Disclaimer: I own nothing. Zero. Nada. So please don't sue me for anything
here. You really won't get anything except the lint from my pockets.
Author's Notes: Yay! Another one from me! HP this time! It's a bit lame, I know, but I couldn't help it. Silver71's idea rocked, so this kind-of goes out to her! Yay! I feel like continuing this and it'll get better and very un-clichéd, I promise! I don't have a beta right now since she's in school so yeah. Sorry if there are any mistakes and the like. Xander won't be a main character, I promise! I just need her for the plot, then she can go back to my OC box and sleep until I need her again. Nyahahaha! ü
Please read and review! Thanks so much to everyone! And tell me if I should continue this or not. Heehee.ü Flamers are welcome as well...They amuse me.ü
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"Where is fancy bred; in the heart or in the head?"
A boy with longish white-blond hair and steel blue eyes looked up from his journal to see a slightly chubby, petite-framed girl with flaming red hair be ushered into the room by a house elf. The 16-year-old boy smiled in reply to the greeting. It was his favorite line from the last movie they had seen together, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
"Alexandria, always a pleasure to be in your presence,"
The girl scowled as the large oak doors to his room closed behind her. Instead of complaining she swept across the room and sat on his lap, swinging her legs over the armrest and leaning against the opposite one. "Father's downstairs in the drawing room, discussing things with Aunt Narcissa, so they sent me up here to bother you instead," she explained with a sly smirk.
Draco Malfoy threw the fairly sized notebook and black eagle feather quill onto the plush Persian rug before he accidentally poked her with it. At least, he would claim it accidental. Then he leaned back and brushed the hair out of her sparkling blue eyes. "And how do you plan on bothering me more than you have, O Annoying One?" he teased, a playful smile on his sensual pink lips.
Alexandria Antoinette Trousseaux, better known as Xander or Zan, stuck out her lower lip as a form of retaliation. "Don't be such a smart-ass, Malfoy,"
"Why not? I make a sexy one, don't you think?"
She rolled her eyes as her ring-clad fingers toyed with his ears. "Stuck-up prat," she accused.
"Ah, you mean SEXY stuck-up prat," he corrected, smirking even more.
Ignoring the need to think of a comeback, Xander picked the notebook up off the floor and started leafing through it. The boy didn't object, and simply allowed her to rest her head in the crook of his neck so that he could at least see what page she was on.
She stopped at a page where there was an illustration of a girl with long, flowing hair, dressed in a tunic, gazing peacefully up at perfect night sky. On the other side of what she thought was a mirror (perhaps it was a wall), it was the same girl, except her hair was cut short and was flying everywhere with the black lines emanating from where her hands were placed over her heart, and she was staring down sadly at the flames that were eating the hem of her inked-in black skirt. On the adjacent page was a poem entitled "Shattered". It read:
You're perfect,
Or so everyone says.
They think you're a goddess,
Clad in golden lies and deceit.
And so begin the countless days
Of living out the lie,
And acting like you're happy.
But I'm the one who sees,
And I'm the one who knows
That you're getting sick of this endless rhapsody,
Of shrill, meaningless notes.
I see the side you're afraid to show,
Because you don't want them to see,
Don't want them to know
That you aren't at all perfect,
Not in the slightest little bit.
You think you're nothing,
You think you aren't fit
To have the things you have
And know the things you know.
To you, nothing has ever mattered.
You're shattered.
Draco watched Xander's face carefully as it went from mild interest, to cold and drawn, and now to amusement. He just kept playing with a strand of her dyed red hair, anxious to hear what she thought of his poem. Over the years he had learned to trust her judgment, even if it wasn't always what he wanted to hear. That was one of the things he'd grown to love about her- her blunt and in-your-face-ness, if that was even a word.
Xander inspected his face curiously. "Penny for your thoughts, Malfoy?"
Draco snapped out of his reverie. "Sorry, what's a penny?"
She rolled her eyes again. It had become a habit of hers when she was around him. "It's a Muggle expression, never mind,"
"If you say so. Wait, tell me what you think," He was being uncharacteristically nervous, which was a big deal for him if he had to admit it.
