a series of character developments
[I couldn't resist posting this, despite the horrible un-canon of it all. The madness may even continue. -- Edited to add content and also make Yaxley sound a little less like Rorschach in his angry-time.]
A Vague and Inconsistent Chronicle of the Life of One A.L. Yaxley
1980 - August;
Yaxley. Lysander Aldous. Twenty-six. Department of Magical Law Enforcement, British Ministry for Magic.
I am not self-involved enough to keep a diary. Nor am I pompous enough to think that there will ever come a time at which anyone would ever wish to read my memoirs (and as such I do not write them). However, it has been suggested to me that, on occasion, putting certain thoughts down in words can be helpful in the self-analysis and decision-making processes. Normally, I would ask Lucius' advice, but he has lately been very busy being married. Which to me sounds like he and Narcissa have been occupying themselves primarily with scampering about their new home, looking for new and different places in which to have sex. This differs little from their courtship, except that being married, they have a slew of new rooms and furniture in which or on which to shag.
That said, I do not think I shall see Lucius until Wednesday, when he will have to show up for work as there is to be an all-staff meeting. At which we are supposed to be discussing Ministry-approved security measures now the Dark Lord is at large. If only they knew how “at large” he really is. Ought to be a laugh, anyway.
But I digress. In the absence of a friend-as I do not think it would be especially wise to discuss the matter at great length with any of my other cohorts, considering the nature of my dilemma-I find myself in need of some other objective method of collecting my thoughts. Hence, this.
I have been, until this point, doing a very poor job of being succinct. So, getting to the point:
I met a girl.
This, in itself, is not the issue. I have met and know (mostly carnally) a fair number of women. Auriga Sinistra is not remarkable, among them; she is relatively smarter than many of the women I have been with and is certainly not hard on the eyes. And her mother is some kind of minor celebrity-her name is always mentioned by critics as a person who might make a better Minister than the current presider.
I have not slept with her.
Also, not the problem.
The problem is that I rather like her. Well enough, perhaps, to turn in my bachelorhood for the yoke of a 'serious relationship.' (I did suspect I would have to grow up and do it, some time.) She is not as intolerably idiotic as most women, though she does seem a bit the nervous type. Although that can be remedied.
The greater problem, however, is that she is not pureblood. The mother comes from good stock: Canadian, but that can be forgiven, as the Ridgebits were Scottish, originally. But no one seems to know about the father. She's said that he teaches Astronomy, but I have since learned that it is not an interest exclusive to wizards. As such, I and my network of informants (in the form of several chatty and well-connected debutantes) can only conclude that the fellow must be Mudblood or Muggle.
To have a brief affair with a halfblood (or less) would be of little note, among my peers, but to consider seeing one exclusively-particularly to the neglect of pureblood prospects-might cause my master displeasure. And I, of course, have little desire to excite his wrath.
On the other hand, it has been confided to me (as it was confided to Lucius) that there are certain among us whose blood is not entirely pure. And though the affront has, at least in one case, been reconciled by the removal of the offending family member, it nevertheless gives me hope.
I suppose, in any case, it cannot hurt to take her out once or twice.
---
1980 - December;
Further pause on the matter has led me to the resumption of this writing. (I have, at a most coincidentally appropriate time, found this sheet of parchment folded inside an old novel.)
I have been seeing Auriga Sinistra for five months, as of Christmas. To say that I am quite fond of her would be an understatement. I may be in love with her. She is bright and attentive and has lost much of her uneasy manner, since we have been together. Not to mention (which, in polite company, I have not) that she is incredibly, ah, enthusiastic in bed. I have honestly never met a woman quite so eager to please me-the double-entendre applies.
My friends, for the most part, seem to like her. And she has come to fit in well enough among them.
The matter to which I am leading up to is this: the longer I date her, the more inclined I am to think that I should like to marry her. She would, I think, make a pretty and pleasant wife.
