I decided to translate a couple (or more) of the best fics I have found in Russian fandom. Please, tell whether you would like to read more translated fics, any thoughts about this fic & if you see any mistakes in the translation, please tell me about them in your comments.
The title: EVERYTHING’S FINE, BEAUTIFUL MARCHESA…
Author: Fidelia .
Beta: who is that at all? ;)))
Main characters: Lucius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.
Genre: humor, suspense.
My comment: This minific must be read until the end to be understood.
Original fic in Russian: here.
The poem for this fic (in Russian): here.
EVERYTHING’S FINE, BEAUTIFUL MARCHESA…
The morning sun was bathing the elegant parlor, featuring emerald- silvery tones, birds were jollily singing in the garden, rejoicing in the beginning of a new summer day. Being in a wonderful mood, Lucius Malfoy was savoring the morning cup of tea, his eyes narrowed in pleasure, when in the open window flew Draco's eagle owl and offered a leg with a letter. The senior Malfoy unhurriedly untied the pigtailed parchment and opened it. In a heartbeat his face fell and turned chalk -white, his eyes became wide open, and hands started trembling so much that black coffee was spilled on the snow-white starched tablecloth, creating ugly stains. It seemed Lucius had a fit of apoplexy. Here is what he read:
The time to reveal you all the truth has arrived. Probably, it will be a big shock for you, but you should understand and forgive me, after all I am your beloved son. Please, don't be badly upset, this is detrimental to one's health.
Today I marry my darling girl, Hermione Granger. Forgive, that I don't invite you with mother, aunt Bella and others to the wedding, since there will be OoTF members, fugitive criminal Sirius Black, werewolf Lupin, blood traitors Weasley and my other friends, who don't love you very much… I decided not to upset them and didn't invite you to the celebration; you won't take offence, will you? Please, apologize for me to others.
It doesn't matter, that Hermione is a Mudblood, we deeply love each other, and I sincerely hope, that our firstborn, who will come into the world already in five months, will resemble you. True, Hermi claims, that he may well be a redhead, and even a green-eyed brunet, but it doesn't matter, who knows, which genes we carry… Hopefully, he won't have a scar on his forehead, otherwise what will people think?
I wanted Gregory Goyle or Vincent Crabbe be a godfather, but Hermione stuck out for Professor Snape. She says if something happens with me, he will help her brew and sell potions for the sake of our old school friendship.
We have chosen Ginny to be a godmother; she is a top-class girl, specially, if she takes a bath. Then one can even stand close to her.
Never mind that Hermione can't cook, doesn't like to clean and is afraid of water (this is hereditary in her clan), but then she is clever at magic mushrooms and brews a downright mind blowing potion from the spotted shrew's teeth. Don't worry; her potions are of the highest quality, and I can say so rightly, since we taste ourselves each new portion. We can sell the potions at the Knockturn Alley and the money will somehow tide us over at first, and if it won't be enough, Hermione will receive the clients.
Imagine how we have scored! Skinflintit agreed to accept her into her brothel, taking only 45 percents of the earned money, and sending the best clients, so my wifie won't have to stand in the cold, seizing rare passers-by's sleeves. If you are among her clients, don't begrudge. You know we need money so much…
Have you probably noticed that mother misses jewelry, and certain ancient artifacts have disappeared? It was me who took and sold them. You see, the Order needs means for fighting Uncle Tom, and I decided that I can help. You aren't angry, are you? You have always understood me so well…
You will ask: where are all my savings, which I have been so carefully putting aside since childhood? You know, Hermione persuaded me to give them to the Weasleys; they have such tight going… I have even sold a broom for this purpose. Seven children- this isn't one, which, in addition, hasn't been born yet, and I decided they need money more than us.
Mister Weasley was very grateful to me, he even promised to ask for the best cell for you, when the Aurors catch you, father. You see, I babbled about your lair to the Mad-Eye Moody in the ecstasy of joy, when Dumbledore promised Hermione and me a room at the OoTF's headquarters. We and our firstborn sure won't live in our Manor after its confiscation; this isn't a place for a child. I don't want my son to grow up a pampered prince, as I have been; he will be a real man, a fighter for the rightful cause, that's why I won't even send him to Hogwarts. Let him be brought up by the Mad-Eye himself, then he will make good.
Don't be troubled, one day we with Hermione and our children will visit you in Azkaban, if you live until that moment, of course, since people say life sentence in Azkaban will soon be changed into Dementor's Kiss, applied almost immediately after the court. I am afraid you won't have time to exult over us with Hermi, that's why I write you about everything in advance.
The main thing- don't worry for me, I am almost 17 and can take care of myself and my family alone… Forgive, if something isn't right, I love you very much.
P.S. Dad! Everything, that I have written, is a lie. I hate Mudblood Granger, blood traitors Weasley, all werewolves in the world and the members of this trashy Order headed by Dumbledore. I won't reveal under any tortures the place, where the secret DEs' headquarters is situated and will never give anybody my money, let alone mother's jewelry and your artifacts.
The truth is that the Mudblood has bested me one more time and has become the top student of the year again, making the grade. I have written this letter to make you realize that the grades aren't the most important thing in life, that my second place isn't the most terrible thing, which could happen, is it? Forgive me for lying; I simply decided to sweeten the pill a bit.
Really, now I am standing outside the door and biting lips, waiting for the thrashing. Forgive me once again, father.
Lucius slowly got up, got off the table and started for the parlor's exit, his hands weren't trembling anymore, his lips became tightened, and eyes turned into two small slits from anger. He opened the door, discovered his son, shrunk into himself from fear … and hugged him.