September 1939

My dear Abraxas,

This letter must be reaching you during your first weeks of your fifth year. A difficult year lies ahead with the OWLs, but nonetheless, from you I expect only excellency. In fact, I expect no less than the results I had, which I have attached on the back of this letter. There are great expectations from you, Abraxas, which your mother holds as well, even though she does not want to burden you more than she thinks you already are.

But pressure makes diamonds, dear boy, and I won't allow you to remain coal for long.

I have thought about our conversation when you last came to our house. You wish you were my son, but if you were, you would have lost many a chance to become the man I am sure you will turn into. Also, I believe that you would have lost your mind living with Joachim and one of you would have surely killed the other. You know we Malfoys do not retort to such brutality and do not make a mockery of ourselves by turning against one another so publicly - perhaps it was divine providence that you were born of my sister.

Now, you may not agree with Headmaster Dippet and find him weak-willed and a bit dim, but those that truly want to change the world do not become Headmasters, even of a school like Hogwarts. They hold no power in the long run. You would have found Beauxbatons boring and dull - as I told you when we talked those weeks ago, stop thinking about chasing skirts and embarrassing yourself. Hogwarts has some of the greatest minds educating you, right now, so I would advise you to charm your wand to your hand, your eyes to books, and your ears to your professors' lips.

Write to me without delay and tell me what you make of my words.

Always with respect,

Lucretia Malfoy

—

My cherished aunt,

I read your letter with my head bowed. I agree that this year is crucial for my future, and will dedicate myself to surpassing the OWLs you have achieved.

I disagree, however, with your note. You have left of your own will to travel, to live in France, to love and marry who you wanted. You are an example to follow, an example which I will strive to follow. You lived life as it was meant to be lived, whereas mother lives under the bootheel of father, and before that, of grandfather. I loved her as much as I could as a child, but recently my eyes have opened like a bird's and I can clearly see around myself.

You do not know half the things father subjects us to, especially mother. I cannot even find myself writing them on parchment.

I find no man of good standing and good repute to act like he does. Is he a Malfoy? No. He is a Rowle. Is he a man? No, he is a dog. Wizards like him blemish our good name.

I am neither a dog nor a Rowle. I am a Malfoy like yourself and mother.

Tell me then, why was I born as his son?

Forever your mentee,

Abraxas

—

My dear,

You are an idiot and a fool.

However, I know from my own Thaddeus that this comes with your young age, so I shall not hold it against you.

Soon enough however, you will need to stop being a boy and start acting like a man.

You are too young to realise many things, but when you love someone, you must overlook the parts of them that you do not like. Perhaps one day you shall find a love like that. Until then, overlook your mother's weaknesses.

There is reason the name Malfoy is still respected in Britain, and it's not because of your grandfather, because not many people hold my father in high praises, and it's certainly not because of your father. In times of great difficulty for the British wizarding economy, she has contributed to many spaces that ensured wizards would remember the Malfoy name with respect.

Abraxas. Read my words carefully and then read them again. If we were all like you, we would all end up in a state of constant battling and war, and would know no peace on this earth. This is why we have those like your mother among us and that is why we must love them more than we love ourselves, because those like Claudia remind us of the beauty of this world. They are rare and must be cherished, however those with hearts of dogs unfortunately are unable to see that, and that cannot be changed.

In earlier days, before your birth, I have tried love potions to calm the dog's heart, and you may be tempted to, in hopes a dog will learn to love that who I (and you, lest you wish to turn like a dog as well!) cherish. I advise you before you learn how to make them - do not.

At times, our good name comes accursed with certain expectations which cannot be shaken off. If you, with your temper, were born as my brother instead of Claudia, I am certain you would have hated me and cursed me - your mother, however, has shielded and allowed me to become the woman I am today, the witch you know and address as a mentor. She will shield you as well, and allow you to become whatever kind of man you wish to be.

Love her.

Your aunt,

Lucretia Malfoy

22nd of December 1940

Uncle Joachim,

I will not bother you with well-wishes as neither of us care for them.

Do ensure you respond, as I need your advice in great urgency. You must have already heard from either mother or Lucretia about the disappearance of my father.

