Reviews: 4 | Table of Contents | - Text Size +
Bending The Bars
By Giuevra M W Malfoy
One
Ginevra M. Weasley
A/N: Catchy chap title, ‘eh, folks? LOL! Well, anyways, I’d like to thank and give credit to the following people. They’ve helped me with and given me several ideas for this fic. So thank you ever so much over at www.harrypotterfanfiction.com:
Synthetic_X
BitterEpiphany
LilCc
Shakira
Anna
^___^
Now, on with the fic! (God, I hope I kept the characters I.C…*prays*)
**********************************************************
**********************************************************
September 1st, 1997
Dear Diary,
My uncle James was never around much. He was usually too busy raiding and investigating former Death Eater’s homes and stuff like that, he was a top-rank Auror dedicated to his job. He wasn’t around when I or my brothers were born, save for an hour or so when Charlie came, when I or my brothers learned to fly, or at any of our Quidditch games. He wasn’t there when I and Ron went to Hogwarts, and eventually found no time for Percy or the twins once he married and my cousins came around, or at any of our birthdays or Christmases.
One time, he was going to visit us, but mum and dad wouldn’t let him. I’m not sure they really liked him all that much anymore – after all, he’d been school mates with Lucius Malfoy, someone we all hate. That was last month, and his last chance.
Front page headline: AUROR JAMES M. WEASLEY AND FAMILY FOUND DEAD IN SCOTLAND HOME. He was all anybody talked about for three and a half solid weeks.
It just wasn’t fair! From the way mum, dad, Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George talked about him, he sounded like a really fun guy – almost like a mixture of Bill and Fred and George. I’d never once seen him, and now I never will. I hate my parents for that, absolutely hate them.
Nor was it fair that Malfoy sold him out! They’d been best mates in school and, for James, beyond, and it was only because he’d married Aunt Nadia, a muggleborn, and fathered three halfbloods that Lucius helped kill him. James was rich, pureblood, and respectable in anybody’s terms – he died because of some stupid racist blood issue! Those Malfoys are absolutely horrible!
Of course, Lucius’s wife, Narcissa, and son, Draco (Seventh Year Slytherin Prefect) have bribed the ministry generously, so they decided to trial over whether Malfoy had been under an Imperius Curse or not. You know, had I been half as rich as the Malfoys, I would have spent every last galleon getting the three of them life sentences in Azkaban.
My family and I hate the Malfoys, end-of-discussion, period. They’re pureblood witches and wizards like us, but, unlike us, to them, that matters. They hate anyone who isn’t pureblood, or doesn’t agree with them and Voldemort when it comes to the extermination of all non-purebloods. They’re a threesome of blonde-haired, blue-eyed, pale, pointy-nosed, arrogant, stuck-up…er…for lack of a better word, gits (My mum and dad don’t allow me to curse)
We don’t care we’re purebloods, though. I could be a muggleborn and think no less of myself, same goes for the others. We could be halfbloods or squibs. We’d be fine being anyone, actually, just as we weren’t them, anyone but them.
Who am ‘I’, you ask? My name is Ginevra Molly Weasley, but most call me ‘Ginny’. I hate my name. I have six brothers (well, five now, actually, since Percy died back in Fifth Year), a mum, and a dad. My hair is long, a bright, fiery, vivid red like the rest of my family, but my eyes, however, are different from the others’. My mum, Molly, my dad, Arthur, and my brothers, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, and Ron, all have bright blue eyes. Mine are a bright brown, from James and my grandmother Daniella. My skin is light and freckly.
I’m a pureblood witch and attend Great Britain’s Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I’m a 7th Year Gryffindor this year, since I got my O.W.L.s results mixed up with my (ex) best friend’s and moved up a year by mistake. She hates me for it, being stuck in 6th while I get to graduate a year early instead of her.
My brother Ron’s a 7th year Gryffindor, too, along with his friends, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger (she’s also Ron’s girlfriend as of last year); all my other brothers have already graduated.
I don’t really have any close, best friends, but I do spend a lot of time with a Ravenclaw girl, Luna Lovegood (even though, most of the time, she’s a bit out-to-lunch) and have had my share of boyfriends and crushes (none that have worked out, unfortunately). But I think I like it this way. I once had a friend in my First Year at Hogwarts and he wasn’t at all who I thought he was. Since then, I’ve been pretty cautious about trusting people.
