Memoirs of a Serpent's Son

Memoirs of a Serpent’s Son

--Age 13—part 4

Quidditch –Ravenclaw vs. Gryffindor

I love Quidditch matches. So full of excitement and drama and disappointment.

Gryffindor was to play Ravenclaw today to try and get back into the running for the Quidditch Cup. Potter and his team have been on edge since their loss against Hufflepuff and with good reason. They lost to Hufflepuff. Who wouldn’t be on edge?

Anyway, I was preparing myself for a very interesting match at breakfast when suddenly Potter came into the Great Hall with his new broomstick. This wouldn’t normally have bothered me except for the fact that people started shouting that it was a FIREBOLT.

I stared at him dumbfounded for a moment or two, while he walked across the hall to his House table with that aggravating little smirk on his face.

It couldn’t be true…. I refused to believe it until I SAW it with my own two eyes. So I went over to see.

When I did see, I almost had a heart attack on the spot because the damn thing IS a Firebolt and it’s BEAUTIFUL. It’s not the kind of thing that should be in POTTER’S possession! He is not allowed to have ANYthing that fantastic! He has NO RIGHT to further make me jealous.

I’m not jealous.

No.

I tried to make up for my moment of dumb silence with a comment as to his abilities with a broom and more sneering about his reaction to the Dementors; but it didn’t come out right. It was too quiet and calm. Not the right kind of tone for that. I need to improve my shock reaction. Potter sensed that I guess and came back at me with another comment.

He told me it was a pity that I couldn’t attach an extra arm to my broom so that it might catch the snitch for me.

I just about killed him on the spot.

My anger was so strong, though, that it caused me to freeze and glare at him. I couldn’t even raise my arms to wrap my fingers tightly around his neck. Finally Crabbe and Goyle pulled me away, unnoticeably. Only now can my mind fully process what he said and just what I was thinking.

HE’S A BLOODY LIAR.

Has he never watched a match between Slytherin and any other house?? Has he EVER paid any attention to my skills on a broom? CLEARLY NOT.

We FLATTENED Hufflepuff –a feat that the Golden Gryffindors couldn’t seem to manage, I might add –in our match against them. Slytherin has NEVER lost to any other house while I’ve been on their team! And the only reason we’ve ever lost to Gryffindor is because of MINOR TECHNICALITIES!

Potter needs to be shaken out if his dementia. Seriously. Maybe another hundred foot drop would do it. Sounds good to me.

But it still bothers me more than I can say that Potter acts as though he has no clue that I have ever caught a snitch! Does he happily avoid the matches of the other houses? Is he really that self-obsessed? Does he have the kind of superiority complex where anything that doesn’t involve him is meaningless? HONESTLY.

I go to all of HIS games.

I was so angry I wanted to go back to the dormitory and skip his whole damn game. But then I had a better plan.

I swallowed my anger and called Flint over to me with my grand master scheme. I still think it was rather genius if it hadn’t gone quite so… wrong.

I sat myself on Crabbe’s shoulders, because he was the shortest of the other three, and then we all put on excessively long black robes with the hoods up. Then we walked out to the Quidditch match carefully. It was meticulously planned so that we would walk in just when Potter was about to make his capture, or at another equally inopportune time.

So we did. We walked out onto the pitch dressed like Dementors and freaked the hell out of everyone in the stands. I saw Potter briefly in the air, his face only slightly shocked before he cast something with his wand. I didn’t notice what it was at first because I was too busy staring at him. The Firebolt was moving so smoothly through the air and god did he look good on it.

……

There is a filter in my brain that has stopped working and allowed my hand to write things that I do not mean.

Just believe it and we can move steadily on.

Anyway, the thing he had cast closed in on us very quickly and I got a very good look at what it was. It was a GIANT silver STAG. And it was running us down.

I screamed and jumped off Crabbe’s shoulder to run, while Flint and Goyle both bolted in opposite directions. I don’t know what the hell the thing was but I was NOT about to be trampled by a magical beast of ANY sort. I’d had enough of magical beasts for ONE year thank you.

What caused my ultimate downfall, however, was that I ran RIGHT into McGonagal. She was NOT pleased, to say the least. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her voice as shrill as it had been. It was enough to beat out Weasel’s mother from his second year howler. She went on and on about how it was a cheap attempt to sabotage the Gryffindor Seeker and yadda yadda yadda. Taking points or assigning detentions. I wasn’t paying attention to her. My eyes were following Potter down the pitch with his parade of happy fans as he went to the change rooms.