It is a pity that such a man has simply gone and evaporated after a night of drinking. Like many other nights of drinking until he blacks out and barely finds his way home or to his own bedroom. But if he can barely find his way home in the summer, I expect it may be even harder in the winter.

Do not worry from over there in France. I understand these may be quite difficult times. Mother is distraught, and I wonder if the presence of Lucretia and yourself would help cheer her up a bit. After all, a man is needed in the house, at least until they hopefully find father.

I have announced his disappearance in the Daily Prophet, perhaps someone has seen him. I have announced the Rowle family as well.

There is not much more I can think of doing to ease mother's worries.

Your (favourite) nephew,

Abraxas Malfoy

—

Dear Abraxas,

Just because you are my only nephew does not mean you are my favourite. On the contrary, I hold many things against you, starting with your mere existence as a product of the union between your mother and father.

But for this news, I love you more than my own son and wish indeed, that Thaddeus was more like you.

I will travel with Lucretia to Wiltshire under some stupid pretense that requires my immediate presence. Burn this letter after you read it. I have never written to you. Do not dare travel back to Hogwarts until I see you.

Your mother will calm down, it is a woman's nature to decry even her executioner. Claudia is of another cut than yourself and Lucretia, she's a better woman than us all combined. When she cries, she cries with our tears, all of us, even yours.

I have attached the ingredients of a quick potion to calm her wits.

Your only uncle,

Joachim M.

March 1953

My darling mother,

There is only one month until my child is born, and I find my hands trembling each time I see Aurora's belly. I wish it were of happiness. I shiver like an old man, but I do not shiver because of excitement, but fear. I am ready to pretend to Aurora that I am happy and agreeable, pose into a picture of perfect fatherhood that she deserves for our child, but I am extremely worried.

One thought plagues me, from the moment I open my eyes in the morning until I close them to sleep, only to then torment me in my sleep.

What if I turn like father?

Your son,

Abraxas

August 1954

Dear mother,

I hope my letter finds you in as much good health as my last. I am well, as well, thank Merlin. Lucius is very well, and I know you don't ask about him, but Abraxas is as well. He still has his anxieties that he hides from me, and I wish I knew why. Ever since Lucius was born, he has been having solitary phases, where he throws himself in the solitude of his study from morning to dusk. The nature of men is strange at times.

You know that I still cannot find myself writing to father, when his letters come back with venom against my husband. I love him still, so do send him my kisses and good wishes.

I have been feeling a certain weakness recently, but I think that is normal with motherhood. Lucius certainly keeps me busy at all hours in the morning at night and gives me no time to myself!

I can hear him rustling right now, in fact. Tell me when you are free to visit by sending a reply with our owl, I cannot wait to see you holding your grandson.

Your daughter,

Aurora

September 1966

Dear Lucius,

Of course you have been sorted into Slytherin, I am not surprised in the least. You are my son and a Malfoy.

Ensure you wear your name and House proudly, both in Hogwarts and beyond, and do not dare do anything that would bring shame on either. Remember what your mere presence represents, son, and don't let me down. Write to me of any problems, however I expect letters detailing your successes to arrive in a greater frequency than letters detailing trifling matters.

Always your father,

Abraxas Malfoy

PS. I have relayed your letter to your mother, and she will be sending a second owl carrying her own message and a package of sweets. Try your utmost not to burden her, as you very well know her state.

June 1968

Cygnus,

Your letter finds me at my lowest unfortunately, and it is not to many that I feel free to admit this.

I thank you for your letter and the grace you have shown in this time of need. I expected nothing less from Walburga, of course, but it is with those like you that the Black family can still walk with their heads held up high.

You knew Aurora well, and can understand how distraught I am of this eternal separation. It pains me to think of her as no more to no end. From this point onwards, I do not know what lies in front of me apart from eternal unhappiness. What my son has lost is irreplaceable.

As for myself, since you asked, now that the term has ended I have taken Lucius with me to France, as my mother has unfortunately taken ill in this already darkest of times.

Your friend,

Abraxas Malfoy

August 1968

My dear Abraxas,

I am sorry to now hear about the passing of your mother. There is nothing more frightful than losing two witches as Aurora and Claudia in such quick succession. I am honoured to have known them both.

The wizarding world is going to be a much bleaker place without them.

