50 for d r a c o malfoy


Chiarsocuro;
an art characterized by strong contrasts between light and dark.

Themes:

1. Accio
2. Avada Kedavra
3. Braking Charm
4. Blasting Curse
5. Colloportus
6. Crucio
7. Confundus
8. Diffindo
9. Disapparate
10. Engorgio
11. Expecto Patronum
12. Furnunculus
13. Flagrate
14. Horn Tongue
15. Hurling Hex
16. Impedimenta
17. Imperio
18. Incarcerous
19. Jelly Legs
20. Knitting Charm
21. Langlock
22. Legilimens
23. Levicorpus
24. Lumos
25. Mobilicorpus
26. Morsmordre
27. Muffliato
28. Nox
29. Obliviate
30. Oppugno
31. Orchideous
32. Petrificus Totalus
33. Point Me
34. Protego
35. Quietus
36. Reducto
37. Relashio
38. Rictusempra
39. Sectumsempra
40. Sonorus
41. Scourgify
42. Silencio
43. SpeRevelio
44. Stupefy
45. Tarantallegra
46. Tergeo
47. Twitchy Ears Hex
48. Unbreakable Vow
49. Wingardium Leviosa
50. Waddiwasi

a c c i o
{ this thing between us is a rickety bridge of impossible crossing }

You can't fight fate - it's there, not acknowledged, but there. Like your hands or eyes. You don't think they are there, do you? But they are, and what would you do without them, and what do you do with them?

Draco Malfoy didn't know.

The hall stood in the darkness, little air, no light, all stiff and suffocating and unhelpful. His frame against the door did not have its usual pride, the straight back that told you how haughty, how perfectly arrogant, its owner could be. It seemed limp, almost afraid. He closed his eyes, the long eyelashes drooping in the absence of light [and only because he knew he couldn't be seen here. He'd never have let go of his defenses in front of anyone, not even his mother] and then, his slender fingers curled gently but expertly round his wand, he pointed it in thin air.

"Accio - accio Ginny's locket."

He didn't chide himself for stumbling over the words, for the knot in his stomach, or the lump in his throat. He only clasped his hand round the familiar golden ornament, and then let it drop to the floor.


Song credit: Set Fire to Flames. <3

a v a d a k e d a v r a
{ your guts are like mine }

Simple, it sounded absurdly simple. He had seen it cast, and his hands hadn't shook then like they did now, though his heart might have been the site of an earthquake. He thought of this, of all this, and then pushed it to the back of his mind, locking his thoughts up in some shadowy corner, like he had once - long, long ago - locked up his emotions.

"Draco."

He rose to his feet, eyes a steel-gray that might have been emotionless if it had not been so terribly, terribly cold. "Yes?" he asked briskly.

"It's -" She hesitated, eyes glaringly open but scared. Truly scared. "It's - aren't you -"

He raised an eyebrow.

"I'm scared," she finished simply.

She didn't have to ask, because he read the question in her eyes - aren't you scared? Scared? He had thought he had pushed past fright long ago, but he felt sick now, nauseated as he thought of the task ahead, as he felt his mind repeat the same spell, the same Killing Curse, over and over again. Scared? 'Scared' did not describe it.

He looked up at her and smirked.

"Then get out of here, Parkinson."


Song credit: Set Fire to Flames. <3

b r a k i n g c h a r m
{ small steps against inertia }

Everything he had, everything from his socks [plain white, no patterns] to his blonde hair [perfect in such a stereotypical manner that it stunned people] could only be described by one phrase: the best.

Potter's broom might be better than than the ones the rest of his team used, Lucius said, but Draco's broom could not be beaten. Draco's broom? The best.

"The most flawless," Lucius continued neatly, having swallowed the last bite of the Mexican dish on his gilded plate. "Immaculate. Everything Malfoy is the most flawless, the most immaculate. This broomstick, Draco, is the best available in the market at this moment. It has an unbreakable braking charm, and - you are not listening, boy!"

The son placed his spoon on the table, and looked up across the dining table. "I am, father," he said calmly. Calmly, but coldly.

Their gazes met - both perfectly calm, both perfectly cold, enemies for once united against a common foe - and neither broke the contact. Narcissa touched her husband's forearm.

"Everything Malfoy -" Lucius's gaze did not falter - "Is the best, the most flawless, the most immaculate."

"Indeed." Draco inclined his head. "Your reputation must be the only exception."


