(no subject)
harry potter; pureblood genocide series, 1997
pansy parkinson is a bloody cow (four of nine) 849 words
Not a day after the Slytherins were freed, Theodore and Draco returned from the battles with the body of Blaise, silenced and stunned with his wand sticking out of his neck. Nothing could save him now, especially since Pomfrey was dead, and Snape told them not to bother trying. Blaise bled through Pansy's last white blouse and they covered his body in one of the Slytherin dorms since they had no use for them anymore.
Pansy went on for days about how much she liked that blouse and then settled for saying pure blood was the newest trend. Like anyone locked in the castle could inspire trends anyway. Draco and Theodore spoke to no one, as there was no one worthy of speaking to, but each other.
"I wish someone would kill that fucking cow. The audacity she has to strut around insulting Blaise's memory with her talk of trends and trying to impress me like I care and-"
"And blah blah bloody fucking blah, no one cares Draco. No one cares about you or Pansy or anything so just shut the fuck up and hand me that dagger."
Draco would have thrown it at his head if he had any aim, but then his entertainment would be gone and he would be left with Millicent and Pansy and the fucking Gryffindors and that was both annoying and unacceptable, even to think of. He gave Theodore the dagger and watched him leave the Great Hall, then retreated to the library for some peace and quiet. It was the only place to get quiet around the castle since they drove the New Death Eaters out. They had lost half the students and all the teachers, save for Dumbledore and Snape, to Potter either by death or by bond, but those that were left were dreadfully bothersome and Draco would rather take his own life than listen to their plans of escape and war for another second.
All it was was talk of how they would escape or how they would defeat them or how they would manage to rebuild the Wizarding community, but no one was doing anything. Draco would have been outside killing Hufflepuffs except there was a chance that his blood would be spilled by a mudblood and he wasn't about to take chances. No one knew that, of course, because Malfoy's always have excuses. Draco's was that murder was servant's work.
Of course, he had killed before. He killed a house elf on his thirteenth birthday for getting him a chocolate cake when he clearly stated he wanted vanilla, and he killed that stupid owl Weasley had to stop it from twittering around his head like a deluded fool. And two days ago he killed Justin Finch Fletchley by accident, but he deserved it since he was joining the ranks of perfect Potter and his dirty blooded army of idiots. Whatever, Draco had killed before and he would do it again if he had to, but now was not the bloody time.
He was just in the middle or trying to read Hogwarts: A History, the section on Godric Gryffindor being a prat and letting in mudbloods was slightly entertaining considering the current situation, when Theo, looking pissed off, stuck a bloody dagger in a picture of Godric who dodged the blade and shook an angry fist in the air. He ruined both the book and Draco's quiet mood.
"Granger has the only other copy of this book and you've got to be fucking joking if you think I'm going to ask her to lend it to me. Way to ruin everything, Theo."
"I killed the insolent bloody cow," he started, pushing red hands into his pockets. "And dinner's ready." He left without a word and Draco followed suit after a moment's thought. It didn't matter to him if Pansy was dead or not since he would be too, after the war, and their wedding would never happen. He was better off without her. The whole world was better off, in fact.
Ron Weasley and his useless brothers weren't actually that useless after all, since their dinner was edible and their opinion of Potter had changed to Draco's liking. They were pureblood, too, and no longer blood traitors in the sense that those they would betray their blood to defend or befriend were now trying to kill them, and no one wanted that. Well, Draco still sort of wanted that, but not as much as he wanted to see his mother again, or take back what happened to his father, or kill Harry fucking Potter.
For now, though, he would settle for eating tomato soup and pumpkin pasties and listening to Theo's take on why Arithmancy was the most interesting class he's ever taken and how it tied in with life's greatest secrets. "Things will sort themselves out," Theo said, and Draco nodded, handing him the dagger which he had cleaned. Theo hadn't even realized, but the blade twisted into a skull with a green snake protruding from the mouth, the word NOTT engraved in the scales.
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