If there is anything I can do, write to me.

Your friend,

Cygnus Black

—

Lucretia and Joachim,

I have left Lucius in your care for the foreseeable. I cannot bear to look at any of you. I have lost everything. I have first lost my wife, my sweet and lovely Aurora, but now, I have to resign myself to the fact that my mother is no longer.

As my mother's sole heir, I know she left no will. She never wanted to write one. She thought herself immortal, my stupid, stupid, adorable mother. Take whatever you see fit of hers and let this letter act as conduit for that. Leave me some of her writings and poetry to soothe this now empty shell, but everything else you want of hers is yours.

I do not know how to bear this. These blows have pierced my soul and shredded it. For the past few weeks, while she has been in the hospital, I have been hearing her voice, I have been seeing her - both mother and Aurora, talking, whispering to each other, just out of my sight, out of my ability to hear what they were speaking about.

I know I will soon resign myself to their deaths. I have to, for Lucius's sake, but I need to find how first. I write this letter in a daze - you will have to accept any mistakes in my writing.

Yours,

Abraxas Malfoy

February 1972

My good friend Bogdan,

It is with you alone that I permit myself to pour my sorrows. If you will permit me the indecency, and I know you will, because I told you this before, your friendship is perhaps the one good thing to emerge from the death of my wife. I will repeat myself until you will accept it as the truth.

I thank you again for your invitation on your travels, however I will kindly refuse once again. Lucius is going to finish his education at Hogwarts and slowly make his own way as a wizard. I must be there, alongside him, to ensure the start of his road is paved with successes. I worry the void left by his mother is being filled with thoughts of an overambitious nature that is above him and that he cannot fully yet comprehend. But alas, he is my son and I will correct his mistakes.

I will be gone soon, I feel the old age in my bones. And that will leave him as the only Malfoy left in Britain. I must ensure he is ready.

Your friend and confidant,

Abraxas Malfoy

—

My dear friend, firstly, and kind patron, secondly!

Winter is getting to you, sir! Brush the snow from your ribs and eyebrows and shake the cold away with me in Turkey, and you shall see how youth will return to you, alongside the witches and wizards I have found and who have taught me their way of living.

My letter is short this time, because parchment is scarce on this small island I am on right now. But I would not have it any other way, as you very well know. Life is meant to be lived, my good friend, lived happily, and for all you have done, your luck will soon turn.

Always at your service,

Bogdan Aladar

September 1992

Claudia,

There has never been a single doubt that you would be sorted into Slytherin, my child. Like myself, like the grandmother whose name you bear and that you regretfully never met.

I have poured through your letter the moment it arrived, in anticipation of your Sorting, but I was disappointed to find that you have written and sent paragraph after paragraph right after the Welcome Feast, instead of enjoying your first day in your new school.

That is my mistake, perhaps, and I shall take accountability for that. I will now ask you to write to me less and less as the year goes. Enjoy your new life, my girl.

Your loving father,

Abraxas

November 1993

Lucius,

My son and heir. By the time you read this letter I will be dead. Today is the 10th of November, 1993. I would give myself a month more before I die and you find this letter. I have advised Margot that I have some important documents stashed that you need to look at.

As I sit here, thinking about what to write to you, I find my mind wandering, and not focusing on what I am supposed to write.

I am not sure you can yet grasp the meaning of this parting. I am not sure what will happen with you. In this hour so close to my death, I know nothing about you, absolutely nothing. I should have known to guide you better before my death.

There are many things about yourself that I wish I could have told you, but every time I looked into your eyes, I found myself unable to voice them to you. That was, perhaps, my greatest weakness and mistake.

Despite all the grievances I know you have wished for more than thirty years to air to me, in spite of it all, you have grown into a fine wizard.

I leave you with these final words.

Do not let the memory of your mother from within you disappear. You will never find greater love than the love she had for you.

Whenever you are doubting yourself, think about what it means to be a Malfoy.

Your father, forever and always,

Abraxas

December 1993

Claudia,

I wanted a daughter as a final whim in this life of mine, and I had you.

I was never sure, however, what to do with you. I was not made to be a father of children, I know that. In spite of my best intentions, I have been deeply unsuccessful in being a good father to you, and it is my greatest fear that one day you will wake up and realise this.

