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One Perfect Day
**
It was the tail end of a long, Indian summer.
The mid-afternoon sun shone down upon an idyllic scene: a loving family, mother, father, and two children, picnicking on a hillside under the shade of a great, spreading tree. It was a snapshot of a lifestyle – and an era – long passed, a dream that bore very little resemblance to the reality of life in the world outside the Veil.
Because this was the enchanted, protected world that Brandon Andenais, the first Malfoy, had conquered so very long ago, and which his descendants had held against all comers – even the inevitable march of time and progress. Even to the most jaded Slytherins, there were some things worth fighting – and dying – for.
Julian Malfoy, however, at nearly fifteen, was not convinced of the absolute importance of maintaining Malfoy supremacy. Stretched out on the lush green grass, he lay on his back and looked up at the clear sky, his mind dreaming of far, far away places where no one had ever heard of the Malfoy name, and no one cared that he could trace his bloodline back two and a half thousand years.
He couldn’t wait until his return to Hogwarts in September.
“Julian?” his father asked, coming up to sit beside him, speaking in that cool, aristocratic voice that meant there was a serious father-son talk coming up in the not-too distant future. “What are you thinking?”
Julian looked up at the great Draco Malfoy, who had turned on all his pureblooded friends and associates in order to ensure the survival and continued independence of the Malfoy, and who had been at Harry Potter’s side in the last battle against Voldemort. His parents never spoke much about the old days, but Julian had heard enough to know that his father had not had an easy time of it. He was older, now, just past forty; there were fine lines at the corners of his eyes, and streaks of silver in his white-fair hair. But to Julian he was the embodiment of cool sophistication and effortless influence, so completely set in his ways and in his world that it was hard to believe he’d ever been young, and insecure, and unsure.
Julian turned his eyes to the view from the hillcrest – the Malfoy estate, spread out at his feet, every inch of it familiar and well loved.
“Hogwarts,” he answered. “The past. The future.”
His father said nothing, and, lost in his thoughts, Julian continued. “At Hogwarts, children of complete Muggle blood are held equal to even the oldest pureblood families. Grandma Weasley said that every student came to Hogwarts with a clean slate, a chance to make what they will of their future.”
His father muttered something under his breath about interfering old busybodies. Julian ignored him.
“But if everyone has the chance to shape their own lives, then why do I have to be stuck with –” he threw his hands out wide, encompassing the great expanse of Malfoy lands below them, “– all this?”
His father sighed. “You know why,” he said wearily, and indeed, Julian did know why – he’d heard it all before: duty, responsibility, pureblood wealth and privilege and the vital legacy of the past that must be preserved for future generations.
“But I don’t want it,” Julian said fiercely.
There was a long, taut silence.
“No one does,” Draco answered finally. “But we accept it anyway.”
**
Optional Extra. Warning: Excessive Fluff
**
As she watched her son storm away in a huff, his sullen, stubborn face a replica of his father’s at the same age, Ginny turned her attention back to her daughter.
Six-year-old Lucrezia, delicate, ethereal, and as single-mindedly ruthless as her namesake grandfather, smiled angelically up at her and fluttered her ridiculously long eyelashes. Even at this age, she had the makings of an unrepentant seductress: her father, brother, grandfather and six uncles were firmly wrapped around her imperious finger, and even the house elves scrambled to fulfil even her slightest wish.
“Lucy,” Ginny warned, using the diminutive because she liked to imagine old Lucius rolling in his grave, “what did Mummy tell you about self-respect and women’s liberation?”
The exquisite rosebud mouth screwed into a pout. “But Grandma ‘Cissa says…”
Ginny bit back a curse. “Yes, I know what Grandma Cissa says. But you can’t go about enchanting poor foolish males into obedience forever, Lucy. For one thing, it’s just not fair to them.”
Quiet laughter sounded behind her, and her husband’s arms came around her in a warm, loving hug. “Darling,” Draco said, “don’t you think you’re being a bit harsh? Lucrezia’s only six years old.”
“Lucy,” Ginny said firmly, “is well on her way to becoming a tyrant. If we don’t nip it in the bud, she’ll be unbearable once she hits adolescence.” Sparing her unrepentant daughter one last, warning look, she changed the subject. “What’s wrong with Julian?”
Draco placed a kiss right at the junction of her neck and collarbone. “He’s fourteen years old,” he answered. “Isn’t that enough?”
“Not when you’ve just been talking to him. Did you start in again on duty and responsibility? Draco, he’s only fourteen.”
“That’s more than old enough –”
But before it could degenerate into a quarrel, Lucy crossed to them, her arms wide, and grabbed their legs in a great bear hug. “’m a Malfoy, too!” she exclaimed, her eyes shining and determined. “An’ when I grow up, I’m gonna be Queen Lucy!”
Queen Lucy’s fond parents looked down at her in very real dismay. Once set on a course, the little girl was immovable –
“Well,” Draco said, his voice not quite steady, “it looks as though Julian might have some competition when he gets older.”
“But Mummy,” Lucy said, her eyes suddenly meltingly sweet and innocent, “you said boys were just as good as girls…”
**
Fin
One Perfect Day
**
It was the tail end of a long, Indian summer.
