A/N: Revision of Chapter 5

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are copyrighted to their respectful owners.

Riddles

By PyroMonsoon

Chapter 5: Idiots, Assholes, and Drawings

I stepped over the broken form of Marcus Flint, and proceeded to dinner. "Little fucker." I slid down the banister, landing with a small tap. Skirting the main dinning room, I found myself in the kitchen / "kids" dinning area. I glanced at Draco as I ladled some soup into a bread bowl. He looked at me suspiciously as I grinned when Flint came in. "Jack," I muttered softly. I sat down opposite Flint and Goyle. Draco was sitting at the head of the table, watching me intently.

Unknowingly, I dropped my gaze on Flint in order to eat my soup. Bad idea. Suddenly a shoe-shed foot slid up my calve. It wasn't the hairy foot of Goyle so I assumed it was Flint. 'Asshole.' Deciding to play his game, I slipped my foot out of my slipper. My bare foot gently pushed Flint's down playfully. Across the table, his eyes got a gleam of satisfaction. 'Not for long jack-ass.'

My foot made its way up Flint's leg in a playful manner. Slowly, making him believe that this was for real, my foot slid in between his legs, heading for those precious little jewels. I smirked at his some-what shocked face. 'Just wait buster. Just wait.' His hands moved under the table, as my foot was just centimeters away. 'One . . . Two . . . Three!' The ball of my foot slammed into his jewels. He doubled over above the table and his hands went straight for "his precious."

"Serves you right asshole!" I stood up, dumping my scalding soup on his head. "Your little footsie trick may work on Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle but it won't work with me!" I grabbed an apple from the fruit basket and stormed out of the room. "Asshole's all of them!" I pushed through the adults as they came out of the dinning room. Lucius grabbed the back of my collar and forced me to stay where I was.

"Speak of the devil herself," he said. I fought the hold but he was too strong for me. I opted to growl instead. "Stand straighter! You are in the presence of guests in my home." I did as I was told. He pulled me around to be shown off to the various guests. 'There are more then before.'

"As I was saying, she has been particularly unruly. I mean come and take a closer look at her hair. It's disgusting. I'm glad that I took her out of that damned American school when I did. The Dark Lord would be much displeased if his only child was killed in some accident that should have been stopped." At the mention of my father's title, some of the present people cringed.

"My Father wouldn't give shit if I were to suddenly die or disappear. As a matter of fact He would probably rejoice. He hates me anyway -" Suddenly a hand connected with my face. The slap was rather hard, causing two pinpricks of water form in my left and right eyes. The hand belonged to Lucius' wife, Narcissa. "What do you think you are doing?" I asked quietly but menacingly. The group of adults got quiet. For several minutes the silence between myself and Narcissa grew, until the silence itself was deafening. The silence broke when Draco and his "friends" walked, or limped in Flint's case, into the room.

"Then she screamed like a little girl and . . ." Draco stopped in mid-sentence. Lucius turned to look at his noisy son.

"Room. Now." Draco glared and did as he was told. Flint, Goyle, Crabbe and the other boy followed him up the marble staircase. Lucius turned back to me and let go of my shirt. I turned to forcefully leave but I was blocked. I was enclosed in a large circle of adult Death Eaters. On one wrist, I could see the Mark, dull but venomous. A shiver ran down my spine. 'Someday I'll get that mark, whether I want it or not.'

"Why do you say such horrid things about your glorious father? He gave you a good home in which to live and a more than generous family to look after you. You should be grateful to The Dark Lord." I looked at a woman that was unmistakingly Flint's mother.

"Are you my mother?" I spat. When she made no response I smirked. "That's what I thought. And remember who you're dealing with bitch. There's more than one way to scare a cow." I turned back to Lucius and Narcissa. "Can I go now?" Narcissa glared and moved aside. Just before I walked away I glanced back at mouthy woman. "Oh and you might want to take little Marcus to the doctor. I think his jewels hurt." Shoving my godmother aside, I raced up the steps to my room, ignoring the angry voices behind me.

I ran to my room when I got to the landing. Draco was coming out of his room when I ran by. "Rilee?" he called, concern in his usually scorn filled voice.

"Go away Draco!" I slammed my chamber door and fell onto my green velvet bed. I laid on my back for awhile, ignring Draco's knocks at the door and the angry voices of the Malfoy's retreating to their room on the third floor. I sat there thinking about how my father was such an honored man in their eyes. But why? All he did was kill people. Yeah so he was powerful but that's not all there is to life is there? Only power? I sighed and rubbed my face with my hands. Rolling over onto my stomach and leaning over the side of my bed, I stuck my hand underneath the mattress and pulled out my ratty old sketchbook. "Ugh. Wrong one." I threw that one on the floor and reached for another. This time I grabbed the right one. I flipped to a clean page and snatched a sharpened pencil from my bedside table.

"What should I draw?" I bounced the pencil off my cheek. "Hmm. . . " I racked my brain for a suitable picture. In my mind, a group gathering was forming in mind. I saw myself at the edge of the sketch, Jenna and Karasu in the center with some of our other friends from Fyremoth. "I could do a group portrait." I laughed quietly. I started the sketch with Jenna, the easiest of the three to draw. It took two minutes to do. It looked perfect too. Next I did my friend Mercutio, an Italian that had moved from Verona in Italy. He was hot . . . oh yes, he was hot. He was of course drawn perfectly, even better than Jenna. I grinned to myself, remembering my first kiss. He had stolen it and that was just fine with me. Just fine.

After I finished Mercutio, I started his brother Benvolio, poor Benvolio, he took his life just before the end of their second year. . . . I reflected for a moment then continued on, slightly more solomn.

I drew until it was one in the morning. I finished my picture without myself in it. "It's better this way," I thought. I was stiff from staying in one place for several hours. I even tripped when I got up. I rubbed my calves and set my drawing on my dresser. None of the people moved inside. I hated pictures that moved. And the sleeping form of my father was the only semi-still picture in the room. "Ass." I flicked the sleeping form off and sat back down into bed, finally getting some much needed sleep.

Notes : I've informed the reader earlier now on Benvolio's death and didn't have be so "alive". And yes I know that Mercutio and Benvolio are Shakespearen names. That was the point. Also added in the transition between her going to her room and then drawing

Read Blackness - it's good for your health

Word Count: 1344