“Gin’, it’s time to go.”
I then shut my new leather diary and picked it up from the table, along with my instant-ink quill and bag. Looking across the Diagon Alley ice cream parlor, I spotted my older brother Ron, standing by the door.
“C’mon, Gin’, we’re going to be late for school!” He says.
Ron’s Head Boy at Hogwarts this year. He’s ecstatic, not only because he’s following in our oldest and favorite brother Bill’s footsteps, but also because he’s going to get to share a room and three hours alone each night with his girlfriend (and future wife, as he told me back at the Burrow), Hermione Jane Granger, who is Head Girl. Their best friend, Harry Potter, is a little jealous of him, but has his Seeker position back and had made Gryffindor Quidditch captain the previous year, so he’s pretty much satisfied. I really don’t think he could handle all three responsibilities, anyway, to his team, to the school, and to the world.
“Coming!” I said loudly. I pushed in the fancy French chair and headed over to my family, the rest waiting for me outside, save for my late older brother, Percy.
My mother, Molly, is rather short and round, shorter than even Ron (when he was twelve). She would be quick to disapprove of any misbehavior of any sort as fast as lightning, often having to keep my twin brothers, Fred and George, and my dad in line, as well as, when they were younger, Bill and Charlie. She’s a pretty good cook, but is a little overprotective of me. (That’s why I haven’t told her I’ve gone out with anyone yet, and dread the day when Ron tells her.)
My dad, Arthur, works for the Ministry of Magic, in the Department of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. He’s tall, kinda’ thin, wears glasses, and is balding (but don’t tell him that…). He has a bit of an obsession with muggle items. Once a prankster back when he was at Hogwarts, he’s fun to be around, lets us get away with pretty much anything, and is the exact opposite of mum personality-wise. And now that he’s getting a lot better pay, since Bill became the Minister of Magic about a month or so after Percy died in a battle with Voldemort, sacrificing himself for me and Ron, I and my family are a lot better off than we were before.
My favorite and oldest brother, Bill, is undoubtedly the tallest of us. He’s his father’s son, funloving, easygoing, and was quite the troublemaker in his days at Hogwarts, as well as Gryffindor Beater, Head Boy, Prefect, and the most popular boy in school. Bill likes to dress muggle-style. He often wears a black leather jacket, a white t-shirt, jeans, and boots, only they were made out of dragon hide. He has a really neat fang earring in one ear, and his hair is a bright red like all his siblings’ and other family’s, though undoubtedly much longer than any of ours, except for maybe James’s – that’s who he got his style from. It’s grown out and tied back into a ponytail.
Next is Charlie. He’s very similar to Bill, very easygoing, very outgoing, popular, Prefect, and Quidditch captain. He was Seeker, though – one of the best. He won the Quidditch cup for Gryffindor six years straight. His hair is rather short, and he’s also got more freckles than Ron, me, and the twins combined – it almost looks like he has a tan. He’s also somewhat shorter than Percy, Bill, or Ron – he’s more like me, mum, and the twins, short and stocky. His arms are often burned and his hands rough, because he works with dragons in Romania.
My twin brothers Fred and George (who would be my favorites if it weren’t for Bill) are now nineteen years old and working at a joke shop in Diagon Alley, since both had been major pranksters back in their not-too-long-ago school days, as well as the Gryffindor team Beaters, some of the best. Both are rather short and stocky, as aforementioned, and they take after Bill and dad personality-wise. They’d also taught me to believe that anything was possible if you had enough nerve.
My older brother, Ron – the youngest of my brothers – is tall, gangly, and freckly like Bill, Percy, and dad. He’s Keeper for Gryffindor (not very good, but a little better than he was in my Fourth Year, anyways), and quite tactless when it comes to girls, but has still managed to land Hermione after two years of crushing on her. Now they’re inseparable. He’s a star chess player, and taught me to be, as well.
“Hey, Ron, where’re the others?” I asked.
“Oh, they’re coming with Professor Lupin and Tonks to the platform-”
“Professor? Ron, he's not a-” I gasped, “Ron, REALLY?”
