The next chapter's up! I know, I know, pat on the back. Good job, Dria. So guess who finally makes an appearance! Well, not really an appearance, he takes up all of the fun parts of the chapter. I hope all you Dransians enjoy it! (Or maybe you're Dramione or Ramione or Hinny lovers; wherever your ship rocks. I don't care! I'm multi-ship friendly.)
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Lucky Number Thirteen
"Ow. Ow. OW! Are you blind, woman?! Or are you just trying to make me blind?" I scream.
"I'm sorry, Miss Parkinson, I do not mean to cause you harm," replies Darcy sheepishly, looking at the ground. I roll my eyes.
"Yes, yes, that would be very unwise of you." She's still staring at the ground. "You can continue now. Just try not to make a shish kabob out of my eyes."
"Yes, Miss Parkinson." I flinch as one of Darcy's instruments of torture rip the hair out of my eyebrows. Mother assured me I would be groomed, pampered, and treated like a queen.
We need to have a little talk.
Since seven a.m, I have showered twice, sat in a bathtub full of rose petals for THREE hours, had my face zapped twice to ensure there's not a single sign of blemishes, traveled every major fashion company in the world for the perfect set of robes, watched my mother hand over three full bags of galleons for one pair of earrings, walked a mile in six inch heels to break them in, took a review course on proper table etiquette, and have had all the hair on my body (along with parts of my skin) torn off by thin, white strips with questionable looking glue on them.
Paris, Italy, Brazil, Argentina, America- you name it, I was there today. And I hated it. Traveling is my favorite hobby, but not the kind of traveling where you Apparate from one fitting room straight into another for hours, never getting to venture outside.
And to top it off, Mother dearest decided now would be the perfect time to implement a diet. I call it, the Starvation Sensation. About every fifteen minutes, my stomach growls brilliantly, begging for food. But of course, I'm not allowed to eat. At all. Not until these guests leave.
With one last pluck of her Muggle tools, Darcy says, "There, all finish, ma'am." I detect a note of relief. How weak.
"Finally," I grumble, rubbing my eyes. They feel like they're about to pop out.
Darcy scrambles to put everything in her make-up box and hurries out, not even bothering with a goodbye. I roll my eyes then look in the mirror.
My eyebrows have much more shape and color, my eyelashes have twice the volume, and my hair falls in sleek waves across my shoulders and frame my bold eyes.
"You look dashing."
I bolt out of my seat from the unexpected voice.
"Mother!" I yell, holding my rapid beating chest. "You could have knocked!"
"Since it's my house, I see no reason to." She walks into the spa room and looks around. A frown forms on her face. "Where is Darcy?" I shrug.
"She left as soon as she was finished."
"Why?" I shrug again.
"No idea."
"I didn't even pay her." Mother pauses, raising an eyebrow. "What did you do to her?"
"I did absolutely nothing! It was her who tried to pluck my eyes out with this metal tongs device and rip my skin off my body!"
"I told her not to be gentle. Anyhow, your pain paid off, you look ready for a ball."
Ignoring Mother's comment on ordering Darcy not to be gentle, I ask, "Who are our guests for tonight?" She immediately smiles. It's scary how many times she's done that throughout the day.
"Sometimes my charm surprises even me. I really do have pure talent." I roll my eyes. "The most prestigious, wealthy, utterly obnoxious family in all of Pureblood society is coming to my dinner! I must be special."
"Very special, Mother. Mind you, they are coming to see me, you're already married." Mother stands up abruptly, gasping.
"Oh no, I'm married!" Okay, she must really be going crazy.
"Sorry to remind you, but yes, you have a husband. For a few decades, at that." She shoots to the door.
"I completely forgot about him! I have to tell your father of the guests and he must attend!"
"So you'll tell him but not me?" I ask indignantly.
"It will give him more incentive to come. I would be absolutely embarrassed if Clive didn't show. What's a woman without her husband? Nothing. Weak. A laugh." She heads to the door, then turns around with an odd look on her face.
"Pansy, why would you need to know? You are unimportant and unneeded, the only thing you're good for is marrying someone wealthier than my family and having children. You are not important." I cross my arms.
"I'm unimportant? All right, so who would continue the Parkinson legacy if I were to jump out my window right now and kill myself?" Lucinda shrugs as she opens the door.
