Evil Masterminds, or Becoming Draco Malfoy

Chapter Eight: Setting the Wheels in Motion

Day One, Sunday, 9:03 a.m., the entrance to the Great Hall, Cowering

    FauxDraco peered around the door, nervously scanning the room, clutching the front of his... well, no, not his... robes, and chewing his lip. He whirled back around to face Madeline and Hannah, who were standing behind him. (Ernie had been required to stay with the real Malfoy, who had been yelling and screaming all morning, and struggling frantically in his chair; thank Merlin for silencing charms; Madeline had suggested sedating him, but her idea was met with anything but approval, for some odd reason).

    "I can't do this! I'm not a bloody Slytherin!"

    "You certainly sound like one right now," muttered Hannah, scowling at his language.

    "Yes, sweetie, you are a Slytherin. Look at you! You're Draco fucking Malfoy, the Prince of Slytherin!" said Madeline, trying to ignore the fierce look she was getting from Hannah.

    Justin was nodding slowly, taking deeper breaths. "Right. I'm Draco fucking Malfoy."

    "That's the spirit!" Madeline nodded emphatically.

    "You are such a horrible influence!" scolded Hannah.

    "I'm Draco fucking Malfoy," Justin said again, with more strength.

    "I pity your children," said Hannah, ignoring Justin, then added with an evil grin and narrowed eyes, "your little pale blonde-haired delinquent children."

    "Don't be ridiculous. I don't even *like* Malfoy that way," denied Madeline with a sniff.

    Hannah snorted her disbelief.

    "I'm Draco fucking Malfoy."

    "Besides which," Madeline continued, also ignoring Justin. "I have brown hair, and that's a dominant gene, so they would probably be brunette."

    "I'm Draco fucking Malfoy!" Justin's voice was growing more sure and intense.

    "Then again, who knows what centuries of inbreeding has done to his genetic make-up..." Madeline furrowed her brow in thought.

    "Can we say 'dementia?'" asked Hannah.

    Justin's mantra had increased in volume. "I'M DRACO FUCKING MALFOY!!!"

    "No shit, Sherlock," said Blaise Zabini, who had just walked up, shaking dark blue-black hair out of his face and raising an eyebrow at FauxDraco. "Going in for breakfast anytime soon or are you just going to stand here shouting like a maniac at the little unsuspecting Hufflepuffs?" He gave Hannah a nod and Madeline a wink (she tried to control her blushing) before draping an arm over FauxDraco's shoulder and leading him to the Slytherin table. FauxDraco cast one last glance over his shoulder at the girls, a smirk on his lips but terror in his eyes.

9:15 a.m., the Slytherin table, Establishing the Foundation

    FauxDraco ran a nervous finger underneath his collar and loosened his tie a little. Since when had it become so hot in the Great Hall? But then he remembered who he was supposed to be, quit with his anxious movements and sat up straighter. He listened to the conversation going on around him, hoping that would help him gain his bearings.

    "You know, I never really thought about it before," muttered Crabbe, seated to FauxDraco's left.

    "It's always puzzled me. I mean, how *do* they do it? It's a biological wonder!" exclaimed Goyle, sitting across the table from FauxDraco.

    "Bio-what?" asked Zabini on FauxDraco's right, eyeing Goyle unenthusiastically.

    "Oh, just ignore them," huffed Pansy, sitting next to Goyle and across the table from Zabini. "They've been going on and on about it all morning. It's ridiculous. I mean, who cares?"

    "What have I missed?" asked FauxDraco, raising an eyebrow.

    Goyle glared at Pansy. "I care! It's a valid question, one that I should very much love to hear the answer to."

    "And when did you grow a brain?" continued FauxDraco, raising both eyebrows, hoping to Merlin that this was how the real Draco acted.

    Zabini next to him snorted. "Since Millie taught him to read."

    "I've always known how to *read*," Goyle argued, now glaring at Blaise. "She merely opened my eyes to the value of a good book."

    "Plus she threatened to withhold snogging," smirked Blaise.

    "What was the original question, anyway?" FauxDraco asked, bringing the conversation back to the point.

    "I was just asking the age-old question: how do seedless grapes reproduce?" stated Goyle, matter-of-factly.

    There was a long silence. Then,

    "How *do* they reproduce?" FauxDraco's brows were knit together in confusion and wonder.

    The other Slytherins groaned.

    "So, about the gala this Saturday," interjected Blaise, "any ideas for creating a little mischief? I envision a spiked punch, personally. And besides that, Malfoy, what are you going to do about a date now that Pansy's- ow! Fuck, Pansy, what-" It appeared that he had been kicked in the shin underneath the table. Pansy's eyes flashed him a warning, and he fell silent. Then she brought her gaze to FauxDraco, a slightly fearful and pleading look in her eyes.

