Dark Heiress

Chapter 1- Happy Families

"Flora, are you sure this is the dress my mother wanted me to wear? It's so tight that I can hardly breathe and it makes me look like some sort of floozy!"

"Yes, Young Miss. The Madam is telling Flora that this is most definitely Young Miss' dress. I is sorry you is not breathing, but I is just doing what is being told to Flora."

Melantha gazed with disgust at the dress that seemed to be painted on. It was satin in a lurid shade of pink, strung together with black lace and ribbon, clinging shamelessly to every facet of her lithe sixteen-year-old body. It barely covered her modest chest and hardly reached her thigh. She would be mortified to be seen in such atrocious attire. It amazed her, that for all her family's wealth, her mother had a shocking lack of taste, or even class for that matter.

"Tsk, tsk. Such a lovely young lady reduced to looking like one of Knockturn Alley's finest."

"Oh, shut up, or you'll soon find yourself a pile of shards!" she snapped at the mirror, which quickly grew quiet. Inwardly, though she couldn't help but agree with that annoying mirror, she wished her parents weren't so averse to anything even slightly Muggle related, as she might have had a more pleasant, silent one ages ago.

"Ah, I see you're wearing the dress I picked out for you. Hmm, I should've probably had it taken in a bit, perhaps have it show just a little more leg, but I suppose it'll have to do."
Her mother had just entered the room and was now examining the dress in awe.

"Mother, really, you can't possibly mean for me to wear this- this monstrosity!"

"Now listen here, you ungrateful, little wretch! I paid good money for that dress. We have very important guests arriving, and you will do your best to impress them! Mr. Malfoy and that charming son of his will be here shortly to discuss a very important, uh, business matter; so you will be dressed and waiting to greet them on their arrival."

"Lucius Malfoy! That prat, charming? I hardly think so. Besides, if Father's consorting with the Malfoys regarding business, what ever does it have to do with me? Why should I have to put up with their insufferable presence?"

Still glaring at the reflection of the offending garment in her mirror, Melantha failed to notice her mother shift uneasily.
Taking the offensive, her mother responded, "Impertinent brat! You will exercise some measure of control over that tongue of yours, or I'll be sure to have it permanently removed. I'll not have you embarrassing your father and I simply because you failed to remember your place. Am I understood?"

Melantha rolled her eyes, "Yes, Mother."

How she could forget the importance of always keeping up appearances?

"Having said that, I expect you ready and waiting in the entrance hall, within the next five minutes to welcome our guests. Oh, and do add some rouge to your face, you're much too pale."

With that, her mother totted out, most probably to inspect the already perfectly set sitting room.

Stepping away from the mirror, she hastily grabbed her wand from the dresser and pointed it at herself, muttering a quick Evanesco. The dress instantly disappeared and she hurriedly made for her armoire.

"Oh, Young Miss, you mustn't!" squealed the mortified house-elf. "The Madam is going to being very angry with the Young Miss!"

"Flora, I simply cannot wear that horrid dress. I'll deal with Mother if I have to."

"Flora cannot be watching Young Miss disobey her Madam. Young Miss must excuse Flora while she is getting into trouble."
In an instant, the house-elf had disappeared. Melantha sighed; she would never understand these creatures.

Aha. Perfect. She had found one of her favourite dresses and the weather was still favourable enough to wear it. She quickly donned the simple, white, calf-length dress. It fell slightly off the shoulder, and was fitted along the bust-line while flowing loosely below. Pulling on a pair of flat, black sandals that tied around the ankles, she then ran a brush through her slightly wavy, dark, waist-length hair, allowing it to fall loosely across her back.

Taking a glance at her appearance in the mirror, Melantha was pleased with her little makeover. Her eyes were drawn to her neck, where an ornate necklace sat. It had what she assumed was a kind of large, oval diamond embedded in it. But there was something eerie about it; she knew it had to be enchanted, as she was unable to remove it. Her mother always told her that she should be more appreciative of her lovely trinket, and to remember that it did not behove her to ask foolish questions.

Always with the secrets.

She exited her room and made for the stairs not a moment too soon. She could hear what she assumed were the Malfoys being admitted into the drawing room by one of the house-elves.