“Bill’s Minister, Dumbledore’s Headmaster, and with Fudge gone, who’s to stop him?” said George.
“Malfoy’s dad…” I muttered.
“But the lousy git’s in-”
“He’s not in Azkaban anymore, remember?”
“Oh, then that could be a problem…”
“Yeah, it could.”
I looked around me. Hannah Abbott stands outside the doors of Flourish and Blotts with a similar-looking woman, who is holding in her arms a blonde-haired boy no older than three or four. Dean Thomas is sitting alone in between the owl emporium and apothecary, and Draco Malfoy, looking both bored and annoyed, was leaning against the dusty window of Ollivander’s.
When he saw a tall, blonde-haired girl approach the door, however, he then quickly apparated on the spot with a whip-crack.
The blonde rushed out of Ollivander’s and screeched angrily, “Draco, you little ingrate, where do you think you’re going!”
“Who’s she?” asked Ron, looking back.
I shrugged, “Never seen her before.”
***
With five minutes to spare, I, Ron, Fred, George, and Bill (who is temporarily moved into the Burrow again) arrive at Platform 9 ¾. Charlie wasn’t able to make it, unfortunately – he’s still stuck in Romania. Ron and I board the train, say goodbye to our brothers and parents, and when the train starts moving, we go looking for Harry, Hermione, and Mark.
Finding them in the usual compartment, I sit down next to Hermione, Harry moving next to Mark to allow Ron to sit on the opposite side of me.
Mark McClaggan is the new member of the former trio. He has short, slightly spiky golden-brown hair, chocolate brown eyes, and has much darker skin than any of us. He’s really cool, and a total girl magnet, as well as a Seventh Year Gryffindor, Gryffindor Chaser (Considering he’s only known he was a wizard since last summer, he’s actually pretty good)…and the Half-Blood Prince, the one destined to stand alongside Harry in the final battle against Voldemort. His mum didn’t want him having to live up to that responsibility, to possibly die during the battle, so that’s why she and Mark lived as muggles before my Fifth Year.
Ron quickly launches a conversation about Quidditch, and I smiled, completely content and comfortable. These are the four people I feel happiest around. My brother, while a little (okay, okay, ridiculously) overprotective when it comes to me and boys, is really funny sometimes.
I’m closest to Hermione, though. I can tell her things I wouldn’t dare mention to Ron, Harry, or Mark, and not just because they’re boys. She and Luna are my only real friends; Ron and Mark are more Harry’s than mine.
Two tall blondes, each looking strikingly like Malfoy, peered into our compartment door, took one look at the lot of us, and left, looking repulsed and shaking their heads. The slightly shorter, blue-eyed girl muttered, “What a world…”, while the brown-eyed girl I could have sworn was the one I’d seen in Diagon Alley earlier.
()()()()()()
()()()()()()
“You held out your hand to a halfbreed, Draco? You’re even more of a disgrace than I thought.” One of the twins sneered, as they, Pansy, and Malfoy stepped off the train.
“Potter is a pureblood name, Araillya!”
“That makes no difference whatsoever when it’s attached to filth like him! He nearly destroyed our Lord, or did you happen to very conveniently forget!”
“He’s done it four times now!” said the shorter, blue-eyed girl, outraged, “He’s a Gryffindor, Dumbledore’s favorite, has blood traitors like the Weasleys for friends-”
“Not to mention that mudblood Granger and that saint halfbreed McClaggan,” sniffed Araillya.
“Right. Exactly right,” said her twin, “Potter had a mudblood mother and a blood traitor for a father! Members of the resistance! Potter hung around with Black and that halfbreed Lupin, and this is his son, no doubt the same! And let’s not forget, Draco, he went out with that halfbreed Chang two years ago! That trash, worthy of a Malfoy’s time? Of a Malfoy’s acceptance and friendship? You’re crazy, Draco. Absolutely barking mad.”
Ron, Hermione, Mark, Harry, and I were absolutely seething. How dare she insult Harry and Remus like that!
“C’mon, let’s just go. Ignore them,” I muttered.
