A/N: Arghh. I'm having problems with language and formatting. This damn
story is turning into a joke. Don't even bother, leave now before I
inadvertently hurt you with this pathetic sap.
Disclaimer: By all rights I should be sued.
Chapter 4: Forced Entry
Draco lay on his bed, worrying his socks. He'd had a troubled night and he was in a murderous mood. He felt as though a poisonous black cloud had managed to seep from his mind, tainting all he came in contact with.
As his mood worsened, the stones marking the door, ground in opening. Pansy strode into the room.
Draco turned to her. "Pansy, if you come any closer, I will kill you." She rolled her eyes, the scene was familiar.
" Draco, I highly doubt you're willing to face Azkaban, we aren't after all, Gryffindors. You've threatened my life to many times for me to take you seriously." " I'm not joking." "Neither am I. Get your sorry ass off your bed. Nobody conquered the world lying huddled and cramped in a bunk." " I wasn't aware of any cramps." " Watch it." " Excuse me! Who is in the vulnerable position here?" "Neither of us, you wouldn't kill anybody and we both know it. Torture maybe, but kill? You aren't that messy."
Draco's eyes revolved in his skull, but Pansy had lessened the mood considerably. "I'm afraid you'll have to get up now, or I may be forced to antagonize you." Draco sprang from the bed, and grabbed for his wand. Pansy hit him with a cheering charm before he was able to consider retaliation.
He giggled hysterically for the remainder of the hour; Pansy had hit him hard for a reason.
Later, when Draco had recovered his composure, Pansy accompanied him too the library, both intent on nasty Arithmancy essays.
To Draco's dismay, the books he'd been hoping for had already been taken. He doubted they had been checked out, the subject less than riveting and he prowled the library, grabbing suspicious looking books from the arms of unsuspecting students. Pansy collared him and led him to a table before Draco was hexed. She withered a few of the students ready for trouble, than turned to Draco. " You had the dream again, didn't you?" " Brilliant deduction." " Control." "No." "Control." "No." "Con-" "NO! Pansy, don't you get it? We've been controlled all our lives. Our parents taught us to discipline ourselves so they wouldn't have to. I'm tired of family honor; I'm tired of pride. I want the money, but I don't know how badly." " Draco, think. The Malfoy's are one of the most hated families in Wizarding History, right with the Riddles and the Blacks. Who would take you? Where would you go? I'm asking these questions on the asinine assumption that your father doesn't have you killed. The Malfoy fortune fills 15 vaults already, and is gaining as we speak. As does the Parkinson, give or take. You can't walk away." " Pansy, thank you for pointing out the obvious facts, ones of which I have already know. It is after all MY family. Where would I go? Anywhere I want. Who would take me? Why does anyone have to take me? Would my father have me killed, doubtful, but a distinct possibility. Did I say I was leaving? No. Have I considered, a little. Would I go through with it? Probably not. Could I be pushed? Yes. As long as mother is alive, I can consider myself safe from the negative consequences of my actions, when and if she dies, we'll have to see." "You are insane. 15 vaults!" "Pansy, that money didn't just happen upon us, a Malfoy earned it once, and a Malfoy can earn it again." " Thus speaks the last true Slytherin?" " As always."
The conspirators, confidants, friends of old, smiled tiredly at each other across the table, weary, and dis-heartened in face of the inevitable. Obscene amounts of money, controlled to their last, or Life, choices, no money, and almost certain death. One day they would choose.
Hermione Granger, standing next to their table, and completely bewildered. Cleared her throat loudly. Draco turned his head slowly. His eyes smoldered.
" What." He did not ask, merely said as was customary. "Umm, I think these are the books you were looking for. I had them." " Should have known. How, pray tell, did you know what I was looking for?" " You were disrupting the entire library, everyone knows what you were looking for." Draco took the books, and set them on the table disinterestedly. Hermione flushed. " So, uhhh, what were you guys talking about?" " What could ever make you think you have a right to know let alone comprehend? I don't draw the connection, and I frankly don't know why you care. Is there a reason?"
Hermiones eyes flashed.
" What was the saying? Keep your friends close and your enemy's closer? Or have you heard of it?"
Draco's interest was piqued. " Well, Granger, we are indeed enemies. Pansy and I were discussing the pros and cons of a plot to overthrow our families, and descend our throne. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have homework." He swept the books from the table and into his bag, and strode from the library, parting the students effortlessly. Hermione gaped after him, and Pansy watched him leave emotions, if any, were concealed. Hermione turned, mouth agape, to Pansy. " I really didn't mean for - !" she spluttered. The Slytherin turned to Hermione. "You do realize what he told you? As far as I know, besides me, you are the only living soul who knows. I'd keep it shut if I were you; we are after all, still Slytherins. Now, if you'll excuse me, Draco has a book I need." Pansy stood and exited the library, also leaving a wake, and her robes swirled spectacularly, as had Draco's. Hermione, shocked, and trying to adjust to her expanding conception of the Slytherins, watched the other girl leave, watching the robes swirl in a non-existent draft. 'How do they do that?' her only coherent thought.
A/N While writing this chapter, the movie Footloose blaring in the background, I had an interesting idea for the story, which may or may not have had something to do with Kevin Bacon's dance solo, this idea, and this idea only, will ensure further updates, for my satisfaction if nothing else. I suggest, however, that you don't read them. Read instead, Harry Potter and the Year of Rebellion, an amazing story which is on a level unattainable by this author. Cast aside my hocky claptrap and satiate your mind with Full-Pensieve's genius. Thank you.
