Draco Malfoy kicked a stone, as he walked through the chilly dungeons. Well, he had figured out what Hermione and the two Fools were up to.
House Elves.
Of all the cockamamie, twisted, brilliantly brave and utterly stupid ideas! House elves. If Draco Malfoy was talking to those brave fools, he might have had a word or two to say. Not that they'd listen to him, even if he brought truth incarnate and let it's golden rays shine over their heads. No, this wasn't about truth, to them. It was about Right - well, at least to Hermione.
Draco Malfoy was persuaded that her friends had simply decided it was easier to go along with her than try to stop her. Which, considering their intelligence and rhetorical aptitude, was probably the best move. Draco didn't have to like it though.
Typical brash and arrogant Gryffindor. Find Problem, Fix Problem. With Hammer if possible, Sledgehammer if not. Thick-headed idiots.
Skulking in the halls and the library after class had taught Draco one thing - they didn't even have any idea about House elves, so of course they were going to look like idiots. They were looking at Dobby as if he was normal, for Merlin's sake! Dobby was a freak, a sport, the weirdest house elf any house elf living had ever seen.
Or so Draco Malfoy assumed. Certainly the Hogwarts elves considered him a few knocks short of a noggin. Draco didn't want to admit it, but that was probably his father's fault.
On that point, if on no other, they were dead right. House elves did not exist to be used as punching bags. They were loyal, worthy servants, and should be treated as such. Even his father should understand that.
Frowning, Draco nicked a piece of paper from Goyle. He had half an idea to write... At the end of his hastily penned missive, Draco's smile looked downright predatory. Let a Slytherin show you how it's done, he exulted.
The Moon's a Harsh Mistress, well I know
Sometimes I want to fly, and thither go.
Oft she turns her back to me,
I yearn to look and make her see.
So far away, I dare not touch
I swear I love her overmuch.
I should turn cold, yes, turn away
Save judgement for another day.
When the sun's last ray fades
I dwell amongst inconstant shades.
The moon turns full and new again
I stand within the faerie glen.
Turn the sky to stone,
And my wings to bone,
I'll fly soft as a bat,
As insignificant as a gnat.
I suppose I'm rather good at that.
Draco now had two letters to put in the Owlery. Delivered at distinctly different times, and by different people. Zambini would help, Draco thought with a smirk. There's still a few things I know about him that he doesn't want his lady-friend of the moment to know (particularly since Vane's a bit of a gossip).
[a/n: Yes, you do want to listen to The moon is a harsh mistress. Also, you do want to write me a review. It's Tuesday, storytime! Fourthweek.]