The younger girl stared at the drawing and smiled ever so slightly. "Still in love with her, are you?" she teased.
He tossed his head back with a groan. "I'm talking about the poem, Zan,"
"Well so am I!" she said indignantly, punching his shoulder with a ring- clad fist. Her face suddenly changed. "Ooh, someone's been working out!" she purred.
Draco smirked. "I'm glad my fiancée approves. You don't look so bad yourself. Well, less grotesque than usual that is," he added with a playful grin.
Xander almost let out a sigh of relief. Thankfully, the poem was forgotten, because she honestly didn't feel up to talking to Draco about hopeless love and whatnot. They were already betrothed, it didn't mean she had to become his shrink before the time came that she had to, right? Then finally what he said registered and she punched him harder. "Are you implying that I'm ugly and," A fake gasp. "fat, Mister Malfoy?" She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him as she twisted his ear painfully.
He squirmed out of her grip and attacked her waist. "See? See? Look! It's all fat!" he yelled, pinching the non-existent fat on her tummy. It was obvious that it was a lie. At the most, Xander's waistline was probably "26. She still wasn't as tall as she would have preferred to be, but she gave off the feeling that she didn't really care about looks. Now her straight, waist-length hair was dyed a violent red. The last time he'd seen her, it had been a bright neon blue matching her minx-like eyes. She would have been pretty if she didn't look as tired as she normally did, and if she smiled once in a while.
He suddenly remembered the evening of the celebration of their betrothal. He was roughly around two, and was infuriated to notice that people were ignoring him, a Malfoy!, and instead crooning over a roomy, jeweled crib. When everyone had left the room, he climbed into the crib and found a gurgling baby with laughing eyes sucking on her thumb. The two-year-old Draco was enraged that he'd been upstaged by an infant, and poked her in retaliation. She bit his finger.
That was his earliest memory of Xander. They always spent summers and vacations together, despite the fact that she went to Durmstrang and he attended Hogwarts. It wasn't until 3rd year that his father had explained their betrothal, so he had spent the year trying to rid his heart of all traces of Hermione Granger. It was strange how her slapping him could've set off so many unfamiliar emotions.
Truth be told, he knew he was more compatible with Xander, and choosing a Trousseaux earlier on was probably the only right thing his father had ever done since he was now dead and at least he'd get his wish that the Malfoy line would remain pureblood. Draco just wished that he could get Hermione out of his head. Xander had found out about it when she visited the summer after fourth year, when she came into his room while he was gazing at a picture of her that he'd nicked from that geeky Collin Creevy. She didn't mind it at all, because it was clear that they didn't love each other in a romantic way. Getting married was just something they had to do so that their families would shut up and ignore them. After that she teased the shit out of him.
"Jesus, I hate it when you blank out like some psycho freak," Xander complained. Draco finally snapped out of his trance and turned back to her, expression apologetic. "So are you? You know, in love with her," she queried, now inspecting her short, graffiti painted nails.
He let out a long breath. "I don't know. I mean, it's been 3 years,"
She let out a soft "Mnn-hmn," as she tried to get some dirt out from under her nails. "You know, if you're really so stuck on it, why don't you just tell her? What's there to lose? It's not like she'll hex you right then and there. After all, you helped them defeat Voldy, didn't you?"
"All I did last year was tell them where The Dark Lord was," Draco reminded her.
"Oh, stop calling him 'the dark lord' or whatever. He's not lord of anything. He's DEAD, Malfoy, no need to pay some memory respect,"
"Easy for you to say, you didn't meet him up close and way too personal,"
She raised an eyebrow. "He went into your head, huh?"
Draco gave an unintentional shudder. "I'd rather not relive that, thanks,"
Xander stood up and went to inspect his bookshelf. "Well this is your last year, so you might as well just tell her. You went through a life or death situation with Potter and his friends, so I doubt they'll curse you if you proclaim undying, eternal love for one of their best friends. At least, not right away. They might want to bait you and draw you out, then do something horrendous, like actually let you date her!"
"Is this that new thing I heard about? What was it called?- Sarcasm?" he smirked, watching her as she moved around the room, tossing things around and messing up his immaculate room much like a hurricane would.
