JKR owns it all.
This story contains scenes which might disturb some readers; they allude to non-consent sex, men's rape, female rape and other kinds of abuse, although not particularly graphic. This is a repeating theme, some of the same old, with different twists and turns.
He falls in love with our witch at first sight, not that kind of love, he makes her his daughter in his heart. And what a Malfoy wants a Malfoy gets.
He is the writer, and sometimes he writes present tense, i.e. the moment he is actually writing, but mostly writes events that have already happened. To me, he is using his memoirs as a confidant.
Hopefully you will see his evolution and growth as an individual. Be prepared to cry, at least I did. Also keep your mind open. As in my other stories there will be some mysteries, but you will not have to wait long. It is only two chapters, long ones but two. And lastly, I only do good endings. Let me know if you like this kind of story, I am interested to hear your opinions.
Savva, yes, thanks for telling me this is a worthwhile piece. I hope the readers share your views. Hugs to all the wonderful readers I have found along the way. I dedicate this to you. Without you would still be in a folder waiting to see the light.
A/N ●~LM~● Indicates a new entry by Lucius.
Malfoy Annals, Property of the Malfoy Estate, by Lucius Malfoy, 1954 –
My memoirs -Volume CCXXXIV
My girl-My daughter: 1991 to Present
In 1991 when we first saw her, she was but a little girl. We both agreed that she was a pixie, and a very chatty one at that. She was just growing into her body; her hair was a wild, curly mass, too big for her head, and so were her teeth. Her long, thin legs reminded me of a foal's legs trying her first steps. She had the most charming freckles, a shower of stars sprinkled along a band below her eyes and the bridge of her upturned button nose; the small heart shaped face was perfect, and so were the pouty lips; her smooth skin, the color of ivory porcelain with a touch of gold, and a rose tint slightly tinged her fine cheeks.
Her intelligent, chocolate-color eyes were the one feature that made her special and forever caught you in their light. Her voice was musical, educated, soft, assured, yet with a hint of shyness. I observed Draco the very first moment he heard her voice, and saw the initial spark of recognition, a visible flash of lightning, which originated deep inside his young eyes. Thus I kept observing him, and by the end of the day I was certain. Yes, I had been right about his reaction, as my great-grandfather Serpens often said, it takes one to know one.
"Who is that girl?" I asked Narcissa, the excitement palpable in my voice.
"I wondered the same; I don't recognize her family, but look at her beautiful cloak and also her parents', all are a fine Austrian make. Darling, could they perhaps have come from the continent?"
She looked at me with longing, and my heart ached for her, for both of us. I knew that look, a girl, she wanted a daughter, the one she could not have. Draco's birth had taken those chances away; well, her devil-sister destroy her chances, to be more precise. That was past because now we had hope, and we could wait. I nodded my head in agreement, yes, she could be the one.
"She reminds me of Bella, but her hair color is lighter. We were all so awkward at that age, I remember when you saw me, and you told your parents you would never marry a skinny baby, verbatim, 'Father, she is not a witch;she is but a skinny baby, all legs and arms, sticks and bones. You better find a way to break that contract.' Yes, those were your very words, and, behind your back, I laughed at your changing voice," her voice was full of mirth, and I had to smirk. She can be so irritating, Malfoy men don't change voices, that is too common. I patted her hand on my arm, such a pretty, slender hand.
"Ah, right, but later during the Valentine's ball, four years later, I still can conjure that night, my jaw dropped when I first saw you. I stood with my date to watch the couples entering the hall, and then I saw you, all dressed up and with Rodolphus, ehem, indeed! I knew, I shouldn't have, but nevertheless I pouted."
I had to stop talking to take a deep breath, it was necessary to control my rising temper, she had the nastiest little smirk, "As I was about to say, it made my blood boil," darn, she knew that after all these years, it still made me upset, and she smiled, the wench. I continued, a bit affronted, holding my chin up, I have my dignity to uphold after all.
"And, dear Cissy, you can never forget what you did next, your naughtiness. You should know that I can still see it as if was today, Dolphus was distracted when you stuck your tongue out to me, while your eyes were on mine." I smiled at the memory, she was telling me that she was beautiful and no longer a skinny baby; and, that she had come to the ball with someone else.
My voice trailed remembering. I could still feel the anger felt at the sight of the young swan, could still see her hanging from the arm of the bird chaser. I still can see her defiance, but at the moment she made fun of me, I realized what she was doing. That was all it took, I was unable to stop my joyous laughter, and our story begun.
