I may change this later but I've haven't been in the mood too type much.

No one is reviewing my stories anyway. But I type for me.



You don't get it do you?

I'm not a nice guy.

I don't cry. I don't show emotion.

Love, sympathy, empathy are meaningless wastes of energy.

What do you think that my father made me this way?

Most people assume he's a horrid person.

My father is a great man. He's stronger then anyone.

He buys me what ever I want. Takes me wherever I want to go.

When he's home, when he has time.

He's never struck me, punched me, kicked me, or hugged me.

I belong in Sytherin, just like him, the sorting hat saw it.

I'll stop at nothing to get what I want. To claim what is mine.

Sytherin's are cunning and always win in the end.

I am my father's son.

I'm proud to be a Malfoy; I will be a Malfoy until the day I die.

I don't need you.

You see nothing.

When I look at you I feel nothing.

I hold no love for you I hold no love for anyone.

Love is for the weak. For those who cannot live on their own.

I'm fine by myself.

I need no one least of all you.

You waste your love on me.

Your hope is foolish that I would ever admit anything to you.

There is nothing to admit.

I feel nothing.

Nothing.