And because insomnia reigns....
Fan fiction is evil. These are the results of reading late into the wee small hours of the morning. Go Cassie. Woo-hoo. (As exuberantly as is possible at this point.) *pumps fist in air* (Uhhh, struggles to raise arm, actually.)
*********************************************
Draco didn't quite know how to respond. However he might feel about his father, family pride precluded him from insulting him in the presence of strangers, or near-strangers. He recalled having once told Harry that he hated Lucius, but that had been different because he'd been quite sure he was about to die at the time, and anyway, that had been Harry. Snape calling his father a liar was something else again. According to the Malfoy Family Code of Conduct (length: three hundred pages, containing 1,376 rules ranging from: "The Malfoy family dress robe colors are black, green and silver, except on state occasions when it is permissible to wear red, silver and black" to "Malfoys are expressly forbidden from practicing inappropriate Lust Charms on members of the animal kingdom, especially in the topiary garden; this means you, Uncle Hector") he should, to save the honor of his family, leap to his feet and hit Snape in the eye. But he didn't much feel like it, so he contented himself with glaring furiously at his half-empty teacup and muttering,
"Milk."
"What was that?"
"Milk," said Draco again. "For my tea. I need some."
"Get it yourself," said Snape shortly.
*********************************************
Draco wished he could sleep, but the Wakefulness potion didn't allow it. He had been grateful at first for the alert and burning energy it gave him, but now he felt weary of it. Not that he wanted to sleep and dream - he certainly didn't want that. But he was bored. Snape had gone into his workroom to play with his potions, and Draco had been kicking aimlessly around the house. He'd discovered very little, except that Snape had peculiar musical taste and that, if what was folded on top of the washing machine was any indication to go by, he slept in blue flannel pajamas decorated with little red hearts. Yikes, Draco thought.
*********************************************
Ginny realized that she was struggling not to laugh. This is so unfair, she thought irritably. A year ago, if someone had asked her for three words that described Draco Malfoy, she would have chosen "complete" "utter" and "bastard." Now words like "engaging" and "funny" and even "charming" kept popping into her head.
*********************************************
"You're just so...fickle."
"Fickle? I am not fickle."
"Yes, you are. You're meant to be pining for Hermione, but you flirt with me - yes, you do, don't deny it - and in the meantime you're snogging Fleur. You're fickle."
"I'm not fickle, I'm just a Malfoy."
*********************************************
"Who says I'm jealous of you?"
"You are," said Harry calmly. "Just like I'm jealous of you."
"Well, of course you're jealous of me," said Draco. "I dress well, I speak beautifully, I have a great sense of humor, I can dance, I'm introspective, fun, creative, playful, and passionate, plus I have a knowledge of fine wines and am a devastatingly handsome heir to millions."
Harry eyed him narrowly. "Thanks, but I'm already in a relationship."
*********************************************
"What if I fight it?" Draco demanded, his voice taking on a slightly wild tone. "What then?"
"What happens to a watch when you wind it backwards?" replied Lucius. "It breaks."
*********************************************
"Why is it," said Harry, in an unpleasantly calm voice, "that demons never have anything good to say? It's all 'Soon you will die' and 'Hell is coming' and 'Beware your doom.' Never just, 'Seasons Greetings from the Underworld!'"
*********************************************
Wormtail spoke then, and his voice was his voice, but at the same time, it wasn't. "Draco Malfoy," he said, a faint buzzing undercutting his speech. "You are the Heir of Slytherin. The time has come for you to ascend to your proper place, which is yours by right of blood and inheritance. The time has come for you to accept your patrimony."
Draco looked alarmed. I don't have any children. I don't think I have any children. I'd remember something like that.
Patrimony, idiot, not palimony. It means your heritage, your destiny... look, whatever it is, you don't want it. Tell him no.
Draco turned back to Wormtail. "No."
*********************************************
"Force me?" Draco's face took on the tense, slightly maniacal look that Harry knew meant he was now not just very but extremely angry. He held out his left hand and the sword flew from the grass and landed in his grasp. He swung it forward, the blade toward Wormtail. "Come anywhere near me, and I'll introduce you to the pointy end of Clarence."
"Clarence?" Wormtail said, blinking.
"You named your sword?" Harry said.
"So?" said Draco.
"You named it Clarence?"
"Well, it was either that or give it a really overwrought name like Durendal or Greyswandir or Drynwyn and why are we talking about this right now?"
********************************************
"It's kind of a long story," said Ron, looking nervous.
"Fell off my broomstick," said Draco shortly.
"Apparently not that long."
*********************************************
"Do you want to be dead, child?" asked the spirit of Helga Hufflepuff, in a gentle sort of voice.
Draco looked down at his blood-caked shirt. "I don't know. I'm not sure." He looked around. "At least it's peaceful here."
"Peaceful?" Godric echoed incredulously. "This is not the land of the restful dead. This is the land of the murdered, those who have died before their time, those whose blood cries out from the ground for vengeance-"
"Godric, please," interrupted Rowena. "Don't make a three-act play out of it."
********************************************
"He must not have been reading his Evil Overlord handbook," grinned Sirius. "Rule 54: 'I will not strike a bargain with a demonic being, then attempt to double-cross it simply because I feel like being contrary.'"
