Memoirs of a Serpent's Son

Memoirs of a Serpent’s Son

--Age 13—part 2

Care of Magical Creatures class

Writing this entry is going to prove exceedingly difficult because I only have the use of one of my arms. Let me tell you why.

We had our first Care of Magical Creatures class today. I know, that should be explanation enough for the state of my arm, but I’ll go on anyway.

We have the class with the Gryffindors, which makes it that much more exciting, of course. So we all trudged out through the grounds down to the oaf’s hut. What kills me is that he seemed surprised that none of us had been able to open our books. IT WAS BITING AT ME, of COURSE I refused to open it!

“Yeh’ve got ter stroke ‘em!” he said, as though it was painfully obvious. Good thing it worked, otherwise I might have just hexed him on the stop, no thought to the consequences. And he thought they were funny.

HONESTLY this is NOT a teacher!

Anyway….

He took us to the edge of the Forest, to a padlocked area and then comes back with this warped half-bird half-horse creature he calls a Hippogriff. There were several, all different colours and pelts, but he took this particular one up for the class to see close up. As though we’d ever wanted to come in close contact with such a bizarre and clearly unstable creature. Right that’s my dream come true.

I stopped listening for a while and started talking to Crabbe and Goyle instead. I know, I know. I should have been paying attention because I’ll get nowhere from disrespecting teachers, no matter how useless they are, but it’s not my fault! I’m a very bright student and if my mind isn’t challenged enough then it wanders! It’s not my fault that Hagrid’s pitiful teaching abilities were too mundane to keep the attention of my over-active mind! It’s his job to keep me interested!

He cheekily asked for a volunteer to go up get to know the damn thing. Right, like that seemed a good plan. Potter, naturally, volunteered for the heroic task, because that’s what he DOES. That’s when I started paying attention again. The prospect of Potter possibly getting mauled by a great beast was too much to pass up.

He bowed to the thing and then it bowed back, or something. Why this needed to be done, I’ve no clue. Perhaps the oaf explained that while I was otherwise engaging my mind. I don’t really care.

In any case, Potter walked right up to the beast after that and pet his feathers before Hagrid decided to send Potter for a ride. I was greatly disappointed that Potter hadn’t gotten mauled, but perhaps if he got thrown off, fifty feet in the air, that might make up for it.

He got on and the beast jumped into the air. Potter looked scared at first, but then he seemed to get a hang of it and I watched him closely as he soared atop this hideously beautiful beast, the wind rushing through his unruly hair…

I think I was staring with my mouth open because Crabbe asked me if I was alright. I snapped to attention and glared at him. I didn’t have an answer. I don’t think I’m alright at all…

Anyway, Potter landed and got off the Hippogriff unharmed, much to my dismay. The whole class cheered for him as though he’d just tamed a wild dragon or something. What simple-minded fools they are. So easily impressed.

After that we split into groups to take on the beasts. I got the one that Potter had ridden. I gave him a sidelong glance, wondering if he noticed at all. I don’t know what that mattered…

So I mimicked him and bowed to the creature. It bowed back, naturally, and I went up to pet it. The feathers were soft and smooth, but the creature wasn’t reacting to me the same way as it had to Potter. It figures…

Another one that loves Potter but has no time for me.

I started to boast loudly about how easy the whole thing was. I mean if Potter can do it, so can anyone, right? He doesn’t pull of things that are particularly difficult; he just happens to always be the first one there.

I went on for a while about how easy it was and how the great brute of an animal is really not so dangerous after all. That was when it all went wrong.

The creature reared on its hind legs and slashed down at me, catching my arm in its wake. I fell back to the ground and curled on my side, feeling the familiar sting of pain spread through me.

I’m not a coward or a wimp, but some things I cannot stand for long…. Stabbing pain is one of them.

I don’t know what happened then because I shut my eyes and clutched my bleeding arm. The Hippogriff was gone when I opened them again and everyone was crowded around. Hagrid lifted me into his massive arms and started taking me away. I may have yelled out something about dying and it having killed me, but I can’t be sure.

All I remember clearly was looking at Potter as I was being carried away and feeling something heavy fall through my stomach. He looked mildly shocked, but altogether, the whole ordeal didn’t seem to bother him.

But that bothered me.