Having not divulged the issue of her bloodline to anyone that was not already aware, I would not imagine this to be an issue. She has already had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting my parents and sister, who all could think of no worse criticism beside that it was not they who introduced us, and I have recently become acquainted with her mother. (Who, I have subsequently learned, could not be more thrilled or skeptical that I chose her daughter to be my companion; she does not, apparently, have a very high opinion of Auriga, but prefers her elder daughter.) And we have been together a sufficient amount of time to determine that she is not solely after my family's money-else she would have been sure to get pregnant as soon as possible to secure my commitment.
Were I to propose the matter to my parents, or her mother, I do not think anyone would be opposed to it.
That said, I am nevertheless faced with a formidable obstacle: Narcissa.
My cousin's wife is regrettably the same age as my potential one. Meaning they attended Hogwarts together. It is no secret that dear Narcissa was a bit of a bully to the other girls in her year, undoubtedly picking up the torch from her lunatic sister, but she had been particularly nasty to Auriga. As much as one might expect, as a skinny, bespectacled teenage girl, I suppose. The nastiness extending to the point of digging up and spreading around incredible tales about the Sinistra family, the most significant of these being that the father was a Muggle garbage man. Auriga doesn't deny it; she says that he was a garbage man, when she was young, but has since become a teacher.
The point being that Narcissa possesses knowledge which could easily be used to destroy my current matrimonial plans. And also that she has threatened to use said knowledge, should I exhibit any inclination to marry Auriga Sinistra.
I have little doubt that, left to her own devices, Narcissa would carry this out. Anything that she reported to her in-laws (my mother's brother and his wife) would in a very short span of time travel to my parents' ears. And no matter how much they like or do not like Auriga, there is nothing that would, to them, reconcile her for being the daughter of a man with no magical abilities whatsoever.
I do have faith that Lucius, being possibly the best friend a bloke could hope to have-and thus, understanding of the requirements for my prolonged happiness-will step in and put a stop to the shrew's scheming. (Still, I sometimes cannot help but worry.)
But with any luck, Auriga and I will be engaged before the new year.
---
1987 - March;
I have found this amongst a stack of books brought from my old flat, that have been sitting in a box in my study for two years, now. Having reread it, I cannot help but be torn between amusement and revulsion at my own naïve idiocy.
To clarify, the Dark Lord is dead. Vanquished while trying to kill the Potter child he believed was prophesied to be his downfall. A bit ironic, really. As a result, the child has become a national icon.
In addition, perhaps equally importantly, I seem to have married an insufferable whore.
That is, shortly after my last writing, I split up with the Sinistra girl when my parents threatened to disown me, if I continued to see her. (Apparently, I was wrong in trusting Lucius to prevent Narcissa from meddling. He insists, to this day, that his inaction was for my own good. I remain skeptical.) I was then immediately engaged to a Miss Cordelia Greengrass, with whom my sister Calpurnia attended school. I was less-than-thrilled with the matter, but it was not the girl's fault. As such, I did my best to treat her as a man should regard his wife. If I could not, in time, bring myself to love her, then I would at least carry out her wishes as reason and ability allowed.
Her wishes, at the time, included a good deal of sex. Every single night before bed. Sometimes, afternoons. To be frank, her appetite was insatiable.
Being at the time a fledgling Ministry employee, it often fell to me to resolve minor crises, while my superiors left the office in time to make their seven o'clock dinner reservations. As a result, I arrived home late one night. Cora was already asleep.
We have not had sex since. At least, one of us has not. (Guess which one.)
I have subsequently discovered that Cora has had affairs with no fewer than twelve of my coworkers. In my department. I am sure the number outside my department is much higher. Discounting, of course, non-Ministry employees, women, and possibly animals. (I would at this point put nothing past her.)
For the past several weeks, I have been considering moving out of our home. I have already vacated the bedroom we used to share, in favor of my childhood room. Were I any other wizard, I might just divorce her. Sadly, ironically I suppose, it is taboo among our class. But I honestly cannot stand to be around her, any longer.
I can only hope that a flat in London (under the guise of wanting to have a bed closer to my place of employment) and my pretty new assistant will be enough to assuage all of the aggravation the harpy has caused me, these last five years.
