Miss Jameson?" came and old mans voice from the door. Paris opened her eyes and looked at Professor Dumbledore standing by the door. "We're ready for you now."
Paris nodded, fearful if she opened her mouth to speak, only a scream would escape her lips. She smiled softly at him and straightened her body. Professor Dumbledore smiled back at her and closed the door.
Paris pressed the wrinkles out of her clothes with her palms. As she walked over to the door with her head bowed, she hoped with all the hope possible that she was put into Gryffindor with Harry.
All the heads turned to her as she walked out the door slowly. She looked around for Harry, and when he saw her, he smiled and lifted his hand in a little wave. Paris smiled back as she walked over to the stool. She sat down and closed her eyes, taking in a deep cold breath. McGonagall placed the hat on her head and silence surrounded them, yet again.
"Ah," the Sorting Hat said a long voice. "Courage of Gryffindor. Brains of Ravenclaw. Loyalty of Hufflepuff. Terror of Slytherin. Just like your father. But where to put you?"
Paris snapped her eyes open once she had heard she was just like her father. I don't want to be like him, she thought; hoping the hat would get her meaning and put her where love and faith conquered over all.
"Love does not conquer all, my dear," the hat said. The Great Hall was silent. Everyone was staring at her. This was what she had feared.
Please, she thought, don't make me like my father.
"Love comes once in a life time," the stupid hat would not shut up. "But blood runs through you forever."
Please, she wished the stupid hat would just put her in Gryffindor.
"Courage and terror are equal," the Sorting Hat continued. "Unfortunate combination. I know just what to do with you! Sly-!"
"NO!" the words had escaped her mouth before she could stop them. Her eyes snapped open and she saw everyone staring at her. She saw Harry, Hermione, and Ron staring at her. But it was Harry's stare that frightened her the most and she wanted to cry.
"SLYTHERIN!" the Sorting Hat bellowed in a loud voice. The one word echoed through her mind for what seemed like forever. She just sat there, staring out at everyone staring at her. No one made a move; probably fearful she would curse them right then and there.
After a few minutes of silence, McGonagall walked over to her and whispered, "The Slytherin table is right over there, dear. Just go on over and pick a seat." She pointed to a table at the far right. Paris looked to where she pointed and frowned.

~*~

Malfoy smirked when he heard Paris being sorted in Slytherin. Let's see if we can toy with Potter's mind, he thought. He and Paris had known each other since they were both ten years old; the night after her father deserted her. But after her mother had found her four years later, everything changed for them. Only two years later, Paris was changed forever, her heart abused.

~*~

"Damn it," she whispered as she walked to the Slytherin table, all the eyes in the room on her. Since she didn't know anybody, and the only left sat was next to Draco Malfoy, she had no choice but to sit next to him. When she did, McGonagall started sorting the first years who looked more frightened than ever.
"Hey, Paris," Malfoy said in a low voice. "Haven't talked to you in ten years. What's been going on in Miss Jameson's world?"
"Draco," she said, keeping her gaze away from him. Knowing that if she did look into his piercing ice blue eyes, she'd get lost. "You know that things are different and that I'd rather be in Gryffindor so-."
Suddenly hot lips were pressed gently on the back of her neck. She practically froze. As she turned around to push him away from her body, his lips found hers...

~*~

She ran down the street, her throat burning with every breath she inhaled. Her messy hair hit her face as she ran, sticking to her face, which she didn't bother to wipe away. Tears continued to fall down her cheeks and neck.
"Daddy!" she screamed, the howling wind drowning out her voice. Her eyes scanned every part of ground she could, desperate to find her father. Or anybody who could help her.
Moonlight shown above her, illuminating very little, but just enough so that she could see. The streetlights buzzed and crackled, soon giving out entirely.
The young girl stopped and dropped to her knees, tears falling off her cheeks to the grass. She heard something or someone coming closer to her and she looked up, praying it would be her father. Even though he had hurt her mother and made her cry, she loved him, and he was her only hope of being saved.
When she looked up, she saw huge gates hovering over her, an even bigger house behind it. Then she saw a boy walking up to her, and fear practically froze her blood. As the boy came closer, she moved backwards, walking on her knees.
The boy opened the gates and walked closer to her. "Hi," he said, without one tone of hatred. "My name Draco Malfoy. Who are you?"
"I-I'm Pa-Paris," the girl said, her tears almost choking her. "Pa-Paris Ja-Jameson. I-I'm sorry for i-intruding your pr-property."
"It's okay," the boy Draco Malfoy said as he walked closer to her, running a hand through his silky blonde hair. "Do you, uh, want to come in? I mean, will you parents let you?"
"My mother's gone and my father's gone," Paris said, looking down at the green grass, running her shaking fingers through it.
"Do you know when they'll be back," Draco asked. Paris looked up at him and stood up. She didn't dare walk closer to the mysterious boy ahead of her.
"I wish I knew when," she whispered. Then she yelled, "I don't know! My mother left four years ago! And my stupid father said was 'I'm sorry for leaving you this way!' Do you have any idea how much I've cried! You probably have wonderful parents who love you!"
"Shh," Draco said, walking up to her and pulling her in his arms. "Shh, it's all right. You can stay here." Paris cried on his shoulder while listening to his soothing words...