Song credit: Set Fire to Flames. <3

b l a s t i n g c u r s e
{ the only exception }

CRAAASH.

"He did it," six, little voices said simultaneously.

Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy exchanged glances that could have made the end of a dark, tired drama. He sat in an easy chair in her favourite garden, and she sat on his lap, had been half asleep until the said incident shook her awake.

"Honestly - never again - I don't see why those kids have to come here -" Narcissa did not sound happy.

"It's for Draco." Lucius's voice was smooth, but she could tell the unruliness of the children bothered him - Lucius had never been one for anything less than strict discipline, and he sneered as he reached Draco's room. "That child needs friends."

"They're brats. I don't see how Draco being a silent child makes him unstab -" She pushed open the door and stopped short, and both she and Lucius stared at the scene in front of them.

Six, small children sat in the middle of the room, having broken a shelf [all six covered in dust, as a result] and managed a Blasting Curse. Draco?

He sat in a far corner, perfectly neat, perfectly unruffled, arms crossed, and glaring scornfully at the other children.


Song credit: Paramore. <3

c o l l o p o r t u s
{ running in quicksand }

People talk too much, and often the ones that talk too much, are the ones that know little and even that, incorrectly. Being a death eater, Draco had realized, had none of the jazz, none of the mystique projected.

It was just another term for lifelong insomnia.

This, that, that, this. The spells rained down, almost literally. His profile threw one, sharp shadow on the wall, a shadow that had as much briskness, as much cold, cold preciseness as the person that cast it.

Col-lo-por-tus. The latest in the series of spells he had to practice. If things had been better, life easier, Draco might have pointed his throat at Dawlish's throat and told him to get out of the room, that he already knew that spell, child's play. But shadows seemed to accumulate in his already-saturated mind, and Draco felt like he had stepped into a black hole, that life had been torn apart.

So he did not point his throat at Dawlish, let alone that man's throat, and he did not tell him, coldly, that he had known that spell since the age of thirteen. Instead he nodded, made speech unnecessary.


Song credit: Megadeth. <3

c r u c i o
{ the marvellous engines of resistance}

It felt like fire, like a scorching, burning mass of fire, the anger he felt at how the man spoke of his mother. But he did not respond, not because it did not matter, but because not rising to petty baits came naturally to him.

He did not mind threats, like he did not mind his family [there, always there, important, but certainly not everything he had to focus on] and he did not mind death, like he did not mind his family [it could be thought of as painful, and it could be thought of as a relief] but he did mind letting people know that he had a breaking point.

So he held the man's gaze but did not speak, did not show any emotion, and eventually, the man that had a noticeable limp [the result of a curse Draco had directed at him] left him alone.

"You'll taste the Dark Lord's Cruciatus before long, traitor," the man said darkly, as he retreated into the shadows, and made for the exit. "It's reserved for filth like you, and it hurts, let me tell you that."

"You seem to speak from experience," Draco replied coldly.



Song credit: Esmerine. <3

d i f f i n d o
{ the land between solar systems }


In the distance, he saw her turn round, her brilliant red hair coming lose as her attacker's Diffindo hit her barrette and it clattered to the floor, snapped into two. The thought of what might have happened, had it been her and not the barrette that had taken the hit, sent no shiver running up his spine, did not cause his hands to shake, but it made his eyes still, a stillness that, for all of its chill, seemed to blaze.

He had never doubted her skills as a duelling artiste - she had never given him a chance to - and he did not doubt them now, as her attacker collapsed on the floor in a small, crumpled heap. But he found himself moving like he had never moved before, found himself standing in front of her, found himself acting - for once in his life - a shield.

"Don't." She sounded calm despite the din, the danger.

He picked up her barrette and pocketed it. "Get out of here. Now."

She looked at him, he looked back at her and for a moment, all seemed silent. Dead. Then she nodded, turned round, and he saw her red hair no more.



Song credit: Múm. <3 Yes, the band.

c o n f u n d u s
{ sow some lonesome corners
so many flowers bloom}

Despite being aware of how thick-headed Potter could be, it surprised Draco that the boy had not realized one of his potential keepers had been confunded.

So he shoved her.

Ginny turned around, eyes narrowed in her typical, one wrong move and you're dead manner. "Malfoy." She could make his surname sound like an insect's.

"Weasley." He could make hers sound like an insult.

