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Bollocks.
I have really done it this time. I'm sitting in Dumbledore's office, blood still dripping from my nose (Though not as excessively as Potter's, who is sitting next to me), while being informed on the punishments that could be coming my way as a result of brawling. I have the added problem of having been 'Insubordinately rude to a member of the Ministry of Magic'. However, Potter hit me first, so he's just as bad in their eyes.
Ha.
They've gone into a huddle and are discussing ways to control our 'wayward tendencies'. I have excellent hearing. Father often says that I should have been born to a criminal family who could have made use of my pickpocket tendencies. I just have a talent for slight of hand I guess. Then again, he continually wishes he hadn't got such a weak, sickly heir who, and I quote, "Spends too much time poncing about writing poetry and not enough time fostering contacts for your future with the dark Lord." Cracks me up sometimes.
Ha. Ha.
I can see it in their eyes. They've decided.
"Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy. As you didn't hear Mr Weasley's speech in full, I will de-mystify you both of it's contents." Snape smiled, a nasty leer that can only loosely be termed as a smile. The same facial movement he uses when trying to shove his tongue down my throat. "Mr Weasley was asking for kind volunteers to take some of the second years into the non- magical world for a trip in the hopes of getting more interested in Muggle Studies-"
I snorted in contempt. I just couldn't help it. Muggle Studies was the lamest class that there ever could possibly be. They looked at me severely. "Blood restricting breathing." I said. Potter snorted at this. "See? Even the Boy Who Lived can't breathe through blood."
McGonagall gave me a death glare and Snape eyed me thoughtfully. Oh shit. Another round of sleeping in the owlry coming right up. "And we naturally assumed that the two of you would enjoy leading a group yourselves for a weekend."
"You have got to be kidding me." Potter broke the silence. His face was plastered with an expression of horror. It would have been amusing, if I hadn't had that exact same look stamped on my own features. "Two days with a bunch of kids and...him."
"Three days. And no wands." Dumbledore added cheerfully. "All muggle ways of life."
No wands. No. Wands. Wand, none. Nada, zilch. Nil pon. My mind had gone into meltdown mode. I had never not had my wand to hand. Never. Shit no. No. No. No!
"No!" Was all I intelligently articulated.
"Is there a problem, Mister Malfoy? Because I suggest that you go up and pack now: either for this trip, or for your return home. And I can't see your Father being too pleased that you've been expelled because of a fight you lost..." McGonagall smiled at me with unmasked gleeful malice. Bitch.
Do. Not. Rise. To. Bait.
"He didn't exactly lose." I stared open mouthed at Potter, as did McGonagall and the rest, although only for a split second and then I recovered the smirk. The others didn't however. "Didn't win either, so don't look so smug."
Ha.
Bollocks.
I have really done it this time. I'm sitting in Dumbledore's office, blood still dripping from my nose (Though not as excessively as Potter's, who is sitting next to me), while being informed on the punishments that could be coming my way as a result of brawling. I have the added problem of having been 'Insubordinately rude to a member of the Ministry of Magic'. However, Potter hit me first, so he's just as bad in their eyes.
Ha.
They've gone into a huddle and are discussing ways to control our 'wayward tendencies'. I have excellent hearing. Father often says that I should have been born to a criminal family who could have made use of my pickpocket tendencies. I just have a talent for slight of hand I guess. Then again, he continually wishes he hadn't got such a weak, sickly heir who, and I quote, "Spends too much time poncing about writing poetry and not enough time fostering contacts for your future with the dark Lord." Cracks me up sometimes.
Ha. Ha.
I can see it in their eyes. They've decided.
"Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy. As you didn't hear Mr Weasley's speech in full, I will de-mystify you both of it's contents." Snape smiled, a nasty leer that can only loosely be termed as a smile. The same facial movement he uses when trying to shove his tongue down my throat. "Mr Weasley was asking for kind volunteers to take some of the second years into the non- magical world for a trip in the hopes of getting more interested in Muggle Studies-"
I snorted in contempt. I just couldn't help it. Muggle Studies was the lamest class that there ever could possibly be. They looked at me severely. "Blood restricting breathing." I said. Potter snorted at this. "See? Even the Boy Who Lived can't breathe through blood."
McGonagall gave me a death glare and Snape eyed me thoughtfully. Oh shit. Another round of sleeping in the owlry coming right up. "And we naturally assumed that the two of you would enjoy leading a group yourselves for a weekend."
"You have got to be kidding me." Potter broke the silence. His face was plastered with an expression of horror. It would have been amusing, if I hadn't had that exact same look stamped on my own features. "Two days with a bunch of kids and...him."
"Three days. And no wands." Dumbledore added cheerfully. "All muggle ways of life."
No wands. No. Wands. Wand, none. Nada, zilch. Nil pon. My mind had gone into meltdown mode. I had never not had my wand to hand. Never. Shit no. No. No. No!
"No!" Was all I intelligently articulated.
"Is there a problem, Mister Malfoy? Because I suggest that you go up and pack now: either for this trip, or for your return home. And I can't see your Father being too pleased that you've been expelled because of a fight you lost..." McGonagall smiled at me with unmasked gleeful malice. Bitch.
Do. Not. Rise. To. Bait.
"He didn't exactly lose." I stared open mouthed at Potter, as did McGonagall and the rest, although only for a split second and then I recovered the smirk. The others didn't however. "Didn't win either, so don't look so smug."
Ha.