So here it is - my first ever attempt at fanfiction. *faints* Please,please, PLEASE review! I'll love you forever!
You know the drill: JK Rowling is god(dess), and I own nothing of her great creation, not even Draco *sigh!*
In other words - don't sue, I'm broke.
Here we go....
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I wake up from the sun streaming through the dorm windows. It's so bright it bleeds through the thick green velvet curtains, and right away I know it's late, because the Slytherin dorms are at the bottom of the south tower, halfway underground. If you look out the windows, your view's half blocked by grass. And if the sun is that bright on the ground . . .
Instinctively, I check the watch that's always on my wrist. It's silver, from Father, since "a Malfoy always keeps track of time - every second can be used to your advantage," as he says. With all the sunlight, I don't need the charm that makes the numbers glow green to read them. It's 8:10. Damn.
I spring-vault from bed and grab for some robes, muttering curses at time, sun, myself, furniture - anything in sight. Mostly myself, though. Why am I so tired all the time? It was like this over summer holidays, but never so bad. This is will be the fourth time I've been late for class in a month. In the old days, I could have just breezed by with a good excuse. Now, I just can't think of anything to say. How do you explain to a teacher that every time someone gives you a 'knowing' look, points at you, whispers about you without bothering to keep their voice down, you just want to hex them into oozing powder and fall asleep right there? At least if someone sends an owl home to complain, Mother will probably be too busy to read it. It scares me to think what would happen if Father was still here, if he knew...
Father.
The owl banging against my window before dawn, telling me, so I wouldn't have to read about it in the papers. Me reading them anyway. His picture on the front page, surrounded by Aurors. Him turning his good side to the camera. The train ride home in the luggage rack, compliments of Potter's goons. Mother at King's Cross, eyes hollow, skirt twisted the wrong way. Her starting to hug me, then not. Summer, every day dryer than the one before. Aurors all over our house, knocking on walls, breaking things. Breaking everything. Not one word from Azkaban, not a single word.
I come back to my senses and realize I've been standing still with a shirt half-over my head for - check the watch - more than a minute. I have to stop thinking so much.
~*~
Then I'm out the common room, up the stairs, and past the Great Hall, combing my hair with one hand and clutching my books with the other. My mind is the only thing going faster than my legs. Pleasedon'tletmerunintoanyoneI'mgoingdon'tletmegetcaughtohpleasedon'tohPLEASE-
I turn the corner and crash headlong into Professor Snape. So much for asking nicely.
"I believe, Mister Malfoy, that you are considerably late for my class."
I'm on the floor, gathering up the Transmogrification homework that fell out of my binder on impact. I mutter something like an apology. The Professor makes a little noise, and flicks his wand. The snowfall of papers instantly gather themselves up and fly neatly into my arms. I stand back up.
"Thank you, Professor."
"You are welcome, though perhaps, had you actually been on time, you wouldn't have dropped them in the first place."
"I - I'm really sorry, sir. Overslept. I. I was just.... tired."
"No doubt you have plenty to be tired of. With your family's recent... unfavorable publicity. I honestly don't blame you. "
I freeze. This is the first time all year a teacher's mentioned anything about my family. I think it's the first time one's even spoken directly to me. Most of them have even stopped calling on me during class. But then, I've stopped raising my hand.
Professor Snape is still staring at me. Just staring. Like he expects me to say something. Good Lord, he's looking at me like he expects to start a conversation. I can feel my face go red, but can't tell if it's from embarrassment or anger. I push past him and start almost jogging down the hall towards his class.
"I'm sorry Professor, really, won't happen again, sorry you had to come find me, I'm going to class now, I don't-"
"Stop, Mister Malfoy."
I stop, but don't turn around. Instead, I watch my shoes, and Professor Snape's shadow as he strides up behind me. When he's standing right in front of me, he starts talking again.
"Firstly," he says, and I don't know if he's angry or not, "I will thank you to not simply walk away from me in the future, or any other teacher for that matter, except perhaps Professor McGonagal, and you do that at your own personal risk. Secondly, I have left your class with an assignment, and in the care of the other Slytherin prefects, so I believe it will survive without our presence for a few minutes."