She let the bag that had fallen on the floor [thank you indecent, shoving Malfoy] stay there. "Do you, or do you not, value that pretty face of yours?" She asked, in a tone that suggested she had just let him know that the sun looked gorgeous, today.

"Doesn't take much to make you admit it's pretty," Draco smirked, amused. "Don't fawn over me, sweetheart, I don't indulge blood-traitors."

"You sound so immature, Malfoy, you'd embarrass a two year old."

He crossed his arms. "Do you know your darling brother only made the team because his girlfriend confunded his strongest opponent?"

"Did I ever tell you that you sound so immature, it stuns me?"

That stung. Bloody heck, that stung a lot more than her previous comment.


Song credit: Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra. <3

d i s a p p a r a t e
{ sunshine recorder }

She stood in the garden, slabs of moonlight tilting through the short trees to crash over her, illuminating the red hair that spilled down her back, the simple but beautifully-cut golden dress that touched her dyed heels.

For a moment, he felt as near to breathless as a Malfoy possibly could, and then he smirked, the usual smirk, and stepped into the garden.

"Don't tell me you were trying to strike a pose," he said, taking her in his arms. "Trust me, it makes you look like Snape after a disapparition."

"I'd like to know, Draco Malfoy," she said, as she stood on the tips of her high heels to kiss him, one slender hand placed on his shoulder, one on the hand at her waist. "What hideous sin I unknowingly committed to have ended up as your girlfriend."

"I don't believe I've seen anyone more ungrateful about being allowed to date the richest, most handsome, most graceful and most eloquent bachelor in town," he replied, as he caught her in an embrace, and kissed her back.

"You're a conceited prat, do you know that?"

"Don't tell me you don't love it."


Song credit: Boards of Canada. <3

e n g o r g i o
{ magical romantic freestyle }

You're so stupid, Potter, Draco Malfoy thought lazily as he passed the Gryffindor after having turned in his Transfiguration OWL, that I bet your girlfriend finds it hard to distinguish between you and a pumpkin someone cast Engorgio on.

[Draco had the skill to be mean even in his thoughts. Brilliant stuff, no?]

You're so stupid, Malfoy, Harry thought fiercely as the Slytherin passed his seat [Could that idiot not look as tensed as he, Harry, did? This exam happened to be HARD] and 'accidentally' dropped an open inkpot next to his seat, that I bet your girlfriend finds it hard to distinguish between you and and a scarecrow.

They're both so stupid, Ginny thought as she stepped into the hall [Professor McGonagall has assigned her a task that required her there] and raised an eyebrow at the scene in front of her - Malfoy drawling that he had not meant to drop his inkpot, and that it was, in fact, an insult to his inkpot to have crashed right next to Potter's seat; and Harry waving his arms about and snapping angrily - that I bet their girlfriends find it impossible to distinguish them from each other.


Song credit: World's End Girlfriend. <3

e x p e c t o p a t r o n u m
{ six days at the bottom
of the ocean }

How could he fail at getting the hang of this spell? Draco's eyes, colder and more intent than usual, might have burned a hole right through the hole, could looks do so.

It angered him that he, fourteen years of age, had yet to master his patronus, angered him not because he doubted his own skills, but because Potter could do it, cast a corporeal patronus, and he, Draco, could only produce silver smoke - pretty to see, but useless in the face of danger and [far more importantly] useless in comparison to Potter's perfect stag.

Expecto Patronum, expecto patronum, expecto patronum. Smoke, silver smoke that almost reflected the aggravated colour in his eyes, the frustration in his heart. He tried again, and nothing happened, and he might have tried again [and received the same results] had the sound of footsteps not distracted him.

"That's not how you do it," Pansy simpered from behind. She sounded full of herself as usual, and it took a great deal of self-control for him, then, not to point his wand at her. "You don't look happy, Draco, and that is essen -"

"I didn't ask for you help, Parkinson."



Song credit: Explosions in the Sky. <3

f u r n u n c u l u s
{ bears see things pretty much
the way they are }

In all honesty, he had not sought that fight. Not that he saw Ron as a threat. That one came as stupid as people come. God knew how on earth his sister had turned out, like she had - and that, indeed, was the core of the problem.

That idiot's sister.

Stepping out of McGonagall's office, fifteen minutes after the fight, Draco contemplated that yes, his Furnunculus has landed Ronald into the hospital wing and yes, he had detention [thank you, McGonagall] but, in the end, none of this could be considered a huge - or even small - problem because the fact that the fool had been sent to the nurse meant one thing for certain: she'd come.