~*~

She pulled back immediately, pushing him away from her. Tears fell down her cheek and she stood, running towards the door.
"Paris!" the word stopped her. She turned back around and looked over at Malfoy. He wasn't saying either and she realized it hadn't been him yelling her name. Fearfully, she looked over at the Gryffindor table and saw Harry standing up. The rest of the room was too busy eating to look at her. Paris saw Harry's expression and wanted to cry.

~*~

Harry looked over at Paris at the Slytherin table and saw her kissing Malfoy. Anger bubbled up inside him. He thought she had known better than to do that. And why was she kissing him? She didn't even know him. Or so Harry thought...

~*~

Paris groaned in her sleep, a terrifying dream playing through her head...

"Draco!" Paris yelled, walking over the grass. Sweat ran down her face as the sun beat down on her. "Draco!"
Where are they, she thought as panic overthrew her. She had been left two times already by her parents. Had Draco and his parents deserted her too? She thought he had loved her enough not to do that.
After she had checked outside, she went back inside the mansion to look for him. It seemed like the house got bigger every day, and more rooms were left undiscovered.
He must be in there, she thought, knowing it was more of hope than reality. She walked up the many staircases and finally she heard Draco's voice...and others.
"But Father!" Draco yelled. "She can't leave! I don't want her to!"
"What," she whispered to herself. Was Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy going to kick her out? She had lived with them for four years and they had treated her like family. She walked a little closer to the voices.
"Draco," she heard Mr. Malfoy saying. "She has to leave. She doesn't belong here."
"Mother!" Draco yelled, and she could tell he was on the verge of crying. "You won't let her leave! I love her!"
"Nonsense!" Mr. Malfoy yelled. "Malfoy's do not feel love! They do not have feelings! And they do not show those feelings for people out of their family!"
"Lucius," Mrs. Malfoy said, urging him to calm down. "Sit back down. We haven't heard her-."
"What the bloody hell is going on here..." Paris said as she walked into the room.
Her voice drawled as she walked in. She saw a woman standing a few feet away, a smile on her lips covered in dark red lipstick.
"Hello, Paris," she said. "Remember me?"
"Mo-Mother?" Paris said, hardly believing her eyes. "Mom?"
"Yes," her mother said. "I'm so sorry for leaving you when you were six. But I've been looking for you and your father for so long now."
"Wh-Where were you?" Paris asked. She had known her mother long enough to know she only came back fro stupid reasons, and then a few weeks later, she'd be gone again, coming back only if she needed money or help.
"Come on, Shavonda!" Draco yelled. "Why are you doing this!?"
"Didn't your father tell you?" her mother, Shavonda, asked. When Paris shook her head, Shavonda said, "The night before I left, your father and I agreed to take a break and he suggested I leave you. I wanted to say good-bye to you and believe me; I wanted you to come with me. But he wouldn't have it and threatened to kill me if I didn't leave the-."
"YOU SAID YOU WERE IN AZKABAN!" Draco yelled, his face outraged. "YOU NEVER SAID THAT YOU AND YOUR HUSBAND WANTED A BREAK!"
"Draco!" Mrs. Malfoy said. "Sit back down! You do not speak to guests like that!"
"Why are you here?" Paris asked.
"I'll just be waiting outside, Paris," Shavonda said, glaring at Draco. "Please hurry." And she was gone again.
"Why is she here, Draco?" Paris asked, turning to Draco, whose face was red and his eyes glistening with tears.
"I think you'd better go," Mr. Malfoy said, standing up. "Your mother would not like it if you came back in here. So do not come back inside this house."
Paris nodded and said, "Good-bye Draco," before turning around, walking over to the room she had slept in for the last four years, packed her things, and walked out of the Malfoy Mansion.
Her mother was leaned against a black convertible with tinted windows. She smiled at Paris when she walked out.
"Get in the car," Shavonda said, opening her door and climbing in. Paris walked over to the passenger seat and opened he door before climbing in. Shavonda started the car before Paris had gotten her seat belt off and pelted down the driveway dangerously.

