Disclaimer – None of this is mine. Except for Victrilla.

I've been thinking about this story for a while and its actually been why all my other stories have been so delayed in coming out lately. I felt it was the only way to ease my mind. Anyway, this story is about Victrilla Black, daughter of Voldemort and Bellatrix. I know that this has been done before but it has an original twist. I swear.

The first few chapters will just touch upon some important things that happen in Victrilla's first few years at Hogwarts before getting into the real story which begins during Trilla's 6th year (Harry's 5th). But important things are revealed in these chapters too so don't just skip over them.

So read and enjoy. Questions, comments, concerns, just send me a review.


My Saving Grace

Chapter 1:

His Daughter

Victrilla wrapped her tiny hands around the bars of her crib and pulled herself into a kneeling position. The nursery was dark, as it always was, despite the child's feeble protests. Her infant cousin lay asleep in a basinet across the room blissfully unaware of the shadows that the tree outside cast on the opposite wall. Yet it was not the frightening shadows Victrilla was looking at. It was the door. There were things more horrible than shadows and ghosts that came in the middle of the night.

Two silhouettes stood in the doorway for a moment before entering the room. Victrilla lay down again, pretending to be asleep. But the motion did not go unnoticed by her mother.

"Trilla, darling, why are you still awake?" What little light had come in through the open doorway was blocked as Victrilla was picked up by her mother. Black hair tickled Trilla's nose and she let out a small sneeze. "We're you looking out for your cousin?"

"Bella, shhh. You'll wake Draco." Aunt Narcissa looked lovingly down on her child. A third person strode into the room and motioned for Narcissa to leave and she did so.

"May I hold my child, Bella?" Victrilla picked her head up off of her mothers shoulder and looked into the cold, red eyes of the man that was her father.

"Why of course, my Lord." Bellatrix handed Victrilla to her father. Trilla tensed her muscles as she looked into the face that had no nose and eyes slit like those of a snake - the face that terrified her, yet was all too familiar.

"Down now?" Trilla had learned from a very young age that crying would not get her anything she wanted from her father. Only her mother seemed to have a little of that nurturing instinct which Aunt Narcissa showed Draco. Voldemort turned up the corners of his mouth into what was supposed to be something like a smile.

"So young and she already knows exactly what she wants." Voldemort placed Trilla back into her crib. The couple turned and walked towards the door. "She will be powerful Bella, I can sense it." The door closed behind them casting the room once more into the darkness that Trilla so hated. A tear leaked out onto her pajamas as she looked longingly at the candle that had been extinguished long ago.

Suddenly it burst into flame.

Not sure of what happened, but thoroughly pleased with herself, Trilla pulled her small blanket around her and fell into a deep sleep.


(10 years later)

"I want to go too!" A little boy with blonde hair stamped his foot for emphasis.

"Now, Draco, we already talked about this. You will go to Hogwarts next year."

"Bu..."

"No buts." Aunt Narcissa cut him off. She looked back to Victrilla and handed her a small key. "Victrilla, this is a copy of the key to your mothers vault at Gringott's. I felt you should have it, just in case." Trilla nodded. Uncle Lucius never would have done that for her. Perhaps Aunt Narcissa cared for her a little more than she let on. "Now remember your, last name…"

"Is Black. I know." Trilla finished the sentence for her.

"Right. Your mother's last name won't make you the most poplar person outside of the Slytherin Common Room." Narcissa bent down and kissed the top on Trilla's head. Trilla turned to Draco to say good bye, though it was good riddance Trill was thinking. But Draco merely glared at her, a look which Trilla returned, all thoughts of a good bye gone, before walking away without a second look to go find a cabin on the Hogwarts Express.

Victrilla felt relief like she never felt before knowing that she wouldn't be living with the Malfoy's anymore. Well, not until Christmas at least. But even that four months would feel like heaven. She knew it already.

"Hey, can we sit here?"

Trilla looked away from the platform where mothers and fathers stood waving goodbye to their children and saw two boys standing in the doorway of the compartment she had entered only a minute or so before. Both had identical red hair and freckles.

"Sure," Trilla said, watching them.

"I'm George Weasley by the way."

"And I'm Fred."

"We're twins."

"Obviously. I'm Victrilla Black, by the way." Fred and George looked at each other.

"You know, Fred, I think I like this one."

"Me too, George." He nodded in agreement. The twins hoisted their luggage onto the compartment overhead. George took the seat next to Trilla and Fred the one across from her.

"So, you're a first year." Fred said. It was more of a statement than a question.

"How did you know?"

"We're second years. Never saw you before. Which house do you want to be in?"

"Well, my family wants me to be in Slytherin. But I hate them. I don't want to be anything like that." Trilla looked out the window again, hoping that they would just leave her alone. Fred and George were seemed very nice, but Trilla had the feeling that she would need to explain her whole life story before they would stop questioning her.

"Yeah well Slytherin's have that effect on people. What house do you want to be in?" George asked. She turned to him, surprised. People usually thought that Victrilla would automatically want to be a Slytherin and grow up in her parent's footsteps and disregarded her when she told them otherwise. But these young wizards didn't know her past. In fact, they barely knew her at all. Yet they cared. They cared about what she had to say, and what her opinion was. She could see that in George's eyes. That was something she had not seen in a long time.

"Actually," Trilla said hesitantly, "I always liked Dumbledore. I kind of want to be in Gryffindor."

The grins on Fred and George's faces told her that she had made the right decision.

"Brilliant! We're in Gryffindor, too."

"I don't know if I'll get in though…" Trilla looked at her feet.

"Don't worry. The hat always puts you where you want to go if you ask it." Trilla looked up at George hopefully, not quite daring to believe what he told her was true. "At least that's what Charlie told me."

The castle was a little chilly, but in another sense, it was warm and inviting. The shadows that danced on the walls were not the kinds that were at the Malfoy Manner which so painfully reminded Trilla of her childhood. The Great Hall was magnificent. The ceiling was enchanted to look like the night sky. Trilla thought that it was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen.

"When I call your name," the severe looking witch in front of the first years said, "you will step forward and sit on the stool. I will then place the Sorting Hat on your head and you will go and sit with your respective houses." She looked down at a list in her hand and Trilla realized with a jolt that the names were probably in alphabetical order. That would mean…

"Black, Victrilla."

Victrilla walked forward and McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on her head.

"Hmmm, interesting. Very interesting. Your smart, might do well in Ravenclaw. But you have the blood of Salazar Slytherin in you. Gryffindor would also suit you. Where to put you…"

"Not Slytherin. Please not Slytherin. I don't want to be like my father." Trilla prayed that the hat would hear her thoughts and acknowledge them.

"Well, if that is what you wish. GRYFFINDOR!"

The great hall clapped as Trilla made her way to Fred and George.

"Brilliant!" Fred said clapping her on the back.

"Knew you'd do it," George said.

"I wasn't so sure." Trilla turned back to the Sorting Ceremony, not really paying attention to what was going on. She was thinking about what the hat had told her. She was a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. Yet she was put into Gryffindor anyway.