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Posted: Apr 20 2017, 01:31 AM
They were on it again. Of course they were, as there seemed to be a certain rule in those novels that at least every six pages there had to be a overly heated scene between the female protagonist and the old as balls vampire, describing things that sounded highly unsanitary and made Dracon raise a brow when he flipped the page - or more, he turned it slowly, because he did not want to rush his reading. By now he knew that the female protagonist - Kira, like Simba’s daughter, or what had her name been? He started to mix things up when getting bored - would end up either crying or screaming, but would be very happy about it. Something told him that the author was most likely a man disguising himself with a woman’s name, because he doubted that girls were really into that kind of stuff. If he would openly admit to reading vampire romance novel - which was just thinly veiled smut, let’s all be real here - he would have endless discussions with people about everything that was wrong in this novel, starting at the plot and ending at...well, the plot as well. The plot was the problem here, because he could barely find it.
The boy reached out with a careless gesture and pushed his glasses back up on his nose, adjusting his comfortable reading position on the couch in the Gryffindor common room: feet on the table, back against the cushions, his hair a dark mess he had somehow wrestled in a messy bun on the back of his head, two pencils keeping it all in place. The only reason why he dared reading such books - with rather indecent covers, too, he should have known what he was getting himself into - in public was the fact that the common room was lying abandoned at this time of the day, and he could indulge in his guilty pleasure of reading these novels. Eternal Kiss of Darkness, what a witty title for a vampire novel, he was going to put it onto his list of shitty titles. In fact, Drake had a small notebook with notes about everything that was wrong with these novels - he was not kidding when he said he read them for science.
One day, he might just write one of these novels as well, while avoiding every clichée he had figured out so far. This time - the time when they were on it again, you remember? - it was an ancient vampire (lame) from Egypt (been there, done that, read the Vampire Chronicles by Anne Rice) who was sick of his existence (how original) and has an archenemy (don’t we all?). But of course, the female protagonist (with some unexplained supernatural power, of course) comes in his life (if you can call this a life) and once more, love changes everything and heals his suicidal thoughts (not even John Green approves of this any more). The enemy (also some ancient Egyptian vampire, every dude in Egypt was apparently secretly a vampire) of course kidnaps the vampire’s love interest (because clearly some ass old vampire doesn’t have cooler treasures than his fling he met like two days ago) and somewhere in the process, she becomes a vampire too. That, my dear children, was classic literature. Not.
Drake’s hand wandered towards his hair and pushed a single dark strand back behind his ear before he slowly turned another page. This was his kind of afternoon entertainment, and there was no time to eat or drink or care about the sound of the Fat Lady’s portrait swinging open because he intended to finish this book today, a sardonic smile on his lips. Oh, the little joys in life. He was going to have a lot to note down later, once he had finished this crap.