I don't own Gossip Girl or Harry Potter.

Another loud scream was heard from behind the thick oak door and a cloaked Lucius Malfoy winced. "It shouldn't be long now," he murmured, glancing at the taller of his two companions. Severus Snape nodded in agreement and let out a puff of breath as a healthy baby's cry broke through the tension that had filled the dark corridor.

The third, silent man studied the door and just for a moment, a hint of a smile hovered around his mouth. It was gone quickly as the woman again began to scream.

Silence fell a few minutes later and a weary looking nurse came out of the room, carrying a wriggling blanketed baby in her arms. She handed the child to its father and let out a sigh. "Two births, sir."

Voldemort studied the baby in his arms, gently cradling her as she stopped crying. He pulled down his hood, exposing his bald head, and pushed back the blankets covering the child's face. The baby's eyes were a very dark brown, so dark they seemed almost black in the candlelight. Her eyes gazed into his and he sucked in a sharp breath.

"The twins came before their time but it has done the girl no harm," the nurse said quietly, wringing her hands.

"A girl," Lucius commented sympathetically. "Just a girl."

"Be careful, Lucius," Voldemort replied coldly, fixing his eyes on the soft black curls on his daughter's head. "Girls have their uses."

"Of course, my Lord," Malfoy said apologetically, taking a step back from his master.

"And the boy?" Voldemort rasped to the nurse, "How is the boy?"

"Stillborn," the woman whispered, "The cord was wrapped around his neck."

Malfoy and Snape glanced at each other in alarm as their master nodded slowly. "And their mother?" Voldemort asked quietly, finally raising his dead eyes to the nurse's brown ones. Her silence gave him his reply and he nodded and closed his eyes, squeezing them together tightly in an unusual show of emotion. He sighed deeply and looked back at the girl in his arms.

The nurse wrung her hands and bit her lip. "With your permission Sirs... Her young eyes have witnessed death. The death of her mother. Such things can be damaging, even to a child her age..."

Snape rudely cut her off. "You mean to say that the girl will be affected by seeing her mother die? She was not ten minutes old. She cannot possibly be damaged by that." The nurse nodded submissively and raised her hands in apology.

"Her mother wanted her to be named 'Blair'. She hoped her to be a beacon of light in the world of darkness that I have chosen to reside in," Voldemort said emotionlessly, gazing at the child. "Blair Charis Waldorf: a powerful name for a powerful child. She will be raised by her mother's sister and her husband. They are pure-blood and will ensure that she receives a magical education befitting her station. It would damage her upbringing to be associated with this world. With my world." He handed the child back to the nurse and pressed a gold ring with an ample sized ruby nestled in the centre into the baby's tiny hands. "This was her mother's. See that she wears it when she is old enough."

He turned and wordlessly walked away, unwilling to get too attached to the baby. If she was to become what he needed her to be, love was too much of a risk.

Snape and Malfoy offered half smiles at the nurse before scurrying worriedly after him.

Sixteen years later...

Blair glanced up at the train disdainfully, wrinkling her nose in disgust as the large red machine let out another puff of grey smoke. She glanced back at her Aunt Eleanor and Uncle Cyrus and her cousins, Georgetta and Cybill and pulled a face as she watched them embrace each other.

"Promise us you'll write, B?" Cybill said mournfully, clutching her sister's hand.

"I promise," Blair replied with a smile. "I'll miss you. All of you."

It was almost like they were in mourning. Blair rolled her eyes and called a final goodbye, hugging her house elf Dorota tightly. "Look after them. Please," Blair whispered quietly, smiling as the tiny Dorota leaned up and kissed her on the cheek.

"Yes, Miss Blair. Dorota will miss you, Miss Blair."

Blair smirked at her beloved house elf and waved goodbye to her family, pulling off her Chanel sunglasses and boarding the Hogwarts Express. She was almost knocked over by a tall red haired boy carrying an armful of carbohydrate and fat-filled food.

