Okay, this whole huge thing came from the lines at the beginning of the second verse. I saw in my head Draco calling her a filthy little mudblood and knew that was what she should say. And all of this resulted. 5 stanzas about the guy. I managed to put a lot of hate in here. I mean, I don't hate Draco. AT ALL. But I'm starting to freak myself out a little with my change of personality when I write these. Also, I realize that besides each having seven lines (strange number to pick, eh?) these have no structure whatsoever. My poetry sometimes comes out more as disjointed thinking, and it's my own fault, but I couldn't make it rhyme or follow a pattern without taking all the hate out. So here's for Draco. Poor lad.
For Draco
I can't count on one hand
Or two, or three, or ten
The times you have spat that word at me
Mudblood
But the cold hard truth of it is,
If you'd really pay attention,
That you are the one with dirt in your veins
If my blood were half as dirty as yours
I'd throw myself off the end of the world
And you would laugh to yourself, thinking,
"I knew I would break her someday"
But you will never break me
You are nothing but a pale little boy
Who has been misnamed
Your mother didn't know
That her only son would be
A twitchy little ferret
Who thought he was a dragon
Wished to be a big shot
Played at being a god
And only managed to be a pest
So run home to your father
The one who boasts of the pureness in his veins
And ask him how many he has killed
How many he has tortured
How much blood he has spilled
He is a ferret just like you
Marking his arm to feel safe
And the next time you open your mouth
To call me by that name
Remember that you come from scum
And the apple never falls far from the tree
Do me a favor and slit your wrist
Watch the filth that runs through you
Yours is the muddy blood