"I'm young enough to have more children. And hopefully, this time around the thing would be a boy. Now, enough talk, you've reached your quota. Put on your robes and be downstairs by seven." With that, she's gone.
It's not blue and tight, or brown and baggy; it's black and elegant. It's perfect.
The sleek, floor length robe has a long hood that's pulled together by a string tied at my neck. The material falls down my body like a silk sheet. It's sleeveless and although barely any skin is shown, the robe still flatters my body. With each step I take, my legs look elongated and beautiful. The robe is backless and accentuates my leans shoulders, neck, and back. But not too much is revealed since it circles back together above my waist.
French braids lead to a soft bun to the side of my head. A curl cascades down my face. I look like my mother when she was my age.
"You are coming and that's final!" Mother shouts somewhere in the house.
"I can't, dear, something important is happening at the Ministry. There have been reported sightings of-"
"Something important is happening here. You know how many years I've been trying to get them to come-"
"And I am very happy that your efforts have become fruitful, my luv, but this is of the upmost importance. Tell Pansy I'm sorry I couldn't come and-"
"Pansy? This has nothing to do with Pansy. This has to do with me looking like some fool of a wife whose husband doesn't even have time to have dinner with her. You are coming!" I hear Dad sigh. He must be in the fireplace.
"I'm sorry-"
"You're coming," Mother's voice turns to her trademark cold tone that sends shivers down my body. "Unless you want everyone to know about Adela." I freeze.
She just used the bargaining chip. The one Dad can't ever refuse. Word about Aunt Adela reaching the ears of a certain group that hates blood traitors would mean imminent death. For all of us. But Mother cares more about social status than her own life.
"Don't worry, dear. I'll be there." Dad's voice disappears and Lucinda's triumphant laughter crawls up my arms and grip my neck; terrifying, threatening, and nerve racking beyond words .
The little hands sprint around the clock, chasing each other until they reach seven.
For some reason, I'm slightly nervous. Maybe it's all the mystery and excitement around these guests that have me tense. I double check my hair before rushing to the door. No worries, I look perfect. This mystery man will be groveling at my feet, no doubt.
Mother's been going crazy all evening; poor house elves, they should get a treat for tonight. My dad arrived about ten minutes ago and Mother almost had a conniption.
The mansion, while still lacking life, has a bit more feeling in it. All curtains are draped back to show the garden and lawn, which Mother will no doubt have the guests tour. The beautiful chandeliers have large, lit candles in them and the fireplaces have warm fires. It almost feels like a home.
"Clive! Get over here! Tuck your shirt in and fix your hair. It looks like a rat's-" Knock, knock, knock.
The heavy sound reverberates through the house, like a stick or cane or something was beaten against the door.
A moment's pause before, "Lucius, Narcissa! I'm so happy you could join us!" Those names sound familiar.
"Yes, thank you for having us," the deep, eerie voice rings out, commanding the entire mansion to obey him. It's... dark, creepy, amazing. Lucius is the male version of my mother.
"Narcissa, you look splendid, as per usual!"
"A woman of superior status must have superior taste." That voice- it's cold and calculating, but has an elegant lilt to it. She's the exact opposite of any mother I've had the displeasure of meeting. No ingratiating comments or pleasantries. No wasting time playing one another. I'm entranced.
"Of course, of course. Please come in, Pansy will be down in a moment-" cue the star.
I walk out my room and down the hall, more eager than usual. Once at the top of the steps, two realizations make me stop for a split second.
The first realization is: power couple. They are... beautiful.
Lucius wears a crisp, black suit and has perfectly styled hair. Straight, orderly, and all business.
One side of Narcissa's hair is black and the other is white. But unlike all the teenagers that try dying their hair to look cool, Narcissa actually pulls it off. She's wearing a white dress robe that radiates beauty and power. She also happens to be scrutinizing me very closely, as if the question "Will this little girl be a waste of my time?" can be answered if she just looked carefully enough.
They compliment each other exactly.
Together, they're equals; enhancing the other's image of intimidation.
My second realization is that I know exactly which family this is. Draco Malfoy, a Slytherin snob, stands next to the power couple. He doesn't shrink in their presence; he shines.
