Isn't This What You Wanted?/The Malfoy Chronicles
By (c) Angela Marcisak, 2002
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, or any of the characters, blah blah blah. You know the drill. Now read, damn you!
Chapter One: Third Time This Week
Isn't this what you wanted?
Answer me, you piece of shit. Isn't this what you wanted?
Is it?
I see you staring at me. You've got that look...that scared, pitiful...meaningless...look...I feel like vomiting as I'm thrown against cold bricks. That look...it makes me sick.
He can beat me to a pulp, for all I care. Those...them...they're the real freaks. Surrounding us like swarms of ants, ready to crawl all over any available carcass they can find. Looking for nothing but a good fight, a good show.
Let them watch, for all I care.
Each blow to the face adds another scar to my collection...
One to the cheek..
One to the nose..
One to the heart...
I smile. That throws him off.
My enemy loosens his grip, and I grin at him. My eyes, a piercing gray, glaze over after studying the scar...the lone scar on that pale forehead of his. I hit the ground below.
The swarm weakens, and soon, disappears...the queen ant, leaving me in the dust, runs off down the corridor.
What an ass.
I stand up, brushing the dirt off my robes. Black and green. I guess you could say I've grown tired of those colors.
My books litter the stone floor, but I leave them in their place...instead, pulling out a pocket knife. One with a snake wrapped around the tip.
Here's to life, I mutter. The blade finds its way into my wrists.
Darkness.
Complete...darkness.
~*~*~*~
"Draco Malfoy." Madam Pomfrey uttered, not looking up from her clipboard, flipping endlessly through files. Pages after pages...after pages...
I lie in silence. She walks away...the idiot. I hear her whisper to herself. "Third time this week..."
What a moron. I open my eyes to rays of sun, bursting through the yellow shades. My, how things have changed.
If I may say so myself, I never thought I'd see the day where I'd let Potter get to my head.
Not like he's the cause of all my problems. Him? That son of a bitch? Never.
Society's the cause.
Ever since his little twerp friend Weasley got killed in that car crash, he's been nothing but a whiny little bastard. Got to his head, apparently...put on this whole 'tough guy' act to cover up what he really is...a coward.
Everyone loved him when he warded off the basilisk Year Two. Hell, everyone loved him when he was a little brat child. He was famous as fuck...and he didn't even know it.
That pisses me off.
Now, he's got the whole school against me...weak little bitch can't even pick a fight without twenty-thousand people by his side.
And who do I have?
Nobody.
Not one soul.
Even Crabbe and Goyle joined his little 'mob'. Screw them.
I don't need friends. Friends are for the weak.
The weak...
Madam Pomfrey comes back for another check. I close my eyes, and fall victim to slumber.
By (c) Angela Marcisak, 2002
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, or any of the characters, blah blah blah. You know the drill. Now read, damn you!
Chapter One: Third Time This Week
Isn't this what you wanted?
Answer me, you piece of shit. Isn't this what you wanted?
Is it?
I see you staring at me. You've got that look...that scared, pitiful...meaningless...look...I feel like vomiting as I'm thrown against cold bricks. That look...it makes me sick.
He can beat me to a pulp, for all I care. Those...them...they're the real freaks. Surrounding us like swarms of ants, ready to crawl all over any available carcass they can find. Looking for nothing but a good fight, a good show.
Let them watch, for all I care.
Each blow to the face adds another scar to my collection...
One to the cheek..
One to the nose..
One to the heart...
I smile. That throws him off.
My enemy loosens his grip, and I grin at him. My eyes, a piercing gray, glaze over after studying the scar...the lone scar on that pale forehead of his. I hit the ground below.
The swarm weakens, and soon, disappears...the queen ant, leaving me in the dust, runs off down the corridor.
What an ass.
I stand up, brushing the dirt off my robes. Black and green. I guess you could say I've grown tired of those colors.
My books litter the stone floor, but I leave them in their place...instead, pulling out a pocket knife. One with a snake wrapped around the tip.
Here's to life, I mutter. The blade finds its way into my wrists.
Darkness.
Complete...darkness.
~*~*~*~
"Draco Malfoy." Madam Pomfrey uttered, not looking up from her clipboard, flipping endlessly through files. Pages after pages...after pages...
I lie in silence. She walks away...the idiot. I hear her whisper to herself. "Third time this week..."
What a moron. I open my eyes to rays of sun, bursting through the yellow shades. My, how things have changed.
If I may say so myself, I never thought I'd see the day where I'd let Potter get to my head.
Not like he's the cause of all my problems. Him? That son of a bitch? Never.
Society's the cause.
Ever since his little twerp friend Weasley got killed in that car crash, he's been nothing but a whiny little bastard. Got to his head, apparently...put on this whole 'tough guy' act to cover up what he really is...a coward.
Everyone loved him when he warded off the basilisk Year Two. Hell, everyone loved him when he was a little brat child. He was famous as fuck...and he didn't even know it.
That pisses me off.
Now, he's got the whole school against me...weak little bitch can't even pick a fight without twenty-thousand people by his side.
And who do I have?
Nobody.
Not one soul.
Even Crabbe and Goyle joined his little 'mob'. Screw them.
I don't need friends. Friends are for the weak.
The weak...
Madam Pomfrey comes back for another check. I close my eyes, and fall victim to slumber.