I Was Dared to Love You (A Draco Malfoy Love Story)

IWDTLY (A Draco Malfoy Love Story) ... 26 -Part 1-

QWA! I forgot, how miserable!: UHiya? Don’t get mad or anything at my lateness. I was actually doing other things such as furthering myself in the educational world (LIES), wondering greatly at the vastness of the universe (LIES), listening intently to my economic teacher preach the effectiveness of equilibrium (LIES), and helping a fellow Author have their story legible by the entire universe (NOT LIES). I’m really lazy today so this might just be one page and two parts long. Remember, even hate comments are comments.

I Was Dared to Love You (A Draco Malfoy Love Story)

Chapter 26: “Don’t Worry, I Didn’t Poison It … Much.”

-Part 1-: The Codes of Conduct

----------| Violet’s POV |----------

            “Devon! Give it back right now!” I yelled viciously into my brother’s face. My hair was wet and dangling in my face from the shower I had just taken. You see, we only have one bathroom in the house (if you don’t count the master bath, which is a total no-zone). As I was getting dressed afterward, Devon snuck in and stole my pajama shorts (he had unlocked it … the ass that he is). The oversized, long-sleeved ‘Cuukie Munster Wwant’ shirt just covered my purple dragonfly panties and it wasn’t helping that I had to stretch upward. “Devon Lennert Jesperson! I am in my underwear, in the hallway, and I want to scratch your eyes out, NOW give them back!”

            He just gave his ‘ha … hahahah!’ laugh and ran down the hallway, opened the door on the right, and threw them in. “Go get ‘em sis! They’re all yours!”

            No. No, no, no, no. My favorite pajama bottoms. Gone. Into … that room. Devon, I’m going to first lure you into a room using chocolat—

            My inner murder plans were interrupted when one, very annoyed looking blonde emerge from his room. My cookie printed pajama bottoms dangled from his left hand and before he could get a good look at me, I grabbed them. Slipping the first foot into the right place, I hobble into the other leg, covering both legs and above all else, my panties. Giving a breath of a sigh, I push my wet hair back and smile at Draco.

            “Sup?”

            “I was just smacked in the face by cookie pajamas. Should I find that weird?” came his monotone answer. He was in a pair of gray and green plaid pajama pants and a simple green tee. Seems Draco had been getting ready to settle down for the night. Sure, it wasn’t necessarily late, but it was nearing that time of the day where you don’t want to do anything but eat dinner and rest.

            Finally, I processed the words in my head.

            “Pssssh … weird?” I muttered out. “Oh, no, no, no. That’s so completely norm—” I was interrupted by my dad walking between us grumbling something around the lines ‘dinner, code pink ponies.’ Which was never a good thing to hear from your father, but in my case, it was a bit worse. My dad wasn’t going crazy; no, it was far from that. My dad was giving us a warning. A darn good one too. Going wide eyed, I grab Draco’s hand and drag him to the dinner table. On the way we passed Devon, who was no longer in the joyful, jokester mood. It was dinner time. Code: Pink Ponies dinner time, to say the least.

            Shoving Draco into the chair next to mine, I take in the neatly placed silver wear and perfectly folded napkins. This—this was Code: Pink Ponies. An over-exaggerated dinner for the guest. And my mom, well, she goes a bit insane on these days. It seems she enjoys over working herself and slaving over a hot stove for four hours just to get these types of dinners prepared in time. That was just who my mom is. Anyway, shall I introduce you to the Codes?

            Code: FlutterBye – A holiday dinner. Expected to dress up, shut up, and sit down for the whole evening. Meal is classy, tasteless, and it's in your best interest to eat something beforehand.

            Code: Kinky-Chain – Found out by Devon (also name by him, couldn’t you tell?). Days were Mom doesn’t care or doesn’t have time and is mainly an ordered take-out meal. Meal is more than likely shoved into our hands. Can be eaten on the couch (for once).

            Code: Sun-Burn – Mostly used in the summer when Mom is “working.” Consists of regular meals, nothing fancy, aren’t allowed to leave table without excusing yourself and sure as hell are you going to eat your vegetables.

            Code: Pink Ponies – Only used when guests (such as in-laws, friends, and random important people) show up. Meal is classy, three coursed, and generally delicious. Expected to eat it even if you don’t like it (example: meatloaf). Aren’t allowed to talk loudly, have cell phone, answer home phone¸ or do anything inappropriate. Any clothing wear is excepted when the guest is a close friend. After the first three days of that guest staying, we return to Code: Kinky-Chain. If guest isn’t nearly as important as in-laws or close friends, food will be ill-consumable. Try not to eat too much of it or you will become sick afterward.

            Those are the Codes of the household. Everyone who comes over frequently has memorized them by now. Sad, isn’t it? They were the law now, these Codes. If we hadn’t set them up … my parents would probably be divorced, my brother would have been forced to marry Jennifer Linley last year, and I would be living with my dad, who might I say, is the worst cook.

            So, please, pretty please, Draco, don’t mess this up by talking.

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Love and fireworks,

unique-goddess