One of my friends told me she could never write an angsty Lucius Malfoy fic because she didn't feel sympathy towards him. So I took it upon myself to see if I could make her.
Disclaimer: Lucius isn't mine regretfully.
High up on the 7th floor balcony of the elaborate Malfoy manor, Lucius Malfoy was spread out across an long bench. His arm carelessly drooped over the side of the bench, finger dangling.
He lay as if entranced by a deep sleep, eyes open but glazed over.
As he laid there, staring up blankly into the sky, thoughts of what his life had been poured into his head like rain.
Surrounded daily by dozens of people, in a house most could never even dream of, he still had felt more alone and vulnerable than ever.
Dark thoughs, emitted by Lord Voldemort, had slowly begun taking over his normal train of thinking. He never admited it to anyone else, but the thought of Voldemort completely succumbing him to darkness scared him.
Night after night, he'd sat alone in his study, afraid of sleeping. Afraid that if he fell asleep, the dark thoughts would take over, and he'd never awake from the horrible nightmare that he would cause.
He'd made far too many mistakes in his life on his rise to power.. Mistakes that have haunted him no matter what he does, preventing him from ever being truly happy.
A soft breeze drifted over his ivory skin, sending locks of platinum hair across his face.
It was his own fault he was so alone and miserable. Even his own wife and child avoided him. It'd been such a long time since he actually had a conversation with someone..
It was too late now to change anything. Voldemort had his plans. Plans he'd known deep down that whatever happened, he surely would either not survive, or be left in a world full of darkness and chaos.
His life had no meaning anymore. He'd never fully regained the part of him he lost at Azkaban.
Sounds of footsteps and screaming filled his ears. Not that he cared now. He was too far gone for caring.
He felt his body being lifted from the bench and placed onto another. He felt as he was carried off into the manor. He saw things rushing past him. He saw the people carrying him off.
But they'll never get him now. Not at where he was. He'd escaped.
Disclaimer: Lucius isn't mine regretfully.
High up on the 7th floor balcony of the elaborate Malfoy manor, Lucius Malfoy was spread out across an long bench. His arm carelessly drooped over the side of the bench, finger dangling.
He lay as if entranced by a deep sleep, eyes open but glazed over.
As he laid there, staring up blankly into the sky, thoughts of what his life had been poured into his head like rain.
Surrounded daily by dozens of people, in a house most could never even dream of, he still had felt more alone and vulnerable than ever.
Dark thoughs, emitted by Lord Voldemort, had slowly begun taking over his normal train of thinking. He never admited it to anyone else, but the thought of Voldemort completely succumbing him to darkness scared him.
Night after night, he'd sat alone in his study, afraid of sleeping. Afraid that if he fell asleep, the dark thoughts would take over, and he'd never awake from the horrible nightmare that he would cause.
He'd made far too many mistakes in his life on his rise to power.. Mistakes that have haunted him no matter what he does, preventing him from ever being truly happy.
A soft breeze drifted over his ivory skin, sending locks of platinum hair across his face.
It was his own fault he was so alone and miserable. Even his own wife and child avoided him. It'd been such a long time since he actually had a conversation with someone..
It was too late now to change anything. Voldemort had his plans. Plans he'd known deep down that whatever happened, he surely would either not survive, or be left in a world full of darkness and chaos.
His life had no meaning anymore. He'd never fully regained the part of him he lost at Azkaban.
Sounds of footsteps and screaming filled his ears. Not that he cared now. He was too far gone for caring.
He felt his body being lifted from the bench and placed onto another. He felt as he was carried off into the manor. He saw things rushing past him. He saw the people carrying him off.
But they'll never get him now. Not at where he was. He'd escaped.