The mid-afternoon sun shone down upon an idyllic scene: a loving family, mother, father, and two children, picnicking on a hillside under the shade of a great, spreading tree. It was a snapshot of a lifestyle – and an era – long passed, a dream that bore very little resemblance to the reality of life in the world outside the Veil.
Because this was the enchanted, protected world that Brandon Andenais, the first Malfoy, had conquered so very long ago, and which his descendants had held against all comers – even the inevitable march of time and progress. Even to the most jaded Slytherins, there were some things worth fighting – and dying – for.
Julian Malfoy, however, at nearly fifteen, was not convinced of the absolute importance of maintaining Malfoy supremacy. Stretched out on the lush green grass, he lay on his back and looked up at the clear sky, his mind dreaming of far, far away places where no one had ever heard of the Malfoy name, and no one cared that he could trace his bloodline back two and a half thousand years.
He couldn’t wait until his return to Hogwarts in September.
“Julian?” his father asked, coming up to sit beside him, speaking in that cool, aristocratic voice that meant there was a serious father-son talk coming up in the not-too distant future. “What are you thinking?”
Julian looked up at the great Draco Malfoy, who had turned on all his pureblooded friends and associates in order to ensure the survival and continued independence of the Malfoy, and who had been at Harry Potter’s side in the last battle against Voldemort. His parents never spoke much about the old days, but Julian had heard enough to know that his father had not had an easy time of it. He was older, now, just past forty; there were fine lines at the corners of his eyes, and streaks of silver in his white-fair hair. But to Julian he was the embodiment of cool sophistication and effortless influence, so completely set in his ways and in his world that it was hard to believe he’d ever been young, and insecure, and unsure.
Julian turned his eyes to the view from the hillcrest – the Malfoy estate, spread out at his feet, every inch of it familiar and well loved.
“Hogwarts,” he answered. “The past. The future.”
His father said nothing, and, lost in his thoughts, Julian continued. “At Hogwarts, children of complete Muggle blood are held equal to even the oldest pureblood families. Grandma Weasley said that every student came to Hogwarts with a clean slate, a chance to make what they will of their future.”
His father muttered something under his breath about interfering old busybodies. Julian ignored him.
“But if everyone has the chance to shape their own lives, then why do I have to be stuck with –” he threw his hands out wide, encompassing the great expanse of Malfoy lands below them, “– all this?”
His father sighed. “You know why,” he said wearily, and indeed, Julian did know why – he’d heard it all before: duty, responsibility, pureblood wealth and privilege and the vital legacy of the past that must be preserved for future generations.
“But I don’t want it,” Julian said fiercely.
There was a long, taut silence.
“No one does,” Draco answered finally. “But we accept it anyway.”
**
Optional Extra. Warning: Excessive Fluff
**
As she watched her son storm away in a huff, his sullen, stubborn face a replica of his father’s at the same age, Ginny turned her attention back to her daughter.
Six-year-old Lucrezia, delicate, ethereal, and as single-mindedly ruthless as her namesake grandfather, smiled angelically up at her and fluttered her ridiculously long eyelashes. Even at this age, she had the makings of an unrepentant seductress: her father, brother, grandfather and six uncles were firmly wrapped around her imperious finger, and even the house elves scrambled to fulfil even her slightest wish.
“Lucy,” Ginny warned, using the diminutive because she liked to imagine old Lucius rolling in his grave, “what did Mummy tell you about self-respect and women’s liberation?”
The exquisite rosebud mouth screwed into a pout. “But Grandma ‘Cissa says…”
Ginny bit back a curse. “Yes, I know what Grandma Cissa says. But you can’t go about enchanting poor foolish males into obedience forever, Lucy. For one thing, it’s just not fair to them.”
Quiet laughter sounded behind her, and her husband’s arms came around her in a warm, loving hug. “Darling,” Draco said, “don’t you think you’re being a bit harsh? Lucrezia’s only six years old.”
“Lucy,” Ginny said firmly, “is well on her way to becoming a tyrant. If we don’t nip it in the bud, she’ll be unbearable once she hits adolescence.” Sparing her unrepentant daughter one last, warning look, she changed the subject. “What’s wrong with Julian?”
Draco placed a kiss right at the junction of her neck and collarbone. “He’s fourteen years old,” he answered. “Isn’t that enough?”
“Not when you’ve just been talking to him. Did you start in again on duty and responsibility? Draco, he’s only fourteen.”
“That’s more than old enough –”
But before it could degenerate into a quarrel, Lucy crossed to them, her arms wide, and grabbed their legs in a great bear hug. “’m a Malfoy, too!” she exclaimed, her eyes shining and determined. “An’ when I grow up, I’m gonna be Queen Lucy!”
Queen Lucy’s fond parents looked down at her in very real dismay. Once set on a course, the little girl was immovable –
“Well,” Draco said, his voice not quite steady, “it looks as though Julian might have some competition when he gets older.”
“But Mummy,” Lucy said, her eyes suddenly meltingly sweet and innocent, “you said boys were just as good as girls…”
**
Fin
The End.
LadyRhiyana is the author of 16 other stories.
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This story is a favorite of 3 members. Members who liked One Perfect Day also liked 314 other stories.
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