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The enchanted journal of Lucius Malfoy.

Goodness, whatever will they dream up next?
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Sep. 28th, 2005 @ 01:12 am I'm too young to feel so old...
Current Mood: discontentdiscontent
Crouch Junior just called me 'sir'. Twice. Very polite of him, but I'm, what, seven years his elder?

So many of us are marrying, so full of hope, and yet... I'm twenty-five, and yet tonight I feel the weight of history.

I can't sleep, though work has exhausted me. I shall read some Cicero, and wait for the dawn.
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Decisions
Sep. 27th, 2005 @ 05:49 am Lucius's Journal (private)
Current Mood: disappointeddisappointed
Good grief. How utterly dim can you get?

I very clearly did not mention Sirius's name in any way on the whisky label. Damn it all, Potter and the rest were supposed to suspect that wretch Pettigrew. Perhaps they share my opinion of him, and can't believe that he'd come up with anything so creative.

Ah well. Easy come, easy go, as the inventor of the aphrodisiac laxative said.

To be honest, if I'd known that it would arrive on the day that his engagement was to be announced, I shouldn't have sent it. Fun's fun, but spoiling what should be an entirely joyful day isn't my style. It was a jeu d'esprit, not an assassination attempt.

Time to play with the Muggle again. He may end up quite an acceptable houseboy, and he's certainly easier on the eyes than Dobby. Not to mention the blowjobs, either.
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Cheerful
Sep. 26th, 2005 @ 03:09 am Lucius's Journal (private)
Current Mood: mischievousmischievous
Ye gods, what a bitch Lily Evans has turned into. Poor Potter. I could almost feel sorry for him.

Ah, it sounds like Finn's regained consciousness again. He does moan so charmingly.

All this talk of Engorgement Charms has put a very naughty idea into my head.
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Cheerful
Sep. 25th, 2005 @ 07:35 pm Lucius's Journal (private)
Current Mood: deviousdevious
There's nothing quite so ironic as being encouraged by someone to develop skills that will in future contribute to their defeat.

I've always been a fairly good Occlumens. Father saw to that, in the beginning; he wasn't going to have me blab Malfoy secrets by accident. Now I'm good enough that I can keep my mind shielded as a matter of habit, rather than of intention. It does leave the eyes so cold-looking, though, which is a pity. Not that I should concern myself with vanity.

The new book goes one step further, though. If I keep at the exercises long enough, I'll be able to let my mind lie for me entirely plausibly, entirely effortlessly.

Yes, O Dark One. An entirely loyal servant; don't you see? My mind is open to you as a book.

Let his hubris defeat him.
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Decisions
Sep. 24th, 2005 @ 12:04 am Lucius's Journal (private)
Current Mood: restlessrestless
I must remember to ask Bellatrix. It's hardly something to ask Voldemort; in fact, I doubt he concerns himself with such things. If Cissy knows, it will be because Bellatrix has told her. Bellatrix knows her better than I do, too.

I should hate to have to lie to Cissy if it's unnecessary to do so. When we are man and wife it isn't going to be something (the physical evidence, at least) that I can conceal from her. If Bellatrix tells me that Narcissa knows of such things, then my path is easy. Easier, at least. If not, I shall have to come up with some plausible explanation. Perhaps I could simply say that it's just a schoolboy secret society tattoo, which isn't so far from the truth, considering the mentalities of the majority of those who have it.

Damn the man, except that he's damned already. Why couldn't he have thought of something more discreet? It's tantamount to having "Yes, I am a conspirator" blazed across one's forehead.

My son shall never wear it, I swear. If I work effectively, the question may not ever arise. Voldemort was a fool to bless my marriage; doesn't he know that, to a man of any soul, loyalty to one's son must erase any other? Though from what I know of his history, I can't believe that he has any trace of familial sentiment. He loves only himself.

And yet, and yet.

It's late. I shall write and send that owl forthwith.
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Sep. 22nd, 2005 @ 11:44 am Lucius's Journal (private)
Current Mood: scaredscared
Oh gods, I don't know whether I can go through with it.

I have to. It's completely unfair to her, but I have to. So many reasons, all bad. All necessary.

Firstly, and probably least importantly so far as Cissy is concerned, I have to have an heir. Things are going to get very much worse before there's even a chance of them getting better, and I'll be in the thick of it all. There has to be someone to carry on. Not just the name, though that's important, but the principles. It's got to be a boy, too; no matter how many Californian Muggle women burn their bras, we do not take women seriously yet. It'll happen, but perhaps not in my generation, and I can't count on it happening in the next. Therefore, a son. I have the relevant potion.

So why not choose another woman? It's not as though I couldn't have the pick of them — or so I've been told; I wouldn't know. There come the second and third reasons.

The Black name. Ruinously decayed as they are, the name counts. The second reason. A Black trumps a Malfoy in this game, but I have money, power, and, what's more important to them, no whiff of scandal. They'll never admit it, but they're lucky to have me. Sirius is gone, though whether to the bad or the good I don't know, but he's disowned. I doubt Regulus would know what to do with a woman. So that's the male line disposed of.

Bella. Ah, Bella. Lovely, but poisonous, and far, far too clever. And Voldemort's favourite girlie. That's the third reason. What he won't tell me, he may tell her. But she's to be handled only with long tongs. Namely, by Narcissa.

Andromeda? No. Intelligent where Bella is clever... and, besides, she's taken up with Tonks. I don't know if they're even married.

Which leaves sweet, sexy (I admit it), pretty Cissy.

If nothing else, I'm getting her away from the old bitch. That's surely something to be grateful for.

I'll do as well as I can for her. I'll try to love her. And because of what I shall do, because of what I must do, she will hate me.
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Decisions