She did, too, the moment he had turned round a corner.

"You." She pointed her wand at his chest.

"What's the matter now, Redfreak? Can't get enough of me?"

Madame Pomfrey had to escort him to the hospital wing, ten minutes later, but Draco did not mind. He'd let her get him, and now he'd let her feel guilty [Noble, righteous Gryffindors. SO predictable, he thought to himself].

It'd all work in his favour, he knew.


Song credit: Don Caballero. <3

f l a g r a t e
{ give me shadow }

He hadn't expected to get caught - not, at least, before he reached the common room. There, he could handle things. None of the other Slytherins, Draco knew, could even think of telling on him. Slytherins, they stuck together. Union, for them, did not exist out of love, but out of the knowledge that it helped ensure they reign supreme.

But, point is, he had been caught. Caught by none other than Mrs. Norris. Her eyes gleamed at him from behind the enchanted suit of armour [asleep. Draco had made sure of that because this particular suit of armour could make more noise than a house-elf that had just been freed. He had marked it using Flagrate this evening.] and then she opened her mouth to meoooow, and he was suddenly aware of what this meant - Filch. He'd be here, and his perfect plan, ruined.

"Oh no, you don't."

Mrs. Norris's eyes widened, but his strong, gloved hand had been placed on her mouth before she could call her caretaker. The cat attempted to bite him, but Draco shouldered and carried her off, letting go of her only after he had stepped into the common room.


Song credit: World's End Girlfriend. <3

h o r n t o n g u e
{ the flames beyond the
cold mountain }

"Pregnant women scare me."

He had intended it to be a joke, to be honest he had. But then, as she'd put it later, he did not know how it felt to be one ["I'd rather be one, than be around one," he'd retort, and she'd glare daggers at him] and so, unfortunately, he did not know to expect the hexing that had followed.

Hexing that resulted in Draco possessing a horn for a tongue, and his wife standing in front of him in the garden, the wind fiercely whipping her red hair into her eyes, and the said eyes glaaaaaaring at him like he had dared to do the most offensive thing on Planet Earth.

"Gwin - Dwin -" He couldn't speak, not as long as he had a horn for a tongue, he realized and, giving a broad-shouldered shrug, Draco Malfoy set his poor tongue right. "See why pregnant women scare me now?" He asked, crossing his arms and looking like a kitten that had been denied a meal.

If he expected her to be all 'aww,' he couldn't have been more mistaken. Ginny Malfoy punched him in the face, and stalked off.


Song credit: Mono. <3

h u r l i n g h e x
{ at the end of its
burning cycle}

It seemed to Narcissa as if her son had mastered a hurling hex, given the speed at which he had, for the past ten minutes, been hurling any and all objects he could grab.

"No, no, stop. STOP, Draco -"

Her son, seven years of age, furious at having been told he could not go to his friend's house to spend the night, and often a spoiled brat [he'd mature later. Mature to the point where she'd realize he didn't need things - anything - anymore, pray for him to turn into the spoiled kid he'd once been] picked up another huge decoration piece and, certain that he could lift it easily, SMAAASHED it into the wall.

Narcissa sighed. Even at this age, Draco was the type that did not physically express anger but, once in a while, he lost all control and then she could barely go near him, let alone get him to stop. For a moment, she thought of calling Lucius. Then she thought of their relationship, son and father's, strained and unhappy already, and decided against it.

"DRACO MALFOY. Stop doing that this instant!"

The boy did not even glance at his mother.


Song credit: 65daysofstatic. <3

i m p e r i o
{ small boats of fire are
falling from the sky}

He knew how the Cruciatus Curse felt, and he still preferred it to the Imperius, to the sensation of being controlled.

The grasshopper in front of him twitched, and then jumped to its tiny feet. Draco lowered his wand, his lips pressed together, thin, almost a hard line, cold and blue and almost afraid, and the grasshopper, released from his control, hopped off looking [Draco thought or imagined, call it whatever you like] a little dazed.

"I see you've mastered it."

The voice was Blaise's, sleek and calculated and detached and indifferent, and a dozen other things that symbolized Draco, and made Blaise. He might have been commenting on the day's weather, Blaise. The dark young man sat down next to Draco and, for a moment, both were silent, both understanding each other completely, and both not needing to say it - they never had needed to say it - as the grasshopper disappeared out of sight.

