no-one is catching on or calling my bluff / private

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; text-align: justify; font-family; font-size: 8pt]Draco sat up a little at this, chin lifting in an obvious display of sudden pride. " I'm a Malfoy. For the most part, I grew up in Wiltshire, England. My parents and I owned and lived in an entire manor. " he said this with an evident admiration; regardless of what he thought on the one hand, there was always that constant, nagging awe, as he held his parents - Lucius specifically - on a pedestal, viewing his father, particularly, with reverence.
" Our lands stretched for miles. We had everything anybody could want. What about you? Where do you come from? " it was clear, now, that he was boasting, purposely. He liked to rub his heritage in people's faces, even now. Even if it made his limbs tremble and his stomach ache; he'd still speak the way he did. He was far more apathetic now, though, surprisingly.
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; text-align: justify; font-family; font-size: 8pt]Malfoy made a sound. Two-storey. Then again, he'd recently lived in worse, and now he lived in BlizzardClan, so ... he'd fallen far. He was tempted to go back; now Malfoy Manor was back in Malfoy paws and all, but ... he'd run away from it because it was in Malfoy paws, not even because of the events between the Malfoys owning it.

It was strange. Draco pursed his lips, tipped his head downwards, then shrugged. A few moments later, he looked up at Neville, and spoke, leaning backwards and rolling his good shoulder in silent confidence. " Your grandmother? Granny Longbottom? " just to be clear, of course. Was it Granny Longbottom? Or did she have some strange maiden name that nobody would likely pay any attention to ... ever?
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; text-align: justify; font-family; font-size: 8pt]Draco arched a perfect, fictional brow at Neville's short outburst, and he likely would have steepled his fingers, had he had hands. That was an awfully personal thing to say to him, was it not? Never in a million years would he utter a bad word against his father in the presence of most people, partially because of that stubborn, Malfoy loyalty and partially because he half expected Lucius to apparate to his side and slap him silly (or, if he was feeling generous, punish him. With Neville likely still watching. That would be a social blackmail event Draco wished to avoid, and likely a traumatising sight Neville really wouldn't want to have to see. Either way, Draco would end up bloodied again and he'd have a lot of explaining to do to the inevitably newly mortified Longbottom).

" You ought to respect your elders, Neville. " Draco remarked, dragging a claw through the dirt, his voice a snarky drawl. " What would Granny Longbottom think to hear you say that? "
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; text-align: justify; font-family; font-size: 8pt]The male's clipped ears rose, and he sneered at the mumble. " I'd never want to live with her, if it meant I'd turn out like you. How do you not float away, with all that air in your head? " Draco interjected.

Turn him into a frog? Was that all? Admittedly, Draco wouldn't want to turn into a frog, himself, but he reckoned it would be temporary, and Neville would have been able to wipe away the slime afterwards and continue without the memories staining his skin. Draco? Unfortunately, the punishments delivered to him were never exactly without their scars. He could shrug them off, but they were still there.
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; text-align: justify; font-family; font-size: 8pt]" What's wrong, Longbottom? Too stupid to think of a comeback? " the male pushed onwards, watching Neville's expression and, in an instant, shutting down any potential empathy he might have felt. He was ... good at that, you see. Switching off. It made this easier, whatever it was.
Fuck, this was ridiculous. Malfoy didn't even derive pleasure from it, any more, so it was merely habit that kept him going. And who said habits couldn't be broken? His eyes stared across at Neville, whom had been effectively silenced, and wondered, briefly, if this was the point where he - he being the Longbottom, not Draco - walked away, or left, or threw a pot at him. Where he'd get the pot was a current blissful mystery, but Malfoy didn't doubt it could happen, potentially so.
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; text-align: justify; font-family; font-size: 8pt]Yeah, Draco thought grimly. I know.

Having been called that - and worse - enough times, Malfoy was well-versed in knowing what other people tended to think of him. Nothing was particularly bolstering; maybe a few of his Slytherin cronies had praised him, and maybe his parents had, but the sheer number of insults put against their fleeting compliments was enough to tip the vote out of his favour.

He'd taken to rather extreme methods of distracting himself from this, his volatile mind rather self destructive on its own, but he didn't let morons like Longbottom get him down, because their words were meant to mean nothing to him. They weren't meant to get to him, so he shut himself down before they could get him down. It was an effective method of coping, a mechanism that had worked so far, for the most part.

" I have a real arse, and that's pretty grand, " he murmured half to himself, under his breath, a sort of cruel jab at himself and his insecurities. Then, he lifted a shoulder in a shrug, eyes skittering between Neville and the floor. He had nothing to say to that, really.
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; text-align: justify; font-family; font-size: 8pt]Had Neville finally realised that for himself? Draco hadn't had to spell it out for him, nor had he had to stomp off himself; no, the male had come to the conclusion independently. It really looked like spending time with him raised people's IQs, because now Neville was functioning as if he possessed a brain and not an empty vacuum.

