1440: My Bleeding Crimson Despair – Chapter 2Posted: June 10, 2016
Hello, and welcome back to another chapter of MBCD! A lot of stuff involving things happened last time; an
unwanted kitten little orphan girl I’m calling KaytSue was adopted by the family in first house she stumbled across, which just happened to be where Harry and Ginnie Potter lived. Time-skip forward to KaytSue, now a super-hot fifteen-year-old who dresses inappropriately for her age and has mood rings for eyes, is on her way to another year at Hogwarts. On the train she meets up with her friends Ian and Chuck, the twin sons of Ron and Hermione. The chapter ends with some less-than-subtle hints that this year will be “different” is some way. As if there’s ever been a normal year of school at Hogwarts.
On to the chapter!
Well, I pretty much had this chapter all ready to go, so here it is! I hope that you like it. It features Draco! He’s sooooo sexay! And we start edging towards that M rating, so we’ve got a bit of language. Not much, though, really. Hope you like it! Read and review!
Given the author’s username, it would be odd if Draco didn’t make an appearance at some point. When I first saw the summary I kind of assumed that this would be one of those fics where Draco and Harry are married and the protagonist/SI Sue would be their daughter.
Chapter Two: A Frenzied Battle Against Chaos
So far, the chapter titles are the most dramatic part of the fic.
The years had not been kind to Draco Malfoy. Dealing with his mother’s death and his father’s cowardly retreat had been hard.
:flips through source materials:
Yeah, that didn’t happen.
So much sorrow had driven him to switch sides and join the Order of the Phoenix, playing a crucial role in the Dark Lord’s downfall.
Technically Draco does play a role but he’s not as central to Voldemort’s downfall as say, Neville Longbottom.
Afterwards, though, no one had wanted to hire a former Death Eater, no matter how heroic he had acted during the war. Draco had been forced to crawl back to the one place he had never wanted to see again: Hogwarts.
Does he even need a job? The Malfoys are supposed to be a very old, very wealthy family. His father worked at the Ministry of Magic, but I always thought that was more of a power thing than for any sort of financial gains.
Forced to swallow his pride, Draco had accepted a position as the Flying professor and Quidditch coach. But that meant that every day at breakfast, he would have to see the one person he hated the most…Potter…
I hope he means “every day” as in “every day he’s at Hogwarts”. If would be kind of weird if Draco went to Harry and Ginnie’s house every morning during vacations and holidays just to have breakfast.
Not to mention having to teach Potter’s daughter.
Do fifth years still take flying lessons? I remember Harry taking them during his first year, but not after that. Surely someone as perfect as KaytSue doesn’t still need lessons in flying.
Draco knew that there was something strange about Kaytlynn Potter.
Well, yeah. She looks like a supermodel and her eyes are constantly changing color. I think that qualifies as strange.
He would have bet his tightest leather pants and his blackest nailpolish on it.
It’s really hard for me to maintain the illusion that I consider this a legitimate fic when the author blatantly uses tropes such as a literal Draco in Leather Pants. Not that I find the idea of Tom Felton in leather pants to be abhorrent in any way …
Sorry, my mind drifted off for a minute.
That was why he fixed his eyes on her as he stood to deliver his yearly poem.
Or at least, that’s what he’s telling himself.
Wait a second – “yearly poem”? Seriously?
McGonnagal, the headmistress, had allowed him this one honor at least. In addition to the Sorting Hat’s song, one of Draco’s poems was performed each year.
Why? Just … why?
He knew that it was because she felt sorry for him; still, it made him feel better to have an audience other than an unwilling publisher that kept refusing him.
The hell? I know it’s traditional to torture students by inflicting poetry on them, but to do so straight out of the gate? That seems unnecessarily cruel. And it’s not even his subject – he’s the Flying professor, not the Literature professor. As far as I know, Hogwarts doesn’t even offer traditional subjects like Literature.
He cleared his throat and glared around at the students. Many of the girls (and boys)
were besotted with his silvery hair and stormy gray eyes.
I applaud your effort to make his appeal all-inclusive, but NO AUTHOR’S NOTES IN THE NARRATION!
But he hated them all. Draco knew that no one could ever quench the fiery resentment that burned in his heart.
I felt the same way after the Library’s Chili Cook-Off before Bifocals figured out a way to make a Tums milkshake.