He also happens to be staring off to the side, like he's bored and too good to be here. While his parents appraise me, Malfoy is completely unconcerned by my presence. Little git, why aren't you looking at me? You should be drooling right now!'
Malfoy is in my year and House at Hogwarts. While we've never talked before, I can still honestly say Malfoy's a self-centered prick that would make a more dreadful husband than any suitor I've met.
Many a night I've been woken up at Hogwarts to deal with either girls who were crying their eyes out or girls who gave way too much information about their dates. Guess who I owe my gratitude for? That stupid Malfoy who can't keep his hands to himself, is constantly followed by two fat, ugly trolls, and who thinks he's the king of everything. Well, he is, in Pureblood society, but that only makes me ten times angrier. Malfoy's friends also include that arse Blaise Zabini. Enough said. At least Zabini had the courtesy of looking at me.
I don't care who his parents are, Malfoy will prove me right tonighg: he's just an obnoxious, stuck-up, bratty, arrogant boy who thinks he can get whatever he wants.
I walk down the stairs with my head held high and with more grace than I've ever had in my life.
Don't trip, don't you dare trip.'Stopping before the Malfoys, I smile broadly but tilt my head a bit to the side, letting them know I'm also scrutinizing.
"Pansy you look ravishing! Isn't that right, Clive?" Mother asks a little too brightly. Dad finally pipes up.
"Absolutely beautiful." I can hear the sincerity in his voice, but I don't look at him. Mrs. Malfoy and I are staring each other down. When the side of my mouth tugs into a tiny smirk, she seems to understand that it translates to, "This hag Lucinda is mental and I'm sorry we're related." She turns to her husband. Lucius nods slightly at her then smiles at me, offering his hand. A silent conversation just passed between them. They really are a power couple. I take the proffered hand.
"Lucius Malfoy, pleasure to meet you," his voice is cold, but there's a hint of approval in it.
"Pansy, the pleasure is mine, sir."
"Narcissa Malfoy." I take Mrs. Malfoy's hand. Staring into those hard eyes gives me chills and I want to hide in my bed. But taking the much less embarrassing route, I say in a strong voice, "Pansy Parkinson. An honor to meet you, Mrs. Malfoy."
Finishing my rounds, I turn to Malfoy. All respect I feel instantly disappears.
"Pansy Parkinson, wonderful of you to come, Mr. Malfoy," I say, holding my hand out. Finally, Malfoy turns to me. I'm immediately stricken by his features. Tall, pale skin, high cheek bones, bold eyes, a strong jaw, full lips, white-blonde hair swept to the side with just a few perfectly unruly waves. He's undeniably handsome. The boy smirks, as if knowing my thoughts, and I'm whipped back to the present. Arrogant arse. He stares at me for a second, then at my hand, before reluctantly shaking it. Am I that unbearable to touch? I thought I looked brilliant!
"Of course, Parkinson." And that's it. No first name basis, not even a title. I can't possibly get more offended.
"Well, it looks like we're blessed with perfect weather tonight. Lets not waste it! My husband and I will take you for a tour, Lucius and Narcissa. Pansy, be a dear and show Draco the grounds." Before I could let out a single word, she whisks them away and I'm left in the foyer with Draco Malfoy. I turn to him and roll my eyes.
"All right, let's get this over with." I head to the garden, not bothering to see if Malfoy's following.
"You want this to be over? Already? Most women want to drag it out as long as they can." The way Malfoy says it makes the comment extremely suggestive. I hurry my stride.
"They must be masochistic then." He chuckles and the sound sends shivers up my neck, but in a completely different way than I'm used to. We walk through the oak door that leads to outside. "Here we are," I announce as Malfoy walks further into the blooming garden and towards the maze hedge.
Listlessly, I commend mother for putting so much effort into the grounds. They are quite impressive.
"What are you doing?" Malfoy asks, turning around.
"I think people call this standing."
"Aren't you supposed to be giving me a tour?" I sweep my arm to the layout.
"I am showing you. In the back is the maze. In the middle is the fountain. That section to the left is for the vegetables and fruits. Next to that are the spice plants. That cage over there has all the deadly plants. To the right are exotic flowers and whatnot. And about a mile out are the riding stables with thirteen horses." I cross my arms and lean against the door, showing I want to return inside.
"Thirteen?" he asks out of the blue.
