The trials of being a Malfoy
I must say I am still seething over this weekend's events. The nerve of that Parkinson girl to defy a direct order from Lucius Malfoy! I am not sure, but it seems to me that the uterus serves to suck out all reason from women. Certainly it has with Narcissa. More on that later in my post.
It was with a heavy heart that I prepared for the arrival of the Parkinsons. It is always sad to see a child go astray, but the old axiom still holds true: the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Severus and Draco arrived Saturday promptly at two o'clock, as instructed. Poor Draco had to Floo here, however, which is simply not acceptable. His eyes are very sensitive to smoke, and, despite what Mrs. Parkinson may think, looking as though you are about to cry is never attractive. The Parkinsons arrived shortly after--Mrs. Parkinson bears a striking resemblance to a startled Pekinese--and proceeded to intercede on their daughter's behalf. Mr. Parkinson proceeded to drink a beer directly from the bottle. I cannot understand how these people came to be on the Social Register but rest assured, that oversight will be rectified.
Severus, as usual, was most helpful, and when the girl did not show at the appointed hour, went to look for her. He tried Hogwarts, every salon within a 150-kilometer radius, and all of the local gentlemen's clubs, only to return alone. No Pansy. He was able, however, to find a note that the girl had left. Apparently she had scuttled off to see family in London, tail between her legs. The unfortunate resemblance to small Oriental dogs was inherited from her mother. Mrs. Parkinson took advantage of Severus's absence to lobby for her daughter's cause. She was quite convinced that nothing was wrong with Pansy. Well, I suppose if you overlook the fact that she's a liar, a stalker, and wears green nail polish, the girl is, indeed, Miss Mental Health.
With all the trouble she's caused, I was of the opinion that nothing less than exile would do. Draco, in yet another moment of brilliance, suggested Siberia, an idea I seized upon immediately. Draco is becoming such a Malfoy. I am so proud of him. Well, Mr. Parkinson proceeds to threaten my son with a saucer. Naturally I had to defend my flesh and blood. Severus assures me that the effects of the concussion will pass in a few days, and Mr. Parkinson will once again be his beer-drinking, card-playing, mobile-home-loving self. Mrs. Parkinson proceeded to attempt a faint onto the damask fainting couch, but it's very sturdily built, so it supported her weight just fine. Her wattles wobbled in a most unbecoming manner as she fell, and I'm certain I heard both Severus and Draco snickering. Both Parkisons were rapidly becoming emotional so Severus stepped in and suggested that Pansy be transferred to Beauxbatons, something Mrs. Parkinson snapped up like the last Milk-Bone in the box.
So. While both Draco and I would prefer that Pansy be sent to Siberia, France will have to do. Given her unfortunate proclivity for stalking, I'd wish that she were further away, but Draco has promised me that he will inform me of any rogue Pansy sightings.
As you can see, it isn't easy being a Malfoy, nor is it easy being Chair of the Social Register, but honestly, who will trim off the deadwood, if not me?
Narcissa was not present. I hastily made excuses for her. She is quite unlike herself. Again, I refer you to my earlier theory about uteruses. She is now convinced that I am "Fake Lucius" and has taken quite an unhealthy interest in Draco's sex life. I suppose I shall have to visit her quarters tonight and show her that I am indeed the same Lucius she's always known. Compliment her on her Brazilian bikini wax, bring her a new french maid's outfit, pour out her stash of absinthe, that sort of thing. I am nothing if not a doting husband.
I am currently working on a way to thank Severus for all of his help this weekend. In the chaos, I never got to spend even a moment alone with him. He was more useful than words can say.
I am off to the Social Registry's offices now.
It was with a heavy heart that I prepared for the arrival of the Parkinsons. It is always sad to see a child go astray, but the old axiom still holds true: the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Severus and Draco arrived Saturday promptly at two o'clock, as instructed. Poor Draco had to Floo here, however, which is simply not acceptable. His eyes are very sensitive to smoke, and, despite what Mrs. Parkinson may think, looking as though you are about to cry is never attractive. The Parkinsons arrived shortly after--Mrs. Parkinson bears a striking resemblance to a startled Pekinese--and proceeded to intercede on their daughter's behalf. Mr. Parkinson proceeded to drink a beer directly from the bottle. I cannot understand how these people came to be on the Social Register but rest assured, that oversight will be rectified.
Severus, as usual, was most helpful, and when the girl did not show at the appointed hour, went to look for her. He tried Hogwarts, every salon within a 150-kilometer radius, and all of the local gentlemen's clubs, only to return alone. No Pansy. He was able, however, to find a note that the girl had left. Apparently she had scuttled off to see family in London, tail between her legs. The unfortunate resemblance to small Oriental dogs was inherited from her mother. Mrs. Parkinson took advantage of Severus's absence to lobby for her daughter's cause. She was quite convinced that nothing was wrong with Pansy. Well, I suppose if you overlook the fact that she's a liar, a stalker, and wears green nail polish, the girl is, indeed, Miss Mental Health.
With all the trouble she's caused, I was of the opinion that nothing less than exile would do. Draco, in yet another moment of brilliance, suggested Siberia, an idea I seized upon immediately. Draco is becoming such a Malfoy. I am so proud of him. Well, Mr. Parkinson proceeds to threaten my son with a saucer. Naturally I had to defend my flesh and blood. Severus assures me that the effects of the concussion will pass in a few days, and Mr. Parkinson will once again be his beer-drinking, card-playing, mobile-home-loving self. Mrs. Parkinson proceeded to attempt a faint onto the damask fainting couch, but it's very sturdily built, so it supported her weight just fine. Her wattles wobbled in a most unbecoming manner as she fell, and I'm certain I heard both Severus and Draco snickering. Both Parkisons were rapidly becoming emotional so Severus stepped in and suggested that Pansy be transferred to Beauxbatons, something Mrs. Parkinson snapped up like the last Milk-Bone in the box.
So. While both Draco and I would prefer that Pansy be sent to Siberia, France will have to do. Given her unfortunate proclivity for stalking, I'd wish that she were further away, but Draco has promised me that he will inform me of any rogue Pansy sightings.
As you can see, it isn't easy being a Malfoy, nor is it easy being Chair of the Social Register, but honestly, who will trim off the deadwood, if not me?
Narcissa was not present. I hastily made excuses for her. She is quite unlike herself. Again, I refer you to my earlier theory about uteruses. She is now convinced that I am "Fake Lucius" and has taken quite an unhealthy interest in Draco's sex life. I suppose I shall have to visit her quarters tonight and show her that I am indeed the same Lucius she's always known. Compliment her on her Brazilian bikini wax, bring her a new french maid's outfit, pour out her stash of absinthe, that sort of thing. I am nothing if not a doting husband.
I am currently working on a way to thank Severus for all of his help this weekend. In the chaos, I never got to spend even a moment alone with him. He was more useful than words can say.
I am off to the Social Registry's offices now.