Post by LUCIUS ABRAXAS MALFOY on Feb 6, 2014 3:21:07 GMT -5
lucius abraxas malfoy
CANON OR ORIGINAL: canon
AGE: seventy-nine
FACE CLAIM: donald sutherland
YEAR: graduated
HOUSE: slytherin alumni
OCCUPATION: map maker
BLOOD TYPE: pureblood
WAND TYPE: fifteen inches, dragon heartstring, elm
PETS: n/a
ABILITIES: non-verbal and wandless
freestyle
They say you did not shed a tear on the day you were born, but the skies did. It rained so heavily that autumn day. Your father considered it to be the Malfoy's toughness and he claimed that you would make him proud. You grew up in the loving arms of your mother and the lessons from your strict father. Unlike most children, you were taught not to give out your aplogies too easily – in fact, you should never give out an apology at all, unless it was to your parents. A man with great power does not apologize – he chooses to reject or accept apologies. At the age of five, you were demanded to understand your position and your status in wizarding society. Power and wealth must never come second to the trivial feelings of mortal creatures. Oh you are indeed a mortal, too. Death is unavoidable in your case. Yet there are things that cannot be killed, one of which was the name of your own and what you have to it. Abraxas pointed out that he wanted the name Malfoy and their pure bloodline to become enternal. And you were told to want the same.
Your eleventh birthday was something grand. Abraxas held a party, which must have been as huge as his own wedding party, to celebrate an important turn in your life: you would go to Hogwarts that year. The lobby was filled with guests and house-elves were rushing around doing their jobs, making sure that there was no room for error. Piles of presents got taller and taller each time a new guest walked through the huge main door. You, in the new clothes your grandmother had ordered specially for you, tried your make your father proud by maturely greeting guests and making wise comments on politics, which you knew so little about. Most people made believe that they astonished by your words. You thought so, too. If only you had heard what they said behind your back. But for your last name, it would not have taken them a second thought to ignore your existence. If only you had heard what they called you. Pathetic.
That September, you kissed your mother goodbye and got on the train to Hogwarts. It was on the train that you first saw her. She was with her friends, chatting about how excited she was about the first day at Hogwarts. Now you can no longer remember her name but swear to your father's soul, you have never forgtten her face, her smile and the way her eyes lit up. She brought light to the darkest corners and hope to the most despair souls in a way no one could. On the train, you only dared to watch her from distance and soon enough you realized her image was stuck in your head. As the first year kids queuing outside the Great Hall, looking forward to the Sorting Ceremony, you approached her. She was so graceful that every word she said made your heart melt even without your notice. You and her discussed the weather, the nervousness of a first year, the last summer you and her had spent with family. In the name of Merlin, you swear you have never seen anyone as lively as she was. For once, you felt so...alive. You did not just exist. You lived, too.
Your name was called before hers. It came as no surprise to you that you were sorted in Slytherin, like all of the Malfoy's before you. Ridiculous as it might have been but you could not help crossing your fingers when it was her turn. You pretended to be utterly nonchalant about the result, but your heart was screaming for her to get into Slytherin, too – to be right next to you. “GRYFFINDOR!” The Sorting Hat shouted without a few minutes considering. You saw her waving at you before she ran to her new housemates. It was set in stone – you were the snake and she was the lioness. You thought that it was over, that you had no chance to just be friends with her. So you left without saying goodbye. Nevertheless, much to your surprise, you found her standing outside your common room the next morning, waiting to go to the first class with you. You remember laughing all the way there with her by your side. It was the beginning of a cold winter, but you knew you could not have felt warmer than you did when you were with her.
“What do your parents do?” You curiously asked her in the Spring of your fifth year at Hogwarts, when you and her were lying next to each other under the clear skies. Your curiosity was utterly understandable because she never talked about either her heritage or her parentage. She said nothing so you asked again, with slight impatience in your voice. She slowly sat up and you did the same, only more quickly. “My father and mother are not like yours.” Her answer was sweet and short. You intended to dig deeper into the subject but you were instantly distracted by a sudden kiss she placed on your lips. That Spring, flowers were not the only thing that bloomed and plants were not the only thing that grew.
