A/N:

Written using prompts provided by Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)

Task: To write about someone being sick

Hopscotch Prompt: Abraxas Malfoy

Chocolate Frog: Bronze - Violetta Black (nee Bulstrode) – (Prompts) Violet, Circus, Violent, Fort

Gringotts Prompt Bank: Colours - Violet; Said Words - Grumbled; Instead of Said - Asked

Final Breaths

He lay in his bed, green with illness. His days were numbered and he knew it.

Abraxas coughed feebly as he reached out with a shaking hand for the glass of water that sat on his bedside table. He shivered violently even though the heating in the room was on full blast.

After he had placed the glass back down, he lifted his hand to his face, and felt the many small bumps beneath the palm of his hand and shuddered. He knew that he must look absolutely hideous, and ever since he had contracted dragon pox he hadn't been able to face looking at himself in the mirror. In fact he had gone as far as to remove all mirrors and shiny surfaces from his home the second he had started showing physical symptoms of the disease.

At times, when he was feeling at his lowest, Abraxas couldn't help but wonder if karma was the true reason behind his life threatening illness. Although it had never been proven, he had been a key player in the resignation of the muggle-born scum Minister for Magic Nobby Leach, and he didn't regret it for a single moment, not even now that he was on the brink of death. He, like a number of other like-minded people hadn't been able to stand the circus show that he had been putting on as Minister for Magic: he had been single-handedly making a mockery out of the Ministry and something had to be done.

Abraxas stared at the hideous violet coloured wall that reminded him of his dearly departed wife who had succumbed to a nasty case of Scrofungulus several years ago. As much as he despised the colour and hated to think that it would probably be the last thing he ever saw, he hadn't been able to change the colour of his wall. There was something strangely comforting about the violet wall, something that made him feel less afraid and more embracing of his eventual fate.

He sneezed a violent sneeze and sparks flew in every direction from his nostrils. One spark flew up towards the chandelier and hit it at a weak point on the chain causing it to come crashing down at the foot of his bed with an almighty bang, waking the sleeping infant in the adjacent room.

Footsteps came thundering up the stairs; one set headed in the direction of the crying Draco, and the other set, belonging to his disappointment of a son, came rushing into his room.

"Dad, are you alright?" he asked in a breathless voice.

Abraxas wiped his nose on the bed sheet in front of him since he had run out of tissues nearly two hours ago, and then looked up and his son who was standing there with faux concern written all over his face. He may be old and he may be sick, but Abraxas Malfoy was no fool, he knew that his son was just waiting for him to pop his clogs so that he could inherit Malfoy Manor.

"Of course I'm not alright you fool," Abraxas grumbled at his son. "I'm lying in bed dying of dragon pox. I'm cold, and hungry with a bunged up nose and have you seen me, I'm hideous."

As Abraxas began to cough and splutter some more, Lucius watched on as he gasped for breath, clawing at his neck as he fought to get oxygen to his lungs.

Several rasps later and Abraxas took his final breath, and his disease ridden body lay dead on the four poster bed.

Lucius examined his father lying in the bed, and held his arms out wide as he turned around in his new house, the house that he always imagined as his very own fort when he was younger, and now it was all his.

A/N:

Thoughts, feelings, opinions.

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