He looked so happy and unperturbed by the whole ordeal. So indifferent to me…

I cursed to myself and we went back to the dormitories. I didn’t say anything to anyone but just went to my room and dropped onto my bed. I couldn’t get that damn image of Potter on his broom out of my head and so stuffed my face into the pillow, grimacing.

He was probably celebrating now, with all of his friends and admirers.

Well not all I suppose… the whole world can’t be with him.

********

Hogsmeade –third trip

It was another trip to Hogsmeade today. Another wonderful Potter-less day. I though of perhaps doing some gift shopping there, but then I remembered, I have no gifts to buy. I could always get something for Potter. Something wickedly funny. Like a Zonko’s product. Something meant to explode in his face when he opens it. Or turn him into a chinchilla for a day. Or turn him green and silver. That would piss him off, I bet.

Maybe I should…

Anyway, we went down and found nothing particularly interesting. Three Broomsticks was far too packed for my liking and Honeydukes was growing boring. I went into Zonko’s to see if perhaps they had something suitable to send Potter but found nothing really appropriate. Honestly, what kind of gift can adequately say “I hate you. Just up and die, already”? None that I know of.

So I came out empty handed.

After quickly deciding there was nothing better to do, I followed Weasel out to the Shrieking Shack to boost my mood a bit and get in some quality bullying time with him. He was such an easy target. It was a pity Potter wouldn’t be there to witness it.

So I started animatedly talking to Crabbe and Goyle about how happy I was that Hagrid was facing the trial today and how much of a fool I knew he was going to make of himself. They laughed along with me and I went on for a bit until we got close enough for me to make comments directly at him. Weasel’s reaction was lovely and oh-so predictable. Instinctively wanting to jump me. He’s such a simple-minded person sometimes.

I snickered to myself quietly but before I could enjoy myself too much I was hit hard in the head with something wet.

Then I realized I was hit with MUD.

MY HAIR and my FACE were covered in MUCK from the GROUND. You’d THINK that by now people would get OFF the damn idea that my face is for target practice with the most disgusting things you can find but NO. ALWAYS THE FACE.

I turned quickly to see who it was with a grimace on my face. But there was no one. I couldn’t see a thing. Just trees and empty space. I shivered for a moment, remembering that we were near the Shrieking Shack : the most haunted establishment in Britain. Weasel made a remark about how haunted it was and my eyes widened.

I was not about to deal with ghosts. Before I could say anything though, I was hit again, this time with slime along with the mud. My head jerked from the impact and I felt the disgusting stuff splatter around. I tried to figure out where it was coming from and sent Crabbe and Goyle forth to deal with whatever it was.

I doubted that it was a ghost because they can’t actually lift things. I’m not completely daft. The stupid Weasel should know better than that. But I did know that whatever it was, I wasn’t going to deal with it myself.

Crabbe tripped over something on his way and then the strangest thing happened. Potter’s head appeared, disembodied in midair.

I screamed, more from the disconcerting concept that Potter was decapitated than anything else, and ran. I didn’t stop but ran directly to the castle, holding my breath as we passed the Dementors.

It didn’t take me long to find Snape and tell him the whole thing. Well not the whole thing, but the important parts. Generally just that I saw Potter’s head in midair in Hogsmeade. He looked as me as though I was insane for a moment before nodding to me and assuring me that it would be taken care of.

I’m not sure if I should believe him or just assume that he thinks I’ve gone completely mad.

Maybe a bit of both, with the things that have been occupying my mind lately.

I shook it off and went to shower to get the disgusting mud and slime out of my hair. I stayed in the showers for over an hour just to make sure I was completely clean. Just the idea of Potter somehow being behind the mud-throwing was enough to make me wash again and again, just to rid myself of the accompanying thoughts.

I cannot be dirty. Not like that.

********

Not much happened today… no nothing to report. Oh wait. No. That’s not true.

I was walking down the front steps of the castle with Crabbe and Goyle as Potter and his followers approached. I can’t say that I wasn’t still miffed about the whole mud-slinging thing, even if I don’t really know that he threw it at me. I mean wouldn’t YOU be?