"Would you watch where you're going?" She said immediately, dusting crumbs off of her designer robe. She looked him up and down and smirked when he attempted to neaten his appearance.

Her scrutiny made him blush and he opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by another female voice. "Ron, where on earth- Oh. Who's this then?" The voice spoke in the 'Queen's English', a dialect Blair knew was dying in England.

She turned and gazed at the girl behind her, holding back a snort as she appraised the girl's frizzy hair and decidedly 'natural' appearance. The short, brown haired girl thrust out an awkward hand and gave Blair a tight smile. "Hello... I'm Hermione. Are you new? I haven't seen you before. I'll show you where the first years go."

"Actually, I'm not a first year, I'm transferring into Hogwarts' sixth year from another school," Blair said politely.

Hermione nodded. "We're sixth years too. And prefects." She subconsciously stood up a little straighter and nudged Ron in frustration, who was staring at the swell of Blair's breasts beneath her scoop-neck dress.

"If you'd be kind enough to show me to the Professor's carriage, I'm supposed to wait there for Professor Snape. He knows that I'm coming," Blair replied, smiling tightly at the red-haired boy.

With that, Blair and Hermione set off down the train, the latter offering the former mumbled information about the school.

The noise of a carriage door sliding open startled Hermione and a stout plain girl with a ruddy complexion and short black hair stepped out and sneered. "Hello, Granger. You're looking as... frizzy as ever." A chorus of chuckles came from inside the compartment and Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"Bugger off, Bulstrode. I'm not in the mood," Hermione answered tiredly, making a gesture to usher Millicent out of the way. Millicent, however, was in no mood to cooperate, and pulled the compartment doors closed, trapping Hermione against the wall.

"Touchy touchy. Is Weasel not keeping you satisfied?" She ribbed cruelly, and Hermione went red. Blair had heard enough and stepped between the two girls.

She was smaller than 'Bulstrode', and probably weighed half as less, but even in her shorter height and leaner body, Millicent found that this new girl was quite intimidating. "I do believe she asked you to move," Blair said stonily.

Millicent smirked at Blair. "You're a cheeky one, aren't you? You'll soon learn your place here if you insist on going 'round with Mudbloods like her."

"As long as that place is away from you and the disgusting perfume that you're wearing, I really don't care," Blair remarked conversationally, raising an eyebrow. "If you'll excuse us, I'm going to be late."

Millicent glared between Blair and Hermione, choosing to blame Hermione for the other girl's insult. "Better keep her in line, Granger, or you'll be the one who suffers the consequences."

Blair scoffed in disbelief. "You really need to learn some manners. Now, please move out of the way."

Millicent shifted in the corridor so that she was completely blocking the passage. "Bugger off." She grinned, impressed with her own bravado, and Blair shook her head in disgust.

"Fine." Before Millicent Bulstrode could blink, Blair had drawn her wand and had given the taller girl ears, a snout, trotters for hands and feet and a curly pig's tail. Hermione blinked at Millicent and then back at Blair, before reopening the compartment doors and shoving Millicent inside, locking the doors behind her with a quick spell.

"Thanks. That was brilliant," Hermione said gratefully, smiling at Blair.

Blair shrugged and sighed. "At least now her appearance matches her personality. Come on; take me to Professor Snape before any other fat girls with pointless vendettas decide to accost you and delay us more. I hate being late, it's inexcusably rude."

Hermione appraised the other girl curiously for a moment, and then nodded. "Fair enough."

...

"... Simply unacceptable... Not even reached the school yet... Millicent is in my house... Can't just turn people who annoy you into farm animals..."

When Snape had finished, Blair rolled her eyes. "Perhaps if you taught the people in your house some manners, this wouldn't have happened."

"Miss Waldorf, I am a teacher. You cannot speak to me so familiarly," Snape said angrily, much to Blair's amusement. "You will apologise to Miss Bulstrode. Consider yourself lucky that you have not received a more serious punishment."

Blair smiled at him condescendingly. "I'm not going to apologise to a bully. I would rather have a real punishment than do something that I don't agree with. You should understand that more than anyone else."