"Thirteen...? Oh, that's right. Thirteen horses."
"Why thirteen?" He asks in that bored tone.
"Lucky number thirteen, I suppose."
"Thirteen is generally considered unlucky." Oh.
"If that's all, I'm going back inside. Follow, or you can go get lost in the maze."
Dinner is served after a few of Mother's awkward attempts to draw the Malfoys into conversation. Whereas most dinner guests always agree with whatever Mother says and exchange empty compliments, the Malfoys don't believe in short talk or lying to make people feel good. I smile behind a bite of duck.
"Draco, did you know that Pansy attends Hogwarts as well? Are you two in the same year?"
"It's possible," Malfoy responds. I glare at his nonchalant tone. Then he adds, "I do recall in one Potions class where Snape called her assignment 'filth on paper' and it would be a 'disgrace to even throw it in the rubbish bin'." Once again, I find myself choking on my water and coughing a lung into my napkin. Everyone stares at me, Draco with a barely visible smirk. But it's there, and it makes my blood boil.
"You okay, dear?" Mother asks with an icy smile.
"I'm good." After a moment, I reach to take another bite of duck, then decide against it and lean back into my chair. "Funny you mention that, Mr. Malfoy, because I recall an incident where you were turned into a ferret." Malfoy doesn't do anything as embarrassing as choking on water, but his look of disinterest turns into a glare, and that satisfies me immensely. I take an innocent bite of my meal.
"Oh Pansy, you're a riot! Draco, what career do you wish to pursue when you're of age?" Mother attempts to break the tension. He glares at me for another second before turning a charming smile to my mother
"I'll be Minister of Magic, of course." I stare agape.
Dad lets out a low whistle and comments, "That's going to be difficult."
"I wouldn't expect anything less. What's life without a bit of challenge?"
"What's life but a challenge?" I mumble.
"Actually, I happen to disagree." My head shoots up to Malfoy. "If life were a challenge, then everyone would be winning right now, we'd all be in first place. But life is easy. The circumstances you're brought into may be difficult, but the easy way out is to succumb to the circumstances, or to kill themselves. That's the choice the majority of people take. So their lives aren't challenging if they aren't willing to play the game. Only few have the strength to rise above and conquer over all. These are the people that make it to the top and beat the challenge."
"As you stated, Mr. Malfoy," I contradict. "Suicide would be an end to suffering, because life is the challenge that brings forth all the suffering. Even if you succumb to your circumstances, you would still be miserable. It's a lose-lose situation- difficulties all around. The only way out of the the challenge is to end life."
"All right Pansy, a bit too dark for the dinner table-" Mother's cut off by Malfoy.
"Weakness is not a way to win, it's a way to lose without having to deal with the consequences. If one is unwilling to work hard and persevere, he will always suffer. If one does choose to perform these things, he will overcome his challenges and live life free. That is the only way to win. Take a poor man, for example. He could continue to beg for money and food, until he withers away to nothing- his last thought spent praying for a savior, when in fact, this man could have been his own savior all along. He could have tried, knocked on every door until his knuckles bled, until he found job, and he could have worked his way up the ladder. But he didn't, he's dead, all because weakness is easier."
"As if you'd know anything about being poor," I retort.
"Some of us have the capacity to imagine beyond what our mundane little brains are used to thinking." Malfoy leans back into his seat, folding his hands and staring at me expectantly. For the first time in my life, I'm speechless. What the-wait a minute- did he just imply that my brain was- was I just insulted'? By a boy? By Malfoy? Mother repeats her little uncomfortable laugh that just makes the situation infinitely more awkward.
"What do you wish to do when you're older, Pansy?" My attention snaps back to focus on Mrs. Malfoy. She looks at me expectantly, like her son did a moment ago. I clear my throat.
"I haven't considered the topic much." Pshhh, you know you consider it all the time.'She arcs an eyebrow.
"Really?"
"I mean to say, not in a realistic light."
"Entertain me." I hesitate.
"I suppose, working in the Ministry has always interested me."
"But of course, Pansy is perfectly happy with staying at the house," Mother cuts in quickly. Mrs. Malfoy ignores her.
"Which Department?"
"The Department of Mysteries." Lucius looks thoroughly surprised, as does Mrs. Malfoy. Dad looks interested -but he already knows I would want to work there- Mother looks horrified, and Malfoy... he's staring off with that same damn bored expression.
