Title: The Serpent's Children
Rating: PG-13 cos of a lot of hard language
Disclaimer: I, VenusDeOmnipotent, do not claim ownership of any recognizable elements in this story, nor do I use these elements with permission or for profit. Good. Now read my fic.
Dedications: Okay, this one's dedicated to MioneMalfoy who loves Tom Felton more than I do. She's obsessed.
a/n: right. This idea was really hot, I hope it works. It's a strange concept, to say the least, but shucks, what can I say. The timelines get kinda screwed up, so just place each passage in wherever you think is right…
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Chapter One – An exceptionally bad day.
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Pansy Parkinson was having a bad day.
Not any ordinary bad day, which was normally at least bearable in its own right. No, it was the sort of bad day which left you cursing every available object in your way. How dare they exist in such a manner? To the minute, she had placed the Curse of the Bogies on a number of sometimes innocent suits of armor, two apples and an armchair. She had also flung an unsuspecting beaker of liquefied nightshade to the ground because it had caused a small slit in her finger and, in an act of true Slytherin ruthlessness, transfigured a masculine looking gold chalice into a crystal, flowery shot glass. Hah.
It had begun in the morning, as most bad days do. Then, as the hours passed painfully on, it got worse, and worse, and worse.
Professor Snape had restricted her to Slytherin Tower until dinner that day, insufferable bloody git. When rationally thought about, this was probably because of the fact that one whole beaker of bubbling liquid belladonna impacting with sufficient velocity on a granite floor was a recipe for disaster. It had turned out well. Thirty pairs of singed eyebrows and a nearly demolished Potions classroom said so.
Thus, she was on her way to her dormitory, her temporary prison, in the worst of moods. Passers by got out of her way and those who didn't found themselves on the floor with the corridor walls at their backs. She was pretty powerful, as underage witches go. Naturally, this was because she had extra training at home, given her by her parents. She wasn't the only one who received special 'lessons'. Several shouts of "Hey, isn't that illegal?!" followed by hushed whispers along the lines of "Leave it, Parkinson's got her knickers in a twist again" could be heard all along the corridors.
She turned left into the corridor that led to Slytherin tower. She didn't see somebody else heading the same way.
Not too far away, Blaise Zabini was pushed off balance.
"Hey!" she cried.
"Forget it, Blaise, Malfoy's shoved Snape's asphodel tube up his own arse again," murmured her friend, Arienne Flint, from the wall.
Blaise rubbed her shoulders. "Sodding hell, this is the second time today! I'm going to have bruises all over my damn back if this keeps up."
"Yeah?" said Arienne, picking up a Transfiguration book. "I assume you've had a run in with Pansy as well, then. I've been hearing stories all morning."
"Two of them, then. Are they both headed for the Tower?"
The two Slytherin's looked at each other with similar expressions. Wordlessly, they gathered up their possessions and took off in the direction of 'away from the oncoming tempest'.
The collision had been spectacular. It was like a Mount Vesuvius had erupted a second time. In the space of five seconds, there were roughly twenty school books lying on the ground, covered in a rather large amount of chimera acid, and all hell broken loose.
"Watch where you're going!"
Pansy got up and whirled around, finger poised, ready to curse whichever poor, innocent soul had had the idiocy to crash into her. Then, she took notice of that infuriating blonde hair. Her eyes widened and she turned slightly red.
"You!"
"Parkinson?"
Draco Casper Malfoy II brushed himself off angrily. He had been having the worst day in his packed life ever and was in no mood to be running around with acid, and now the only person that ever got on his nerves more than Potty Potter was here to make his life more of a living hell.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Malfoy, can't you even concentrate on walking a meter without screwing up somebody else's time?"
"As I understand it, you have all the time in the world today, why don't you spend it looking ahead of you instead of daydreaming about that prick Boot?"
Pansy reddened.
"At least I don't spend half a damned hour in the mornings trying, and failing I might add, to perfect my hair," she said quietly, dangerously quietly.
Draco narrowed his eyes. "As I can clearly tell by being forced to glance at that awful vipers nest on your, for lack of a better word, head! Your home cat's fur looks better than yours, at least it would if she weren't always cavorting with that tom in the kitchens, although you can hardly tell the difference in your so called house," he spat, quivering. Said hair was now coming unruly, falling over his eyes and sticking up in strange places.
The extremely few students who had enough guts to stick around to watch the argument dropped their jaws collectively and made a hurried effort to get the hell out of there. Insulting Pansy Parkinson's family Persian, and even worse; the house, was not the smartest thing to try if you wanted to live.
"You," she uttered, searching for suitable words, "you BASTARD!" she shrieked. "I don't know who the hell you think you are but you stay the hell away from me, or so help me Salazar I will hit you with a hex so strong, you won't even remember my name!"
"Indeed?" Draco was nearly yelling now. "I should be so lucky, you miserable wench!"
"Hah. Your father would murder you, and so would Narcissa if she could even lift her finger for the effort."
The two were now standing there with their fists clenched by their sides, glaring at each other with their faces inches apart.
"Stay the hell away from my mother, hag. I wouldn't be the only one under my father's wrath, and you know it."
Pansy's eyes darkened.
"You know what?" she said, almost sweetly. Draco hesitated, suspiciously. Pansy broke the stare and snapped her fingers. Her books jumped into her arms.
"I have a better figure than you?" asked Draco.
She turned to him smiling with her head cocked, and then her expression turned stony.
"Go FUCK yourself."
She whirled on her heels and stalked off, leaving Draco boiling with rage.
"Better than fucking you, at any rate!" he managed to call after her.
Pretending not to have heard him and not looking back, Pansy shouted, "And tell Lucius that he can go fuck himself, too!"
Draco blinked. He couldn't think clearly. That bitch! Ooh, she made him so mad…
He forced himself to breathe. He couldn't.
*Flashback*
Draco tugged at his father's sleeve.
"Father," he said. "What's she doing here?"
Lucius Malfoy frowned at his son. They were seated in The Castle, one of Diagon Alley's more reputable dining places, and the Parkinson family had just come in.
"Boy," he replied coldly, "what have I told you? You need to learn to treat certain people with a certain amount of respect and civility. Now stand up, don't be rude."
Draco rose with his father. They greeted the Parkinsons formally and everybody sat down. Pansy was looking at him with well masked antagonism. Then he noticed that she had just acquired a new wand, one that looked just like his, one that fit with the regulations of a certain school. Draco's eyes widened in horror and realization.
They opened up their menus.
Pansy frowned. "Mummy," she whispered behind her menu. "Why are we eating with him?"
"Hmm?" said Penelope lightly. "Oh, now Pansy, you mustn't think so badly of people. Draco is a charming young gentleman."
"He's disgusting! He's spoilt and lazy, and-," she lowered her voice even further, "he's always fussing about his hair!"
"Father," Draco hissed. "She's girly and poor and no fun at all. I don't want to go to school with her!"
"Can't I go to Durmstrang instead? Suzie's going there, she's very happy."
"That's enough, Draco."
"That's enough, Pansy."
The two nearly-eleven year olds sulked and listened as their parents tried to lecture them without embarrassing themselves behind their menus.
"You will learn the proper respect for Pansy, Draco."
"After all, he is your betrothed."
Draco frowned. "What's betrothed?"
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well? Okay. This sort of came to me and if anyone cares, I KNOW that I shouldn't be starting another story when I haven't completed a single one yet except for the cho/cedric one which you should check out it's really sweet but that's not the point.
This just came to me, alright?
Really!!!!!
And I know I should be working on all of my other stuff, but check it out anyway, okays?
Review…review…review!