She glanced back at him as she opened a large, hardbound spell book. "Look, tell the girl how you feel, or I'll do it for you,"
"And how to you propose to do so? Ambush her in her Muggle home and tell her 'Hey, I'm Draco Malfoy's fiancée, and I just wanted you to know that he's madly in love with you and he's too big a coward to tell you himself but you can't have a relationship because we're getting married after you graduate'?"
"Not in those words, you dunderheaded prat. As I'm sure you're aware, I'm more articulate than you are," she said loftily.
"Yes, and you're a much bigger pain in the arse as well,"
"Bite me, Malfoy,"
"Oh, how articulate you are, Xander," Draco shot back, every syllable oozing with sarcasm.
The girl simply flipped him off and continued ransacking his room. It was curious how she made flipping people off look graceful and elegant, but then again that was what she'd dedicated her life to: Proving how stupid people were to believe first impressions. "Wait, you never did tell me what happened at Granddad's school last year. I just read about it in the paper. I daresay you all weren't in your best state when the picture for The Prophet was taken,"
"Don't remind me about the gits over at The Prophet. Mum had a field day when she saw me on the front page. Said my dad would be turning over in his grave to see me side-by-side with his greatest enemy and a Muggle,"
"I always knew you'd be in the papers, just not for something good. Maybe someday you'll still get into Witch Weekly because of some scandal." She grinned as she tossed a pillow towards him, then darted into his bathroom. "So tell me what happened. I want a first-hand account,"
"Does it really matter? He'd dead, that's it. Just like you said a minute ago," Draco whined, standing and walking over to his bed so that he could see what she was doing.
She poked her head out of the door, and blew a stray strand of red hair out of her face. It was endearing how she acted like a child when no one was around to reprimand her. "All right, what really happened? You're dancing around the question like a lunatic. Does it have anything to do with that Granger girl? Or have you gone all fag on me and kissed the great Harry Potter?"
He pulled a face. "Oh honestly, Alexandria, it's just after lunch. Please don't nauseate me further," he said, causing her to grin, but then she just popped her head back into the bathroom. A second later he heard a small explosion. "Zan, what in Merlin's name are you doing in there!?"
Her voice came muffled and strained. "Nothing! It's just-" A small scream. "There's a fire and-"
Out of nowhere, a house-elf appeared and extinguished the flame with a flick of its wrist. It bowed to both of them and disappeared with a small 'pop'.
Xander blinked and let out a sigh of relief. "It's a relief to be at your house, it really is. If I burn something, no one'll find out!"
"The house-elf did," Draco pointed out.
She finally came out and he caught a glimpse of the remains of his once- orderly bathroom. She threw herself onto the bed and buried her face the pillow beside him. "I love your pillows," she mumbled.
"Why?"
"Because they smell like you. All peppermint-y and sweet,"
Draco blinked down at her, hardly daring to believe what he'd heard. "Are you all right, Zan? You're being-" He let out a fake gasp. "dare I say it? Sentimental!"
Her head snapped up and she tossed the pillow into his face. "You're such a prat, you know that?"
"I'm aware of that fact, and I'm very proud of it too," he grinned.
"You've nothing to be proud of except an exceptionally large ego," she quipped.
"And all you can be proud of is your exceptionally large arse,"
Her mouth was barely open to snipe back at him, but the doors opened and a small house-elf bowed, as if afraid that he were intruding in matters that would determine the fate of the entire Wizarding World. Huh, yeah right.
"Mistress Narcissa and Master Gabriel are requesting you to be coming down, sir and ma'am!" it squeaked.
Xander tossed him another glare and stalked out of the room after the elf, leaving Draco smirking to himself. He ran a hand through his white-blond hair as he passed a hallway mirror, noting how much he'd grown since 3rd year. No longer did he wear his hair like his mother wanted him to, but instead it fell down straight into his eyes. He wasn't small and mousy anymore, thanks to Quidditch and those curious Muggle sports Xander had introduced him to, and since he'd formed a friendship with Harry and Ron that past year, he'd gone through a lot of self-realizations. In other words, he wasn't the Slytherin Prince anymore.
