Author's note: I have not abandoned "An Innocent Obsession" or "Scenes from a Seduction," but this story slipped into my mind over the summer, and now that it's almost finished, I'm ready to share. This is mostly canon compliant. Sort of. Just go with it. Rated M for language and references to sex and violence.

Many thanks to Tassana Burfoot, Ariel Riddle, and Lovergurrl411 who read portions of this story and said yes, it really was funny and I should keep writing.

Chapter 1

I had a good life before HE came back, really I did. Oh sure, that whole nasty business with the Dark Lord trying to take over the Wizarding World did not work out how I'd planned or hoped, but on the whole my life was not bad.

I avoided Azkaban after the first war because frankly, I am too pretty for prison. Can you imagine this glorious mane behind bars? No? Me neither.

A hefty bribe to numerous politicians didn't hurt either.

It was a blow to my ego, no doubt, to have to rely on that "But I was under the imperius curse!" defence. After all, my magical prowess is known far and wide, so it was almost laughable to have to pretend someone could imperius ME. But needs must, so pretend I did.

And so it went. I was saved from prison, and my wife's insane sister, brother-in-law, and his brother were all locked up for life. It wasn't the best possible outcome, but I am nothing if not a consummate Slytherin, and I could plot and plan. I had a beautiful wife, great hair, a perfect heir, and the Malfoy fortune behind me.

What could possibly go wrong?

~oOo~

As it turned out, a lot, actually.

I wanted my heir to attend Durmstrang. They're known for their training in the dark arts. How am I to train my heir for our glorious future as leaders of the magical world if he can't cast a simple avada kedavra at the end of first year? Hogwarts really has gone downhill since Dumbledore took over. But no, my wife insisted her precious baby be close by. Hogwarts is in SCOTLAND, witch! It's not as if he's next door, but we have apparition and floos and portkeys, and damn it, she could just as easily use those to get to Durmstrang.

In retrospect, her logic was fundamentally flawed, and I must shamefully admit I did not notice because I was too busy enjoying her feminine charms. My wife has a rather talented mouth and can be rather, shall we say, persuasive when she wants to be.

So off to Hogwarts Draco was sent.

My son had ONE job. Just one.

Make friends with Harry Potter.

At no more than an infant, barely a toddler really, this child destroyed the Dark Lord, the most evil, powerful wizard known to wizard-kind. Grown men cowered before him, but he was defeated by a BABY. This Potter heir was obviously incredibly powerful himself and destined to be the new Dark Lord. Clearly Draco had to establish himself as Harry Potter's confidante, to rise up with him into a glorious future, as the power behind the throne.

Except that the boy bollocks-ed the whole thing on day one, and all year long - including during school breaks - I had to hear about 'stupid bloody Potter and his stupid bloody broomstick, and his spot on the quidditch team, and the blatant favoritism from Dumbledore.' All legitimate complaints, mind you, not to mention the utter absurdity of Dumbledore hiding a fucking cerebus inside a school filled with CHILDREN.

As I said, Hogwarts has gone downhill. Clearly they could all benefit from my leadership, not to mention good looks. Really, the average age on the Board of Governors is at least 120.

I joined [read: bribed my way onto] the Hogwarts Board of Governors and set about trying to improve the school for the better, but Dumbledore must have blackmail material on some of the other members. That's the only explanation I have for why they pushed for him to remain as headmaster when a creature was literally petrifying students in Draco's second year. Granted, I don't exactly care if a beast eats a few mudbloods, but I had to pretend to in order to push Dumbles out the door.

Seriously, you have an entire school filled with professors - including one teaching about magical creatures - and an entire library filled with books, and NO ONE thought that gee, perhaps Salazar Slytherin's magical beast was a GIANT FUCKING SNAKE? And even then, they LET Dumbledore come back!

There was, of course, that whole incredibly awkward situation with me putting that diary into the youngest Weasley's cauldron. For the record, I did NOT know what it would do. And do you know why? Because I'm not a bloody idiot! When the Dark Lord hands you a diary and says "Hold onto this for me," you don't fucking open it and start writing in it!

Did I read it? That's a dumb fucking question. Of course I opened it and hoped to read about his mysterious origins or the secrets to his fantastical power. The damn thing was blank. I shoved it in a drawer and promptly forgot about it until Arthur Weasley started trying to boost his stature within the Ministry by arranging repeated needless, invasive, and utterly ridiculous raids on my family's ancestral home, all in search of some pathetic excuse to throw me in prison.

