It's a beautiful summer day here in Wiltshire. Narcissa is looking as beautiful as ever, or perhaps moreso, and Draco's truly a credit to the Malfoy name. Everything is falling into place, which just proves that to everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under Heaven, as Narcissa's mother used to say.
It's been a long journey to this point, but, looking back, I wouldn't change a thing.
Well, well, well. Draco's leaving school. All of his classmates are soon to face the harsh reality of life outside school, unless, of course, something intervenes. I do hope they're ready. I'm certain Draco is, and he's a credit to our family. I have my doubts at times, but it's best to keep them to myself until I have concrete proof--which Draco has always been quite good at avoiding. I've taught him well.
Just a few more days until the students say farewell, forever, to the hallowed halls of Hogwarts and the protections held within. I hope that Draco will look back fondly at his years at school. Everything changes drastically once you leave, and you can never go back. Nor will anyone want to, I'm thinking.
A lovely day in Paris today. I had meetings all day, but luckily we held them at the home of an old friend and were able to take advantage of the conservatory. I ran into an old friend, Anne Broussard, and had a nice dinner with her. It's always fun to get reacquainted. Narcissa signed the documents and we are now the proud owners of a silver mine. I've decided to purchase a property on the Cote d'azur and several of my more pressing irritants have been effectively neutralized. It looks as if Narcissa and Remus have settled their differences, which will prove to be most useful indeed.
I had a wonderful evening last night! Walden MacNair and his wife were in town, so we enjoyed a leisurely dinner in my suite, followed by entertainment. It was good to see both of them, as I'd had a proposition for them both. Happily, they accepted.
I'd met with a real estate agent last week, and have narrowed my search for properties to three: One in Provence, one in Tuscany, and one on the Cote d'azur. Right now I can't decide between any of them.
Draco played his last quidditch game. It's hard to believe he's almost out of school, but he is, and doing wonderfully. He's acquitted himself remarkably well lately. I'm proud of him. I don't know what the future holds for him, but whatever it is, he'll do well. I certainly have hopes as to his future career, but the decision is his alone.
I am off. I'm meeting some friends for a late lunch and then off to Versailles again to get some decorating ideas.
I'd quite forgotten how much I love Paris, especially at this time of year. I love walking along the Seine. All the lights are reflected in the river, flickering, and it's misty, and I can remember walking this same route with her all those years ago. The Rive Gauche is much as I remember it, and there's a little cafe I often take my cafe au lait at in the afternoons. It's peaceful, and I took a day trip to Versailles. It reminded me of so many things. Memories are curious things. They aren't real, but they can still wound you.
It seems my days of leisure are at an end, however; there are several quite pressing matters that demand attention. Loose ends, if you will, but I do believe I've figured out how best to resolve them both. Both will require time and patience, but, as an arachnid thinks only of the final resolution when she spins her web, so must I.
Well, Dacey is gone and it's all quite incomprehensible (and inconvenient) to me why such an innocent life had to end the way it did, when she'd done nothing to deserve such an ignominous end, quick though it might have been. I'm quite beside myself, as is Narcissa. Draco is quite traumatised. We've suffered a great loss in this family and I just wish it could have been myself. She's DEAD, and she's NEVER COMING BACK AND SHE'S OUR LITTLE ELF AND NOBODY TELLS ME WHY AND NOBODY TELLS ME WHY THEY WOULD DO THIS TO OUR LITTLE ELF. PLEASE TELL ME WHY DACEY DESERVED THIS.
It's late. The fire is low, casting it's flickering light on the rug here in the library, looking as if blood has been spilt recently. It's a sign of guilt, some would say, to see blood everywhere I look. As some assume I do. What's in the nature of evil? In the end, everyone is trying to maximize all that they are given to obtain what they want. Everyone. If they're honest, they'll admit to the truth of that statement. Is that evil?
Those who are laboring under the mantle of evil--whether imposed from within or without--are no worse than anyone else. It's the ones who claim they are good, or are in any way better than the rest of us, that we must beware. For those who claim to be good often claim to have higher knowledge, a more superior view of How Things Should Be, and that leads to dictatorship. I once believed those who told me they knew the truth. I don't anymore. But mantles are hard to get out from under. On the other hand, it's easy to disguise one's actions, and certainly one's motivations. Being underestimated is not, in itself, an entirely bad thing. Deeds are deeds. It is only society's mores that attach a label of "good" or "bad". The deed itself is neutral. Evil isn't doing bad things--the actions themselves cannot be evil. Evil is feeling bad about the actions.
To do what one must do, with the tools one is given, in order to keep that which he holds dear safe, is not evil. No matter what label may be attached.
It is late. I've been out in the garden, thinking. The manor is quiet and no one will stay awake with me. Trials are soon to take place--some of my own doing, some not--and I feel now as though it is all out of my hands. I can only sit back and watch events unfold. I'm as ready as I'll ever be. I only hope Draco is too.
I'll have another drink. And wonder if the sins of the father will be visited upon the son.