---
1995 - June;
Rediscovered among a box of photographs. (Surprisingly haven't burnt it yet. Must be getting sentimental.) Only half as idiotic as previously thought.
Meaning: the Dark Lord has returned. Apparently thanks to Pettigrew. Luckily, none were punished for failing to search for Him. Privately suspect that He would be out a dozen or so followers, if He did. Doubt He can afford that, right now.
On the other hand: Still married. Seeing more and more coworkers laughing behind back. Might kill her, to spare self more humiliation. Must think on it. Also, bored with assistants.
Fuck.
---
1997 - July;
I can't believe I still have this; I swear I threw it away last time. But I am apparently unable to resist reminiscing. My current self included.
I have recently been promoted (putting it delicately, I have succeeded Pius Thicknesse as Head of Magical Law Enforcement). Thus, I am primarily responsible for the new Ministry regime. Blood Status. Registration makes easier targets; I plan to have most of the Mudbloods in prison by September. Probably going to kill the rest.
On the whole, I am enjoying my new power. I am considering using it to get myself a divorce. (I am sick of footing the bill for the stupid bitch's little man-harem.) Killing her would be a bad idea, I've realized. It would too much suspicion. (Would have been damn satisfying, though.)
Incidentally: I ran into Sinistra during the Hogwarts raid last month. Completely batty. Kept waving a washcloth around and asking about my hair. (She was probably in shock; Snape killed Dumbledore not long prior.) Somehow, she is still cute.
Apparently: I need to get laid.
---
1997 - August;
I must be spending too much time in the company of that old toad. My brain seems to have turned to mush. I can't think worth a damn. I looked for this, this time; it's probably better to keep everything like this in one place, I figure. If I have my thoughts, written neatly out like this, scattered all over the place, it might be too easy for someone to find and use against me later. (I confess, I may be a bit paranoid, in my old age.)
We investigated Mudbloods all morning (all convicted). Interestingly, I bumped into an unexpected sight on my way to lunch. It seems Miss-or Professor, rather; I tend to forget this-Sinistra insists upon accidentally finding her way back into my life. (She looks sad.)
I also apparently have the observational and descriptive abilities of a six-year-old. Possibly, I am losing all mental faculties not related to work. I should get out more. (My job has compromised most of my time; controlling the Ministry takes a lot of effort. But I can probably afford to relax a bit, as things seem to be running smoothly.) Maybe I ought to invite Sinistra to dinner.
That is a terrible idea. I am definitely going insane. I honestly have no idea where that notion came from.
I really do need to get laid.
---
1997 - August (again);
Either Auriga is far more naïve than I thought, or she is just as eager as I am for a break from the constant 'war' going on. She has not once mentioned the Dark Lord or my affiliation with him; I have been seeing her every night for the last two weeks.
Clearly, I lost the previous battle with my libido. Honestly, I have no reason to regret it. Yet. Not that I suspect that I will regret it. Just because she works at Hogwarts does not mean that we cannot coexist, ah, peacefully. (If you can call it that. 'Peacefully coexisting' makes a rather nice euphemism for sex, doesn't it?) Provided it stays between us.
I have, the past few days, been reminded of how much I used to enjoy her company. She may be a mere shade of her former self-thanks to years of failed relationships and self-doubt and whatever else it is that women worry unnecessarily about, I suspect-but enough alcohol transforms her into a fair replica of her nineteen-year-old (and significantly more charismatic) self.
On a related note, I cannot help but feel marginally responsible for her current sorry state. Not that it is my fault that she has continued to pursue men who have no hope of really appreciating her. But I do know how difficult it is to overcome the reputation of one's parents, in hopes of forcing people to see what you've actually made of yourself. Unfortunately, I have achieved this significantly better than she. (When I look at Auriga, now, I see a woman who has buckled under the weight of her own past, and failed to rise again. I, however, have eclipsed both my political and genetic predecessors.)
Despite her pitiable state, I find I am fond of her as I have ever been.
She is, at any rate, an excellent distraction.