" Come to that conclusion yourself, Longbottom? " Malfoy uttered softly, and his voice was quiet, holding no malice.
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; text-align: justify; font-family; font-size: 8pt]Draco didn't have the energy to conjure malevolence. A numbness sat on his countenance, and he glanced at his feet, laughing quietly. It was a bitter laugh. Scornful, even. " Says the pacifist, willing to talk out any problem, regardless of what it is. " he murmured again. Did Neville intend to hit him? That'd be ... Gold. Gold, yes. He'd pay to see Neville hit someone, probably; he was unaware the other male had the guts.
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; text-align: justify; font-family; font-size: 8pt]Draco, on the other hand, sucked in a breath.

It was humorously reversed, now, his lineage being referred to as the dirt underneath Neville's paws, whereas once, the boy would have gladly jeered at the other's lack of pureblood status, something he'd always taken as the most important factor. It wasn't, but that was by the by. Draco had always been odd about it, sucked into his parents' political beliefs and warped to follow in the same way, carrying himself with a haughty countenance, because he had, for so long, truly believed that blood status meant everything. Perhaps he still did - old habits and thoughts died hard - but had he once mentioned Neville's lineage to purposely make fun of his nature?

' When it comes to dirtbags like you I don't really care. '

Draco wondered why he even bothered, sometimes. The world was fucked, and he'd dug himself a hole so deep there was no point in trying to climb out of it, even if he knew that one day, it'd be filled in and he'd be buried alive. Was climbing the steep walls and risking further injury worth it? Perhaps he'd be able to dig sideways and up in a steady slope, emerge out of a different tunnel. That would require months and months of effort, though, and it didn't matter what he did, how he behaved. To these people, people like Neville and Potter, he was just a Malfoy. And Malfoys were dirty, racist, horrid, cruel death eaters that held the belief that everybody that wasn't them was worthless.

' We shouldn't have even helped you. '

Malfoy turned this over in his head, mulling over Neville's words for a while.

' Should have just left you for dead, '

He reckoned his father would have appreciated that. Lucius Malfoy's precious son and heir, dead. He half wondered if the elder Malfoy would actually be pleased, knowing that his indecisive, defective son was dead. Perhaps. Perhaps not. Perhaps he was hoping that he could maybe win Draco back, salvage his lineage. Maybe he did just want it to be over and done with. If that was the case, he wondered if his mother would care, if she grieved. She'd seemed to unconditionally care about him, without any of the coldness of his father.

Draco decided that dying wasn't a smart option.

' After all, only Malfoys deserve the best. '

" Why are you still here, then? " he opted for saying, lifting his thoughtful eyes to Neville, rekindled defensiveness sparking in their depths. He'd touched a nerve - the Malfoy family - and Draco wasn't pleased, clearly. " We've both established that you hate me and I don't care enough to hate you, so why don't you just piss off? Haven't you got some plants to bother? "
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; text-align: justify; font-family; font-size: 8pt]No, he couldn't lie. That was his job, whether as a Slytherin or as a Malfoy.

' Because I want to see the good side of the Malfoys. '

Draco's eyes slammed back into the ground again, refusing to budge an inch as he mulled over this, just as he had mulled over Neville's previous words. The good side of the Malfoys? They had many positives, admittedly, but they were often hidden behind the prejudice, the racism, the narcissism - his mother's name was Narcissa, for crying out loud - or the bigotry, the haughtiness and the typical ' I'm-better-than-you ' attitude, and people tended to only see that.

They missed the ingenious, the stubbornness, the loyalty, the love, the driven passion, the determination to be the best - they were all Slytherins for a reason. They were smart, they were sly, and they wanted to reach the top of whatever it was they were willing to devote their time to. And when they did devote their time ... It was hard pressed to get a Malfoy to stop. One could easily lie and say they had no part in something, but that was only to escape punishment, because if there was one thing he knew, it was that punishment stopped one from achieving. And if victory meant untruthfulness, then so be it.

' I know it's in there somewhere, but it's definitely hidden some where so deep, you could call it the center of the earth. '

Draco hollowed his cheeks momentarily, fluttering long lashes whilst he thought, frowning for a second. Then he gathered up his pride and spoke. " The Malfoys are one of the last pureblood wizarding clans. We still hold a position of influence and wealth over our land and other lands beyond it, regardless of what others say. " he declared after a moment. " Which means we aren't stupid. Or gullible. Or desperate. " three positives right there. Three good sides. He was lying to himself though, now. Lucius had been desperate enough to become a death eater. Narcissa had been gullible enough to listen to Lucius.

He dragged his tongue over his teeth. " I kept it as brief as I could for your simpleton mind; have I preached enough bullshit for you now, Longbottom? Are we happy with our findings? "
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