Title: Daddy's Girls 1/?

Author: Empath Apathique

Summary: Draco Malfoy has five daughters.

Note: This idea was born one Saturday night late 2006 after rewatching the BBC production of Pride & Prejudice. And, well. I don't have an excuse, really, other than that. I have many parts written in my notebook. The story isn't finished, but it will be. It will be told out of order, in little ficlets much like the one below

Luella Rivera hurriedly ran her fingers through her hair, looking at herself in the mirror as she inspected her face for messy makeup or any blemishes that had decided to develop over the course of the day. She pinched her cheeks, making bright red splotches of color to blossom on their surface. She uncapped her lipstick, dropping the cap in her haste as her assistant informed her that she had thirty seconds. She swiped the colored stick across her top lip then the bottom, leaving the uncapped cosmetic on bathroom counter as she raced out of the loo. Her assistant met her at the door, giving her a run down on where they were with her latest interview. It was due to start in fifteen seconds, and her charges were already waiting in the reception room. Their heels clicked obnoxiously against the tiled floor as they raced down the hall, Luella's assistant drilling her on last minute questions and things to remember up until they reached the large mahogany door.

She paused, closing her eyes and inhaling a deep breath through her nose as she stood in front of the door. She was a piece of wood away from conducting the biggest interview of her life. She'd only been working at Witch Weekly for two years, however she knew people who'd been then for ten and had yet to receive such a large assignment. But those people weren't good at what they did; while they may have been phenomenal writers, they hadn't the skills the play the game that would get them somewhere in the journalism world—skills Luella Rivera possessed in aces. She couldn't help it, not really. Her entire family had been in journalism: her father had been the editor of a prominent paper in Spain until his death a few years ago, and her mother had written for a local paper until she'd decided to settle down and have a few kids. Even her uncle—a distant Muggle relative who lived in the States—worked in television journalism, having his own daytime talk shows broadcasted on Muggle TV. Reporting was in her blood.

Luella had left her homeland of Spain to escape the prestige that followed her family's name in the writing world to see if she could make it on her own. She was smart and good at what she did. It also helped that she was Pansy Potter's pet. Because really, no matter how good a writer was, no one got a stellar assignment such as interviewing the Malfoy girls after only two years of experience. Miss Pansy was supposed to take the job herself. However, the glamorous woman thought she was far too attached to the parties involved to give an unbiased report and, in a spark of goodwill, had passed the assignment on to Luella. This was Luella's big break; it would decide whether she remained in Britain, successful, or returned home to Spain a failure.

Going home wasn't an option. Luella opened the door.

Draco Malfoy had five daughters.

The older two were tall, long-limbed creatures that girls often envied in school, while the younger duo was more picturesque in their appearance. The youngest girl had hair far beyond her shoulders, the silky strands naturally coiling themselves into loose ringlets while the other had hair straighter than imaginable, her golden locks somehow managing to curl delicately at their tips. Their faces were round and soft, both still retaining their childhood chubbiness and having the plumpest little cheeks. The middle girl appeared to be trapped somewhere in between these two stages, tall and lanky in an almost awkward way while her face shed the remainders of her childhood days.

Blonde and beautiful, they each had big bright eyes framed with long dark lashes and smiling pink lips. Their hair was varying shades of blonde, ranging from the pale shade of their father to sun-kissed gold, the middle child having unruly locks a shade of blonde so dark it was almost as if it were trying to mimic the color of her mother's, from whom the girl had inherited her hair's wild texture. Their eyes were blue and grey and brown ,and they each had noses just like their mother; however, Luella found their faces to be a delightful mix of features from both parents, creating the most stunning girls the foreign woman had ever seen.

Currently, the girls spread themselves out on the couches of the reception room, the oldest of the bunch taking charge by situating herself between the younger ones while the other two sat across from them, chatting amicably on the other couch.

Luella paused, feeling anxiety seize her. She was in the same room with the daughters of the infamous Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter go-to girl Hermione Malfoy nee Granger. They were beautiful—as only children of such a pair could be—but Miss Pansy had told her specifically that the group could get a bit nasty when they wanted to. She would know; Miss Pansy acted as godmother for the oldest girl and was Hermione Malfoy's best friend. The two families were close.

But it would do Luella no good to be intimidated by a group of girls. Luella was hardly much older than the eldest herself, however she reasoned that she had a job to do, and if she wanted to keep Miss Pansy's favor—and her position at Witch Weekly—then she very well get to it.