Maybe he had a chance of Hermione not slapping him again after all.
Author's Notes: Yay! Another one from me! HP this time! It's a bit lame, I know, but I couldn't help it. Silver71's idea rocked, so this kind-of goes out to her! Yay! I feel like continuing this and it'll get better and very un-clichéd, I promise! I don't have a beta right now since she's in school so yeah. Sorry if there are any mistakes and the like. Xander won't be a main character, I promise! I just need her for the plot, then she can go back to my OC box and sleep until I need her again. Nyahahaha! ü
Please read and review! Thanks so much to everyone! And tell me if I should continue this or not. Heehee.ü Flamers are welcome as well...They amuse me.ü
--------------------------
"Where is fancy bred; in the heart or in the head?"
A boy with longish white-blond hair and steel blue eyes looked up from his journal to see a slightly chubby, petite-framed girl with flaming red hair be ushered into the room by a house elf. The 16-year-old boy smiled in reply to the greeting. It was his favorite line from the last movie they had seen together, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
"Alexandria, always a pleasure to be in your presence,"
The girl scowled as the large oak doors to his room closed behind her. Instead of complaining she swept across the room and sat on his lap, swinging her legs over the armrest and leaning against the opposite one. "Father's downstairs in the drawing room, discussing things with Aunt Narcissa, so they sent me up here to bother you instead," she explained with a sly smirk.
Draco Malfoy threw the fairly sized notebook and black eagle feather quill onto the plush Persian rug before he accidentally poked her with it. At least, he would claim it accidental. Then he leaned back and brushed the hair out of her sparkling blue eyes. "And how do you plan on bothering me more than you have, O Annoying One?" he teased, a playful smile on his sensual pink lips.
Alexandria Antoinette Trousseaux, better known as Xander or Zan, stuck out her lower lip as a form of retaliation. "Don't be such a smart-ass, Malfoy,"
"Why not? I make a sexy one, don't you think?"
She rolled her eyes as her ring-clad fingers toyed with his ears. "Stuck-up prat," she accused.
"Ah, you mean SEXY stuck-up prat," he corrected, smirking even more.
Ignoring the need to think of a comeback, Xander picked the notebook up off the floor and started leafing through it. The boy didn't object, and simply allowed her to rest her head in the crook of his neck so that he could at least see what page she was on.
She stopped at a page where there was an illustration of a girl with long, flowing hair, dressed in a tunic, gazing peacefully up at perfect night sky. On the other side of what she thought was a mirror (perhaps it was a wall), it was the same girl, except her hair was cut short and was flying everywhere with the black lines emanating from where her hands were placed over her heart, and she was staring down sadly at the flames that were eating the hem of her inked-in black skirt. On the adjacent page was a poem entitled "Shattered". It read:
You're perfect,
Or so everyone says.
They think you're a goddess,
Clad in golden lies and deceit.
And so begin the countless days
Of living out the lie,
And acting like you're happy.
But I'm the one who sees,
And I'm the one who knows
That you're getting sick of this endless rhapsody,
Of shrill, meaningless notes.
I see the side you're afraid to show,
Because you don't want them to see,
Don't want them to know
That you aren't at all perfect,
Not in the slightest little bit.
You think you're nothing,
You think you aren't fit
To have the things you have
And know the things you know.
To you, nothing has ever mattered.
You're shattered.
Draco watched Xander's face carefully as it went from mild interest, to cold and drawn, and now to amusement. He just kept playing with a strand of her dyed red hair, anxious to hear what she thought of his poem. Over the years he had learned to trust her judgment, even if it wasn't always what he wanted to hear. That was one of the things he'd grown to love about her- her blunt and in-your-face-ness, if that was even a word.
Xander inspected his face curiously. "Penny for your thoughts, Malfoy?"
Draco snapped out of his reverie. "Sorry, what's a penny?"
She rolled her eyes again. It had become a habit of hers when she was around him. "It's a Muggle expression, never mind,"
"If you say so. Wait, tell me what you think," He was being uncharacteristically nervous, which was a big deal for him if he had to admit it.
The younger girl stared at the drawing and smiled ever so slightly. "Still in love with her, are you?" she teased.
