draconianmalfoyâ:
@milbulstrodeâ / 21 june 2004
Out of everyone in his friend group, Millicent Bulstrode was the one person Draco felt the least close to.Â
He wished he could say it wasnât her fault that they were so distant, but Draco wouldnât be able to say that without outright lying. Millicent never did anything to him specifically, but she always was a bit too⌠odd for Dracoâs taste. Always looking at him strangely, always making him feel like he was being watched. He swore one day she took out a tape measure and actually measured his head, but no one believed him when he said as much.Â
Her general creepiness kept Draco at a distance, but Millicent was still part of his friend group. For better or for worse, she was one of them, and he did his best to move past the creepiness to keep his group at peace when every other part of his life was on the brink of shambles. That didnât mean Draco had to be overly friendly with her, though; pleasantries were more than enough. That was why, when he came across Millicent at the gala, Draco put on a tight smile and actually bothered to interact with her.Â
âMillicent. Have you actually managed to not cause chaos this evening, or should I expect it later on?â
⌠Pleasantries didnât mean he couldnât pass a few scathing remarks.Â
Millicent didnât mind Draco Malfoy. In spite of his lackluster and rude personality, she might even have enjoyed his company sometimes. But never had she felt anything more than a tense and distanced âfriendshipâ to him, not that sheâd ever made any exerted effort to extend her companionship any more than he had.
Notwithstanding their relationship (or lack of one, she supposed), sheâd long laid claim to his head. Millicent was quite keen on keeping Dracoâs head for herself when somewhere down the road, he no longer had use for it. Something about the way his face had formed made him the shining candidate for a rather lovely specimen of shrunken head. And it wasnât that sheâd ever kept her want for his head secret, per se, as she had asked anyone who might have an idea of what Dracoâs plans for his body were after death. The answers were always mumbled, âI donât know,âs, dodgy eyes, and quick exits from the conversation thereafter. Nothing useful. But Millicent knew her time would come.
After all, were they all not coming nearer to death everyday?
Spending an entire evening of being pursued and hiding and having conversations continually interrupted had been exhausting work, meaning sheâd eventually found a wall to press herself up against and simply watch the crowd from, as opposed to being forced to be apart of it. Her lids had softly closed, breath slowed against the wall as she took the quick repose and tried to bask in her own silence for several moments. Tried.Â
Her name spoken just beside her opened her eyes, a soft groan of discontent rolling off her tongue as she accepted her fate of, apparently, being the belle of the ball - would she ever not be sought out?
But this was Draco, she realized after a moment. Draco wasnât full of energy. He wouldnât drag her off somewhere, and it seemed no one was following him. Perhaps this wouldnât be so bad.
âIâm not the one causing trouble; itâs everyone else making me an accessory to their troubles. Are you here to join in?â she retorted as she lifted from the wall, offering a barely sipped glass of champagne to him. âOr should we start our own chaos? Iâm open to any and all.â













