𝐀𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ━━ D. Malfoy ( EDITING)

𝐥𝐱𝐢𝐯. 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF DEATH, WAR, VIOLENCE AND TRAUMA

Saturday, September 7th:

It was a harsh autumn evening.

Septrim Seramore strolled through the gates of the cemetery where his best friend lay to rest.

A year and a couple of days since Abraxas Malfoy passed away and a year since he was buried in a grave, leaving Septrim nearly broken.

The death of Ezekiel shattered his soul, and then to hear his dear ole' braxy had submitted to Dragon pox broke his spirit.

Sucking in a deep breath, he slid his hands into his overcoat pockets and stared ahead at the gravestone.

Abraxas Malfoy
Father, Son, Friend.
"To be insane is to be great."
March 9th 1927 - September 6th 1996

Septrim trailed his hand over the wand engraved into the pristine marble as a lonely tear kissed his cheek.

"Sorry I haven't been around as much Braxy, I had a lot of things on my mind," he apologised and immediately waved his hands, magically cleaning up and dust that appeared on the headstone, "War, pain, you know the classic joys of life," he joked.

Sighing he turned his head to the side and eyed all the other fallen loved ones' graves in despair.

"Sapph wanted to come today, but I just wanted it to be me and you," he confessed, staring blankly ahead. "There's a lot to catch up on, I don't even know where to start."

He settled down on the bench close to his friend's grave, not caring about who it belonged to.

"My granddaughter and your grandson have caused a lot of trouble in the wizarding world," he chuckled, "she planned on taking down Dumbledore and almost succeeded may I add. She didn't deliver the final blow. I'm glad she didn't, I doubt she has it in her, she's not capable of that, well not that. She may act as if she's cold as ice but she's a huge softy. Like you my friend."

Septrim annoyedly took out his glasses, after feeling a huge headache coming on and didn't want to deal with the lecture from his dear wife if he returned squinting like a snake. Even though the glasses improved his sight they never felt right, but he didn't want to take any chances. Something like Dragon pox took his best friend, so he had to be mindful of anything at his age.

Reaching 70 wasn't a big accomplishment when he was losing friends left, right and centre.

Pushing up his glasses, he continued, "Celeste must've told the daily prophet Arty was kidnapped, clever thing. Protecting her daughter... all a good parent wants to do is to protect their children," his tone saddened towards the end, "I'm just glad my little princess is alright. There's another war, we've known this was in the works for years, yet we just hoped it wouldn't happen. How absurd."

Septrim wanted his kin to have a self-fulfilling life, grow old and die, but that's just too much to ask for.

"Ophelia sent Blaise off to Hogwarts again. I don't know what she's thinking. I suppose she wants him to act normal, but he's a wizard with the blood of a Seramore and a Zabini, how the hell is that going to happen? He's a bubbling ball of fire waiting to spread his flames. Little inferno."

Memories flooded his mind with images of his old school years.

"At least they have Mente Striae ay? To keep them levelheaded. It helped us most of the time. I'm still surprised we didn't get caught going in, I mean we weren't the most subtle group of boys," a laugh escaped him, "Headmaster Dippet was losing his mind whenever we went missing. The old man was befuddled."