He tossed his head back with a groan. "I'm talking about the poem, Zan,"
"Well so am I!" she said indignantly, punching his shoulder with a ring- clad fist. Her face suddenly changed. "Ooh, someone's been working out!" she purred.
Draco smirked. "I'm glad my fiancée approves. You don't look so bad yourself. Well, less grotesque than usual that is," he added with a playful grin.
Xander almost let out a sigh of relief. Thankfully, the poem was forgotten, because she honestly didn't feel up to talking to Draco about hopeless love and whatnot. They were already betrothed, it didn't mean she had to become his shrink before the time came that she had to, right? Then finally what he said registered and she punched him harder. "Are you implying that I'm ugly and," A fake gasp. "fat, Mister Malfoy?" She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him as she twisted his ear painfully.
He squirmed out of her grip and attacked her waist. "See? See? Look! It's all fat!" he yelled, pinching the non-existent fat on her tummy. It was obvious that it was a lie. At the most, Xander's waistline was probably "26. She still wasn't as tall as she would have preferred to be, but she gave off the feeling that she didn't really care about looks. Now her straight, waist-length hair was dyed a violent red. The last time he'd seen her, it had been a bright neon blue matching her minx-like eyes. She would have been pretty if she didn't look as tired as she normally did, and if she smiled once in a while.
He suddenly remembered the evening of the celebration of their betrothal. He was roughly around two, and was infuriated to notice that people were ignoring him, a Malfoy!, and instead crooning over a roomy, jeweled crib. When everyone had left the room, he climbed into the crib and found a gurgling baby with laughing eyes sucking on her thumb. The two-year-old Draco was enraged that he'd been upstaged by an infant, and poked her in retaliation. She bit his finger.
That was his earliest memory of Xander. They always spent summers and vacations together, despite the fact that she went to Durmstrang and he attended Hogwarts. It wasn't until 3rd year that his father had explained their betrothal, so he had spent the year trying to rid his heart of all traces of Hermione Granger. It was strange how her slapping him could've set off so many unfamiliar emotions.
Truth be told, he knew he was more compatible with Xander, and choosing a Trousseaux earlier on was probably the only right thing his father had ever done since he was now dead and at least he'd get his wish that the Malfoy line would remain pureblood. Draco just wished that he could get Hermione out of his head. Xander had found out about it when she visited the summer after fourth year, when she came into his room while he was gazing at a picture of her that he'd nicked from that geeky Collin Creevy. She didn't mind it at all, because it was clear that they didn't love each other in a romantic way. Getting married was just something they had to do so that their families would shut up and ignore them. After that she teased the shit out of him.
"Jesus, I hate it when you blank out like some psycho freak," Xander complained. Draco finally snapped out of his trance and turned back to her, expression apologetic. "So are you? You know, in love with her," she queried, now inspecting her short, graffiti painted nails.
He let out a long breath. "I don't know. I mean, it's been 3 years,"
She let out a soft "Mnn-hmn," as she tried to get some dirt out from under her nails. "You know, if you're really so stuck on it, why don't you just tell her? What's there to lose? It's not like she'll hex you right then and there. After all, you helped them defeat Voldy, didn't you?"
"All I did last year was tell them where The Dark Lord was," Draco reminded her.
"Oh, stop calling him 'the dark lord' or whatever. He's not lord of anything. He's DEAD, Malfoy, no need to pay some memory respect,"
"Easy for you to say, you didn't meet him up close and way too personal,"
She raised an eyebrow. "He went into your head, huh?"
Draco gave an unintentional shudder. "I'd rather not relive that, thanks,"
Xander stood up and went to inspect his bookshelf. "Well this is your last year, so you might as well just tell her. You went through a life or death situation with Potter and his friends, so I doubt they'll curse you if you proclaim undying, eternal love for one of their best friends. At least, not right away. They might want to bait you and draw you out, then do something horrendous, like actually let you date her!"
"Is this that new thing I heard about? What was it called?- Sarcasm?" he smirked, watching her as she moved around the room, tossing things around and messing up his immaculate room much like a hurricane would.
