Please. Just bear with me here. I have lost my mind and absolutely have to do this. Blame writing too much Bellatrix LeStrange. Use your imaginations in this piece. I wish like hell I could express what this is truly like in my head, but words are so limited. Whatever the case, it's just for fun. I hope you get a chuckle or two!

Our Fair Malfoys

Act I: Meet the Malfoys

Narrator: Well, hello, flies! Welcome to the walls of Malfoy Manor. What an auspicious time you've chosen to visit. Looks as though there's some celebration afoot – at least for the master of the house. That's him – the long-haired dapper fellow, fresh from his Death Eater trial, dancing down the steps and singing…

Tempo here is quick. Lots of crashing cymbals – Streisand-ish.

LM (Track One: Not Guilty)

"Hey! They say I'm not guilty!

Hey! I say they don't know me!

And what they don't know won't hurt 'em.

At least, isn't that what you always said, mum?"

Lucius winks up at a portrait of an old witch. The portrait winks back. He tap dances into the dining hall, swinging his cane.


"Well, you know the best thing about money?

Is that it can even buy clemency!

Ha ha ha! Hee hee hee!

Hey! They say I'm not guilty!"

He leaps onto the dining table and does a step routine. Tempo slows. Enter Narcissa in loose, white chiffon.


"I've never seen a grown man act so immature.

Can't keep your guiltless feet off of my fine furniture?"

Lucius prat-falls to the floor and takes Narcissa by the hand. A Fred and Ginger moment emerges.


"Narcissa my darling, oh what shall we do?

I'm a man free of Azkaban and you're looking lovely."

He dips her dramatically and she squeals.


"Goddess help me!

You're a cad, Lucius Malfoy!"


"Oh, but could I be sweeter?"

He leads her lithely from the room.

"Come on to bed with your dearest Death Eater."

Exit Lucius and Narcissa. Enter Draco in black slacks, white Oxford, suspenders and bowler hat – a la Clockwork Orange. Style takes a turn towards heavy rock music.

DM (Track 2: Shudder to Think)

(scoffs) "Well isn't that just nice?

Wouldn't you think you met

My dear old dad

And his loving wife?


He kicks over a chair, balances on its legs and sinks into a crouch.

"Don't be fooled, kids!

He's a slimy piece of work.

A murderer, a torturer,

An arse-buggering berk!"

He looks up the stairs after them as the music slows into a ballad. Strokes his chin.

"But she's a different story…

No simpering husband's whore. See…

She's good to me, my mother.

I love her like no other.

And there are words

One shall never utter, but…

The thought of her beneath him now just

Makes me

Fucking shudder."

Music picks up again, heavier now. Draco stomps to the bottom of the stairs, looks up, tears his shirt open a la A Streetcar Named Desire. He shouts his lyrics.


Don't you dare believe

One tender touch is true.

I know that man would just as soon kill you

As fulfill you!"

He storms back to the table, summarily pushing or kicking over chairs to the pounding drums.

"But all the lies he's told

will soon be burned away,

by the fire of a secret

we keep hidden like the plague!

I can't take it now!

I say it now!

Feels better when it's


He crawls up the table, catlike, seething. The music breaks down to a seductive bass drum and tapping cymbal.

"She's good to me, my mother.

I love her like no other.

And the words one shall never utter?"

He dips his pelvis low to the table, tips his hat over one eye and chuckles low and deep in his chest.

"The thought of her

beneath me now just

makes me



Stage gradually darkens on his final words. Black.

Act II: Sunning

Morning in a bright solarium. Narcissa is humming and pruning flowers in a taut bodice and high-necked gown of white satin – bridelike. Her a cappella humming turns into a symphony of string and piano accompaniment.

NM (Track Three: Proper Sun)

"These blossoms turn to face the light of every day.

They're free to just enjoy the warmth and have their play."

She sighs. A lonely harp plays.

"How I envy every petal…

Frozen ice,

Smelted metal

Are the things that I am made of.



For the sun to come, please and take the chill off."

She startles at a sound and turns to see Draco leaning cockily in the doorway.


"You called?"

NM (nervously)

"I never called you!"

Draco walks toward her. The rock music blends with her symphonic.


"Oh! I thought that you said 'son, come please,' see."

He's very close – invading her personal space. She turns away flustered.


"I meant the proper sun, please. See, son?"

He turns her sharply toward him, takes her arms. The music intensifies. Tempo speeds up.


"Are you saying I am not a proper son, please? See, mum?"


"Don't put words into my mouth!"


"I'll put my tongue into your mouth!"


"Not here! Not now! Your father!"


"Is in his study and can't be bothered!"


"He'll be down for lunch by chimes of noon!"


"I'll make you come ten times by noon!

You want me mother.

Don't say no."


"I do! I don't!

Oh, gods!


He kisses her harshly. Music culminates to a ringing cacophany as the two crumble to the floor in a heated embrace. This side stage darkens as opposite stage brightens on Lucius Malfoy in his dreary study. He is smoking a cigar with his feet propped on a desk. Insert traditional, Disney-ish tune.

LM (Track Four: My Home)

"Back in my home,

swathed in comfort.

Back in my home,

Dressed for success!

Any fool with brains of stool

Could clearly see

Azkaban is simply no place for me!"

He rises and paces jauntily about, gesturing to fine furnishings.

"Here in my home,

I'm man of the house.

Here in my home,

I own every mouse!

And if I'm feeling rather sick,

The cure is quick –

I just summon up an elf to kick!"

He snaps his fingers and an elf appears.


"Yes, master?"

Lucius kicks it into the door, which bursts open into the hallway. Still jaunty, Lucius walks out.


"Only at home,

a pretty, doting wife.

Only at home,

She's with me every night!

Should her mouth ever be smart –

The dear little tart –

She'll learn the wisdom that my cane emparts!"

Music swirls as Lucius prances down the stairs, twirls through the enormous entry hall and shoves through the front doors. On the lawn, the sun glimmers on his hair and he marches onto the grass. Music builds to a quickstep. As Lucius marches to the beat, white peacocks gather at his feet, following him en masse.


"Look at my home!

Grand and verbose!

Look at my home!

As perfect as a rose!"

The peacocks begin to sing in chorus, heads swaying in time.


"He's pefect as a rose!"


"Even my birds appreciate

I'm consummate

And follow me like I'm their fate!

They know a secret, too,

That I'll embue…"



"Without me,

my home will rot and rue!"

Flourish of peacocks proudly displaying and Lucius with arms raised victorious.

AN: Acts III and IV to come soon...if you think you can tolerate them.