guys ando is autistic

[Dr. Dos]

14 pages is plenty.

[Dr. Dos]

15

[Stak]

Guys

I have heard rumors that Ando may, in fact, be autistic

Can anyone confirm this

[Zenith Nadir]

well the test results aren't completed yet, but if the current trend is anything to go by, then yes, ando is definitely autistic.

also am i alone in feeling like this is turning into a bad knockoff of 'DRACULA IS COMING'

only with autism instead of dracula

[Dr. Dos]

Do I have time to watch the new Star Wars DVD?

[Ryan Ferneau]

...Yes, you definitely have enough time to watch the new Star Wars DVD before you get autism.

[nuero]

also am i alone in feeling like this is turning into a bad knockoff of 'DRACULA IS COMING'

only with autism instead of dracula

autism is coming

[http://yahoo.com/]

goddammit nuero i was about to say that

anyways make for the hills while you still can, i'll try to hold it (the autism) back

i'm getting vivid mental images of autism looking like the balrog

[Dr. Dos]

[Kjorteo]

That's not autism; that's Down's syndrome.

[nuero]

revvy gets a for helping in the cause of protection against the autism, as long as he holds my hand!

[Alexis Janson]

“What’s the matter with you!” Hermione slapped him smartly across the face. He stumbled backwards and sneered at her, his silver eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Nothing, Granger,” he laughed. He smoothed his hair back onto his head so it was pasted even more firmly. She looked ruffled, her bushy hair making her look like something of a bird. “I think you should apologizing for that right about now,” he sneered and spat on her feet. She glared at him, her hazel eyes burning.

“I’m not apologizing to you, you worthless maggot!” she screeched. He shook his head sadly. He poked her shoulder, sending a hot red poker of pain through her body. She whimpered and drew back.

“You forget, mud blood…I own you now,” he snickered and turned, walking out of the room. Hermione felt the tears coming.

“I will not cry,” she reminded herself out loud. She stared about her cage. It was actually a bedroom, but it felt like a jail cell. She had a dresser in which her clothes would remain, and a small bed that was as hard as a board to sleep on. She threw herself on it and buried her face in the pillow.
She was working for Malfoy.
She was living with Malfoy.
She was alone in the world, and had to deal with Malfoy.
Summer had just begun last week. Horrible things had happened. Luscious had gotten out of Azkaban, a thoroughly changed man. Only he had changed for the worse. How a man like Luscious Malfoy could get any more rotten, Hermione did not know. It wasn’t bad enough that he despised and tortured anyone who wasn’t a pure blood, and he hated those without money.
Now he was taking revenge on Harry Potter for sending him to prison.
But he didn’t dare hurt Harry.
So he hurt his friends.
She looked around the room, the window sealed shut. She didn’t dare use magic. Her only hope of making it out of this with her sanity was to make it back to Hogwarts.
How she was going to deal with Malfoy until then, she didn’t know.
She had been dragged kicking and screaming to the Malfoy Manor. She had been smacked for her disrespectful manner. Mr. Malfoy said that after such a tragedy had occurred she should be grateful that he had taken her under his wing.
She would have rather lived on the streets.

“Oh Mum… Dad…” she whispered and felt the tears rising. She had no family. She was alone. She was forbidden from staying with Ron and his family by the ministry.
They figured if a man escaped from Azkaban, he must be serious trouble. They were so frightened of him that they listened to almost every word that he said. They would not take Dumbledore’s position as headmaster of Hogwarts away again. He was the only protection they had against the Dark Lord.
So Mr. Malfoy had Hermione’s parents killed. Ron had too many relatives. Too many connections. Hermione was completely alone. No matter how hard anyone fought for Hermione. Dumbledore fought, but they said that he was too old and that he did not have the proper understandings of what a teenage girl needed. Mr. And Mrs. Weasley fought for her, but the ministry would not allow another child to be brought up in their home. They had too many children and were suffering. Fred and George, Bill, and Charlie all fought for custody, but they said that they were too young to take care of an almost adult witch. Hermione fought to live on her own, seeing as she was two years away from being an adult anyways. The ministry would not hear of it. The ministry found some reason for Hermione to stay out of the clutches of all of her friends, but found no reason that she couldn’t live and work for her keep in the home of every good wizard’s enemy.
Not worst enemy. That title was reserved for the Dark Lord.

