Disclaimer: I completely forgot to do this in the other chappie. All
these characters are not mine. They belong to not me. So don't sue my
cause all you'll get is some belly button lint. Sorry.
I hope you guys like the fic. It's my first. Not that that means anything. My father is currently getting pissed off and slamming around the kitchen. If I stole anyone's ideas or wording it was completely unintentional. Please don't be kind, tell me what you think. I really can only benefit. Thank you.
A boy was sitting alone in a garden. This boy was not unlike the boy sitting alone in his room at Privit Drive. Except he wasn't' sobbing, he was sitting in the rain; allowing it to envelop his body. This boy was equally sad as the other one, but he could not allow himself to cry. For he was Draco Malfoy, and everyone knows that Malfoys don't cry. The boy secretly wished he was not a Malfoy for it was quite taxing. People often assume that the rich, the privileged, are just that; privileged. They think that the affluent get everything handed to them on a silver platter; that they have to work for nothing. That's not exactly true. The rich have to work just as hard as other people; they just work on other things. The rich work on things that are taxing for the soul, for their emotional well being. I suppose that in the end all your work will catch up with and destroy you; unless of course, you can be brave. Brave enough to not give a damn what anyone thinks, to just be you. That's a lot harder than one would suppose.
'I hate visiting father. He never asks how I am. It always, Draco your upholding the family honor, right. Draco, are you practicing your spells. Draco, are you ready to follow in my footsteps. Blah . . . Blah . . . Blah. I hate him.'
It was quite pointless for the Malfoys to put up a charade. A charade that everything was all right. They were outcasts of society. They could no longer walk through the streets with the crowd parting like they were Moses. No, it was much different know. They all knew it, but they all just stuck their noses up and pretended that no one whispered when they left a dinner party or even a store. Frankly, Draco was sick of it.
'I just want to be normal. I don't want to be the black sheep of society. I don't need society. I need friends and parents who give a shit. I need anyone who gives a shit, but since I don't see that happening anytime soon. I'll just grit my teeth and pretend like everyone still adores me.'
"Draco," a sweet voice called. "What do you want, Narcissa," a very pissed off voice called back. "Oh darling, I just wanted to know if you wanted to go with me to the Parkinson's for dinner." "Are you fucking kidding me. Do you honestly think I'd want to go to the Parkinson's for anything." "Alright dear, well, I guess I'll see you later."
'Why would I want to go to the Parkinson's when there is a beautiful bottle of liquor waiting for me? Hmm. I don't ever know. That's probably why I'm not going. Besides Pansy is a whore. Now, I normally like whores, but this whore could make me marry her. I mean for fuck's sake I'm gay. Then again, I do sleep with anything that will let me. Not, anything.'
People often wonder what would drive a man, or in this case a boy, to drinking. People who have never experienced great sorrow, cannot understand great lengths. Someone once said "Desperate times call for desperate measures." They were, of course, not talking about drinking and bitching, the reasoning was still the time. It's not that difficult to drive someone to drink. People have little self-control; they want an easy fix, and often feel upset. This tandem has a point. The point being, that Draco had access to alcohol; was greatly upset; and didn't give a shit. Unsurprisingly he had become slightly addicted to alcohol; of course a Malfoy has to much self-control to actually be an alcoholic.
'Maybe I shouldn't drink to night. Yeah, that's it. I'll find another way of feeling good. Know I just decide whether to buy drugs or a whore. That's tough one. I think I'll go with a nice cheap twat tonight. Ride real good and rough. Isn't there that one always on main street, she thinks I'm in control, she respects me. Well, she respects my wallet,' with those thought Draco left the house in search of his whore.
The whore never got her money that night and Mr. Malfoy never got his shabby orgasm. Instead he got tied up in a dungeon for three days. He barely escaped with his life. He most certainly didn't escape with his dignity. Alas, that is not the point. Draco was rescued by a very sullen man. His life was a tragic one, not unlike the life of Draco's. So he hauled Draco's sorry ass to Hogwarts to be fixed up by the kind nurse there.
He was in a coma for three days. He finally awoke to Prof. Dumbledore standing above him with an annoying twinkle in his eye.