Today, once we got home, she paid for her teasing this afternoon. I love a not so gentle hand. I can just close my eyes and picture her nude body extended across my naked lap, her firm porcelain halves sticking up in in the air; they are now tanned with a delightful blush, getting darker as she is properly chastised; gods, how I love to hear her screams for release. Hmm, something tells that is is probably not a good lesson; she likes to be taught a little too much. Oh well, I like to administer it just as much. Bad girl, naughty witch, how much I love my Narcissa.
I hope this is not too risqué to be read by future generations; it is not, I assure future readers, we are talking about playing games, just games. The games that properly spice the marital bed and—. I am digressing, it is, however, rather easy when you are married to a goddess,and your mind is always full of her. Now, let me finish recording this afternoon.
Narcissa, my love, she is indeed a beautiful swan. Thus, she recognized the young swan in front of her, and the same thought crossed our minds: Draco's future. We were sure, it was crystal clear that she was the one.
We followed the trio at a discrete distance, trying to find out more about them. Draco fussed about wanting to go to shopping for sweets, but we wanted to find out their name. It was necessary since Narcissa's intuition had already told her that the girl was our future, and the next Malfoy generation will grow inside her womb.
While we were discreetly following them, Cissy approached me and moved her mouth close to my ear; she was going to whisper something not for the public ear. She leaned closely, hid her face behind her long hair, and cupped her hand around her mouth. Ah, my lance recognized her stealth approach and stood up on attention.
She proceeded to caress my ear with the tip of her tongue, her warm, moist tip, traced little swirls along the sensitive ear lobe, I stopped breathing, and I went from hard to granite, to hardened steel, ready to strike. This was followed by a tiny nip, and a sexy whisper, "I have seen three little Malfoys, and a pregnant young mother with a dashing older Draco."
She giggled, a school girl's laughter, "However the images are only possible if they, you know what. The what, hmm, I will give it to you later; it is already rather
moist and warm, just try very 'hard' to be a good boy."
Her naughty actions, her laughter, and joy went straight into my loins, and I ached for her badly. A moan escaped my throat, and I had to feign a coughing fit. I could have had her right there, minx. I nearly tripped, so dizzy I was inside a haze of desire.
She looks so proper, a real Pureblood lady, but inside, she is hot lava and knows the secrets to maintain my continual state of arousal.
Preposterous, how can I keep forgetting. I need to remember—others might read this. Well, it is all true,,hence let them be envious. I have digressed once again, and be informed, this happens once in a while.
The girl was a bit bossy; I could tell by the way she dealt with her parents. I chuckled, she reminded me of myself. In Flourish and Blotts, she wanted to buy the entire stock, and her parents were benevolently smiling at the petite witch. The sprite was going around the books like a bee in a flower field. I had visions of a Lucius at her age, not wanting to leave the shop until my parents had spent a bride's price on my 'few' selections. Yes, I did throw a few fits, I am not sorry to say it since I got what I wanted.
We would be the best of friends, my girl and I, and I cannot wait; by Merlin, it is going to be a long wait. I am already making plans to expand the library for our spending excesses.
We heard the Girl's parents talking, and as usual, Cissa was right, they must be educated; and their comportment speaks of being members of the upper echelons; it is something which only years of breeding can accomplish. Moreover, the ring on the father's hand was a heavy old seal made of the finest gold; those rings are not bought, they are passed on families throughout the generations. It was a signet ring, upon this observation, we both wondered again if they might reside in the country?
I haven't written in a while. I am not too proud of myself. Draco's first year has ended, it is June 1992, and we had to deny Our Girl once more. During the first days of this month, we were planning a rather large celebration for his birthday. Don't judge me hard, we were both sad, and it was with a heavy heart that I had to tell Draco, "Son, Draco, for the last time you cannot invite that girl to your party, even if her father gave us that card at the station; they are Mudbloods, and we just don't associate with their kind."
"Lucius, could you not say that M-word in my presence, especially when it relates to That-Girl." Her voice was icy and cold, and it tore my insides.
Cissa is unable to even look at me directly, and I'm afraid to maybe see hate on her eyes. It has been weeks, and she still has not let me touch her. I cannot force her, but I miss her so much. I don't make the rules, and I wish she would understand. It just as it is, Our-Girl's blood is different from ours.
My fingers itch to touch her whenever I see her. Cissy has sent me to sleep in my room; a room that has not been slept in since the day before we married. Gods I miss her. The elves have caught my bad temper, and everyone hides whenever they see me. The one who catches the brunt is that inbreed Dobby; he is a menace because I taught him to read. He better stay away from me with his insolence.
