The shadows flickered on the wall, and were gone the moment he focused his eyes on them. Just outside his vision they danced, like ghosts in the night.
If he closed his eyes he could see them more clearly, but every time he did just that, closed his eyes, he would open them again to avoid the shadows, thick as mist they were, creeping over him, eating away at what little he had left of his mind.
The darkness around him were all consuming but for a small window on the wall letting in a glimpse of moonlight, bright enough for him to see the outline of his hands if he held them up.
The rest of his room was drowning in darkness. He always thought of is as "his room", not wanting to admit to himself what it really was. At least not yet, not until he had to. Although that moment of truth grew closer by the second, that much he knew.
He willed himself not to think of the end just yet. Instead he thought of his wife, so beautiful and perfect. Their first kiss, how shy and sweet it had been. Those days were long gone, a time where everything had been easier, and most of his mistakes still lay ahead of him.
He thought about his son next, how promising life had been at the time. Mistakes had been made, but he had yet to taste the bitterness of their consequences. He had felt so powerful for so many years, unstoppable, unbeatable. He now wondered how he could have been so blind.
He heard noises nearby, and let out a shallow breath as they passed his door. Just a few more minutes he hoped.
He was running out of time, and he had to start admitting his mistakes, if only to himself. He once again forced himself away from the present and into the sanctuary of his memories.
He had done so many wrongs, he had so many regrets. He regretted his choices, he regretted his actions, and he regretted his parents, his heritage, his friends, his hunger for power and money. He regretted his intimacy with darkness.
His whole life he had danced with darkness, and he had to admit to himself, it was almost too fitting that the kiss of darkness would be his end too. It was sweet irony and he deserved it, he almost needed it.
He looked at his hands, even in this darkness he could almost make out the snake, twisting itself around his forearm, crawling under the skin like something living. He had hoped it would pale and die after its master did. But the creature seemed to be living of his life, eating at his lifespan. He wondered if the thing, like him, knew it was soon to die, that there were only minutes left before it all would end.
Did it know it was about to die? Did it care? Was it ready for it? Was he ready?
He could hear the noises again, and this time it was him they came for. He was next in line. They would pick him up from where he lay on the floor in his cell, for he could admit it now, it was a cell. They would pick him up and his fate would be sealed with the kiss of darkness.
Yes, Lucius Malfoy knew what lay before him, but he was not afraid.
Not as they dragged him before the beast, not as it lowered its hood.
Lucius Malfoy regretted his sins, he knew he had done wrong. But when the moment came he also knew the thing would be gone with him. It would no longer crawl and twist under his skin, nor would it look alive. When his own eyes would close, the tattoo would finally pale and die too.