I stopped him in his tracks to annoy him. Again, this is what I do. He should start to plan his day around these kinds of encounters because they are only going to get more and more frequent so long as he continues to attempt to ignore me.

I joked about how the oaf would probably cry when his precious Beaky got killed and some other little things. I wasn’t talking for longer than a few moments, taking precise note of how angry Potter was getting at my words, when this THING came across my face with the force of a whip. I was in shock for a moment or two before I turned and saw what it was.

The MUDBLOOD had SLAPPED me!

She put her FILTHY hand on my FACE and left a MARK! Do you know what that’s like?

That’s like purposely DEFECATING on SACRED GROUND!

She actually HIT me with her disgusting dirty blooded hands and I couldn’t even believe it! And THEN she pulled her WAND on me!

I glared at her in shock for a minute before I turned my attention to Potter instead. He seemed almost as shocked as I was, but not quite so insulted by the idea. His face betrayed a kind of confusion that didn’t make his thoughts easy to read at all.

My fingers ached for my wand but I couldn’t do it. I just stared at Potter, trying to understand his expression before glaring at the mudblood brat again and turning to leave.

Yes, I know. I let her get away with hitting me and gave her no consequences. Yes I know, Father would punish me for something so stupid but I have no intention of forgetting this.

She will pay… eventually. She will.

For now, however, I can’t act on it. Not as long as I don’t know what Potter was thinking. The look he gave me was the closest thing I’d ever seen to him caring.

And for now, that’s more important.

*******
Invisible Ink

It’s the Quidditch Final tomorrow… Gryffindor against Slytherin. I’m playing Potter and his precious Firebolt for the Quidditch Cup and this match is bloody important. I cannot afford to lose this one. The anticipation in my stomach has overwhelmed all of me and that is the only explanation I can find to explain why I’m awake right now (at 4 a.m.) when I should be sleeping.

But it happened again. This is getting old I think. Honestly, I should have better control over all this, but it’s for naught. My mind and I are not getting along as of late.

The dream was…. different…than the last two have been. I have the urge to go and shower right now to rid myself of the feeling it gives me, but I can’t do that…

I was in the change rooms next to the Quidditch pitch. I don’t know if I was really there, but I was seeing it anyway. Potter was alone inside. He was wearing his Quidditch uniform and his skin was glistening with sweat, I assume. I supposed he had just finish a game, or even practice. He turned around and cracked his back, stretching his arms and legs to loosen up.

Then he took off his shirt.

He pulled off the heavy jersey slowly, as though he knew I was watching, and threw it to the side. His chest was bare and perfect. His muscles were only mildly toned, but they were still obvious. He stood just like that, as though modeling for me or something. Then he started to undo his belt.

I felt my heart race and a hot flush washed over me, causing me to whimper inwardly (at least I hope it was inwardly). I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his body as he slowly lowered his trousers to stand before me in his boxers and nothing else. His eyes were bright and I could feel them bore into me as though calling to me.

I gasped and snapped out of my sleep. I was sweating and covered in… other fluids…. again…

GOD why does this keep happening?? What the hell is wrong with me?!

I can’t get back to sleep now and I’ve been fighting with my head for the past hour or so, trying to understand what these dreams are supposed to mean. Or at least, if they don’t mean anything, then WHY am I having them?!

I bit my lip hard, until I tasted blood and shut my eyes. I wouldn’t let myself give in to the confusion. It doesn’t matter.

None of it matters, it’s just another one of those stupid aspects of puberty.

It’s just your mind playing tricks on you. It’s just designed to make you go mad before you can reach adulthood. That’s all.

Nothing more.

You cannot give in to the insanity.

You are a Malfoy.

-----IIIII-----

A/N: Sooooooo Draco’s getting worse! His poor poor mind. The dreams are going to escalate far faster than his real actions to Harry are, mind you. I’m trying to space it out evenly so that it doesn’t happen too fast, but fast enough so that I’ve got time to work with ^^ Thanks for the lovely reviews and please keep them coming!

I’m really getting anxious with myself because it’s the 5th and 6th books I want to get to writing about… mostly the 6th actually (not because I like that book better, but because it gives me more leeway and I have many many terrible plans for it) I hope you are all enjoying reading this as much as I like writing it!