“I don't know what you're talking about.” You found yourself shouting at your own father a year later. The man came closer to you with his face like the one of devil. Placing both hands on your shoulders, he shook consciousness out of you. “Wake up, brainless dreamer. When exactly did that little liar tell you she was a pureblood?” His eyes stared into yours as thought he wanted to read your soul. You could not answer him, simply because there was no answer. She never told you that she was a pureblood. In fact, she never told you about herself. All she told you was vague visions of a happy future for you and her. Happy endings and many many offsprings. Nonsense. Everything became nonsense. You felt betrayed. And above all, you felt regretful that you had let yourself fall for her. They said first love was always bitter. You never expected the bitterness to be of betrayal.
She cried and tried to explained. She told you she loved you too much to let you go. She said that she had feared you would leave because of her bloodline. The idea of losing you scard her to death. And you paid her sincerity with your cruel nonchalance. The days of you and her became something sharp in your heart, piercing it unceremoniously each day. Eventually, she questioned you. “So it is that important to you? Where I come from and who I am?” Her words, they cut like knives.
“Yes.”
Just like that, you walked away, from her, from your happiness, from your remedy, from the one and only love you have ever known in your life. The door of the carefree days closed behind you. You told yourself to toughen up, straighten up and stop dreaming of stupid fantasies such as true love. Thorns started to grow along the way to your heart, which were ready to hurt anyone that dared to take a chance.
You made your father proud, or so you thought. Standing alone among the graduates, you looked around, trying to find a familiar figure. Some strangers came over and congratulated you on your excellent results. You did not even bother to smile at them but kept looking for a face.
Everyone was leaving and he was nowhere to be found. You tried to ignore the pity in people's eyes when they asked if your father was coming. You told them he would come and it was just he was busy with something at home, or at the Ministry, or in the Headmaster's office. You told them all the places you could come up with. How pathetic of you, Lucius.
Because Abraxas never showed up.
Later that day, you found him at home, sitting with the Black family, discussing something much more important than your inconsequential graduation: your marriage.
Narcissa Black came into your life like a breeze. She was pleasant but nothing special. And more importantly, she was not her - the woman you could not get out of your mind. Narcissa was absolutely obedient and proper like every young lady who grew up in a fine pureblood should have been. The serenity in her eyes was so different from the fire you had seen in the other eyes long ago. Her pride, her manners, her wisdom was beyond expectation. The thought of her becoming the mother of your children set your mother's mind at ease, but not yours.
You told yourself to get used to her presence in your life, to learn to respect and love her. On sunny days, you and her usually had a private picnic on a hill or in the countryside, away from both families, although no doubt at all that Abraxas would not let you get out of his sight so easily. For most of the time, you talked to her about the weather or the views. Honestly you did expect her to get bored, but she did not. In fact, she responded with such inbelievable enthusiasm regardless the subjects you brought up. She told you it was nice to spend time with you. To your mind, it was nothing better than a white lie. However, when a lie is spoken too many times, someone will start to believe it. Slightly - very slightly - you opened up to her.
When the weather and the views were no longer your concerns in every conversation with her, your wedding was around the corner. It was irriating to feel so nonchalant about your own big day. But what could you do? Run away?
No, you was not that insane. And it would not be something Abraxas could take pride in.
Time flew. You never had enough of it to count it. You just knew you woke up in a beautiful morning of summer. On that day, big news came to you. A new life was going to be given. A child was going to be born. A child of your own. Your head went dizzy on hearing the news from your wife. For the first time in your life, you experienced a kind of inexplicable mixed feelings. But it was a good thing. Everything was good. Because you were becoming a father.
The first time you held your son in your arms was something unforgettable. Your hands were shaking but you could swear you would never let him fall. He was so tiny. He looked at you with a smile. The boy had your eyes. "His name is Draco." You announced with pride filling your voice. You knew the child would grow up strong and he would make you proud, like you had made Abraxas proud.
