Chapter three, 'Who are we ?'
Christmas arrived slowly, too slowly in my opinion. Each day seemed to be twice as long as they should be. The best day I had, I'm sorry to say, was that day with Potter. Bloody ironic. The following days were nothing to ride home about, not that I'd get to ride home about something, thank you so much, Father. Be sure I'll remember this one well and long.
I had not seen our Golden Boy since that outburst he took out on me. And somehow, somewhere, I felt that there was something missing in me. Some thirst not quenched, some hunger not satisfied. I truly had felt at ease with Potter. I had felt something new. Well, maybe not that new, there was Blaise after all, but perhaps more...fulfilled ?
I had realized that we were not that different from each other. Of course, he had a crappy childhood with dim Muggles for family, of course, he never any friends before Hagrid and the Weasel in his eleventh year of age, of course, he had lost his godfather, a mere two years after reuniting, of course, everyone expected him to defeat Lord Voldemort, of course, everyone had high hopes for the Saviour of the Wizarding World.
And then, there was me. Draco Malfoy, ultimate arch nemesis of the Boy Who Lived, son of an inner-circle Death Eater and promising one himself to boot. Though I won't go as far as to say I had as worse of childhood as him, it wasn't all gold and shimmers, I never had a single friend except that annoying Pansy girl who always wanted to play dress-up and dollies, future couple bonding they had called it before they had realized that it wouldn't work.
Because Lucius Malfoy quickly took in that miss Parkinson would not make his son happy, when he was proud of his successor that is, and that would not do. And he also saw that the poor girl, even at only seven to ten years old, was horribly unattractive and that it would ruin or damage the Malfoy image or reputation, so the calling-off wasn't all that selfless. There had been personal motives.
Of course, I had my dear mother, to which he could refer to either the Weasel Clan or that Black mate, though, it wasn't as much as I had, I'll give you that. Yet I had high expectations for my own future also. I was obviously expected to take after dear father in the Dark Lord's very inner circle. Sometimes, I even wondered if there wasn't some twisted relationship between those two. I had nightmares for a week's worth after that but that's besides the point.
The fact was, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were not all that glittered and not all that different. All that talking we did really opened my eyes. But I wasn't not sure it will change many things. I was positive things will stay just the way they were. I was not about to fall in his arms and confess my undying love or admiration or repentance or anything. I wasn't even sure I'd talk to him again.
And that truce. Ah yes, that truce, that peace offering, that temporary treaty. I had no idea what went through his brain to propose such thing and even less on what went on with me to accept. We bloody even shook on it. Ugh. But I guess, it was over. Fires were open again because, how did he so nicely phrase it ? Ah yes, I could 'shove it up my arse and bloody wank off'. There.
I didn't suppose that meant he was thanking me for such lovely afternoon spent with moi. Such ungratefulness, such manners. However, he wasn't that off track when he said that I'd prefer to be with him than to stay all alone. I didn't like it all that much playing solitary. If I spent too much time alone, these thoughts tended to emerge. Leaving me alone was never a good choice. Not for too long at least.
I smiled sadly at my wrists. Two finely-traced cuts were born on them. My life wasn't all that sparkle. My life wasn't a game. I tried it. I did try to end my days. Once was just when Potter had thrown back my offer in my face, the other one was not too long after Lord Voldemort's miraculous return in my fourth year at Hogwarts.
I was just tired of fighting Father, I was just tired of hearing the upset tone he always had when he talked to me or the distant one. I don't know which was worse, I couldn't say. And Mum became distant too. I didn't understand at first. But now...She knew that I was to become one of the Dark Lord's most loyal Death Eater, she knew how the Aurors would be on our trace, how I could die, how he could die too.
I think she wanted to pretend she didn't care anymore to try to appease the grief she would suffer when the worse would be happening. She had no doubts on which side would win. Not where her heart was. Not where her allegiance was supposed to be. Not where her family stood. Perhaps it was the good thing to do. Perhaps she was right. But it hurt, it bloody hurt.
I hated that bastard. A sodding Half Blood to boot. A conceited loser. Someone I'd be forced to bow down to, someone I'd be forced to kiss his robe's hem, to kiss his hands, to come each time that damn mark would burn, to kill each time he would point. I was never into that serial killer and torturing just for fun shit. Not my thing. It's pretty ironic when you think about it.