---
1997 - September;
That certainly did not last long.
(This time, it was my fault.)
It won't happen again.
Probably.
A Vague and Inconsistent Chronicle of the Life of One A.L. Yaxley
1980 - August;
Yaxley. Lysander Aldous. Twenty-six. Department of Magical Law Enforcement, British Ministry for Magic.
I am not self-involved enough to keep a diary. Nor am I pompous enough to think that there will ever come a time at which anyone would ever wish to read my memoirs (and as such I do not write them). However, it has been suggested to me that, on occasion, putting certain thoughts down in words can be helpful in the self-analysis and decision-making processes. Normally, I would ask Lucius' advice, but he has lately been very busy being married. Which to me sounds like he and Narcissa have been occupying themselves primarily with scampering about their new home, looking for new and different places in which to have sex. This differs little from their courtship, except that being married, they have a slew of new rooms and furniture in which or on which to shag.
That said, I do not think I shall see Lucius until Wednesday, when he will have to show up for work as there is to be an all-staff meeting. At which we are supposed to be discussing Ministry-approved security measures now the Dark Lord is at large. If only they knew how “at large” he really is. Ought to be a laugh, anyway.
But I digress. In the absence of a friend-as I do not think it would be especially wise to discuss the matter at great length with any of my other cohorts, considering the nature of my dilemma-I find myself in need of some other objective method of collecting my thoughts. Hence, this.
I have been, until this point, doing a very poor job of being succinct. So, getting to the point:
I met a girl.
This, in itself, is not the issue. I have met and know (mostly carnally) a fair number of women. Auriga Sinistra is not remarkable, among them; she is relatively smarter than many of the women I have been with and is certainly not hard on the eyes. And her mother is some kind of minor celebrity-her name is always mentioned by critics as a person who might make a better Minister than the current presider.
I have not slept with her.
Also, not the problem.
The problem is that I rather like her. Well enough, perhaps, to turn in my bachelorhood for the yoke of a 'serious relationship.' (I did suspect I would have to grow up and do it, some time.) She is not as intolerably idiotic as most women, though she does seem a bit the nervous type. Although that can be remedied.
The greater problem, however, is that she is not pureblood. The mother comes from good stock: Canadian, but that can be forgiven, as the Ridgebits were Scottish, originally. But no one seems to know about the father. She's said that he teaches Astronomy, but I have since learned that it is not an interest exclusive to wizards. As such, I and my network of informants (in the form of several chatty and well-connected debutantes) can only conclude that the fellow must be Mudblood or Muggle.
To have a brief affair with a halfblood (or less) would be of little note, among my peers, but to consider seeing one exclusively-particularly to the neglect of pureblood prospects-might cause my master displeasure. And I, of course, have little desire to excite his wrath.
On the other hand, it has been confided to me (as it was confided to Lucius) that there are certain among us whose blood is not entirely pure. And though the affront has, at least in one case, been reconciled by the removal of the offending family member, it nevertheless gives me hope.
I suppose, in any case, it cannot hurt to take her out once or twice.
---
1980 - December;
Further pause on the matter has led me to the resumption of this writing. (I have, at a most coincidentally appropriate time, found this sheet of parchment folded inside an old novel.)
I have been seeing Auriga Sinistra for five months, as of Christmas. To say that I am quite fond of her would be an understatement. I may be in love with her. She is bright and attentive and has lost much of her uneasy manner, since we have been together. Not to mention (which, in polite company, I have not) that she is incredibly, ah, enthusiastic in bed. I have honestly never met a woman quite so eager to please me-the double-entendre applies.
My friends, for the most part, seem to like her. And she has come to fit in well enough among them.
The matter to which I am leading up to is this: the longer I date her, the more inclined I am to think that I should like to marry her. She would, I think, make a pretty and pleasant wife.
