Author's Note: short, but I'm tired. It's 4:20 (yes, all you stoners, 4:20) in the AM and I'm tired as hell. This is a pretty crappy chapter. Get over it.
Chapter Four:
"DISGRACE!" Lucius shrieked, ripping the yellowed parchment in his hands to shreds onto the coffee table, "HE'S TAINTED THE MALFOY NAME WITH HIS LEWD ACTS! HE'S RUINED US!"
"Lucius!" Narcissa hissed. She was going to attempt to stick up for her son. He was all she had. Her reason for living, if you will. "Remember how we were once?"
Narcissa looked away after she had said this statement. She and Lucius both knew it: she wasn't just referring how'd they gotten to second base at 16. It was a general statement: Remember how we were once? Young, innocent, carefree...supposedly in love? Not just trophies for one another to brandish proudly at colleagues?
Lucius shot her a menacing glare and collapsed at his special, head-of-the-table seat in the dining room. "I'm absolutely ashamed. He isn't worthy of bearing the name Malfoy." He glared out at the dark night, where stars sparkled their own trepidation for the situation. "He isn't worthy at all."
Ron sat in the parlor at Grimmauld Place, watching the fire crackle warmly in the fireplace. He felt himself nodding off, but then he would force himself back to attention. He was going to stay up until Harry got here. He would!
He glanced about the room. Hermione had buried herself behind Hogwarts, A History, as was quite usual. Hermione was obviously no different tonight. Ron felt the edges of his lips curve upwards. He'd like to keep it like that, thank you very much.
Ginny lay curled up in her chair, asleep. Fred, George, Bill and Charlie sat on the floor, discussing something. Ron didn't really care to listen. He let his gaze rest on Hermione again. There was a sound of the door opening and shutting.
"Harry's here!" Ron cried joyfully. He jumped out of the chair and scurried down the hall. Harry stood there, clutching his trunk in one hand, his broom in the other, looking gleeful. His hair stuck up in all directions, looking more unruly than ever. Hermione raced down the hall and straight into Harry's arms. Ron watched a bit jealously. But then it hit him: Hermione was his, all his. Completely, utterly his. She'd told him so herself.
Harry grinned. He was so glad to be home, so, so glad.
Draco smiled softly to himself. He'd spent the whole day with Blaise. His adorable, wonderful, perfect Blaise. He'd eaten ice cream with her, and then they'd just gone shopping, though neither had actually bought anything. All he could think about was how she'd held her poise, even when the dumbass waiter spilt chocolate ice cream all over her, how she'd just smiled calmly.
Someone very mean and critical (coughpansycough) would say the girl was on pot or something, the way she always smiled calmly in the face of possible problems. But her eyes were too glittery, too clear to be anywhere closed to glazed.
He couldn't stop thinking about how she was quite possibly the only girl in the whole fucking world who looked THAT amazing with all of that chocolate on her sweater. How she seemed so aware, yet so oblivious to the fact that she was the most beautiful girl, well, anywhere that she went.
Even with vast amounds of chocolate smeared all over her sweater.
Yes.
Draco still hadn't kissed her yet, but that would come eventually. He could wait as long as he needed to.
I smell a stalker.
Severus sat up in his bed, annoyed. A stupid door slamming had awaken him. He had a black eye, a blood lip and a broken arm. How hurt did one have to get before they were rewarded total silence?
Probably that foul Potter. Severus rolled his eyes and rolled over in his bed. Always getting attention that one, simply for breaking the rules. Just like his prat father. Severus shuddered at the very though of him. Pretentious asshole. Arrogant bastard. Cocky...what was another way to describe him? Cocky what? Cocky git. Yes. That would have to do until Severus though of something better.
Severus grinned at this detrimental thought, closing his eyes. Until more obnoxious children thumped down the hall, sounding rather like a large herd of elephants than a small group of children. Severus groaned audibly, pulling the covers over his head. He would have to resort to counting sheep tonight. He'd heard it from some muggle. Counting sheep...how that would get one to sleep, he wasn't sure. But he'd give it a try...
Pansy lay in her bed, the covers pulled up to her chin. Wow, her life was ruined. Absolutely. Her parents thought she was a slut, Draco was probably mad at her, or at least at her parents, and all the Slytherins were probably gossiping about what a whore she was at this very moment.
Draco probably missed her. Was probably counting the days until he could taste her sweet tounge again.
Ew, disgusting.
Draco probably was wishing he'd have stayed and faced her parents, like well, a man. Even Pansy couldn't deny it, Draco had been an absoulte wuss in that situation.
And now he was paying for it, because now he wouldn't be able to spend time with his beloved Pansy.
I'll bet he's real crestfallen. I'll bet he's completely miserable.
