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Old November 7th, 2009, 6:07 am
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Join Date: 27th November 2005
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Re: Temporary Last Author Standing Entries Thread

LAST AUTHOR STANDING

Topic: What Malfoy thought when he was slapped by Hermione

Entry #3


What Malfoy thought when he was slapped by Hermione

Dew stood neatly upon the irregular rocks that protruded sporadically along the path leading down from the castle. Patches of fog lingered just above the ground on the cool morning as a group of students made their way down the path toward the edge of the forest. Smoke rose from a thatched hut near the end of the path, and the air reeked of wood too green to be burned.

“I still cannot believe that I have to take a class from this oaf”, Draco muttered with a sneer as he made his way down the path and gesturing with his head toward a large shadowed figure just beyond the end of the path where the other students had started to collect. A thick clumsy looking boy behind Draco grunted in agreement in a slight delayed reaction as the group reached the end of the path and intermixed with those who had already arrived.

“Welcome to Care of Magical Creatures Class,” cracked the weepy voice of the shadowed in an almost disinterested manner, obviously trying desperately to hold back a breakdown of tears, “today, we are studying flobberworms.”

Draco laughed as he made his way to the back of the group several other Slytherins, close behind. “Once that joke of a bird is gone, I’m sure the Oaf will be next on my father’s list,” Draco boasted while the others joined in his laughter as he slithered up through the group of students, making similar comments.

Draco stopped in his tracks, the grin on his face growing to enormous proportions, there in front of him stood Potter, the pathetic ginger haired Weasley boy, and the mudblood. The mudblood’s hair was only about a foot in front of him; he could smell her perfume, and it made him sick.

“Hagrid, maybe Dumbledore can do something,” Hermione said in a comforting voice.

“No,” Hagrid said, fighting back tears as he moved amongst the students inspecting their flobberworms, “Dumbldore has already done enough.”

“Hermione, I’m sure Dumbledore will think of something,” the ginger haired boy added, trying to locate flobberworms in furry book while it growled and wiggled in an uncooperative manner.

“Ronald, you seriously need to learn how to handle that book. After all, it is just a book,” Hermione noted as she opened her identical, better behaved book that cooed as she opened it. Harry and Ron exchanged bemused glances as they prodded the flobberworms with their wands.

The sound of weeping began to grow louder again. Hermione looked up from her lifeless flobberworm, searching the near area to see if Hagrid had worked his way back to them already. Hagrid was standing over several unenthusiastic Gryffindors on the opposite side of the group, looking dismal. The weeping was getting louder and more pronounced, but she quickly realized that it was coming from behind her. She turned around to investigate.

“My poor bird, oh my poor bird, whatever am I going to do without him,” Draco mocked, pretending to wipe his eyes on Crabbe’s robes, “Boo, hoo, hoo.” Hermione’s face went blank as Harry and Ron turned around to join Hermione.

“I’m just a brainless oaf, and I can’t live without my bird,” Draco continued, rubbing his eyes and sniffling.

Without warning and before he could react, searing hot pain flashed across his cheek. The side of his face felt like it was on fire. What happened? Draco asked himself blinking in shock as he came to realize what had happened.

“How dare that mudblood lay a hand on me,” Draco thought to himself. His hand immediately shot for his wand, and then faltered. He couldn’t show anyone that a mudblood had unsettled him. His father would disown him. He would become the laughing stock of his fellow classmates. No, he had to play this just right. He had to give the impression that he was the one in control of the situation. That is what his father would do. That is what his father would want. That is what he must do.

He had to act quickly and decisively. He had to keep the witnesses down, but he had to maintain some control of the situation. Being a Slytherin depended on it.

He couldn’t let his father know about this, though. He would certainly be laughed at or even punished for letting the mudblood touch him. His father and his father’s friends would ridicule him for years. He could never live this down if they found out. He noticed that several more Gryffindors and Slytherins had turned toward them. He had to act quickly and he had to get out of the situation. He tried to collect his rambling thoughts as he stared at Hermione.

Her face had changed yet again. This time it was filled with resentment and anger. He knew that if he pushed her she would strike again. Given how many eyes were now focused on him, would certainly not be an easy situation to recover from. He had to choose his words carefully, both to protect his image and not solicit another strike.

“Just wait until my father hears about this, mudblood,” Draco said in a disgusted voice, slowly backing away, and then almost bolting up the path, nearly slipping on the wet path.

“Any mention of this to anyone,” Draco threatened those Slytherins who had accompanied him up the path, “and you and your family will be sorry.”


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