"Why there?" Lucius asks.
"There are so many fields to study, the most important of which I think are time, death, and love."
"I happen to disagree." I slowly turn to Malfoy, who's finally paying attention.
"Of course you do," I murmur, irritated. He smirks.
"Time is important to study because you can manipulate it and get your hands on one of those time-turners, studying death is important because you can discover how to escape it, but love? Love is unimportant and useless." The arrogant little blondie props his elbows on the table, leaning forward, raising an eyebrow. This time I retaliate.
"Love is the most important and useful of the three, if you really think about it, Mr. Malfoy. How else would you manipulate and control people?"
"Fear," he replies instantly.
"Many things cause fear: the possibility of losing all your money, having a bad hair day, getting bad breath after consuming garlic- but the most important feeling that instills fear is love. The possibility of losing a loved one, being hurt by someone you love, or seeing them falling for someone else- all of that is directly connected to love. It's easy to predict the actions of people in love."
"I thought love makes people unpredictable."
"Quite the contrary, actually. Imagine the most ridiculous, dim, unreasonable decision, and someone in love will make it."
"You seem well educated in the topic, have you had the misfortune of being in love?" Malfoy says with a smirk. I snort.
"Love? I'm only educated in the concept, never have I or will ever be naive enough to fall in love." Narcissa speaks up.
"Naive? Why do you choose that word?"
"Because you'd have to be to think someone genuinely, wholeheartedly cares about you. All it takes are some threats, bribes, another attractive person, or practically anything of value to break the 'invincible' connection of love. Love is fake, a lie, a scam."
I make eye contact with every person at the table to drive my point home, but my eyes settle on my dad's for a moment longer than necessary. I suddenly feel uncomfortable. He looks down quickly and I turn my attention back to Narcissa.
"Well Pansy, that was-" Narcissa begins.
"Pansy didn't mean all that! Along with her humor, she has a great deal of curiosity. But even more than that, she wants to be married and make a beautiful house and have children. Isn't that right, Pansy?" Lucinda turns to me with a venomous tone.
"Of course, Mother. There's nothing else I'd rather do." Lucinda smiles tightly and faces the Malfoys again.
"She's such a wonderful young woman. I must express again how glad I am that you accepted my invitation. We finally-" Mrs. Malfoy cuts a look at Lucinda that clearly says "shut up". Mother's instantly quiet. I'm reveling in the fact that there's a woman in the house who is superior to Lucinda.
"The only reason we finally agreed to accepting your insistent invitations is because we've heard so much about Pansy." I freeze at Mrs. Malfoy's words. Mother laughs nervously.
"Only the best, I am sure."
"Quite the opposite, on the contrary," says Lucius, seeming done with talking to Lucinda as well.
"From every connection we have that is looking to marry off their son, we have heard nothing but the absolute worst," Mrs. Malfoy finishes.
"Well that can't be right-"
"The stories they told! On and on they went about how Lucinda Parkinson has the most wretched daughter who has not a care of authority and respect."
"Please, if you'll only let me explain-"
Mother tries in vain.
"So of course, we just had to come see for ourselves," Mother immediately stops talking and we both stare agape at Lucius.
"We're pleased with what we see." Malfoy jerks upright at his mother's words. While my eyes are bugging out of my head, he's staring at her with a dark look. "Pansy has been quite entertaining with her bold thoughts and interesting personality. She is attractive, elegant, poised, and everything we traditionally seek in possible suitors, but what my son really needs is a capable woman with a strong head on her shoulders." Draco is absolutely glaring now. I'm stuck on "attractive" and "poised". Mrs. Malfoy, the queen of elegance, said that? About me? I smirk inwardly.
Pansy- 500 points
Lucinda- 2.
"Yes," Lucius agrees. "With my son's aspirations, he won't be home often and will be quite busy. Draco will need an intelligent woman who can manage without him, be the temporary head of the family, make decisions, and think on her own. Pansy seems like a suitable fit."
"Oh I assure you, Lucius, Pansy is the perfect woman for the job! I raised her myself, mind you, and-"
"Mr. and Mrs.' Malfoy to you, Lucinda. My husband and I are superior to you in every aspect and you would do well to remember your place. Second, our interest in Pansy, we assure you, has absolutely nothing to do with your upbringing." I almost want to hug Mrs. Malfoy.
