Author- Dear Aunt Elladora
Title- Selfish Habits
Ship- loosely Draco/Ginny
Disclaimer- all standard disclaimers apply.
It is such a shame, most likely, for you were such a pretty baby when you were born. You were delicate, though you'd deny it whenever your mother told you. You had pale-as-snow skin reminescent to that of your father and mother, and your hair was the cornsilk color of your father. You were gorgeous with the silver-streaked eyes of your mother.
Of course, you grew. You were greedy with your toys and scratched the house elves when they told you what you didn't want to hear. Your mum cooed though, what an adorable baby boy, her Baby Draco.
And do you see her now, Baby Draco? Her once vibrant blonde waves greasy and heavy, yanked back messily in an unfitting black ribbon, tufts of smoke burning her blood shot eyes with the purple rings of unrest under them. Smoking a long cigarette, grasping it with her delicate fingers, clutching it as if it's all she has left, swirling the ice in her brandy with a straw, then gulping it backward.
Your mum doesn't look so happy now, does she? What is she doing, Baby Draco, do you know? Can you see her approaching that tapestry, why, yes, I see. Can you? She's extending that cigarette, she's going to burn a name off. Now, whom could it be? Oh, look, Baby Draco, it's you. Can you feel the sting? Your mother doesn't even love you any more, tsk tsk.
What would Flint say now? Your dear old Coach Flint for your Slytherin Seeker days, the one with the dental problem. What would he say if you strolled up to him one Sund'y in Azkaban and told him about your mother denying you as her son? What would he say if he knew of you and -- her? How would you tell him about that little red head, about how she makes you go weak at the knees?
What about Pansy, if she were alive. Could you go to her home and tell her you were dating the Mudblood lover? Baby Draco, what are you thinking?
You were raised better, honestly. But now you fight in the Mudblood-loving Army, you love a Weasley, you betrayed your father. But it makes you feel good, I bet, knowing your acting the 'good guy,' fighting the 'good fight.'
How dare you disgrace your father's name. Baby Draco, where are you to go now? Home to your tainted-blood Virginia? Home to your Dumbledore-loving companions? Home to the gravesite where your true friends lay, only the dead won't accept you- for you killed them. Bloody all of them, including the true you.
So run, be the good guy, never return to the proper ways, do what makes you feel 'better.' After all, you were raised selfish.
AN- did you get it? love it? hate it? please review!
It is such a shame, most likely, for you were such a pretty baby when you were born. You were delicate, though you'd deny it whenever your mother told you. You had pale-as-snow skin reminescent to that of your father and mother, and your hair was the cornsilk color of your father. You were gorgeous with the silver-streaked eyes of your mother.
Of course, you grew. You were greedy with your toys and scratched the house elves when they told you what you didn't want to hear. Your mum cooed though, what an adorable baby boy, her Baby Draco.
And do you see her now, Baby Draco? Her once vibrant blonde waves greasy and heavy, yanked back messily in an unfitting black ribbon, tufts of smoke burning her blood shot eyes with the purple rings of unrest under them. Smoking a long cigarette, grasping it with her delicate fingers, clutching it as if it's all she has left, swirling the ice in her brandy with a straw, then gulping it backward.
Your mum doesn't look so happy now, does she? What is she doing, Baby Draco, do you know? Can you see her approaching that tapestry, why, yes, I see. Can you? She's extending that cigarette, she's going to burn a name off. Now, whom could it be? Oh, look, Baby Draco, it's you. Can you feel the sting? Your mother doesn't even love you any more, tsk tsk.
What would Flint say now? Your dear old Coach Flint for your Slytherin Seeker days, the one with the dental problem. What would he say if you strolled up to him one Sund'y in Azkaban and told him about your mother denying you as her son? What would he say if he knew of you and -- her? How would you tell him about that little red head, about how she makes you go weak at the knees?
What about Pansy, if she were alive. Could you go to her home and tell her you were dating the Mudblood lover? Baby Draco, what are you thinking?
You were raised better, honestly. But now you fight in the Mudblood-loving Army, you love a Weasley, you betrayed your father. But it makes you feel good, I bet, knowing your acting the 'good guy,' fighting the 'good fight.'
How dare you disgrace your father's name. Baby Draco, where are you to go now? Home to your tainted-blood Virginia? Home to your Dumbledore-loving companions? Home to the gravesite where your true friends lay, only the dead won't accept you- for you killed them. Bloody all of them, including the true you.
So run, be the good guy, never return to the proper ways, do what makes you feel 'better.' After all, you were raised selfish.
AN- did you get it? love it? hate it? please review!