This is an inspired insight into Draco Malfoy and the glitz of teenage
angst.
I bet Draco really is a bastard that likes picking scabs. He's much more enjoyable this way I do hope none of the content offends anyone. This is, in fact a perspective piece of rough literature.
Not what I believe.
PC people are dull
Disclaimer I do not own any of these characters. All rights belong to others etc etc.
The metal sang across his arm and opened small delicate wounds that blossomed with scarlet plumage.
Entranced with his blood he watched it fondly and winced as the air slid past the shallow wounds..
He opened the flimsy cardboard packet that read "Band Aid plasters. 20 in a pack" and slid out the thin plastic with dull lustre and pulled the plaster away, concealing the cut.
He put the empty plastic shell in a pile with the others.
He looked at the state of his arms.
Almost entirely covered in bandaids. His skin looked blistered and melted from the plasters.
He liked the look of them.
They were like shrivelled leech wounds or burns, packed close together, a deformed skin tone.
But when he took them off and thin scarlet scars accentuated the paleness of his skin, like anorexic ribbon snakes writhing he would be seen as a tragic hero, slave to teenage angst and survivor of self mutilation.
Chicks dig that, he thought.
And it was true.
They always loved the bad boy, the sufferer with good dress sense, and they were so easy to manipulate.
Perhaps he should bandage his wrists and not speak to anyone.
Or break up with Pansy Parkinson and look upset, they loved the tragic hero act.
Or cry in transfiguration then storm out,
Or start hitting on Harry Potter.
He smirked.
Girls were so predictable.
Even McGonogal occasionally fell for it.
He couldn't understand female's fascination with homosexuality.
And perhaps he would find a new girl to pamper him next week and after he got bored of her he could dump her and glare at her in the hallways.
Perhaps Ginny Weasly was a suitable candidate.
Ron would loathe that.
And then peel his scabs, an activity which he took childish pleasure in.
He could even start winking at Seamus.
He sighed.
It was all so easy really.
He had learned it all from his father.
His father had always been proud of Draco.
Occasionally he told people his father beat him, and sometimes he didn't.
Occasionally he made out with them instead.
He even suspected Dumbledore of hitting on him once.
Such provocative beard stroking.
The senile old man was a dirty fag, He knew about Dumbledores history with Lupin.
His father had told Draco he caught them kissing in the cupboard.
He was partially revolted and disturbed but he enjoyed the sensation
Draco had driven Lupin mad while Lupin was still at school, making suggestive comments about Dumbledore and Lupin, but in an innocent manner.
The truth was Draco didn't love anybody but himself.
And liked it like that
That took me approximately 15 minutes to write so I apologize for the harsh quality but I generally don't fine tune my work. I know the last line is pathetic but I like it as it relates to a vintage carnivorous miniature book we have in my shelf.
I bet Draco really is a bastard that likes picking scabs. He's much more enjoyable this way I do hope none of the content offends anyone. This is, in fact a perspective piece of rough literature.
Not what I believe.
PC people are dull
Disclaimer I do not own any of these characters. All rights belong to others etc etc.
The metal sang across his arm and opened small delicate wounds that blossomed with scarlet plumage.
Entranced with his blood he watched it fondly and winced as the air slid past the shallow wounds..
He opened the flimsy cardboard packet that read "Band Aid plasters. 20 in a pack" and slid out the thin plastic with dull lustre and pulled the plaster away, concealing the cut.
He put the empty plastic shell in a pile with the others.
He looked at the state of his arms.
Almost entirely covered in bandaids. His skin looked blistered and melted from the plasters.
He liked the look of them.
They were like shrivelled leech wounds or burns, packed close together, a deformed skin tone.
But when he took them off and thin scarlet scars accentuated the paleness of his skin, like anorexic ribbon snakes writhing he would be seen as a tragic hero, slave to teenage angst and survivor of self mutilation.
Chicks dig that, he thought.
And it was true.
They always loved the bad boy, the sufferer with good dress sense, and they were so easy to manipulate.
Perhaps he should bandage his wrists and not speak to anyone.
Or break up with Pansy Parkinson and look upset, they loved the tragic hero act.
Or cry in transfiguration then storm out,
Or start hitting on Harry Potter.
He smirked.
Girls were so predictable.
Even McGonogal occasionally fell for it.
He couldn't understand female's fascination with homosexuality.
And perhaps he would find a new girl to pamper him next week and after he got bored of her he could dump her and glare at her in the hallways.
Perhaps Ginny Weasly was a suitable candidate.
Ron would loathe that.
And then peel his scabs, an activity which he took childish pleasure in.
He could even start winking at Seamus.
He sighed.
It was all so easy really.
He had learned it all from his father.
His father had always been proud of Draco.
Occasionally he told people his father beat him, and sometimes he didn't.
Occasionally he made out with them instead.
He even suspected Dumbledore of hitting on him once.
Such provocative beard stroking.
The senile old man was a dirty fag, He knew about Dumbledores history with Lupin.
His father had told Draco he caught them kissing in the cupboard.
He was partially revolted and disturbed but he enjoyed the sensation
Draco had driven Lupin mad while Lupin was still at school, making suggestive comments about Dumbledore and Lupin, but in an innocent manner.
The truth was Draco didn't love anybody but himself.
And liked it like that
That took me approximately 15 minutes to write so I apologize for the harsh quality but I generally don't fine tune my work. I know the last line is pathetic but I like it as it relates to a vintage carnivorous miniature book we have in my shelf.