Me, Draco Malfoy, did not want to become a Death Eater and a most promising Dark Wizard.
------
Christmas dinner arrived too quickly in my opinion. That damn day just flew by. for once, I'd have been happy to have it slowly passing by. We were all required to assist the evening Yule banquet. Bloody fantastic. A couple of hours spent with a bunch of first years losers, with the teachers, with everyone in a cheerful mood. But most importantly with Harry Bloody Potter.
I didn't know why I didn't want to see him again. Normally I would have seen it as a good opportunity to piss him like there was no tomorrow but there would be teachers and bloody cheerful first years and I wasn't even sure I'd want to talk to him. Nobody does such much as to bellow at a Malfoy and that damn did seem to know the rules.
Not like he would respect them, he'd always be inclined to pass right past them and of course, Dumbledore, being Dumbledore, would bend them for him and even give out bloody House points to him and his little gang. Guess there were bonuses to being everyone's little role model and saviour and hero an champion and everything that came with the job description.
He didn't choose it, riiight. I ought to remember that. He was brought to horrible Muggles and told by them that his parents were good-for-nothing and got killed in a car accident while pissed off their arses. That'd be more incentive though. And I'm joking for once. That surely had been a hit when he learned the truth. Finding out all about wizards and Voldemort.
There I was again, trying to understand who was Harry Potter, trying to be somewhat human towards what he'd been through, trying to be more than civilized about him. I bloody hate him, made me feel all soft and...supportive and compassionate...and caring ? Ugh, definitively ugh. Great, now, I'll be having more nightmares. I better ask Snape for that dreamless draught. Might make my life easier, if only just for a bit. Don't need haunting my dreams also.
Harry-Bloody-Boy-Who-Lived-Twice-and-Thrice-and-Losing-Count-Who'll-Haunt- Me-Potter.
------
I can't remember how I got myself there. I clearly didn't remember getting out of my bed, dressing up, strolling down the dungeons and emerging up in the Great Hall. Perhaps I was sleep-walking after I had sleep-risen and sleep-dressed. Or maybe I had convinced myself that it was better than staring at the ceiling. Or maybe I was afraid of what lurked in the dark corners, waiting for me to close my eyes or let my guards down. I'd be more inclined towards the latter...
Maybe I could pick a fight with Potter or something like that. Not that I was in the mood for spats and insults but hell, anything and everything was good. Perhaps he'd hex me so bad I'd end up in the Hospital Wing for the rest of the Holidays, not to mention in a deep coma, in a grave state of unconsciousness. Maybe he would do it if I paid him ? No. I don't think he'd do it.
Bugger that.
Christmas banquet with Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, Trewlaney, that demi- giant mate and all those others nitwits. Plus those few first years, plus that weird bloke from Ravenclaw and the top nerd of HufflePuff. Oh, but don't we even dare to forget about our national champion, the Boy Who Lived Too Long For His Own Good. Oops, sorry, Harry Potter, my mistake. Hehe.
Thinking back on what I said about me knowing best Potty, I found it bloody amusing if not downright ironic. I know him best besides perhaps that Weasel and the Granger girl. Even more now. They're his friends, it'd be normal. And even then, Crabbe and Goyle don't know me that much if I think about it, Blaise a bit more. They just laugh like goddamm puppets programmed to do anything and everything I want.
Potter told me things that afternoon I was sure he did not ever tell to his beloved friends. Potter trusted me that afternoon perhaps more than he ever trusted them. He could have told me he was gay, could have been bloody coming out, and it would not have surprise me. Though sometimes it had felt as if he had forgotten all about me and was just talking to himself.
It was just as if he needed a opportunity to trigger a lot a babble. And, or course, normally, I don't like being ignored. But it had felt good that he trusted me this much to say those things in front of me, me, Draco Malfoy, his ultimate rival. I had just let him utter about nothing, about everything, about how he sometimes was lost, about how he sometimes didn't know who he was anymore.
