The Cursed Ones

Chapter Twenty Three: Parasite

Trigger warning: Violent language, as well as physical violence, takes place in this chapter. I also do not condone Noir's tauntings of Mr. Fletcher Senior, though some of what she says is true. He is a violent man. I also do not condone some of the language she uses towards him.

There are also mentions of domestic violence.

There is no sexual violence in this chapter.

***

"Hell!" I shriek, yanking my finger out of the mouth of a particularly feisty mandrake, then whack it over the head when it blows me a taunting raspberry. I dangle the blasted thing closer to my face by its leafy hair. "You little bitch," I hiss, my voice lowered so that Professor Sprout can't hear me insulting it. I smirk and flick away its tiny knotted foot when it tries to kick me in the nose. "Nice try," I sneer, "but you fucking suck at fighting." I lower it to my side and wipe the blossoming blood off of my finger over its face before cradling my injury in the crook of my neck protectively. I fucking hate these nasty prune looking attitudinal shit-headed twats. If I could have it my way, I'd hand the ugly little thing straight to Hagrid's dog, Fang. Unfortunately, that isn't an option, and so I settle for simply fantasizing about it while I drop the now screeching mandrake into a bucket of fresh dirt. It can bury itself in the fucking dirt. I'm sure as hell not going to help it. It looks up at me with raging fury, and I snicker as it kicks up a nasty temper tantrum. I hold my middle finger in the air at it as I saunter away.

I take care of a few more teenage mandrakes before finally Professor Sprout comes to me with a sweet smile. "Your time is up, dearie," she informs me warmly. "You may go."

I nod and smile back. "Have a good night," I chirp politely, gathering my things and heading out of the greenhouse. I'm grateful I'm out of there, because if I had only a few more minutes, I would've started beating some mandrake ass. They wouldn't have a chance.

I take my time wandering back up to the school, enjoying the beauty of the nature around me as the sun dips below the horizon. I feel a little exhausted, and so I don't hesitate to head straight to the Slytherin common room.

I find Draco and Pansy sprawled across one of the wide black leather couches next to the fireplace, and I collapse next to Draco before spreading myself over him and stretching. I peer up at his face. "How are you?" I inquire.

He looks away from his phone as he responds. "I'm fighting some hoe on TikTok," he informs me happily. "I'm winning, of course."

I nod. "Of course."

Pansy slaps his arm bitterly, and I break into a wide grin as I realize what's going on. "Shut the fuck up, you albino bastard," she growls. "I'm murdering you in the comment section and you know it." Draco rolls his eyes and cackles as he flashes her the bird, and I reach up to pat his cheek.

"Behave, Coco," I warn him. "She's going to graduate to real life homicide very soon."

"You got that right," Pansy grumbles as her thumbs fly over the keyboard on her iPhone. I'm curious as to what they're arguing about, so I rummage blindly for my phone in my bookbag I've discarded on the floor near Draco's feet. I find it, and I quickly unlock it and open up the app in question.

It doesn't take me long to track down their argument beneath one of Draco's videos. I repeatedly refresh the comment section to keep up with the unfolding drama. They're fighting over the first comment from Pansy: You look like Fletcher's bleached arsehole.

Currently, they're hurling insults.

DracoMalfoy: Suck your ass, Parkinson.

PansyParkinson: Fuck your mom.