Prologue

"Oh please, Lucious. We can't just leave her all alone!" Narcissa Malfoy pleaded with her husband as her long, chalk-white fingernails dug deep into the shoulders of the little girl.

"Well we can't very well bring home a strange child to live with us! How could we explain her? And what of Draco? How do you think he would feel?" snarled Lucious, always coming to the defense of his only son. The couple continued to argue in front of a book store on one of London's more crowded streets. Through it all, the little girl remained quiet and still, staring at the damp cobblestone ground. If the fighting bothered her, she didn't show it. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her and her breathing was steady. Not a single emotion could be read on her face; she was calm and focused. Only when Narcissa suddenly wrapped a protective arm tightly across her chest did she even flinch.

"She's been outside on the street every week we've been here. She's alone and so young and… just look," she paused to bend down and tilt the girl's face up towards Lucious, "she must be about Draco's age. Imagine our son, Lucious, all alone in the cold. Wouldn't you want a loving family to find him and care for him?"

For an instant, it seemed that Lucious was wavering in his opinion. But with a stern exhale through his nose, he turned his back to his wife and the child.

"I'm not saying anymore, Narcissa. We're leaving now, and I do not want this subject brought up ever again, do you understand?"

Slowly, Narcissa began to release her grip on the small girl and solemnly walk towards her husband. She paused to look back at the child, but she just stared straight ahead. It was almost as if she hadn't noticed the couple standing with her for the past ten minutes. The Malfoys watched as the girl eerily walked backwards to her original spot in front of the book store. Her eyes remained focused on some unknown and distant object as she sat down, hugged her legs up against her chest, and rested her chin on a knee.

The girl remained still for hours.

Rain beat down on her auburn hair. People dropped coins at her feet. Nothing caused her to move. She just sat, motionless, hugging her small legs tightly to her frail body.

Night fell. As if some unknown force compelled her, the girl stood up and began walking around the corner. She walked briskly, despite the frigid air slicing against her torn clothes. She had only made it half a block when she bumped into someone. She gasped; it was, perhaps, the first sound to escape her lips that entire day. She looked up to see the same tall blond man that had been arguing with his wife earlier that day. He held out a hand to her,

"My wife has convinced me to take you home. Just for the a few days, however, until we figure out where you belong."

The girl stared at his hand, encased in a black leather glove. She looked over her shoulder, peered behind his torso to look down the street, and then back up at him. Without a word, she grabbed his hand and let him lead her to a horse-drawn carriage down the block.

The ride was quick, maybe twenty minutes, and when the carriage stopped the little girl climbed out without any assistance and made for the front door. She paused, allowing Lucious to open it for her, and cautiously stepped inside. A great spiral staircase sprawled out before her and at the top, she saw a young blond boy, about her age, peering out at her from behind the rails. At the sound of the mahogany door shutting, Narcissa Malfoy scooped up her small son and ran down the stairs. She knelt so she was eye level with the girl.

"You're safe now, dear. We'll look after you. Can you tell us your name?" On that, she rose to stand next to her husband and child. To the little girl, the sight of these three white-haired people looking down on her was almost frightening. She gave a polite half smile, but did not answer their question. Without warning, the boy demanded loudly,

"Come on then, what're we supposed to call you?"

Almost inaudibly, the child cleared her throat and stepped forward, as if preparing for a great stage performance.

"My name is Clementine."