“This is a poem that I wrote,” he said, “about how much I hate life.”
Yes, this seems like a good subject matter for a poem to be read in front of impressionable children. Not that many of them see you as an actual person; hell, half of them probably think you live in the school year round and that your first name is Professor.
Hatred burns in me
Death has eaten all that I cared about
If all his poetry contains Death Eater references, that could explain why it was never published.
But before he could continue, the words changed in his mouth. Instead of his poem, other verses spilled from his tongue:
I’m a little teapot, short and stout?
But it shall consume so much more
The Dark One shall return
Only his blood can turn against him
Killing him once and for all
Many shall perish
Yet all must stand
A frenzied battle against chaos…
I’m going to call it now – KaytSue is the daughter of Voldemort even though she would have been born some time during the events of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, before Voldemort regained his corporeal form.
He sat down and clamped his mouth shut, shocked at what he had just said. Draco knew that Seer blood ran in the Malfoy family, but he had always thought that it had skipped over him. Apparently, he had been wrong.
It does? This is the first I’ve heard of it. If he does have “Seer blood” in his family and started spouting off cryptic nonsense, then this is cause for alarm.
The students were all giving him puzzled looks, especially Kaytlynn.
He rambles on about “the Dark One” and a frenzied battle and all it does is make the students confused? How bad is his poetry usually? And why isn’t he the Defense Against Dark Arts teacher? That’s usually where Hogwarts sticks the shady characters.
He realized that he had kept his gaze fixed on her through the whole prophecy. Why?
The Sue Force compels you!
Draco, he thought, I think that you may have gotten hit a little too hard in the war. You’ve got to be losing it. Buy yourself some new eyeliner. That will make you feel better.
I know the author is just trying to reinforce the Draco in Leather Pants stereotype, but it does make you feel better. I didn’t start wearing makeup regularly until about five years ago, but it is amazing the confidence boost a few smears of colored goo can give you. Also – stabbing yourself in the eye with a mascara wand hurts like hell, but then you cry black tears and can pretend you’ve been possessed by demons so it’s not entirely bad.
“What was that?” Potter muttered, leaning over.
Why are they sitting beside each other? I thought Draco hated Harry?
Draco scowled and rolled his eyes. “Poetry, you uncultured clod.” Although he knew that it would mean missing the Sorting Hat song, he couldn’t resist getting into a verbal battle with his old enemy.
Ghostie needs some help. Shinobi-san!
Bring me a large White Russian!
:ninja vanishes and reappears with a large, heavily-muscled albino man:
:facepalm: The drink, Shinobi-san. I meant the drink.
“Seemed more like crazy babble,” Potter replied.
It’s amazing how often bad poetry and crazy ramblings sound the same.
“Well, it’s better than anything that you could come up with. At least I can express myself like a civilized human being.”
So there! You big meanie-head!
Potter snorted. “Hah. The day that you’re civilized is the day I tap-dance with a chihuahua.
This is something that has always fascinated me about the Potter’verse. It is a universe where magic exists, so nothing is completely out of the question. How would that affect metaphorical language and the use of hyperbole? I don’t recall there being a lot of hyperbole used by the folks in the wizarding world, but I don’t know if this was a deliberate choice on Rowling’s part or if I’m just not remembering the details correctly.
Beneath the make-up and the leather pants, you’re nothing but a cowardly pansy.”
Dude, please. I’m already having a hard time focusing without you bringing up what’s beneath Draco’s leather pants.
“And you’re a bastard. Speaking of which, how’s your daughter?” Draco smirked, relishing the way that Potter’s jaw tightened.
Oh, HELL no. If someone talked about my hypothetical children like that, the next thing out of their mouths would be blood and broken teeth.
“She’s…just…fine…” Potter growled. “At least I have a family. No one can bear to settle down with you.”
In the source materials Draco does get married and even has at least one kid that I can recall, but maybe this version doesn’t want to. Not everyone’s lining up to ride the Marriage Rollercoaster, you know.
Huh. I guess he does.
Draco raised an eyebrow and searched for an appropriate comeback. “Let’s just say that…I haven’t found the right person to settle down with yet. It’s not from lack of offers, I can assure you.”
