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Diary of a Stalker

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6:30 a.m.
Lucius is still asleep.
He came home late last night, but he still took the time to put on his moisturizing gloves.
I run to the bathroom. Have to be ready by the time he wakes up.
Today is the day that I'll catch him.


7:30 a.m.
Lucius is finally waking up.
I tell him good-morning, but he takes his time removing the cucumber slices from his eyes before greeting me.

"Good Morning, my love!" he says.

But what does he mean by it? What does he mean?

He looks suspiciously happy while undoing his braids.


7:35 a.m.
He already took off the top of his black silk pyjamas.
I watch intently while he makes his way to the bathroom, gathering the trillion cleansing products he uses.
He seems to only be going to take a quick shower. That gives me about three hours to fine-comb search his things.


7:37 a.m.
The bathroom door clicks and I hear the sound of water running.
I make a move towards his robes.

"Narcissa, dear!"

He's coming!

I dive for the bed, but fail, nearly knocking myself out, hitting the bedside table.
I drag myself to the bed, just in time to see him appear at the threshold.
Stay cool, Narcissa. Stay cool.

"Can't forget to give you a good morning kiss!" he announces before giving me a peck on the lips and quickly returning to the bathroom.

You don't fool me, Lucius.


9:30 a.m.
Can't find anything out of the ordinary! Just the usual things.
Hairclips, his nail file, his endless collection of silk bows, his agenda...
Wait! That's it!


9:35 a.m.
No. Nothing!
Manicure, massage, hair appointment with Raul.
Oh, he booked a day at the Spa for both of us. Obviously feeling guilty about something.


10:00 a.m.
I sneak quietly through the house till I'm almost reaching his office.
I crouch behind a plant and nearly jump out of my skin when I hear Draco's voice.

"Mum?" he asks.

"Yes, darling? What is it?"

The boy looks scared, his hair is tousled from sleep and his green pyjama trousers are nearly falling off of him.

"Are you quite alright, Mum?"

I open my mouth to reassure the child, but am interrupted by the sound of Lucius footsteps.

He's early!
I shove the kid inside his bedroom and turn to greet my husband, schooling my face to appear innocent.


10:30 a.m.
Family breakfast.
Draco goes on and on about some girl named Potter. How sweet.
Lucius makes some comments about the tax-free profession of Dumbledore's mother, but I'm not paying much attention.

"So, my dear," I venomously spit, "what are you going to do today?"

I stab a croissant with the jam knife.

"I have a few businesses to take care of," he says, "but I'll start with a walk through our gardens with my beautiful wife," he smiles.

Oh, you're a tricky one, aren't you?

Draco looks worried for some reason, but I don't have time for this now.


11:00 a.m.
It's the second time his pimp cane catches on the ground making him stumble forward.
It's plain to see he is nervous.
He keeps talking about the latest Death Eaters' meeting, and how he is going to rid the world of muggles, blah, blah, blah.


11:20 a.m.
He is still talking about it.
That's enough.

"I thought we'd already discussed this, Lucius," I threaten him.

He seems to suddenly remember.

"Oh, of course, Narcissa, dear. No talking of the Dark Lord at home."

"And?" I ask him expectantly.

"Please, Cissa!" He pleads, "not outside of the bedroom, Draco's right above us, riding his broom!"

"AND!" I insist.

Draco looks down on us, stopping mid-flight, looking concerned.

I wave at him with a loving expression and he resumes his game.
Such a lovely child.

Lucius sighs, knowing himself defeated.

"At home, I'm no one's bitch but yours."

I smirk, "Very well, Lucius. Very well."


12:00 p.m.
He's still locked in his office.
That gives me time to plan until we meet for lunch.
It's a simple plan, really. After lunch he's off to do whatever he does and I'll stalk him. And when I get proof of his crime I'll knock him out cold with his cane and drag him home.
I laugh maniacally until my eyes water.


12:05 p.m.
Still laughing at my cunning.


I stop mid-laugh and turn to look at my beloved son.

He seems nervous. What's wrong with the boy? He's been jumpy lately.

"Yes, my precious?"

 "Do you need to talk about something?"

 He is so cute.

 "No, my sweet," I smile, "Why? Is there something you want to talk about?"

 The boy looks unsure.

 "You've been acting weirder... huh... weirdly lately, Mummy."

 I pat the seat next to me. He sits and I hug him.

 "No need to worry that pretty little head of yours, sweetheart! Mummy's alright!"

 He doesn't look convinced.


1:00 p.m.
Family lunch.
Lucius tells me he was practising his sneer, while locked in his office. He shows me which are his favourite ones and eagerly awaits my approval. I nod distractedly.
I'm worried about Draco. Something seems to be worrying the child.

