My poor, sweet, innocent boy
As if I didn't have enough to be worried about this weekend! The past three days the Manor has been agog with anticipation of the annual Gala being held this evening. Almost every hour there is a delivery of some sort - wine, champagne, Lucius's absinthe, magical creatures, Romanian crystal, ice sculptures, et cetera. Every time the doors to the entrance hall open my heart practically stops! Everything must be absolutely perfect tonight. One of the things I take immense pride in is hosting our seasonal Galas. It is a sign of good breeding and class to ensure that your home looks absolutely stunning, your guests will have a simply marvelous time, and everything runs as smoothly as possible.
You can understand, then, that the minutest interruption to these plans can be very traumatic. I must be in a relatively relaxed and confident frame of mind whilst the Gala draws nearer. I am afraid, though, that certain events which occurred have indeed disrupted my stringent party preparation routine.
The previous evening my darling husband traveled to Hogwarts to 'rescue' my darling son from a dreadfully boring weekend there. Lucius wisked Draco back to the Manor but, unwisely, did not owl ahead to inform me of our boy's delicate condition. Although healing charms had obviously been performed, I could still see where my baby's face had been marred by The Boy Who Bullies. Unable to contain myself, I wept from both the joy of seeing my son once more and in anguish for his undeserved bruising. My precious son informed me he was perfectly well and told me what had happened at the Hogwarts Hallowe'en ball. I am truly outraged and will certainly be consulting with Lucius when he decides to owl that dreadful Headmaster.
Today has been particularly difficult on me. Beside myself with worry over my son's well-being, I barely slept a wink last night. Today I have been trying to go over the final preparations for tonight's gathering but find it hard to concentrate. I did stop by Draco's room several times to check on him. Those simpering house elves keep bothering him, much to my displeasure. Very unladylike of me, I know, but I was forced to resort to kicking one down the staircase.
I think I need a martini.
You can understand, then, that the minutest interruption to these plans can be very traumatic. I must be in a relatively relaxed and confident frame of mind whilst the Gala draws nearer. I am afraid, though, that certain events which occurred have indeed disrupted my stringent party preparation routine.
The previous evening my darling husband traveled to Hogwarts to 'rescue' my darling son from a dreadfully boring weekend there. Lucius wisked Draco back to the Manor but, unwisely, did not owl ahead to inform me of our boy's delicate condition. Although healing charms had obviously been performed, I could still see where my baby's face had been marred by The Boy Who Bullies. Unable to contain myself, I wept from both the joy of seeing my son once more and in anguish for his undeserved bruising. My precious son informed me he was perfectly well and told me what had happened at the Hogwarts Hallowe'en ball. I am truly outraged and will certainly be consulting with Lucius when he decides to owl that dreadful Headmaster.
Today has been particularly difficult on me. Beside myself with worry over my son's well-being, I barely slept a wink last night. Today I have been trying to go over the final preparations for tonight's gathering but find it hard to concentrate. I did stop by Draco's room several times to check on him. Those simpering house elves keep bothering him, much to my displeasure. Very unladylike of me, I know, but I was forced to resort to kicking one down the staircase.
I think I need a martini.