He had told me that now and again, he would look at himself in the mirror and would not recognize the boy he would see. The boy would frown as him, lift his arm, shift, smile as him, he would even look exactly like him. But the sadness in the eyes of the boy he saw was some sadness he was not aware he felt, the loneliness born in the green pools that would be staring at him would not be something he thought he had previously felt.
Why should he feel alone ? That alone ? He had friends, goods friends, best mates. He had the Weasel, the Mud Blood, the thick cunt, that annoying git and his brother who always took pictures of him, the Weaselette, the two others Gryffindorks who seemed to be shagging, those Hufflepuffs folks, that Ravenclaw Prefect Chinese girl who I heard had been dating him and his countless fans in his countless fanclubs. He had plenty of friends.
Damn I hate the word 'friend'. I hate the word 'friendship'. I hate what they mean, what they represent, I hate it all. Why, you ask ? It's simple, really, quite logical, in my opinion. I never had any real friends, I never had anyone to talk to when I was sad or happy, when I wanted to talk about my dreams, talk about...just about how I felt, how Father infuriated me, yet again. I wanted friends, real friends. Tough luck. Not such luck for Draco Malfoy.
------
I knew, I saw all of what made Harry Potter him. I didn't tell him though in that curious afternoon. There had been a limit not to trespass after all, rules to be respected. Even if I had disobeyed a lot of them. I could not count them on the fingers of my hand not even if you made that two. I had bonded with the enemy, I ha talked about myself, my past, my feelings, I had shown emotions other that anger, annoyance. I had been a very bad boy.
But I didn't tell him who I thought was Harry Potter. How I had seen the many faces he had had some time or another. I saw him angry, sad, defeated, scared, bored, frustrated, triumphant, heroic, cheerful, arrogant, hopeful, vulnerable, confused, cynical. I saw all of Harry Potter period. One does show things to his life old rival, even if one does not want to. It just comes out. Like something natural.
However, I would be surprised if he told me he knew me like I knew him. After all, Malfoys do possess that skill of hiding their emotions well. It's such as a test, an examination with a permit at the end or a certificate, a diploma, to become a fully-fledged Malfoy though one should not have to pass a test to be acknowledge by their family but that's beside the point again.
I could almost predict which Potter I'd have to deal with ; the noble, heroic Gryffindor, the nasty, scheming Slytherin, the excited, annoying Muggle or the simply dead, numb Potter. I swear, I was almost an expert in the art of being Harry bloody Potter. Bleech, I can't believe I just said that. Most sickening. Draco Malfoy, Pottology expert. Ugh.
------
"Ah, Mr Malfoy ! How good of you to come join us ! Merry Christmas to you !"a cheerful voice greeted me as I stepped in the Great Hall.
"Erm...Merry Christmas to you too, Headmaster, "I replied civilly, settling myself on a very faraway chair.
"Here, have you one these, "he said jovially as I brushed past him.
I stopped a bit, getting annoyed. I looked up and he was offering me a weird, long, shiny thing. I glanced at Snape and he silently urged me to take and be done with it. At least, I wasn't the only one not wanting to be here. Dear Snape, never was the social, mingling type. I don't even know why he became a teacher in the first place.
"Thanks, sir, "I said shortly as I continued to the end of the table.
All that red, all that green, all those lights, all those ribbons, all those decorations ; it made me sick. Made me want to retch. Even if there was green. There was red too. Gryffindor red. Ugh. I truly hated Christmas and even more Christmas at Hogwarts. It was too warm, inviting, cheerful, friendly. It was too much for me. Even if I hated being alone. Some issue I had back then...Sometimes, I still do.
But right now, I craved for the dark, cold, lonely dungeons. Most surprising seeing as I knew well what would be waiting for me down there. I was going to be sick very soon with this overly joyous room and these overly joyous persons. Well, I noted with satisfaction, I wasn't the only one unhappy with this. Snape was as grim as ever. His usual self perhaps. His lips were so thin I thought he had Vanished them. I thought his face would break up if he didn't loosen up a bit.
