Name: Lucius Malfoy
Nicknames: None known
Birthdate: Not known
Appearance: Long shoulder length platinum blonde hair, cold blue eyes, expensive clothes
Personality: Cold, controlling and manipulative, sarcastic, sadistic.
Likes: Purebloods, power, expensive clothes
Dislikes: Mudbloods, muggles
Projected profession: Various projects
Attitude towards work: Takes it in his stride, convinces other people to do it.
Family History: Engaged to Narcissa, from a long line of pure blooded Malfoys.
Roleplaying sample: (This is a bit long.)
Thunder boomed overhead as a crested and once wax-sealed parchment fell crumpled to the ground. His mother. His mother was dead and his Father had only just decided to tell him. His son. Her son. The funeral was next week apparently; and at the moment the owner of the now crumpled parchment felt number than ever. Leaning forward and placing his heads in his hands and dry sobbed; he'd long since abandoned tears. They were another sign of weakness, alongside emotions. Rage, hatred and distaste were the only emotions half decent of being shown through that mask this figure wore. Shoulder=length hair, the colour undistinguishable in the near darkness spilled forth over hunched shoulders as the figure sat on his bed, retaining his mask yet grieving desperately inside. They said the best way to grieve was to let it all out, but he couldn’t do that. As much as he wanted too, he knew he'd never find a place private enough to do so. Even here at Hogwarts, especially here at Hogwarts. A boarding school, one was lucky enough to keep a secret for more than two weeks let alone find any privacy unless you wished to go out of your way for it, and he simply would not. Why should he? People should be making areas quiet and secluded from the world for him right now. The figure soon regained his composition and glanced at a fire nearby; one of the few bedrooms with a fire seeing as the dormitories were located in the depths of the dungeon. Yes this figure was a Slytherin; a seventh year Slytherin too.
Have you guessed who it is yet?
Due to complete his wizarding education and enter the wizarding world a fully fledged wizard; of course a job and way of life had already been sorted for him; had been since he'd started as a mere first year. The joys of influential parents and heritage’s, he was proud of his pureblood family unlike some who attended the school. not one to name names but Sirius Black came to min; the first Black in Gryffindor. He'd heard they'd disowned him the next day; and rightly so. Couldn't have a ''black' sheep' in the family now could they? It is rather differ cult not to make an intended pun whilst saying that well-known phrase. Picking up the now crumpled parchment, he threw it into the fire vehemently; a few choice profanities escaping his lips as he did. His mother; kind and sweet, how'd she' ever managed to live with his father; he'd never know. Him and his beatings, him and his 'long nights' at the ministry. Pfft. He was more than likely been playing away, the -censored-. Slamming his fist into the wall just over the mantle piece, sending vibrations across the wall and unhooking a mirror from it's hook, causing it to fall and hit the ground and smash into a few pieces, some falling out of the frame and leaving a few inviting pieces to reflect the flames. What would it be like to let it all go? Grasping a small piece, commotion sounded near the door as it opened slightly; obviously to see if he was ok. Roaring to get out and stalking towards the door with amazing grace for one so angry, he snarled at the intruders and slammed the door, his palm tightening over the glass shard, drawing blood as he slammed it into the door and puling it out again an repeatedly stabbing the door before pulling away, leaving the bloodied shard half embedded into the fine mahogany door. Glancing down surprisedly at his palm, he blinked; he hadn't even felt it butcher his pale skin. Grabbing his wand from his pocket, he muttered a spell and the wound cleaned itself, before he stalked over to his bed again and grabbed a white handkerchief from his bedside table, tying it tightly enough to draw blood again. Not that he cared.
Still not guessed?
Growling to himself, h grabbed his cloak from his trunk at the end of his bed. Fine black velvet with silver trim, pulling it on, his opened his now dead door with such force, it slammed against the opposite wall and the sound reverberated for a few seconds before dying down. Stalking vehemently up the stairs, he gladly noticed everyone had hidden in anticipation of his arrival, no one to ask if he was ok. Then again after that performance mere moments ago he doubted any would even approach him for a few days. Powerful and ruthless, was this rather angry wizard as he stalked out of the common room, slamming the portrait after him, causing it to splutter it's complaints and he whirled around to face it, and looked it directly in it's eyes, causing it to gulp and growled 'bite me' before disappearing in a whirl of robes and the like into the darkness of the dungeons. Where was he going? He didn't know, just away from him and people wanting to ask if he was alright, then the clock sounded announcing dinnertime. He could humour himself and sit down right in the middle of the table and how much distance people put between themselves and him. see how the latecomers coped with sitting next to him. A furious him.
One clue; it's not Severus.
Silvery blonde hair spilled over shoulders as Lucius Malfoy. Yes Lucius Malfoy stalked past the Great Hall, lips quirking barely into a smirk as he heard the sighs of relief from the few of the Slytherins coming to eat their dinner. Opening the entrance hall doors, he smirked slightly once again as lightning streaked overhead as he stepped into the pouring rain, immediately making his hair drenched. His supposed pride and joy, funny how rumours spread about even the people, people were most scared of. Muttering incoherent words as thunder rumbled overhead, he thought he'd be alone. No one would stupid enough to follow him would they? Hopefully not that 2nd cousin of his, yes that wretched bloodline traitor was related to him. A Gryffindor related to him of all people. It seemed Malfoys had been marrying into the Black family for some time, his mother had been one and so was his future bride to be, unfortunately was indeed the actual cousin of the despised person. Sirius Black. The worst thing was he actually shared the same blood as it. It didn't even deserve a name anymore. Collapsing against a tree and slowly sliding down it, Lucius sighed. Sometimes he wished he could jus end it all or something. run away to a place the name Malfoy had never been heard, although that thought was appealing on it's own but distinctly impossible. For once he wanted to break the tradition of platinum blonde haired, blue eyed Malfoys and marry a brunette or something or the other. Even then his genes, his chromosomes would win as they would both be blue eyed, blonde haired. Stupid traditions.
And there he sat, soaking wet against a tree, cursing the very existence of his family name.