'I should have gotten fuckin' wasted,' was the last thought that crossed Draco's head before promptly passing out.
I hope you guys like the fic. It's my first. Not that that means anything. My father is currently getting pissed off and slamming around the kitchen. If I stole anyone's ideas or wording it was completely unintentional. Please don't be kind, tell me what you think. I really can only benefit. Thank you.
A boy was sitting alone in a garden. This boy was not unlike the boy sitting alone in his room at Privit Drive. Except he wasn't' sobbing, he was sitting in the rain; allowing it to envelop his body. This boy was equally sad as the other one, but he could not allow himself to cry. For he was Draco Malfoy, and everyone knows that Malfoys don't cry. The boy secretly wished he was not a Malfoy for it was quite taxing. People often assume that the rich, the privileged, are just that; privileged. They think that the affluent get everything handed to them on a silver platter; that they have to work for nothing. That's not exactly true. The rich have to work just as hard as other people; they just work on other things. The rich work on things that are taxing for the soul, for their emotional well being. I suppose that in the end all your work will catch up with and destroy you; unless of course, you can be brave. Brave enough to not give a damn what anyone thinks, to just be you. That's a lot harder than one would suppose.
'I hate visiting father. He never asks how I am. It always, Draco your upholding the family honor, right. Draco, are you practicing your spells. Draco, are you ready to follow in my footsteps. Blah . . . Blah . . . Blah. I hate him.'
It was quite pointless for the Malfoys to put up a charade. A charade that everything was all right. They were outcasts of society. They could no longer walk through the streets with the crowd parting like they were Moses. No, it was much different know. They all knew it, but they all just stuck their noses up and pretended that no one whispered when they left a dinner party or even a store. Frankly, Draco was sick of it.
'I just want to be normal. I don't want to be the black sheep of society. I don't need society. I need friends and parents who give a shit. I need anyone who gives a shit, but since I don't see that happening anytime soon. I'll just grit my teeth and pretend like everyone still adores me.'
"Draco," a sweet voice called. "What do you want, Narcissa," a very pissed off voice called back. "Oh darling, I just wanted to know if you wanted to go with me to the Parkinson's for dinner." "Are you fucking kidding me. Do you honestly think I'd want to go to the Parkinson's for anything." "Alright dear, well, I guess I'll see you later."
'Why would I want to go to the Parkinson's when there is a beautiful bottle of liquor waiting for me? Hmm. I don't ever know. That's probably why I'm not going. Besides Pansy is a whore. Now, I normally like whores, but this whore could make me marry her. I mean for fuck's sake I'm gay. Then again, I do sleep with anything that will let me. Not, anything.'
People often wonder what would drive a man, or in this case a boy, to drinking. People who have never experienced great sorrow, cannot understand great lengths. Someone once said "Desperate times call for desperate measures." They were, of course, not talking about drinking and bitching, the reasoning was still the time. It's not that difficult to drive someone to drink. People have little self-control; they want an easy fix, and often feel upset. This tandem has a point. The point being, that Draco had access to alcohol; was greatly upset; and didn't give a shit. Unsurprisingly he had become slightly addicted to alcohol; of course a Malfoy has to much self-control to actually be an alcoholic.
'Maybe I shouldn't drink to night. Yeah, that's it. I'll find another way of feeling good. Know I just decide whether to buy drugs or a whore. That's tough one. I think I'll go with a nice cheap twat tonight. Ride real good and rough. Isn't there that one always on main street, she thinks I'm in control, she respects me. Well, she respects my wallet,' with those thought Draco left the house in search of his whore.
The whore never got her money that night and Mr. Malfoy never got his shabby orgasm. Instead he got tied up in a dungeon for three days. He barely escaped with his life. He most certainly didn't escape with his dignity. Alas, that is not the point. Draco was rescued by a very sullen man. His life was a tragic one, not unlike the life of Draco's. So he hauled Draco's sorry ass to Hogwarts to be fixed up by the kind nurse there.
He was in a coma for three days. He finally awoke to Prof. Dumbledore standing above him with an annoying twinkle in his eye.
'I should have gotten fuckin' wasted,' was the last thought that crossed Draco's head before promptly passing out.