Ah, some emotions showing. What seemed to be the matter, Snape ? I followed his gaze only to stop on the one person I didn't want to see today. One more thing to add on my list 'Reasons that this Christmas sucked senseless'. Great, can't write it down. But It wasn't like I was going to forget anytime soon. Snape wasn't as half glad as I was to see Golden Boy entering the room and as a fourth as I when he sat down right next to me. Wanker.
I almost prayed he wouldn't talk to me. Almost, I said. After all, Malfoys don't pray, Malfoys are proud. But I didn't want him to start blabbing about how I'm a heartless bastard, a cold, selfish, fucker. Or pretend he didn't make me a scene yesterday and start blabbing about his little friends or whatever. Pretend that his little truce was still going on. Pretend, just bloody pretend.
I wasn't in the mood to bear the Malfoy smirk, I wasn't in the mood to rant about the Malfoy pride, I wasn't in the mood to defend the Malfoy honour. I wasn't in the mood to be insulted like there was no tomorrow. Hell, I wasn't sure I'd even try to. Perhaps I'd even agree with him. Damn. I just wanted to eat in peace and to get the hell out. Don't talk to me, Potter, don't open your damn righteous mouth.
"Malfoy, "he acknowledged me with a nod. Fucker.
"Potter, "I replied with a snort, sinking down in my seat.
Tough luck to me. Come on, Potter. Can't you see I just wanted to be left in peace, alone ? No, I guess you didn't see that. After all, you don't possess the Malfoy reading ability like I do. Well, you're not a Malfoy for one. And you've got one hell of a thick head. Too bad. But even you can't be that daft, can you ?
You could at least send me to the Hospital Wing in that coma I dreamed about, couldn't you ? I'm even willing to pay good money. Just bloody put me out of this torture until the start of classes in the new year. Oh great. I had forgotten about the New Year Diner. But I had to remember that now, hadn't I ? Ironic shit.
Oh, stop staring at me like that, Potter. I tried to use the icy stare at you. He shoots, he scores ! Maybe you did see it. You didn't open your mouth again. Thank Merlin. I was beginning to think you truly were that thickhead. Why should I care, huh ? Well, it wouldn't flatter me if you were that dim seeing as you're my long-time rival and all. Yeah, it's all about me and my name. All about me, Draco Malfoy.
Christmas arrived slowly, too slowly in my opinion. Each day seemed to be twice as long as they should be. The best day I had, I'm sorry to say, was that day with Potter. Bloody ironic. The following days were nothing to ride home about, not that I'd get to ride home about something, thank you so much, Father. Be sure I'll remember this one well and long.
I had not seen our Golden Boy since that outburst he took out on me. And somehow, somewhere, I felt that there was something missing in me. Some thirst not quenched, some hunger not satisfied. I truly had felt at ease with Potter. I had felt something new. Well, maybe not that new, there was Blaise after all, but perhaps more...fulfilled ?
I had realized that we were not that different from each other. Of course, he had a crappy childhood with dim Muggles for family, of course, he never any friends before Hagrid and the Weasel in his eleventh year of age, of course, he had lost his godfather, a mere two years after reuniting, of course, everyone expected him to defeat Lord Voldemort, of course, everyone had high hopes for the Saviour of the Wizarding World.
And then, there was me. Draco Malfoy, ultimate arch nemesis of the Boy Who Lived, son of an inner-circle Death Eater and promising one himself to boot. Though I won't go as far as to say I had as worse of childhood as him, it wasn't all gold and shimmers, I never had a single friend except that annoying Pansy girl who always wanted to play dress-up and dollies, future couple bonding they had called it before they had realized that it wouldn't work.
Because Lucius Malfoy quickly took in that miss Parkinson would not make his son happy, when he was proud of his successor that is, and that would not do. And he also saw that the poor girl, even at only seven to ten years old, was horribly unattractive and that it would ruin or damage the Malfoy image or reputation, so the calling-off wasn't all that selfless. There had been personal motives.
Of course, I had my dear mother, to which he could refer to either the Weasel Clan or that Black mate, though, it wasn't as much as I had, I'll give you that. Yet I had high expectations for my own future also. I was obviously expected to take after dear father in the Dark Lord's very inner circle. Sometimes, I even wondered if there wasn't some twisted relationship between those two. I had nightmares for a week's worth after that but that's besides the point.
