Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.
Written for the One Character Competition using the following list of prompts.
A story that spans over 70 years of your character's life.
Title - Amongst The Flowers.
Your Character is dealing with a family tragedy.
Cerulean / Code / Childhood home.
Amongst The Flowers
His robes flapped around his knees as he ran around, his endless energy fuelling him as he twisted and twirled around his father's legs.
"Lucius, calm down," Abraxas murmured, running a hand through his son's hair as the little boy ran past. "Come, sit among the flowers with me," he added, gesturing his son over to the bench.
Lucius pouted for a moment before following his Father, raising a hand to clutch at the larger one being offered to him. Abraxas led them both to the bench, stepping carefully to ensure he didn't catch any of the vibrant flower beds.
They settled onto the bench, Lucius looking up at his father, waiting for story time to begin. This was a ritual, one they'd followed since Lucius was old enough to toddle around the Manor after his father, clinging to the bottom of his robes.
"Where did we leave off last time, Son?" Abraxas asked, knowing exactly where he'd left, but testing to see if his son remembered.
A short attention span was a frailty of childhood, but Abraxas was almost positive that Lucius would remember.
"Great, Great, Grandfather Septimus, Father," Lucius replied promptly, already hanging off his father's every word.
"Good lad," Abraxas replied with a small smile. With a deep breath, and a brief clearing of his throat, Abraxas launched into the continuing tale of the Malfoy family tree, enjoying telling his son his heritage.
Seventeen year old Lucius collapsed against the bench, thankful for the freedom that solitude afforded him. He'd fought his grief all day, all week if he was being honest with himself, and as the tears finally fell unchecked down his face, he felt the weight he'd been carrying lessen slightly.
"I miss you, Father," he told the flowers quietly. "It's… You weren't done teaching me. I'm not ready to be the head of the family. I still need you."
Silence answered him, as he'd known it would. He sat there until his eyes dried up on their own, until he regained control of his emotions, and straightened himself out.
The wake of his father's funeral was awaiting his arrival, and he knew he must be impeccable. His father would expect nothing less of him.
Standing from the bench, a sudden wind swept around him, and a ghost of a familiar voice whispered, "You'll never be alone, when you sit amongst out flowers, Lucius."