When Summer Ends

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Draco Malfoy was bored out of his fucking mind.

Yes yes that was quite ironic, given his situation. But he couldn't help it. Sweating and having his hair drenched really wasn't his thing.

It was something you'd expect from a Weasel or.. Potter.

Even in the situation he was in, he managed to roll his eyes at the meer mention of that.. insufferable little git.

Though the person he had just finished duelling, a Death Eater called Trenton Blackstone, didn't take that too well and glared up at the oblivious blonde.

'Fucking Potter,' He thought bitterly, scowling.

The Death Eater paled ever so slightly, thinking that this burst of random anger was directed towards him, and obediently looked back down at the floor in defeat.

This little.. thing has been going on for quite some time.
In fact it had started way back in his 4th year of Hogwarts, and he had only been progressively getting better.

The thing being that his father, Lucius Malfoy, had conducted what he called "playdates."
In these, so-called "playdates," he was put against certain Death Eaters.

Those that he deemed "worthy" of duelling a Malfoy were put up against either himself, or his father.

More times than not though they first were sent off to him.

Mainly due to the fact that, no matter the age, wizards and witches from anywhere just couldn't turn down a request to fight the "Dark Prince," or whatever the fuck they referred to him as.

Honestly it was fun at first, but now it was just a way that Draco passed the time.

If anything, the days seemed to pass even slower than usual. What with the insufferable heat and the constant bugging of everyone asking him to get the dark mark.

If Draco had a choice, he wouldn't have even gotten anywhere near the dark arts.
He just couldn't stand the way it.. chilled him whenever he used them.

Though it's not like he'd ever tell his father that. His father seemed quite fond of the fact that Draco could use the dark arts so easily.
Like it came to him as easily as one could breathe air.

But he shook that thought off, looking back down at the Death Eater under him.

Almost as though he felt his gaze on him, Blackstone looked up and grimaced. He forced a smile and stood up, wiping off himself before shaking Draco's hand.

Draco studied the Death Eater. He was tall, in a lanky sort of way, with a bit of a hunch and a hooked nose. His hair was quite long, like a mullet. Honest he would've been quite attractive if it wasn't for the empty look in his eyes.
And they were directed at Draco right now.

"I will look forward to our next one," he muttered, squeezing a little too hard for Draco's taste.

Nodding coldly, the blonde pulled his hand away, wiping it on his robes in disgust, and straightened his back after he heard the Death Eater close the door.
'He's probably gonna go cry to my father about his lost,' the blonde thought, smirking at the thought.

Almost as quickly as the smirk appeared on his face, it disappeared when he heard the door to the  back open, and he ran a hand through his hair out of habit.

"Hello mother," Draco said  politely, not looking behind him.

"Draco." She replied firmly, her voice on edge.
She sounded anxious, and Draco seemed to straighten even more at the thought.

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