&&; this is how i ROLL ` [ draydray <3 ]

[holly]

I'VE BEEN AWAKE FOR AWHILE NOW

YOU GOT ME FEELIN LIKE A CHILD NOW

At last. A free period. The corridors echoed with the footsteps of the girl, with the swish of her cloak against the stones. Her white-blond hair swirled around her face, cascading down her shoulders and making her already pale skin seem more colorless. Her blue-gray eyes, as always, scanned their surroundings. But she really didn't take in anything. She was just relaxing for the moment.

The squeak of hinges added to the near-silent sounds as she gently pushed open a thick wooden door. Her eyes still on her toes, she did not realize where she was until she looked up. Hair swishing, her wide eyes beheld the trophy room, and she sighed delicately. Trophies. Of what? Achievements? They were all from over ten years ago. She didn't think that any trophies had been given out lately, and if they were, only to Slytherins. A spark of pride touched her heart and her features. She was a Slytherin. Of course she was, what with her father being one of the most well known Slytherins of his time.

She didn't know of her mother's house. She'd never thought to ask. It didn't matter much, though she had already guessed what was probable. Slytherin. Her father would never have fallen for a woman who wasn't crowned with the glory of Salazar's house. Or rather, the Dark Lord's house, as it was better known as now. She slowly paced the room, running her fingers absently over the trophies beside her, knowing that the next student forced to clean them would hate the anonymous fingerprints. But she didn't care. It'd probably be a Gryffindor anyways.

She was so stupid. Wasting her precious free time wandering around in the trophy room. She should be outside, enjoying the sun and warmth. Or in the common room, socializing or doing homework. The thought made her shudder... That mountain of homework. Couldn't the teachers cut them some slack? The exams were coming up, and they couldn't afford to waste time doing homework when they should be studying. Why couldn't they just teach whatever it is they want to teach next year, when there aren't exams just days away? It was ridiculous.

So. Should she leave? Probably. Should she stay? Probably not. But it was quiet here, unlike in the common room or outside. Maybe she'd do her homework and studying here. That sounded okay. So she did just that. She leaned against one of the cabinets, sliding down against it as she pulled her bag around beside her. She slid her notebook full of notes onto her lap and a quill, but lost focus immedeately. She ended up sitting on the cool stone floor, doodling ornate 's's out of snakles and feathers and sparkles, something she often did when bored.

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who? reserved for professor draco malfoy.[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/ul]

[PROFESSOR DRACO MALFOY !]

polar opposites don't push away
IT'S THE SAME WEEKENDS AS THE REST OF THE DIES AND I KNOW I SHOULD
PROBABLY STAY AND THAT'S ALL YOU CAN DO ABOUT SOME THINGS

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No light penetrated into the dark reaches of the dungeon, and so Draco wasn't quite used to the violent rays he was being exposed to. Squinting his eyes, the man strode forth though a pained expression decorated his grim face. He'd spent the entire day in nearly complete darkness, and so was having trouble letting his eyes adjust. He had to find her, though- he had to talk to her. Sure, she may have wanted nothing to do with him and may have made that clear ... but Draco refused to give up. She was his daughter, after all, and because of that he would never cease trying to get through to her.

He was dressed in a dark emerald sweater, and black slacks. His loafers were black as well, completing the outfit. He'd abandoned his robes in his private quarters, since he wouldn't be teaching this period, and gone with a more casual look. Perhaps Holly would be able to forget his station as a professor and just look at him for what he was: her loving father, trying to get to know her better.

Trotting up the stairs, eyes finally having adjusted, Draco wasted no time and took the steps at a fast pace. He went up two with each stride, and in no time he was on the floor where his Daughter reportedly was. Smoothing the front of his sweater, Draco wrinkled his nose slightly at the idea of confronting her in such attire. Any who might have heard Draco admit this would have most likely goggled at him, and wondered why. The sweater was made of only the finest materials, and was from a very expensive store that handmade their clothing. The same went for the shoes, and slacks. Draco, though, thought his daughter deserved better.

Next time she would have better.

He began toward the trophy room at a slower pace, one that would suggest he'd come here with no intent to find her what so ever. He looked quite casual, strolling in, walking toward a trophy that he himself had won for Slytherin. Out of his peripheral vision, he spotted his daughter.