The boys, apparently, found this very hard to do, but Hermione said, “Ron, Ginny’s right, they’re not worth it,” and that was more than enough for Ron.
Well, almost enough.
“But they called you a – a – they called you the ‘M’ word! And you expect me to let them just get away with that? You’re mad, ‘Mione, bloody mad!”
His wand was halfway into the air when one of them called, “Oh, look, there they are now!”
I frowned, but it was wiped clean off my face when Araillya and her twin walked away, calling, “Run along now, little cousin, go play with your friends!”
Draco scowled, “And I’ll be sure to inform Longbottom that you’re here! He’ll be ever so happy to see you again, won’t he?”
Araillya’s twin laughed, “Longbottom? Here at Hogwarts? Oh dear me, this will be an even better year than I thought,” as she and her sister boarded the second to last carriage, and it took off towards the castle.
Now, call me naïve, but I was under the impression that your family normally likes you, and that you normally like them. Love them. It would make sense that Malfoy would like them, would think them worthy of his time, but they seemed to loathe each other’s guts. Odd…very odd…
Hermione, Ron, Mark, Harry, and I got on the last carriage, and Malfoy started walking. He’d not be caught dead sitting next to any of us, and that seemed to go over just fine with Ron, who slammed the door shut.
Seeing him walking alone through the drizzle, soon to be pouring rain and lightning…well…I almost felt sorry for him. I mean, his own family hated him. I almost threw open the door and invited him in, but I held back. Stupid bloody conscience.
Rain started to beat against the windows of the carriage, and through that and the darkness, Malfoy soon became invisible. I told myself to be glad. I shouldn’t even be looking for him, anyway. He’s a stuck-up pureblood snob, a Slytherin, a Malfoy. And maybe I’d feel sorry for him if he had ignored us, but he called us blood traitors, disgraces to the wizarding world, and Hermione a mudblood. He supported Voldemort, anyway, and no one who supported him, no one who supported Lucius Malfoy, deserved to be pitied.
Reminding myself of everything that had happened these past years between us and him, at that moment, my pity and sympathy for him vanished completely.
By Giuevra M W Malfoy
One
Ginevra M. Weasley
A/N: Catchy chap title, ‘eh, folks? LOL! Well, anyways, I’d like to thank and give credit to the following people. They’ve helped me with and given me several ideas for this fic. So thank you ever so much over at www.harrypotterfanfiction.com:
Synthetic_X
BitterEpiphany
LilCc
Shakira
Anna
^___^
Now, on with the fic! (God, I hope I kept the characters I.C…*prays*)
**********************************************************
**********************************************************
September 1st, 1997
Dear Diary,
My uncle James was never around much. He was usually too busy raiding and investigating former Death Eater’s homes and stuff like that, he was a top-rank Auror dedicated to his job. He wasn’t around when I or my brothers were born, save for an hour or so when Charlie came, when I or my brothers learned to fly, or at any of our Quidditch games. He wasn’t there when I and Ron went to Hogwarts, and eventually found no time for Percy or the twins once he married and my cousins came around, or at any of our birthdays or Christmases.
One time, he was going to visit us, but mum and dad wouldn’t let him. I’m not sure they really liked him all that much anymore – after all, he’d been school mates with Lucius Malfoy, someone we all hate. That was last month, and his last chance.
Front page headline: AUROR JAMES M. WEASLEY AND FAMILY FOUND DEAD IN SCOTLAND HOME. He was all anybody talked about for three and a half solid weeks.
It just wasn’t fair! From the way mum, dad, Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George talked about him, he sounded like a really fun guy – almost like a mixture of Bill and Fred and George. I’d never once seen him, and now I never will. I hate my parents for that, absolutely hate them.
Nor was it fair that Malfoy sold him out! They’d been best mates in school and, for James, beyond, and it was only because he’d married Aunt Nadia, a muggleborn, and fathered three halfbloods that Lucius helped kill him. James was rich, pureblood, and respectable in anybody’s terms – he died because of some stupid racist blood issue! Those Malfoys are absolutely horrible!
Of course, Lucius’s wife, Narcissa, and son, Draco (Seventh Year Slytherin Prefect) have bribed the ministry generously, so they decided to trial over whether Malfoy had been under an Imperius Curse or not. You know, had I been half as rich as the Malfoys, I would have spent every last galleon getting the three of them life sentences in Azkaban.
