Title: Calli
Chapter: Prologue: Calliope Malfoy and The Prisoner of Azkaban
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Calliope is mine, as are future Hogwarts students you'll meet. Nothing else is.
Summary: Starring Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy's daughter, Virginia Weasley, and various original characters that stumble into the plot, take one good look at it, and run away as fast as they can.
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The door fell in with a bone-jarring thump. Draco Malfoy wheeled to face the squad of Aurors who were pouring through the space formally occupied by an artwork of mahogany wood. He knew what they had come for. And who had sent him. That didn't stop him from being scared stiff.
"Mr. Malfoy, you are under arrest for seven charges of First Degree Murder. Two deaths by magical invocation, but," and here the impersonal voice of the hardened Auror sharpened to a snarl of such hate it surprised even himself. "the remaining five were so pockmarked with slashes, bruises, and miscellaneous curses that even our autopsy specialists couldn't find the original cause of death."
One Auror, known to his friends as Harry Potter, (and to his enemies as several long and explicative curse words) stepped forward and met the convicted serial killer eye-to-eye. "I will personally do everything in my power to get you the kiss, Malfoy." The-Man-Who-Lived menaced.
Draco sighed melodramatically. "Oh my, Potter. That's quite a threat. But, unlike yourself, I must confess that I am straight and have no wish for lip contact with you." You can still be a sarcastic bastard in the face of death, even if it isn't usually very wise. Though Draco was known for being terribly clever and very smart, his wisdom left something to be desired.
Why was Potter so angry, anyway? Oh-of course there had been that Chang girl who had walked in when the manticore was feeding on Lisa Turpin. Unfortunate, that. The Death Eaters as a policy never murdered any purebloods that hadn't done anything. And the girl had been pretty too... But dead is dead, and the dead have no regrets. Well, actually, they have even more than the living, but they can't complain about them.
Draco was abruptly dragged out of Memory Lane (Not to be confused with Memory Ally, which connected with Knockturn Ally.) And into the present when Harry threw a punch at him. With a lightning-quick dodge to the side, the soon-to-be-convict kicked as hard as he could in a place that no man likes to be kicked in, and slammed his fist into Harry's skull. There was a dull thump as the Man-Who-Fainted slumped into unconsciousness.
Another Auror launched themselves at him, hands curled into fists and lips drawn back with the air of someone who learned street fighting from a book. Rolling his eyes at the hapless Auror, Draco brought his wand down in a sudden swish and hissed "Stupefy." Apparently the squad of magical constables had forgotten their wands in their hurry to kill Malfoy with their bare hands. Or, in one vampire's case, their bare fangs.
Using their stupidity as an advantage, Draco managed to disable six more before he fell into the semi-blissful state of unconsciousness.
The last thing he heard before he fell into deep slumber was his infant daughter's cry. Well, in fact, it was the seventh thing he heard before he fell into deep slumber, but as "Got the bugger!" was the last statement to grace the ears, and various screams of pain and long streams of curses made up the other six, we'll just call it the last.
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I suppose I could go into the extensive details of the court case, the child custody case, or the sorting out of my multitudinous belongings, but all that is very boring and I think you would probably skim the section anyway. Therefore, there isn't really any use in me writing it, is there?
My name is Draco Ares Malfoy. Mum wanted Eros, (Little Greek cupid.) and Lucious wanted Lucifer, (I'm assuming you know who he is.) so they compromised with Ares, Greek god of war. But my middle name doesn't really matter, and I think you could care less if it was Zyx.
What is important is that Potter didn't get his wish and I am merely going to get shipped off to Azkaban for the rest of my glorious existence. I'm absolutely thrilled. My fortunes are going to be combed through for all things relating to the Dark Arts, and all remaining riches will be inaccessible until my daughter (Calliope Artemis Malfoy, age one) is eighteen, at which point she will get the keys to the Manor and my Gringotts vault. Oh, and Calli is going to be the charge of Pansy Parkinson, my ex-wife.
Unfortunately for all parties involved, I am not an animagus and cannot rescue my daughter from the clutches of my ex-wife. Or rather, if Calli is going to be anything like I suspect she will be, rescue my ex-wife from the clutches of my daughter.
I suppose I'll have to sit here scratching the days onto the stone walls, trying to dig myself out with the spoon I use for eating, (You have to wonder why nobody ever thinks of using the bowl...) and vainly attempting to guess which half-insane female prisoners might have, at one time, been sexy.
Out for now. See you again when I'm molding in the coffin.
Draco Malfoy
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A/N Prologue to a tale of romance... A tale of drama... A tale of adventure... A tale of knights and wizards and dragons and... Scratch that. All that is far too cliché. Umm... How about a tale with a hint of romance, a pinch of drama, a good splash of adventure, and two tons of very twisted sort-of-humor.
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