Write about something you've outlived.
The part that stings the most; even if he’ll never admit it, even not to his wife and most certainly not to his son or grandson, is how grateful he is that Scorpius is still alive. Every day, Lucius can raise and expect to be greeted by his grandson’s shining face, those sharp blue eyes (his eyes…), and that sharper mind. Every day, he can see his grandson when so many others aren’t that lucky. He can recount all the tragedies by heart having been responsible for most; Matthias Heim lost a daughter…and yet more families, long and noble, were extinguished. The Carrow were gone, the Rosier, the Oonda jailed…and the others were fleeing their homeland.
Those who were rich and entitled, who wanted nothing, had suddenly been reduced to refugees in their home; wandering rubbish- cast about by the wind.
The Malfoy alone seem to remain; as one of the last great Houses but even they are diminished. A light had gone out in the home; the occupants would never admit it, not to themselves in that quiet of the night where only your conscience bears witness, and certainly not to each other.
They were tainted.
It wouldn’t hurt any less if the boy had died and in truth, every insult his former comrades fling at him are true; he’d rather had that abomination in his home then in a grave, with his forbearers. Maybe if Scorpius had died- it would be easier. But the truth is, Lucius is an old man, and the night he heard his grandson had been attacked- he went to his knees and never got back up.
Things became simpler when his heart was torn from his chest. He was a drowning man without his family, and in truth, he would have taken anything; even that mongrel into his home if it meant he could have them back. He’d rather a facsimile of his grandson then nothing but a portrait on the wall.
He lost his family that day. The one he’d been taught to be proud of; the one that had produced him, his son, and his father and back and back into centuries of purity. He lost them that night, and he’ll never get it back. Scorpius death wouldn’t wipe that smear his name; the firstborn of one, of one…it would just prove it. The wounds would never heal, not from that injury; not from this war.
Lucius Malfoy lived to see the end of his House.
That it continues, only makes it worst.
Lucius Malfoy
Harry Potter
432
OOC: Inspired heavily by RP, and locked fro
Those who were rich and entitled, who wanted nothing, had suddenly been reduced to refugees in their home; wandering rubbish- cast about by the wind.
The Malfoy alone seem to remain; as one of the last great Houses but even they are diminished. A light had gone out in the home; the occupants would never admit it, not to themselves in that quiet of the night where only your conscience bears witness, and certainly not to each other.
They were tainted.
It wouldn’t hurt any less if the boy had died and in truth, every insult his former comrades fling at him are true; he’d rather had that abomination in his home then in a grave, with his forbearers. Maybe if Scorpius had died- it would be easier. But the truth is, Lucius is an old man, and the night he heard his grandson had been attacked- he went to his knees and never got back up.
Things became simpler when his heart was torn from his chest. He was a drowning man without his family, and in truth, he would have taken anything; even that mongrel into his home if it meant he could have them back. He’d rather a facsimile of his grandson then nothing but a portrait on the wall.
He lost his family that day. The one he’d been taught to be proud of; the one that had produced him, his son, and his father and back and back into centuries of purity. He lost them that night, and he’ll never get it back. Scorpius death wouldn’t wipe that smear his name; the firstborn of one, of one…it would just prove it. The wounds would never heal, not from that injury; not from this war.
Lucius Malfoy lived to see the end of his House.
That it continues, only makes it worst.
Lucius Malfoy
Harry Potter
432
OOC: Inspired heavily by RP, and locked fro