I gave you no explanation on what will happen to you once I am no more. When I looked in your eyes, I saw my own, and thought that was enough for you to understand, but as I sit here looking at the date of this letter, I realise that you are too young to grasp such things.

Keep this letter close to you at all times, and allow me to walk alongside you through it.

You may be a Gregorovitch in papers. In life, you have always been and will be a Malfoy and soul from my soul.

Your adoring father,

Abraxas

"Are you sure you are ready to go back to Hogwarts, my darling?"

Margarita leaned in, and pressed her chin on top of her daughter's head, watching the both of them in the bathroom mirror. She pressed a kiss atop her head, watching her closely for the first time since her and Draco returned from their school for two days for Abraxas's funeral. Her head moved together with Claudia's as the young girl nodded.

"If you want to give up on Hogwarts…" Margarita murmured softly, straightening her back as she softly combed her daughter's hair with her fingers. "I won't stop you. Grandpa Miki retired, and you know he wouldn't have taught you anyway, but we can find you a good mentor to finish your magical education. We'll travel the world, or settle wherever you want. Germany, Netherlands, Belgium, France… even Bulgaria. It will let you continue your painting classes more freely, as well, you know your father-"

"I don't look a lot like dad." she interrupted, out of a sudden.

"Hm? Sure you do, dove." Margarita furrowed her brows, catching her daughter's hair in her hands. "You have his eyes, your skin is white as any other Malfoy's, you know you're the only one from my side to get sunburns when we go back to Bulgaria. You have his awful humour, and you dance just as well as he used to. Now… no woman on my side of the family has had anything but dark hair until the day of their death, so you will have to live with that… but alas."

Claudia shook her shoulders, still transfixed with the image of herself in the bathroom mirror. Unsure what else to do, Margarita pulled her hair back, grasping as much as she could in her hands. She opened one of the taps, and wet her hair, until it started to sit in place as she meant it to.

"Like this? Like Abraxas wore his hair?" she asked, keeping her hair flat against her scalp with her palms. "Like Draco's?"

Margarita looked down at her daughter, and leaned down to pres her cheek against hers, looking at her reaction. Her daughter was transfixed, looking at herself in the mirror with her father's eyes. Without a word more, Margarita grabbed a pair of scissors, and slowly started cutting her daughter's hair, locks falling in her lap and at the sides of her Hogwarts robe.

"Did you use to cut dad's hair?"

"Merlin, no." Margarita laughed. "Your father would never have allowed me to. Would have thought this beneath his station, which in a way… well, my love, it is, for us. I used to cut your uncle Dadan's hair about twenty years back. It was normal, among some younger Muggles at the time to cut or style each other's hair, and I was hanging around Dadi's Muggle circles."

Claudia nodded, and thought back on her Muggle uncle Dadan. How in spite of her being a witch and him being non-magical, they always seemed so… close, in spite of their difference in status. How when they went to his wedding, her mother's first words to him were 'Oh, what a beautiful groom we have, you're so handsome it's as if I've birthed you myself!', how they laughed together and embraced tightly.

Her memories changed from that trip to Bulgaria back to England, back to Hogwarts, back to her own cousin, Draco. How he ignored her for the first year and a half they had spent together at Hogwarts, even when there was a Basilisk running around last year, and how uncaring he was about her. How he didn't even look at her when that awful Pansy Parkinson poked fun at her surname, until an older student pointed out who Mykew Gregorovitch was and that Pansy should 'shut her trap'.

They used to be close - Claudia knew when they were young, before Draco went in his first year at Hogwarts, they were somewhat close. They'd talk when he would come to their house. She had wanted to ask her father once why Draco used to be so close, but wanted nothing to do with her once he got into Hogwarts, and why he was adamant they had to pretend not to really know each other.

A year ago, she proposed to her father that she would undertake the painting of his portrait. A full-body portrait, to which Abraxas approved, and as such, the unlikely pair, the aging, solitary father of a black-haired daughter, and the silent, meek daughter of Abraxas Malfoy, found themselves spending their evenings together in one of the rooms in the manor. Her, with her easel and paintbrush, him, sitting on a chair in a pair of his finest velvet robes, cane posed in one hand, his other hand lounging across one of the armrests. For hours, they would sit facing each other, looking at one another with great interest, their silence broken by the sound of brushes and pencils.

