Post by Deleted on Jul 3, 2012 8:50:17 GMT -5
WHERE IS MY MIND?
YOUR HEAD WILL COLLAPSE
BUT THERE’S NOTHING IN IT
AND YOU’LL ASK YOURSELF
Early evening brought a begrudging Rodolphus back to the Malfoy manor. Oh the manor was attractive enough certainly, grandiose and impressive with it’s many rooms, tall ceilings and spanning grounds. But having to return here every evening was vastly becoming an intimate torture seemingly aimed just at him. Perhaps rather foolishly he dreamed in Azkaban of being able to return to his own ancestral homestead, reluctantly he’d come to accept it was lost, the corridors no doubt teaming with Auror’s following his escape. He would have to be patient, would have to wait until the Ministry fell and he could reclaim what was rightfully his. Before Azkaban his patience, his ability to play the ‘long game’ had been one of his best assets, fourteen years staring at a cell wall had rather lessened his desire to wait.
Perhaps he might have adjusted better if it were not for the fact the Dark Lord had chosen the Malfoy’s to home their new sanctuary. Lucius had once been a potent ally, perhaps even a friend but any respect he’d held for the pompous blondes had vanished with Azkaban. So few of them had continued with the Dark Lords orders, so few tried everything within their powers to seek him out. The fact that his family alone faced Azkaban in a test of a loyalty was a matter that brought him both considerable pride and unprecedented anger. He’d expected there would be those that ran, those that hid, those he could forgive, it was the number that returned to the Ministry, that claimed their actions had been forced, that no true loyalty had existed and willing chose to take orders from scum that made his teeth grit.
Gravel crunched beneath long footsteps as Rodolphus strode the length of the drive. Dark swamp green eyes casting a murderous glare at the white peacocks that seemed to stop them dead in their cawing. Rodolphus had been one of the most vocal in how annoying the damned noisy creatures were and though his threats had been taken as mostly harmless, it did seem that their numbers were starting to dwindle. Strangely he was not actually the one responsible for that; he had better things to do with his time then chase peacocks around the grounds, still he made a mental note to pass on a bottle of fire whiskey with his compliments when he found the guilty party.
With a shrug he dropped his dark emerald outer robes to the floor of the grand foyer, a house elf quickly scurrying to collect them up and vanish them away. The pathetic creatures had learnt over the last few months not to speak to him, even in greeting unless he addressed them first and he was thankful for the rare silence of the manor. The day had been… taxing, he was in no mood to have to consort with his fellow colleagues the majority of which he found less then enthralling company.
Rodolphus made the same line to the drawing room that he made almost every night. Breaking into the Malfoy’s liquor cabinet had become a regular past time, rummaging to the back and helping himself to the finest of the vintages. The last month had seen an increase in his minor, random acts of terrorism around the manor. It had promptly become a foolish game to keep him entertained on the long sleepless nights when even alcohol could not dull the screams of Azkaban that raged through his mind. He gladly helped himself to the Malfoy’s books, potions and drink regardless of any lock and key that might attempt to halt him. Took a rather cruel pleasure in moving important items from one room to another across the manor. Enjoyed placing several bottles of rare wine infront of his young nephew with a ‘here you go son, have fun’ (though he felt that one was kindness really). Even his usual habits made him a less then desirable house guest, having taken to sleeping during the daylight hours and in any room that happened to be close by, be it a living room, kitchen or someone else’s bed.
Regardless of Lucy’s rather pleasing fall from grace, he had no doubt a confrontation was soon coming and silently delighted in seeing just how far he could push before it erupted. Smashing the rather expensive potions cabinet to steal the fresh batch of polyjuice potion may he admitted have been a little overzealous but it did make for a rather impressive final straw.
Collecting a large bottle of fire whiskey and a glass goblet he retired to the adjacent library. A flick of his wand lighting the several candles scattered around the shelves, orange light falling on a handsome face with high carved cheekbones and a chiselled jaw, though Azkaban’s effects still lingered, his skin a deathly pale pallor, cheeks gaunt and sunken, dark rings surrounding quick, clever eyes. With a languid stretch he retired to one of the plush sofas, collecting a book from the nearest shelf and pouring a large glass of whiskey quite content with his quiet lot for the evening.
As sods law would have it as soon as he was comfortable the door opened again to an all too familiar face. “Lucy.” He greeted with a harsh coldness his fellow death eaters were not normally privy to. Rodolphus was a man of facades, gladly painting a smile to get what he wanted. He was cordial around his colleagues so long as they remained of use and didn’t drastically irk him. In a rather childish manner he turned his attention back to the book in hand as if he had nothing to say to his old friend, when truly this little meeting was long over due.
MALFOY MANOR, 10:00PM, TAG: LUCIUS MALFOY, 963 WORDS, NOTE: He is such a childish dick, do feel free to hit him.
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