(no subject)
I had every intention of tackling my 'To do' list tonight, after a weekend spent rearranging piles of stuff in the wake of the arrival of some new furniture. (Furniture to put things in! It almost looks like a grown-up flat now!) And then I popped over to
malfoy100 to see if this week's challenge had been posted yet, and had to respond.
This is actually a later scene from Bitter Road to Hell, but the rate things are going I don't know if I'll ever get there, and even if I do it'll take a while. So my inclination to hold onto a favourite image that I've carried for almost two years has given way to a sudden need to share it. :)
~ Presentation ~
Lucius cradled his new-born son. At the end of the gallery a tall mirror framed their reflection – one Malfoy portrait among many.
The ancestors were waiting.
He spoke. “Offero Draco Marcellus Valerius Malfoy.”
Silence.
Then a voice, a cool rippling voice that made him blink hard. Not his mother, just a fragment of what she had been…
“Draco,” she murmured. “May you make us proud.”
His son gurgled, and they wound him in words of welcome. Lucius smiled: his line would continue, long after he took his place beside them.
This, the Dark Lord could never understand.
This was immortality.
~ ~ ~
(Seems that almost all my writing at the moment is pulled towards home and family... wonder if the drugs have anything to do with that?)
This is actually a later scene from Bitter Road to Hell, but the rate things are going I don't know if I'll ever get there, and even if I do it'll take a while. So my inclination to hold onto a favourite image that I've carried for almost two years has given way to a sudden need to share it. :)
Lucius cradled his new-born son. At the end of the gallery a tall mirror framed their reflection – one Malfoy portrait among many.
The ancestors were waiting.
He spoke. “Offero Draco Marcellus Valerius Malfoy.”
Silence.
Then a voice, a cool rippling voice that made him blink hard. Not his mother, just a fragment of what she had been…
“Draco,” she murmured. “May you make us proud.”
His son gurgled, and they wound him in words of welcome. Lucius smiled: his line would continue, long after he took his place beside them.
This, the Dark Lord could never understand.
This was immortality.
(Seems that almost all my writing at the moment is pulled towards home and family... wonder if the drugs have anything to do with that?)