Blessed Release: The Pardon

Blessed Release: The Pardon

Chapter Six: Draco Makes Soufflé

I used to do things

And I'd say things

And Jesus I was evil

-Jesus I Was Evil, Darcy Clay

"I have decided I do not like capital letters," announced Lucy. "They are just plain boring."

Harry nodded vaguely. He had developed a skill that Draco had been born with, he could now tune Lucy's voice out so easily that sometimes he didn't hear when she was saying something important, which wasn't very often. The only useful things she had said since they'd run into the sunset (which was NOT romantic) were:

"I'm tired, let's sit down," and "I'll be quiet now." She hadn't kept the latter promise, unfortunately, and was now babbling on as incoherently as ever.

After the escape from Wilson and the Disembodied Voice, they had found a thin river that ended in a small lake, which was surrounded on all sides by a sandy beach. Lucy had recently found a perfect 'writing stick' and was scratching words into the sand. A wonky sentence now read: 'lucy was here and was tired the end.'

Harry read it absentmindedly. He felt disconnected, not quite in the stage where you feel that you're floating above your body, but when all voices took on a muted quality not unlike putting on earmuffs to blur the sounds you're hearing.

"And grammar sucks," continued Lucy. In a sort of bemused way Harry wondered how she knew what the word 'grammar' meant. "I mean, what's the point of full stops? And colons? And semi-colons for that matter..." Harry suspected that Draco had been tutoring her in the art of speaking so that you sound smarter than you actually are...Harry wondered where Hermione was. He hadn't seen her in the Dream Land yet. He stood and stretched, finally making a decision about what he would do.

"Carter," he said, using Lucy's last name. "We should get going."

"Going where?" asked Lucy, looking up. "And don't call me Carter. I am not a military official."

Harry cocked his head to one side, and stared at her. Lucy scrunched her face up in a confused manner.

"What?" she asked. "Have I got lip gloss on my teeth?"

"No," said Harry. "Do you feel that people judge you before they know you?"

"All the time," answered Lucy good-naturedly. She stood and pointed to the east. "Let's go that way," she said. "It looks like it has a nicer landscape."

Harry nodded and they set off. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. (Awwwwwww...)

~~~~~~~

"Coffee..."

Draco lay sprawled across the grass. Arachne rolled her eyes.

"That's just pathetic," she said. "Saint Boots, will you do the honours?"

"My pleasure!" cried Saint Boots, and he abruptly kicked Draco's tender ribs. (Mmmm...tender ribs...)

Draco groaned and turned onto his side. Then he opened his eyes weakly and sat up slowly. Saint Boots kicked him again.

"Stop it!" cried Hermione. Saint Boots kicked him again, then paused while Draco stood up, swayed and fell down on his butt. Saint Boots aimed another kick at Draco, but was stopped by Hermione. Draco stood up again, this time more steadily.

"Stop it, Saint Boots!" cried Hermione. "I don't like Malfoy, but I don't think violence is ever particularly necessary."

"What about that slap in third year?" asked Draco, his voice still slightly weak but not without malice. "I swear there was a hand print across my face. It didn't hurt much, though..."

"So you want me to slap you again? Cause I will, Mr. Smart-Ass."

"What happened to 'unnecessary violence,' Miss Violence Is Unnecessary?"

"Nice comeback, Mr. I'm So Cool I Have A Posse."

"Yeah, well having a posse who only like you for your money is better than having no friends at all, Miss I Have No Friends."

"Screw you, Ferret-Face."

"Sod off, Mudblood-Face..."

"Hear, hear! That's enough!" Saint Boots broke into the heated fight. "If you don't shut your pie holes right now then I will stuff my three hundred galleon boot into your face. Then you'll have to complain of heel prints on your faces instead of hand prints...and while you're unconscious I will cook you in a stew and feed you to my friends."

Draco snorted. "Like you have any friends," he said. At once Saint Boots had raised his leg and his boot was pointed at Draco's nose. Draco looked scared. Saint Boots looked smug. Hermione looked angry. Father Time looked like he wasn't paying attention. Arachne was examining her fingernails with interest.

Everything was dramatically silent for a few seconds, and then the air exploded with voices.

Draco: "Get your boot the fuck away from my face!"

Saint Boots: "Make me, peroxide."

Draco: "This hair is completely natural!"

Saint Boots: "And my mother's the queen of France."

Hermione: "Calm down everyone! Let's sort this out like the mature people we are."

Father Time: "No one cares what you think, you bushy-haired know-it-all!"

Hermione: "I'm not a know-it-all!"
Father Time: "Then what are you, Miss Goody-Two Shoes?"

Arachne: "Shut up, Father."

Father Time: "I'll shut up when I'm told to."

Hermione: "Arachne just told you to shut up!"

Father Time: "Touché."

Suddenly there was a loud pop and Father Time disappeared. Then there was another pop, and Arachne was gone. Saint Boots began shaking, then cried out: "Not the spontaneous combustion!" And then he spontaneously combusted.

After the dusty remains of the trio had floated away on a light breeze, there stood a magnificent figure dressed all in black. He (or she, for that matter, seeing as they were wearing a long, hooded cape with the hood up) was wearing a long, black, hooded cape with the hood up. They were also wearing boots that would have shamed Saint Boots' boots. The black caped figure strode forwards with long steps in the amazing boots. Then, they paused, lifted off the hood and revealed themselves to be...

~~~~~~~

Harry raised his head, sniffed the air and growled ominously. Lucy looked up, and frowned.

"What is it?" she asked.