Hermione would kiss Malfoy willingly if it meant that she was hurting the Dark Lord. Instead she had to fight him off. If she had to work for the horrid creatures she certainly wasn’t going to give Malfoy anything else to be smug about.
She stood and walked to the door. She tried to turn the handle but it was secures shut. She really was imprisoned. She had no contact with the outside world at all. She wanted her parents. She wanted to cry and have her mother wrap her arms lovingly around her. But no. Her parents were killed… Mr. Malfoy killed two dentists.
Hermione screamed, picking up her suitcase and chucking it at the door. It burst open and clothes fell everywhere. She fell to the floor and gathered them in her arms. Her mother bought her that scarf in Paris… she picked up the scarf and rubbed the soft fabric on her face. It was her only comfort. It was her piece of heaven while she was trapped in Hell.

Hermione opened her eyes as she heard clicking. Looking up she saw a very pathetic looking house elf. It rank of old laundry detergent and its sack was barely hanging on its thin body. It’s bones stuck out and its tomato nose was blotchy. Its ears reminded her of bat wings.

“Come, Miss Granger. My Master requests your presence,” he said in a very light and frightened voice.

“What’s your name?” Hermione asked with as much politeness as possible.

“Talon, miss. Come, we must not keep the master waiting,” Talon added, his wide eyes looking rather nervous. She stood and straightened out her white blouse and made sure her jeans were presentable. Just because she was to be a servant in his house did not mean that she was going to look or dress like… Talon. Anger filled her as she thought of how horribly it must be treated. She could see darkening on his skin from where he had been kicked or beaten. Mr. Malfoy would hear about this.

She followed Talon closely. Doors were spread about ten feet apart. How large were the bedrooms? How many bedrooms were there? She walked down a long set of spiral stairs, the wood glossy and fine. She stepped into the grand hall, the floor shining as if it had been polished only moments ago. She wouldn’t doubt it if someone said it had been. Talon quickened his pace and she did the same, following him into a grand dining room.
She gaped at the diamond chandelier than hung so splendidly from the ceiling. She couldn’t help but gaze at its beauty. Everything in the room seemed to sparkle. It was absolutely magnificent. It would have been perfect if the air inside hadn’t had such stiffness about it. She felt as if she even made one wrong move everyone would be disgusted with her.
I’m not a pureblood. They’re already disgusted with me. Luscious sat at one end of a ridiculously long dining table. His sleek white blonde hair was tied back tightly at the nape of his neck. He was paler than he had been when she last saw him, and the circles under his eyes reminded her that he had spent time in Azkaban, even if only for a week.
Narcissa sat at the other end, looking like a china doll. Only her lips were still drawn tight into a pucker and she had that disgusted look on her face. As if everything around her was revolting. Yet she barely moved. She really was like a china doll. Inanimate.
Malfoy sat in between them, alone on his own side of the table. Only his side was about ten feet long instead of three, as his parents were. Didn’t he get lonely sitting so far away from his parents?
That reminded her… he was a Malfoy. He had no feelings.

“Granger,” Luscious said in a bored tone. Hermione cast him a venomous stare.

“If you insist on referring to me by my last name, then its Miss Granger,” she spat. Luscious had an amused gleam in his eye.

“Draco was right… you do have quite a spirit to you,” he snickered. He then curled up his lip in distaste. “One that will do you well to be broken I might add.” Hermione didn’t lower her eyes from his icy stare.

“Maybe if you treat your house elves with respect, I’ll treat you with respect. Otherwise, you’re not worth manners,” Hermione growled, clenching her fists. Luscious stood up and walked towards her. He began to circle her, staring at her features. She looked over at Malfoy who puckered his lips in an air kiss. She grimaced.

“You have quite a spirit to you, Granger. You aren’t exactly a wench, either.” He ran his fingers along her face. “Nice cheekbones, full lips, bright and… stubborn eyes,” she pulled away from his touch.

“You disgust me,” she growled at him. She screamed as he brought his hand across the side of her face. Pain shot through her face and she felt her skin begin to swell.
I will not let him see me cry. I will not back down.

“You will treat your betters with respect, mud blood,” Luscious snarled. Hermione looked up at him, staring directly into his icy eyes.

“If you are referring to yourself as my better than you are stupid as well as grotesque,” she said calmly. Luscious’ lips curled up into a horrid grin.

“I’m going to have fun breaking you down,” he said with a snicker. He looked directly at Talon who cowered away. “She will go without supper. Maybe that will teach you obedience, you filthy mud blood,” he said as he turned and walked back to the table. Hermione walked up to Luscious and took his glass of wine in her hand. She looked at the crystal, then at Luscious. He stared at her patiently. “Remember Granger, what you do now will affect how you’re treated in my home,” he warned. She poured the wine over his head, staining his white blonde hair the color of cherries. It ran down his face in a cold flood. She leaned in close and hissed to him, loud and crisp.

“You may scare the ministry into silence… you may even scare your own wife and son into obedience… but you do not scare me,” she hissed and turned around quickly walking out of the dining room. On her way out she dropped the crystal wine glass and smirked as she heard it shatter.

