IN LOVE AND WAR
DISCLAIMER:
C'mon. Make yourselves useful. Obviously, none of the characters are my own so
as much as I would like to generate money from this, I cant.
Chapter 1
PANSY
Today will be a new day.
I looked into the mirror one last time before I headed out of my room to
meet Mother and Father out in the carriage. This year is my last in Hogwarts and
I am determined more than ever to make this my
best year in school. Though, words cannot describe how much I
despise that place
---wanting to get out all these years because of the endless homework,
the countless hours of potion classes with those grubby Gryffindor
Mudblood lovers and going out on the cold just
to listen to that pea-brained giant, Hagrid and his atrocious monsters
--- I find myself quite attached to Hogwarts
School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The memories of the late night gossiping that
Millicent and I shared since first year laughing
till we were in tears when we came up with brilliant ideas to make Hermione
Granger's life a living hell caused a smile to creep through my face. Oh and of
course, who could forget the catchy tune, "Weasley is Our King?"
I should get at least a few Galleons for the royalties to the song now that those unexciting little Gryffindors use it to encourage that excuse of a Keeper they have, I thought as my smile eroded to my usual smirk.
Another set of flashbacks came into my mind. The
time when I carried about a notion that life at Hogwarts didn't seem much
of a waste. It was the day Draco Malfoy asked me to the Yule Ball.
The voices in my head debated that the only reason he was asking me to the ball
was because he had nobody else to go with and all that mattered to him was his
obsession of beating Harry Potter in whatever game they played. But like every
other person sorted into Salazar Slytherin's house of the rich and snotty, I was
a very convincing liar even to myself.
But today will be a new day.
I dusted my robe one last time before stepping out of my door that would
conclude my summer and start my 7th year in Hogwarts.
"I expect that you to do better than last year, Pansy,
" my father spoke loud and clear as he always did for the past seven
years. "A Parkinson is never mediocre."
"Yes, Father," I answered mechanically as I
stepped into the big black family carriage and took the seat next to my mother.
"Are you still friends with Lucius' son?" he asked with his expression as solid
as a rock and his eyes full of concern for the matter. I looked at him with the
same hard expression but made sure my eyes were full of, not concern,
but every bit of disdain that I could conjure up.
My father worshipped the Malfoy Family; it was
sickening. Lucius Malfoy is my father's best friend and is the very man my
father wanted to be. My father dressed liked him, stood like him, talked like
him, and would often criticize Mother for being
not being the woman that Narcissa Malfoy is. Mother, who was as submissive as
all the well respected pureblooded wives in the upper class, would just look at
him, not uttering a word. Not that I cared about what my mother felt… if my
mother or even my father had any emotions at all.
"Yes, Father. Draco, I believe, is still within my circle of friends."
"You believe?" Father shifted his gaze to me, bothered by my remark.
I could not stand it any longer. I have to speak up.
Sod this for a lark
if my father can't take it.
"Does it matter, Father, if we
didn't converse with each other? To tell you
honestly, talking to the boy is like listening to a horrible song day after
day." This was a lie but it was a very effective way to tick my father off.
I felt my mother tense up as my father's face
turned a darker shade. Sinister guffaws ringed inside my head. I have succeeded.
"You shall never answer in such a manner. It is very unbecoming of a lady in the
upper class. YOU have to remember that YOU are a Parkinson and should be ever so
grateful to be born with such a privilege,"
he said slowly but with a great deal of
imposition. "You WILL be in a constant friendship with Lucius' son as I have
instructed. It will do our family good. Am I clear on that?"
It was almost too funny that he threatened me. All his words stuck to me like
glue to rubber, bouncing off me as soon as they came. I am to marry a
rich, pureblooded upper classman that is within the Slytherin house. I am to
never slouch, but expected to walk with perfect posture and delicacy. I am to
never answer a man with assumption of equality.
Naffing chauvinistic sexist little
nobs. They all are.
I wanted to spit on my father's
rock hard face but my good breeding and the realization that my desire to do so
is futile and detrimental to my interests called me to answer to what my father
has instructed me to do. Besides, a Parkinson never disappoints.
"Yes, Father. I apologize." Ha. So much for "Eat
Shit, Father", eh Pansy?
"You are forgiven. Let no one say I am unjust to my offsprings,"
he replied before diverting his stare to the
trees that our carriage was passing through swiftly.
