A Simple White Rose

That night I sat in my bed, in the room that Snape had arranged for me, reading the letter. It was written in beautifully looped handwriting, and I could not help but to admire my father's penmanship. It read as follows;

Katja:
I do hope that you now know just who your father is. And that you understand the arrangements necessary from your birth were not particularly in my liking, however, it was much safer that way. Do not fret, I had many people keeping an eye out for you as you grew and matured. I couldn't let my only child and heir to my new throne die before they were to take over. However, now that you are of age, I would enjoy a small word with you.
You are my daughter and therefore shall be my follower. I suggest that you do not attempt to fight my decisions, though I know it is in your nature as much as my own. You shall be a worthy member of my clan, just as you are a worthy daughter and adversary to those who oppose you. Also, congradulations on the acceptance into Slytherin. It will do wonders for you in the long run. By the way, when you visit, bring your snake.
With well wishes,
Your father.

I read and reread the letter for nearly an hour until Snape arrived at my door, without even attempting at a polite entry. He looked angry and tired, as if he abhored everyone in existance at the moment.

His supposed feelings mirrored my own.

"Your father wishes to speak... Tonight." His tone was... Well, to say the least, monotone. "Get dressed in your best robes. You mustn't allow him to see you like this." With that last statement he slithered out, reminding me much of Drekia, who was propped on my knee, and shut the door behind him.

I quickly dressed and picked up Dre, remembering the last line in my father's letter.

We arrived at the Malfoy Manor within less than a few moments, Snape apparating while holding my wrist. I looked around and saw no one in the main foyer, but as Severous dragged me into the dining room, I surveyed the main table with rapidly blinking eyes. Death Eaters surrounded the table, a few I recognized from Borgin and Burke's. Next, I met the eyes of Draco, who looked none too joyous about being here. He furrowed his brows and whispered something to Narcissa.

And then I noticed him. The sinister, canniving, ruthless bastard himself was placed at the head of the table, and it seemed that he was staring directly behind me. I took a bow, remembering my manners, keeping a controlled, emotionless face as I straightened.
"My Lord." I greeted my father, not knowing what else I could possibly have said. Dad would have been far too informal, and Father seemed very out of place.

He stood and bowed to me in return. "Daughter. Take a seat here next to me, if you would." The diction he used seemed as though it was a suggestion, but his tone made it obviously a command. I did as he said, sitting to his left and looked out at the array of faces, as did my father.

He cleared his throat, standing. "You are all very aware that my daughter has decided to grace us with a formal meeting debating her current situation." I assumed this was his way of greeting everyone. "She has never known me to be her father, a secret well-kept. However, she is now the age of Sixteen, though she always assumed she was a year younger. Also pre-meditated." He paused. "I beleive that it is time she becomes one of us, and proves her loyalty to me, as well as to her blood-line."

Bellatrix spoke up to this. "How are we to know she doesn't abhor you? How do we know she can be trusted with------" Voldemort cut her off.

"I know because I am her father. Not another word from you, Bellatrix." He snapped at her. "Katja, are you ready to become one of us?"

I nodded. "Yes, My Lord." He frowned at the address.
"Call me Father, if you will. You are my daughter."

"Yes, Father."

-Later that night-

I couldn't take my eyes off of my wrist, my brand. I was one of them now, and I felt like I finally belonged. I smirked a look resembling Draco's, who stood not far from his mother. His father had recently been sent to Azkaban, as I recalled.

My gaze drifted to his face momentarily, and back to my wrist. I continued to stare until my thoughts were interrupted by a commanding voice.

"Are you disappointed, my daughter?" Voldemort asked knowingly.
"Not in the least. Overjoyed would be the more appropriate term, wouldn't it, Dre?" I smirked once more, addressing Drekia, who was, as always, wrapped around my neck.

She nodded. "Pleased indeed. I like your father, he seems... wise to say the least. Is he also a parselmouth?"

"That he is, Drekia." To the rest of them, I knew they could only hear hissing. But my father understood. Oblivious dimwits the rest of them were, not to mention a few lunatics (Bella being the worst).

My father chuckled darkly. "Drekia, perhaps you ought to meet my snake."