The fact was, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were not all that glittered and not all that different. All that talking we did really opened my eyes. But I wasn't not sure it will change many things. I was positive things will stay just the way they were. I was not about to fall in his arms and confess my undying love or admiration or repentance or anything. I wasn't even sure I'd talk to him again.
And that truce. Ah yes, that truce, that peace offering, that temporary treaty. I had no idea what went through his brain to propose such thing and even less on what went on with me to accept. We bloody even shook on it. Ugh. But I guess, it was over. Fires were open again because, how did he so nicely phrase it ? Ah yes, I could 'shove it up my arse and bloody wank off'. There.
I didn't suppose that meant he was thanking me for such lovely afternoon spent with moi. Such ungratefulness, such manners. However, he wasn't that off track when he said that I'd prefer to be with him than to stay all alone. I didn't like it all that much playing solitary. If I spent too much time alone, these thoughts tended to emerge. Leaving me alone was never a good choice. Not for too long at least.
I smiled sadly at my wrists. Two finely-traced cuts were born on them. My life wasn't all that sparkle. My life wasn't a game. I tried it. I did try to end my days. Once was just when Potter had thrown back my offer in my face, the other one was not too long after Lord Voldemort's miraculous return in my fourth year at Hogwarts.
I was just tired of fighting Father, I was just tired of hearing the upset tone he always had when he talked to me or the distant one. I don't know which was worse, I couldn't say. And Mum became distant too. I didn't understand at first. But now...She knew that I was to become one of the Dark Lord's most loyal Death Eater, she knew how the Aurors would be on our trace, how I could die, how he could die too.
I think she wanted to pretend she didn't care anymore to try to appease the grief she would suffer when the worse would be happening. She had no doubts on which side would win. Not where her heart was. Not where her allegiance was supposed to be. Not where her family stood. Perhaps it was the good thing to do. Perhaps she was right. But it hurt, it bloody hurt.
I hated that bastard. A sodding Half Blood to boot. A conceited loser. Someone I'd be forced to bow down to, someone I'd be forced to kiss his robe's hem, to kiss his hands, to come each time that damn mark would burn, to kill each time he would point. I was never into that serial killer and torturing just for fun shit. Not my thing. It's pretty ironic when you think about it.
Me, Draco Malfoy, did not want to become a Death Eater and a most promising Dark Wizard.
------
Christmas dinner arrived too quickly in my opinion. That damn day just flew by. for once, I'd have been happy to have it slowly passing by. We were all required to assist the evening Yule banquet. Bloody fantastic. A couple of hours spent with a bunch of first years losers, with the teachers, with everyone in a cheerful mood. But most importantly with Harry Bloody Potter.
I didn't know why I didn't want to see him again. Normally I would have seen it as a good opportunity to piss him like there was no tomorrow but there would be teachers and bloody cheerful first years and I wasn't even sure I'd want to talk to him. Nobody does such much as to bellow at a Malfoy and that damn did seem to know the rules.
Not like he would respect them, he'd always be inclined to pass right past them and of course, Dumbledore, being Dumbledore, would bend them for him and even give out bloody House points to him and his little gang. Guess there were bonuses to being everyone's little role model and saviour and hero an champion and everything that came with the job description.
He didn't choose it, riiight. I ought to remember that. He was brought to horrible Muggles and told by them that his parents were good-for-nothing and got killed in a car accident while pissed off their arses. That'd be more incentive though. And I'm joking for once. That surely had been a hit when he learned the truth. Finding out all about wizards and Voldemort.
There I was again, trying to understand who was Harry Potter, trying to be somewhat human towards what he'd been through, trying to be more than civilized about him. I bloody hate him, made me feel all soft and...supportive and compassionate...and caring ? Ugh, definitively ugh. Great, now, I'll be having more nightmares. I better ask Snape for that dreamless draught. Might make my life easier, if only just for a bit. Don't need haunting my dreams also.
Harry-Bloody-Boy-Who-Lived-Twice-and-Thrice-and-Losing-Count-Who'll-Haunt- Me-Potter.