He looked at her, though couldn't muster a smile. Instead, his look was purely inquisitive. She was sat upon the floor, seemingly lost in thought. Draco walked toward her and knelt down, touching her shoulder. "Holly," He said "What are you doing here?" His question was ended with a tight smile, which made him look like he was in pain more than anything. In a way, Mr. Malfoy was in fact, in pain.

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THIS IS CLOSED FOR HOLLY MALFOY, BABES. THE TUNES ARE POLAR OPPOSITES - MODEST MOUSE. DIG IT? I AIN'T COUNTIN' IT, SO NO COUNT FOR YOU, UNLESS YOU COUNT IT YOURSELF. HAVE FUN AND FEEL FREE TO DO WHATEVER WITH PROFESSOR MALFOY!

O-o THAT WAS TERRIBLE. SORRY. I WAS REALLY RUSHED- I STARTED THIS TEN MINUTES AGO AND HAVE TO BE OFF IN FIVE, SO YEAH. THERE WAS NO TIME TO POLISH ANYTHING OR MAKE IT SOUND BETTER V__V

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[holly]

I'VE BEEN AWAKE FOR AWHILE NOW

YOU GOT ME FEELIN LIKE A CHILD NOW

Her sharp ears detected more sounds of approach, and she looked up. A tall figure was coming towards her, across the trophy room. Her stomach tightened slightly and she looked back at her doodlings. But her hand wouldn't move right, thenext 's' came out all blocky and messy. She knew who was approaching. She knew why too. He was coming for the same reason that he always did. He wanted to know her and to have her like him. Yeah, she'd been living with him for almost two years now, but there was no comparison. It would take longer than that for her to cool. It still felt like the fire was burning her, but inside her now.

A gentle finger tapped her shoulder, and she made herself look up. There he stood, not dressed in wizarding robes like she was, but rather in a fine emerald sweater, black slacks and loafers. But the sweater caught her eye. In her younger days she would have smiled and opened her mouth to a fine little sideways D, but she was twelve now. She could not afford such immaturity. She looked at the man as he said, Holly, what are you doing here? His smile... It looked like he was in pain. But it always did when he looked at her, when she knew he was stinging from her rejection, over and over. She felt cruel, putting him through this, but she was still shaking, she still cried herself to sleep, still held those bronze horses whenever she felt weak and alone. It was too soon.

"I was doing me homework, 'Dad.'" She could hear the quotation marks in her voice, and she knew he would too. He father was a professor. He was clever. He would hear them and they would be added to the now endless rows of scratches she had given him with her words. That was how she imagined it, anyways. She didn't love it, but he was just trying too hard. "But, I couldn't ... concentrate." She finished, forming the words carefully and letting the last one drip slowly from her tongue. She bit her lip as she continued to stare up at his face, with his matching eyes and matching hair. She couldn't deny it, he was part of her. Their very voices almost matched, though hers was higher pitched. It saddened her.

Because she looked nothing like her mother. Her brunette, brown eyed, and short mother was nothing like her. Perhaps the only thing she got was that she was pretty. But then, her father was handsome too, she had to admit. Her mouth twisted slightly, as she always did when she was thinking. And she came up blank. She was exactly like her father in every way except gender. Darn. Couldn't just one thing be different, for the sake of her sanity?

The world didn't value her sanity.

Her mouth relaxed, and she looked back up at Professor Malfoy. She didn't like the name, sharing it. Whenever anyone saw that her name was Holly Malfoy, or Ash Malfoy, whichever she decided to put on her name tag, they changed their attitude towards her. Sometimes polarly. One minute they'd be talking or being mean, and the next the other person would gasp, their eyes would become wide, and they would stop whatever they were doing to her, for sake of not offending one of the most powerful pureblood families in history. She had to enjoy this somewhat though. It saved her from a lot of bullyings by seventh years. When they asked, 'What's your name, kid?' all she had to do was gasp, 'Holly Malfoy! And my father's going to get you!' It always worked. And she never told. She didn't grant her father the pleasure of being confided in.

