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annoyed

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Alphonse's bastard is moving house in the middle of the night. I should care--he's closer to having his head screwed on straight than either of my children--but what kind of person packs up his apartment and prepares to leave town in the middle of a lightning rain?

Either his whore of a daughter has gone and done something stupid--again--or somebody trusts him more than they trust me, which is intolerable, especially since he's rewarding that trust by being so bloody obvious.

Meanwhile, we nearly got sucked into the great beyond here at Grimmauld Place.

No, Acrux, I don't think I want to live here. For all that I need to distance myself from Septimus, living on the same street as the Dux Bellorum is, as the eldest of my ungrateful brats would say, definitively counter-indicated.

It's definitely time to extricate myself from this mess that Septimus has made for himself. I'm not taking that brat back into my house if Hogwarts fails.

So the Zabini boy didn't get married. I suppose that I do know what that means. Weak. I don't understand, quite, why some people want to get rid of them all; they die out on their own. The Malfoys will be lucky if they don't die out completely within a generation; Yvon's in love with the Zabini boy, Dracaena's a freak, and I hear the Mudblood daughter's a lesbian. I wonder if Yvon will even have the common sense to go to the Beltane Knights--whoever takes that over--and hope that the Prioress has good news for him someday. Probably not. He certainly used to castigate me for not being monogamous; he'll probably be completely loyal. Poppy had children with Rosier, but they look and act like him, and she'd rather play dolls with my mad sister.

Maybe Lucius will be just like the rest of them; now that the Weasley name has died out, theirs should follow. Poppaea says Dracaena's pregnant, but God only knows what she'll breed.

I can't believe that boy came out of me. Blood will always tell. But I wish Dracaena would take more care to point out he's a fosterling, not another of her bastards. I will not have people thinking I laid down for that. Alphonse had that, but I never did.

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shocked

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Dreadful, simply dreadful. I don't know how to begin to express the awfulness.

Things were going so well between Septimus and me, and then that awful Draco Malfoy reappeared. I suppose I should call it Dracaena now that we're all reliably informed (via its sister, Poppaea, who never shuts up) that it's pregnant. That creature has been talking to almost everyone that it knows about Septimus (personally, I don't think it has ever forgiven him for losing interest in it when it decided to become an it) and that Hungarian tart is not helping. You would think he had personally arranged the siege of whatever that place is called, I can't be bothered trying to spell it; they used to be part of an Empire and they should speak German or English or Latin like everyone else. How that bitch has managed to get some of the best households in town to receive her I'll never know. The value of a Durmstrang education has certainly been allowed to fall and I hope that the problem will be redressed tout de suite.

Septimus has had to leave town on the shortest of notice to take care of some work in America, he has taken little Abelard with him, and I am left with his daughter. When I started seeing Septimus after waiting for so very long, I expected good food and good sex and the political sympathies were frankly a bonus. I did not expect to have to play foster-mother to his filthy Mudblood bastard. I now understand his haste to get to the altar even though I am not at all sure that I want to be married again. Even with Abelard for a husband, this foul-mouthed, greasy-haired, hook-nosed child (she is half gipsy and looks like a Jew) can never be the future of his line. She isn't even on their tapestry.

My head aches.