"Now, if you will escort us to the door, we shall be on our way." The Malfoys stand up in unison at Lucius's final words. I've never seen Malfoy look so energetic. My side of the table stands as well and follows the receding guests. My gait slows, confused. I have no idea what's going on. First, they're insulting my mother. Second, they compliment me profusely. Third, they're walking out the room, ending dinner before dessert was even served.
"Does this mean you want Pansy to marry Draco?" Mother asks as her and Dad hurry after them. Lucius and Mrs. Malfoy turn around.
"Don't be foolish, we will not arrange our son's future within the course of one meal. Actually, he won't be marrying until he finishes school. A follow-up date will be necessary between our children, and perhaps numerous other meetings throughout the year." Mother's taken aback for a moment, then resume her hopeful expression.
"The kids can meet next week. Does that suit your fancy, Luc- I mean Mr. Malfoy?"
"That should work." With no further words, the couple Disapparate.
Mother stands in the foyer, shocked. Then, she turns to Dad and let's all hell loose. "It's your fault they don't like me! How could you do this! You were so quiet that it offended them! Could have possibly embarrassed me more?"
Someone touches my shoulder. I spin around.
"Malfoy? What are you still doing here?" Malfoy crosses his arms and scrutinizes me as my parents' argument escalates.
"Where's your room?" I take a step back.
"Are you kidding me? It's been two hours and you already want to get in my bed? Good luck with that,
pig." Malfoy rolls his eyes.
"Don't flatter yourself, Parkinson, that's the last thing on my mind. Where is it?" The last thing on his mind? Another first I've never been told by a boy.
"I'm not going to tell-"
"Where is your room?" It's difficult to hear him over my parents, and he's getting annoying, so I throw my hands up in defeat.
"Second floor right wing-" Malfoy grabs my arm, spins around, and before I can so much as punch him, we're in my room.
"How did you get in here?" I gasp.
"Some would call it Apparating," Malfoy throws over his shoulder as he walks around my room. I roll my eyes.
"Is that so? I wasn't aware. Well, how did you manage to Apparate in exactly the right spot? You've never been in here." Or maybe he has...
"Among my numerous other talents, I'm particularly efficient in Apparating." I cross my arms and sit on my purple bed.
"How are you so good, exactly? We're not even supposed to be learning it." Malfoy makes his way to a long windowsill teeming with my snow globe collection.
"How have you practiced without getting caught?" he asks, shaking a snow globe with the Eiffel Tower in it. I shrug.
"My dad works in the Ministry so-"
"Exactly. It's all about the connections." I cross my arms and stomp over to the window.
"What are you even doing here? Your parents left." Malfoy finally stops harassing my globes and turns to me, eyebrows furrowing.
"Yes, my parents. They seem to be rather partial to you." My eyes bug out for the nth time.
"That was partial?" Malfoy smirks and turns back to the globes, shaking each one. I try and look around him to note which contaminated globes I need to burn.
"Compared to what they do to other girls? Yes."
"What do they do?"
"Walk out at the beginning of dinners, insult the parents, make girls cry- the like."
"Your parents are very blunt people."
"And your mother is a blubbering idiot."
"Excuse me?" Malfoy turns to me.
"Can't get a read on your father, yet, he said all of about three words."
"I can see the bluntness didn't skip a generation."
"I don't waste my time telling people how wonderful they are when they're not. Brutal honesty is my preferred method of speech." He walks to the other side of my room where my photographs are. He scrutinizes them. "They don't move."
"You're an insightful one, aren't you?"
"You're going to be the annoying one, aren't you?"
"I'm going to be annoying? You're the one who barged into my room!"
"I Apparated." Malfoy shrugs, his focus returning to the pictures. "Who's this?" I know which picture he's referring, so I avoid the question.
"You still haven't told me why you're here."
"Because your parents were being rather loud downstairs. By the way, do they always fight like that."
"Whenever my dad's home." I cross my arms, trying to appear confident, but I'm really just protecting myself. He better not show pity.