I don't answer. Now I'm looking at the Professor's shoes....
"And thirdly, I am not out of class to hunt you down. Actually, I am, but it's not about your attendance. I have something for you."
There's a rustle as he reaches into the pocket of his robe, and pulls something out. I can't help myself. I look up. Professor Snape's holding a letter in a large, somewhat dirty envelope. I can see my name on the front in smudged ink.
"This arrived for you at breakfast." Says the Professor. "Its carrier owl flew over the Slytherin table and, finding you weren't there, landed on my plate and began attacking me, subsequently getting bacon grease all over the front of my robes. I had to change before classes began."
I open my mouth to apologize, but he cuts me off.
"Obviously, it was given instructions for what to do in case you weren't there. It seems someone else has noticed that you aren't often at breakfast lately."
I start to ask why Thor, my eagle owl, didn't just fly over and knock on my dormitory window, since he would know where I slept. Then I remember that Thor was sold last month, to help pay off Father's debts. It must have been a school owl. I shut my mouth.
"So here you are, Mister Malfoy. I intended to give this to you before class, but as you weren't there, either..."
The Professor stretches out his hand, which I'm now watching - I still haven't looked at his face. I take the envelope from it, and read the return address. I'm still with shock for a moment, but then I flip the envelope over and begin ripping it open madly. It can't be what I think it is, it just can't...
Above me, Professor Snape clears his throat pointedly. Very pointedly. I finally look him in the eyes.
"It's time for class, Mister Malfoy. You've already missed half of it."
"Professor, this says it's from-"
"I'm well aware of the address, after having it shoved into my face, along with my breakfast. However, I must inform you that now that this little mission is over, you are back to being my student. My exceptionally late student. Don't stare at me like a stuffed troll, Mister Malfoy. I suggest you - we, rather, get back to class. Now. And if you are ever this late again, I might actually be forced to take points away from my own house. Come along. You can open that when you are safely out of my jurisdiction."
He turns and begins walking away without a word. I follow. Hell, I'd probably run wandless into an Auror convention if he told me to. I wouldn't care. All I can think about is the return address on that envelope.
Azkaban.
You know the drill: JK Rowling is god(dess), and I own nothing of her great creation, not even Draco *sigh!*
In other words - don't sue, I'm broke.
Here we go....
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I wake up from the sun streaming through the dorm windows. It's so bright it bleeds through the thick green velvet curtains, and right away I know it's late, because the Slytherin dorms are at the bottom of the south tower, halfway underground. If you look out the windows, your view's half blocked by grass. And if the sun is that bright on the ground . . .
Instinctively, I check the watch that's always on my wrist. It's silver, from Father, since "a Malfoy always keeps track of time - every second can be used to your advantage," as he says. With all the sunlight, I don't need the charm that makes the numbers glow green to read them. It's 8:10. Damn.
I spring-vault from bed and grab for some robes, muttering curses at time, sun, myself, furniture - anything in sight. Mostly myself, though. Why am I so tired all the time? It was like this over summer holidays, but never so bad. This is will be the fourth time I've been late for class in a month. In the old days, I could have just breezed by with a good excuse. Now, I just can't think of anything to say. How do you explain to a teacher that every time someone gives you a 'knowing' look, points at you, whispers about you without bothering to keep their voice down, you just want to hex them into oozing powder and fall asleep right there? At least if someone sends an owl home to complain, Mother will probably be too busy to read it. It scares me to think what would happen if Father was still here, if he knew...
Father.
The owl banging against my window before dawn, telling me, so I wouldn't have to read about it in the papers. Me reading them anyway. His picture on the front page, surrounded by Aurors. Him turning his good side to the camera. The train ride home in the luggage rack, compliments of Potter's goons. Mother at King's Cross, eyes hollow, skirt twisted the wrong way. Her starting to hug me, then not. Summer, every day dryer than the one before. Aurors all over our house, knocking on walls, breaking things. Breaking everything. Not one word from Azkaban, not a single word.
I come back to my senses and realize I've been standing still with a shirt half-over my head for - check the watch - more than a minute. I have to stop thinking so much.