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who? reserved for professor draco malfoy.[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/ul]

[PROFESSOR DRACO MALFOY !]

polar opposites don't push away
IT'S THE SAME WEEKENDS AS THE REST OF THE DIES AND I KNOW I SHOULD
PROBABLY STAY AND THAT'S ALL YOU CAN DO ABOUT SOME THINGS

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Pain shot through his chest cavity, at the sight of such rejection. Draco couldn't fathom why he hurt so badly after all this time. It had been years since he'd even laid eyes on her mother, and yet every time he saw her ... the man suppressed a slight shudder, eyes downcast and taking on a dark shadow. Draco ground his teeth, refusing to think of the woman he had once loved, this girl's mother.

Perhaps he was being too patient with his daughter- her constant refusal would be considered disrespectful by normal Pureblood standards, and thus never tolerated under any other circumstance. However, she had been through so much. Draco had almost lost his mother once, his father as well for that matter, and knew what it felt like to have the one person who you knew without a doubt loved you nearly torn away. Nearly. He couldn't say, however, that he knew what it was like to really have your beloved parent killed, to never hear their voice speak your name again, or feel their loving embrace. Suppressing another shudder, Draco wondered whether that was the real reason he was so patient and forgiving.

Normally Draco was not patient by any standard, but perhaps pity kept him from becoming rageful around his daughter. That and parental duty, but the last reason was something he'd yet to fully delve into.

Draco sighed and stood, before speaking to her in a tone that suggested his patience reflected the fact that he was allowing her to stretch it so thin. "Don't call me that unless you really mean it, Holly." His mouth was twisted into a sort of pained, sneering frown. Draco had long ago forgot what it meant to frown without that infamous sneer of his sneaking into the mix. Her usage of the word "Dad" bothered him greatly, as he knew she really didn't feel for him as she should. She didn't love him as most daughters did their fathers. Draco doubted he'd ever be able to call her his "Daddy's Little Girl" but somebody he hoped he would. False a hope as it was, he couldn't help but hold onto it.

Homework? Was doing it? Draco narrowed his eyes. "Homework for what classes? And why couldn't you concentrate?" His questions were slow, almost like molasses spilling from his mouth. Carefully chosen. He'd suspected kids bullied her, or made her an outcast, in school but Holly would never confide in him. He would never really know, until he gained that trust from her and she learned to trust him.

It killed him sometimes, her not being able to come to him. It also made him angry, but for the sake of her mother, he was able to stall his tendency to lash out at others until he was out on the streets, or near people who Draco knew wouldn't fight back. The man refused to lash out at his daughter. At least for now. Draco found lately he was having more and more trouble suppressing his rage around her, when she said something particularly hurtful or just brushed him off. Being sad was something new to the man ... Or, rather, an old feeling recently found again. Like an old nemesis come to haunt him.

He hadn't felt "sad" in years- only anger, and perhaps even remorse. He'd forced himself to grow rageful instead of forlorn. It was easier to deal with something you could take out on people, instead of a feeling that would eat you from the inside out. Rage to him was physical, where as being heartsick just caused complication and even deeper feelings to be found. Draco liked things simple, when he could have them that way.

Walking slowly over to a stand holding a large trophy, Draco beckoned her toward him. "Come here, Holly." He said in a tone that suggested he wasn't giving her much of an option.

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THIS IS CLOSED FOR HOLLY MALORY, BABES. THE TUNES ARE I'M LIKE A BIRD - NELLY FURTADO AND MADE OF GLASS - TRAPT. DIG IT? I AIN'T COUNTIN' IT, SO NO COUNT FOR YOU, UNLESS YOU COUNT IT YOURSELF. HAVE FUN AND FEEL FREE TO DO WHATEVER WITH PROFESSOR MALORY!

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[holly]

I'VE BEEN AWAKE FOR AWHILE NOW

YOU GOT ME FEELIN LIKE A CHILD NOW

Her hand trembled, ruining the elaborate drawing of an S made of a group of feathers. She didn't tremble from fear or even sadness. It was a reflex. It just happened whenever her father became even slightly annoyed or exaspered with her. Before she spoke she tried to force the shaking back. "Then w-what," Crap. It escaped the confines of her chest. "do you want me to call you?" she asked, mad at herself for displaying that slight, feathery bit of weakness. It sickened her. It made the trembles worse. She clenched her hand into a fist, cracking the tip of the quill and spraying ink all over her paper, just to stop the trembles. Her jaw tightened and a sharp breath hissed through her teeth.

