AN: After quite a long hiatus, I have decided… what the hell, I've got the time… I have no idea why, but I hope this is an interesting, albeit dark tale. Hopefully, some of those who read my other stories, will read this as well and hopefully their tastes have grown along with my writing. As always, please review... :)
Narcissa Chronicles: My Life With the Monster
"Foreword by Draco Malfoy
As you will soon find out, my dearest mother has kept a diary or journal, if you will, all these years. She has gone through the tough, the hard, the tearful, and the joyous. I'd like to tell you that I loved my mum dearly, but she was forbidden to bring me love. And you will soon read how the Monster forbid her and kept her from giving it. Narcissa Malfoy was a delicate flower, a white daisy— yet she was strong through it all.
Now, I will not make you wait any further. Please be ready to read the treacherous tale of a woman under chains. This novel may be of quite a length, but each word was heart-felt and private. The last wishes of my mum were for all to read about a nameless man we all call the Monster. Do not fret, because this is also being used as primary evidence in the conviction of the Monster's case for abusing the Magical Law by the usage of Dark Arts. Read on!
Draco Alexander Malfoy" -as taken from Ch. 40, Starlight Butterly, Dark Dagger
Dearest Diary,
It's long past midnight, and I have finally turned to you as my companion. Only the glow of a small candle that I have hidden from my parents aids me now. And, as every time I write, I do not know if I will be able to finish the entry… or if I will ever write again. Times are becoming more dangerous for me— for everyone, really— and the very fact that I am writing this now frightens me so. I have no idea why I'm risking my life by the using a diary and some ink… But for some reason, I feel like I must still continue on in a true, sincere record.
As I mentioned in my last entry, tonight was to be my sixteenth birthday celebration. And note that: it was to be. Unfortunately, events conspired once again to destroy the normal… not evil… life. Halfway through the final fitting and tailoring of my ball gown, an urgent message was delivered to Mother. Within five minutes, the small dress shop was ambushed by bloodthirsty Aurors, who blew up anything and everything in sight. Unfortunately, the dear Madame Carello was slaughtered in this massacre, while Mother and I were on the nearly untraceable Knight Bus for four minutes and thirty seconds.
We returned to the manor and Father righteously cancelled the ball. Despite my protestations, Mother only acquiesced with a level, empty gaze. The only look she seems to give now. Cold. Empty. Gaze. Father told me that we must act as the other wizards in "times like this." I tried to protest again.
Which brings me here. Locked in the dungeons with a bloodied face. It's okay, though, really. They won't leave me like this— school begins in a month and they won't punish me for that long. I have books and supplies to buy and robes to purchase and… and I…
No. I must be honest. Or else… who will? Something is terribly wrong with Father and Mother. I've noticed it since the beginning of summer, but I tried to do away with my suspicions. It is only too obvious. Talk of "other" wizards, and then running away from the Aurors… it is plain to see that we are not on the typical "good side" anymore. There is talk of a Dark Lord. There is talk of initiations, business arrangements, purchasing objects thought not to exist, and… and of a rising. A revolution of sorts.
I am beyond afraid. Father has never beaten me by hand before. I am not stupid; it is a sign that he is worried his wand will be checked at work. Work? I am not sure he is in the magical export business anymore. He keeps mentioning his business arrangements… every meal. And it is not the fact that he mentions it, but the way in which he does so is quite odd. His voice lowers, his eyes flash to Mother's, and that is all he says. "Making progress on that business arrangement," he says. Or, "Unfortunately, I could not acquire the right connections to complete that business I have been talking to you about. It's quite curious, the care and precision to be taken for that arrangement…" And nothing more.
I must go now. The light burns low, and I am forbidden to use magic outside of Hogwarts— another shame since precious purity bleeds from the cut on my forehead, which aches terribly. I.. no, the door rattles, I must go.
-N.