How could he care so deeply about everyone else and yet feel nothing, NOTHING for me? I was badly hurt and yet NOTHING. It doesn’t get so much as an “is he going to be ok?” out of him, but some random first year could stub their toe and he’d rush to their side to help them walk!

My muscles tensed and I started shaking from the frustration. By the time I’d gotten to Madam Pomfrey, my robes were soaked in blood and I’d aggravated the wound somehow. She huffed at me while she buzzed around looking for the adequate ointments to use on me. I didn’t care at that point.

Something strange though is that Hagrid wouldn’t leave my side until he knew I’d be alright. I suppose he is sort of kind, despite his being an oaf and a lousy teacher…

But I didn’t concentrate on that either. I was too busy thinking about Potter and how he was probably happy I’d gotten hurt. He was probably celebrating the whole thing now. I could be dying and he’d be having a grand old time with his friends.

He doesn’t care and never will.

The heavy weight dropped through my stomach again and a strong pang hit my heart. I winced and bit my tongue, forcing my muscles to tense again, reopening the wound that the nurse had just closed.

I fought hard against the instinct I had to cry. My father had taught me that tears were the body’s show of weakness. Malfoys don’t cry. Every time I’d cry while he punished me, he’d start again until I learned to stop.

Madam Pomfrey huffed again, though she seemed a little worried. She told Hagrid to leave and continued to administer ointments and potions that might stop the reactions. I didn’t tell her that I knew what was causing the wound to reopen. I just let her do her work and hoped that it wouldn’t make a difference in the end.

She said there was some slight nerve damage from the depth of the cut and, because of the wound’s tendency to reopen, she said she’d have to put my arm in a sling. I shrugged at her and let her do it.

The other thing I didn’t mention to her was that when I was younger I had a form of anaemia. The Nurse back home treated it with potions and said she’d fixed it, but I haven’t gotten hurt in many years. We kept her there just in case.
She asked me if I was still in pain and I said yes, without hesitation. I just didn’t tell her what kind of pain or why. I know why. I’m never going to tell her though.

She said she’d have to keep me for a few days. I shrugged and told her I didn’t mind. I know that I seemed off to her though. My face was blank and my eyes were sullen. I wasn’t the usual Draco Malfoy and I know it. I let down my façade for a moment in my pain and frustration.

The only reason I’m writing this right now is because she’s gone off to sleep and I’m alone in the hospital wing.

An Owl was sent to Father, of course. As well as the School Governors. I’ll be that Potter is really happy about that. I bet he thinks I’m faking this all and I deserved what I got anyway. Probably thinks that I’m just out to get Hagrid sacked, just to annoy him.

What he doesn’t realize is that my entire life does not revolved around him…

Not entirely anyway.

*****

I got to go back to classes today. I made it to Potions about forty-five minutes late. Professor Snape didn’t mind, though. He never would. Pansy immediately asked if I was alright. She asked if it hurt. I put on a face and made pained noises before turning and winking at Crabbe and Goyle, just to make sure I’d covered all my bases. The girl needs to think that I’m a wounded hero… the boys need to know that I’m strong and nothing can really get to me.

What neither of them know is that I really am still in pain.

I sat myself down next to Potter and the Weasel. They didn’t seem happy about that, but I was. I like sitting so close to Potter… Though it did cause a minor…urge again. I quickly shifted myself and the pain in my arm killed that sensation immediately. Why does that keep happening???

I put on a smirk and raised my good hand to Snape. I told him that I would need help with my ingredients and he, without a moment’s hesitation, assigned Potter and Weasel to prepare my ingredients for me. I smiled at that.

At least this damn wound was getting something good for me. Potter would have to be my servant… if only for a class.

They both did their work grudgingly while I sat back. Neither seemed to believe that my injury was real but I wasn’t going to prove to them otherwise. I owe them nothing. They have no right to expect me not to make the best of this.

Ok, so the wound healed alright. The bandages were just to make sure it stayed that way and the sling was to stop me from moving it too much, but it DID still hurt. It would for a while…

I started stirring my potion when I heard one of the other Gryffindors…. Seamus I think they called him, start talking about Black. He was apparently sighted and Potter and Weasel turned around immediately to discuss. I listened closely to the conversation for as long as I could before Weasel noticed that I was eavesdropping.

