I was born a Black, graced with the Malfoy name.
I am a Lady of Pure blood.
My home has been invaded by the highest form of filth, the Pure who behave as commoners.
This is entirely unacceptable.
It feels as if it has been centuries since I last held control of my own life, if I did ever. In this moment, my home, my family, my very fate is in the hands of one I can hardly call a man. He is more monster than man, it seems.
Here in the dreadfully full Manor I have called home since my marriage at an age too young to fathom my future, I can find no peace. And yet, somehow, I cannot remember ever having felt more lonely.
As I pace the hallways that have become my prison, I can hear shouts and voices from many rooms around me, drifting through the thick wood and up through the floorboards from the grand rooms below. All I do is pace, seeking some form of sanctuary from this life I have somehow fallen into.
The Dark Lord no longer trusts us, me, my family, not as he once did. Lucius has failed him, and thus brought the Dark Lord’s disappointment and fury down upon all of our heads. Though it is not Lucius or myself for which I fear, it is Draco. I know the Dark Lord will not spare my son, and so does Draco. He has taken to enclosing himself within the vast library on the third floor, one of the few places that our unwelcome visitors do not choose to frequent. He does not want company, only the books that stack in increasing piles around him. It frightens me, but I can do nothing. I am powerless in my own home.
Lucius insists that the Dark Lord using our Manor as a headquarters is an honor, a privilege. I do not see it as such. As of late, the Dark Lord tends to be away often, along with the majority of his followers, including Lucius and at times, Draco. Those few that stay behind are those chosen to watch my family for signs of disloyalty. I am always watched.
Now, in these dark times, not a moment alone can I find, even pacing in the halls of my home.