Then Draco rose to his feet. "Let's go get something to eat," he said quietly.

They left, profiles tall against the sunlight, and Draco had no time to contemplate, like he so often did, that life goes on, must go on.


Song credit: Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra. <3

i m p e d i m e n t a
{ tiny silver hammers }

Frankly, Draco found the pretense fun. It gave him a chance to punch Harry and, more importantly, right in front of Hermione. Of course, not that he wanted to see either hurt, but the murderous look [even if fake] in the bespectacled boy's eyes and the cold fury [an 'UGH! You two are stupid!' kind of fury] in hers, made him laugh.

"Get off the pitch, Malfoy." Harry sounded furious. "It's Gryffindor's turn, this time." He took a step towards Draco as he said this, hand not curled into a fist [unlike Draco's] but eyes full of fire. "My team has had enough of your stupidity." He took another step, but this time he looked a liiittle nervous. Draco had punched him hard last time, and Hermione had been furious.

"Impedimenta!" Draco's wand moved faster than a snitch.



"You two shouldn't hit each other so hard, for Merlin's sake." Hermione sat, eyes furious and concerned, on the edge of Draco's bed, right next to Harry's in the hospital wing, and a book lay open in her lap. "Your little dramas are starting to get boring."

"Look who's talking," Draco smirked.


Song credit: Godspeed You! Black Emperor. <3

i n c a r c e r o u s
{ yesterday's light circus }

He'd done it quite expertly, tying up Aszuka. Draco looked quite smug at his achievement and, eyes gleaaaming happily, he reached out and petted the top of Asazuka's head.

"Now you stay here. I'll be right back."

Asazuka growwwled. How dare the little midget, barely eleven years of age, tie HIM up? Him, the great Asazuka, a whole two years older than that blond dwarf?

If Asazuka had known better, he'd have seen this coming, known before he stepped into the Malfoy Manor that Draco Malfoy was not the kind of kid you could try to bully. But unfortunately for the thirteen-year old, a distant cousin of the Zabinis who'd come to stay with them [and tried his best to bully Blaise but, after Blaise had kicked him haaard in an unmentionable place, decided to go bully the Malfoy kid next door] he hadn't known, and was now tied to a chair in Draco's room.

"COME BACK AND UNTIE ME!" He shouted.

Draco did come back. Come back with a tray full of delicious food which, once he'd sat down in front of the tied up Asazuka, he began to enjooooy.


Song credit: World's End Girlfriend. <3

j e l l y l e g s
{ alone and unaware, the landscape
was transformed }

I've taken too much of the potion, Draco thought sourly, as he sat on the edge of his bed in the dark, almost damp boys' dormitory.

He shifted his leg, feeling it go numb, like someone had cast a Jelly Legs Hex on it. He despised the sensation and it frustrated him, because the potion had been supposed to make him feel energetic. Good. Good like he had not felt in a long, long time; not since he'd looked into those red eyes for the first time; not since the mark had been burned onto his forearm; not since he'd received the burden of having to take a life for the safety of the people he cared for.

"Malfoy."

Blaise's rough voice interrupted his thoughts. Draco looked up. "Zabini?" He sounded curt, but God knew he didn't mean to.

"Did you take the potion?" Blaise had stood up.

"Yes. Go to sleep." He rolled over, almost mutinously, and did not speak again. He could feel Blaise's gaze on him, feel it on his back for a long time, and then the sensation left, and Blaise climbed back into his bed.

Draco bit his lip, miserable.


Song credit: Red Sparowes. <3

k n i t t i n g c h a r m
{ all is violent, all is bright }

"Mother."

Narcissa Malfoy, elegance personified, took her time to look up at her only son, tall and handsome and graceful as she had hoped he'd be, but also sarcastic and secretive to the point that he made her almost curse under her breath. She set down her quilt, the knitting needles that she had charmed resting in midair and then said,

"Yes?"

He smirked.

She lost her cool. "Draco Malfoy! If you do not behave around me, I am going to -"

"Mother." He sounded like someone speaking to a little child, and that infuriated her even further, but she forced herself to relax, to take it all in her stride. "I'm not ten anymore. I'm twenty six." He paused, as if himself mildly surprised by the declaration, and then said, "There's something I need to... let you know." His eyes glinted, almost amused, and her hand tightened - inadvertently - around a knitting needle.