“Right,” replied Potter, now wearing a smirk to match the one that Draco had dropped. “I’m sure that one day, you and Snape will be very happy together.”
Forever, in a zombified state as they quietly decompose together throughout eternity.
… Y’know, there’s probably a fanfic or fanart for that, but I’m not looking for it.
Before Draco could get another word in, the Sorting Hat had finished and the feast had appeared. He decided to concentrate on his food instead of Potter. It was much more rewarding.
I don’t blame him, that exchange was far from satisfying, but if he turns to food for comfort he isn’t going to fit into those leather pants for very long.
At Another Table
Thanks, that’s super-helpful.
Kaytlynn, Ian, and Chuck were greatly enjoying their feast when they were interrupted by a visitor from another table.
:groans: Great, I bet this is another over-exaggerated caricature of one of the original characters.
“Hey, dumbasses. I couldn’t find you on the train, so I thought I’d come and sit with you.” These words came from a short, somewhat chubby girl with short brown hair. She would have been pretty if her gray eyes hadn’t been hidden behind thick rectangular glasses.
Oooh, I like her!
“I resent being called a dumbass,” Ian replied. “I’ll have you know that the Sorting Hat considered putting me in Ravenclaw—”
“Hello, Eve,” Kaytlynn said, cutting off Ian’s protests. “How are things at the Slytherin table?”
Awww, nertz. Why is the only good character thus far in Slytherin?
Eve rolled her eyes and plopped down next to Chuck. “The usual. ‘Smite this, smite that, let’s summon demons from the great beyond, that’ll show those stupid Gryffindors’.
Dammit, why can’t she be the main protagonist?
Quite boring, really. Are you going to eat that?” The question was directed at Chuck, as she pointed at the piece of cherry pie in front of him.
She has terrible taste in pies, but every character needs a flaw.
“King crab!” Chuck answered.
Great, Chucklefuck is still doing that “scream random food items” thing.
“He means ‘No, go ahead and take it,'” Ian translated. “Don’t you have some first years to terrorize?”
“I thought that I would hang around with my favorite idiots—er, I mean, Gryffindors.” She dug into the pie heartily. “So, what do you think about Professor Pansy-boy’s poem?”
Seriously, who else would rather follow Eve around for a few chapters? Show of hands.
“You mean Professor Malfoy?” Kaytlynn asked. “I thought it was beautiful. It spoke to my soul…seemed to reverberate for some reason…Although I don’t know why…”
Ian answered, “Maybe it’s because you write similar, although quite superior, poetry?”
But of course! That has to be the reason! No one else in the world can write as well as y… :gags:
Sorry, I can’t finish that thought without making myself sick.
“Perhaps…” Kaytlynn said. “But I can’t help feeling that there’s something more to it…”
Draco starts mumbling about Dark Ones and blood and battles and no one thinks it is odd? Seriously, how bad is his normal poetry?
It’s like you’re painting a picture with words!
In a dark cemetery in a dark wood, a group of dark figures gathered with a dark purpose.
… Are they raising Voldemort from the dead, or Jafar? Because that sounds exactly like a line from the beginning of Aladdin.
It had taken years to prepare for what they were about to do, but they were finally ready.
Approximately ten years, if my math is right.
One by one, they made their sacrifices, grinning in anticipation of what they would receive in return…
Please be a pony!
Fog rolled in from the horizon, bringing a thunderstorm with it. Long silvers of lightning struck down trees.
I don’t think lightning works like that.
One especially long bolt hit the center of the stone altar that the figures were circled around.
Either that’s a really tall altar, or all these mysterious figures just got fried.
Smoke curled up gently after the storm had moved on, forming into a familiar symbol.
Option B it is. And since the “familiar symbol” isn’t described, I’m gonna picture the BatSignal. Because everything’s better with Batman.
A new leader was sprawled on the altar now.
Ewww. No one’s going to want to use that altar after you’ve rubbed your bits all over it.
Seeing his loyal followers, gathered and ready to assist him, he began to smile. Deep into the night, a high, cold laugh echoed through the woods…
Mysterious Leader finds your devotion to him laughable.
I assume this is meant to echo the ceremony that eventually gave Voldemort a body, but with such a vague description it is equally possible that these mysterious cultists just summoned a demon or awakened an Elder God. I’ll let you decide which you would prefer.