 "Draco, is something bothering you, precious?" The boy jumps at my question.

 "No, Mother," he says confidently.

 "Now, Draco, you know better than to lie to your mother," Lucius tells him.

 "Daddy..." the child looks bothered, "are you and Mummy having problems?"

 "Nonsense, child! What a notion!" I lie.

 "Of course not, Draco! Of course not!" Lucius says, as if truly believing it.


2:00 p.m.
Diagon Alley.
He just got inside Borgin's shop.


2:35 p.m.
What the hell is he doing in there?
Could it be that that's where he does it?
No. He wouldn't do it in such a public place.


2:42 p.m.
He's finally coming out!
He always knows how to make an exit, his robes billowing behind him.
He can be such a drama queen, sometimes.


3:00 p.m.
What is he going to do in Flourish and Blotts?


3:24 p.m.
He looks like a kid in a candy store, the way he's looking at his new pheasant quill.
Of course, the look doesn't last long. Thankfully he remembers he is a Malfoy.


3:35 p.m.
Damn it!
I lost him in the crowd!
He has probably dissaparated by now!
I have to get back home.
I tremble with ill contained rage at the thought of what he may be doing right now, knowing himself away from prying eyes.


4:00 p.m.
Draco is making little paper dollies and drawing glasses on their little paper faces then tossing them into the fire.
Ah, the innocence of children!


4:26 p.m.
Lucius just apparated home.
He went straight to his office to perfect his scowl.
Or so he says.


5:00 p.m.
Family tea.
Lucius' appetite seems to be normal. Hmm.
Could it be that I'm wrong?
Draco is talking about the Potter girl again.
Oh, wait! Potter is a boy?
I have a feeling I'm never going to be a grandmother.
Oh, no! He seems to dislike the other boy.
Look at that cute little sneer!
He is so adorable!


6:00 p.m.
Lucius has been talking with Draco about why we are better because we are pureblood.
It does my heart good to see father and son spending quality time together.
My baby Draco will look so handsome in his little Death Eater robes!


8:00 p.m.
Family dinner.
Draco is refusing to eat his peas.
Lucius warns him that if he doesn't eat his vegetables he won't have the strength to defeat the Potter boy.

 "Draco, dear, don't shovel the peas down your throat. You're acting like a muggle," I tell him.

 The boy slows down his fork.


9:14 p.m.
Lucius is in our bedroom.
Hmm... I wonder?


9:15 p.m.
I thank our ancestors back to the first generation of druids that Draco is not here to see how his father has fallen!
I looked through the keyhole and sure enough, there he was feasting on it like a pig.


9:15 and 20 seconds p.m.
I kick the door open.


 He drops the spoon in fright.

 "Cissa!" He spurts, terrified.

 "I should have known!" I wail, "and in our own bed! I first suspected it when I found red stains on the sheets!"

 "Cissa, try to understand, please..." he stammers pathetically.

 "I hoped against hope that the stain was from a mortal wound you were concealing from my sight, but this... this... is inconceivable!"

 "Cissa!" He sobs, "I'm weak! I'm too weak to resist it! Please, Cissa! Keep your voice down! I don't want Draco to know!" He begs me.

 I concede.

 "How dare you speak of our son when you have lowered yourself such?"

 He just sobs, trying to clean the evidence of his crime.

 "Did you even stop to think of Draco when you broke your diet and sunk your head like a pig in a trough into that huge carton of strawberry ice-cream?" I pause to give him time to answer me, even though I know he will not.

 "Did you even think of what our beloved Draco would feel going down Diagon Alley with his obese father?"

 "Cissa! It was just a spoonful! Honest! And I'm only 2 ounces over my weight!"

 "A true Malfoy would never say such a thing!" I thunder.

 "You're right," he says, lowering his head in shame.

 "I believe, Lucius, that you deserve a punishment. Something that will also exercise you into losing that extra weight."

 "But, Cissa..."

 "Did I give you permission to speak?"

 "No, Mistress."

 "Good. Now go get the riding crop."

 "Yes, Mistress."


11:45 p.m.
Draco cowered in fear at the sounds echoing within the manor.
Every week the same. Whips lashing, moans and giggles.
And every once in a while something that sounded horribly like someone squealing like a pig.
What ill luck to live in a manor filled with ghosts and spectres.
And the worse part was that, without fail, in the morning after, his parents always claimed not to have heard a thing! They just looked at each other with blissful smiles on their faces, holding hands, like first year's Hufflepuffs.
He would never admit it, but sometimes, not often, but sometimes, he envied Harry Potter for not having a family.



The End