"Hm. Well it's rather entertaining. You should try recording it. Bloody hell of a laugh that would be. Anyhow, I needed to see what my parents see in you." Malfoy takes a step closer and I'm suddenly breathless, completely immersed in those steely grey eyes. "But I don't see it." He takes a step back and the connection is wiped out with the distance. I correct my earlier statement, it is possible to feel more offended. Malfoy is just stacking up the surprises.
"I wouldn't expect you to have the capacity of recognizing greatness if it were a bludger thrown at your face." I smirk right back at him and put my hands on my hips. He clucks his tongue and shakes his head at me as if he were reprimanding a child. Somehow I feel like the insulted one. Malfoy goes back to observing my pictures.
"I don't like you," he states with that bluntness I'm growing used to.
"I'll let you know when I care."
"But the thing is, you like me."
"And just when I thought you couldn't get more full of yourself." Suddenly, Malfoy's in my face. Two. Inches. Away. My breath catches. I could just lean over and- smirking, he backs away.
"I don't like you and you don't like me, but you're still very attracted to me."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night," I say, rolling my eyes. Arse.'
"It's perfectly normal, you wouldn't be human if you weren't attracted to me." Malfoy looks at all my pictures again. Why is he so interested in my stuff? He should mind his own business.
"Why don't they move?"
"Because I don't make the move." I reply shortly.
"Why not?"
"Because I like them still."
"I see you're going to be rather difficult." Malfoy looks back at the picture he first asked about. "So you won't tell me who she is?" I cross my arms and don't look at the picture. She'll have dark brown hair and brown eyes and a soft smile.
"She's just a woman who posed for me." I shrug, trying to play her off as a stranger.
"Since you insist on being difficult, I'm left to my own devices." He stares at the picture intently. What is that suppose to mean? After a minute, Malfoy straightens up and looks at me with those stormy eyes and a smirk. Oh no. "You're crossing your arms, which means you're defensive about something. Clearly she's not just a stranger. You refuse to look at the picture even once, probably so you don't show any emotion or you don't want to have any emotions. She must have been close to you."
"I'm not close to anyone, actually," I say casually, discreetly resting my arms at my sides.
"She looks exactly like you, but you already have a mother- unless you're adopted, then that would cause some issues with our family's arrangements- so she could be a sister. She looks about in her mid twenties so she'd be living on her own. Still, your mother would have bragged on and on about her, so she must be dead, which would explain your obstinacy on not speaking about her. Did I get that right?" How the hell' did he do that? He needs to leave. Now.
"She's my aunt, not my sister, you stuck-up arse." He smirks triumphantly.
"You say that like its a bad thing."
"All right, this has been loads of fun, but you should go now."
"Don't be upset just because I got it right." Malfoy's smiling madly. He has nice teeth. Okay, he definitely has to go. I walk around to Malfoy's back and push him towards the door.
"You didn't guess right!"
"Oh I knew she was an aunt, I just wanted to head you say it. So how did she die?" Almost to the door.
"Bye Malfoy." He spins around quickly and completely unexpectedly. Malfoy stares at me with those deep eyes. Since my hands were on his back, they're now on his chest. And I can't seem to make them move.
"What number am I?" Malfoy suddenly asks, voice dropping to a whisper.
"Um, what?" He's really close. And I really need to move my hands.
"What number suitor am I?"
"Thirteen." He smirks. Then leans slowly towards my face, his soft lips brushing my ear.
"Lucky number thirteen." Then he leans back, his lips a whisper against my cheek. Still smirking, Malfoy Disapparates.
My skin tingles from everywhere he touched and there's a tung in my stomach.
That was... this entire night's been... interesting. For the first time, a boy was different. Someone actually listened to what I said and argued intelligently with me. Someone took my sass and handed it right back. This boy was still completely arrogant, but he was just... different. Not boring. Malfoy is the only boy who ever surprised me. Maybe you've finally met your match, Parkinson.'
But I don't like that.
I hate him.
I am superior. Always have been, always will.
I refuse to give in to Draco Malfoy.
Grimly I think, Lucky number thirteen.
So... yeah. Stories never turn out the way you want them too. Of course I planned on this only being four chapters, but nope! My brain died. This will be a full on story. Probably with a sequel and all that jazz. Look forward to more chapters! Follow! Thanks.
(Oh, and see that review button below? Press it. Say amazing things. I dare you. Okay bye.)