She glanced back at him as she opened a large, hardbound spell book. "Look, tell the girl how you feel, or I'll do it for you,"
"And how to you propose to do so? Ambush her in her Muggle home and tell her 'Hey, I'm Draco Malfoy's fiancée, and I just wanted you to know that he's madly in love with you and he's too big a coward to tell you himself but you can't have a relationship because we're getting married after you graduate'?"
"Not in those words, you dunderheaded prat. As I'm sure you're aware, I'm more articulate than you are," she said loftily.
"Yes, and you're a much bigger pain in the arse as well,"
"Bite me, Malfoy,"
"Oh, how articulate you are, Xander," Draco shot back, every syllable oozing with sarcasm.
The girl simply flipped him off and continued ransacking his room. It was curious how she made flipping people off look graceful and elegant, but then again that was what she'd dedicated her life to: Proving how stupid people were to believe first impressions. "Wait, you never did tell me what happened at Granddad's school last year. I just read about it in the paper. I daresay you all weren't in your best state when the picture for The Prophet was taken,"
"Don't remind me about the gits over at The Prophet. Mum had a field day when she saw me on the front page. Said my dad would be turning over in his grave to see me side-by-side with his greatest enemy and a Muggle,"
"I always knew you'd be in the papers, just not for something good. Maybe someday you'll still get into Witch Weekly because of some scandal." She grinned as she tossed a pillow towards him, then darted into his bathroom. "So tell me what happened. I want a first-hand account,"
"Does it really matter? He'd dead, that's it. Just like you said a minute ago," Draco whined, standing and walking over to his bed so that he could see what she was doing.
She poked her head out of the door, and blew a stray strand of red hair out of her face. It was endearing how she acted like a child when no one was around to reprimand her. "All right, what really happened? You're dancing around the question like a lunatic. Does it have anything to do with that Granger girl? Or have you gone all fag on me and kissed the great Harry Potter?"
He pulled a face. "Oh honestly, Alexandria, it's just after lunch. Please don't nauseate me further," he said, causing her to grin, but then she just popped her head back into the bathroom. A second later he heard a small explosion. "Zan, what in Merlin's name are you doing in there!?"
Her voice came muffled and strained. "Nothing! It's just-" A small scream. "There's a fire and-"
Out of nowhere, a house-elf appeared and extinguished the flame with a flick of its wrist. It bowed to both of them and disappeared with a small 'pop'.
Xander blinked and let out a sigh of relief. "It's a relief to be at your house, it really is. If I burn something, no one'll find out!"
"The house-elf did," Draco pointed out.
She finally came out and he caught a glimpse of the remains of his once- orderly bathroom. She threw herself onto the bed and buried her face the pillow beside him. "I love your pillows," she mumbled.
"Why?"
"Because they smell like you. All peppermint-y and sweet,"
Draco blinked down at her, hardly daring to believe what he'd heard. "Are you all right, Zan? You're being-" He let out a fake gasp. "dare I say it? Sentimental!"
Her head snapped up and she tossed the pillow into his face. "You're such a prat, you know that?"
"I'm aware of that fact, and I'm very proud of it too," he grinned.
"You've nothing to be proud of except an exceptionally large ego," she quipped.
"And all you can be proud of is your exceptionally large arse,"
Her mouth was barely open to snipe back at him, but the doors opened and a small house-elf bowed, as if afraid that he were intruding in matters that would determine the fate of the entire Wizarding World. Huh, yeah right.
"Mistress Narcissa and Master Gabriel are requesting you to be coming down, sir and ma'am!" it squeaked.
Xander tossed him another glare and stalked out of the room after the elf, leaving Draco smirking to himself. He ran a hand through his white-blond hair as he passed a hallway mirror, noting how much he'd grown since 3rd year. No longer did he wear his hair like his mother wanted him to, but instead it fell down straight into his eyes. He wasn't small and mousy anymore, thanks to Quidditch and those curious Muggle sports Xander had introduced him to, and since he'd formed a friendship with Harry and Ron that past year, he'd gone through a lot of self-realizations. In other words, he wasn't the Slytherin Prince anymore.
Maybe he had a chance of Hermione not slapping him again after all.