Yeah, right.
Author's Note: I'm going to bed.
Chapter Four:
"DISGRACE!" Lucius shrieked, ripping the yellowed parchment in his hands to shreds onto the coffee table, "HE'S TAINTED THE MALFOY NAME WITH HIS LEWD ACTS! HE'S RUINED US!"
"Lucius!" Narcissa hissed. She was going to attempt to stick up for her son. He was all she had. Her reason for living, if you will. "Remember how we were once?"
Narcissa looked away after she had said this statement. She and Lucius both knew it: she wasn't just referring how'd they gotten to second base at 16. It was a general statement: Remember how we were once? Young, innocent, carefree...supposedly in love? Not just trophies for one another to brandish proudly at colleagues?
Lucius shot her a menacing glare and collapsed at his special, head-of-the-table seat in the dining room. "I'm absolutely ashamed. He isn't worthy of bearing the name Malfoy." He glared out at the dark night, where stars sparkled their own trepidation for the situation. "He isn't worthy at all."
Ron sat in the parlor at Grimmauld Place, watching the fire crackle warmly in the fireplace. He felt himself nodding off, but then he would force himself back to attention. He was going to stay up until Harry got here. He would!
He glanced about the room. Hermione had buried herself behind Hogwarts, A History, as was quite usual. Hermione was obviously no different tonight. Ron felt the edges of his lips curve upwards. He'd like to keep it like that, thank you very much.
Ginny lay curled up in her chair, asleep. Fred, George, Bill and Charlie sat on the floor, discussing something. Ron didn't really care to listen. He let his gaze rest on Hermione again. There was a sound of the door opening and shutting.
"Harry's here!" Ron cried joyfully. He jumped out of the chair and scurried down the hall. Harry stood there, clutching his trunk in one hand, his broom in the other, looking gleeful. His hair stuck up in all directions, looking more unruly than ever. Hermione raced down the hall and straight into Harry's arms. Ron watched a bit jealously. But then it hit him: Hermione was his, all his. Completely, utterly his. She'd told him so herself.
Harry grinned. He was so glad to be home, so, so glad.
Draco smiled softly to himself. He'd spent the whole day with Blaise. His adorable, wonderful, perfect Blaise. He'd eaten ice cream with her, and then they'd just gone shopping, though neither had actually bought anything. All he could think about was how she'd held her poise, even when the dumbass waiter spilt chocolate ice cream all over her, how she'd just smiled calmly.
Someone very mean and critical (coughpansycough) would say the girl was on pot or something, the way she always smiled calmly in the face of possible problems. But her eyes were too glittery, too clear to be anywhere closed to glazed.
He couldn't stop thinking about how she was quite possibly the only girl in the whole fucking world who looked THAT amazing with all of that chocolate on her sweater. How she seemed so aware, yet so oblivious to the fact that she was the most beautiful girl, well, anywhere that she went.
Even with vast amounds of chocolate smeared all over her sweater.
Yes.
Draco still hadn't kissed her yet, but that would come eventually. He could wait as long as he needed to.
I smell a stalker.
Severus sat up in his bed, annoyed. A stupid door slamming had awaken him. He had a black eye, a blood lip and a broken arm. How hurt did one have to get before they were rewarded total silence?
Probably that foul Potter. Severus rolled his eyes and rolled over in his bed. Always getting attention that one, simply for breaking the rules. Just like his prat father. Severus shuddered at the very though of him. Pretentious asshole. Arrogant bastard. Cocky...what was another way to describe him? Cocky what? Cocky git. Yes. That would have to do until Severus though of something better.
Severus grinned at this detrimental thought, closing his eyes. Until more obnoxious children thumped down the hall, sounding rather like a large herd of elephants than a small group of children. Severus groaned audibly, pulling the covers over his head. He would have to resort to counting sheep tonight. He'd heard it from some muggle. Counting sheep...how that would get one to sleep, he wasn't sure. But he'd give it a try...
Pansy lay in her bed, the covers pulled up to her chin. Wow, her life was ruined. Absolutely. Her parents thought she was a slut, Draco was probably mad at her, or at least at her parents, and all the Slytherins were probably gossiping about what a whore she was at this very moment.
Draco probably missed her. Was probably counting the days until he could taste her sweet tounge again.
Ew, disgusting.
Draco probably was wishing he'd have stayed and faced her parents, like well, a man. Even Pansy couldn't deny it, Draco had been an absoulte wuss in that situation.
And now he was paying for it, because now he wouldn't be able to spend time with his beloved Pansy.
I'll bet he's real crestfallen. I'll bet he's completely miserable.
Yeah, right.
Author's Note: I'm going to bed.