She took a deep breath once again, releasing it quickly before clearing her throat. The girls turned to look at her, smiles shining on their faces.

"Good day," she said professionally.

There was a chorus of responses from the seated girls.

Luella smiled. She could do this. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting," she told them, moving around the couch two of the girls was sitting on to take a seat in the solitary armchair situated between the two sofas. "Last minute briefing."

The eldest, Luciana, shook her head. "We weren't waiting long," she said. "It's nice to meet you, Ms. Rivera."

Luella smiled. "It's nice to meet you all as well."

"I'm Brigitte," the youngest, ringletted girl proclaimed, sounding very much like she thought she was the most important thing in the world. "Can I call you Luella?"

"Brigitte," one of the other girls—Catherine—reprimanded, giving her a reproachful look.

"It's fine," Luella said, shaking her head. "May I call you 'Brigitte'?"

Brigitte smiled sweetly, nodding in acquiescence. "Of course—" She looked at her sister. "—Luella."

Diana glared at her. "You're a right little ray of sunshine today, aren't you, Bree?" she said tightly.

Brigitte nodded again, looking as imperious and regal as her father was said to be. "Father tells me everyday—"

"Oh, for the love of—"

"Diana."

Luciana's voice brought the younger girl's words to a screeching halt, and young Diana turned to level her sister with a petulant look. Luciana smiled at her, though Luella was able to identify something fierce in Luciana's eyes that she recognized from the looks her own older sister would give her when they were girls. It was the patented 'cállate-la-boca' look, and the results were always dire later if you didn't comply. However, though Luciana was six years older than Catherine, and the younger girl didn't seem to think that those six years was enough to give Luciana any authority over her.

Diana looked young Brigitte square in the face and said, "You're a brat."

"Lucy!" Brigitte complained.

Luciana rolled her eyes. "Merlin, Diana," she said. "Must you be such a child."

Diana flipped her choppy blonde locks over her shoulder and said, "Yes, Lucy, I must."

Luciana glared at her, then turned to Luella, a polite smile plastered on her lips. "Forgive my sisters," she apologized. "They can be—"

"Lucy," Brigitte interjected. "Aren't you going to do anything to her?"

"What would you like me to do to her, Bree?" she asked, annoyed. "Hex her? Allow you to stun her to your heart's content?"

"Do something," she said. "Father would do something."

"Father wouldn't do anything," Diana replied. "Father likes me."

Brigitte glowered at her. "He likes me better."

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Pipe down, Brigitte."

"Shut up," the younger girl said, turning her now tearful gaze to her other sister.

Luciana sighed. "Oh, Bree, don't cry."

Diana glared. "She's faking it."

Luciana sent a glare in her direction. "You're hardly helping the situation." She patted Brigitte's back soothingly. "Come on, love. Don't cry. This is a special day for us, don't you remember?"

Slowly, the eight-year-old nodded her head.

Sophia leaned around Luciana, looking at Brigitte. "Father and Mother, too," she said.

Luciana nodded grimly. "You know Father would hate for us to embarrass him. Imagine what Miss Luella will write, with you behaving this way."

Brigitte looked down, ashamed. "I suppose," she said, looking at Luella from beneath her lashes. She looked almost ashamed, and Luella smiled to herself, amazed that a child with a temper as fierce as Brigitte's could still manage to be so bloody cute. She said, "You won't write anything bad about me, will you?"

Luella smiled. "Of course not," she said. "I wouldn't want your father to be upset."

Brigitte smiled at her bashfully, before turning her gaze back to her Luciana. "There," she proclaimed. "She said she won't write anything mean. Now," her eyes, a frosty blue that reminded Luella of a fierce winter storm, settled on her second sister. "Apologize."

Diana leaned forward in her seat, glowering at her younger sister.

Luella could feel a thread of unease run through her. She said, "Now, girls—"

"Apologize."

Catherine sighed, "Here we go…"

Luella looked to the fifteen-year-old, and the bored expression she wore. It was as if this was business as usual, and Luella suddenly remembered Miss Pansy's warning, that the Malfoy girls were known for being rowdy—whatever that could mean. Though she suddenly feared the argument might become physical, and she wondered how she would handle an argument between a teenager and an eight-year-old girl.

But that was ridiculous, she told herself. Mentally, she pinched herself. She needed to get her head out of the clouds and focus on the problem she was faced with right now.