Snape sighed, defeated. "Fine. Just try and keep out of trouble for the rest of the journey."

"I'm not making any promises," Blair replied with a shrug.

"Just go."

...

Snape told Blair that she was to wait in a private room just off of the Great Hall, the same room where the champions had been sent in the fourth year during the Triwizard Tournament. There she would amuse herself whilst the first years were sorted and then she would be introduced. Snape informed her that Dumbledore knew of her parentage but was unaware that Blair herself knew, and she seemed reasonably satisfied by this. Before Snape left her alone in the room, he pulled up his left sleeve and revealed his Dark Mark.

"Touch it with your wand," he had instructed, his voice unusually quiet. "I have been told to make you touch it when you are secure so that your father becomes aware. Only those loyal to him within a mile or so will feel the burn, and there are only five students in the whole school who have taken the mark. You need not to worry about being exposed so early on."

Blair had sighed and drew her wand, pressing the tip into the skull on Snape's forearm. He hissed with the burn but she pressed harder, gripping his arm tightly until the entire mark was freshly black, her eyes flashing wildly. In that instant, Snape saw her father within her, and all at once realised that his Lord's decade-old plot was finally being carried out. It terrified him.

She dropped Snape's arm and pushed it away from her, like it had bitten her. Blair clapped a hand over her mouth to contain her scream and turned away from Snape. His right hand hovered over her shoulder but he dared not to touch her.

He had been warned that she had a temper like her father, but here was the evidence. Blair hated these moments, the moments when she could feel her father's blood running in her veins, when she could feel his genetic influence on her personality.

Snape hovered uncomfortably, unsure of what to say.

"What now?" Blair said in exasperation, rolling her eyes.

"Just be careful who you trust," he replied softly, his expression hard to read.

"Fine. Will you leave now, please?" she whispered, stepping to the window and staring out into what had become a cold, wet night.

"Of course." As Snape opened the door she heard Dumbledore welcome the upper year groups back to Hogwarts and then the nervous footsteps of the first years.

She felt numb. Numb and cold. Blair closed her eyes and leaned her head against the glass, taking even breaths to steady herself.

Eventually she heard the door creak open and sighed, turning to face Dumbledore with a calm look on her face.

"Miss Waldorf, please sit down," Dumbledore instructed in his quiet, gentle voice, offering Blair the comfiest seat whilst he himself took a hard, wooden one. "Before we begin, do you have any questions to ask?" When Blair shook her head, Dumbledore continued. "Salem Institute was very prestigious; all pure-bloods and half-bloods. I can assure you that, here at Hogwarts, we do not discriminate against blood status. I would hope that a student as progressed and intelligent as yourself would not seek to offend somebody by using their heritage as an insult."

Blair shook her head again, adjusting her headband with her manicured fingernails. "Of course not, Professor."

Dumbledore smiled kindly at her. "What has passed has passed. Aside from the incident on the train with Miss Bulstrode, let this be a new beginning for you at Hogwarts. Then let us begin."

Dumbledore exited the room first, announcing her arrival as a transferring student from the Salem Institute in the USA and that she would be sorted (as a first year would) into one of the four houses.

When Blair heard her name mentioned, she took a deep breath and pushed open the wooden door leading onto the stage in the Great Hall. Almost at once the silence was filled with excited appreciative whispers and Blair sighed as she glanced over at the Slytherin table.

..

Draco Malfoy sat in his usual position in between Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson and across from a bandaged Millicent Bulstrode. He was not interested in the Sorting of the first years and only clapped when the other members of his house did. He studied his almost-empty goblet of spiked pumpkin juice and longed for the feast to start so that he could continue with his drinking. The Great Hall was suddenly filled with whispers about the beauty of the girl on the stage.

His Dark Mark burned again for the second time that night, and he looked warily at Crabbe, Goyle and Zabini as they too began to touch their left forearms again. He saw Snape wince and grab his own left forearm as if in great pain, and then noticed that the Professor was staring cautiously at the girl that Dumbledore had presumably been prattling on about.

