Flammable Objects
Draco
I roll my eyes at the headline of the newly printed newspaper.
The Mysteries of The Boy Who Lived Twice.
It's big and in bold, but they really need to employ more writers because the title is clearly lacking. I shove it onto the top of the dark wooden table, honestly even I could write something better than that, it doesn't even sound enticing, I tell myself peeking back over at it.
Well clearly it does if your looking back at it.
I sigh and pick up my herbal tea that Mother made me instead. I sip a bit, apparently too early as it burns my tongue, though I swallow the peppermint flavoured tea all the same. Then as I go to set it down beside the Daily Prophet my eyes flick back towards to paper.
You look like a lunatic staring at it just pick it up already,
And unfortunately my fingers somehow manage to grab the piece of paper and set it onto the side of the green, velvety armchair I am currently occupying, it's crazy really. That's what I tell myself as I start reading the scribbles on the first page. I can smell the freshly printed paper and I feel it's crisp texture, crumpled sightly by the owls delivering it. That's when I see some of the subtitles.
Hopes and Plans For Future
School Life
Dating Currently
Friends and Family
I chuckle at the last subtitle. Someone's getting sacked today, everyone knows Potter is an orphan, though nobody knows about his family who took him in all those years. I truly speculate what it was like for wonder boy there, was he praised for being a prophecy for greatness or was he shamed for bring an unfortunate fate to his parents? Imagine, the person who can't go ten metres without a cult of people begging to kiss his feet getting disgraced for something he couldn't control. Sadly, Potter is too dense to have not been praised his whole life. Don't get me wrong, I come from a prestigious family, I know what it's like to be coddled. I also know what it's like for that to be pulled from you, or in other words to expect to be spoiled by others too. I learned that the hard way in first-year, my cheeks flame with embarrassment and I cover my face with the newspaper, though nobody is in the bare room. Honestly, that was the most humbling moment of my life so far, I think back to it. My little first-ear self deciding to climb through the social circle and talk to Potter, just as Father instructed me to though at the time I didn't know why, and him so arrogantly rejecting my wise offer. I could literally see the smug look the weasel gave me, I am very surprised I managed to hold in my anger at the time. The rant I wrote in my journal took up five pages and give me a hand cramp, Crabbe and Goyle tried to have a peek at it one day but thankfully they can't read French. My memories with Crabbe and Goyle have always been very....preformed, all of our parents know each other and just like our parents, the never ending hierarchy continued with us. It wasn't that we weren't close it's just that it was to keep up appearances, stay in power and to show who would be in charge of who, the list continues. Complete waste of my time sometimes, it's all fake relationships whether it's romantic or platonic, one day I'm going to marry from one of the more powerful families and have to bear at least one heir to the Malfoy line. My disgust plagues my face. Putting that behind me I continue down the seeming infinite articles on scarface, reading down the first one titled,
Hopes and Plans For Future
My eyes skim through it promptly, stopping when I find something that's actually not been reported for the hundredth time. Since when was he asked to be an Auror? You would think after nearly blowing up the potions classroom about eight times a year, bar sixth year don't know how he overtook me and Granger, he would be at least be placed on a potions hazard list. Although, I guess saving the Wizarding World counts as something worthy of a tiny reward. I don't get how he saved the whole Wizarding World, he basically just saved Britain's Wizarding World, not even the full continent. I flick through the other pages bitterly, finding nothing of good leverage on the fist two subtitles and turn to the next one.
Dating Currently
I feel bad for all Potter's crazy fangirls that'll be so heartbroken after this, I roll my eyes. I blink at the next paragraph, c'est quoi ce bordel? What the fuck? This time I'm hunching over laughing, oh my god, I read it again.
Although Mr. Potter claims to be taken, he has no comment on the allegations of having romantic endeavours with his long time 'friend' Ms. Granger. Sources have reported sightings of the two in a secluded part of the Leaky Cauldron with Ms. Granger's hand atop Mr. Potter's. This leads the question further, is Mr. Potter basking in the saviour glory too much with these romantic caresses? Is he proving that all celebrities aren't who they seem? Further updates to be released.
I'm sure they'll all have a blast with that one, Granger, Weaselbee, and the Deatheaters' nightmare. I'm pretty sure the ginger biscuit is dating Granger anyways, and everyone knows Potter is dating Weaselette, at this point he's said it so mant times that the whole continent probably knows. Still, it's something for everyone to gossip about, Pansy included. No drama gets past her, I genuinely think she has some form of blackmail over everyone, even me. One time I found her trying to snoop into the Ravenclaw dormitories to seem in her words, "cool and mysterious" whenever the person came into their dorm and seen her there, she told me it was a perfect way to remind him not to slip up. Apparently she went into the wrong one and got a detention, yet every time someone asked she denied it.
"C'était quoi ce bruit, chérie?" What was that noise dear? I jump, frightened by her voice and turn towards Mother, smiling faintly in the doorway, I give her a quick grin in return as she walks towards me.
"Rien mère," Nothing Mother, "je lisais juste le journal" I was just reading the paper. I sink into the chair as she glides over to the right side of the seat. She must have heard me laughing earlier.
"Cela devait être un article intéressant," It must have been an interesting article. She gives me deliberate look, as if sensing I'm lying.
"Appelle-moi si tu as besoin de moi," Okay, call for me if you need me, she tells me sweetly as she gives me a peck on the cheek, she has more worry in her face than her voice as she glides to the door, "Améliore aussi ton français, ta prononciation est épouvantable," Also improve your French, your pronunciation is terrible, she adds casually and shuts the door gently.
I stare at the flaking ceiling and pull a hand over my face, bringing my gaze to the tea and I finish it swiftly, before it gets cold. I look back to the newspaper.
Why am I even reading these lies?
The question remains as I push up from my chair bringing the very flammable object with me and toss it into the burning embers of fire. There eat that chosen git.
Then I grab my slightly over-sized suitcase from the floor and carry it down the hall to my bedroom, placing it on the king sized bed and I go to fill it. Checking the list I had made earlier in the day before I had gotten the Daily Prophet and my half drunk tea, that's probably freezing by now, curse you Potter. He has done nothing but be a burden to my existence, same as all of the Griffindorks, nothing but a pain with the mudblood Granger taking my first place in every subject, Potter with his saviour complex and the Weasel for being with them everywhere like a leech. I leave the room to go down the hall, down a flight of stairs and to the second door on my right where the Malfoy Library is located and in the back corner of the library is my favourite section.
Soon I am returning to my room with a few of my favourite novels and two that I haven't read yet, with most of them being either Charles Dickens or Fyodor Dostoevsky. Finally after a laughable attempt to try squeeze everything into my suitcase, I close it and place it over beside my door before I get my nightwear and head into my ensuite to shower.
Later I've had my supper brought to my bedroom and I'm eating a piece before it dawns on me. I have to go back to Hogwarts tomorrow. I could've been gone a year or two ago if Father let me, a frown begins to form across my features,
Why did you have to get me caught in this?
Sadly, I don't think he will ever get to listen to me say those words to him. Though I could have been in a cell right beside him in Azkaban, no I should be rotting in cell, but stupid Potter had to get in the way of my fate and I'll have to face him and the rest of the Wizarding World soon enough.
I look to my desk, still no letters back from Blaise or Pansy, if I see them at Hogwarts I'm going to throttle them both. I huff, hopefully they'll come too. I don't want to be stuck in a dormitory with some stranger who doesn't understand our jokes or demise on everyone.
I still, that's where worrying will get me no where so I leave my plate on my bedside table and I turn off the lamp sitting on it, letting the darkness crowd the room before I close my eyes.