A Mandatory Alliance Chapter Three

A Mandatory Alliance

By: Provocative Envy

OOO

CHAPTER THREE

To: A Deranged Skitso Obsessed With Baking

Let’s get some things straight, O-One-Who-Fears-Chiropractors.

First, don’t lecture me about “disrespecting” my father. I wasn’t exaggerating when I commented upon his various levels of insanity. The man actually is legally demented. In fact, now that I think about, you and him should really meet. I just know he’d love you. You two could bake muffins and play ping-pong all day long and make babies that have severe personality disorders. Ha. I think I may throw up.

Second, I don’t care about your neuroticism and hatred of your mother. Frankly, I think it would be better for the world if you just killed the woman so she couldn’t break people’s backs, or whatever it is she does. Indeed, if I were you I’d be tempted to lock her in a closet for the rest of her natural existence. Which wouldn’t be long, seeing as though she’d starve to death in a closet without food or water. Or, if she just happened to be in a closet with food, she’d get very fat from lack of exercise and die anyways since her arteries would get clogged or she’d simply not fit in the closet any longer. See what happens to obese people? They die.

Anyways, back to my point. I have no desire whatsoever to bond with you through our fruitless correspondence, seeing as that you actually defended my pyromaniac/irrational/emotionally disturbed father. I may be the son of an unreasonable ass, but I’ll be damned if I’m labeled the unreasonable ass. He’s ten times worse than me, which is saying a lot. Oh and that reminds me: don’t presume to insult my kindness and goodwill towards the remainder of the human population. If you recall, I told you in my first letter that I was a slimy git who most of my school wishes would suffer from spasmodic convulsions. (They mainly wish I would suffer from spasmodic convulsions for two reasons: a) so they can point and laugh at me; b) so they can nurture the dream that during one of these seizures I get maimed by a candlestick and bleed to death.)

Ahem. I have a proposal for you: since it’s mandatory that we write these BLASTED letters, I recommend that we put empty pieces of parchment in the envelopes, rather than actually bother to talk about stuff. Agreed? Agreed. Have a nice life, you psychotic fun-hinderer.

From: Someone Who Wants You To Be Attacked By Evil Flobberworms

P.S. I have a tiny little suggestion for you. Your mother? The one whom your obviously bitter about since she kicked you out when she found out you weren’t normal? (Not that she had to discover you were a witch for that to happen.) Yeah, well I think you should reconcile with her. Since she’s one of those mad muggle doctors, and you’re an obviously unhinged, fucked-up-in-the-head retard, you’d appear to get along smashingly. So go talk to her about your “problems” and maybe she’ll take you back. I think you desperately need the medical care.

OOO

Draco Malfoy glared at the back of Hermione Granger’s head all through breakfast, and then all through Transfiguration, and then all through lunch, charms, and Care of Magical Creatures, before either of his two lackeys noticed.

“Hey, Draco? Why do you keep staring at the Mudblood?” Goyle asked stupidly, scratching his “sophisticated goatee” as his slowly blinking eyes traveled from Draco to Hermione.

“I don’t know, Goyle,” Draco replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes at his “friend’s” idiocy.

“Is it because you’re tormented by visions of her in tasteful lingerie with sleep-tousled hair and want to make mad, passionate love underneath the starlit sky? And then film it?” Crabbe suddenly asked, completely and out of nowhere. There was a beat of silence, and then, “I don’t know where that came from. Must have been reading too many of Mum’s magazines over the summer,” Crabbe mumbled, kicking over a rock with his shoe and inspecting the grass underneath it.

“Whatever. Goyle, in answer to your question, I’ve been spearing the chit with my murderous gaze all day because I hate her and want her to be dissected alive by violent unicorns,” Draco said dully, slightly mollified by his outburst.

“Oh.”

“Wait a tick. Crabbe, did you just say you were reading over the summer? I had no idea you were literate,” Malfoy exclaimed in astonishment, turning his attention to Crabbe for the first time all day.

“Yep,” Crabbe responded proudly, his head bobbing up and down as he grinned broadly at his leader.

“Wonders will never cease,” Draco said faintly, shaking his head at the knowledge that Crabbe had probably learned his new skill through women’s magazines. “So, Crabbe, exactly how do you get a guy to climax before you?”

Much to Draco’s chagrin, Crabbe actually answered.

OOO