It's all wrong. My life just seems to go from bad to worse, everything's falling apart around my ears. After everything that happened last year and the absolutely monster mess of the following month and a bit you would think someone would have the decency to let me off school! Hell…this train ride seems to be taking forever; the same grassy fields and hedges in an endless repeat of tangible gloominess.
I can dimly hear another brief pounding on the compartment door. I removed a small group of second year Hufflepuffs from this compartment of the Hogwarts express as soon as I boarded it and have been locked in here by my own hand ever since. Is it too much to ask for a tiny bit of privacy around here anymore?
I'm currently sprawled out elegantly along the seats of one side of the small room, my head propped on my arms so that I can still view the rather tedious scenery. Of course my father would say that a Malfoy never 'sprawls', but since I'm doing it elegantly I figure I'm compromising. Still, dear old daddy's been banged up now hasn't he by Pothead - wizarding wonder boy to the masses, so it's not like he can check up on me is it?
Pothead…I wonder if his royal highness has ever actually tried it. Pot that is. I doubt it, he's too goody Gryffindor for that. But you never know, it's always the quiet ones after all. I've done it. As a matter of fact, I don't think there's a single substance or bit of slightly illegal debauchery that I haven't had a bash at. I figured that if my life is so fucked up, then it really shouldn't be that much of a deal to fuck it up a bit more.
Ahhhh… to fuck. Marvellous thing. Marvellous expression. All round bloody good invention which makes the world go round in my opinion. It can be used to express any number of things, describe any number of things and it's also a name for one of the most popular and enjoyable past times ever. I suppose I've contradicted myself now. If 'fuck' is such a good thing then my life can't really be fucked up now can it? I guess I'll just have to settle for being in shit of the deepest variety.
You wouldn't think someone would want to go poking around in shit, but that's all people seem to be doing with my life lately. The Ministry of Magic have been swarming about the manor all Summer, digging into everything and when I say that I mean everything. As in even my secret stash of dope and those few choice bottles that I filched from Lucius' drinks cabinet in his study. Meddling fools bumbling around like they've got a clue. They think I'm the one that needs therapy?
Therapy is such a pointless piece of crap. In fact, I think it's a secret ploy from the government to check up on people and make a desperate stab at stemming the drugs trade. Speaking of which, 'Hi, I'm Draco Malfoy and I've been clean for four weeks and 3 days'. Very reluctantly too I might add. However, says I as I light up a muggle cigarette with a flourish, at least I still got me Marlboros. Legally too now actually since I'm over sixteen so they couldn't forcibly take these away even if they wanted too. Which they do.
I blow a messy smoke ring in salutation to the gormless sheep that just zipped past the window due to the train's speed. I say speed, but if that's the case then why is it taking so bloody long to get there? All I want to do right now is crash into bed and remain in a vegetative state till next Tuesday and I can't do that if I'm on a train in the middle of never ending fields of soon-to-be cheeseburgers.
An obnoxious thumping sound suddenly interrupts my elegant sulk. I'm tempted to ignore it but, since my ciggie has run out of juice, I stab the butt into one of the seats and haughtily pull myself around to face the window of the door. It's Pansy. Crap.
I pretend not to be able to hear as she impatiently mouths at me to let her in. She eventually gives up, points exasperatedly at her watch and then at her robes and stalks off when I accidentally release the blind to cover the glass.
I guess Pansy's not so bad I muse as I tug my Slytherin robes into place, thankful that I would at last be vacating the stuffy train. She can be incredibly annoying sometimes, very clingy. But clingy isn't always a bad thing and Pansy's always been rather pretty if you can convince yourself that slightly turned up button noses are cute.
Anyway, I think that's enough of that. I open the compartment door a little too vigorously and manage to crack the pane a bit. Still, if anyone tries to pin it on me I can always say it was because I was so eager to get to school. They'll buy that, right?
Strolling unceremoniously through the crunchy glass fragments I can see Potter and his followers also descending the steps onto the platform at Hogsmead station. I think I need another cigarette. Lighting up I jump down from the train and briefly inhale the wonderfully free air before plugging myself full of smoke again.
The Gryffindors have already congregated around the thestral drawn carriages and I push my way towards the area through the jostling crowd of first years and so forth. I probably knocked a few flying but that's their problem not mine.
When I finally reach my fellow classmates I simply have to muster a small sadistic smirk. Potter and his groupies are staring at me in shock and I almost wish I had a camera. Okay so yeah, I'm wearing eyeliner and yeah my hair has a few blue streaks in it and even yeah, I pierced my eyebrow and, what's this? Smoking a ciggie too? God lord…what an emotionally disturbed young ruffian he is.
Guess they didn't realize this was quite what they were gonna get if they got rid of the one person who could dictate my every move. Hmmm, maybe this year won't be so bad after all. I think I'll go and blow a smoke ring in Potter's face…
AN- Random, I know, but I hope you liked it anyway. Also, I don't condone smoking, I hate it actually, I just thought it fitted the character. Please review with any comments or thoughts you have on the writing, the personality I've given Draco, anything as that's what helps a writer to improve and develop new ideas. Thanks for reading!