castoutmalfoy (castoutmalfoy) wrote in snitchers, @ 2018-02-26 21:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | !backstory, char: draco malfoy |
Who: Draco Malfoy and Tinworth Residents
Where: Tinworth boarders
When: Backdated - Friday 23rd February – late night
Rating: Medium
Status: Incomplete
Draco was drunk, but that had become the norm over the 9 days. Being asked to leave by Susan had hit him hard. He didn’t want to feel the emotions so he found the best way to dull them out was to drink and drink and drink. His anger at the situation had been festering deep within his mind and he blamed his father. It was entirely his fault for attacking the quidditch match. That was what had brought him home, which was the reason he had gone to Susan in the first place. He needed to do something; he didn’t know what just yet, but something.
Slamming his glass down on the bar, Draco ordered yet another double fire whiskey. He had taken to visiting different bars around the country, some muggle and some wizarding, to ensure that he didn’t get thrown out straight away. Anything was suitable at the moment, but whiskey and other spirits were definitely top of Draco’s drinks list.
Staring into space as he took hold of his refilled drink, Draco contemplated his next move. Did he go back to the continent or was there a better option? Maybe there was something that would give his miserable existence this week a reason. Tinworth; that was the first thought that came to his mind once more.
Setting his glass down more calmly this time, Draco stood up, taking a moment to gather his bearings before he shrugged on his leather jacket. Slipping his wand from the holster on his arm Draco walked out into the cold night air. Stepping into the small alley at the side of the pub, Draco closed his eyes and thought long and hard about where he needed to go. Tinworth, Tinworth, Tinworth. He chanted the destination in his mind, fixed on going to the place where he could confront one of his biggest problems. His father.
Travelling by appiration was not easy to get used to when you were sober, let alone when the majority of what you had consumed in a week was alcohol. At this point, Draco didn’t care whether or not he got splinched. Thankfully, Draco only landed with a stumble, though the contents of his stomach were viciously rolling; remind him of the ocean of liquor he had consumed. Draco could feel the magic thick in the air; he had obviously landed not far from the wards. He knew from experience that his fathers wards could be lethal and Draco would not be taking any chances.
Looking around in the darkness, Draco managed to make out a few stones on the ground, bending down, wobbling as he did so, he scooped up several of the stones. He started to toss them at where he thought the wards were until he found a spot that repeatedly bounced the stones back towards him.
Taking a deep breath Draco lifted his wand; if he knew one way to get his father’s attention it was to attack the wards. A defiant look slipped onto his features as Draco let the curses fly.