She pulled her eyes away from her blackened paper to stare up at her father. A tight, pained little smile was still carved onto his mouth. Her hand shook again, and she blinked slowly, trying to relax her muscles, which she now realized were tensed as if for battle. She succeeded, which stopped the trembling. A silent sigh of relief escaped her, and having relaxed her body, she pulled her wand from her robe and murmured a spell to siphon off the ink.

Her voice didn't shake as she answered his questions. "Homework... Mostly Dark Arts. Professor North is having us do an eighteen inch long report on curses. And I couldn't really concentrate because... just..." She fumbled for the right words to describe her thoughts without expressing her secret pains. "I was... thinking... about... other things." She knew he'd probably end up prying about what things, one way or another, since she was being so vague.

She knew she wasn't going to be able to do her homework now, what with thoughts of her mother eating at her mind and talking with her father, which was usually an unpleasant experience. She slid her notebook into her bag and swiftly clasped it shut with her quil and ink in the outside pocket, like usual. During her next visit to Hogsmeade she'd have to get some new quils. Her supply was being swiftly depleted as she broke them or mangled them in some way.

"Holly, come here." Her father's smooth voice was a bit farther away now, and she stood warily, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, almost unnoticeably. Her father stood, holding a trphy, a few feet away from her. And he was using that parental tone, the one she knew she couldn't ignore unless she wanted to get in trouble. And her father was able to give her a detention if he so wanted, though she very much doubted he would.

She walked slowly forward, her eyes returning to their wide, innocent state thatthey usually remained in. But she longed to simply stand there and defy him, to let him gather from expression and stance what she thought of him, of his superior demanor and cruelty to impurities. She remembered the rumors that people had worked hard not to reach her ears... But she heard them anyways. She could pry things from the student body easily. The rumors of his punishments of halfbloods like Ted Lupin... Her mouth filled with bile at the thought.

She felt like puking as she swallowed the disgusting taste such thoughts brought up. She was right beside her father now, and she glanced down at a trphy in front of her. It read "Harry Potter. For services to the school." It was dated to fifteen years ago. A slight smirk twisted her lips. She had sometimes heard her father chatting to friends about his "old enemy," just vaguely, as though he were of no importance. Despit her dislike of he father, this "Harry Potter" figure made her angry, because, oddly, she still felt strangely protective of 'Daddy.'

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who? reserved for professor draco malfoy.[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/ul]

[PROFESSOR DRACO MALFOY !]

polar opposites don't push away
IT'S THE SAME WEEKENDS AS THE REST OF THE DIES AND I KNOW I SHOULD
PROBABLY STAY AND THAT'S ALL YOU CAN DO ABOUT SOME THINGS

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Draco tensed slightly when she stood. Did she dare defy him outright? No, she wouldn't go that far. Or at least he hoped she wouldn't. Even Draco had his limits, and if she did something so foolish and disrespectful he would have absolutely no other option but to do something about it. He doubted she would like the actions he would be forced to take.

One other thing he'd been worried about was her lack of hatred toward those whose blood was not as pure, like her own. Surely any daughter of his would be to the point of calling for his assistance should any of her impure classmates so much as glance in her direction. It was a perverse school, Hog warts was, to allow such ... such filth in the same room as Holly. Influencing her, making it seem as if such a thing was okay. He'd almost been the point, distressed over the matter, that he'd wanted to ask if he could teach her at home himself. Of course, he would be assisted by only the finest of tutors, but it would be the idea of her becoming instructed in the fine Pureblood traditions, and finally being able to be raised properly.

Draco would never go at such lengths, though, to brainwash his child into thinking like him. Sooner or later, with enough influence and by being surrounded with such bias, Holly would come around. She'd realize what it was to be a Pureblood, the high society life nothing simple nor frivolous as the Impurities would have you believe. She would see the hidden strategy and politics that shrouded her Grandfather, and her Father, constantly. Every move counted when you were a Pureblood. Every little move.