My family and I hate the Malfoys, end-of-discussion, period. They’re pureblood witches and wizards like us, but, unlike us, to them, that matters. They hate anyone who isn’t pureblood, or doesn’t agree with them and Voldemort when it comes to the extermination of all non-purebloods. They’re a threesome of blonde-haired, blue-eyed, pale, pointy-nosed, arrogant, stuck-up…er…for lack of a better word, gits (My mum and dad don’t allow me to curse)
We don’t care we’re purebloods, though. I could be a muggleborn and think no less of myself, same goes for the others. We could be halfbloods or squibs. We’d be fine being anyone, actually, just as we weren’t them, anyone but them.
Who am ‘I’, you ask? My name is Ginevra Molly Weasley, but most call me ‘Ginny’. I hate my name. I have six brothers (well, five now, actually, since Percy died back in Fifth Year), a mum, and a dad. My hair is long, a bright, fiery, vivid red like the rest of my family, but my eyes, however, are different from the others’. My mum, Molly, my dad, Arthur, and my brothers, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, and Ron, all have bright blue eyes. Mine are a bright brown, from James and my grandmother Daniella. My skin is light and freckly.
I’m a pureblood witch and attend Great Britain’s Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I’m a 7th Year Gryffindor this year, since I got my O.W.L.s results mixed up with my (ex) best friend’s and moved up a year by mistake. She hates me for it, being stuck in 6th while I get to graduate a year early instead of her.
My brother Ron’s a 7th year Gryffindor, too, along with his friends, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger (she’s also Ron’s girlfriend as of last year); all my other brothers have already graduated.
I don’t really have any close, best friends, but I do spend a lot of time with a Ravenclaw girl, Luna Lovegood (even though, most of the time, she’s a bit out-to-lunch) and have had my share of boyfriends and crushes (none that have worked out, unfortunately). But I think I like it this way. I once had a friend in my First Year at Hogwarts and he wasn’t at all who I thought he was. Since then, I’ve been pretty cautious about trusting people.
“Gin’, it’s time to go.”
I then shut my new leather diary and picked it up from the table, along with my instant-ink quill and bag. Looking across the Diagon Alley ice cream parlor, I spotted my older brother Ron, standing by the door.
“C’mon, Gin’, we’re going to be late for school!” He says.
Ron’s Head Boy at Hogwarts this year. He’s ecstatic, not only because he’s following in our oldest and favorite brother Bill’s footsteps, but also because he’s going to get to share a room and three hours alone each night with his girlfriend (and future wife, as he told me back at the Burrow), Hermione Jane Granger, who is Head Girl. Their best friend, Harry Potter, is a little jealous of him, but has his Seeker position back and had made Gryffindor Quidditch captain the previous year, so he’s pretty much satisfied. I really don’t think he could handle all three responsibilities, anyway, to his team, to the school, and to the world.
“Coming!” I said loudly. I pushed in the fancy French chair and headed over to my family, the rest waiting for me outside, save for my late older brother, Percy.
My mother, Molly, is rather short and round, shorter than even Ron (when he was twelve). She would be quick to disapprove of any misbehavior of any sort as fast as lightning, often having to keep my twin brothers, Fred and George, and my dad in line, as well as, when they were younger, Bill and Charlie. She’s a pretty good cook, but is a little overprotective of me. (That’s why I haven’t told her I’ve gone out with anyone yet, and dread the day when Ron tells her.)
My dad, Arthur, works for the Ministry of Magic, in the Department of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. He’s tall, kinda’ thin, wears glasses, and is balding (but don’t tell him that…). He has a bit of an obsession with muggle items. Once a prankster back when he was at Hogwarts, he’s fun to be around, lets us get away with pretty much anything, and is the exact opposite of mum personality-wise. And now that he’s getting a lot better pay, since Bill became the Minister of Magic about a month or so after Percy died in a battle with Voldemort, sacrificing himself for me and Ron, I and my family are a lot better off than we were before.