She cleared her throat, loudly. "We really must be getting started—"

Brigitte scowled at her. "As soon as Diana apologizes."

Luciana looked at her sharply. "Brigitte. You know better than to speak that way."

Brigitte crossed her arms angrily, looking down at her nose at Luella. "I'm sorry."

Diana snorted. "This is what I mean. She acts as if she's the queen of bloody England and she gets off with a 'Brigitte.' It's not fair."

Luciana looked at her incredulously. "Sweet Merlin, Catie, she's eight."

"What's her age have to do with the price of tea in China? Nothing, that's what. You're not being fair. You're never fair. Not you, not Mum. And certainly not Dad. And Grandfather—forget it." She looked to Luella. "Are you writing this down? I certainly hope you are. Our family dynamics are key, you see."

Luella was speechless.

Luciana was positively aghast.

Beside her, Sophia looked beside herself, her eyes darting between Diana and Brigitte as the tension continued to mount. She looked about as nervous as Luella felt. Her grey eyes found Luella, a plea for aid that Luella had no idea how to give.

Diana looked briefly at Luciana. "I. Don't. Care." She turned back to Brigitte. "You want me to apologize, princess?" She smirked. "Make me."

Faster than Luella could follow, Brigitte launched herself from the couch, leaping full over the table between the two couches as she tackled her sister. Luella saw Diana's eyes widen just as Brigitte landed, her dress creating a halo around her legs as she and Diana tussled on the couch.

Luciana immediately moved to separate them, though Catherine was already on the scene, attempting to detangle Brigitte's hands from Diana's riotous hair.

Both Luciana and Catherine were yelling, but Diana and Brigitte were yelling, too, red-faced and teary-eyed as their older sisters broke up their brawl.

On the couch, Sophia was sobbing into her palms. "Why do you guys always have to start fighting?" she cried.

Her words were otherwise ignored. Catherine was holding a squirming Brigitte about the waist, speaking to her in a harsh whisper that Luella could just barely hear while Luciana and Diana argued on the other side of the couch, Diana's hair in disarray as she held her cheek.

Sophia looked to her sisters, then to Luella, who could offer no words for the situation. She stood up from her seat, and all eyes seemed to find her immediately.

Luciana said, "Sophie—"

Sophia shook her head angrily. "I'm calling Dad."

She ran from the room. Luella wondered, briefly, how she would be able to call her father, but the girl was a Malfoy; doubting her resourcefully was foolishness to the highest degree. She turned to the remaining girls on the couching, watching as horror seemed to seep into each of their visage.

Luella felt it, too. She had never met the infamous Draco Malfoy—had never thought she would meet him, even though she was interviewing his five girls. She thought of the scowling photos she'd seen in the paper, and felt her stomach sink to her feet. She wondered what was worse: dealing with Draco Malfoy, or having to deal with her boss. At the thought of Miss Pansy, Luella thought she would be ill.

She was going to murder her.

She wondered, briefly, if she should try to leave now. Not that it would stop Miss Pansy from finding her, warpath that she would be on.

Brigitte began to wail. "Daddy's going to be so mad at meee!"

Catherine glared at her. "This is all your fault, to begin with."

This made Brigitte cry all the more, though none of the girls even bothered to tell her to shut up. Luella figured it was the shock. Hell, she felt it, too. Draco Malfoy was coming and they were all going to die—the Malfoy girls for misbehaving and Luella for not making them behave. Not that there was anything she could do. But still, what did those things matter, when facing one of the most powerful men in Western Europe?

She heard a hiccup, and realized that, this time, it was Diana.

Catherine sighed. "There goes the new broom I wanted…"

Luciana grimaced. "There goes my wedding."

Luella glared at them both. "There goes my entire bloody job."

Catherine made a low, oooing sound. "Our bad."

"Cate."

"What? She's going to be fired—"

"You're not helping—"

"There is no helping. Father is going to be pissed—"

Luella cringed.

"—with you, especially. You were supposed to be in charge, Luciana."

Brigitte was still bawling. "I'm really, really sorry," she wailed.

Luella closed her eyes. "Of course," she said.

She was only a girl, after all.

There was a swell of magic, and each of them looked up as they heard the telltale crack of Apparition.

Brigitte began to cry harder, and Luella looked to her, understanding completely.

After all, she felt like bawling, too.

A/N: More to come in weeks to follow. Updates will be sporadic, as I am working on many, many things, and I haven't written Draco/Hermione since 2008, haha.

Reviews are love.