Darkness fell upon the wizarding world for the first time only a few months after you and Narcissa were wed and Abraxas died. Lord Voldermort was recruiting members for his army. The Death Eater organisation was formed. Narcissa hoped to remain indifferent and carry on her life in peace. But you refused to satisfy her wish. "We will be granted power - more power than be ever imagine." You told her. Power is tasty. Nevertheless, you could not help feeling the nonchalance on your tongue. It did not please you at all watching the people suffering. Not that you cared or spared any thought for them. You plainly did not know where you stood. Not that you wanted to betray the Dark Lord. It was just you was unsure whether serving him was your desire or it was nothing more than a habit - a habit of doing what you thought would please your father.
But you could not turn back anymore. It was too late.
However, that uncertainty did not happen to you again the second time when Voldemort returned to the wizarding world. The Dark Lord saught your assistance again. The journey with darkness taught you about so many things in life, including the chill in Azkaban. You started to taste sweetness in serving power, if not being a slave for it. It was undoubtedly very extraordinary to be feared. Respects should only be for the faint-hearted.
But, the moment you began to think surrendering to the evil was a wise thing, you realized it was a terrible mistake. Your child - your only and most loved child - was asked to throw himself in the battle. Narcissa feared for her son even more than she feared for herself. It hurt you and her so badly to give Draco words of encouragement when the boy was offered a position among the Death Eaters.
You wanted to turn back. But it was too late.
The war ended with the victory of Harry Potter and his friends. And you were only a coward who ditched the scene to save your family and yourself. But you never regret doing that. History is written by living people, not dead ones. So long as you lived, you would still have a chance to get back what you had lost.
You made an attempt to pull yourself together after the battle of Hogwarts. You refused to work at the Ministry for the sake of your pride. Instead, you chose to give all of your attention and passion to the maps. As years went by, people started to forget about the past. Now, you are not known as a death eater anymore, but one of the two greatest map makers in the wizarding world ever since. Not that you really need the job to make a living. It is just you want something for yourself - a talent, a skill or an interest - that cannot be taken away by anyone or another Dark Lord.
Draco has saved the reputation of the name Malfoy by becoming the respectable Minister of Magic. The boy got married and have a child, just like you back in years ago. Scorpius, your grandson, has your eyes, too. But the boy has something else in his look - something so fierce.
The boy is nothing like you and Draco, though he is the splitting image of his father. And the differences about the child cause your worries. More than anyone, you fear that the peace your family is living in is just temporary. It is the calm before storm.
You have sworn to yourself - you will not let anyone destroy or take away what is yours again. At the age of seventy-nine, there is hardly a thing to regret. You have tasted it all - from sweetness to bitterness. What could surprise you again?
Your eleventh birthday was something grand. Abraxas held a party, which must have been as huge as his own wedding party, to celebrate an important turn in your life: you would go to Hogwarts that year. The lobby was filled with guests and house-elves were rushing around doing their jobs, making sure that there was no room for error. Piles of presents got taller and taller each time a new guest walked through the huge main door. You, in the new clothes your grandmother had ordered specially for you, tried your make your father proud by maturely greeting guests and making wise comments on politics, which you knew so little about. Most people made believe that they astonished by your words. You thought so, too. If only you had heard what they said behind your back. But for your last name, it would not have taken them a second thought to ignore your existence. If only you had heard what they called you. Pathetic.
That September, you kissed your mother goodbye and got on the train to Hogwarts. It was on the train that you first saw her. She was with her friends, chatting about how excited she was about the first day at Hogwarts. Now you can no longer remember her name but swear to your father's soul, you have never forgtten her face, her smile and the way her eyes lit up. She brought light to the darkest corners and hope to the most despair souls in a way no one could. On the train, you only dared to watch her from distance and soon enough you realized her image was stuck in your head. As the first year kids queuing outside the Great Hall, looking forward to the Sorting Ceremony, you approached her. She was so graceful that every word she said made your heart melt even without your notice. You and her discussed the weather, the nervousness of a first year, the last summer you and her had spent with family. In the name of Merlin, you swear you have never seen anyone as lively as she was. For once, you felt so...alive. You did not just exist. You lived, too.
