||[Sep. 4th, 2005|11:12 pm]
Hogwarts and the Big Apple
“So how was your vacation, Blaise?”
Pansy looks at the dark-skinned boy expectantly, though she doesn’t really need an answer: his skin, which was normally quite dark anyway, is three shades darker. He, like all the other filthy rich kids in their school, had spent the better part of his vacation on a remote tropical island.
“Just fine, thank you,” he answers dryly. “Though I admit I could’ve used a bit more company, with only my poor Mother and dear old Dad for company.”
She smirks. “Ah, but with your fortune, you could’ve paid to have some friends.”
He raises his eyebrow. “True, but I find that store-bought friends leave a rather disgusting after-taste.”
She laughs and throws his arms around him. “I must say, it’s good to have you back. Who else can I share all my rich kid jokes with?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” comes a voice from behind them, “a certain Draco Malfoy, perhaps?”
Standing in the direction of the speaker is Draco Malfoy, ever blond and fabulous, and grinning in a very satisfied way. “Miss me?” he asks cockily.
“We were lost without you, Draco love,” Pansy replies with equal snark.
Blaise smiles along with them. “It’s good to have you back, Draco—but if you’ll excuse me, I have a friend that I need to look for.”
With a nod of goodbye, he exits—leaving only the two in the classroom, both of whom are wondering where in the hell the rest of their class is—
--just as Terry Boot walks in.
Draco raises and eyebrow questioningly. “Who are you?” he asks, as usual oblivious to his rudeness.
“Terry Boot,” the boy, who has dark brown hair and gray eyes, replies good-naturedly. “I’m a transfer student. This is class 710, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Pansy chimes in. “I’m Pansy Parkinson, and this is Draco. Nice to meet you,” she adds, extending her hand towards the boy. Not a bad body on this one, she thinks to herself.
“Same here,” he returns, shaking her hand firmly. He’s got a nice handshake too, gotta remember that.
He looks around the classroom and takes in the meticulous floor, the large desks and plush chairs situated around them.
“Wow, so this school really is high class, huh?” he comments while examining the paintings adorning the walls. “Is this a real Picasso?”
Draco opens his mouth to say something snarky, but Pansy beats him to it. “Yeah, they are. Didn’t your parents tell you what kind of school you’d be going to?”
He shakes his head. “They were too busy, I guess.”
Draco takes this as an opportunity to sigh dramatically, looking bored. “Well, if you two are going to talk about the school all day, I’ll just see myself out, shall I? Perhaps some of my other more interesting classmates,” and here he eyes Pansy pointedly, “will be outside. Ciao.”
He exits with slow, fluid strides, making sure to look back at Pansy a second before the door closes. She sticks her tongue out at him.
“Spoiled prat,” she mutters affectionately. Terry is looking at the door, amused. “Is he always like that?”
She nods. “We’ve been best friends for years. If it weren’t for me, he’d have been killed by every student in this school by now.”
“Really? And why is that?”
She smirks. “Couldn’t you tell? He’s such a spoiled brat that he thinks he can get away with anything he wants. The whole school hate to love him, and love to hate him.”
Terry chuckles. “This should be interesting.”
He gazes out the window thoughtfully, and Pansy takes the opportunity to stare at his ridiculously delicious bum.
Maybe this term won’t be so boring after all. She grins.