In rare, very rare moments, they would speak - their conversations reserved solely for the matter at hand, such as when Claudia stepped forth towards him, and looked at a spot on his face with great interest, furrowing her small dark eyebrows, which amused him greatly, and his mask of stoicism fell as he cracked a smile.

"What feature of this old, wrinkled face are you struggling with, dove?"

"Your eyes."

"They are the same as yours, my girl."

She did have his eyes. And now, as her mother was putting pomade in her hair and removed the loose strands from her robe and shoes with a flick of her wand, she had his hair as well. And according to her mother, as her long, warm fingers pressed on her cheeks, in a few years, when she'd lose the baby fat, they'd be able to tell whether she has the cheekbones and facial structure of either herself or Abraxas.

Later on, when cousin Draco and uncle Lucius came later, for Draco and herself to Floo back to Hogwarts, he looked at her with a shocked face. In fact, the both of them did, but Claudia did not raise her eyes to meet her uncle Lucius's.

"You changed your hair." he said.

"I did." she responded.

"I think it looks presentable enough." Lucius interjected, making Claudia raise her eyes to meet his. As he spoke next, his words came out slowly, as if he was struggling to come up with something that was not mean-spirited. "Considering the circumstances. After all… you are half of a Malfoy."

"Thank you, uncle."

Lucius nodded curtly, motioning for Draco towards the Floo Powder and saluting his son and 'niece' as they left back to Hogwarts, before turning towards Margarita, looking for an explanation.

"She wanted to look like Abraxas."

"I suppose soon Claudia may want to be addressed as a Malfoy as well?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"I fear that out of love for him, she may."

"If she does, I will accept on the sole account that you revert back to your maiden name, and finally stop tarnishing our good reputation by having our good wizarding name be one degree removed from a Muggle."

Lucius followed Margarita towards Abraxas's study, and accepted a ring of keys she handed him as she indeed confirmed that if one of them will turn into a Malfoy, the other would become a Gregorovitch. Lighter from having fulfilled Abraxas's last wish, the widow poured two drinks, and took one of the glasses, lightly sipping on it as she watched Lucius remove the keys from the ring.

"Out of love for my father…" he chuckled bitterly, putting the keys onto a table in a random order, tapping his wand against each as they started to float, one by one, and go in their respective locks, all of them slowly turning and opening a variety of drawers. "Say Margot, then, have you ever found out if you loved him, then? I remember our conversation still, from those many, many years ago."

"You remember that night well, then?" she grinned, raising an eyebrow. "I wonder…a funny thing, love is… I must have." she stated, after having pondered his question for a good minute.

"Even if you didn't- well, I doubt whether my father was capable of much love. My mother, sure, but anyone else…Hm." Lucius opened one of the drawers until it was fully out of the cupboard, furrowing his brows as he pulled out stacks and stacks of letters in opened envelopes, dating from as far back as the early 1930s. "Letters. Stacks and stacks… from aunt Lucretia, from other Malfoys, from… from my grandmother, from-..."

His voice trembled as he looked through the stack, and realised what some of the correspondences entailed. From the mid 1940s, more and more letters were signed in a beautiful, flowery handwriting that Lucius could still remember as clearly as when he was a child, sitting with his chin pressed against the writing desk of Aurora Malfoy.

There were letters from his mother. His father had kept every single letter from his mother. He decided not to open them, not now, not with Margot, but the realisation made him take a swig of alcohol from the glass he had been offered, before a thought arose in his head.

Stacked at the entrance of the drawer, were three unopened letters. One, for him, another for Claudia, and another for Margot, all dated close to his date of death.

"I thought I've just dealt with his will." Lucius grumbled, before handing Margot's letter to her.

Whenever Margarita opened a letter, she always looked at the signature - Abraxas had a certain style with them that would tell her his mood better than he could write in paragraph after paragraph. Her fingers trembled as she pulled at the parchment to reveal the signature, one she had never seen him sign in a letter to her before, one that made her hands tremble in such a manner that she could barely read the rest of the letter.

Eternally with reverence and forever captivated by your eyes,

Abraxas