#nokia3310

What Happens if Nokia 3310 is Crushed With a Hydraulic Press?

You can see how much pressure the Nokia 3310, once the most durable and robust phone, can withstand under the hydraulic press. Do you think the old phones were durable or the new phones are flimsy?

“Good morning, Mother.” Draco dutifully kisses Narcissa’s proffered cheek before seating himself in the chair to her right. “Where’s Lucius?”.

Narcissa shrugs her elegant shoulders. “Your father skipped breakfast in favour of uselessly threatening that large peacock that continues to defy him by roosting on the roof of the conservatory; apparently it is ‘taunting him from the window of his study with deliberate malice’. I assume he is still outside, waving his cane and yelling dire insults at the creature.” She folds in her lips to hide her tolerant smile.

“At King Blizzard? He’s wasting his breath; that arrogant bird has had Lucius’s measure for years,” Draco chuckles, filling his plate with scrambled eggs, bacon, herbed mushrooms and hot buttered toast. Ruibby nods approvingly from her position beside the dining table.

“Well, every man needs a hobby, doesn’t he?” Narcissa counters. “I’ve suggested he take up philately, but he claimed he’d rather shout at poultry.”

The image of Lord Lucius Malfoy bent diligently over a stamp album makes Draco laugh unreservedly, which in turn brings an indulgent smile to Narcissa’s lips. She ceases nibbling at her marmalade-spread piece of toast to enquire, “How are you feeling, mon fils? Were you able to attain some rest? It must be strange for you… sleeping back in your old room.” Without Hermione.

“You know I heard your last thought, Mother – you may as well just speak it, next time.” Draco resigns himself to a maternal sermon. He applies himself to his breakfast, surprised that his appetite has returned with vigour.

“You have not answered my questions, Draco,” Narcissa prods. “Well?”

“I feel… I feel like a weight has been lifted,” Draco slowly admits. “I’ve been dreading the world knowing of my struggle for so long… I built it up overmuch in my head, I suppose. It’s a relief to let go of that fear.”

“Mmm. I think that finally telling Hermione the truth has also freed you of a heavy burden, yes? You were petrified she would leave you… instead, she claimed you for her own and has vowed to cut a swathe through your enemies.”

“Hermione is intensely loyal,” Draco agrees.

Narcissa fixes him with a shrewd gaze. “Loyal, yes; but you do not credit how deeply she cares for you, my son. No, don’t demur: Hermione Granger is passionately, fiercely in love with you, Draco. You would have to be blind to miss the devotion writ across her face whenever she so much as looks in your direction.”

Hunching his shoulders in an ineffectual attempt to hide his crimsoned face, Draco pretends a great interest in his last rasher of bacon…’