He nodded slightly as she spoke, noting her smirk with satisfaction. "Do you know who Harry Potter was?" He mused, tilting his head to one side and studying her. Perhaps now was the time he could instill some bias in her head- give her a taste of how unsavory impurities could be.

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THIS IS CLOSED FOR HOLLY MALFOY, BABES. THE TUNES ARE INSIDE THE FIRE - DISTURBED. DIG IT? I AIN'T COUNTIN' IT, SO NO COUNT FOR YOU, UNLESS YOU COUNT IT YOURSELF. HAVE FUN AND FEEL FREE TO DO WHATEVER WITH PROFESSOR MALFOY!

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[holly]

I'VE BEEN AWAKE FOR AWHILE NOW

YOU GOT ME FEELIN LIKE A CHILD NOW

A question. Something she wanted to know. Her eyes inquisitive now, she looked up at her father and said slowly, "No... I've heard you talking about him occasionally though. Who was he?" She lifted a hand and brushed her hair back behind her ear, returning her gaze to the trophy. Her hand slid over the tarnished gold finish, figuring that someone had deliberately avoided cleaning it. A few other trophies stood like that, covered in rust, dirt, or spots. Those were the ones of the famous mudbloods or blood traitors, those who were deliberately dishonored.

Her hand brushed against the back of the trophy, and a flash of brown appeared, along with a set of black eyes. In a fraction of a second, miniature white teeth sank into her hand before sliding away with their creature. An imp in its miniature toga was running away, cackling evilly. But she took no notice. From the moment the teeth hit her skin, she cried out in shock and pain and stepped backward, doubling over over her bleeding hand. A hiss escaped her teeth, which, only she knew, contained a constant stream of "ow's."

She lifted her hands, the uninjured one wrapped around the other, and separated them. A shallow cut that was not thick but very jagged slashed across the back of her right hand. It was bleeding somewhat, staining both of her hands scarlet. And it burned. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip, fighting back the tears that threatened to fill her eyes and brim over, spilling down her face like the blood from the bite. Hopefully she'd be able to hold them back. Draco would probably be upset enough as it was.

She stood straighter, her lips pursed tightly, and looked up at her father. Despite her efforts, a thin layer of salt water covered her lids and lashes, and she knew that the area surrounding her eyes was probably pink from the effort. She wished she could whip out her wand and just heal the bite, but she had no experience in magical medicine. Why couldn't they teach healing earlier in the magical education?

She did her best to wipe the blood off of her hands, inconspicuously drying them on the inside of her sleeves. But when she glanced at them again, a fine film of blood was still trapped in the fissures of her skin. She scowled at the cut, and wondered if her luck could be any worse. Well, it could be, actually. She could be an impurity.

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comment. sorry, this sucks.[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/ul][/quote]

[PROFESSOR DRACO MALFOY !]

polar opposites don't push away
IT'S THE SAME WEEKENDS AS THE REST OF THE DIES AND I KNOW I SHOULD
PROBABLY STAY AND THAT'S ALL YOU CAN DO ABOUT SOME THINGS

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Draco nodded thoughtfully, listening to her tone and feeling himself swell with pride. She didn't know who he was ... perfect. It was the better than he could have hoped! No outside influence. He could definitely teach her straight off the bat what a terrible person Pothead- er, Potter had been, without even having to undo anything else another had taught her.

"Potter was a terrible person, Darling, for one thing," He began, tone soft and calming, "Potter-" he was cut off by a shrill yelp. Cursing, Draco looked at the small brown Imp that was dashing off. Pulling out his wand, he aimed a jinx at the little bastard, but missed for the inability to bring himself to that calm void. It was always hard, when thinking of Holly to do so, which caused some to believe she was more trouble than she was worth. It was that damn paternal bond he had with her, the one emotion that was so strong it could rival what he felt toward his own parents.

