(no subject)
I should not have been surprised that a Ball that had the unfortunate souls of this school amongst its attendees should go famously disastrous. Had this been a social event hosted by My Parents, or another one of the more elite members of the wizarding society, nothing like this evening would have happened.
It was off to a well enough start: Pansy managed to look acceptable, so I allowed her to wear my cloak from Slytherin to the Great Hall. Of course, afterwards it reeked of sandalwood, but my generosity often curses me this way. As you saw, she decided to go with the Camilla Dress, which wasn't the worst thing she could have chosen. It suited her frame marvellously, and I have to say she looked ravishing.
Unlike some peoples' dates.
The decorations were, of course, tacky. A five-year-old Muggle could have done better. The food? Less than savoury. I myself had the lobster, while Pansy seemed content with water and a celery stalk. I was not amused to find a note rolled up inside the lobster's claw which read, 'U choAk malloy!' I do not know who this Malloy character is, but I am tired of getting his post.
We sat with Crabbe and Millicent, who were both wearing the most ridiculous robes known to mankind. You saw them. Millicent picked them out, of course. She learns from her mother. Crabbe really needs to learn to let women know who is boss. Then, horror of all horrors, that Calvin Creepy fellow came over and took our photo. Really, the photographic version of me had better do its best to block those horrendous robes from the photograph.
Later, I was dancing with my adoring date, and who should step on my robes? Gina Weasley, looking very much like a giant sanitary napkin in red. I'm quite sure she did it because she was jealous that mine were brand-new and she'd had to stay up all night sewing hers. And who was her date? HER BROTHER. Ha ha ha. Do I even need to go into that? I think it speaks for itself, really.
The dance floor was, of course, an absolute atrocity. All night, Finnigan of Gryffindor was predictably intoxicated and swinging about, knocking everyone into each other. As we all know, Potter couldn't dance his way out of a satchel, and the Weaselette and company were no picnic, either.
Pansy's feet started hurting, eventually. I guess she can't take the pressures of beauty. She said something about her heartbroken arches and the mournful despair they had been castrated for. Yeah, all right. I do wish Pansy hadn't entered this stage, as she was perfectly fine before. It's rather hard to stay around her. I think she offered to sacrifice her pinky toes to my altar. So I told her to carry on and went outside to get away from the dreadful stuffiness that is Hogwarts.
And of course, you know what happened from there. I cannot sneeze without it becoming Hogwarts gossip.
You know, I was just minding my own business, sitting outside, taking a break from the ball to say my evening prayers. I was just asking god to look over all homeless people everywhere, when the doors behind me flew open and Potter stomped out. I should've known immediately that he'd cracked. He was practically boiling in rage.
'Draco Malfoy,' he said, 'I hate you. You are so much more handsome, rich, clever, and/or popular than I am. Well, I have had enough. This time, it is personal. Do you know what time it is? It is time for you to die. Die, Malfoy. Die.'
Then, he attacked me! He punched me square in the nose, and I hardly had time to say, 'Violence solves nothing, Potter' before he dragged me into the dirt and started kicking me. Of course, I had to defend myself! I wasn't just going to lie there, taking it. My bloody nose was broken, and he just wouldn't stop. He's quite clearly a sociopath. I knew something wasn't right about that boy.
Of course, my dress robes got completely covered in dirt. Torn, blood all over them (I landed a pretty solid punch on Potter's mouth and I think I split his lip). Absolutely ruined. But was that enough for Potter? Of course not! He didn't let up at all until Professor Black and Professor Lupin appeared 'magically' out of the bushes.
Of course, the fun didn't stop there! No, no!
I'd initially thought Potter must've got out his wand at some point, because evidently, neither one of us could get off of each other. Naturally, I assumed Potter was faking it and had put some sort of hex on me. But, as it appears, one of the Weasley twins (whichever one is more incestuous, who knows) decided it would be oh so clever to slip a potion into the punch. I hadn't even drank that bloody punch all night, until I went outside.
Do you know how unfathomably disgusting it is being stuck to Potter?!
