Post by Tiberius Malfoy on Oct 3, 2007 17:48:56 GMT -5
One of the few times his father had stopped in lately Tiberius thought to himself that he looked tired and old, though he was only in his late forties. He didn’t look as cold and heartless as he usually did in public. He looked human. Tiberius figured this only those who were int he family would ever see that.
A portrait of his great grandfather stared down at his father’s desk and he could see his father staring at it. He saw him fidget under the stern gaze. Now Abraxas was a powerful wizard – but a good one. He opposed integration with Muggles, but he would never have killed any. He was a peaceful man, but he was imposing. He expected the best of Lucius, the way he had expected the best of Draco, and Draco had expected the best out of himself, and he was sure one day he would expect out of his own son. But maybe their line was really just the line of perfection that danced above their heads.
Maybe that’s the real Malfoy legacy. Not rich wizards who were upstanding members of the community, but rather sons who disappointed their fathers and fathers who expected too much of their sons. It bothered him that he was slowly sliding into this same trap, this way of thinking already. After his father left again, he sat in the foyer and looked up at eighteen generations of scowling Malfoys looking back at him....
A portrait of his great grandfather stared down at his father’s desk and he could see his father staring at it. He saw him fidget under the stern gaze. Now Abraxas was a powerful wizard – but a good one. He opposed integration with Muggles, but he would never have killed any. He was a peaceful man, but he was imposing. He expected the best of Lucius, the way he had expected the best of Draco, and Draco had expected the best out of himself, and he was sure one day he would expect out of his own son. But maybe their line was really just the line of perfection that danced above their heads.
Maybe that’s the real Malfoy legacy. Not rich wizards who were upstanding members of the community, but rather sons who disappointed their fathers and fathers who expected too much of their sons. It bothered him that he was slowly sliding into this same trap, this way of thinking already. After his father left again, he sat in the foyer and looked up at eighteen generations of scowling Malfoys looking back at him....