My favorite and oldest brother, Bill, is undoubtedly the tallest of us. He’s his father’s son, funloving, easygoing, and was quite the troublemaker in his days at Hogwarts, as well as Gryffindor Beater, Head Boy, Prefect, and the most popular boy in school. Bill likes to dress muggle-style. He often wears a black leather jacket, a white t-shirt, jeans, and boots, only they were made out of dragon hide. He has a really neat fang earring in one ear, and his hair is a bright red like all his siblings’ and other family’s, though undoubtedly much longer than any of ours, except for maybe James’s – that’s who he got his style from. It’s grown out and tied back into a ponytail.
Next is Charlie. He’s very similar to Bill, very easygoing, very outgoing, popular, Prefect, and Quidditch captain. He was Seeker, though – one of the best. He won the Quidditch cup for Gryffindor six years straight. His hair is rather short, and he’s also got more freckles than Ron, me, and the twins combined – it almost looks like he has a tan. He’s also somewhat shorter than Percy, Bill, or Ron – he’s more like me, mum, and the twins, short and stocky. His arms are often burned and his hands rough, because he works with dragons in Romania.
My twin brothers Fred and George (who would be my favorites if it weren’t for Bill) are now nineteen years old and working at a joke shop in Diagon Alley, since both had been major pranksters back in their not-too-long-ago school days, as well as the Gryffindor team Beaters, some of the best. Both are rather short and stocky, as aforementioned, and they take after Bill and dad personality-wise. They’d also taught me to believe that anything was possible if you had enough nerve.
My older brother, Ron – the youngest of my brothers – is tall, gangly, and freckly like Bill, Percy, and dad. He’s Keeper for Gryffindor (not very good, but a little better than he was in my Fourth Year, anyways), and quite tactless when it comes to girls, but has still managed to land Hermione after two years of crushing on her. Now they’re inseparable. He’s a star chess player, and taught me to be, as well.
“Hey, Ron, where’re the others?” I asked.
“Oh, they’re coming with Professor Lupin and Tonks to the platform-”
“Professor? Ron, he's not a-” I gasped, “Ron, REALLY?”
“Bill’s Minister, Dumbledore’s Headmaster, and with Fudge gone, who’s to stop him?” said George.
“Malfoy’s dad…” I muttered.
“But the lousy git’s in-”
“He’s not in Azkaban anymore, remember?”
“Oh, then that could be a problem…”
“Yeah, it could.”
I looked around me. Hannah Abbott stands outside the doors of Flourish and Blotts with a similar-looking woman, who is holding in her arms a blonde-haired boy no older than three or four. Dean Thomas is sitting alone in between the owl emporium and apothecary, and Draco Malfoy, looking both bored and annoyed, was leaning against the dusty window of Ollivander’s.
When he saw a tall, blonde-haired girl approach the door, however, he then quickly apparated on the spot with a whip-crack.
The blonde rushed out of Ollivander’s and screeched angrily, “Draco, you little ingrate, where do you think you’re going!”
“Who’s she?” asked Ron, looking back.
I shrugged, “Never seen her before.”
***
With five minutes to spare, I, Ron, Fred, George, and Bill (who is temporarily moved into the Burrow again) arrive at Platform 9 ¾. Charlie wasn’t able to make it, unfortunately – he’s still stuck in Romania. Ron and I board the train, say goodbye to our brothers and parents, and when the train starts moving, we go looking for Harry, Hermione, and Mark.
Finding them in the usual compartment, I sit down next to Hermione, Harry moving next to Mark to allow Ron to sit on the opposite side of me.
Mark McClaggan is the new member of the former trio. He has short, slightly spiky golden-brown hair, chocolate brown eyes, and has much darker skin than any of us. He’s really cool, and a total girl magnet, as well as a Seventh Year Gryffindor, Gryffindor Chaser (Considering he’s only known he was a wizard since last summer, he’s actually pretty good)…and the Half-Blood Prince, the one destined to stand alongside Harry in the final battle against Voldemort. His mum didn’t want him having to live up to that responsibility, to possibly die during the battle, so that’s why she and Mark lived as muggles before my Fifth Year.
Ron quickly launches a conversation about Quidditch, and I smiled, completely content and comfortable. These are the four people I feel happiest around. My brother, while a little (okay, okay, ridiculously) overprotective when it comes to me and boys, is really funny sometimes.