“Lock her in her bedroom,” Luscious snarled to Talon.

“Yes master,” he said with a shaky voice and ran after Hermione in pure fear.

Hermione woke the next morning to the sound of a key turning in her door and her stomach growling. God she was so hungry. She hadn’t slept well at all. The bed was hard and she heard awful noises in the middle of the night. Her hair was everywhere, and she yawned. She grabbed her brush and quickly ran it through her hair. The door opened and Malfoy stood there. She rolled her eyes. He shut the door behind him.

“Hello, Granger,” he snickered. He tucked the key in his pocket. She looked at him.

“What in god’s name do you want?” she asked stubbornly. He tossed her a small white roll, pathetic. Still, the gesture was sort of nice. “What was that for?” she asked.

“For putting on an amusing show last night,” he shrugged, his icy cold eyes still fixed on her. “But for giving you that, you know you have to give me something,” he said sinisterly. He licked his lips and waited impatiently, his eyes having a strange gleam to them.
She looked at the roll and then at what Malfoy was doing.

“Take your dirty roll and shove it up your ass, Malfoy,” she retorted, throwing the bread at him. It hit him in the forehead and he looked at her strangely. Something was off about he way he looked. It was as if he hadn’t been expecting her to turn him down. Was this how he was brought up? Did his father treat his mother like this? Narcissa probably gave into every single one of Lucius’ sexual desires… she didn’t want to think about it. It made her shiver in disgust. Also Ando is autistic.
He reached over and touched under her eye gently and she twitched in pain. Lucius had gotten her good. He was a rather strong man.

“I’m sorry,” Malfoy said, and it seemed almost sincere. She looked up at him with surprised and gentle eyes and he seemed to snap out of it, returning to their icy glare. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t the one to give you that,” he added with a sneer. Hermione stood up, inches from his face.

“Then why don’t you do it now?” she hissed. He took a step back and cleared his throat. He left the room without another word and she laughed triumphantly. Talon was in the room next.

“Miss, the Master requires your presence,” he said timidly. Hermione groaned.

“Then you can tell the master that I require him to leave me alone,” she grumbled and layback down on the bed, face buried in the pillow. Talon gave a gasp of shock.

“Oh, no… Talon can’t do that, Miss! Master wouldn’t like that… oh no… he wouldn’t like that at all!” Talon put his face in his hands and began to shiver and sob. Hermione looked pitifully at this little creature.

“Fine, I’ll go. Just calm down, Talon… please?” she knelt next to him and stroked his back. She didn’t know a body this small could hold so much fear. He nodded and sniffled, wiping his nose across his arm.

“Yes miss. You must come with Talon…”

“I have to dress first,” she said. She wore a pair of baby blue pajama pants with clouds on them and a long sleeved flannel shirt, red and black plaid. There was no light in her room except through the light glow of the moon through the barred window and she was forced to fumble through the darkness to find clothes. Talon shook his head.

“No, Miss must come now!” he groaned, nervous fear slowly trickling back into his large eyes. She sighed and tugged on her hair. She nodded and followed Talon out of her room and waited as he locked the door behind her.

“Talon, why am I locked in my room and escorted from place to place?” she asked as she looked at the portraits of ancestors along the wall. Every man had the silvery white hair, pulled back into a tight and greasy ponytail at the nape of his neck. They all looked dignified, proper, and… evil. She looked away.

“So you don’t try to run away, Miss. It’d be a terrible thing if you tried to run away. Master wouldn’t like it at all,” Talon shook his head.

“What would happen?” she asked as he led her down the hallway in the opposite direction of the dining hall. A tremble went through Talon’s body.

“No. No. No, no, no, no! Talon won’t even think of such a thing!” He whimpered and stopped in front of a room. “Talon bids you good day,” he said in a very proper way before scurrying off like a frightened rat back down the hallway. She sighed and opened up the door. A huge office with a ceiling that was as ridiculously high as the table was ridiculously long was before her. Portraits of Lucius were everywhere, and occasionally Narcissa or Draco appeared in one, every time with a horrible sneer. A large desk sat there and Luscious was scribbling things in a note.

“Stay where you are, Granger,” Lucius said. She watched as Lucius took a black and wriggling scorpion from a jar and slipped it inside the envelope before sealing it. Looked like a threat. Hermione walked forward and sat down in a large comfy looking maroon chair. Lucius stared at her for a moment. “Did I say you could sit?” he snarled. Hermione ignored him and looked at the letter opener. If he weren’t a wizard she would drive it right into his cold black heart… “DID YOU HEAR ME?” Lucius roared as he stood up. A strand of hair fell into his face, red filling his pasty complexion. She looked up at this man and felt no fear.

