The Other Potter Book Two

Chapter Four: Smart People Don't Fly Cars

The dawn of the Thirty First of August broke at the same time Snape and I did. It had been a long time coming, in all honesty. But it was loud and cold. I was standing in his kitchen in my night gown, which was an oversized t-shirt I’d stolen from the washing at Malfoy Manor, and picking through his cupboard looking for anything to eat -- well, anything unhealthy to eat.

"What do you think you're doing?" Snape's voice boomed from behind me.

"Ah," I said. Sprung. "I was going to make breakfast."

"I've had enough of this; these lies." He said, clearly pissed off. "You have detention -"

"You can't give me detention! Term hasn't even started yet!"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Malfoy. I am over this utter crap that you speak constantly. You think you're above the rules, but you're not."

"Are you still not over the cat thing?" I groaned. “It distinctly says CATS!” he bellowed and I groaned louder.

“Linear time is meaningless, sir. ” I told him. "It is a cat, just miniaturised. Cats have no concept of time! Actually, sir, if you're an expert -" (he groaned) "- why don't you tell me, what is the difference between a cat and a kitten?"

“You are one of the rudest, most audacious people I have ever laid eyes on."

"Wow, thank you sir!" I said sarcastically. "Do go on!"

"You think you’re better than everyone else, don't you?" he scoffed. "Just like someone else I know." snape paused and sneered. "Lucius Malfoy."

"Wow! Fuck you." I swore at him, shaking my head in disbelief. Snape had surpassed his own level of assholeism. "You don't even know me."

"Don't I?" He said, his voice so icy that I felt shivers go down my spine. "You're just the same. Just as manipulative, just as superior —”

In one swift move, I had him pressed against the wall with my forearm; my other hand held my wand, which was pressed against his neck. I wasn't sure how I'd managed to push a fully grown man against a wall, but I guessed that anger makes you powerful.

“You think I would torture my own child until she was nearly dead? You think I would try to kill her? Do you think that I would break a thousand wizarding laws and use unforgivable curses on my own daughter? Do you think I'd make my kin believe they were worthless and unlovable? I am nothing like him.” I released Snape and threw my wand across the room.

His eyes were wide, face pale. He was looking at me as he never had before.

My stomach was churning, bile rose in my throat. I walked calmly to my bedroom and closed the door behind me. I slid down the wall and huddled my knees, breathing shaky breaths.

I had never lost control like that. I had never let my anger take over before. My father had. He always had. Snape was right. I was just like him.

“Don’t cry. Don’t cry.” I whispered to myself.

“Malfoys don’t cry, you pathetic mule. You’re weak! Stupid! Crucio!”

I gulped up air, trying not to suffocate from the memory. I didn't want to cry; crying shows you're weak. I wasn't weak – I wished I wasn’t weak. My father had taught me, trained me, engrained in me that tears were a sign of weakness. So I fought against them constantly. I knew he was a liar and wrong but I still followed his rules. I was conflicted. I was a walking contradiction.

I had said far too much. Snape knew everything ... I was pathetic ... Useless ... Hopeless ... out of control ...

I felt warm tears blossom from my eyes and as they rushed down my cheeks I let out a shuddering breath. Whether or not crying was a sign of weakness, it made me feel weak. That I couldn't change. Ever.