Your name was called before hers. It came as no surprise to you that you were sorted in Slytherin, like all of the Malfoy's before you. Ridiculous as it might have been but you could not help crossing your fingers when it was her turn. You pretended to be utterly nonchalant about the result, but your heart was screaming for her to get into Slytherin, too – to be right next to you. “GRYFFINDOR!” The Sorting Hat shouted without a few minutes considering. You saw her waving at you before she ran to her new housemates. It was set in stone – you were the snake and she was the lioness. You thought that it was over, that you had no chance to just be friends with her. So you left without saying goodbye. Nevertheless, much to your surprise, you found her standing outside your common room the next morning, waiting to go to the first class with you. You remember laughing all the way there with her by your side. It was the beginning of a cold winter, but you knew you could not have felt warmer than you did when you were with her.
“What do your parents do?” You curiously asked her in the Spring of your fifth year at Hogwarts, when you and her were lying next to each other under the clear skies. Your curiosity was utterly understandable because she never talked about either her heritage or her parentage. She said nothing so you asked again, with slight impatience in your voice. She slowly sat up and you did the same, only more quickly. “My father and mother are not like yours.” Her answer was sweet and short. You intended to dig deeper into the subject but you were instantly distracted by a sudden kiss she placed on your lips. That Spring, flowers were not the only thing that bloomed and plants were not the only thing that grew.
“I don't know what you're talking about.” You found yourself shouting at your own father a year later. The man came closer to you with his face like the one of devil. Placing both hands on your shoulders, he shook consciousness out of you. “Wake up, brainless dreamer. When exactly did that little liar tell you she was a pureblood?” His eyes stared into yours as thought he wanted to read your soul. You could not answer him, simply because there was no answer. She never told you that she was a pureblood. In fact, she never told you about herself. All she told you was vague visions of a happy future for you and her. Happy endings and many many offsprings. Nonsense. Everything became nonsense. You felt betrayed. And above all, you felt regretful that you had let yourself fall for her. They said first love was always bitter. You never expected the bitterness to be of betrayal.
She cried and tried to explained. She told you she loved you too much to let you go. She said that she had feared you would leave because of her bloodline. The idea of losing you scard her to death. And you paid her sincerity with your cruel nonchalance. The days of you and her became something sharp in your heart, piercing it unceremoniously each day. Eventually, she questioned you. “So it is that important to you? Where I come from and who I am?” Her words, they cut like knives.
“Yes.”
Just like that, you walked away, from her, from your happiness, from your remedy, from the one and only love you have ever known in your life. The door of the carefree days closed behind you. You told yourself to toughen up, straighten up and stop dreaming of stupid fantasies such as true love. Thorns started to grow along the way to your heart, which were ready to hurt anyone that dared to take a chance.
You made your father proud, or so you thought. Standing alone among the graduates, you looked around, trying to find a familiar figure. Some strangers came over and congratulated you on your excellent results. You did not even bother to smile at them but kept looking for a face.
Everyone was leaving and he was nowhere to be found. You tried to ignore the pity in people's eyes when they asked if your father was coming. You told them he would come and it was just he was busy with something at home, or at the Ministry, or in the Headmaster's office. You told them all the places you could come up with. How pathetic of you, Lucius.
Because Abraxas never showed up.
Later that day, you found him at home, sitting with the Black family, discussing something much more important than your inconsequential graduation: your marriage.
Narcissa Black came into your life like a breeze. She was pleasant but nothing special. And more importantly, she was not her - the woman you could not get out of your mind. Narcissa was absolutely obedient and proper like every young lady who grew up in a fine pureblood should have been. The serenity in her eyes was so different from the fire you had seen in the other eyes long ago. Her pride, her manners, her wisdom was beyond expectation. The thought of her becoming the mother of your children set your mother's mind at ease, but not yours.
You told yourself to get used to her presence in your life, to learn to respect and love her. On sunny days, you and her usually had a private picnic on a hill or in the countryside, away from both families, although no doubt at all that Abraxas would not let you get out of his sight so easily. For most of the time, you talked to her about the weather or the views. Honestly you did expect her to get bored, but she did not. In fact, she responded with such inbelievable enthusiasm regardless the subjects you brought up. She told you it was nice to spend time with you. To your mind, it was nothing better than a white lie. However, when a lie is spoken too many times, someone will start to believe it. Slightly - very slightly - you opened up to her.
