Another Box Of Kittens? |Hiatus|

Chapter 5: Disappearance At Malfoy Manor

(Upcoming rant. You may skip if you want, I wouldn't mind nor blame you :) )

SO, THINGS ARE GETTING WORSE FOR ME, HUH? GUESS WHO'S BEEN SPREADING RUMOURS ABOUT ME, SAYING THAT I'M A DOMESTIC ABUSER AND NARCISSIST? My ex-girlfriend, that's who. I'm so mad that I've changed her contact info to "Lying Tramp". A bit much, I know, but I don't care anymore. The name is true for her. I have never been so angry in all my life as I have in that moment- to the point where my hands were shaking and my face was bright red. 

If you know me in real life, it would be impossible to call me a narcissist. I'm far too awkward and critical of myself to be one. I certainly was not ever a domestic abuser since I was trying my best to help her with her own situation at home, completely disregarding my own mental ell-being and needs. Because of that, the whole period of time I've been with her, my grades have gone down quite a bit (still pretty good but not what they used to be) and I've been crying myself to sleep and doing certain things to myself. I had changed so much as a person because of her and this is the thanks I get after around nine months? Yeah, no thanks.

If you're reading this, my dear ex-girlfriend, then I hope that you're happy. I hope that your pathetic little life has been fulfilled. And how dare you try to turn people at school against me? What's the point of that? Since breaking up with you, a lot more people who previously disliked me has been talking to me a lot friendlier and I'm actually able to talk to people I like without you getting in the way, chasing them off because you didn't like them. You know who I'm talking about.

Also, if you have ripped up all those drawings already (you probably have), then I am disappointed in you. Those took days for me to draw for you. If you haven't already and you are indeed reading this, I would like them back. Grow a pair of balls for once in your life and face me, give them to me, then do whatever it is you want to do.

(Rant over)

I'm so sorry about that, I just needed to get at least a tiny bit of what's been going on off of my shoulders. Please enjoy this chapter, I have tried my best to force myself to write this next chapter for you- my lovely sunflowers.

"I know 'e's swollen, ma'am, but it's 'im!" piped up Scabior. "If you look a bit closer, you'll see 'is scar. And this 'ere, see the girl? The Mudblood who's been travelling around with 'im, ma'am. There's no doubt it's 'im, and we've got 'is wand as well! 'Ere, ma'am--"

Harry saw Narcissa Malfoy scrutinising his swollen face. Scabior thrust the blackthorn and at her. She raised her eyebrows.

"Bring them in," she said. Harry and the others were shoved and kicked up broad stone steps, into a hallway kicked with portraits.

"Follow me," said Narcissa, leading the way across the hall. "My son, Draco, is home for his Easter holidays. If that is Harry Potter, he will know."

The drawing room dazzled after the darkness outside, even with his eyes almost closed Harry could make out the wide proportions of the room. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, more portraits against the dark purple walls. Two figures rose from chairs in front of an ornate marble fireplace as the prisoners were forced into the room by the Snatchers.

"What is this?"

The dreadfully familiar, drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy fell on Harry's ears. He was panicking now: he could see no way out, and it was easier, as his fear mounted, to block out Voldemort's thoughts, though his scar was still burning.

"They say they've got Potter," said Narcissa's cold voice. "Draco, come here."

Harry did not dare look directly at Draco, but saw him obliquely: a figure slightly taller than he was, rising from an armchair, his face a pale and pointed bur beneath white-blond hair. Greyback forced the prisoners to turn again so as to place Harry directly beneath the chandelier.