DRACO
It was only a matter of minutes before my Father's black carriage brought me
to Platform 9 ¾. It has been to my disposal since my Father has been delivered
to Azkaban. I suppose my father has been foolish for being a bit… overly zealous
in serving the Dark Lord. Don't get me wrong. My father was an ambitious man and
everything he did had a certain price. Lord
Voldemort has been very good at tickling my father's delusions of grandeur,
making my father at his command, even to the point of death. The Dark Lord and
my Father shared love-hate relationship; for as
powerful as Voldemort was, he didn't have a human form to continue on his
mission to cleanse the Wizarding world of Muggle blood and my father needed to
cling to the most powerful person he could think of. Neither of them really
cared for each other's beliefs or welfare, but
both saw each other as beneficial to themselves. During the nights when my
father perceived me asleep, I had chanced on seeing him
look at the Dark Mark with hate then fall down on his knees a few seconds
after, clutching the Mark that illuminated in the dark room.
I glanced at my reflection in mirror and was stunned with the similarities I had
with my father. Was I really like him? Was my
fate to be sealed without a choice? I have not received the Dark Mark myself but
everyone knew that it was to happen. I was the Son of the Dark Lord's right hand
man. If the Kiss was to be given to my father, I was to take his place in Lord
Voldemort's little circle.
"I expect you to do as well as last year, Draco,"
my father once said to me, before I stepped
inside the carriage. "A Malfoy is never mediocre"
"Yes, Father," I answered earnestly, devouring
every word my father told me.
I never really came up to his standards as much
as I tried to please him. To my father, I was only second best.
Never to be as good as Harry Potter. Even as much as it burned to him say that his own flesh and blood was lesser than that half-blood boy wonder, he failed to recognize that I exceeded that ingrate in almost everything if that old nut Dumbledore didn't favor Potty Scar Face too much.
"A Malfoy never disappoints," I whispered, not
realizing that I have been biting my lower lip as I did in my thoughts.
I stared across the room irritably, deafened by the noise around the Great Hall,
particularly those coming from the Gryffindor table. It's the first day of the
day of school and I am surrounded by all their annoying cheers, their fake
little pleasantries, Harry Potter and his nice little friends. I am getting
rather tired of the year by year scenario. Six years of this maddening noise was
enough reason for a man to declare himself, legally insane.
Just one more year, Draco. Just one more bleeding year.
Losing interest in my breakfast, I pushed the golden plate away from me. Both
Crabbe and Goyle divided my food among themselves almost automatically as I
pressed my fingers between my eyes and slowly slid them down the bridge of my
nose, giving it a bit of a massage to prevent an oncoming migraine from
building. Bloody uncivilized Gryffindor
twits. Can't eat without making such a huge commotion, can they? My
breathing was gaining speed rapidly and my nostrils were starting to flare under
my fingers that keep trying to soothe my headache.
"She'll grow to love the
tender roses, Lilies fair, the iris tall..." the
Mudblood read aloud with her know-it-all voice from across the room,
with her nose stuck in a book that was bigger than her head.
"Filthy girl, don't get too attached. For I shall come and kill them all..."
another girl continued slyly then letting out an evil snicker, breaking my
thoughts and rooting me to smile. The remark was all too familiar that I knew
right on that second who it was.
Pansy Parkinson sat next to me as usual, shoving Goyle over. I turned to my
right and watched her laugh animatedly with Millicent Bullstrode and Blaise
Zabini, who were sitting in front of us, both bursting in laughter while
throwing sinister glances at Hermione Granger.
"Amazing," her eyebrow arched the same way her
lips did in one side. "You'd think for someone that claims to have knowledge and
curiosity coming out their arse, she'd be able to realize that her hair is a
complete disaster. That thing on her should be reported to the Daily Prophet to
make sure it didn't have any casualties and----what is your deal, Malfoy? Do I
have something unpleasant in my face?"
All of the noise and my blood drained down my face as I realized how long I've
been practically gawking at her and that I have been caught off guard.
"Oh," I stammered, trying to come up with a good
excuse for the situation. "If there was something unpleasant in your face, I
would make it a point of making you aware."
"Of course, why would Draco Malfoy pass up chance to make poke fun of somebody
else?" she spat back, misunderstanding my explanation. "Now, if there is nothing
that you need to tell me, I need to go back to the common room to prepare for my
classes. C'mon, Blaise, Millicent. I fear I have lost my appetite." She darted a
commanding look at the two girls who immediately gathered themselves and
followed Pansy out the Great Hall.
"Must be that time of the month," Adrian Pucey
spoke upon witnessing what has just happened.
"What time of the month?"
Goyle muttered between chomps.
"Something that your uncomplicated mind will
never be able comprehend," I said blandly. "And
I'd rather you speak when you're mouth is not
full because the sound of the half masticated cow in your mouth is really not of
my fancy."
"Girls," Crabbe trailed off without looking up
from his plate, shocking myself and the rest of the male population of the
Slytherin table.
"Neither is the thought of any girl who would come to terms with you,"
I smirked, appalled at the mental image of Vincent Crabbe getting all mushy with
Millicent Bullstrode. It just wasn't right.
Author's Notes:
Well, its finally up. Special thanks to Mayhem Mea and Jesser for proof reading
my fic in between hell week in school.