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Lucius Malfoy (in_deep) wrote in wished,

"Of course they won't be of much aid." The ones Lucius had recognized by name hadn't much to show in the way of abilities, either. "Whatever it is we're being put up to, they'll make a hash of it, strutting around trying to prove themselves. They're children." And one of them was his, even if he wasn't stupid enough to go dashing into harm's way just to make a show. That was nothing he wanted to talk about. "I don't think there can be any stopping them, but I confess - I don't remember being quite so desperate to take up arms, when I was that age. Perhaps that's how I've managed forty-four."

The wine helped, probably. It was certainly bracing, and there was something comforting in knowing one had a bottle to oneself.