And of course, once the professors finally got us apart, everything was about Potter. Never mind the fact that I was dying from a brain haemorrhage due to the punch Potter'd landed on my nose. Never mind the fact that Potter had nearly killed me! I was dying, I'm certain of it. Mark my words, I won't forget this.
But never mind any of that! All Black and Lupin wanted to hear was Potter's side of the story. And since it was all his fault, Potter didn't say a word. Although he did threaten me and try to hit me again, and the professors, as usual, did nothing.
Incredibly sodding typical of this school. Surely the Slytherin is to blame, despite the fact that his nose is forever going to be RUINED. Not to mention the fact that Potter should surely be paying to have my robes replaced. There's a gigantic gash right through the back of them! Oh, but yes, let's blame it on good old Malfoy.
Typically, Professor McGonagall came thundering in, and when I told her, quite plainly, what had happened, she took fifty points from both houses. Surely it won't hurt Slytherin too badly, but that's beside the point. I've just had fifty points taken from me for minding my own business. My Father is not going to be pleased when he reads about this.
Then, none of the professors even bothered to escort me to the hospital wing. I'm surprised I made it there without fainting from the loss of blood.
Anyway, Nurse Feratu (you may know her as Pomfrey) was completely unsympathetic, as usual. I'm sure she shoved Potter's fat head between her fat breasts when he was there and coddled him like a baby, but not even a bed for me. No, I had to sit on the bloody counter like some sort of toddler while she fixed up my nose.
She says it's impossible that my nose could have healed improperly from the spell. She said she does that spell all the time, and she's never had one nose heal crookedly. Nonetheless, I'll probably need rhinoplasty now. After all, she healed Potter's nose last week, and his certainly isn't looking nice and even. But then, it's not as though he had a Malfoy nose to start with.
Anyway. After that, she didn't even get me a levitating stretcher, and I was covered in bruises. The staff of this school somehow expects its injured students to be able to walk. When I got back to Slytherin, the whole dungeons were empty, save for a first year, who was hanging by his wrists from the chandelier. He seemed so relieved to see someone who might just let him down. Instead, I turned out the torches and went to bed.
It was off to a well enough start: Pansy managed to look acceptable, so I allowed her to wear my cloak from Slytherin to the Great Hall. Of course, afterwards it reeked of sandalwood, but my generosity often curses me this way. As you saw, she decided to go with the Camilla Dress, which wasn't the worst thing she could have chosen. It suited her frame marvellously, and I have to say she looked ravishing.
Unlike some peoples' dates.
The decorations were, of course, tacky. A five-year-old Muggle could have done better. The food? Less than savoury. I myself had the lobster, while Pansy seemed content with water and a celery stalk. I was not amused to find a note rolled up inside the lobster's claw which read, 'U choAk malloy!' I do not know who this Malloy character is, but I am tired of getting his post.
We sat with Crabbe and Millicent, who were both wearing the most ridiculous robes known to mankind. You saw them. Millicent picked them out, of course. She learns from her mother. Crabbe really needs to learn to let women know who is boss. Then, horror of all horrors, that Calvin Creepy fellow came over and took our photo. Really, the photographic version of me had better do its best to block those horrendous robes from the photograph.
Later, I was dancing with my adoring date, and who should step on my robes? Gina Weasley, looking very much like a giant sanitary napkin in red. I'm quite sure she did it because she was jealous that mine were brand-new and she'd had to stay up all night sewing hers. And who was her date? HER BROTHER. Ha ha ha. Do I even need to go into that? I think it speaks for itself, really.
The dance floor was, of course, an absolute atrocity. All night, Finnigan of Gryffindor was predictably intoxicated and swinging about, knocking everyone into each other. As we all know, Potter couldn't dance his way out of a satchel, and the Weaselette and company were no picnic, either.
Pansy's feet started hurting, eventually. I guess she can't take the pressures of beauty. She said something about her heartbroken arches and the mournful despair they had been castrated for. Yeah, all right. I do wish Pansy hadn't entered this stage, as she was perfectly fine before. It's rather hard to stay around her. I think she offered to sacrifice her pinky toes to my altar. So I told her to carry on and went outside to get away from the dreadful stuffiness that is Hogwarts.
