There are a dozen portraits in Lucius’ parlor; and each one has a dozen stories Lucius knows. As a child, their lives were his bedtime stories and he memorized each tale as if they were fantasy- like Merlin himself. He can tell you it all, point to a picture and he’ll tell you who they were and why.
The Malfoy family has been a constant force in England for centuries- a descendant of the Founders themselves. They’ve built up the country, have suffered in want and flourished in wealth like England himself.
They can tell the stories themselves if they want: all except Eadric and his silent picture; those who were Headmasters, and womanizers, those who ran Gringotts, and those who gambled their fortune to almost ruin. There were champions of progress adoring the walls, great-grandfathers and uncles who charted treaties, fathers and sons who waged wars. Each one of them have the same excuse for whatever they did- be it great or terrible.
They were Malfoy.
There are times when Lucius can walk into this room and wear that pride like a bird’s plumage; where he is every bit their son, and their heir, the good and the bad. There are times when he wonders what his son, his great grandchildren will say when they view his portrait and what little additions will adorn the walls then. He thinks- only fleetingly, however- about the brand on his arm- and wonders what history will say.
And usually, the private joke that plays in his head is enough to calm his fears, or humor his mood; they will say he is Malfoy.
What else?
Lucius Malfoy
Harry Potter
237
The Malfoy family has been a constant force in England for centuries- a descendant of the Founders themselves. They’ve built up the country, have suffered in want and flourished in wealth like England himself.
They can tell the stories themselves if they want: all except Eadric and his silent picture; those who were Headmasters, and womanizers, those who ran Gringotts, and those who gambled their fortune to almost ruin. There were champions of progress adoring the walls, great-grandfathers and uncles who charted treaties, fathers and sons who waged wars. Each one of them have the same excuse for whatever they did- be it great or terrible.
They were Malfoy.
There are times when Lucius can walk into this room and wear that pride like a bird’s plumage; where he is every bit their son, and their heir, the good and the bad. There are times when he wonders what his son, his great grandchildren will say when they view his portrait and what little additions will adorn the walls then. He thinks- only fleetingly, however- about the brand on his arm- and wonders what history will say.
And usually, the private joke that plays in his head is enough to calm his fears, or humor his mood; they will say he is Malfoy.
What else?
Lucius Malfoy
Harry Potter
237
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