He glanced up and his breath caught as he watched the girl saunter slowly towards the tall stool in the centre of the stage and sit herself gracefully on it, crossing her legs at the ankles in the way Draco had seen his mother do countless times.

This simple action was a sure sign of good breeding that he had been taught to recognize by his father. The girl twisted her head around and looked directly at Snape, who nodded almost immeasurably back at her. She appeared a little relieved and closed her eyes as if she could finally rest her worries.

Dumbledore quietened the hall and placed the Sorting Hat on her head.

Without even knowing her first name, he knew from the quality of her robes, her delicious arrogance, her smirk, her porcelain skin, and the way that her mere presence demanded attention and respect that she was probably from a long line of powerful pure-bloods. Without taking his eyes from the brunette on the stage, Malfoy muttered a "Who is she?" to Blaise Zabini, who smirked.

"Blair Waldorf. Sixth year transfer from the Salem Institute. She's American. And gorgeous, if I might add," he replied, frowning when Snape let out a loud, conspicuous cough to silence them.

The Waldorf family was descended from one of the Peverell Brothers, of which one Draco was unsure, and had been a formidable family in the wizarding community in the past. They had been linked with Death Eaters and their home was even used by Voldemort himself as a stronghold before he fell from power. However, for the past twenty years or so, neither hide nor hair had been heard from any of them. Until now.

Meanwhile, the Sorting Hat was suspiciously silent, as was Blair, though inside Blair's mind the two were having a loud argument over which house she would be placed into.

"I tell you, girl, I will not put another of your blood line into Slytherin."

Blair mentally shrieked in frustration. "My blood line is nothing to do with me. I did not choose my parents!"

"Be that as it may, it is too dangerous," the Sorting Hat argued back, showing Blair an image of what her father had done whilst at the school. Blair inwardly winced but protested again.

"I am not my father. I am Blair Charis Waldorf. I may share his blood but I do not share his nature or his name. I am also half of my mother, who was a good and decent woman. She cannot be blamed for falling in love. I am not my father. I am not a bloodthirsty prejudiced monster, and would appreciate it if I could be judged as an individual student as you have judged others. Dumbledore knows who my father is and he knows who my mother is. You have no right to place me in the wrong house. You know that I should be in Slytherin."

In her mind, the Sorting Hat did not disagree, and Blair knew she had triumphed.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Only Draco noticed the flicker of worry that settled on Dumbledore for no longer than a couple of seconds, and frowned as he saw a smirk form on Blair's lips. It was a dangerous smirk, a smirk of victory, and Draco's frown deepened into an uneasy scowl until her eyes caught his.

In spite of himself, Draco felt his own smirk pull at the edges of his lips and before he had realised what he had done, he had raised his now full goblet, stood up and toasted her, an action which was followed by the rest of Slytherin. It was almost as if the whole house was compelled by her, as if they felt they had no choice but to honour her. Draco decided to make a mental note of that and consider it at another time. By this time, Blair was sitting at the Slytherin table between Pansy and Daphne, her own goblet raised and inclined towards Draco in thanks, her dark enchanting eyes falling on him again.

This time, however, they were cool, appraising. She looked him up and down and dismissed him in a single glance, and Draco sat dazedly back into his seat. He folded his arms on the table and rested his head in them, and Blaise smirked.

"Blue balls already mate?"

Draco glared at him and then groaned admittedly. "I want her."

Blaise laughed. "Doubt you'll succeed in that one. Look at her. She's obviously a prudish virgin."

"The virgin part I may agree with. But she's not a prude. You look at her, Zabini. Her eyes; her lips, her figure. She'll be mine before Halloween."

"Fifty galleons say you won't," Zabini argued, seizing any opportunity to make money.

Draco gazed at his friend cautiously before holding out his hand. "Make it Christmas and you have a deal. I have a feeling she might be hard to crack."

"Done." Zabini reached out and shook Malfoys hand, clapping his friend on the back.

...

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