Descending the stairs to the entrance hall, she could already hear her father and Malfoy Senior engaged in conversation while her mother was apparently preoccupied in fawning over Lucius. She quickly fell into place alongside her mother, hoping that her tardiness would go unnoticed.

However, she was not really concerned with how her mother would feel once she noticed her change in clothes; Melantha knew that she wouldn't dare offer a derogatory comment while in the presence of guests such as the Malfoys.

"Ah, Mrs Par--"

"Now, now Lucius, my dear boy, there's no need for such formalities, especially when we're practically family. Please, do call me Peony."
Her mother's coquettish behaviour was enough to sicken her. It was almost as bad as having to watch that Lucius Malfoy and his repugnant act with her mother.

Admittedly (not that she would ever admit it, even with a litre of force-fed Veritaserum), he was rather good looking. However, due to the fact that he knew so and certainly flaunted his looks (and his wealth, charm, and ever-chic apparel), she found him meretricious and utterly disgusting.

Melantha knew exactly what kind of people the Malfoys, and her own parents for that matter, were; but there was a sort of tacit understanding that such ideas never be discussed, ever. And this was why she completely understood how her parents could be so complaisant regarding the Malfoys, Blacks, Lestranges, Notts, or really quite a number of some the old renowned, pureblood families, phoenixes of a feather and all that.
"Peony it is, my dear Madam. And might I add that you look as lovely as ever."

There it was, his over dosage of charm that he always seemed to ooze, like some cheap aftershave that had been hastily slathered on. While he was bending to plant a kiss on her out-stretched hand, her mother was too preoccupied giggling that high-pitched, girlish laugh of hers to notice the slight, almost imperceptible sneer he gave as he addressed her. Melantha, however, did not; she was definitely not fooled by his glamour.

"Ah, and this must be the very lovely Melantha."

He leaned in to take her hand and lingered slightly as he placed a kiss on it. She was barely able to contain her cringe; his touch made her skin crawl.

"Well, I can see where your daughter gets her beauty from, Peony. You look not a day older than sixteen yourself, Madam."

The git still hadn't released her hand from his paw. Worse still was that he was bathing her mother in all of his false adulation and she was simply lapping it up. While Melantha was tall and lean, with pale skin and dark eyes and hair, her mother was by no means a beauty queen. A strawberry blonde (courtesy of the local apothecary), her hair had been charmed into an elaborate beehive. She was a pudgy woman with a pug-like face that was hidden behind multiple layers of make-up. She was dressed in garish, violet dress robes that were ostentatiously decked with the entirety of the family jewels. Apparently, her mother had not understood the concept of less is more.

Her father was no better in the looks department. He was rotund, with brown hair that was thinning, and murky, green eyes. Melantha was grateful, for at the very least, whatever had happened to her in the gene pool, she held no great resemblance to her parents.

"My, my, Lucius, you do know how to flatter this lady! Melantha here would be only too lucky if she were to come across a more fine young man, wouldn't you Melantha?" The last bit that was directed to her was nothing short of a snarl.

Reluctant as she was to be a part of this, Melantha knew that it was better to please her mother even if she wasn't too enthusiastic in doing so, and so she bit back the more colourful opinions she had of Lucius and nonchalantly replied, "Yes Mother, of course."

Her mother shot her a sharp look in warning, which translated to, 'mess this up and there will be consequences', although what this was, she had yet to find out.

The group made their way into the sitting-room where her father and Malfoy Senior sat across from each other in the wind-back seats by the fireplace, while her mother seemed to take up an entire settee by herself.

"Lucius, why don't you and Melantha take that lovely seat by the window, mm?" Peony motioned towards a love-seat by the window which had a view of the estate grounds.

The pair were seated, in Melantha's opinion, too close for comfort. Once everyone was settled, Flora appeared with refreshments consisting of the very best chamomile tea, and of course, Peony's favourite petit fours (which were in all probability responsible for her expanding waistline), as well as an array of the finest pastries, courtesy of Gusty, the estates' French kitchen-elf.