“I’d prefer to sit, ,” she said sweetly. Lucius walked over and grabbed her around the throat, yanking her into a standing position. She gasped and clawed at his arm, trying to breathe. His thumb pressed into her throat and she continued to claw.

“That’s better,” he said soothingly, releasing her from his grip. Cold air rushed down her throat and she swallowed it. She never knew that air could taste and feel so wonderful. “Today you will start you chores.” Hermione said nothing, but continued to rub her neck. “I put you in charge of cleaning the guest wing. I would never trust a filthy mud blood like you touching my food or clothes,” he added just for an extra slap. She raised her eyebrows at him daringly. “I will have Draco check in on you every so often. I assure you that he has an eye for detail,” he said. He looked at Hermione again, his eyes wandering over her.

“Can I go now?” she asked rudely. Lucius swung his arm back and his knuckles came in hard contact with her shoulder and she screamed, falling to the floor. Tears filled her eyes steadily and she grasped her shoulder, biting her lip against the pain. The blood filled her mouth as she bit through the skin. Luscious walked over and grabbed her other arm, lifting her up.

“You have no endurance for pain, I see… you dress like a fool and you whine about the tiniest poke, even if it is for your own good. Do you have to make being a filthy creature like a mud blood so obvious?” Hermione didn’t shed a tear. They remained in her eyes and she blinked them away. Her shoulder still screamed with her pain. A little stream of blood trickled over her bottom lip.

“I can take anything,” she snarled. A smile spread across Luscious’ face. He reached over and ripped the shoulder down, revealing Hermione’s wound. Buttons popped and fell over the floor and she scrambled to keep her shirt closed, but Lucius had already gotten an eye and mind full.
The tender spot of Hermione’s shoulder, right below the side of her collarbone, was not a crème tone as the rest of her soft skin was. A giant hole was in her arm, sealed deep inside. It was a deep, thick purple, swollen and tender. Veins popped out and shot from her wound. Bright red blood trickled from it from when Lucius had hit her. He cheated. That was her hurt shoulder. He ran his fingers over her wound and his touch was like cold fire.

“Your parents were killed by Death Eaters, weren’t they?” he asked tenderly, still running his hand over her wound. She nodded, hating his touch. But he knew her weak spot now. At the moment she didn’t dare retaliate against him.
You commanded them to kill my parents.
It was your fault.
She said none of these things. She didn’t want to hear him admit or deny it. She wouldn’t be able to handle it. “Now, why on Earth didn’t they attack you?” he asked. His fingers, touching her just enough to give her goose bumps, were traveling closer to her throat and away from her wound. Her chin began to quiver with the want to smack him as she had Malfoy.

“They did,” she croaked. She remembered how her parents had screamed in horror for them to leave Hermione alone as they shoved the stake through her shoulder. She remembered the pain. She remembered the screams. She closed her eyes against it. It would make her cry. A little part of her was expecting her parents to come bursting in through the door, the police at hand, and rescue her from this hell. But no one would come. No one would save her. Another part of her knew this, and her insides were always clashing with hope and feeling alone. His fingers were tracing little circles over the skin, inches below her throat. She swallowed. He was just trying to scare her. He would never do anything like what she thought he was doing. He isn’t that sick.

“Then why was your life spared?” Lucius asked, his cold eyes bearing into hers.

“Dumbledore came…” she said with a whisper. Lucius nodded, lowering his finger. He had tucked it in the fold of her shirt that she so desperately held together so cover her indecencies.

“How fortunate,” he hummed. He began to tug. The memories filled her with a horror so she wasn’t exactly aware of what was going on. She could feel his greasy touch. But for some reason her mind wouldn’t register it.

“Father?” a curious voice asked. Hermione snapped out of her trance and felt his fingers barely touching her skin, that wasn’t the wound. She jumped backwards, giving him a look of horror and disgust. What had happened? Why didn’t she stop him?

“I’ll be going now,” she said through clenched teeth. She turned and tightened the hold on her shirt as she passed Malfoy. If Lucius was that sick, then how sick was the son?
Malfoy looked at his father, the quiet and confident smirk on his face there. He had seen that look several times, and he had often had to cover his ears during the night and think of other things to block out the sound of his parents. But what disturbed him was that the look wasn’t directed at his mother. It was directed at sixteen-year-old Hermione Granger, the mud blood who his father was planning on punishing for where Harry Potter had sent him. Malfoy just realized that their definitions of punishment weren’t exactly the same.

[Ryan Ferneau]

Wow, it's like a text version of "Where's Waldo?"

[nondescript]

autism used the touch of death on me

and now i'm dead

[Ando]

Also Ando is autistic.

SPOTTED