Shavonda didn't speak for the whole ride, and Paris was afraid to utter a word.
"Get out," Shavonda finally said when she came to a breath taking halt. Paris looked out the tinted window at an old house. The grass grown large, weeds covering the grass. The windows were cracked and the shutters hanging off nails. Paris looked back at her mother, feeling like she was six years old again; scared. "Come on, Paris. Did you seriously believe my sob story? My God, you're how old now? Twelve?"
"Fourteen," Paris whispered, looking out the window. She couldn't let her mother see her crying like this. "I'm fourteen years old, Mom! You would know that if your arse was ever around! At least Daddy stayed for four years! All you did was run away! You know why? Because you're an old hag who can't do anyth-."
"Don't talk to me like that, Paris," Shavonda yelled, smacking her daughter. "Maybe if you had been a better daughter, maybe if your father hadn't kicked me ou-!"
"Daddy never kicked you out! He said that you cheated on him and ran away with some other...pervert!" She couldn't feel her cheek anymore from the smack, but she didn't care.
"Maybe if your fath-."
"You didn't even know Daddy! All you knew about him was he was a guy! And you were a whore who would've slept with anyone to get cash! So you have no business with me!"
"Get out of my car. And never try to contact me ag-."
"You're the one who found me! I didn't want to leave Draco! You're the one who split us up! Just because I loved him and you don't have anybody to love, you have to take the one I love away from me! It's no wonder Daddy wanted a divorce from you! You're nothing but a cheap whore who left her six year old daughter with nothing so much as good-bye!"
"Get out of my car before I kill you," Shavonda was looking out the front window and the empty street. Her voice was calm, but rash.
Paris glared at her mother before reached behind her and grabbed her suitcase. As she opened her door, she glared at her so-called 'mother.'
"I feel so stupid," Paris said. "I wished for you and Daddy to come back for eight years. And when you do come back, I wish nothing but for you to rot in hell." Paris slammed the door and turned, walking to the rotting house. She turned around and saw Shavonda's, no longer her mother; car speeding down the street and it was like deja vou all over again...

Paris bolted in her up taking a sharp breath, her eyes still closed tightly. She put her hand over her chest, trying to calm herself.
"Oh my god," she whispered. "Please let that be a dream. Please say I'm six years old. Please let Mommy and Daddy still be together. Please say I haven't met Harry or Draco. Please say I'm not in the Slytherin house."
But when she opened her eyes, she was proved wrong. She was lying under a green and silver blanket. It was thick, but somehow, she was freezing.
Paris thought about where she went and what had happened after Shavonda left her, yet again...

It had been two years, and she now lived with her cousin, Nick, and his parents. But strange things had been happening to her. Lately she had been seeing someone in her dreams, someone who recognized but could not put a name to him. One morning she had woken with cuts and scars all over her body. That was the day that nothing, but everything, made sense to her.
She had been lonely, as usual, when an owl swooped into one of the opened windows, a letter tired to its leg. When she had opened it, tears began to fall down her cheeks:

Dear Paris,

You may be wondering who this is. This is Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You have been going to Durmstrng for the past four years. But on September first, you will be going to Hogwarts. A list of items is enclosed in this very letter as well. The train for Hogwarts is at King's Cross station, train 9 3/4, at exactly eleven o' clock AM.
Remember: September first, King's Cross Station, 9 3/4, at exactly eleven o' clock AM. We look forward to meeting you.

Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore

Paris ran into the kitchen where Nick was looking blankly into the fridge. "Nick! Guess what?"
"Oh," Nick said, shaking his head. He turned to look at Paris and asked, "What?"
"We're going to Hogwarts this year!"

Paris wiped the tears off her cheeks and stood up. She walked over to a mirror not to far away from the bed. As she looked into the mirror, all she saw was lonely, young girl, who had nothing to do in life. Except be a slave to a monster.