I was always invisible. Always silent. Never did anyone notice me. And if they did, it was always to the ends of, ah, what a strange child; is she really the daughter of one of the most infamous wizards in our world? Is she really the daughter of the beautiful granddaughter of the veela Manoui? The sister of Draco, hero, traitor, and beloved? Not possibly the twin of Julien, the handsome one with the dark hair, and light eyes, and smile that makes women melt? Yes, I am all of those. But no one really cares.

I am Itheinna Ophelia Malfoy. The model of what a pureblood girl should have been, one hundred years ago. I speak only when spoken to, and sometimes even not then. I am obedient, and would never dream of disobeying my parents or brothers. Decisions are made for me. As is written above, I never spoke for myself. Except once. Even then, it was not a word, it was a nod. A nod that condemned the man I love, that ripped apart a lifelong friendship, nearly killed my mother, brought on to one victim the irreversible hatred of my father. And yet, my life had never been more of what I dreamed it to be. But I will explain all that later. Right now, it is important that I tell you the beginning, tell you how my story started.

I was born at the dawn of a new era. The war was over. The Dark Lord was dead. I cannot remember those early years, for I was nothing more than a small babe. But I do know that while most of the world rejoiced, my family lived in darkness. My father, a prominent Death Eater, twice escaped from Azkaban, had been sentenced to a lifetime of house arrest. I know it was only his charisma, along with my mother's pregnancy and begging, that saved him from death. Plus a bribe of nearly three million galleons to a more swayable member of the jury. Over the years, I have read of the Death Eater's war crimes, and decided maybe my father didn't deserve such an easy sentence. But in the then-new world of peace and mercy, many murders, rapists, torturers, and monsters got off with a much gentler sentence then they deserved. That being said, some still are, to this day, rotting away in prison.

But in the beginning, the Ministry of Magic was the bad one, the one that had locked my daddy up for the rest of his life.

I was born three minutes after my brother Julien, but it may as well have been three years. By the time I said my first words, he'd mastered spells that would impress a third year student at Hogwarts. He was a tiny genius, too aware of his own skill and charm from the very start. I loved and admired Julien, toddled after him wherever he'd let me follow, obeyed his every whim. In turn, I was allowed to be his servant, his toy, his playmate when all his friends had gone home, his willing guinea pig for any new spell. I though I was so lucky. He protected me, however, from anything and everything. After he broke my arm when we were two, and I had yet to say my first word, he realized I was a delicate creature, and was never again to be harmed. This was why he never allowed me the have friends or boyfriends, this was his excuse for all the duels he fought with school boys who wished to speak to me.

Ah, he was the apple of my father's eye, Julien was, but my mother loved me best. Beautiful until the day she died, Narcissa Malfoy, nèe Black, was the best mother any child could have ever dreamed of. She spoiled and pampered me, petted me and adored me. It was not surprising my first word was 'Mama'. She was always so in love with my father, and I wanted what she had. Oh, how I wanted what she had. She could be like me at times, quiet and submissive, but she possessed an inner fire I knew that I lacked.

I loved Blaise Zabini as long as I could remember. With his height, dark eyes, strong hands, deep laugh, silky black hair and moustache, who wouldn't? I didn't care that he was seventeen years my senior, that he was a notorious womanizer with dreadful reputation. While I was occasionally ashamed of my own family, it didn't matter to me that members of his family had been Death Eaters. He was Draco's closest, most trusted, oldest friend, and I would have given my life for him to just look at me as more than Draco's Little Sister.

However, if I was perfectly honest, I had just as much a chance with him as any other boy; perhaps more, since I was allowed to speak to this one. Because of Julien, I was never permitted to date (except on one occasion, and that turned out to be a painfully awkward experience, never to be repeated). Any boy who wished to take me on a date would, of course, have to ask through Julien. His first question to them was always the same. 'Would you marry her?' If that didn't scare them off, the second was, 'Do you love her? Would you die for her?'

Now. Perhaps he meant well. As a matter of fact, I'm sure he did. Who would ever mean ill towards the poor, simple Thea without a thought in her pretty little head?

But back to Blaise. There were only two men in my memory I was ever left alone with, out side my family, of course. Blaise was one of them. He was so trusted and liked by my family, back then at least, and I just sat there, silent as a stone. This unnerved him at first, I know, but he got over it fairly quickly. And then, he would talk. Oh, I could have stayed there for hours, letting his deep, low voice wash over me. Telling me about his life. His job. His family. His women, and his past. I was a little angel, he'd tell me, to sit there and listen. He sometimes brought me small presents, which I treasure to this day. He could pour himself into me, and I wouldn't breathe a word to a soul. I loved every moment I spent in his presence, and later would spend hours turning each sweet second over in my head, again and again. I dreamt of marrying him, of having his beautiful children, though I was just a child myself.

Of course, all this was top secret. Top secret. I didn't even tell my mother, who I spoke to more than anyone else. Julien would murder me if he knew I harbored such notions. He had no idea I even knew what love, or romance, at least, was. I can thank my own thieving fingers for that, sneaking into my parent's room to snatch my mother's silly novels about ridiculous girls who were always rescued from some predicament or another by a handsome prince or reformed rogue. Oh, how I wished to be that girl, held captive for her beauty, how I want Blaise to come and save me. I wished to be Helen of Troy; someone beautiful, someone desired. But alas, I decided. Perhaps it was never to be.

In appearance, I not am quite as remarkable as the rest of my family. Certainly not my mother, whom I once overheard being told by my father that she had the body of a goddess. My father and brothers could all be called handsome, by anyone's standards. Julien was, literally, a mirror image of my father when he was younger, except for his hair. Perhaps one might say that Julien is the Malfoy that doesn't quite fit, for he is the first, ever, I believe, to not be blonde. Oh, but what a lie that would be. He is a Malfoy, born and bred, through and through. A Malfoy in name, actions, thoughts, and deeds. I can only claim the first. And now, not even. People used to say Draco looked like my father, but then they saw Julien. True, Draco is tall, pale and blonde, with the trademark grey eyes that all of us Malfoy children share. But he is not, and never will be, as tall as my father, nor is his hair the same ashen white-blonde; it has turned golden, like my mother's. His eyes, though gray, are not the icy flint chips of Julien and my father's. They are my mother's eyes, miscolored. My eyes, exactly. He does not have the strength, physical or mental, of my father and Julien.

I am dull. Long white hair that won't quite shine, boring, unintelligent eyes that repel attention, and are always on the floor. Rather scrawny, without the slightest hint of curves. Sometimes, I would look in the mirror and wonder how such a dreary, lackluster child could have been born into such a whirlwind family, prominent in the age, as well as, one day, history. I suppose someday, I shall be a footnote, at the bottom of the page: 'It is also rumored that Julien Malfoy had a twin sister, though no further evidence has been found.' Yes, that will be me.

Julien is not my twin. Well, I suppose we share the same birthday, but that is all. We look not at all alike, act nothing the same. I would not even consider us the same age. He is an adult, I am a child. He ruled my life until I was fifteen. Oh, that year, the year I, me, little Thea, changed everything.

(A/N: I've never done a fic with an OC as the main character. You guys need to help me out. I really need feedback. This won't be updated as often as What Seems like Forever, and will have MAJOR spoilers for that. And I guess I lied in my profile about the order I'd write. Sorry. And this story will switch from Itheinna first-person, to third person. I'll mark the change by ".oO () Oo." And again, I'd really love it if you all could help me? Thanks.)