Chapter 4: Forced Entry
Draco lay on his bed, worrying his socks. He'd had a troubled night and he was in a murderous mood. He felt as though a poisonous black cloud had managed to seep from his mind, tainting all he came in contact with.
As his mood worsened, the stones marking the door, ground in opening. Pansy strode into the room.
Draco turned to her. "Pansy, if you come any closer, I will kill you." She rolled her eyes, the scene was familiar.
" Draco, I highly doubt you're willing to face Azkaban, we aren't after all, Gryffindors. You've threatened my life to many times for me to take you seriously." " I'm not joking." "Neither am I. Get your sorry ass off your bed. Nobody conquered the world lying huddled and cramped in a bunk." " I wasn't aware of any cramps." " Watch it." " Excuse me! Who is in the vulnerable position here?" "Neither of us, you wouldn't kill anybody and we both know it. Torture maybe, but kill? You aren't that messy."
Draco's eyes revolved in his skull, but Pansy had lessened the mood considerably. "I'm afraid you'll have to get up now, or I may be forced to antagonize you." Draco sprang from the bed, and grabbed for his wand. Pansy hit him with a cheering charm before he was able to consider retaliation.
He giggled hysterically for the remainder of the hour; Pansy had hit him hard for a reason.
Later, when Draco had recovered his composure, Pansy accompanied him too the library, both intent on nasty Arithmancy essays.
To Draco's dismay, the books he'd been hoping for had already been taken. He doubted they had been checked out, the subject less than riveting and he prowled the library, grabbing suspicious looking books from the arms of unsuspecting students. Pansy collared him and led him to a table before Draco was hexed. She withered a few of the students ready for trouble, than turned to Draco. " You had the dream again, didn't you?" " Brilliant deduction." " Control." "No." "Control." "No." "Con-" "NO! Pansy, don't you get it? We've been controlled all our lives. Our parents taught us to discipline ourselves so they wouldn't have to. I'm tired of family honor; I'm tired of pride. I want the money, but I don't know how badly." " Draco, think. The Malfoy's are one of the most hated families in Wizarding History, right with the Riddles and the Blacks. Who would take you? Where would you go? I'm asking these questions on the asinine assumption that your father doesn't have you killed. The Malfoy fortune fills 15 vaults already, and is gaining as we speak. As does the Parkinson, give or take. You can't walk away." " Pansy, thank you for pointing out the obvious facts, ones of which I have already know. It is after all MY family. Where would I go? Anywhere I want. Who would take me? Why does anyone have to take me? Would my father have me killed, doubtful, but a distinct possibility. Did I say I was leaving? No. Have I considered, a little. Would I go through with it? Probably not. Could I be pushed? Yes. As long as mother is alive, I can consider myself safe from the negative consequences of my actions, when and if she dies, we'll have to see." "You are insane. 15 vaults!" "Pansy, that money didn't just happen upon us, a Malfoy earned it once, and a Malfoy can earn it again." " Thus speaks the last true Slytherin?" " As always."
The conspirators, confidants, friends of old, smiled tiredly at each other across the table, weary, and dis-heartened in face of the inevitable. Obscene amounts of money, controlled to their last, or Life, choices, no money, and almost certain death. One day they would choose.
Hermione Granger, standing next to their table, and completely bewildered. Cleared her throat loudly. Draco turned his head slowly. His eyes smoldered.
" What." He did not ask, merely said as was customary. "Umm, I think these are the books you were looking for. I had them." " Should have known. How, pray tell, did you know what I was looking for?" " You were disrupting the entire library, everyone knows what you were looking for." Draco took the books, and set them on the table disinterestedly. Hermione flushed. " So, uhhh, what were you guys talking about?" " What could ever make you think you have a right to know let alone comprehend? I don't draw the connection, and I frankly don't know why you care. Is there a reason?"
Hermiones eyes flashed.
" What was the saying? Keep your friends close and your enemy's closer? Or have you heard of it?"
Draco's interest was piqued. " Well, Granger, we are indeed enemies. Pansy and I were discussing the pros and cons of a plot to overthrow our families, and descend our throne. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have homework." He swept the books from the table and into his bag, and strode from the library, parting the students effortlessly. Hermione gaped after him, and Pansy watched him leave emotions, if any, were concealed. Hermione turned, mouth agape, to Pansy. " I really didn't mean for - !" she spluttered. The Slytherin turned to Hermione. "You do realize what he told you? As far as I know, besides me, you are the only living soul who knows. I'd keep it shut if I were you; we are after all, still Slytherins. Now, if you'll excuse me, Draco has a book I need." Pansy stood and exited the library, also leaving a wake, and her robes swirled spectacularly, as had Draco's. Hermione, shocked, and trying to adjust to her expanding conception of the Slytherins, watched the other girl leave, watching the robes swirl in a non-existent draft. 'How do they do that?' her only coherent thought.
A/N While writing this chapter, the movie Footloose blaring in the background, I had an interesting idea for the story, which may or may not have had something to do with Kevin Bacon's dance solo, this idea, and this idea only, will ensure further updates, for my satisfaction if nothing else. I suggest, however, that you don't read them. Read instead, Harry Potter and the Year of Rebellion, an amazing story which is on a level unattainable by this author. Cast aside my hocky claptrap and satiate your mind with Full-Pensieve's genius. Thank you.