Evil Masterminds, or Becoming Draco Malfoy

Chapter Five: Becoming, Part One

    "A *recliner*?!?"

    Hannah looked rather impressed. "I am impressed," she admitted, nodding. Hufflepuffs were never too hard to read.

    Ernie and Justin looked quite satisfied with themselves. Malfoy looked quite comfortable; after all, he was lounging back in an overstuffed recliner, complete with corduroy green and silver stripes.

    "But-but... you transfigured the chair into a *recliner*?!?" Madeline sputtered on, caught between indignance, incredulity, and grudging respect.

    "Well, it saves us a lot of trouble in the long run. Now we don't have to keep magiking the chair every morning and every night. He can sleep there," said Ernie reasonably.

    As if to prove the point, Malfoy pulled the lever on the side of the chair, making the chair lean futher back and a foot rest come forward. He then folded his arms behind his head and shot Madeline a smug smirk.

    Madeline took advantage. "It's nice to know that little things can make you happy, Draco."

    His smirk was abruptly replaced by a sneer, and his mouth opened for an undoubtly rude response, when Madeline hurriedly continued,

    "I see you two let him bathe, as well." (Malfoy's wet hair and smooth, slightly translucent skin had been a dead giveaway.)

    "We had to," said Justin, rolling his eyes. "Malfoy whined and whined about his hair getting greasy and unmanagable. We weren't going to, but he started ranting about bearing a striking resemblance to Professor Snape and we were forced to relent."

    Justin and Ernie shuddered delicately.

    It was the next afternoon, a Friday. Ernie and Hannah had traded off watching Malfoy between classes and lunch (the boys skipped breakfast, not having slept well, due to a certain platinum blonde prat who will remain anonymous). Madeline feared that her turn for watch was coming soon. She shuddered to herself. Those assembled looked at her curiously.

    "So what's next?" she asked, shaking herself to get focused.

    "The potion's ready," Ernie replied, stirring said disgusting concoction and grinning rather maniacally. "It's time to add the hairs."

    Madeline brightened. "So we get to cut his hair? Where are the scissors?" She looked itching to do the job.

    "No, we don't need to cut it after all." Ernie produced a hairbrush, what looked to be his own hairbrush, only there were now Malfoy-colored hairs on it.

    Madeline was very disappointed.

    Hannah looked a little concerned. "Ernie, sweetie, are you sure none of your own hairs are on that brush? I'm not exactly sure how a Malfoy/Ernie mix would look."

    "Oh, don't make me sick," urged Malfoy, making a face.

    "I'm quite sure, Hannah. Justin and I both went over it thoroughly before allowing Malfoy to use it."

    "Well, that decides it. You're screwed." Malfoy's opinions were something less than helpful.

    Ernie was currently pouring the liquid into a tumbler on the floor, Justin sitting nearby, ready to put the hairs in.

    "Is it supposed to smell like that?" asked Madeline, putting a hand over her scrunched-up nose.

    "Umm..." Ernie's face was noteably unsure, though he ploughed on, placing the hairs in the potion while it bubbled and frothed, stirring once said action was completed. Hannah, Madeline, and Malfoy watched in facination as it turned into a rather unique shade of...

    "Periwinkle?" Madeline smirked. "Is there something you're not telling us, Malfoy?"

    "Shut it," he snarled, though only half-heartedly. Only Draco Malfoy could accomplish such a feat, a half-hearted snarl. True talent.

    Justin picked up the tumbler, examining the contents with a look of pure disgust on his face. He took a great big breath, shook his head of any last reluctancy, then walked straight into the bathroom.

    Madeline looked to Ernie questioningly. "We have some of Malfoy's clothes in there," Ernie responded as he pulled out one of the desks' chairs and sat. "We figured he would need to get in character as much as possible, and besides which, Malfoy's bigger than Justin."

    "Are you calling me fat?" shot Malfoy.

    "Yes," responded Ernie, Madeline, and Hannah, who had grabbed the other desk chair before Madeline had even noticed what was going on. They sat themselves on either side of Malfoy, forming a panel with which to coach Justin on his return from the lav. Only Madeline didn't have a seat.

    With a smirk and a raised eyebrow, Malfoy patted his lap invitingly. His expression conveyed that he obviously did not expect her to comply.

    Madeline was feeling particularly bold, however, not to mention a challenge, which she was not about to chicken out of. He was in her territory, preying on her good will. He deserved whatever was coming to him. In other words, she thought he was really attractive and she wanted to be as close to him as possible. She believed she had always had a teensy crush on him, even if he was a vile jerk most of the time. That was what made him unique.

    She didn't think far enough to realize that Draco may have been hoping for that exact reaction to his provocation. Damn crafty Slytherin. Granted, Madeline was indeed a Hufflepuff. But she was of a more intelligent class, more perceptive than most, and could hold her own. Not to mention she was cute, small, and very much a girl.