Malfoy Senior began the conversation once more, "So tell me, Mortimer, I hear you have had special tutors for Melantha, but what of Hogwarts? I understand that that Muggle-loving fool Dumbledore is still in charge, but surely you would not break with tradition for that reason alone. What say you?"

Abraxas Malfoy. Well, there was a lech if she ever saw one and she had certainly not missed that leer he had given her on arrival, or rather she thought she was not meant to. Truly like father like son. She waited for her father to respond to Malfoy Senior, for she had many a time wondered the same but the reasoning had never been plausible for her liking.

"Abraxas, we have been friends for a long time, you should trust that I would not act in foolish haste. My wife and I agreed a long time ago that Melantha--" here he said her name in distaste as he always did. Sure, both her parents could always find some fault with her, but it had always puzzled her as to why her father could so strongly despise her. At times, he would be openly hostile with her for seemingly no apparent reason.

"--was destined for much greater things. For her to truly be an asset, there were simply things that Hogwarts could never teach her. So we took it upon ourselves to ensure that Melantha was educated in a way that would be best suited to our... cause. She has been well schooled in the old magic, the most revered and cherished by our noble kin. It is the stuff that that fool would rather the youth of today never know, which is such a shame, really. But then, it is their loss."

Oh, so that's how he described her having to study the Dark Arts in such depth above all else. Yes, she knew that well; there probably wasn't a dark tome she hadn't been made to read in exact and perfect detail. Even her pureblood fascist parents didn't know half of what she had learned during her 'special tutoring'.

If anything, she felt as though she was being skillfully trained in the Dark Arts, that and all the ideals on pureblood supremacy they tried so hard to impress upon her. However, they failed abysmally in the latter as Melantha hated such ways of thinking. However, she reluctantly admitted to herself that airing her unique views, especially in present company, would most likely get her killed.

Mortimer continued, "I daresay the girl knows more than our young Lucius here. She is surprisingly skilled and proficient. I do believe that her tutor has mentioned that she is quite adept at spell casting and even managed to surpass his own skills. I, of course, had to let him go after that bit of information, but really, she somehow managed to exceed all expectations."

While her father tried to sound blithe while speaking about her, Melantha was quick to pick up on the disdain he actually felt for her every time he spoke of her.

Malfoy Senior responded after a moment of thought, "Mm, you know Mortimer, I am loath to admit that I actually agree with you. While Lucius is undeniably talented, what with being such a credit to Slytherin as Head Boy and Quidditch captain, I doubt even he has accomplished as much as you proclaim this young lady has. But then, talk is cheap. However, being the lovely thing that she is, for now I suppose your word will do. You do realise though, that in due course she will be required to prove some of her many, ah, talents?"

"But of course. I am no novice when it comes to dealing with the finer points within the cause. The girl will do what is asked of her, and more if need be." Her father had taken on a dangerous tone as he said the last few words.

Melantha had been observing the exchange between her father and Malfoy Senior intently; she definitely did not like the way the conversation was going, especially as it had all been concerning her. The 'deal' she had been privy to earlier was looking decidedly ominous, and she had a sinking suspicion that the main bargaining chip was closer to home than her liking.

Her mother, who had until now been silently staring at the Malfoys with something akin to lust in her eyes, decided to speak up, much to Melantha's chagrin.

"Melantha, the weather is much too fine for a young pair such as yourselves to be cooped up inside. Why don't you take dear Lucius for a walk around the estate gardens? Perhaps you may even find it a welcome opportunity to get better acquainted with one another," she added hopefully.

Ugh. That's all she needed, quality time with Malfoy. Alone. Without the pretence of having to display some form of decorum, she was quite sure that this was the perfect opportunity he and his roving hands needed. She only wondered whose wand would be drawn first.

"I believe that would be delightful, Madam. Shall we, Melantha?"
Damn him.

The smug bastard had risen and was now smirking at her. She knew better than to decline his proffered arm, however much it irked her. Linking arms, they made their way out the patio. Ignoring the fact that she was supposed to be providing the tour of the gardens, Lucius began to steer them off towards a more secluded area, where the hedges and shrubbery would shield them from prying eyes.

Melantha was beginning to wish she actually had worn that horrid pink dress. At the very least, it might have repulsed him enough to refrain from exercising his liberty with her.