    "Draco, there's something I need to tell you. I've meant to for a while now, but, it's kinda hard... I'm seeing Michael Corner. He's already asked me to the gala."

    FauxDraco instantly lost any Malfoy-ness he might have possessed in those few short minutes. It's was Pansy's sad, dewy brown eyes, they completely undid him. They made him want nothing more than to slay whatever monsters were at her door, to protect her from any danger she might have to face. He should have been aware of their deadly disarming abilities before now, but he hadn't prepared himself.

    He smiled reassuringly at her. "It's all right, Pansy. I already knew about you and Corner, and all I can say is that I wish you guys all the happiness in the world. Lucky bloke, he is."

    There was another silence at the Slytherin table, however this one was a bit more tense. The image of how the real Malfoy had responded to the news of Pansy's relationship immediately flashed in FauxDraco's mind, and he felt heat coming from his cheeks. 'Act Slytherin, act like Malfoy, dammit!' his mind screamed, but he had lost all sense of how to do so. He had to fill that condemning silence.

    "So, uh... how 'bout that Dark Lord, eh?"

11:21 a.m., the Hufflepuff Boys' Dorm, Recuperating

    "'How 'bout that Dark Lord?!?'" asked an incredulous Madeline.

    "'Lucky bloke?!?'" asked a snarling Draco.

    It was a few hours after breakfast. Justin had 'escaped the Slytherin clutches' (Ernie's words) shortly after the Incident, and had returned to the Hufflepuff dorm to hide. And also refill his flask of Polyjuice Potion.

    Justin cringed. "I know, I know! I completely froze. It was her eyes, they just lowered all my defenses..."

    "Touching, really, but while you're waxing poetic about your utter lack of self-control, the other Slytherins are thinking I've gone soft!"

    "Oh, they'll think far worse of you by the end of the week," Madeline assured him. She was something less than comforting. Malfoy glared at her.

    "How am I ever going to get through this week?!?" demanded Justin, looking thoroughly panicked.

    "Okay, okay, don't freak out," said Madeline, sitting on Justin's bed behind him, and beginning to massage his shoulders. "Just focus, all right? This is no big deal, and will be quickly forgotten. And anyway, when we start enacting The Plan tomorrow, the sensitive side of Draco Malfoy will be the least of their worries."

    "Have you forgotten my ideas so quickly?" asked Hannah with a reproving frown. "Malfoy's sensitive side will be the talk of the school."

    "And try not to leave out my contributions," added Ernie, flipping through some Herbology homework.

    Malfoy had glanced at Hannah and Ernie when they mentioned their schemes, but most of his miffed focus was on Madeline. And her hands.

    "Malfoy, quit staring at my hands."

    "Why does *he* get so much attention?" he demanded.

    Madeline rolled her eyes. "As Hannah so accurately pointed out earlier, you are *evil*. Justin needs all the comfort and support he can get right now."

    "And so that you know," continued Justin with an evil, smug smile shot at Draco, "this feels really, really good."

    Madeline smacked Justin in the back of the head and desisted with her ministrations. "Is Malfoy wearing off on *everybody* here?"

    "I have yet to be touched," responded Ernie.

    Madeline's lips twitched and Hannah shot him a look.

    "Not like that! I didn't mean touched like *that*!"

    "Sure..."

    "Are the massages a common occurrence?" asked Malfoy, possessing a one-track mind.

    Justin smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

    "All right, you're *Justin* right now, honey, not *Malfoy*. *Justin*," clarified Hannah.

    He shrugged. "Maybe I'll always be this snarky from now on. Madeline has gotten away with it for years."

    "Can someone please answer my question?!?" broke in the desperate Malfoy.

    "Do I look like a massage-slut to you, Draco?" asked Madeline, pointedly.

    And Malfoy was stupid enough to hesitate.

    "Why, you-!" began Madeline, looking around wildly for something to fling at the blonde's head.

    "Justin, I think you need to return to FauxDraco," interposed Ernie, glancing at his watch. "It's nearing time for lunch, and I think it'd be a good idea for you to at least spend the afternoon with the Slytherins. Just follow them, try to blend in, and no more incidents!" Ernie concluded with pointing an accusing finger at Justin.

    "Fine," Justin grumbled, then took a gulp of his now full flask. He transformed into Malfoy before their very eyes. "How do I look?"

    "Do you really want us to answer that?" asked Hannah dryly.

    "Hey!" flashed the indignant real Draco.

12:00 p.m., the Great Hall, Ain't Nothing Going to Break My Stride

    FauxDraco swaggered confidently in for lunch, and promptly tripped, falling flat on his face.

    "Flagstones can be such a bitch."

    FauxDraco rolled over onto his back to see Zabini standing above him, his face a mix of amusement and concern. "You all right?"

    "I'm lying on the cold, filthy floor, after having fallen for the whole of Hogwarts to see," replied FauxDraco, narrowing his eyes. "How would you be?"

