| potterstinks @ 2003-04-08 21:56:00 |
| Current mood: | enraged |
Immediately after publicising his odd request for a duel, I found Boot standing in the middle of a vast open space. Before I could even ask why he was challenging me to a duel, he slapped me in the face with a glove. A glove. Such uncivilised conduct should hardly be condoned. Of course, I had no gloves on me, so I had to borrow his to slap him back. So the duel is official.
I've chosen Sir Cadogan the Painting as my second. I could easily have chosen Millicent, but as it's Boot, I hardly feel such force is necessary. In the event of Boot's death, I'll be matched against the stunning wit and grace of Thomas. Ready your hankies, girls, as I'm sure my death will be a bloody one. Boot shall eyeliner me to death, and at the failure of that, Thomas will cry through my best robes. This could get messy.
Millicent ordered I take her on a date last night, and having exhausted the Slytherin sixth-years otherwise, I decided I had nothing better to do. Aside from that, Millicent punches rather hard and I bruise rather easily.
Father knows an artist in Knockturn Alley, so we Floo'd over there. I have nothing but complete disdain for the Floo Network. I hardly feel it's necessary to create a system that dirties your clothes before transporting you to your destination. Aside from that, it makes me feel ill. So naturally Millicent decided this was the only way to travel. We had our portrait done, which is how my inspired choice of a second came about. I don't see what the fuss over art is. It's incredibly dull, but Mother had me sit for a few portraits when I was younger, so it was nothing new. I'm sure the end result will be cherished for generations.
Afterwards, we spotted Miranda Mulligan walking about the castle all wrapped up in bandages, which I thought was a bit odd. I suppose the girl's just clumsy, what with all that extra weight. Then Millicent smashed my toes with her lead foot, and I had to be taken to hospital to ensure there was no permanent damage. Sure enough, two of my toes were broken. She broke my toes! They could be bent for life for all I know. Pomfrey healed them as painfully as she could and I've had to spend the entirety of today barefoot because the bandages she put on were so thick I couldn't get my shoe back on. Naturally I wasn't going to wear just one shoe. Now they've probably been bruised even more.
One would think that Millicent could show a bit of appreciation after I loaned her pocket money, but instead she decided to treat herself to a new broomstick. I'm sure Boot's loins simply quiver with envy.
Comments:
| sinistra @ 2003-04-08 08:08 pm UTC |
I had wondered, Mr Malfoy, why you suddenly appeared nearly two inches shorter than normal.
| blondenarcissa @ 2003-04-08 08:17 pm UTC |
My charming son,
I am sure that Miss Bulstrode stepped on your feet by pure accident. In any case, I am sending you a pair of those Italian loafers you fancy in a larger size to accommodate you whilst your poor toes heel.
Love,
Mother
P.S. I should like to see that lovely portrait.
| boot_boy @ 2003-04-08 08:19 pm UTC |
And it's traditional to slap your opponent in the face with a glove before a formal challenge. You would know that if you were a gentleman and not a churl. Which you are.
| potterstinks @ 2003-04-08 08:22 pm UTC |
Better a churl than a peasant like yourself. And you'll notice I slapped you with a glove as well. I merely assumed we had left the fourteenth century.
(parent)| boot_boy @ 2003-04-08 08:25 pm UTC |
How fortunate for us that we brought your father's hairstyle with us when we journeyed forward from the fourteenth century.
Anyway, you slapped me with my glove. Couldn't you have gotten a glove of your own? Millicent deserves more consideration than this.
| potterstinks @ 2003-04-08 08:30 pm UTC |
Oh, silly me. I suppose I was to say, 'Just a moment, Boot. Quickly. To the dormitory!' While I ran to fetch my own glove. Or perhaps you would rather I had slapped you with my sock.
(parent)| boot_boy @ 2003-04-08 08:47 pm UTC |
Might I also add that your attempts to distract me by insulting Millicent's looks are craven even for you. I see right through your transparent efforts to disguise your dishonorable intentions towards her. It will do you no good.
You cannot weasel out of this duel, Malfoy. I demand satisfaction in blood!
| potterstinks @ 2003-04-08 08:51 pm UTC |
You're right, of course. Since it's you and all, I'll just let you in on my private plans for Millicent. First I plan to drink an absurd amount of alcohol, so as to blind myself. Afterwards, perhaps a little mood lighting. I'm thinking the Great Hall. Right on top of the table. In front of everyone. I'll be the one eating bacon. Millicent will likely have eggs.
(parent)| boot_boy @ 2003-04-08 09:03 pm UTC |
I fail to see how you will be eating bacon off anyone when by that point you'll be so thoroughly hexed you'll be wearing your intestines as a tie.
| potterstinks @ 2003-04-08 09:06 pm UTC |
Oh, I always eat bacon off of my good friend plate. We have a close relationship like that. I doubt my plate would care of my fashion accessories. Are you going to bring your wand, or will you just be throwing beans at me wildly? You see how my second comes in handy for this, as he works as an excellent shield as well.
(parent)| boot_boy @ 2003-04-08 09:19 pm UTC |
He also makes an excellent gurney. Useful for carting your dead body away after the festivities.
| potterstinks @ 2003-04-08 09:23 pm UTC |
Yes, you're right, of course. The impending doom is astounding.
(parent)| purestblood @ 2003-04-09 02:13 pm UTC |
Draco,
I hope and expect that you will win Saturday's duel. I'm sure you can draw upon all the extensive tutoring I've provided you with during the summers. Your honor as a Malfoy and as a Slytherin is at stake. It would not do to have our name besmirched by a boy who aspires to be the next Dame Edna.
Do not despoil my hopes for you.
Your Father
