Riches to Rags Narrator: It was a dark and stormy night...
Stop! (Narrator's voice comes to a screeching halt)
Other dude: the author doesn't want to be cliché!
Narrator: (starts again) It was a bright and sunny day..
Other dude: The author doesn't like that either!
Narrator: *grumbles* then let her do her own stinkin' story!
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter! glares at lawyersdrool ) Slipping it back on, he padded silently down the grand staircase, buttoning it up as he went.
Making sure that the backdoor didn't slam behind him, he walked slowly to his favorite weeping willow, which was bent slightly over the lake. He settled himself into the crook of the bent willow, leaning his head against the trunk, letting the suddenly existing breeze play over his face.
Looking up at the stars, he fell to contemplating them, connecting the stars to depict a scene:
Draco slashed gracefully across the sky, cutting Potter here, then there. Potter unable to stop him, running from him.
He didn't even realize he had fallen asleep until he was jolted awake by raucous noises, and the stench of smoke...
He sat up, all traces of the dream he had just had wiped away, replaced by the flickering flames that were slowly enveloping his home.
His heart beating a frantic rhythm, he raced towards the house, as fast as his long legs could carry him. His wand! His journal! His broomstick! All the things he treasured, stored in his room, all the things that made him him.! He didn't spare his parents any thoughts, they would live.
Draco finally reached the house, out of breath. He took in a deep breath, instantly regretting doing so when smoke filled his lungs and he began to cough, his eyes watering. When he got his breath back, he ran into the burning house, through the back door, where the flames hadn't reached yet. He dashed upstairs; desperately hoping his treasured possessions had not yet gone up in the inferno.
Making his way to his room, he felt the warmth of the flame behind him, and began to run, panic rising in his throat. Finally he made it into his room, grabbing his wand and summoning his journal. Blasting a hole into the wall, he jumped out. Rolling the instant he hit the floor, he didn't have time to assess his injuries, and began to run to the safety of the lake.
From there he watched wide-eyed as his parents were arrested, his father Stunned and his mother in tears as she pleaded Draco's innocence. So they're the ones who started the fire, he thought bemusedly as they were cuffed to brooms, Lucius revived only after he was secured properly.
His eye was swelled shut, his wand in custody. Obviously he had put up a fight. Creeping closer, he saw his mother burst into tears and start to beat feebly on the broom.
Half-wailing, she screeched, "Draco's innocent! YOU CAN'T TAKE AN INNOCENT BOY TO AZKABAN!" Her voice rose, reaching hysterical heights.
It was then that Draco realized she was trying to warn him, and it was his cue to run.
The whole Malfoy Manor was in shambles, the smoke from the just-put-out fire rising from what he had once called home. Giving it one more glance Draco slipped deep into the forest that lined the Malfoy property, terror in his dark eyes as he stumbled deeper into the forest, not knowing where he was going.
Stop! (Narrator's voice comes to a screeching halt)
Other dude: the author doesn't want to be cliché!
Narrator: (starts again) It was a bright and sunny day..
Other dude: The author doesn't like that either!
Narrator: *grumbles* then let her do her own stinkin' story!
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter! glares at lawyersdrool ) Slipping it back on, he padded silently down the grand staircase, buttoning it up as he went.
Making sure that the backdoor didn't slam behind him, he walked slowly to his favorite weeping willow, which was bent slightly over the lake. He settled himself into the crook of the bent willow, leaning his head against the trunk, letting the suddenly existing breeze play over his face.
Looking up at the stars, he fell to contemplating them, connecting the stars to depict a scene:
Draco slashed gracefully across the sky, cutting Potter here, then there. Potter unable to stop him, running from him.
He didn't even realize he had fallen asleep until he was jolted awake by raucous noises, and the stench of smoke...
He sat up, all traces of the dream he had just had wiped away, replaced by the flickering flames that were slowly enveloping his home.
His heart beating a frantic rhythm, he raced towards the house, as fast as his long legs could carry him. His wand! His journal! His broomstick! All the things he treasured, stored in his room, all the things that made him him.! He didn't spare his parents any thoughts, they would live.
Draco finally reached the house, out of breath. He took in a deep breath, instantly regretting doing so when smoke filled his lungs and he began to cough, his eyes watering. When he got his breath back, he ran into the burning house, through the back door, where the flames hadn't reached yet. He dashed upstairs; desperately hoping his treasured possessions had not yet gone up in the inferno.
Making his way to his room, he felt the warmth of the flame behind him, and began to run, panic rising in his throat. Finally he made it into his room, grabbing his wand and summoning his journal. Blasting a hole into the wall, he jumped out. Rolling the instant he hit the floor, he didn't have time to assess his injuries, and began to run to the safety of the lake.
From there he watched wide-eyed as his parents were arrested, his father Stunned and his mother in tears as she pleaded Draco's innocence. So they're the ones who started the fire, he thought bemusedly as they were cuffed to brooms, Lucius revived only after he was secured properly.
His eye was swelled shut, his wand in custody. Obviously he had put up a fight. Creeping closer, he saw his mother burst into tears and start to beat feebly on the broom.
Half-wailing, she screeched, "Draco's innocent! YOU CAN'T TAKE AN INNOCENT BOY TO AZKABAN!" Her voice rose, reaching hysterical heights.
It was then that Draco realized she was trying to warn him, and it was his cue to run.
The whole Malfoy Manor was in shambles, the smoke from the just-put-out fire rising from what he had once called home. Giving it one more glance Draco slipped deep into the forest that lined the Malfoy property, terror in his dark eyes as he stumbled deeper into the forest, not knowing where he was going.