~*~
Then I'm out the common room, up the stairs, and past the Great Hall, combing my hair with one hand and clutching my books with the other. My mind is the only thing going faster than my legs. Pleasedon'tletmerunintoanyoneI'mgoingdon'tletmegetcaughtohpleasedon'tohPLEASE-
I turn the corner and crash headlong into Professor Snape. So much for asking nicely.
"I believe, Mister Malfoy, that you are considerably late for my class."
I'm on the floor, gathering up the Transmogrification homework that fell out of my binder on impact. I mutter something like an apology. The Professor makes a little noise, and flicks his wand. The snowfall of papers instantly gather themselves up and fly neatly into my arms. I stand back up.
"Thank you, Professor."
"You are welcome, though perhaps, had you actually been on time, you wouldn't have dropped them in the first place."
"I - I'm really sorry, sir. Overslept. I. I was just.... tired."
"No doubt you have plenty to be tired of. With your family's recent... unfavorable publicity. I honestly don't blame you. "
I freeze. This is the first time all year a teacher's mentioned anything about my family. I think it's the first time one's even spoken directly to me. Most of them have even stopped calling on me during class. But then, I've stopped raising my hand.
Professor Snape is still staring at me. Just staring. Like he expects me to say something. Good Lord, he's looking at me like he expects to start a conversation. I can feel my face go red, but can't tell if it's from embarrassment or anger. I push past him and start almost jogging down the hall towards his class.
"I'm sorry Professor, really, won't happen again, sorry you had to come find me, I'm going to class now, I don't-"
"Stop, Mister Malfoy."
I stop, but don't turn around. Instead, I watch my shoes, and Professor Snape's shadow as he strides up behind me. When he's standing right in front of me, he starts talking again.
"Firstly," he says, and I don't know if he's angry or not, "I will thank you to not simply walk away from me in the future, or any other teacher for that matter, except perhaps Professor McGonagal, and you do that at your own personal risk. Secondly, I have left your class with an assignment, and in the care of the other Slytherin prefects, so I believe it will survive without our presence for a few minutes."
I don't answer. Now I'm looking at the Professor's shoes....
"And thirdly, I am not out of class to hunt you down. Actually, I am, but it's not about your attendance. I have something for you."
There's a rustle as he reaches into the pocket of his robe, and pulls something out. I can't help myself. I look up. Professor Snape's holding a letter in a large, somewhat dirty envelope. I can see my name on the front in smudged ink.
"This arrived for you at breakfast." Says the Professor. "Its carrier owl flew over the Slytherin table and, finding you weren't there, landed on my plate and began attacking me, subsequently getting bacon grease all over the front of my robes. I had to change before classes began."
I open my mouth to apologize, but he cuts me off.
"Obviously, it was given instructions for what to do in case you weren't there. It seems someone else has noticed that you aren't often at breakfast lately."
I start to ask why Thor, my eagle owl, didn't just fly over and knock on my dormitory window, since he would know where I slept. Then I remember that Thor was sold last month, to help pay off Father's debts. It must have been a school owl. I shut my mouth.
"So here you are, Mister Malfoy. I intended to give this to you before class, but as you weren't there, either..."
The Professor stretches out his hand, which I'm now watching - I still haven't looked at his face. I take the envelope from it, and read the return address. I'm still with shock for a moment, but then I flip the envelope over and begin ripping it open madly. It can't be what I think it is, it just can't...
Above me, Professor Snape clears his throat pointedly. Very pointedly. I finally look him in the eyes.
"It's time for class, Mister Malfoy. You've already missed half of it."
"Professor, this says it's from-"
"I'm well aware of the address, after having it shoved into my face, along with my breakfast. However, I must inform you that now that this little mission is over, you are back to being my student. My exceptionally late student. Don't stare at me like a stuffed troll, Mister Malfoy. I suggest you - we, rather, get back to class. Now. And if you are ever this late again, I might actually be forced to take points away from my own house. Come along. You can open that when you are safely out of my jurisdiction."
He turns and begins walking away without a word. I follow. Hell, I'd probably run wandless into an Auror convention if he told me to. I wouldn't care. All I can think about is the return address on that envelope.
Azkaban.