He and the rest of those sods at the Ministry are utterly useless at their jobs - which is why the Dark Lord's initial rise to power was so successful - because no less than eight Aurors have handled that diary in the past, looked at a blank diary with an unfamiliar name on it, and shrugged and set it aside. The damn thing leaks dark magic like a fucking sieve. How they failed to notice that is beyond me, but then, I suppose people are always pathetically looking for the most obvious.

It's amazing to me, it really is. All of these invasive searches of my family's home, and they missed so many objects. The education at Hogwarts is so lacking and the Ministry training apparently so poor that Aurors - AURORS - are failing to find objects imbued with dark magic. Anything can be cursed, and honestly, if you want someone to suffer, it makes so much more sense to curse something they would use daily without much thought than some elaborate, exotic dagger or torture device. But then, 'the cursed hairbrush' does not really strike fear into the hearts of anyone.

A lot of magic really boils down to the aesthetic™. Sure, we've got the wizarding wireless and magically connected mirrors and the ability to send instantaneous magical messages, but we rely on owls. Why? Aesthetic™. I appreciate the dramatic as much as the next wizard, perhaps more, which is why I understand the allure of the dark, cursed objects of torture. I am also, however, practical and efficient, which is why I absolutely WOULD curse a hairbrush.

Incidentally, my hairbrush is NOT cursed or charmed. This luxurious mane is au naturale.

Where was I? Oh, yes. Ministry officials in my home.

Weasley himself wandered around my home with a stunned look on his face, as if he hadn't possibly imagined how the better half lives. Then he bumped into Narcissa's favorite Ming vase and broke it. Magic repaired it to an extent, but she's still furious about it. I don't like to be around my wife when she's furious. It's not a safe place to be.

So when I slipped the diary into the youngest Weasley's dumpy little cauldron it was not about trying to kill an 11 year old girl - although to be fair they have so many children, I'm not sure they'd notice if one bit the dust - it was more about getting rid of a dark magical object before someone eventually figured out I had it. I have been so unfairly maligned and persecuted since the Dark Lord's death. Do you have any idea how much time and how many Galleons I've had to spend to cover up my crimes? Do you?

In any case, I did not know that the diary would open Slytherin's mythical Chamber of Secrets or release a beast into the school. It's exceptionally offensive that that crackpot headmaster would think I would risk my heir's life that way, especially after I invested all of those Galleons into new brooms for the entire Slytherin team.

I just wanted to get rid of a dark object that was technically illegal to possess before anyone wised up, and hopefully discredit Arthur Weasley at the same time, thus cutting back on his regular forays into my home to gawk at my wealth and good taste.

I'm still not entirely sure how it all went tits up, but I blame that scar-faced Potter brat. Oh don't get me wrong - I am glad there's no longer a giant fucking snake slithering through the school. I'm glad it's dead. I am supremely upset that a 12 year old was apparently required to save the day because the faculty was too inept to do it or to, you know, call in Aurors to take down the beast.

I'd hoped once it came out that Weasley's daughter was possessed by a dark object that he'd be discredited in some way, but no. Somehow that all became MY fault, and I was forced to resign from the Board of Governors.

On top of that, I lost my servant. Okay, to be fair, Dobby was quite possibly the most inept servant I've ever seen. Narcissa has repeatedly commented that we should have taken on the Black family's practise of mounting the heads of our dead house elves on the wall, as it inspires the right sort of attitude and work ethic in one's servants.

Most of the time my beautiful wife is the absolute pinnacle of perfection and is the sort of pureblood wife any dark wizard would want. And then there are times like that when I am reminded that she is indeed Bellatrix Lestrange's baby sister.

But I digress. Dobby was a terrible servant as he had clearly figured out some sort of loophole in elf magic that helped him circumvent direct orders. Although, to be fair, I did not think I had to say, "DO NOT LET HARRY POTTER KNOW ABOUT THIS."

Draco deserves some of the blame as well. I am a good father, I really am. But even I have my limits. I can only listen to so much whinging about Harry bloody Potter before I snap, and during the summer before my son's second year at Hogwarts, I did indeed tell him, "Merlin's saggy left testicle, son! Shut up about Harry Potter!"

So apparently he whinged incessantly to the only being in the house who would listen to him: Dobby.

I think Dobby was possibly addled a bit. Note to self: stop making the elves bash their heads into the wall when they fail to follow your orders. It apparently causes brain damage. Who knew?

Unceremoniously forced from the Board of Governors and down one house elf, I tried my best to convince Narcissa to transfer Draco to Durmstrang. Hell, even Beauxbatons would be better. Sadly, my pleas fell on deaf ears. I retreated to my study and spent most of my son's third year at Hogwarts scheming, plotting, and blackmailing - my favorite pastimes!

