A/N Thanks to everyone who has read this story! I still don't own anything. . . not even the computer. Ah well.
FF did some odd things to the previous chapter, so I would appreciate it if you would look and see if you have read that
one. If so, fantabulous. If not, please do so. I live for the accolades (or criticisms) of you wonderful people.
***********************************************************************************************************
There is a kind of wonderful freedom in knowing intrinsically that you are damned. Few people ever know that kind of freedom.
Even fewer find it before they are 16 years old.
Of course I have always known what path I am expected to take. I am supposed to graduate with the highest honors in my class
(fat chance of that, with Granger in my year), marry my fellow pureblood Slytherin Draco, have several children so traditional
values may be instilled into them, and be the good little housewife my mother always pretended she was.
Can you tell I have been listening to that tripe for a while?
I have known since I was old enough to comprehend the meaning of the words "arranged marriage" that I would be marrying Draco
Malfoy. Our families, like almost all the pureblood families, have ties going back 12 generations. It was only logical to our parents that
we continue this Malfoy-Parkinson relationship, so Draco and I have been thrust together for as long as I can remember.
I despise the pompous, preening ass more than I can say. But he does have his uses. So I simper and dote and pretend to be the idyllic
little mindless plaything he wants. Stupid boy.
His parents seem to be the epitome of Slytherin Pride. Narcissa is beautiful, doting and obedient to her husband. Lucius is handsome,
well spoken and a philanthropist. They are everything 'good' children should aspire to be.
They are also Death Eaters.
Oh, don't look so shocked. Of course I know what Draco's parents are. I am not a complete moron, and it isn't as if he hasn't been
bragging about their exploits for the last umpteen years. You can't talk about the 'secret chamber' under your parents' drawing room
and not expect people to draw conclusions.
I don't want to be another Mrs. Malfoy, with a painted on smile and vapid expression plastered onto my face. I have seen countless
portraits of countless generations of them in Malfoy Manor. I know Narcissa isn't as dumb as she puts on. It's simply easier to nod
and smile, to not think about anything and let Lucius handle the family affairs. I can't imagine living like that, no matter how much money I
would acquire. My aspirations are much more lofty.
It's amazing what you can learn from the restricted section of the library. Even my parents library doesn't have the amount of knowledge
the Hogwarts Library has, and I used to think even the Dark Lord himself could learn things from my fathers' books. All this knowledge at our
fingertips, and half the school wouldn't know how to use it.
So few people know about my bookish tendencies, let alone what I am really capable of. I haven't been one to show off my knowledge and
talents, especially here at school. I don't spend hours in the library proper, like Granger does. There is no subtlety in that. No finesse.
I take the books and read them on my own, during the darkest part of the night. There I can learn the intricacies of the spells I will need later
in life. There I can prepare myself for what's coming.
I already know I am going to wind up in Azkaban in the end. Sure, I might die before they send me, but somehow I know that I'll be playing
dice with the Dementors before I am thirty, if for no other reason than guilt by association.
So why not earn the fate that's waiting for me?
I have realized that I'm going to go down with the ship, whether I want to or not, and I have come to terms with that fact. In all honesty, I am
even looking forward to it a little bit.
You see, I don't need money or the petty conveniences it can buy. I could never work a day in my life and still be financially secure without the
added wealth of the Malfoy fortunes. I don't need servants or clothes or material things to prove my worth, unlike some toffee-nosed blonde ferrets
I could mention. My needs are much more base than that.
I want to see them crawl. All of them.
After years of sucking up to people like Draco and Umbridge and Snape, it will be quite refreshing to come into my own as a witch. I have waited
patiently for 16 years, waiting for the opportune moment to prove myself to the world. I think the Dark Lord will be able to help me in this prospect.
I think my turn is coming soon. And I am determined to make the ride last as long as possible.
FF did some odd things to the previous chapter, so I would appreciate it if you would look and see if you have read that
one. If so, fantabulous. If not, please do so. I live for the accolades (or criticisms) of you wonderful people.
***********************************************************************************************************
There is a kind of wonderful freedom in knowing intrinsically that you are damned. Few people ever know that kind of freedom.
Even fewer find it before they are 16 years old.
Of course I have always known what path I am expected to take. I am supposed to graduate with the highest honors in my class
(fat chance of that, with Granger in my year), marry my fellow pureblood Slytherin Draco, have several children so traditional
values may be instilled into them, and be the good little housewife my mother always pretended she was.
Can you tell I have been listening to that tripe for a while?
I have known since I was old enough to comprehend the meaning of the words "arranged marriage" that I would be marrying Draco
Malfoy. Our families, like almost all the pureblood families, have ties going back 12 generations. It was only logical to our parents that
we continue this Malfoy-Parkinson relationship, so Draco and I have been thrust together for as long as I can remember.
I despise the pompous, preening ass more than I can say. But he does have his uses. So I simper and dote and pretend to be the idyllic
little mindless plaything he wants. Stupid boy.
His parents seem to be the epitome of Slytherin Pride. Narcissa is beautiful, doting and obedient to her husband. Lucius is handsome,
well spoken and a philanthropist. They are everything 'good' children should aspire to be.
They are also Death Eaters.
Oh, don't look so shocked. Of course I know what Draco's parents are. I am not a complete moron, and it isn't as if he hasn't been
bragging about their exploits for the last umpteen years. You can't talk about the 'secret chamber' under your parents' drawing room
and not expect people to draw conclusions.
I don't want to be another Mrs. Malfoy, with a painted on smile and vapid expression plastered onto my face. I have seen countless
portraits of countless generations of them in Malfoy Manor. I know Narcissa isn't as dumb as she puts on. It's simply easier to nod
and smile, to not think about anything and let Lucius handle the family affairs. I can't imagine living like that, no matter how much money I
would acquire. My aspirations are much more lofty.
It's amazing what you can learn from the restricted section of the library. Even my parents library doesn't have the amount of knowledge
the Hogwarts Library has, and I used to think even the Dark Lord himself could learn things from my fathers' books. All this knowledge at our
fingertips, and half the school wouldn't know how to use it.
So few people know about my bookish tendencies, let alone what I am really capable of. I haven't been one to show off my knowledge and
talents, especially here at school. I don't spend hours in the library proper, like Granger does. There is no subtlety in that. No finesse.
I take the books and read them on my own, during the darkest part of the night. There I can learn the intricacies of the spells I will need later
in life. There I can prepare myself for what's coming.
I already know I am going to wind up in Azkaban in the end. Sure, I might die before they send me, but somehow I know that I'll be playing
dice with the Dementors before I am thirty, if for no other reason than guilt by association.
So why not earn the fate that's waiting for me?
I have realized that I'm going to go down with the ship, whether I want to or not, and I have come to terms with that fact. In all honesty, I am
even looking forward to it a little bit.
You see, I don't need money or the petty conveniences it can buy. I could never work a day in my life and still be financially secure without the
added wealth of the Malfoy fortunes. I don't need servants or clothes or material things to prove my worth, unlike some toffee-nosed blonde ferrets
I could mention. My needs are much more base than that.
I want to see them crawl. All of them.
After years of sucking up to people like Draco and Umbridge and Snape, it will be quite refreshing to come into my own as a witch. I have waited
patiently for 16 years, waiting for the opportune moment to prove myself to the world. I think the Dark Lord will be able to help me in this prospect.
I think my turn is coming soon. And I am determined to make the ride last as long as possible.