    "Point taken." Zabini extended his arm and helped FauxDraco regain his feet. "Feeling a bit off today?" questioned Zabini, eyeing FauxDraco carefully.

    Justin fastidiously brushed off any and all dirt he might have acquired from his lack of grace, and also managed to avoid Blaise's eyes. "If by 'off' you mean 'depressingly dirty', then yes." Then gathering any and all courage that he could, he looked up into Zabini's face, all curiousness. "Why?"

    Zabini continued to search FauxDraco, but the performance passed the test. A few seconds later, Zabini shrugged and looked away. "Never mind."

    The two "Slytherins" strode over to their table for an uneventful lunch. FauxDraco made sure to speak only when spoken to, or whenever a sarcastic remark came to mind (which was becoming more and more often; Justin figured the talent improved with practice). He avoided looking at Pansy as if his life depended on it.

    At the end of the meal, Blaise turned to him. "We're going to play a game of cards in the common room, care to join us?"

    "Strip poker?" asked FauxDraco, forcing down the nervous gulp quietly.

    Zabini blinked. "No, Exploding Snap. Do you really want to see-" he didn't even finish his thought, merely nodded his head toward Crabbe and Goyle and grimaced.

    "I wasn't thinking *them*," replied FauxDraco, exasperatedly. Honestly, the rampant homosexuality emanating from this student body...

    "Oh, well, the girls were going to play dress-up or some such nonsense." Blaise received a frown from his girlfriend, overhearing the remark. He gave her a brilliant smile, which did nothing to appease her expression, and she flounced away. Zabini shrugged. "Women."

4:42, the Slytherin Common Room, *Still* Playing Exploding Snap

    After the initial elation of having successfully sneaked into the Slytherin House (well, not really sneaked, he was invited in), and the wonder of viewing said house's decor, Justin was now suffering an ailment he hadn't really expected or even considered when thinking about The Plan: ennui.

    He, Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle, had been playing Exploding Snap ever since they left lunch, and though he was currently winning, he couldn't help but feel a little frustrated. Surely, *Slytherins* of all people would have found better ways to pass slow Sunday afternoons. Weren't they the cunning bunch?

    When they had reached the 30-something-eth round (Justin had lost count around 25) and Crabbe's eyebrows had gotten singed, FauxDraco sighed in exasperation.

    "Slytherins are boring," he muttered. Aloud.

4:43, the Hufflepuff Boys' Dorm, Passing the Time

    "I'm bored," declared Malfoy petulantly.

    The other three Hufflepuffs ignored him. Ernie, ever studious, was going over more homework. Hannah and Madeline were sitting on the floor, doing homework too; or so Draco thought at first.

    "I'm *bored*!" stated Malfoy more loudly.

    "Does it look like we care?" asked Hannah tartly, not glancing up.

    "Why don't you try gnawing through your own arm?" Madeline cheerfully suggested. "The pain would at least take your mind off the boredom."

    Ernie turned a page in his textbook.

    Draco eyed the girls curiously. "What are you two doing?"

    "Nothing," they both replied, smirking.

    Now Draco eyed the girls suspiciously. "What are you two *doing*?"

    "Malfoy, you're turning into a parrot," Ernie commented helpfully.

    "Should we try feeding him a cracker? Maybe that would shut him up..." Madeline said thoughtfully.

    "WHAT ARE YOU TWO-"

    "We're vandalizing your possessions." She waved a dismissive hand. "Nothing to worry about."

    "Vandalizing my-"

    "Again with the parrot," contributed Ernie.

    "We're writing a few messages on your notebooks and textbooks is all," said Hannah.

    "Messages? What kind of messages?"

    Hannah smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

4:44, the Slytherin Common Room, Panicking

    "What did you say, Draco?" asked Zabini, giving him a curious look.

    "Uh- I said... that... a Slytherin is snoring... uh...," FauxDraco glanced around him, pretending to be looking for the source of the "snoring" he was hearing. "At least, I thought... maybe I'm hearing things..."

    Blaise frowned at him. "Maybe."

7:58, the Hufflepuff Boys' Dorm, Refraining from Thrashing Justin

    There was a long pause. Madeline had her head in her hands and would not look up. Ernie was staring off into space. Hannah was trying to look conciliatory.

    "It could have gone worse," she said, comfortingly.

    Draco snorted.

    "At least you weren't outted or anything... that would have been bad..."

    Somehow, this statement didn't seem to relieve Justin's mind.

    "It doesn't matter anymore," continued Hannah, speaking more firmly. "Draco Malfoy will be sinking into insanity beginning tomorrow, so maybe the slip up will prove it was a gradual process. And mistakes from here on out are pretty much impossible, so you really shouldn't get yourself down about it."

    Madeline finally looked up, an expression of incredulity and amusement on her face. "You told the Slytherins they were *boring*?!?"