I’m closest to Hermione, though. I can tell her things I wouldn’t dare mention to Ron, Harry, or Mark, and not just because they’re boys. She and Luna are my only real friends; Ron and Mark are more Harry’s than mine.
Two tall blondes, each looking strikingly like Malfoy, peered into our compartment door, took one look at the lot of us, and left, looking repulsed and shaking their heads. The slightly shorter, blue-eyed girl muttered, “What a world…”, while the brown-eyed girl I could have sworn was the one I’d seen in Diagon Alley earlier.
()()()()()()
()()()()()()
“You held out your hand to a halfbreed, Draco? You’re even more of a disgrace than I thought.” One of the twins sneered, as they, Pansy, and Malfoy stepped off the train.
“Potter is a pureblood name, Araillya!”
“That makes no difference whatsoever when it’s attached to filth like him! He nearly destroyed our Lord, or did you happen to very conveniently forget!”
“He’s done it four times now!” said the shorter, blue-eyed girl, outraged, “He’s a Gryffindor, Dumbledore’s favorite, has blood traitors like the Weasleys for friends-”
“Not to mention that mudblood Granger and that saint halfbreed McClaggan,” sniffed Araillya.
“Right. Exactly right,” said her twin, “Potter had a mudblood mother and a blood traitor for a father! Members of the resistance! Potter hung around with Black and that halfbreed Lupin, and this is his son, no doubt the same! And let’s not forget, Draco, he went out with that halfbreed Chang two years ago! That trash, worthy of a Malfoy’s time? Of a Malfoy’s acceptance and friendship? You’re crazy, Draco. Absolutely barking mad.”
Ron, Hermione, Mark, Harry, and I were absolutely seething. How dare she insult Harry and Remus like that!
“C’mon, let’s just go. Ignore them,” I muttered.
The boys, apparently, found this very hard to do, but Hermione said, “Ron, Ginny’s right, they’re not worth it,” and that was more than enough for Ron.
Well, almost enough.
“But they called you a – a – they called you the ‘M’ word! And you expect me to let them just get away with that? You’re mad, ‘Mione, bloody mad!”
His wand was halfway into the air when one of them called, “Oh, look, there they are now!”
I frowned, but it was wiped clean off my face when Araillya and her twin walked away, calling, “Run along now, little cousin, go play with your friends!”
Draco scowled, “And I’ll be sure to inform Longbottom that you’re here! He’ll be ever so happy to see you again, won’t he?”
Araillya’s twin laughed, “Longbottom? Here at Hogwarts? Oh dear me, this will be an even better year than I thought,” as she and her sister boarded the second to last carriage, and it took off towards the castle.
Now, call me naïve, but I was under the impression that your family normally likes you, and that you normally like them. Love them. It would make sense that Malfoy would like them, would think them worthy of his time, but they seemed to loathe each other’s guts. Odd…very odd…
Hermione, Ron, Mark, Harry, and I got on the last carriage, and Malfoy started walking. He’d not be caught dead sitting next to any of us, and that seemed to go over just fine with Ron, who slammed the door shut.
Seeing him walking alone through the drizzle, soon to be pouring rain and lightning…well…I almost felt sorry for him. I mean, his own family hated him. I almost threw open the door and invited him in, but I held back. Stupid bloody conscience.
Rain started to beat against the windows of the carriage, and through that and the darkness, Malfoy soon became invisible. I told myself to be glad. I shouldn’t even be looking for him, anyway. He’s a stuck-up pureblood snob, a Slytherin, a Malfoy. And maybe I’d feel sorry for him if he had ignored us, but he called us blood traitors, disgraces to the wizarding world, and Hermione a mudblood. He supported Voldemort, anyway, and no one who supported him, no one who supported Lucius Malfoy, deserved to be pitied.
Reminding myself of everything that had happened these past years between us and him, at that moment, my pity and sympathy for him vanished completely.
To Be Continued.
Ginevra M W Malfoy is the author of 0 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 1 members. Members who liked Bending The Bars also liked 86 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 1 members. Members who liked Bending The Bars also liked 86 other stories.
Leave a Review