Draco's Theory on Muggles
by Shadow Cat
This story is a fanfiction, no money is being made off it. All characters belong to J. K. Rowling, and Coke is a product of the Coca-cola company.
The silvery blond-haired boy stood on the old, run down castle wall. He wore raven-black boots, muggle blue jeans, a white T-shirt and a black wizard's robe. He looked about 15, but his maner made him seem much older. The boy reached out a gloved hand and picked up a cylinder, opened it and took a sip. It was a can of Coke. "Muggles make the oddest things," he thought. "I've lost a nail or two to these things, but the pop's worth it!"
The slight smile that played around Draco Malfoy's face disappeared. "But losing a nail or two is no reason to think that muggles are sub-human, or a threat to society." He took another sip. "Really, muggles led their lives, from the age of seven and up, not believing in magic. I'm surprised that the Ministry of Magic has such a hard time keeping them ignorant. Although if there were more people like my father around I'm afraid we wouldn't have any muggles." Draco sipped and sighed. "I won't tell father this, but I've been amazed by muggles for years. They're what keeps the Wizarding world afloat. Without their petty beliefs, we magical beings would never be pushed to new heights of greatness." He drank again, and grinned, something he hadn't done since he was a mere child. "Poor, poor muggles," he mused. "You all disbelieve in magic so much that you wouldn't know it if it walked up and bit you. I admire you for your own stupidity, your stubborn belief that magic is just a myth. So many of you are much kinder than a few unnamed wizards. . . ." The grin left Draco's face, and its expression turned to one of remembered pain.
At the young age of five, little Draco, an innocent boy, had managed to escape the watchful eyes of Debby, and wandered off the Malfoy grounds, out of a ring of trees, and onto a small farm. Outside of the small house stood a plump woman. The woman's name was Edna. When she saw young Draco, she exclaimed, "Oh, the poor little ducklin's lost!" Edna picked up young Draco and carried him inside. "you look just like my Tom. 'Cept his hair is more of a sandy blond, " she said. Draco just sat there, dumbly eating the milk and cookies she had given him. They went on for an hour or so, eating and talking happily, until Draco's father showed up.
The rich, sweet liquid bubbled in his mouth quietly.
Draco dropped the can, too wrapped up in the memory to notice. The fluid oozed into the ground. He grabbed his own arms and sank to his knees, then into a fetal position. "Daddy was angry, so angry. . . ."
"Draco, you've been a bad boy!"
Edna, sensing that something bad was about to happen, got between Draco and his father. She gathered him up in her arms, protectively. "You shan't lay a finger on his head, Sir! The boy ain't done nothing wrong!"
Daddy yelled words in rage. Edna dropped Draco and fell to the floor. She didn't move. Hitting the floor was nothing compared to what he'd felt next. The pain! Oh the pain! He'd never felt anything like it. It ripped through every nerve in his body. After what seemed like years, it stopped, then slowly died down.
Draco bristled and then stood up. He brushed himself off. Then he stomped the Coke can into a small ball, and pocketed it. "Great," he thought, "it will be another three months before I can get another can. What a waste of soda!" Draco fingered the ball in his pocket and walked to the manor.
by Shadow Cat
This story is a fanfiction, no money is being made off it. All characters belong to J. K. Rowling, and Coke is a product of the Coca-cola company.
The silvery blond-haired boy stood on the old, run down castle wall. He wore raven-black boots, muggle blue jeans, a white T-shirt and a black wizard's robe. He looked about 15, but his maner made him seem much older. The boy reached out a gloved hand and picked up a cylinder, opened it and took a sip. It was a can of Coke. "Muggles make the oddest things," he thought. "I've lost a nail or two to these things, but the pop's worth it!"
The slight smile that played around Draco Malfoy's face disappeared. "But losing a nail or two is no reason to think that muggles are sub-human, or a threat to society." He took another sip. "Really, muggles led their lives, from the age of seven and up, not believing in magic. I'm surprised that the Ministry of Magic has such a hard time keeping them ignorant. Although if there were more people like my father around I'm afraid we wouldn't have any muggles." Draco sipped and sighed. "I won't tell father this, but I've been amazed by muggles for years. They're what keeps the Wizarding world afloat. Without their petty beliefs, we magical beings would never be pushed to new heights of greatness." He drank again, and grinned, something he hadn't done since he was a mere child. "Poor, poor muggles," he mused. "You all disbelieve in magic so much that you wouldn't know it if it walked up and bit you. I admire you for your own stupidity, your stubborn belief that magic is just a myth. So many of you are much kinder than a few unnamed wizards. . . ." The grin left Draco's face, and its expression turned to one of remembered pain.
At the young age of five, little Draco, an innocent boy, had managed to escape the watchful eyes of Debby, and wandered off the Malfoy grounds, out of a ring of trees, and onto a small farm. Outside of the small house stood a plump woman. The woman's name was Edna. When she saw young Draco, she exclaimed, "Oh, the poor little ducklin's lost!" Edna picked up young Draco and carried him inside. "you look just like my Tom. 'Cept his hair is more of a sandy blond, " she said. Draco just sat there, dumbly eating the milk and cookies she had given him. They went on for an hour or so, eating and talking happily, until Draco's father showed up.
The rich, sweet liquid bubbled in his mouth quietly.
Draco dropped the can, too wrapped up in the memory to notice. The fluid oozed into the ground. He grabbed his own arms and sank to his knees, then into a fetal position. "Daddy was angry, so angry. . . ."
"Draco, you've been a bad boy!"
Edna, sensing that something bad was about to happen, got between Draco and his father. She gathered him up in her arms, protectively. "You shan't lay a finger on his head, Sir! The boy ain't done nothing wrong!"
Daddy yelled words in rage. Edna dropped Draco and fell to the floor. She didn't move. Hitting the floor was nothing compared to what he'd felt next. The pain! Oh the pain! He'd never felt anything like it. It ripped through every nerve in his body. After what seemed like years, it stopped, then slowly died down.
Draco bristled and then stood up. He brushed himself off. Then he stomped the Coke can into a small ball, and pocketed it. "Great," he thought, "it will be another three months before I can get another can. What a waste of soda!" Draco fingered the ball in his pocket and walked to the manor.