A/N As this is an internal monologue rather than a story; it is really intended to flow as one continuous piece. However due to the format and conventions of FF.net it has had to be split up. Therefore it will be finished eventually, and I hope that the way this fic has been split up does not spoil it.

ANCHOVY OF DOOM - Chapter 1 has been extended since your (very nice) review, as I got a bit confused over how to edit it once it ad been uploaded. It would be best to read it again before reading this one or else C2 won't make sense:)

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My memory of the reception after the burial is one of the most precious memories I hold. I suddenly saw him across the room, looking straight at me. At that point my knees nearly gave way and I was overtaken by a desire stronger than anything I had known before. My grandmother was holding my arm in a vice-like grip, and I struggled and bit like a snake caught in the jaws of a mongoose. He was coming towards me, taking great long strides as people parted to let him through. I slipped my grandmother's clutches and shot across the room, knocking a platter off the table as I went. I flew straight into his arms, but I didn't knock him backwards. He picked me up easily and held me firm and strong. I knew then that I had finally come home. He whispered my name over and over again, telling me that he was my Father and that he had come to take me home. Lucius Malfoy had come to claim his little girl, and this time he would not be denied.

He took me home straight away, shielding me from the prying eyes of relations and acquaintances. When I arrived at the manor house I was speechless at the sheer scale and splendour of the house and gardens. They enticed me to explore them, but I refused to leave my Father's side. That first night we had to sleep fully clothed on the chair because I wouldn't let go of him.

Ever since that first moment I have always enjoyed a special close bond with my father. Never have I known of a love between father and daughter to be so precious. Throughout my life we have been inseparable. When I was little he would sit by my bed at night and tell me stories, usually of times when he and my mother were together. I felt so safe and peaceful whilst he was there by my bedside, stroking my hair until I fell asleep

I loathed to be parted from him. If he ever had important visitors, I would wait patiently yet miserably in my room until I heard the visitor leave, then I'd rush joyously down the stairs and snuggle up close to him on the chair in front of the fireplace. When my Father had his arms around me and we were sat alone together in front of the roaring fire that bathed us in its warmth; I could never feel more secure. It was hard to imagine ever feeling frightened or confused in his presence. My father was stable, constant, always there.

One time I remember, not long after I moved to the manor, my father had taken me to Diagon Alley for the first time. I stuck close to him as always but somehow we got separated. Living in the tiny village had not prepared me for the crowds, and without my Father to protect me I panicked and became hysterical. My hands found their way into my hair and were tugging at chunks of it as I hitched in great breaths and screamed at the top of my lungs. Passers-by looked on in horror at the little girl stood in the middle of the alley, long, bloodcurdling screams racking her tiny body. Next thing I knew I was being pulled back into my father's embrace and my screaming stopped instantly. I clung to him and buried my face in the folds of his robes. There was so much of him to cling on to. The small, insignificant little people scurried out of his way as he strode down the street with his daughter in his arms and his thick heavy cloak billowing dramatically behind him.

His huge bulk is so reassuring - rarely have I seen a man so big and so strong. He fills any room he enters with his size and his sheer presence. All other people seem to dwindle and are dwarfed by my father's presence. You can tell straight away that he is a Malfoy. A man with such force, both in strength and personality, could only be Lucius Malfoy. My Father. I picked up straight away how powerful he is. People would cower before him; they would bend over backwards to please him. Even members of other rich wizarding families would shrink before him, bowing to his command. My Father explained to me that we were the oldest and most prestigious family in wizarding Britain. We can trace our lineage back over centuries. The Malfoys are highly regarded members of the aristocracy, noted for our proud and noble history. Today our status is more elevated than ever before. Under Lord Voldemort, my father's stature grew, and after his master's fall he turned the tables and pleaded innocence, claiming he was the victim of an Imperious curse. Many using that excuse were dismissed, but my father was intelligent. He was one of the first to come back to the good side, sensing that the balance of power had shifted. He used his position and influence this time on the Ministry, who were easily cowed by his forceful presence. He holds Cornelius Fudge and his ministers in the palm of his hand. He has played tactical games and used subtle manipulation to make it impossible for Fudge and his associates to manoeuvre. The Ministry of Magic relies heavily on the Malfoy's charitable donations and other sly backhanders, and my Father is so formidable that no one, not even the leader of the country dares defy him. Our position is secure. We can only get stronger.

Due to our history, the purity of our blood and the strength of our magic and prestige, the Malfoys are a proud family. My Father has passed that pride on to me. He has taught me to believe in myself, and to believe that I am better than others. He has instilled in me what it means to be a Malfoy. That we are the most powerful of wizards, the purest of families. He prepared me for Hogwarts, for my role there.