Hi, I'm 14 I'm bored so I thought I'd write some Dramionie thoughts...
Please let me know if this is good and if I should carry on thanks xx
"Oh shut up!" I said, annoyed. I mean, how is anyone supposed to sleep with the constant sound of Crabbe's snoring? I lie in bed, thinking. Zabini rustled the covers in the bed furthest from me. I closed my eyes, and tried to sleep. But I couldn't. The memories of today kept creeping into my mind. Granger's embarassed face as I caught her staring at me in Potions. She had looked away, pink in the face. Then she had given Potter a dirty look. The memory made my heart swell. I gulped and tried to clear my mind of filth and concentrate on the fateful task he had set me. What if he knew what I was thinking about? What would my father do?My mother? Aunt Bella? I could see their horror-struck faces clear in my mind as they watched the beautiful figure walk up the aisle towards me, lift up the veil and then-
No. I could not let myself get that far. Fear filled my chest as I thought about what I wanted. I couldn't ignore these feelings, I'd long since admitted them to myself.
I'd tried push them away, the feelings. It was towards the end of our first year when I realised that my heart gave a funny leap whenever I saw her near. Whenever I heard that voice answer a question something would happen inside me. I liked Granger. I had a crush. I couldn't let this happen, let it develop. I was disgusted with myself, I'd tell myself that the next time I saw her, I'd think of the dirt, the filth she really was. But then, nothing mattered when I looked into her eyes as she snapped at me over Quiddich in our second year.
"Dirty slime," I told myself. She looked at me a second longer and I knew if I looked back I'd get too carried away with these 'crush' thoughts.
"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," I spat.
I knew I'd upset her that day, but I'd tried not to feel bad. Mudblood is now a word us Slytherins use every day now so it's not as big a deal. Parkinson had used it today in fact. Never before has she made me so mad. It was when I'd been watching Granger in Potions. I was looking at her long brown waves, when she turned round. We looked at eachother for a few blissful seconds and then she'd looked away. Then she turned to Potter and said 'That's not what it says in the book!' She cast him a dirty look and turned back round to listen to what Slughorn was now saying. Parkinson had noticed me looking.
"That ugly mudblood Granger is getting jelous of Potter," she said gleefully. It was different when I'd said it, because I knew I didn't mean it. But when those foul words came out of Parkinsons mouth and wanted nothing more than to punch her. Then I'd remembered who I was and pulled myself together. Slughorn then said something to Potter about inheriting his mother's brilliant talent. Yes, brilliant Potter with his brilliant scar. Always getting all the attention, the best seeker in the world. Yeah right. Like his family were all that great anyway. Slughorn should pay attention to me too, seeing as he's friendly with well-connected people.
"Sir, I think you knew my uncle, Abraxas Malfoy," I said to him as he walked past my desk.
"Yes," said Slughorn, without even looking at me, "I was sorry to hear he had died, although of course it wasn't unexpected, dragon pox at his age. . . ." And he walked away. I had a strong urge to beat up Potter when I saw the smirk on his ugly face.
Please let me know if this is good and if I should carry on thanks xx
"Oh shut up!" I said, annoyed. I mean, how is anyone supposed to sleep with the constant sound of Crabbe's snoring? I lie in bed, thinking. Zabini rustled the covers in the bed furthest from me. I closed my eyes, and tried to sleep. But I couldn't. The memories of today kept creeping into my mind. Granger's embarassed face as I caught her staring at me in Potions. She had looked away, pink in the face. Then she had given Potter a dirty look. The memory made my heart swell. I gulped and tried to clear my mind of filth and concentrate on the fateful task he had set me. What if he knew what I was thinking about? What would my father do?My mother? Aunt Bella? I could see their horror-struck faces clear in my mind as they watched the beautiful figure walk up the aisle towards me, lift up the veil and then-
No. I could not let myself get that far. Fear filled my chest as I thought about what I wanted. I couldn't ignore these feelings, I'd long since admitted them to myself.
I'd tried push them away, the feelings. It was towards the end of our first year when I realised that my heart gave a funny leap whenever I saw her near. Whenever I heard that voice answer a question something would happen inside me. I liked Granger. I had a crush. I couldn't let this happen, let it develop. I was disgusted with myself, I'd tell myself that the next time I saw her, I'd think of the dirt, the filth she really was. But then, nothing mattered when I looked into her eyes as she snapped at me over Quiddich in our second year.
"Dirty slime," I told myself. She looked at me a second longer and I knew if I looked back I'd get too carried away with these 'crush' thoughts.
"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," I spat.
I knew I'd upset her that day, but I'd tried not to feel bad. Mudblood is now a word us Slytherins use every day now so it's not as big a deal. Parkinson had used it today in fact. Never before has she made me so mad. It was when I'd been watching Granger in Potions. I was looking at her long brown waves, when she turned round. We looked at eachother for a few blissful seconds and then she'd looked away. Then she turned to Potter and said 'That's not what it says in the book!' She cast him a dirty look and turned back round to listen to what Slughorn was now saying. Parkinson had noticed me looking.
"That ugly mudblood Granger is getting jelous of Potter," she said gleefully. It was different when I'd said it, because I knew I didn't mean it. But when those foul words came out of Parkinsons mouth and wanted nothing more than to punch her. Then I'd remembered who I was and pulled myself together. Slughorn then said something to Potter about inheriting his mother's brilliant talent. Yes, brilliant Potter with his brilliant scar. Always getting all the attention, the best seeker in the world. Yeah right. Like his family were all that great anyway. Slughorn should pay attention to me too, seeing as he's friendly with well-connected people.
"Sir, I think you knew my uncle, Abraxas Malfoy," I said to him as he walked past my desk.
"Yes," said Slughorn, without even looking at me, "I was sorry to hear he had died, although of course it wasn't unexpected, dragon pox at his age. . . ." And he walked away. I had a strong urge to beat up Potter when I saw the smirk on his ugly face.