------
I can't remember how I got myself there. I clearly didn't remember getting out of my bed, dressing up, strolling down the dungeons and emerging up in the Great Hall. Perhaps I was sleep-walking after I had sleep-risen and sleep-dressed. Or maybe I had convinced myself that it was better than staring at the ceiling. Or maybe I was afraid of what lurked in the dark corners, waiting for me to close my eyes or let my guards down. I'd be more inclined towards the latter...
Maybe I could pick a fight with Potter or something like that. Not that I was in the mood for spats and insults but hell, anything and everything was good. Perhaps he'd hex me so bad I'd end up in the Hospital Wing for the rest of the Holidays, not to mention in a deep coma, in a grave state of unconsciousness. Maybe he would do it if I paid him ? No. I don't think he'd do it.
Bugger that.
Christmas banquet with Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, Trewlaney, that demi- giant mate and all those others nitwits. Plus those few first years, plus that weird bloke from Ravenclaw and the top nerd of HufflePuff. Oh, but don't we even dare to forget about our national champion, the Boy Who Lived Too Long For His Own Good. Oops, sorry, Harry Potter, my mistake. Hehe.
Thinking back on what I said about me knowing best Potty, I found it bloody amusing if not downright ironic. I know him best besides perhaps that Weasel and the Granger girl. Even more now. They're his friends, it'd be normal. And even then, Crabbe and Goyle don't know me that much if I think about it, Blaise a bit more. They just laugh like goddamm puppets programmed to do anything and everything I want.
Potter told me things that afternoon I was sure he did not ever tell to his beloved friends. Potter trusted me that afternoon perhaps more than he ever trusted them. He could have told me he was gay, could have been bloody coming out, and it would not have surprise me. Though sometimes it had felt as if he had forgotten all about me and was just talking to himself.
It was just as if he needed a opportunity to trigger a lot a babble. And, or course, normally, I don't like being ignored. But it had felt good that he trusted me this much to say those things in front of me, me, Draco Malfoy, his ultimate rival. I had just let him utter about nothing, about everything, about how he sometimes was lost, about how he sometimes didn't know who he was anymore.
He had told me that now and again, he would look at himself in the mirror and would not recognize the boy he would see. The boy would frown as him, lift his arm, shift, smile as him, he would even look exactly like him. But the sadness in the eyes of the boy he saw was some sadness he was not aware he felt, the loneliness born in the green pools that would be staring at him would not be something he thought he had previously felt.
Why should he feel alone ? That alone ? He had friends, goods friends, best mates. He had the Weasel, the Mud Blood, the thick cunt, that annoying git and his brother who always took pictures of him, the Weaselette, the two others Gryffindorks who seemed to be shagging, those Hufflepuffs folks, that Ravenclaw Prefect Chinese girl who I heard had been dating him and his countless fans in his countless fanclubs. He had plenty of friends.
Damn I hate the word 'friend'. I hate the word 'friendship'. I hate what they mean, what they represent, I hate it all. Why, you ask ? It's simple, really, quite logical, in my opinion. I never had any real friends, I never had anyone to talk to when I was sad or happy, when I wanted to talk about my dreams, talk about...just about how I felt, how Father infuriated me, yet again. I wanted friends, real friends. Tough luck. Not such luck for Draco Malfoy.
------
I knew, I saw all of what made Harry Potter him. I didn't tell him though in that curious afternoon. There had been a limit not to trespass after all, rules to be respected. Even if I had disobeyed a lot of them. I could not count them on the fingers of my hand not even if you made that two. I had bonded with the enemy, I ha talked about myself, my past, my feelings, I had shown emotions other that anger, annoyance. I had been a very bad boy.
But I didn't tell him who I thought was Harry Potter. How I had seen the many faces he had had some time or another. I saw him angry, sad, defeated, scared, bored, frustrated, triumphant, heroic, cheerful, arrogant, hopeful, vulnerable, confused, cynical. I saw all of Harry Potter period. One does show things to his life old rival, even if one does not want to. It just comes out. Like something natural.
However, I would be surprised if he told me he knew me like I knew him. After all, Malfoys do possess that skill of hiding their emotions well. It's such as a test, an examination with a permit at the end or a certificate, a diploma, to become a fully-fledged Malfoy though one should not have to pass a test to be acknowledge by their family but that's beside the point again.
