(Untitled)
I'm sure you've all wondered where I've been lately. Unfortunately it's nothing nearly as exciting as my last disappearance. Just bloody busy with summer classes.
You'll all be pleased to hear I passed with flying colors thanks in most part to Ginny and partially to Granger and I started training to become an Auror on the first. It's exhausting ( Read more... )
You'll all be pleased to hear I passed with flying colors thanks in most part to Ginny and partially to Granger and I started training to become an Auror on the first. It's exhausting ( Read more... )
Comments 12
It seems like everyone is busy. I have been...
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Je suis libre dimanche, oui. J'aimerais bien te rencontre.
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Je vous verrai dimanche.
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Of course your mum would be proud of you. My mum is proud of you, even, as I'm sure she's told you. She goes on about you, "My Draco, you know, is going to be an Auror. He's perfect for it," like you're another one of her sons. You've replaced Percy as the highest achieving child. Hah.
The letter you demanded, by the way, is in the works now. I am filling you in on all the naughty details of my summer fling and all the gruelingly boring details of the first weeks back at Hogwarts. And how a first year came on to me on the train, and how I go to try out this new hex I learned from Standard Book of Spells Vol. 7
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I'll be keeping my eye out for that letter. You best not leave a single raunchy detail out of it, now. A bloody first year, really? Little wankers are getting bolder. I hope it was a good curse.
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Oh, lord. This little blighter comes up to me and tugs on my sleeve, and in this snotty fucking superior voice says, "My mates will give me ten Galleons if I can get you to shag me." And just before I burst into uproarious laughter I manage to say, "How will they pay you if you're dead?" The sweet memory of his look of terror will be getting me through many a History of Magic lessons, I assure you. That hex was fiendish, it sticks you to the nearest stationary object with a think, putrid-smelling, stinging, viscous blue fluid. I get a spark of glee thinking about that little fuck smashed against the wall of the train while his mates take the mick out of him mercilessly ( ... )
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Forget hexing, I would have punched the little fucker in the face. How in the world did you control yourself?
And of course a Slytherin put him up to it. We always enjoy a laugh at the expense of others.
But you tell that third year if he messes with you again, he'll have to answer to me.
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'Dear Draco,
I'm stuck at Hogwarts looking at pickled organs, autopsies, and crazy people. The children make me want to vomit. I hope you're well and kicking lots of arse, as the only arse I am kicking is a dead one, literally, with the tip of my finger as I attempt to deduce whether there is a tumor or not.
All my extremely bored love,
Pansy.'
Excuse me while I rot in place.
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You're ridiculous, woman, cause excitement. Lock one of the ickle firsties in the Room. The one with the shackles and the blood stains that Snape uses to scare the shite out of us. Honestly, I'm ashamed of you if you haven't done that already. And you call yourself a Slytherin.
Do try not to die of boredom without me, pet, I have nothing to wear to your funeral.
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Don't be silly. I've already tried to coerce the little twigs into fascinating, disturbing exploits. (Remember the one with the Squid and the lake and the other with the broomstick and the coffee? I love being corrupt.) But they're so boring. They stare at me with wide, fearful eyes, and then stick out their fat pink tongues and patter away on their shoes, slapping their behinds as they go free. I've resorted to levitating them around the corridors and so on, but Snape is still on my case, even though I am no longer his bloody student and God knows he does the same thing on his own time.
I have nothing to wear to my funeral, either. How are classes?
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