Dear future son of Narcissa and mine,

Oh, currently-nonexistent son, you do not know how much of a freak Narcissa thinks I am for writing this. Of course, you'll already know her name, because no doubt she'll be your mother. You see, my parents just informed me yesterday of this arranged marriage between me and her, and how we have to have a son for an heir and all that crap, and how I basically would have to dump my girlfriend for some chick I barely knew.

Isn't this family just great, son?

I wouldn't even mind the dumping part that much if it weren't for the fact that Bellatrix Black was my girlfriend. That's right, was. Because I did the deed just last night. And let me tell you, future son, it did not go well. At all.

That could be confirmed by how just an hour ago Narcissa came up here to my secret office-type-place in the empty Divination room saying, "She's written you a poem."

"What, like love poetry? Is she filled with an aching regret for charming off half my hair?" I snapped back, frowning and again running a hand through my now only, what, two-or-three-inches-long hair? It was way longer before.

"More than half," Narcissa smirked, politely holding back most of her humor. "Hey, it doesn't look half-bad," she offered up.

"Yeah. It looks whole-bad," I said. Narcissa just winked at me and tossed a much-read piece of parchment to me before leaving.

Then I read this really badly-written poem, son. Seriously, Bellatrix is an absolutely horrible poet. I get why she would be sort of distressed, however. Narcissa is her younger sister...

The Blacks are a totally messed-up family for arranging this. And great timing, too!

Anyway, here's the poem:

"Lucius is an old sly fox

If I catch him I'll put him in a box

Lock the box and throw away the key

For all the tricks he's played on me."

I know, right?

Come to think of it, I'm probably currently pissed at your... aunt? Yes, aunt. Weird, right? Right.

I'm pretty much done here, writing this, since I've got to go back down to the dorms before curfew cuts me off. So, see you later, son. Or... now? I don't know. Perhaps you won't find this until I'm dead.

It'll be a rather jolly funeral for you, then. Good luck.

Sincerely, Lucius.

"Lucius? You've got to come back soon." Narcissa popped up again from behind the door. "It's nearly-"

"I know," Lucius said shortly, standing up and shoving the letter in his pocket.

"Can I read it?" Narcissa asked him, and he immediately shook his head.

"No way."

"Fine... She's written you another one. Or maybe it's just the fifth-years' parody-version of it, I'm not sure. But I found it floating around outside. There were more copies, too..." Narcissa trailed off, handing over the parchment scrap. But he didn't take it.

"Read it to me," Lucius ordered her.

"Er, well. Okay." She began to read from Bellatrix's poem. "'Lucius is an old sly bass, If I catch him I'll take his wand and stick it up his-'"

"Beautiful," Lucius groaned. "I hate your sister!"

"Weren't you, like, just dating her? Yesterday?"

"Well, duh!"

"Why did you..."

"I DON"T KNOW. GOOD NIGHT, NARCISSA."

"Night, Lucy," she answered as she led the way back to the dungeons.

"I told you not to call me that!"

"Did not."

"I just did."

"Wow. My parents sure picked a good one, didn't they?"

"Is that SARCASM that I sense?"

"Of course not, Mr. Black."

"Mrs. Malfoy."

"This is not going to go well, is it?"

"Marriage sucks."

A/N: Okay, so I just got bored and wanted to write something... anything, so I churned that out of my system. Please don't think it's that... I don't know, bad? It's a far cry from the Draco/Hermione stuff I usually write, but it was okay. I think. Ah, whatever.