Draco came in to the library, he had been sulking for weeks, "But father, you were the one who kept telling me that she would be a beauty,and how wonderful it would be if I were to be her friend. Inviting her to our home is the only way she can be a friend; Potty and the Weaselby don't even let me get close to her at Hogwarts. She hates me because you are a Death Eater, and all we do is to insult each other and fight," and for once in a long while, his eyes were full of tears. "I want to be normal, and I cannot be; you are responsible, and it is your entire fault." I stood up and tried to hug him, and he pushed me away and ran.
Draco is a sentimental Black, and last night, she saw me broken after Draco was gone. It was then when Cissy forgave me and gave me the solace I so badly needed. We touched, kissed, and made love with abandonment all night long. Gods, I do love my wife and my son and long to embrace Our-Girl.
I am very afraid, the dark is approaching, and there is no where to hide. What am I doing? What will happen to us.
It has been a while, nothing much good to report. During the time passed after my last entry, we have had opportunities to glance at her; she is growing up and transforming into the promised swan. We have the chance to see her a couple times, whenever the parents took or retrieved her at the Station.
In just a couple of years she has grown in beauty, and I haven't failed to notice the randy young wizards beginning to lust after her. More than once, I've wanted to do bodily harm, and more than once, Cissa slapped my hand when my fingers had already opened the snake cane.
It is hard to control one's instincts, and mine tell me to keep other boys away. She will be a Malfoy and should be treated as one, all that riffraff need to keep their hands and roving eyes away from her body. An admiring look is one thing, but leering with vulgar, raw lust is improper, and punishment should be dispensed swiftly. Poor Draco, it must be very difficult for him.
We've also noticed their driver dropping the family far from the station. Our initial assessments were right, they at least wealthy, and I can see these things; noblesse obliges. Of course, we have manners, and have politely acknowledged their presences with a head bow, and they do what was expected. We've all known where we stand. Times are dangerous, and barebones politeness is the only avenue. People, or those bred like us, understand the protocols for troubled times.
Good blood is good blood, you cannot deny it. At least, they are the best kind of Mudbloods, and her superior intelligence could be explained that way, good breeding cannot be denied. I could bet a pretty silver Sickle that they are descendants of magical people. When the war is over, I will investigate, because it is too dangerous right at the present time.
We made sure to listen to the driver addressing him, and my eyebrow shot up, as did Narcissa's, when we heard him, "Lord Granger, where should I wait for you and the Lady? Do you need assistance with Miss Granger's luggage?" his voice was respectful.
So we were right, they are from the peerage. We are never wrong. But why was the fact unknown? Was it because the Weasley and not wishing to make them feel less? A real lady is above everyone and can, when required, be at everyone's level; thus she is too well bred and does not want her friends to feel uncomfortable. I think the Weasley should know, and maybe they shall stay away from her, once they know they are out their league.
I made a mental note to find more about them. Of course, there is always the problem of the demented Dark Lord. We must figure out how to get out of this dangerous imbroglio in one piece. I was already asked to put Tom's diary on her bag, not if my life depended on it. I did something despicable, but better someone else than Our-Girl.
Something must be done, but how to be prepared for the coming bad times, what can be done to protect Our-Girl? A knowledgeable, well-advised soldier with careful laid-out plans stands a fair chance to survive a war. Thus, we must plan ahead. Malfoy is not only a name; we are one of the richest families in the Wizarding world, and surely it has not been for lack of planning.
We finally got it; we will pay someone to watch over her. One of those young wizards out of work, I will ask around. I do not want any other young bloods thinking they have a chance to even accompany her to Hogsmeade, much less to dare to touch her. She has Malfoy written all over her, and only Draco has the right to touch her, she is Our-Girl.
I have just sent a polite note over the Weasleys, to Molly. I will record a portion of what I wrote in the short scroll I've sent her. It can only be read by her and should burn after two minutes.
"Dear Molly, I hope this missive finds you and your Blood-Traitor family reasonably well. I have a request on behalf of a very dear person. This scroll is charmed, if you read it, you will not be able to disclose the...
You must understand that I am truly generous, hence if your younger son keeps his filthy freckled paws away from Miss Granger, for that matter any part of his appendages to include his lips, the gold is yours to keep. Next time you are near Gringotts, stop by, and you will find a vault in your name. It contains 10,000 galleons for her yearly expenses while at your home, plus 10,000 yearly for your family's clothes and treats, and 5,000 more for your troubles and your good will. You will treat her well and according to her station, I will find out what y ou do, I have eyes and ears inside your walls…please don't waste your time in looking for them.
