Snap Squared

Draco Malfoy is so, so done. He's sick of fighting for an oh-so-pretentious Dark Lord just because his stupid parents decided to sign themselves up for some good old genocidal racism. He's sick of denying all of his own feelings and being thrown around like a beach ball by everyone around him. He's sick of being a pawn, and he doesn't care anymore, and it's beautiful.

published on March 159 reads 8 readers 0 not completed


"Look, I know that I'm the most devastatingly attractive student at this entire school, but that doesn't mean that you can't at least make an ATTEMPT at subtlety."
Parkinson flushed a furious shade of red, sputtering out some sort of excuse, and Zabini simply smirked, taking another sip of whatever he had in his glass. Malfoy smiled to himself, amused by their reactions, and straightened out his jacket, surveying his costume in the mirror. He didn't quite like the cut of this suit, but... It would do. They weren't exactly going to meet the king of the vampires, after all.
As the redness faded from her cheeks, Malfoy tuned Parkinson back in like a radio station. "...but you do look... appropriate. Practical. Um. As much as Zabini, of course."
Zabini and Malfoy caught each other's gaze at the same exact moment. Malfoy looked away quickly, dusting imaginary dust off of himself and sighing heavily. "Of course, Parkinson."
Parkinson smiled thinly. Zabini grinned, standing and stretching. "Let's go, girls."
Malfoy tossed a dirty look at Zabini, which Zabini ignored. They all walked out the door without another word.


"You're kidding me," Parkinson muttered dryly. "We're here to smuggle beer into the castle. I thought that the Dark Lord had a mission for us!"
Zabini snorted. "Yeah, he does. Get inebriated."
Malfoy didn't say a word as Parkinson and Zabini began to bicker, fiddling with the hem of his sleeves. Parkinson wasn't far from the truth - unfortunately, however, Malfoy was the only one that the Dark Lord actually trusted with aforementioned mission.
Malfoy's stomach turned. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to poison a girl. But what choice did he have? He could die. He was probably protected enough by the castle, but... turning traitor to the Dark Lord himself was extremely ill-advised, to say the least. His parents could die. Worst of all, he would be utterly and completely alone. Stranded. With no clue how to handle his new curse.
Abruptly, Malfoy stood. "I'll keep the tender busy. Parkinson, amble towards the bathrooms and cut into the back room at last second. Open the back door for Zabini."
Parkinson pouted, but Malfoy knew she couldn't say no. She was disgustingly in love with him.
Zabini grinned, flashing his literally-made-of-precious-metals-because-he's-just-that-rich braces. "Seeya in a minute."
Malfoy nodded, walking towards the front of the bar. He leaned against the bar, tapping out a unique rhythm on the table and smiling coldly. "Sir, if I may have a moment. The name's Xeven, and I need a favor."
The bartender examined Malfoy for a moment, completely frozen, before nodding slowly. "Should we speak privately?" His voice was low and raspy, like he hadn't had a drop to drink in weeks.
Malfoy shook his head, glancing sideways to see Parkinson stumble into the back room unnoticed. Out of his way. "I simply need to pick up a package. Necklace. Charmed, I believe."
The bartender attempted to swallow his horror and failed miserably. Malfoy, of course, let it slide; he wasn't exactly feeling cheerful about it, either. He held out his hand. The bartender, seeing that the two of them were completely alone in the bar, pulled a necklace out of his pocket and dropped it into Malfoy's palm.
The necklace disappeared into a new pocket, and Malfoy disappeared through a doorway.
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