Memoirs of a Pimp Cane

The name's Malfoy. Robespierre Malfoy. Charmed, I'm sure.

Occasionally, people call me Bob. Then I curse them. Malfoys do not have nicknames. It demeans us.

I am, technically, 712 years old. Even for a wizard, that's ancient. It's almost immortality. I've heard that young Nicholas Flamel only made it to 667. Loser.

I've seen a lot of changes over the years. There have been some good times, like when Grindelwald was threatening the world. But mostly, the changes aren't the way I want the world to be. I've watched as the wizard world was pushing back into hiding, while the Muggles walked free. It angers me how wizards live almost in captivity, too scared even to breathe, less the dirty Muggles notice them.

But there's not a lot I can do. You see, I'm a Pimp Cane.

Alright, I'm actually a rather scary looking walking cane, conveniently doubling as a wand holder. But young Draco refers to me as 'The Pimp Cane.' I think it started as jealous mocking, but I quite like the name myself. My 'owner' however, does not. Which only makes Draco say it more. Although, I think that secretly he likes the name. Lucius is like that. He can hide his true thoughts so easily. Even from me, and I'm with him most of the time.

I know what you're thinking. The life of a Pimp Cane couldn't possibly be taxing or anything.

Well, you're wrong. And if you say otherwise, I'll Crucio you.

Or at least I would, if I had arms. And a mouth.

*sigh*

All I have is a rather neat silver snake head. It's very shiny. I get a lot of polishing.

It really is no fun being an inanimate object. Sometimes I fall over and I can't get back up again. I just lie on the floor until a house-elf picks me up. Strange, but they don't like me very much though. I guess it's because Lucius likes to whack them with me. No more than they deserve. Occasionally, the house-elves play croquet with me when no one's looking. If I could talk, they'd be getting clothes right now.

On the other hand, being a Pimp Cane has its advantages. Some of the conversations I've overheard would make your hair curl. Not that I'm one to gossip, but...well, for starters, Lucius' wife, Narcissa is having an affair with the butler, Anton. Rather scandalous when one realises Anton is a ghost. I'm not entirely sure of the mechanics of such a thing, but what I wouldn't give to stand in the corner while that goes on.

I've been to hundreds of Death Eater meetings, more frequently since that amateur Voldemort returned. You would not believe how tedious it is to sit in the corner, listening to ridiculous plans regarding killing that Potter boy. I, of course, have dozens of deliciously evil plans, but can anyone here them? No. And why is that?

Because I'm a goddamned PIMP CANE!!

I guess you could say I'm ever so slightly bitter and twisted, and perhaps even a little more insane than the average psychotic Malfoy gene allows. And there've been a few nutters in the family. Darius Malfoy was renowned as Darius the Deluded. He spent his life thinking he was a blancmange. A violent pink one. He used to shout that people were trying to eat him with a spoon.

Perhaps with all the hatred that's built up over the centuries, it's better that I'm not a person. Think of the havoc I could wreak...

Sorry, got lost in a wonderful train of thought there. Death. Destruction. A good Polishing every half hour....now, where was I?

Oh, yes. I'm sure I wouldn't be half as bitter if this was actually my fault. Honestly, it's not.

I was 16 at the time, and a student at Hogwarts. Esme Higgins had spread a rumour that I'd shagged half of Hogwarts. Which was a complete and utter lie. I simply explained to her that I had in fact shagged everyone with pureblood, and that I wouldn't shag a mudblood like her if she was the last creature on earth, and there were no sheep. The next think I knew, I was a cane.

My younger brother Julius took me to Headmaster Rumpold and explained what had happened. But there was nothing he could do. The spell was irreversible. Looking back, I don't think he tried very hard to un-transfigure me. Like I said, craziness runs in our family, so perhaps Julius brandishing a walking cane and claiming it was his older brother was perhaps a little too far-fetched. Even my father didn't believe him. He spent exactly three days wondering where I'd gone, then returned to his evil brooding. Family ties have never been a big issue in the Malfoy family. Family grudges are though, and I should know. Although, it does seem petty to hold that grudge when the bastard's been dead for 650 years.

Julius insisted on keeping me, and I stayed with him until he passed me down to his son at the age of 21. Somehow, it became a tradition. I'm even in the Malfoy Code of Conduct, rule 438: The Malfoy heir shall carry the ceremonial cane at all public appearances. I'm also mentioned in rule 1137: No Malfoy shall carry the cane during Quidditch practice, as eyes are easily gouged out. That was not a pleasant experience neither for myself nor the young Malfoy in question. At times, the heir has resented my presence, and on more than one occasion I have been unceremoniously left in the clutches of a vicious pixie, or thrown to a rabid pack of Werewolves. On one rather unforgettable incident, I found myself being handled by a Muggle after being throw into a rubbish bin. I can still feel those terrible, unmagical fingers on me. I didn't feel completely clean for weeks, even after hours of polishing. I still have nightmares about it, to this day.

Despite the lack of enthusiasm some have regarding my presence, I do have an indisputable charm. I have...certain uses, and I've seen an awful lot in my time. Lucius may be a ladies man, but he's nothing compares to old Casanova Malfoy. Now, he was a man who could get anything he wanted. All it was all because of my sex appeal. There's just something about me that turns women on. Can't blame them really. Who in their right mind would pass up a good old fashioned spanking with yours truly?

Ah, the good old days. Spanking was a legitimate pastime. Women would fall at my 'owners' feet if he was carrying me. But now it looks like I have competition, in the form of the black bow Lucius is so fond of wearing now. And it's just ridiculous. I mean, it isn't even its own entity for Merlin's sake!

*sigh*

At least I won't have the competition for long. Young Draco's 16 now. Only another five years and I'll belong to him. He's quite a handsome chap. Rather reminds me of myself, actually. We'll make a great team. I can picture it now...

Oh, look, here comes Lucius. Is it time for another polishing? Oh goody!!