He also had trouble conjuring the simplest little curses and things when thinking of the danger his parents could be in, should he slip up. It was such an awkward mix, but he managed. Draco was sure he could overcome the problem Holly presented given enough time and perhaps even a bit of coldness toward her on his end, to distance himself from the girl. He would rather grow to love her completely as a father should, but complete love was for fools, even if it was love for your own child. He could love her, but from afar. That would of course mean he would call her his princess, take her for countless rides through the Malfoy Estate atop his tall gelding, and give her all the support that she needed. However, it meant never getting fully attached.

He soon directed his attention toward the whimpering Malfoy, in an instant beside her. One arm went around her shoulders, hugging her to him, and took the injured hand. He rested his temple against the top of her head, while he gently looked at the wound. It wasn't bad, not as bad as it could have been, but it was enough that her eyes teared. Frowning gently at her, he said in what he considered a soothing tone "No need for tears, Holly, but if you need to cry do so. You're eyes are red." Tapping the hand with the tip of his wand, Draco ceased the bleeding. Cuts couldn't be healed through magic alone, though, and so he stood straighter, a hand on her shoulder.

Draco flicked his wand, summoning a strip of cloth from his office. It flew to him almost instantly, the urgency portrayed through his magic obviously speeding it along. He took her hand again, as gently as the first time, and flicked his wand. The cloth wrapped and fixed itself around the cut, tightening to cease the bleeding even after his spell wore off to ensure a quick heal. "I'm forgetting some- oh." He nearly smacked his own face from the stupidity of what he'd just mumbled, flicking his wand again and sending a dosage of numbing magic to her hand, to cease the pain.

Looking at her, and realizing it had only been a minute or two since the ordeal began, Draco took her chin in the palm of his hand the way a father often did, and looked her in the eyes. "Are you alright, Holly?" The question was sincere, and Draco had a certain antsy, worried look dancing in his eyes.

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THIS IS CLOSED FOR HOLLY MALFOY, BABES. THE TUNES ARE DANCING DEAD - AVENGED SEVENFOLD. DIG IT? I AIN'T COUNTIN' IT, SO NO COUNT FOR YOU, UNLESS YOU COUNT IT YOURSELF. HAVE FUN AND FEEL FREE TO DO WHATEVER WITH PROFESSOR MALFOY!

@_@ PLZ TO FORGIVE SPELLZIE FOR THE SLIGHT POWERPLAYING? IF YOU DISAGREE WITH ANYTHING, FEEL FREE TO ERM .. "EDIT" DRACO'S ACTIONS WITHIN YOUR OWN POST, OR TELL ME TO EDIT MY POST.

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[holly]

I'VE BEEN AWAKE FOR AWHILE NOW

YOU GOT ME FEELIN LIKE A CHILD NOW

Holly was staring at her hand still, feeling a weird desire to spit on it to wipe the blood off as she had done when she was much, much younger, probably six or seven years old. And then her father's arm was around her, and she was pressed against his green sweater. She didn't flinch away from the contact, as she might usually. The gentle weight of his temple against her hair was... slightly comforting, in an odd, unexpected way. It reminded her of... but, oh, she wasn't going to think of that. Not now when the tears were just drying from her eyes. She would not let more of them come today.

His hand took hers and he examined the cut, which was still bleeding. A light tap on her hand paused the blood, clearing the red stain from her hand in an instant. At his comment about crying reached her ears, her lips tightened somewhat and her eyes almost rolled. Almost. Draco was being kind to her now, helping her, and she owed him her respect at this time. Another spell had a step of cloth flying into the trophy room like a banner, waving in the slight wind it stirred up, only for itself. Draco tapped Holly's hand again, his wand still gentle, and the strip of cloth fastened itself around the cut. It was tight, but she knew that was good, for it would hold back the blood that she could feel threatening at the edges of the cut again as the magic drained from her veins.

But the cut still burned. Her mouth, previously tight, twisted up and she bit her lip, staring down at the bandage, at the small reddish-brown stain that was beginning to form, barely visible beneath the layers. Then another tap of a wand, and the magic returned to her hand, sliding in around through her blood and numbing the pain. In fact, she couldn't even feel her hand. It was just a piece of flesh that she could move, but with no nerves or senses. Just... a hand. Odd. She turned and stared up at her father, inconspiciously shrugging his arm off with a slight wave of her shoulders.