~oOo~

The following year, the Minister for Magic, in his esteemed wisdom, decided it would be appropriate for Dementors - those hideous beings that suck the souls right out of the body - to guard a school filled with children.

I mean, really, what could possibly go wrong?

I will admit that I may have played a small role in that whole soul-sucking-beast-thing. It's not like the Minister was bright enough to come up with that on his own. It was absolutely overkill, but it served its purpose to terrify the masses. To be rather honest, I am surprised parents did not pull their children from the school and tutor them at home. I suppose that says a lot about how lazy wizarding parents are. And no, I did not pull my son and heir from the school either. I don't have time to tutor Draco. I have evil plans and schemes and blackmail to carry out! Pay attention!

Ostensibly the dementors were there to keep escaped murderer Sirius Black from entering the school. That anyone thought Sirius Black was a murderer is just proof of how stupid the general public really is. I mean, I made it through the ENTIRE first war, serving under the Dark Lord, without anyone in any position of power figuring out that gee, Death Eaters are marked with the morsmordre, and if you don't have one, you aren't a REAL Death Eater. Accept no imitations, I say.

The whole point of the mark though is that it operates as a method of communication - the Dark Lord could summon his followers and they could use the mark to portkey directly to him. If our esteemed leader had a spy in Sirius Black, he of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, you can be damned sure the Dark Lord would have marked him.

NO ONE LOOKED AT HIS ARM.

They arrested him and flung him into Azkaban without a trial or anything. I thought it the height of absurdity at the time, but as I was enduring my own trial, I wasn't exactly in a position to say, "Um, excuse me, I know all of the Inner Circle, and he's not in it. He's my wife's cousin for fuck's sake. I'd know if he was a Death Eater."

But, you know, if Sirius died in prison - which was what the Wizengamot intended - Draco would be left as the only heir to the Black family, since everyone else had been disowned. Hell, Sirius himself was disowned, but his idiotic younger brother, acting then as head of the family, reinstated him before he died. Ah Regulus...he had so much potential, all derailed due to an unnatural - and some would say unseemly - attachment to a house elf. No, I'm not trying to cast aspersions on the dead. I will just say that there were rumors about Regulus and that elf. That is all. You can draw your own conclusions.

The Malfoys are an ancient family with vast wealth, but it doesn't hurt to inherit more. Bribing politicians can get costly, after all. So, fine, I had a vested interest in keeping quiet about Sirius Black's innocence.

Back to Sirius and his escape from Azkaban. I knew, of course, in my son's third year that there was no real threat from Sirius Black. If he was trying to get into the school, it was surely to get to Harry Potter. It's not like it was a secret that he was the Potter brat's godfather. The dementors were just there to make Dumbledore look bad. Kick me off the Board of Governors, will you? Have some dementors, motherfucker.

I knew, of course, that the real culprit, the traitor who betrayed the light and led to the death of Potter's parents was their friend, Peter Pettigrew. What a pathetic, sniveling, waste of a wizard he was. I cannot for the life of me fathom what Potter, Black, and that miscreant werewolf friend of theirs ever saw in him.

His whole entreaty to the Dark Lord was disgusting. "My L-l-lord, I live to serve you. I've been so mistreated, so ignored."

Excuse me while I roll my eyes. No wonder the Dark Lord curses people. If I had to listen to Pettigrew all the time, I'd want to kill someone too.

He went on and on about how hard his life was, as if anyone cared. Of course Dumbledore doesn't appreciate you or value you as a member of his precious Order, you blithering, witless, rat-faced cocksplat. Dumbledore doesn't give a shite about anyone unless they can do something for him.

To be quite honest, I rather respect that in a wizard. It is, after all, not THAT dissimilar to my own life philosophy. Unfortunately, Dumbledore only values wizards and witches who fit into his narrow view of life, and that list is regrettably small. The Malfoys, of course, are nowhere near it. My father, Abraxas, was one of the Dark Lord's early followers after all.

Pettigrew's sole worth to the Dark Lord was that he was friendly with the Potters, and even then, had they not made him Secret Keeper, I've no doubt the Dark Lord would have tortured and killed him at some point, just because he was tired of Peter's incessant sniveling and groveling.

I'm not entirely sure what happened the night the Potters died, but no one has seen hide nor hair of rat-boy since that night. I don't know if Black murdered him, or hell, I wouldn't put it past Dumbledore to knock a pawn off the chess board when he had no more use for it. Either way, Pettigrew is DEFINITELY dead. Good riddance, I say.