When the weather and the views were no longer your concerns in every conversation with her, your wedding was around the corner. It was irriating to feel so nonchalant about your own big day. But what could you do? Run away?
No, you was not that insane. And it would not be something Abraxas could take pride in.
Time flew. You never had enough of it to count it. You just knew you woke up in a beautiful morning of summer. On that day, big news came to you. A new life was going to be given. A child was going to be born. A child of your own. Your head went dizzy on hearing the news from your wife. For the first time in your life, you experienced a kind of inexplicable mixed feelings. But it was a good thing. Everything was good. Because you were becoming a father.
The first time you held your son in your arms was something unforgettable. Your hands were shaking but you could swear you would never let him fall. He was so tiny. He looked at you with a smile. The boy had your eyes. "His name is Draco." You announced with pride filling your voice. You knew the child would grow up strong and he would make you proud, like you had made Abraxas proud.
Darkness fell upon the wizarding world for the first time only a few months after you and Narcissa were wed and Abraxas died. Lord Voldermort was recruiting members for his army. The Death Eater organisation was formed. Narcissa hoped to remain indifferent and carry on her life in peace. But you refused to satisfy her wish. "We will be granted power - more power than be ever imagine." You told her. Power is tasty. Nevertheless, you could not help feeling the nonchalance on your tongue. It did not please you at all watching the people suffering. Not that you cared or spared any thought for them. You plainly did not know where you stood. Not that you wanted to betray the Dark Lord. It was just you was unsure whether serving him was your desire or it was nothing more than a habit - a habit of doing what you thought would please your father.
But you could not turn back anymore. It was too late.
However, that uncertainty did not happen to you again the second time when Voldemort returned to the wizarding world. The Dark Lord saught your assistance again. The journey with darkness taught you about so many things in life, including the chill in Azkaban. You started to taste sweetness in serving power, if not being a slave for it. It was undoubtedly very extraordinary to be feared. Respects should only be for the faint-hearted.
But, the moment you began to think surrendering to the evil was a wise thing, you realized it was a terrible mistake. Your child - your only and most loved child - was asked to throw himself in the battle. Narcissa feared for her son even more than she feared for herself. It hurt you and her so badly to give Draco words of encouragement when the boy was offered a position among the Death Eaters.
You wanted to turn back. But it was too late.
The war ended with the victory of Harry Potter and his friends. And you were only a coward who ditched the scene to save your family and yourself. But you never regret doing that. History is written by living people, not dead ones. So long as you lived, you would still have a chance to get back what you had lost.
You made an attempt to pull yourself together after the battle of Hogwarts. You refused to work at the Ministry for the sake of your pride. Instead, you chose to give all of your attention and passion to the maps. As years went by, people started to forget about the past. Now, you are not known as a death eater anymore, but one of the two greatest map makers in the wizarding world ever since. Not that you really need the job to make a living. It is just you want something for yourself - a talent, a skill or an interest - that cannot be taken away by anyone or another Dark Lord.
Draco has saved the reputation of the name Malfoy by becoming the respectable Minister of Magic. The boy got married and have a child, just like you back in years ago. Scorpius, your grandson, has your eyes, too. But the boy has something else in his look - something so fierce.
The boy is nothing like you and Draco, though he is the splitting image of his father. And the differences about the child cause your worries. More than anyone, you fear that the peace your family is living in is just temporary. It is the calm before storm.
You have sworn to yourself - you will not let anyone destroy or take away what is yours again. At the age of seventy-nine, there is hardly a thing to regret. You have tasted it all - from sweetness to bitterness. What could surprise you again?
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HEY MY NAME IS ALIAS HERE, AND I ALSO PLAY OTHER CHARACTERS. I FOUND THE SITE THROUGH MEANS HERE.
TEMPLATE BY ELIZA @ SHADOWPLAY & RCR