This is written for the Muggle Movie Appreciation Club on the Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry forum, using the following prompts related to the movie Forrest Gump:
(Food) Shrimp
(POV style) First Person Narration
(dialogue) "Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get."
(dialogue) "Sometimes it would stop raining long enough for the stars to come out... and then it was nice."
If anyone told me a year ago that I would end up spending my first year out of Hogwarts traipsing half-drunk into Muggle diners at three in the morning, I would have hexed them into oblivion.
Unfortunately, that was exactly what I was doing on the first of November, nineteen ninety-nine, at precisely three twenty-one in the morning.
The saddest part of it all, though, was that my inebriated state was not due to Halloween festivities with friends. No, instead of accepting Nott's kind invitation to "get pissed at the Leaky and go scare Muggles," I decided to hole myself up in Malfoy Manor and get drunk alone.
As per usual.
And, of course, in a ridiculous attempt to convince myself that I was not an alcoholic, despite the fact that I had been getting drunk alone every day for the last two months, I stumbled into a Muggle diner.
Frankly, I only knew it was a diner because of the big, red flashing sign outside. Beyond that, the word "diner" was lost on me. Not like I had any reason to care, as a Malfoy.
There was nothing particularly welcoming about the place, anyways. The booths were all tackily coloured - seemingly fluorescent turquoises and pinks - and the lighting cast a sickly yellow shade on my skin. Nausea hit the back of my throat, like a powerful hand trying to claw its way out of me. In an attempt to ignore the horrible feeling, I focused my gaze on the grey table before me. I leaned my forearms on it, took a deep breath, and hoped to Merlin and Morgana that I didn't spew putrid firewhiskey all over the damn thing.
Maybe I should go home. Sleep.
That must have been the smartest thought I had all year, but the moment a shadow loomed over me, I knew that the time for that had passed. There was no point in looking up - Muggles always had an incredibly nosy way of pulling you into conversation - and if I was to be perfectly honest, I could have used a chat with someone that didn't look at me with complete and utter contempt.
"What would you like to order?" a woman's voice asked in a bored tone.
"Some company," I replied. My voice was raspy, dim.
"Excuse me?"
"Company. A person."
"Yeah, sorry to tell you this, but you're in a diner, not a brothel."
I finally looked up as confusion flooded through me. What is she rambling about? The woman before me was probably my own age, but the dark circles under her eyes made her appear older. Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and the look on her face screamed of annoyance. Something gold on her shirt - striped with the same sickening shades of turquoise and pink - glinted in the artificial light. When it came into view, I noticed the letters etched into it. Amanda.
"It's not a cannibal café, either, if that's what you were referring to," she added. Her left hand fiddled with something in the pocket of her apron - a slender, golden box. Its shape vaguely reminded me of the box that my wand had come in.
"I said I wanted someone's company," I repeated. Whatever attempt I made at firmness was clearly lost on the woman.
"And I'm sorry to inform you that that's not on the menu," the woman - Amanda, I assumed - said bitingly. "If you're not going to order anything, and if you're not going to leave, then we'll have to report you to the cops. The entire bloody diner can smell the alcohol on you."
The cops? "If I order a coffee, will you sit down and keep me company?" I asked in reply.
"Are you really in the position to be negotiating?" Amanda challenged.
"Well, it's not like you're busy doing anything else, right?" I retorted, gesturing at the emptiness of the diner.
The woman let out a frustrated sigh and rolled her eyes. She stormed off, muttering something that sounded like "bloody snobs" under her breath. For a moment, I feared that she was going to call the cops - whoever they were - and considered making a run for it, but just a minute later she returned with a steaming cup in her hand. She slid it towards me across the table and gracelessly dropped herself in the seat across from me.
"So, then, what's your name?" she asked. Her tone dripped with disinterest.
"Excuse me?"
"Your name. The thing your parents condemned you to. You said you wanted company, right?"
"Oh, right," I replied quietly, my hands encircling the cup of coffee. "Draco."
"Good grief, were your parents satanists, or something?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Amanda only shrugged, an amused smirk on her face. Just then, I noticed the paper bowl in front of her, filled with something crunchy and golden. She reached into the bowl and popped one of the things - half the size of a snitch - into her mouth.
"What's that?" I asked.
"Popcorn shrimp," Amanda replied as she ate another. "The spicy variety. Keeps me awake during night shifts."
