Chapter 3 : Clisk Malfoy
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Disclaimer: I don't own anyone except the lovely Prudence in this chapter.
I dedicate this to Shar. She’s a VERY great writer, as everyone knows! ;) I would like to take this opportunity to tell everyone out there to go read her latest fic, You Will Cry for Me!
Clisk shoved his Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts books into his bag, and slung the left strap over his shoulder. He was about to leave when he was stopped by a girl with a turned up nose like a pug’s, and very short, green hair.
“Clisk Malfoy. So, we’ve finally met, then?” She said. “I’m Prudence Parkinson. Mother has told me all about you, of course. She dated your father when they were in school, did she not?” She stuck out a hand, and Clisk took it uncertainly.
“Yes. I’d love to stick around and chat, but I don’t want to be late for Transfiguration. Mother said that if I was late for another of Black’s classes again, she wouldn’t let me play Quidditch any longer,” he slipped past her, and out of the Slytherin common room.
Five minutes later, he was in his first class of the day, taking out his book. “You’re late, Mr. Malfoy,” said the professor of this class, without looking up from his teachers’ book.
“Sorry—” he said. He did not sound very sorry at all.
“No, ‘sorry’ won’t work this time. That is the seventh time in the past two weeks that you have been late for my class. Detention on Friday night. Be in my office by eight o’clock,” he looked up to see Clisk’s already pale face go, if possible, paler.
“But—” He sputtered.
“That’ll be enough, Malfoy,” Professor Black said, looking down at the book again.
“But, sir—” he pleaded. His mother would not approve of a detention because he was late again.
“I said enough ,” he looked up warningly. “Take your seat.”
Clisk slumped down in his chair between two boys called Nott and Avery. His mother would kill him. He would be lucky if that was not a literal statement.
“Now, if you would open your books to page 234…” Black said, standing.
Class passed by quickly. As usual, since he had been given his orders, Clisk was not on task. He heard Professor Black subconsciously, but not otherwise. His thoughts stayed on the Weasley girl he was to be watching. He had memorized her weekly schedule. Right now she was in Care of Magical Creatures with that giant-like oaf they called Hagrid. The bell rang. He was about to leave, when Black called him to his desk.
“What?” he said without thinking when he reached his desk.
“I know,” he said simply, and got up and walked away.
Clisk stood in the empty room. What did he mean? Could he, possibly, really know that Clisk was told to murder Jordyn Weasley? He dismissed the thoughts from his head, and walked out of the classroom, feeling scared for the second time in his life…
A/N: Review, or I’ll have your head! Grr! :)
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