Buy some clothes for your son if he is to be around her…Now, just imagine the marriage settlement of 15,000 Galleons fi each of your sprouted carrots will receive, and you can decide what is best. L'roy will wait five minutes for your response, don't feed him cheap junk, he has a sensitive stomach; no long answers: yes I will, or, no I will not, will suffice;
your acquaintance, Lucius S. Malfoy.
I am always polite and generous.
A short answer, carried by L'roy, my owl, arrived a short time later. The scroll was written in a surprisingly elegant penmanship, on a a sheet with a gold Prewett's seal affixed on top of the exquisitely lined vellum, "YES, YOU ARE A MONSTER- MW."
We are just starting the challenging years, Draco is always complaining about Hermione.
"She said, she did, she pushed me, she smacked me…she, she, she..."Narcissa always gives me that look and winks her eye. The one that says, ' I know it.' But the words she always says thereafter break my heart, "He cannot love her now because she is a Muggle born."
During those days, how I wish that I could be young again and not have taken the Dark Mark. Her father demanded it. Oh Merlin, I have forever loved my Cissa and did not have a choice. Thanks to Salazar for she has one hot little cave my lance loves to— And, by the way, I need to write in code, who knows who might read my memories…
…I am back, sorry, I had to go and take care of some urgent business with Cissa, ehem, where was I at? I just don't remember, my deepest apologies if you are reading, I totally forgot what I was going to say; best if I write later, I still need my spouse.
Descend into the Darkness-
It is the children's 4th year at Hogwarts, and Draco has come home pouting and full of the-nastiness, the kind that only adolescents are able to dispense and share. On second thought, the only thing they share is a lot of grief with the exemplary parent, which in this case, would be me.
The Arithmency formula for our adolescent is rather simple:
Variables N= Narcissa, L =Lucius, and D=Draco
For L & N = D's parents
If, (L, N) refuse to join D in his land of doom and gloom;
teenager D will make sure that his pains are fully shared by the guilty parties L&N , forcing to share doom and gloom
much of the same.
Sad but true, listening to his words, "You are a bad father and have never cared about me; not once you had time for me. As a matter of fact, the only one you care about is yourself," left a taste of bile in my mouth.
The only way to get rid of the bitter taste in my mouth, the taste of being called a bad father, was by sinking my tongue in the best honey found in the land. It is still the best, and you can only get it between the thighs of my queen. Damn, I hope nobody ever reads this. I will erase it, not. If I am dead, and you are reading these memoirs; know that I decided you should know what you have missed. Besides, I want to re-read it whenever the mood strikes; moreover, it is my time and my scroll and ink.
Today, Mr. I-am-miserable, finally came down from his high broom. He told us how beautiful Hermione had looked at the Yule Ball. He complained of the unfairness that aPureblood was allowed to court her. Not just any pureblood, but the Viktor Krum, the one and only rising start of the Quidditch world. And was sure to let us know how much he hated us for denying him the one for him. No surprise there, we already knew her significance, poor our child. He knows that we know, and this makes it all together feel worse; however, I will be damned if I acknowledge it to the little Black snake, he would bite me even worse.
And the whining began, he was a tragic actor; we heard of his unique teenage love, how he would always love her, and he was a Romeo to her Juliet…blah, blah… Don't think I am insensitive I heard his pain. Therefore, I made a mental note to send money to a professional Hex-Master who lives in Bulgaria. I must make sure that Krum breaks all his bones before the next season. That will teach him a lesson for making Draco cry. And I already feel better for being a sensitive parent.
To be young, Narcissa and I gaily laughed at his ramblings in the privacy of our bedroom. But it was not a real happy laugh; we both knew that the truth was behind his words. Hermione was turning into the swan we had foreseen, and she was not only exquisite, but also a very powerful witch. Maybe, maybe, one could negotiate a contract for later on. But not in these times, it would be the end of Lord Granger's family sinceee spies are everywhere.
We must find out a way to get him my little curly head witch, just for him. Cissa and I have talked; Our-Girl is Draco's. We wish that we could tell him; however, now this is not a good time. It is a fact, sooner or later he must be told, we think we still have a couple more years or so.
All we can do is to protect his witch. I have generously paid professional marriage insurers, to ensure that she will only love and marry him; they have undisclosed charms to keep others away. And all those who love her, well, let them have blue balls, not that I particularly care.
"Malfoy witches should be desirable to all,and should be put in a pedestal. However, we are the only ones who get to use their spears/lances in them; we, the Malfoy men." That is exactly what my father told me, and I have in good faith, that Lord Granger feels the same about his wife, a man after my own heart. Men of his family killed, murdered, went to war to protect and win their ladies. He is guilty of some of it himself. I have reliable sources.