I could almost predict which Potter I'd have to deal with ; the noble, heroic Gryffindor, the nasty, scheming Slytherin, the excited, annoying Muggle or the simply dead, numb Potter. I swear, I was almost an expert in the art of being Harry bloody Potter. Bleech, I can't believe I just said that. Most sickening. Draco Malfoy, Pottology expert. Ugh.
------
"Ah, Mr Malfoy ! How good of you to come join us ! Merry Christmas to you !"a cheerful voice greeted me as I stepped in the Great Hall.
"Erm...Merry Christmas to you too, Headmaster, "I replied civilly, settling myself on a very faraway chair.
"Here, have you one these, "he said jovially as I brushed past him.
I stopped a bit, getting annoyed. I looked up and he was offering me a weird, long, shiny thing. I glanced at Snape and he silently urged me to take and be done with it. At least, I wasn't the only one not wanting to be here. Dear Snape, never was the social, mingling type. I don't even know why he became a teacher in the first place.
"Thanks, sir, "I said shortly as I continued to the end of the table.
All that red, all that green, all those lights, all those ribbons, all those decorations ; it made me sick. Made me want to retch. Even if there was green. There was red too. Gryffindor red. Ugh. I truly hated Christmas and even more Christmas at Hogwarts. It was too warm, inviting, cheerful, friendly. It was too much for me. Even if I hated being alone. Some issue I had back then...Sometimes, I still do.
But right now, I craved for the dark, cold, lonely dungeons. Most surprising seeing as I knew well what would be waiting for me down there. I was going to be sick very soon with this overly joyous room and these overly joyous persons. Well, I noted with satisfaction, I wasn't the only one unhappy with this. Snape was as grim as ever. His usual self perhaps. His lips were so thin I thought he had Vanished them. I thought his face would break up if he didn't loosen up a bit.
Ah, some emotions showing. What seemed to be the matter, Snape ? I followed his gaze only to stop on the one person I didn't want to see today. One more thing to add on my list 'Reasons that this Christmas sucked senseless'. Great, can't write it down. But It wasn't like I was going to forget anytime soon. Snape wasn't as half glad as I was to see Golden Boy entering the room and as a fourth as I when he sat down right next to me. Wanker.
I almost prayed he wouldn't talk to me. Almost, I said. After all, Malfoys don't pray, Malfoys are proud. But I didn't want him to start blabbing about how I'm a heartless bastard, a cold, selfish, fucker. Or pretend he didn't make me a scene yesterday and start blabbing about his little friends or whatever. Pretend that his little truce was still going on. Pretend, just bloody pretend.
I wasn't in the mood to bear the Malfoy smirk, I wasn't in the mood to rant about the Malfoy pride, I wasn't in the mood to defend the Malfoy honour. I wasn't in the mood to be insulted like there was no tomorrow. Hell, I wasn't sure I'd even try to. Perhaps I'd even agree with him. Damn. I just wanted to eat in peace and to get the hell out. Don't talk to me, Potter, don't open your damn righteous mouth.
"Malfoy, "he acknowledged me with a nod. Fucker.
"Potter, "I replied with a snort, sinking down in my seat.
Tough luck to me. Come on, Potter. Can't you see I just wanted to be left in peace, alone ? No, I guess you didn't see that. After all, you don't possess the Malfoy reading ability like I do. Well, you're not a Malfoy for one. And you've got one hell of a thick head. Too bad. But even you can't be that daft, can you ?
You could at least send me to the Hospital Wing in that coma I dreamed about, couldn't you ? I'm even willing to pay good money. Just bloody put me out of this torture until the start of classes in the new year. Oh great. I had forgotten about the New Year Diner. But I had to remember that now, hadn't I ? Ironic shit.
Oh, stop staring at me like that, Potter. I tried to use the icy stare at you. He shoots, he scores ! Maybe you did see it. You didn't open your mouth again. Thank Merlin. I was beginning to think you truly were that thickhead. Why should I care, huh ? Well, it wouldn't flatter me if you were that dim seeing as you're my long-time rival and all. Yeah, it's all about me and my name. All about me, Draco Malfoy.