I ignored his comment and turned my attention to Potter. I asked him what he was going to do about it. I told him that if I were in his position I wouldn’t be sitting around school being a ‘good little boy’. I told him I’d be out looking for Black…. Said I would want revenge.

Potter didn’t understand what I was talking about, which makes me think that no one really told him anything specific about Black. He clearly knows that Black is after him, but I sparked a strange curiosity in his eyes when I gave him my cryptic message.

He showed interest in me for a moment. Just a moment. It wasn’t even me he was interested in. It was the information I had, but it didn’t matter. He wanted to talk to me more and find out more. But he didn’t.

I smirked to myself. I’m still smirking about that.

Potter might need me. The idea makes me laugh.

******

I cannot stand Lupin. I can’t. His entire appearance offends me. His robes are shabby and frayed. His classes are a joke. He is far too….KIND. He’s not bothered by anything and his demeanor is ultimately cheery. I cannot understand. It’s as though little actually affects him and I cannot stand it.

Potter loves him. I know he does. He loves Defense Against the Dark Arts. Maybe he thinks it’s logical for him to love it because of who he is and all. I don’t know, but I cannot stand it. He’s good at it too. I know he is. It’s likely his best class…

He and Lupin are perfect for each other. They deserve one another.

Both of them and their stupid class. They’re foolish ideas about good and evil. They’re happy smiles they reserve for everyone else in the world except me.

Potter and his friendly demeanor. The painfully casual way that he walks around the castle…. the way he talks and sits with his friends just grates on my nerves. I can’t stand it.

I can’t stand that he can be so comfortable one minute and then just pick out some intense anger from nowhere when I pass him by.

It frustrates me…it hurts.

No, it just makes me hate him. Yes. I hate him. I do…

*****
Invisible Ink

Gods this is not happening. I’ll never get a proper night’s sleep if this keeps happening. It’s just past midnight now and I haven’t been able to sleep at all. I started thinking in bed…I was thinking about Potter and how angry I am with him. I was mulling over the way he brushes me aside and how much I hate him and then IT HAPPENED.

AGAIN.

This…. Urge. I need to find a better way to explain it without having to say it outright. Whatever. It happened again. I was lying in bed, the hangings drawn and all alone in the dark when it came over me. I can’t explain it. Is this kind of thing USUALLY driven by hate?!?

I tried hard to get a rid of it but it wouldn’t go away… so… I….Gods this is taking every fiber of my being. I can’t write this, not now. It’s not proper… but I have to… to get it out of my system so I don’t actually have to tell anyone…

I started… touching it. I had to. I had to get rid of it as fast as possible so I stroked myself softly for a bit. It didn’t help much so I did it harder. That didn’t help either until the image of Potter flickered in my mind. It didn’t take long after that… I did get rid of it but I was rather messy after that.

But what is wrong with me?? Why does Potter do that to me?? Maybe the image of him made it go away faster because I hate him. Yeah…

That’s it.

******

Night before Hogsmeade trip

We get our first trip into Hogsmeade tomorrow. I’m excited about that. It’s nice to get out of the castle and see civilization again every once in a while. I’m looking forwards to getting sweets at Honeydukes and some interesting items from Zonko’s. I’ve never been to Hogsmeade before but everyone knows what there is there. Everyone is going… Well.

Everyone except Potter.

I found that out today. He can’t go to the town because he hasn’t got his permission slip signed. I couldn’t help but smile when I’d found out. He has to stay at Hogwarts all alone with a bunch of first and second years.

Poor Saint Potter… doesn’t get to go with his friends to Hogsmeade. Must be lonely alone at school. Maybe I’ll stay back one time just to keep him company. Ha, ha. I bet he’d love that.

I could have a lot of fun taunting him when he’s apart from his precious friends.

Making fun of him of course. Nothing else.

Just good old insults. Because I hate him.

Hate him.

-----IIIII-----

A/N: Ah Draco. You silly, silly Slytherin. You should know better than that by now. Tsk tsk tsk. Ah well. I hope you don’t mind I played with his health a bit there. I decided to give him anaemia… well in his childhood. Why? I don’t know but it occurred to me as useful. I don’t think that that is terribly contradictory to anything in the books (except for the fact that it’s never mentioned lol) so yeah. I hope you are all enjoying the slow and agonizing unraveling of his resolve! I have so much more to put him through *evil*

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