Save Yourself

Draco was flanked by two utterly repulsive, large boys who didn’t say a world as their leader stepped inside the compartment, arms folded and eyes hard.

”Do you mind if we sit here?” he asked, his voice revealing the trademark drawl of a Malfoy.

I nodded mutely and allowed the three to sit down; his two henchmen sat across from me and he sat to my right.

”My name’s Draco Malfoy, and this is Vincent Crabbe and Greg Goyle. You’re Zachary Parkinson’s sister, aren’t you?” Draco asked. I was slightly startled by his odd sounding name, but I quickly recovered my wits and nodded.

”Pansy Parkinson, and yes, Zachary’s my brother. You’re Lucius Malfoy’s son, aren’t you? Father’s mentioned you often, I believe.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, “Has he? And to what may I owe the honour of recognition within your family’s grand estate?”

So he wanted to play a formality game, did he? His proper wording didn’t faze me one bit, as it was the language I had grown up around.

It was time to make the Parkinson family proud.

”The answer to your inquiry, I do believe, shant be uttered in the company of those of whom I have yet to greet and be acquainted with, who are therefore, in my presence, unknown.”

Draco shifted mildly in his eat, “As elated as I am to be in the presence of such respectable and honourable company, Miss Parkinson, I can assure you Crabbe and Goyle pose no immediate threat. I do, however, request – can we please drop this absurd formal speech? It’s giving me a headache.”

I smirked, “Sure if that’s what you want.”

Eager to divert him from his earlier question, I dug through my mind to find a topic interesting enough to hold his attention for more than a moment rather than have him concentrate on the mentioning of our parents’ agreement.

”Have you heard Harry Potter’s on the train?” I asked innocently.

I suppressed the urge to laugh as Draco’s eyes widened in astonishment, “Harry Potter? But isn’t he a baby?”

”Use your head, Draco,” I said a bit sharper than necessary; “He was a baby ten years ago. What would that make him today?”

His eyes narrowed at my sharp words, but his embarrassment was quickly covered by a smug look of observation.

”That sharp tongue of yours just won’t do, Miss Parkinson. It’ll definitely have to go before the wedding.”

At the word ‘wedding’, instead of the hope and anticipation that usually filled me, a sick sense of dread squirmed inside my stomach, suddenly making me violently ill.

I had loved the idea of my wedding until I met the one thing I refused to question beforehand; the groom.

”I dare you to try, Draco.” I spat out his name as if it were a curse fouler than Harry Potter, “No one’s ever been able to change that part of me – you’re welcome to try, of course, but don’t expect any results.”

He smirked and stood up, absentmindedly waving his right hand for Crabbe and Goyle to join him.

”I’ll look upon it as a challenge. Seven years should be more than enough to fix your – problems, shall we say?”

With a sinister smile, he turned around and walked out of the compartment door to greet his next challenge; Harry Potter.