A one-shot fic about Lucius Malfoy. Hopefully it's kinda funny but still
pretty dark...
Just This Once
He sat in the dark cell of Azkaban Prison. He ran his hand over the tingling mark on his forearm. He looked out through the bars to the single light, which was flickering and causing his headache to worsen. He looked back to the mark. He prodded it and it stung like hell. He rubbed his arm gently to subdue the pain. He began to argue with himself...
"All right, perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to join the Deatheaters after all.
It didn't make me any richer than I should've been.
It didn't make me any more popular than I am already.
It didn't help things with Narcissa (then again, not much ever has).
If anything, all it's done is get me into trouble. Well, more trouble than I'm worth. After all I am a Malfoy..."
He thought long and hard about himself and those around him. He thought of the Malfoy Mansion in Wiltshire, which was almost as dark and depressing as Azkaban itself. Almost.
"Maybe I'm just cursed. Maybe it's all my fault for being born a Malfoy and living up to the wretched name."
A small voice began to whisper in the back of his mind:
"Think again. Would you rather be someone else? A Weasley perhaps? Or a Potter? Or a rotten Mudblood like the Evans clan or the Grangers?"
"No, I don't suppose I would... They do seem to have all the luck though..."
The voice became outraged.
"All the luck? Listen to yourself Lucius... You're the rich one, you're the popular one, you're the one with a doting wife and son..."
Lucius raked his mind, trying to shake out the arguing voice in his head.
"Doting eh? So doting they don't even visit? I haven't had a single word from them... Not a word..."
"Who cares?" Came the voice. Lucius knew it was his own drawling voice that overtook him at most public occasions. He couldn't help the spite from displaying itself. Or the malice and jealousy rearing their ugly heads. "Did I hear you right?" The voice drawled. "Jealousy? What exactly do those blood-traitors have that you don't?"
The cold Azkaban cell was breezy, even on these summer nights. That's what he got for being out in the middle of the ocean. The cold wind blew a few strands of perfect white-blond hair over his eyes. He put his head in his hands, pushing the hairs back.
"Happiness..." He told the voice.
Of course, he usually listened to the voice in his head. The human mind is a marvellous thing. Especially when you can tap into other people's. Being a Legimens had helped him a lot over the years. Not that he couldn't intimidate people in other ways... That voice in his head, the one that helped him on his way to greatness, the one he always thought of as undoubtedly right.
But the voice wasn't right this time.
"Just this once, you're wrong..." He told himself. "Hear me? You are wrong and that's that..."
Just this once he was wrong. Just this once he would cut himself a little slack. Just this once he'd admit he was unhappy...
"Well," said the voice, "there's a first time for everything..."
Thank you for reading, please review! :D
Just This Once
He sat in the dark cell of Azkaban Prison. He ran his hand over the tingling mark on his forearm. He looked out through the bars to the single light, which was flickering and causing his headache to worsen. He looked back to the mark. He prodded it and it stung like hell. He rubbed his arm gently to subdue the pain. He began to argue with himself...
"All right, perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to join the Deatheaters after all.
It didn't make me any richer than I should've been.
It didn't make me any more popular than I am already.
It didn't help things with Narcissa (then again, not much ever has).
If anything, all it's done is get me into trouble. Well, more trouble than I'm worth. After all I am a Malfoy..."
He thought long and hard about himself and those around him. He thought of the Malfoy Mansion in Wiltshire, which was almost as dark and depressing as Azkaban itself. Almost.
"Maybe I'm just cursed. Maybe it's all my fault for being born a Malfoy and living up to the wretched name."
A small voice began to whisper in the back of his mind:
"Think again. Would you rather be someone else? A Weasley perhaps? Or a Potter? Or a rotten Mudblood like the Evans clan or the Grangers?"
"No, I don't suppose I would... They do seem to have all the luck though..."
The voice became outraged.
"All the luck? Listen to yourself Lucius... You're the rich one, you're the popular one, you're the one with a doting wife and son..."
Lucius raked his mind, trying to shake out the arguing voice in his head.
"Doting eh? So doting they don't even visit? I haven't had a single word from them... Not a word..."
"Who cares?" Came the voice. Lucius knew it was his own drawling voice that overtook him at most public occasions. He couldn't help the spite from displaying itself. Or the malice and jealousy rearing their ugly heads. "Did I hear you right?" The voice drawled. "Jealousy? What exactly do those blood-traitors have that you don't?"
The cold Azkaban cell was breezy, even on these summer nights. That's what he got for being out in the middle of the ocean. The cold wind blew a few strands of perfect white-blond hair over his eyes. He put his head in his hands, pushing the hairs back.
"Happiness..." He told the voice.
Of course, he usually listened to the voice in his head. The human mind is a marvellous thing. Especially when you can tap into other people's. Being a Legimens had helped him a lot over the years. Not that he couldn't intimidate people in other ways... That voice in his head, the one that helped him on his way to greatness, the one he always thought of as undoubtedly right.
But the voice wasn't right this time.
"Just this once, you're wrong..." He told himself. "Hear me? You are wrong and that's that..."
Just this once he was wrong. Just this once he would cut himself a little slack. Just this once he'd admit he was unhappy...
"Well," said the voice, "there's a first time for everything..."
Thank you for reading, please review! :D