Just a little note:
Okay so bear with this one. I wrote it at twelve o clock at night out of boredom after I watched In Bruges (which is a very excellent film!).
It's an alright chapter.
Actually scratch that, in my mind it is such a horrible chapter.
But, of course, you must always sometimes have a filler when your mind is not working right!
So, it might be a while until an excellent chapter comes out, for I have to send some more applications in, finish some assignments, and etc.
P.S. I tried not to write so depressingly. As you can kind of see, my mood reflects on my writing.
P.P.S. Valentines is this week I believe. It is my enemy. I might be going to a concert that day, thank god, so I probably won't get anything accomplished this week.
Thank god for single friends like me!
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Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini sat at opposite ends of the large Malfoy dining table. Eight chairs separated them on each side, enough to show anyone who didn't know them that they were anything but friends. But they were as close as Draco could get to anyone. Closer. Draco told Blaise his deepest and darkest secrets, and Blaise did the same.
Like when they spoke tonight over the main course of the house elf made dinner. While Draco tucked into his comforting Irish beef stew, Blaise complained to him about his marital woes every other spoonful. Draco didn't mind a bit though, for he would soon begin to complain about Pansy's distantness.
It wasn't as though he didn't want to be close to Pansy, as a lover might do where they share secrets and whispers and glances, but it was like she didn't want to even touch him. That bruised his ego. A girl who would not touch Draco Malfoy with a ten foot stick? After all that he did for her during his years at Hogwarts, the Friday night getaways, quickies in the quidditch broom closet when no other boy would have her, he expected her to fall head over heels with him again.
What was even worse was that Draco suspected that she was seeing someone else behind his back.
Blaise definitely sympathized with Draco.
He, having not hastily gotten married three months before the law was passed (unlike Draco who heard the news a year early from his father, and then began to 'woo' Pansy Parkinson), got married to none other than Hannah Abbot. Of course, Blaise nearly tore his eyes out when he read the letter from the Ministry! Hannah Abbott! At least Draco had gotten someone from Slytherin! Blaise was stuck with a half-blood Hufflepuff!
She was such a wreck, Hannah was. She was scared to poke her head around every corner, thinking some Slytherin man was going to hex her to oblivion. At Manor feasts, she hid behind Blaise the entire time, all the while not laying a finger on him. Oh no, she was always at least two inches away from him.
So of course Blaise sympathized with him, but secretly—this was one secret he would not let Draco on, for Draco would get upset—he believed that he had it worst between the two of them. In Draco's case, Pansy still put on a happy 'wife' face when they went out. Plus she was a pure-blood, and well known. That was all that Draco needed wasn't it? Blaise, on the other hand, had a mutt for a wife who was scared of her own shadow, thinking that they housed a bunch of death eaters.
Well her guess wasn't far from the truth.
While Blaise continued his well thought out rant to his dear friend, Draco slowly began to ignore him, and nodded every so often when it looked as though Blaise wanted a response. He paid attention again when Blaise had his mouth closed for over a minute. It was a long excruciating silence for them.
Draco began to fire out his complaints.
"Pansy refused to have sex with me last night. Refused! Who does she think she is? She's behaving like a stupid mudblood she is! Well I'll tell you what Blaise; you can count on me not having an heir!"
If you looked at the pair of them, and listened in to most of their conversations, you'd almost want to hand them a couple of pounds or so. They almost sounded exactly like your annoying psychiatrist who, after you had told him your very dear problems, began to tell you his own problems, just for the sheer fact that he wanted you to know that your life was better than his. You, on the other hand, knew that strategy the shrink used never worked.
They never would've made good shrinks, but still give them a pound for the effort.
She had the most awful habit of biting and picking at her tender lips until they bled.
Draco mentally hit himself. Why in the world would he be thinking about that girl at this moment? How dareshe even enter his thoughts in this dire moment of attention! Draco growled, which resulted in a confused stare from Blaise.
"What is it Draco?" His dark, slender fingers created a steeple as he gazed at Draco Malfoy with his dark eyes. Once Blaise Zabini looked at you, you could never escape his gaze. It almost made Draco wonder whether or not Blaise had an inkling of vampire genes in him.
Draco scowled, attempting to come up with a lie in seconds. "Ah! Headache is all, sorry Zabini, I've been getting these rotten aches for weeks now," Draco said, adding a little moan for affect and clutching his head.
Zabini frowned. "Even you, the great Draco Malfoy, should know a simple headache cure."
"I know."
"Well then perform it!"
Draco scowled again. If he cast this spell and he never did have a headache, he most certainly was going to have a burnt brain afterwards.
"I'll put up with it in the meantime. Maybe Pansy will actually pay attention to me and help me." Draco smirked, that trademark smile of his where only one side of his face lifted, leaving a large dent in his cheek. Most people thought it was a dimple, but, as Draco told them to add more excitement, it was really a bite from a Cerberus. The nurses at St. Mungos had been able to save his good looks but he asked for this simple scar as a reminder of that terrifying day, as he liked to put it.
It was really just a dimple.
Blaise laughed. "Have you really tried everything? I bet you haven't gotten in touch with that man from France—what was his name? Oh yes, Adores Moreau—that I told you about. He has the loveliest store full of extra special things for bed—"
Before Draco could answer, he was interrupted by the shrill scream of Pansy Malfoy, nee Parkinson.
"That insufferable woman! I do not know how Snape puts up with her!" She yelled, her voice such a high octave that Blaise and Draco both cringed in horror.
"What did she do now Pansy?" Blaise drawled.
"I asked her to our dinner Saturday night and she accepted!"
"Well wasn't that the answer you were looking for?"
Pansy sent daggers at Draco. "No Draco. It was clearly an invitation for her to turn down! She clearly just accepted to get on my nerves! "
Draco sighed and stood up at the same time Blaise did, their chairs squeaking across the immaculate wood floor. They couldn't put another bite of food if they really tried into their mouths, not with Pansy there at least.