Read the list, guys: :D http://www.eviloverlord.com/lists/overlord.html
Okay, obviously, I'm really liking this story. ;D
*********************************************
Draco didn't quite know how to respond. However he might feel about his father, family pride precluded him from insulting him in the presence of strangers, or near-strangers. He recalled having once told Harry that he hated Lucius, but that had been different because he'd been quite sure he was about to die at the time, and anyway, that had been Harry. Snape calling his father a liar was something else again. According to the Malfoy Family Code of Conduct (length: three hundred pages, containing 1,376 rules ranging from: "The Malfoy family dress robe colors are black, green and silver, except on state occasions when it is permissible to wear red, silver and black" to "Malfoys are expressly forbidden from practicing inappropriate Lust Charms on members of the animal kingdom, especially in the topiary garden; this means you, Uncle Hector") he should, to save the honor of his family, leap to his feet and hit Snape in the eye. But he didn't much feel like it, so he contented himself with glaring furiously at his half-empty teacup and muttering,
"Milk."
"What was that?"
"Milk," said Draco again. "For my tea. I need some."
"Get it yourself," said Snape shortly.
*********************************************
Draco wished he could sleep, but the Wakefulness potion didn't allow it. He had been grateful at first for the alert and burning energy it gave him, but now he felt weary of it. Not that he wanted to sleep and dream - he certainly didn't want that. But he was bored. Snape had gone into his workroom to play with his potions, and Draco had been kicking aimlessly around the house. He'd discovered very little, except that Snape had peculiar musical taste and that, if what was folded on top of the washing machine was any indication to go by, he slept in blue flannel pajamas decorated with little red hearts. Yikes, Draco thought.
*********************************************
Ginny realized that she was struggling not to laugh. This is so unfair, she thought irritably. A year ago, if someone had asked her for three words that described Draco Malfoy, she would have chosen "complete" "utter" and "bastard." Now words like "engaging" and "funny" and even "charming" kept popping into her head.
*********************************************
"You're just so...fickle."
"Fickle? I am not fickle."
"Yes, you are. You're meant to be pining for Hermione, but you flirt with me - yes, you do, don't deny it - and in the meantime you're snogging Fleur. You're fickle."
"I'm not fickle, I'm just a Malfoy."
*********************************************
"Who says I'm jealous of you?"
"You are," said Harry calmly. "Just like I'm jealous of you."
"Well, of course you're jealous of me," said Draco. "I dress well, I speak beautifully, I have a great sense of humor, I can dance, I'm introspective, fun, creative, playful, and passionate, plus I have a knowledge of fine wines and am a devastatingly handsome heir to millions."
Harry eyed him narrowly. "Thanks, but I'm already in a relationship."
*********************************************
"What if I fight it?" Draco demanded, his voice taking on a slightly wild tone. "What then?"
"What happens to a watch when you wind it backwards?" replied Lucius. "It breaks."
*********************************************
"Why is it," said Harry, in an unpleasantly calm voice, "that demons never have anything good to say? It's all 'Soon you will die' and 'Hell is coming' and 'Beware your doom.' Never just, 'Seasons Greetings from the Underworld!'"
*********************************************
Wormtail spoke then, and his voice was his voice, but at the same time, it wasn't. "Draco Malfoy," he said, a faint buzzing undercutting his speech. "You are the Heir of Slytherin. The time has come for you to ascend to your proper place, which is yours by right of blood and inheritance. The time has come for you to accept your patrimony."
Draco looked alarmed. I don't have any children. I don't think I have any children. I'd remember something like that.
Patrimony, idiot, not palimony. It means your heritage, your destiny... look, whatever it is, you don't want it. Tell him no.
Draco turned back to Wormtail. "No."
*********************************************
"Force me?" Draco's face took on the tense, slightly maniacal look that Harry knew meant he was now not just very but extremely angry. He held out his left hand and the sword flew from the grass and landed in his grasp. He swung it forward, the blade toward Wormtail. "Come anywhere near me, and I'll introduce you to the pointy end of Clarence."
"Clarence?" Wormtail said, blinking.
"You named your sword?" Harry said.
"So?" said Draco.
"You named it Clarence?"
"Well, it was either that or give it a really overwrought name like Durendal or Greyswandir or Drynwyn and why are we talking about this right now?"
********************************************
"It's kind of a long story," said Ron, looking nervous.
"Fell off my broomstick," said Draco shortly.
"Apparently not that long."
*********************************************
"Do you want to be dead, child?" asked the spirit of Helga Hufflepuff, in a gentle sort of voice.
Draco looked down at his blood-caked shirt. "I don't know. I'm not sure." He looked around. "At least it's peaceful here."
"Peaceful?" Godric echoed incredulously. "This is not the land of the restful dead. This is the land of the murdered, those who have died before their time, those whose blood cries out from the ground for vengeance-"
"Godric, please," interrupted Rowena. "Don't make a three-act play out of it."
********************************************
"He must not have been reading his Evil Overlord handbook," grinned Sirius. "Rule 54: 'I will not strike a bargain with a demonic being, then attempt to double-cross it simply because I feel like being contrary.'"
Read the list, guys: :D http://www.eviloverlord.com/lists/overlord.html
Okay, obviously, I'm really liking this story. ;D