capeandcowllogs | (no subject)

(no subject)

WHO: A bunch of magic lamers.
WHERE: Dunwich, Massachusetts.
WHEN: Friday, September 2nd through Sunday, September 4th.
WARNINGS: TBA. There's bound to be something.
SUMMARY: Herp derp.
FORMAT: Whatever you feel like!

Let's get it on.

■ Friday, September 2nd.
■ Saturday, September 3rd.
■ Sunday, September 4th.

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Don't be flippant, I'm just saying this so you can't lord it over me, Weasley.

Come, now. I would never do such a thing.

[ At the next, he actually does smile, looking down at his watch. ]

Bit late, lad. Shouldn't you be in bed?

[Now his hands are going to his hips, he's getting really huffy now. Even if he was going back to collapse in bed because he was exhausted, shut up.]

I'm seventeen, Weasley, and furthermore, you have no right to talk to me like that.

[ Ooh, a tantrum, is it? Ron's properly frightened in that... He's not really frightened at all. Draco's a lot less infuriated when they aren't exactly peers. He's just... Bratty. ]

I can't believe I'd forgotten what a twat you are. To think Harry vouched for the lot of you. Halfway to a true shame, that.

Run along. I'm not in a mood to babysit.

[He opens his mouth to protest how he's not a twat and not a baby even though he was totally acting like one, but then he pauses, confused.]

Why the hell would Potter do that?

Well, it was nothing you did, was it?

[ Course not. So far as Ron's concerned Draco's a coward through and through. Always was, always will be. He can muster up a little more sympathy for his situation, nowadays, but the guy's still pretty terrible. ]

Your mother lied to Voldemort to our benefit, the way I understand it. That one deed's kept the three of you from rotting in Azkaban. You better be a grateful son.

[That doesn't explain much to him, and so only confuses him more.]

Don't you worry about my mother, Weasley. But what would she dare lie about? [He might sound a little demandy, but he's curious about his mother, shut up.]

The death of Harry Potter, and you'll be good to keep that to yourself.

This giving of snippets of information habit some of you have is quite infuriating, you know that?

[More to himself as he thought about him foolishly lying about the trio at the Manor not too long ago:]
Interesting that lying about Potter seems to run in the family lately, though.

I'm sure anything I'd do would be thought of as infuriating. ... A bit satisfying a though, actually.

[ He adopts a thoughtful expression at the aside, mouth pressed into a line before the detail comes back to him. ]

Oh, right! You did do that, didn't you? I'd almost forgotten. [ You know, between his wife being tortured and Dobby dying and that other Malfoy Manor stuff. ] Sporting enough.

[ A slight pause. There's a moment in which, again, he thinks logically and it's easy to sympathize with Draco's situation. Now that he's older compared to everybody, it's much easier to see the git as a child. ]

I said you had a choice here, right? You get that yet?

[A bit of color rises up in him at the flippant way he said it was sporting of him. Considering the Dark Lord's wrath, he thought it more than sporting.]

Yes, I got that awhile ago, thanks for trying to play my moral angel, though. [He turns to leave but stops at the threshold to say over his shoulder.] I know what I am back home, no one has to remind me over and over again. But I'm not here.

There you are, then.

[ And that's that. ]

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