purestblood: Just like old times

Just like old times
My home life might be rather dicey at the moment, what with Narcissa marching about the Manor proclaiming that she's responsible for her own orgasms and the like, but it's nice that some things in my life never change.

I was perusing a book that Narcissa was adamant I read, entitled "Wizard, wank thyself" or some such nonsense (or perhaps this one was meant for Draco; you know how young wizards are), when an owl arrived. An invitation from the Dark Lord himself to join my comrades at the Slaughtered Goose. As per usual, the parchment burned to a crisp after reading.

It was with a jaunty spring in my step that I made my way to the bar at the appointed hour. I had a purpose to my life once again. I was going to serve my Lord. I was going to be found worthy of His Praise. I was going to be exalted among my peers.

I was going to stake out the Leaky Cauldron with Severus, MacNair, and Goyle. We were, ostensibly, to be keeping an eye out for "suspicious activity".

Apparently the bartender's pendulous breasts do not count as suspicious activity, but I stand firm in my conviction that human flesh simply doesn't move like that. Narcissa's certainly don't.

The four of us settled down for a cozy afternoon of bonding, Death Eater style. MacNair had his usual Avada Kedavra shots and was soon shortly outside screaming at the sky (he says he was trying to talk to Merlin); I had my usual Buttery Wands; Goyle with his ever-so-plebian Screaming Fizbees (it is certainly understandable why he prefers the drink, however; he hasn't a Screaming Fizbee in years and certainly never from his wife) and Severus insisted on his dreary absinthe martinis. We soon talked him out of those, and, while he might be a tease when it comes to the bedroom, he did imbibe more than a minotaur's share of shots. I was afraid I'd have to levitate him home but he managed to get back to Hogwarts, I'm assuming. I neither know nor care. He did, however, lose twenty galleons playing Old Crone. Honestly. And the man's a professor.

I think I shall use the twenty galleons to buy chastity belts for the Slytherin females who really need them. Honestly, ladies, it can't be that hard to find mates, can it? Shall I send you some paper bags?

Nice to see that Miss Parkinson has returned to her old habits, much as a dog returns to the same stretch of empty ground, seeking a bone that isn't there any longer.

Cease and desist your persecution of my son, ladies, or you will be forced to account for your actions and, I assure you, it will not be pleasant.

petitemillicent @ 2002-09-14 04:41 pm UTC

It is funny.

Your son has stalkers.

We are merely looking out for him.

No need to thank us.

M. B.

potterstinks @ 2002-09-16 02:06 am UTC

Father,

Mother has sent me a copy of the book as well, though I may have accidentally sent it to the library with the rest of my checked out books. Rest assured, however, that the chastity belt has found a good home in the fireplace. Of course, the metal bits aren't burning, but I have patience.

Your pride and joy,
Draco.

purestblood @ 2002-09-17 01:45 am UTC

Draco,

I am sure that you handled the unfortunate chastity belt debacle with your usual good humor and grace.

As for the book, I'm afraid my copy accidentally fell in the fire here. Ah well. The less your mother knows the better. Between the two of us, I'm beginning to think she's gone quite mental.

Your father

(parent)

Current mood:	annoyed
Current music:	House-elves whimpering