Chapter
13
Poisonous
Blackmail
Draco hurt
inside. He wanted to punch all the windows in the manor bare-fisted until
blood
dripped down
his knuckles. Love, love, L-O-V-E. So innocently sweet, yet so devouring...
blood, drips
like a crimson rain; pooling blood...He’d subconsciously put his fist through
a
glass-front
cabinet of meaninglessly expensive china plates. It might have been his
personal
little pain
trip moments ago, but in reality, he winced from the sting of having tiny
glass
fragments
lodged in his hand.
Snape watched
the Dark Lord fight his own inner demons and smiled semi-sardonically to
himself.
Women. Damn
them. So beautiful and divine yet so bloody...bloody what? He couldn’t
even
finish his
own sentence. They were like vampires and damsels at the same time. They
could
send a distress
call straight to your heart and then leave you feeling much like a pile
of dung.
Memories from
all those years ago...
Snape retreated
back to his own personal santuary of photographs and Barbara Streisand
muggle records.
*
Pansy Parkinson
was not one of these vampires or damsels. She was an empty shell of a
person.
Pansy simply
didn’t have inner-emotions. Not because she’d had them taken from her through
a broken-heart
or a dementor’s kiss, but because they merely didn’t exist within her.
She liked
to flaunt
her expensive clothes(muggle and wizard made) around the manor, verbally
abusing a
house-elf
or two on the way. She liked to drape herself all over Draco, and spend
his galleons.
Pansy went
for the physical beauty. She never bothered to connect to Draco on any
other level.
Plumping up
some throw pillows in the drawing room, she waited for Draco that evening,
like
a spider awaiting
the fly.
He entered,
his face stormy like a thunder cloud. Pansy seemed happier than usual,
her makeup;
excessive,
her attitude; too strange. Yet her words were...direct to the point.
“I know about
your little midnight excursions...and I know that these times are not used
for
obedience
lessons with the mudblood.”
“If you don’t
like it, you’re most welcome to leave. I shall be informing Hermione that
she can
have your
room and clothes.” Pansy’s face could not look worse if it had been hit
by a hex.
Draco continued.
“That’s right.
Leave. Leave tonight. But do not think about taking everything you have
bought
with my money.”
“I’m the one
in control here, so listen up Malfoy. I’m telling you now...you better
go out beyond
the poppy
fields tomorrow and kill that little bitch, otherwise,” She paused, pursing
her dark full
lips together,
“I’ll owl the Daily Prophet and tell them what a moron the Dark Lord is.
I’ll give
them details
of where this swinging little manor is, and I’ll have you banished faster
than you can
say kapow.”
Draco glared at Pansy.
“They won’t
be able to find this place...they won’t even be able to detect it. Don’t
you think
I would have
made this place child and idiot-proof already?”
Pansy snorted,
a sound like a cross between a pig and frog, and tossed the pillow from
her
hands over
her shoulder. “Wrong, pea-brain. I know all the spells that take your wonderfully
dark charms
off the manor. So,” Pansy grinned liked a martyr. “I guess you’ll be takin’
sweet-cheeks
out to play with the daisies bright n’ breezy tomorrow, eh? Well, have
a nice
night, Draco
Malfoy.” She gave him a little finger-waggling wave and strolled leisurely
out of
the room.
Back
to Index
Back
to Fanfiction by Title
Back
to Fanfiction by Author