Instead of answering Harry jumped up off the log he had been resting on and lunged for Lucy's throat. But instead of kissing her passionately, which is what would happen in the 'real world' he tore out her jugular and ran into the distance, howling. He was slowly becoming a rabid dog...

~~~~~~~

Then, they paused, lifted off the hood and revealed themselves to be...Cassandra! *Shock horror, Oh my god, What a bitch, blah, blah, blah.*

"Bravo, bravo!" she said, clapping her hands slowly. "You have defeated and killed the famous Harry Potter!"

"Ah, no we haven't," said Hermione. "I haven't seen Harry here yet."

"Damn it," said Cassandra. "I was sure that I told them to make him attack you at dawn..." she looked up at the sky. "Oh God damn it! No one told me it wasn't even dawn! I am so screwed." She calmed down and looked at Draco and Hermione.

"Ah, well," she said. "On to Plan B!"

Milly, Sally, Schnookie and Coral appeared.

"What Plan B?" asked Milly.

"The Plan B we discussed earlier," said Cassandra. "In case you fools messed up."

"There is no Plan B, is there?" asked Schnookie.

Cassandra looked extremely sad, and she shook her head. "No, there isn't any Plan B," she said. "But we can improvise!"

A great red curtain abruptly fell over the stage that Hermione had been watching only half an hour earlier. Draco and Hermione both heard hurried whispers, and some crashes. Then Sally's face appeared between the two curtains.

"Lady and Scumbag!" cried Sally. "I am proud to present...the end of your lives as you know them! You are about to participate on the most modern, apocalyptic game show ever created! The things you do on this show will affect you for the rest of your lives. So choose wisely! And since Draco's a jerk, we'll let Hermione pick her category first!"

Hermione and Draco exchanged glances. In the absence of friends, they bonded. Slightly.

"Just play along," whispered Draco. "Cassandra's crazy. Did you know she's not even my aunt? She was my father's mistress and then she came onto me in a closet and Lucius had her sent away. I don't know why I kept visiting her...She is kind of hot."

Draco looked off into the distance, reminiscing about times long gone. Hermione knew he was now pretty much dead to the world, so she got up on the stage, after Sally had drawn back the curtain and bade her do so.

"Now," said Sally. "Which category do you choose?"

Hermione looked up at a glowing board that had appeared out of nowhere, decorated with five different categories, which were as follows:

Door Number One; Door Number Forty-Two; Phrase and Fable; How to Make Soufflé; One Eyed Newts - Friend or Foe?

Hermione stared at the list. "What is this?" she asked. "How can Door Number One be a category?"

Sally jumped up and down with glee. "She said Door Number One! She chose Door Number One!"

"I did not," said Hermione indignantly, but it was too late. Cassandra liked to play dirty.

"Now on to Milly," said Sally, and Milly came sullenly on stage.

"Do I have to do this?" she asked Cassandra.

"Yes," answered Cassandra.

"Fine," muttered Milly, and all of a sudden her face brightened into a fake smile. "Tell me, Hermione, what is your favourite number?"

"Eight," said Hermione.

"No," said Milly happily. "The correct answer is two hundred and thirty five."

"What?" cried Hermione. "I think I would know my own favourite number."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you? Now, on to the next question! What's behind Door Number One?"

"I don't know. A book?"
"Oh, burn. That's completely and totally wrong."

"Then what is it?"

"A dictionary."

"That's a type of book!"
"No it isn't.

"It is!"

"Isn't."

"Is!"

"Next up, Draco!" As Draco walked up on stage Milly nudged him in the ribs. "You'd better do well," Milly murmured, "Because your girlfriend here ain't doing nothing to save your heiney."

Draco frowned. "Granger's not my girlfriend," he said.

"Oh, sure she isn't." Milly winked. "Have fun!" she said, and floated off stage. The next presenter was Coral.

"From the list, Draco," she said. "Choose your next category."

"How to Make Soufflé," he chose.

"Nice," said Coral, and she moved on to the questions. "What exactly is soufflé?"

"A light spongy dish usually made with stiffly beaten whites of eggs."
"Correct-a-mundo!"

Draco beamed. I'm not kidding, he actually beamed.

"Now we have a winner!" called Schnookie, as he came on stage. "The winner is Draco, by one point!"

"What?" shouted Hermione. "He only got one question! I got two! That's unfair!"

"Life's a bitch," said Coral. "Then your half-brother's cousin twice removed on his father's side dies."

Everyone looked at Coral.

"What?" she asked. "My uncle Marty used to say that all the time."

"Right," said Cassandra. "Now, Draco, you may be wondering what your price is. Well here it is, a big fat death! Mwahahahahahahahahahahahaha!"

Draco stared at his not-aunt. "What are you on?"

"I mean," said Cassandra, "That I am going to kill you!"

"But you think I'm a hot piece of ass!" cried Draco, causing all eyes to turn to him.

"Once, maybe," said Cassandra. "But your father is so much more mature."

"He's in Azkaban now, you know," said Hermione helpfully.

"Oh shit!" cried Cassandra. "I've gotta get arrested! Someone place a citizen's arrest on me."

"No," said Draco. "We're going to make you suffer. Now wake us up!"

"It won't do any good," said Cassandra. "Lucy's dead anyway."

"What?" everyone gasped. "She can't be!"
"Yes she can," cackled Cassandra. "She'll get her nice funeral, all right!"

"Wake us up anyway," said Draco. "We can deal with her then."

"Ah, Mistress," began Schnookie, but Coral shushed him.

"Let her find out later," she whispered.

Schnookie nodded, and Cassandra shrugged. "It won't do any harm, I suppose, for you to wake up," she said, and suddenly they all sat up in their own respective beds.

It was going to be a long day.