Having not divulged the issue of her bloodline to anyone that was not already aware, I would not imagine this to be an issue. She has already had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting my parents and sister, who all could think of no worse criticism beside that it was not they who introduced us, and I have recently become acquainted with her mother. (Who, I have subsequently learned, could not be more thrilled or skeptical that I chose her daughter to be my companion; she does not, apparently, have a very high opinion of Auriga, but prefers her elder daughter.) And we have been together a sufficient amount of time to determine that she is not solely after my family's money-else she would have been sure to get pregnant as soon as possible to secure my commitment.
Were I to propose the matter to my parents, or her mother, I do not think anyone would be opposed to it.
That said, I am nevertheless faced with a formidable obstacle: Narcissa.
My cousin's wife is regrettably the same age as my potential one. Meaning they attended Hogwarts together. It is no secret that dear Narcissa was a bit of a bully to the other girls in her year, undoubtedly picking up the torch from her lunatic sister, but she had been particularly nasty to Auriga. As much as one might expect, as a skinny, bespectacled teenage girl, I suppose. The nastiness extending to the point of digging up and spreading around incredible tales about the Sinistra family, the most significant of these being that the father was a Muggle garbage man. Auriga doesn't deny it; she says that he was a garbage man, when she was young, but has since become a teacher.
The point being that Narcissa possesses knowledge which could easily be used to destroy my current matrimonial plans. And also that she has threatened to use said knowledge, should I exhibit any inclination to marry Auriga Sinistra.
I have little doubt that, left to her own devices, Narcissa would carry this out. Anything that she reported to her in-laws (my mother's brother and his wife) would in a very short span of time travel to my parents' ears. And no matter how much they like or do not like Auriga, there is nothing that would, to them, reconcile her for being the daughter of a man with no magical abilities whatsoever.
I do have faith that Lucius, being possibly the best friend a bloke could hope to have-and thus, understanding of the requirements for my prolonged happiness-will step in and put a stop to the shrew's scheming. (Still, I sometimes cannot help but worry.)
But with any luck, Auriga and I will be engaged before the new year.
---
1987 - March;
I have found this amongst a stack of books brought from my old flat, that have been sitting in a box in my study for two years, now. Having reread it, I cannot help but be torn between amusement and revulsion at my own naïve idiocy.
To clarify, the Dark Lord is dead. Vanquished while trying to kill the Potter child he believed was prophesied to be his downfall. A bit ironic, really. As a result, the child has become a national icon.
In addition, perhaps equally importantly, I seem to have married an insufferable whore.
That is, shortly after my last writing, I split up with the Sinistra girl when my parents threatened to disown me, if I continued to see her. (Apparently, I was wrong in trusting Lucius to prevent Narcissa from meddling. He insists, to this day, that his inaction was for my own good. I remain skeptical.) I was then immediately engaged to a Miss Cordelia Greengrass, with whom my sister Calpurnia attended school. I was less-than-thrilled with the matter, but it was not the girl's fault. As such, I did my best to treat her as a man should regard his wife. If I could not, in time, bring myself to love her, then I would at least carry out her wishes as reason and ability allowed.
Her wishes, at the time, included a good deal of sex. Every single night before bed. Sometimes, afternoons. To be frank, her appetite was insatiable.
Being at the time a fledgling Ministry employee, it often fell to me to resolve minor crises, while my superiors left the office in time to make their seven o'clock dinner reservations. As a result, I arrived home late one night. Cora was already asleep.
We have not had sex since. At least, one of us has not. (Guess which one.)
I have subsequently discovered that Cora has had affairs with no fewer than twelve of my coworkers. In my department. I am sure the number outside my department is much higher. Discounting, of course, non-Ministry employees, women, and possibly animals. (I would at this point put nothing past her.)
For the past several weeks, I have been considering moving out of our home. I have already vacated the bedroom we used to share, in favor of my childhood room. Were I any other wizard, I might just divorce her. Sadly, ironically I suppose, it is taboo among our class. But I honestly cannot stand to be around her, any longer.
I can only hope that a flat in London (under the guise of wanting to have a bed closer to my place of employment) and my pretty new assistant will be enough to assuage all of the aggravation the harpy has caused me, these last five years.