    She strode regally across the room, head held high, eyebrows arched and chin raised, and sat right down in Draco Malfoy's lap. Malfoy shifted quickly to house her more comfortably, leaning to one side of the chair, pulling her to lean that way too, onto his chest, her legs hanging off the opposite arm of the recliner. Madeline hadn't really expected to be seated so deeply, but she adjusted rather well and quickly.

    Hannah and Ernie stared, slack-jawed. And that wasn't because Justin had just walked into the room, clothed as and appearing to be Draco Malfoy. Justin was a little too preoccupied with his present state of being to be concerned with Madeline's questionable behavior.

    "I feel icky," he reported.

    "That's nothing to what I feel," Malfoy muttered, examining himself in a very un-Malfoyish pose, shoulders slumped in, arms listlessly by his side, face a mixture of pain and discomfort, clothes a mess, shirt not even buttoned up right.

    "Don't worry, honey, that was only the first step," consoled Madeline. Whether she was speaking to Justin or Draco was uncertain, even in her own mind.

    It didn't really matter, however, as FauxDraco was currently responding to Malfoy. "Oh, shut it, Malfoy; it's not as if I ever really wanted to get stuck with old-man hair, so-"

    "'Old-man hair?!?'"

    "Where do we even begin?" asked Hannah in despairing tones, now fully appreciating FauxDraco and ignoring the rather ridiculous conversation.

    FauxDraco glared at her in return.

    "That's a good start," remarked Ernie.

    "Here's an even better one," interjected Malfoy. "Button up your shirt, straighten your tie, and fix your collar."

    His tones were so commanding and authoritative that Justin complied immediately and rapidly. The other persons present stared at Justin intently, turning their heads this way and that, squinting, thinking hard. It was rather unnerving and Justin squirmed a little.

    "Quit squirming," Madeline ordered. "Draco Malfoy does *not* squirm. Well, excluding those times when he is giggling like a fiendish little girl. Ow." She had been pinched.

    "Take your hands out of your pockets," directed Hannah.

    "Stand up straight," suggested Ernie.

    "Try to look more prat-ish," supplied Madeline. "Ow."

        It was still not working very well. FauxDraco possessed nothing of the demeanor of the real Draco, nothing of the self-contained poise, none of the inbreed arrogancy that defined him.

    "Why are you even bothering to get him to act like me?" Draco asked. "You're just planning on getting him to destroy my reputation, anyway."

    "Yes, well, we want to make sure no one suspects that it is not you. Even if you do start behaving a little eccentrically, people need to just believe that it's you that's cracked up, not someone impersonating you," replied Ernie.

    "Ah-ha! I know what you need!" exclaimed Madeline, pointing to the FauxDraco.

    "A sharp kick up the-"

    "Yes, yes, that might help to make him act more like you- ouch!- but what I was thinking was that he needed motivation. He needs self-identity. He still thinks of himself as Justin."

    "I *am* Justin," FauxDraco declared, frowning.

    "Not if we're going to pull this off, you're not." She took a deep breath, then set into action, making her voice low, hypnotizing, focused. "You are Draco Malfoy. You were born into wealth, class, power, and privelege. You will die with wealth, class, power, and privelege. Your name is well renowned, impressing some with your status and noble name, striking fear into the hearts of others. Either reaction will satisfy your purposes."

    Justin had been drawn in, as well as the rest of the group, none looking at the speaker, all attention on Justin, who was showing subtle signs of taking in the words. His shoulders were pulled back, his posture straighter, his head looking forward unashamedly, brashly.

    "And that's what you are, what drives you, what propels you through life. Purpose. You are on this earth for a reason. Those around you may wander aimlessly, but you, you are anything but aimless. Your life goal is the same goal your family, your long, proud lineage recognized eons before your time: you will rule, you will control, you will manipulate, whatever it takes to maintain that wealth, class, power, and privelege. Ruthless? Maybe. But no one could question your determination.

    And what would you be without the wealth, class, power, and privelege? Nothing. Just like the rest of the plebians around you. You would be no different from them. You have to be different. You have to be acknowledged. You have to stand out. If you aren't respected, liked, or feared, then you are nothing.

    Malfoys are never nothings."

    FauxDraco was now indistinguishable from the real Draco. He had a presence about him, a haughty intelligence and superiority exuded from him. A bystander would have not known that this was not Draco, and would have even been intimidated by Justin. (The author takes note that it is only when a Hufflepuff is in the form of Draco Malfoy can he appear intimidating. The author shakes her head in pity.)

    Madeline shifted her head to the side with a faint smile on her face, reviewing her handiwork. Draco was rather disturbed seeing himself so like himself. Ernie and Hannah cheered.