The redness around her eyes was mostly gone, remaining only in a pale pink outsline that looked a bit like eyeshadow. Blotchy, slightly damp eyeshadow. She sighed inwardly at she caught her reflection in one of the silver trophies, and she almost dazzled it with a smile before catching herself. Another little kid almost reflex. How stupid. She took a careful, steadying breath before looking back up at her father as he spoke. "Are you alright, Holly?" His voice and expression were full of concern, and it made her stomach twist. So much that it forced a small smile onto her face as she responded. "I'm fine."

He probably wouldn't belive her, but that was okay. She wanted to learn about this mysterious Harry Potter now. After hearing the first few lines of Draco's story, what was once a vague interest caught her full attention. A terrible person with a huge award? Odd. What had he done? Who was he? Questions about the elusive wizard snatched at her attention, but she didn't ask them because they would sound ridiculous. Instead she said, "So... who was this 'Harry Potter'?"

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comment. s'alright. i really don't mind.[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/ul]

[PROFESSOR DRACO MALFOY !]

polar opposites don't push away
IT'S THE SAME WEEKENDS AS THE REST OF THE DIES AND I KNOW I SHOULD
PROBABLY STAY AND THAT'S ALL YOU CAN DO ABOUT SOME THINGS

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Draco felt her shrug his arm from her shoulders, a sense of resignation rolling about his stomach. Holly had allowed him to comfort her for such a short time, and the man was wise enough to know not to push. He was a manipulator by nature, and thus everything he did was a simple step (sideways, to evade detection, or otherwise) toward a goal. It was a push, or pull, or something of the sort to get the person on the other end to do what he wanted them to. This wasn't Draco's fault, oh no, it was just something he did naturally. For now, he was gently leading his daughter toward accepting both his love and authority as a parent. Soon enough, she'd come around. They always did.

She seemed to take a moment to collect herself, and Draco almost felt like embracing her again. It was always a strange emotion, one that he couldn't quite name. Seeping into the very marrow of his bones and wrapping around him firmly, the feeling told him to hug her close and never let her go. Protect her from all bodily harm, and otherwise, the world would throw at her. Draco narrowed it down to a silly weakness he'd have to work on sooner or later. It wouldn't do to have his daughter wrapping him around her finger, oh no. Especially when he had so much to lose.

Draco crossed his arms, the trophy now sitting on a desk alongside other mudblood trophy, all allowed to rust and slowly fade to nothing so that the students of Hogwarts would be reminded just what impurities were.

Taking a breath, the man plunged into what he hoped would be a short, to-the-point history lesson on his old enemy. "Holly, there are some people out there who don't know their place in life. You, as a Malfoy, are above most anyone. You also have Black blood in your veins, which is nothing to overlook," He paused for a moment, waiting for this information to sink in before continuing, "Harry Potter was one of those impurities that just didn't know his place, nor did he respect those above him."

He sat on a windowsill, leaving space beside him as a sort of invitation to her, for her to come sit next to him. "Potter was the only one who had a chance against our Lord. He was vanquished after a few meaningless battles, and now we Purebloods reign supreme, almost completely unchallenged." He finished the explanation with something like a grin, broad and taking up his entire face.

He had noticed her pen before, chewed and disfigured. It was a disgusting habit, one she would be purged of over the summer no doubt. It wasn't like a Pureblood at all to act in such a manner, grinding one's writing utensil in one's teeth. For now it didn't matter, as he planned on teaching her the ways of the Purebloods over the summer. Hopefully she'd actually take an interest in it. It seemed Holly went through pens like most people went through meals- usually three a day, and they all disappeared because they'd bee chewed thoroughly.

"Are you in need of more quills?" Draco questioned, an eyebrow raising while his eyes clearly displayed that he wasn't pleased with her actions.

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THIS IS CLOSED FOR HOLLY MALFOY, BABES. THE TUNES ARE CELLS - THE SERVENT. DIG IT? I AIN'T COUNTIN' IT, SO NO COUNT FOR YOU, UNLESS YOU COUNT IT YOURSELF. HAVE FUN AND FEEL FREE TO DO WHATEVER WITH PROFESSOR MALFOY!