---
1995 - June;
Rediscovered among a box of photographs. (Surprisingly haven't burnt it yet. Must be getting sentimental.) Only half as idiotic as previously thought.
Meaning: the Dark Lord has returned. Apparently thanks to Pettigrew. Luckily, none were punished for failing to search for Him. Privately suspect that He would be out a dozen or so followers, if He did. Doubt He can afford that, right now.
On the other hand: Still married. Seeing more and more coworkers laughing behind back. Might kill her, to spare self more humiliation. Must think on it. Also, bored with assistants.
Fuck.
---
1997 - July;
I can't believe I still have this; I swear I threw it away last time. But I am apparently unable to resist reminiscing. My current self included.
I have recently been promoted (putting it delicately, I have succeeded Pius Thicknesse as Head of Magical Law Enforcement). Thus, I am primarily responsible for the new Ministry regime. Blood Status. Registration makes easier targets; I plan to have most of the Mudbloods in prison by September. Probably going to kill the rest.
On the whole, I am enjoying my new power. I am considering using it to get myself a divorce. (I am sick of footing the bill for the stupid bitch's little man-harem.) Killing her would be a bad idea, I've realized. It would too much suspicion. (Would have been damn satisfying, though.)
Incidentally: I ran into Sinistra during the Hogwarts raid last month. Completely batty. Kept waving a washcloth around and asking about my hair. (She was probably in shock; Snape killed Dumbledore not long prior.) Somehow, she is still cute.
Apparently: I need to get laid.
---
1997 - August;
I must be spending too much time in the company of that old toad. My brain seems to have turned to mush. I can't think worth a damn. I looked for this, this time; it's probably better to keep everything like this in one place, I figure. If I have my thoughts, written neatly out like this, scattered all over the place, it might be too easy for someone to find and use against me later. (I confess, I may be a bit paranoid, in my old age.)
We investigated Mudbloods all morning (all convicted). Interestingly, I bumped into an unexpected sight on my way to lunch. It seems Miss-or Professor, rather; I tend to forget this-Sinistra insists upon accidentally finding her way back into my life. (She looks sad.)
I also apparently have the observational and descriptive abilities of a six-year-old. Possibly, I am losing all mental faculties not related to work. I should get out more. (My job has compromised most of my time; controlling the Ministry takes a lot of effort. But I can probably afford to relax a bit, as things seem to be running smoothly.) Maybe I ought to invite Sinistra to dinner.
That is a terrible idea. I am definitely going insane. I honestly have no idea where that notion came from.
I really do need to get laid.
---
1997 - August (again);
Either Auriga is far more naïve than I thought, or she is just as eager as I am for a break from the constant 'war' going on. She has not once mentioned the Dark Lord or my affiliation with him; I have been seeing her every night for the last two weeks.
Clearly, I lost the previous battle with my libido. Honestly, I have no reason to regret it. Yet. Not that I suspect that I will regret it. Just because she works at Hogwarts does not mean that we cannot coexist, ah, peacefully. (If you can call it that. 'Peacefully coexisting' makes a rather nice euphemism for sex, doesn't it?) Provided it stays between us.
I have, the past few days, been reminded of how much I used to enjoy her company. She may be a mere shade of her former self-thanks to years of failed relationships and self-doubt and whatever else it is that women worry unnecessarily about, I suspect-but enough alcohol transforms her into a fair replica of her nineteen-year-old (and significantly more charismatic) self.
On a related note, I cannot help but feel marginally responsible for her current sorry state. Not that it is my fault that she has continued to pursue men who have no hope of really appreciating her. But I do know how difficult it is to overcome the reputation of one's parents, in hopes of forcing people to see what you've actually made of yourself. Unfortunately, I have achieved this significantly better than she. (When I look at Auriga, now, I see a woman who has buckled under the weight of her own past, and failed to rise again. I, however, have eclipsed both my political and genetic predecessors.)
Despite her pitiable state, I find I am fond of her as I have ever been.
She is, at any rate, an excellent distraction.
---
1997 - September;
That certainly did not last long.
(This time, it was my fault.)
It won't happen again.
Probably.