And of course, you know what happened from there. I cannot sneeze without it becoming Hogwarts gossip.
You know, I was just minding my own business, sitting outside, taking a break from the ball to say my evening prayers. I was just asking god to look over all homeless people everywhere, when the doors behind me flew open and Potter stomped out. I should've known immediately that he'd cracked. He was practically boiling in rage.
'Draco Malfoy,' he said, 'I hate you. You are so much more handsome, rich, clever, and/or popular than I am. Well, I have had enough. This time, it is personal. Do you know what time it is? It is time for you to die. Die, Malfoy. Die.'
Then, he attacked me! He punched me square in the nose, and I hardly had time to say, 'Violence solves nothing, Potter' before he dragged me into the dirt and started kicking me. Of course, I had to defend myself! I wasn't just going to lie there, taking it. My bloody nose was broken, and he just wouldn't stop. He's quite clearly a sociopath. I knew something wasn't right about that boy.
Of course, my dress robes got completely covered in dirt. Torn, blood all over them (I landed a pretty solid punch on Potter's mouth and I think I split his lip). Absolutely ruined. But was that enough for Potter? Of course not! He didn't let up at all until Professor Black and Professor Lupin appeared 'magically' out of the bushes.
Of course, the fun didn't stop there! No, no!
I'd initially thought Potter must've got out his wand at some point, because evidently, neither one of us could get off of each other. Naturally, I assumed Potter was faking it and had put some sort of hex on me. But, as it appears, one of the Weasley twins (whichever one is more incestuous, who knows) decided it would be oh so clever to slip a potion into the punch. I hadn't even drank that bloody punch all night, until I went outside.
Do you know how unfathomably disgusting it is being stuck to Potter?!
And of course, once the professors finally got us apart, everything was about Potter. Never mind the fact that I was dying from a brain haemorrhage due to the punch Potter'd landed on my nose. Never mind the fact that Potter had nearly killed me! I was dying, I'm certain of it. Mark my words, I won't forget this.
But never mind any of that! All Black and Lupin wanted to hear was Potter's side of the story. And since it was all his fault, Potter didn't say a word. Although he did threaten me and try to hit me again, and the professors, as usual, did nothing.
Incredibly sodding typical of this school. Surely the Slytherin is to blame, despite the fact that his nose is forever going to be RUINED. Not to mention the fact that Potter should surely be paying to have my robes replaced. There's a gigantic gash right through the back of them! Oh, but yes, let's blame it on good old Malfoy.
Typically, Professor McGonagall came thundering in, and when I told her, quite plainly, what had happened, she took fifty points from both houses. Surely it won't hurt Slytherin too badly, but that's beside the point. I've just had fifty points taken from me for minding my own business. My Father is not going to be pleased when he reads about this.
Then, none of the professors even bothered to escort me to the hospital wing. I'm surprised I made it there without fainting from the loss of blood.
Anyway, Nurse Feratu (you may know her as Pomfrey) was completely unsympathetic, as usual. I'm sure she shoved Potter's fat head between her fat breasts when he was there and coddled him like a baby, but not even a bed for me. No, I had to sit on the bloody counter like some sort of toddler while she fixed up my nose.
She says it's impossible that my nose could have healed improperly from the spell. She said she does that spell all the time, and she's never had one nose heal crookedly. Nonetheless, I'll probably need rhinoplasty now. After all, she healed Potter's nose last week, and his certainly isn't looking nice and even. But then, it's not as though he had a Malfoy nose to start with.
Anyway. After that, she didn't even get me a levitating stretcher, and I was covered in bruises. The staff of this school somehow expects its injured students to be able to walk. When I got back to Slytherin, the whole dungeons were empty, save for a first year, who was hanging by his wrists from the chandelier. He seemed so relieved to see someone who might just let him down. Instead, I turned out the torches and went to bed.