"Can I try one?"
Amanda shrugged and pushed the bowl towards me. I grabbed one of the things - they felt greasy on my fingertips - and popped it in my mouth. It was warm and salty, and I was just about to voice my approval when the warmth escalated beyond reason. My mouth was on fire.
It was all I could do not to pull out my wand and aguamenti my mouth.
Instead, I coughed harshly into my hand, and said, "I feel like my tongue's burning off."
Amanda was laughing, mirth evident on her face, as she calmly popped another one of the shrimps into her mouth.
"What's in the box?" I asked, trying to move away from my embarrassment.
"Box?"
"The one in your apron."
"Oh."
All the mirth on her face disappeared in an instant, to be replaced by a combination of sadness and regret.
Amanda pulled out the box and dropped it on the table. "Life is like a box of chocolates," she started, and only paused to remove the lid. "You never know what you're gonna get."
It wasn't the small, artisan truffles that got my attention first. No, the first thing that caught my eye was the note on the inside of the lid.
It would be for the best if we stop seeing each other. Love, Alex.
"The nerve she has to sign it with 'love, Alex,'" Amanda grumbled. I looked up in confusion. She? Amanda's eyes widened as she realized what she had said. "Er, I mean, erm... oh, bollocks. Haven't even told my family I'm gay, but I tell a pissed stranger with an archaic name. Bloody brilliant."
I looked back down at the chocolates, if only to avoid her gaze. She had an expectant look on her face, as if she was just waiting for me to have some grand reaction, except... I had none. I really couldn't care less, actually.
"Well, enough about me," I heard her say. "Soon enough, you'll know all my deep, dark secrets. What about you? Why are you getting drunk alone?"
"I'm lacking purpose," I replied. "First year out of school and... I feel lost."
"That's normal."
I looked up to see Amanda shrugging, an unimpressed look on her face as she added, "There's got to be more."
There was. There was a lot more, but it's not like I could have broken the Statute of Secrecy just to make my heart feel a little lighter.
"That school was a home for me," I continued. "And then it got ruined, but it was still better than nothing. But now I don't have it anymore."
"What was so great about it?" she asked.
"It was in Scotland. The weather wasn't great, but the nights were nice," I answered.
"Scotland nights? Cloudy, usually rainy Scotland nights are nice?" she questioned in disbelief.
"Sometimes it would stop raining long enough for the stars to come out... and then it was nice."
Until sixth year, the Astronomy Tower had been my favourite place. I could look up at the sky and see my family. Literally see my family. There was something comforting in that.
But that had to go and get ruined too.
"Well, I'm not some oracle, so I can't tell you you're purpose in life," Amanda started, "but I can definitely tell that you're not trying very hard to find it."
I looked at her with a displeased frown. "What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped.
"You're not going to find your purpose in life at the bottom of a bottle, Draco," she clarified. "Find a hobby. Find a friend. Find a passion. Eventually, you'll stumble upon your purpose. You might not even realize it."
"And what's your purpose? Serving in a diner?" I asked. I could feel the sneer on my face, the hatred in my voice, but Amanda didn't even flinch.
"If you must know, my purpose in life is to become a world-renowned chemist, but unfortunately, not everyone's mummys and daddys can afford Egyptian cotton shirts," she paused and stared pointedly at my firewhiskey-stained blouse, "so I'm stuck working my way through school."
Half of her words made no sense to me, but for the first time in my life, I felt something strange. It was a heating sensation crawling up my neck, a strain in my chest, it was... guilt. I felt guilt.
About words I didn't even understand!
"So, if you're sufficiently sobered up," Amanda continued as she stood up from the seat, "I would like to go home."
She started to walk away, but I grabbed her wrist and pushed the box of chocolates she left behind to the edge of the table. "Don't forget these."
"Keep them," she replied airily. "It doesn't do much good to dwell on the past."
She walked away then, her wrist slipping from my grasp like air, as the words began to take up residence in my mind. Within a matter of minutes, they developed meaning.
It doesn't do much good to dwell on the past.
No, not meaning - purpose. They developed purpose.
This was speedily written and I don't know how I feel about it, but Forrest Gump is a "meaning of life" kind of movie, and I always thought Draco would struggle with that for a while. So yeah. Reviews are much appreciated! :)