"Go on," she said coolly.

"I'm going to marry." He said it calmly, lazily, almost offhandedly. "Thought you should know."

"I will kill you, Draco."

"Glad to see you're so hyped up about it. That's why I love you so much."


Song credit: GIAA.

l a n g l o c k
{ happiest days to dust }

Draco Malfoy knew himself to be perfect. Six feet of pure hotness, he had no doubt of that. He could bet the Malfoy Manor that he had no physical imperfection, not one. So of course, he expected to have a torrent of fangirls and autograph crazies.

But that new girl... annoyed him.

She had short hair. Like, reaaaally short hair. Fluffy, little blonde curls that she told everyone looked like Draco's. [Curls? He did not have curls! This girl had to be mental. MENTAL.] She'd seen him the day she had arrived at Hogwarts, a transfer from Beauxbatons that had stirred up a lot of interest, and from that time onwards, she had not stopped stalking him. She even dressed in black.

Stupid girl.

"If you do not stop following me," Draco drawled, as he rightly came to the conclusion that the footsteps behind him could belong to none other than her. "I'm going to hex you into next week."

"But Draco!" She batted her eyelashes and almost simpered [he took a step back in alarm.] "Can't you zee? It iz fate that haz landed me here! It iz clear we are meant to be."

"Langlock."


Song credit: Red Sparowes. <3

l e g i l i m e n s
{ i can't feel my hand
anymore }

He had never had to fear theft of secrets, of his dreams and emotions before. It felt frustrating, frustrating in a manner that liked to rob him of his cool and calm.

How do you protect yourself from theft of the mind? Draco had never had to ask himself the question before. He'd known Voldemort had returned, and the news had meant darkness, but then darkness, he knew. Had lived in and lived by. It was part of his life and family and, most reassuringly or perhaps strangely, part of himself. He hadn't thought of the future, not when he had first heard the news.

But now?

He did not - could not - think of much else, if anything else. He had no choice but to face him, Voldemort, and no choice but to let himself - all of his secrets, all of his thoughts, anything and everything he desired, feared, loved, hated, thought or dreamed of - be revealed to another man, a stranger. Someone so skilled at legilimency, it made Draco want to kill him.

"Draco. I need to talk to you."

Snape had a solution. Snape said he had a solution. Draco did not believe him. Not yet.


Song credit: Múm. <3

m o b i l i c o r p u s
{ an eagle in your mind }

He had had that desire to be stronger, stronger than anyone, since he had first heard of strength. Physical, emotional and magical strength. Life, of course, loves to dispose our proposals, and Draco?

Narcissa, a slender, lily-like hand placed reflectively under her chin, eyes thoughtful as she stared into the depths of the orange-reddish flames that made no noise as they burned in the fireplace, thought that fate, if it had ever been cruel to anyone, had been cruel to her son. Physical strength? He had, but it never satisfied him, only made him more colder, more detached. Emotional strength? That had gone wrong, surely. He didn't control his emotions - he converted almost each of them, almost each, into a thick veil of indifference, of icy coldness that disturbed even her, her so used to Lucius's detached manner.

Magical strength? She lowered her hand and half turned around to look at the fifteen year old seated in a corner of the giant room, head bent over a book that she knew contained every kind of spell under the sun, some of them as different from each other as the simple Mobilicorpus from the killing Avada Kedavra.


Song credit: Boards of Canada. <3

l e v i c o r p u s
{ our last days as children }

He shouldn't have picked a fight with Draco and Blaise. If the fourth year that stood in front of them now - not willingly, no, but tied to a tree - had known new first years could be this evil and Slytherin-ish right from the start, he'd have - being a typical bully, the kind that can only scare people that can't stand for themselves, and is awfully easy to frighten if you have some guts - stayed away for good.

But ignorance isn't bliss every time, and as the older Slytherin struggled to get free of the ropes binding him - a specialty of little Draco's - the look on his face almost matched the look that Severus Snape had sported the time the Marauders had cast Levicorpus on him in front of Lily Evans; only Snape had looked just furious, and this boy looked furious and frightened. He struggled again and, realizing this to be of no use, shook a fist at Draco and Blaise.

"You two just wait," he threatened. "Till the Headmaster hears about this."

Draco and Blaise exchanged an amused look.

"Let's leave him here for someone to find," Draco suggested.

Blaise grinned. "Sure."


Song credit: Explosions in the Sky. <3