O___O HAHAHHA, SILLY RAMBLING TOOK UP MOST OF THAT. I'M SURE MOST DOESN'T MAKE SENSE ... BUTYEAH.

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[PROFESSOR DRACO MALFOY !]

FINISHED! Sorry it took so long D=

[holly]

I'VE BEEN AWAKE FOR AWHILE NOW

YOU GOT ME FEELIN LIKE A CHILD NOW

So Harry Potter had a chance? Then how was he killed? She pondered that for a moment, then looked back up at her father and spoke. "But... How did he have a chance, anyway? He's only one person." The thought confused her. A single boy, only five years older than she was now, having a chance against the all-powerful Dark Lord? Impossible. Never. The Dark Lord had an army of Death Eaters, magical creatures, and the ministry on his side. Of course he prevailed in the end. But how could there have been a chance.

She noticed her father's eyes flick down to her quill, with its chewed up end and splayed feathers. A hot red blush bloomed on her face in embarassment. She didn't usually chew her quills... Only when she was nervous or angry. Which tended to happen these days, what with all the obnoxious older teenagers around. At his comment she looked at her toes and mumbled, "Um, yeah, I guess so..." Her voice trailed into nothing and she bit her lip, pale eyes still staring at her toes.

When she felt her flaming cheeks cooling she looked back up, absentmindedly running a hand through her wavy white-blond hair, pulling it behind her ear. She looked up at her father, not sure exactly what to say. It was these stupid awkward pauses that kept her and her father apart sometimes. She just didn't have as much to talk about with him as she had with her mother. It wasn't the same. And her father was much more formal sometimes, quite unlike her bouncy, erratic, kind, and open mother whom she so adored. Her mouth twisted slightly and her teeth caught her lip again and she flicked her head slightly, sending her hair tumbling back across her face.

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[PROFESSOR DRACO MALFOY !]

polar opposites don't push away
IT'S THE SAME WEEKENDS AS THE REST OF THE DIES AND I KNOW I SHOULD
PROBABLY STAY AND THAT'S ALL YOU CAN DO ABOUT SOME THINGS

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Draco pursed his lips. Questions weren't something he liked to see spilling from his daughter's lips, at least in this subject. He wished sometimes that she'd just nod her head and take his word as the gospel. Wasn't that how it was supposed to be between father and child? Draco may have been a bit biased, given the way he was raised, but surely he'd come out as a perfect Pureblood ... whether he was daring enough to add "gentlemen" to the end of that was questionable. Some of his acts may have been a bit outside the lines and thus raped him of his "gentlemen" title, but Draco still assured himself he was one. Most of the time, anyways.

"The only reason that lowlife had any chance against our Lord was because of a scar on his head, given to him through a spell, as well as a riffraff of followers." He said the words in a voice that held absolutely no spite nor malevolence. It was simply said as though it was fact, which to Draco it was.

Draco frowned deeply, still looking at the chewed quills. He knew she was having problems with the other kids, he was a professor and a Malfoy after all. He'd even gone as far as to ask a couple of his more loyal students what went on in the Common Rooms and beyond. It was always intriguing, Draco thought, that she didn't just use her name or his to get them to cease their obnoxious and obviously distressing behavior. Why did she not just throw out the fact that she was a Malfoy? They would simply bow down to her then. It was possible that she'd even become the queen of Slytherin because of that fact alone.

Standing, Draco walked slowly to her, almost as a Equestrian would approach a spooked horse. "Holly," He began carefully "You know that you can come to me if anybodies ... troubling you, correct?" His words were cautious, as if he wasn't sure what ground he was treading on now. He didn't want to press the point, but he couldn't stand the fact that his own child was being bullied. By all rights she should have soared to the top of her class simply because of who she was, but here she was ... holding herself back. It was unbelievably frustrating.

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THIS IS CLOSED FOR HOLLY MALFOY, BABES. THE TUNES ARE VICARIOUS - TOOL. DIG IT? I AIN'T COUNTIN' IT, SO NO COUNT FOR YOU, UNLESS YOU COUNT IT YOURSELF. HAVE FUN AND FEEL FREE TO DO WHATEVER WITH PROFESSOR MALFOY!

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