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Draco was confused. "Father?" He asked, brow slightly furrowed.
"Bowling nights? You mean that muggle sport where they roll large
stone balls around and try to knock over apothecary jars?" This
didn't sound like much fun to him. Quidditch, of course, was his main
sport. And this "bowling" game didn't sound anything as exciting as
his sport of choice.
"And of course it's about good looks! That's what you've always told
me, Father!" Draco grinned, showing off his cute, slightly misaligned
teeth. Then he thought. He loved being taken anywhere by his father,
but it wasn't always that fun. Sure, he enjoyed listening to him and
his business associates, or whomever, but sometimes the whole affair
would rather bore him. But there was one thing that never ceased to
amuse him...
"Are you sure we can't go Muggle torturing? It is right old fun, eh,
Father?" Draco awaited the praise he was sure to get from his father
for showing his hatred of Muggles. He knew how much his father loved
that side of him...