Lifestyles of the Rich and Wandless

Chapter Six - The Wonders of Short Skirts and Tight Tops

"Now, Draco Malfoy! That's disgusting!" said a voice from the doorway of the room. Draco turned slowly, dreading seeing who it was...

Draco's mouth fell open.

In front of him was not some random ugly Muggle pimp, but none other than Blaise Zabini, crammed into a disgusting (but thankfully very very short) maroon skirt and a bright orange top that Draco knew was probably not part of the Smeltings uniform.

Ordinary people would have gasped and asked Blaise what the hell she was doing there, but Draco was never quite normal.

Draco wrenched his arms free from Polkiss' grasp.

Yes! Yes! My arms are free!

He celebrated the usage of his arms by pointing at Blaise Zabini and laughing uproariously, not at all in a classy, Malfoy way.

Father would be disappointed.

But it was Father's fault that he was even here, so he thought to himself, screw Father. Hmm... another un-Malfoyish thought. Must be the polluted muggle air or something. Ah well, at least he still had his Malfoy looks.

"Shut up, Malfoy," growled Blaise, placing her hands on her hips. "Your father isn't the only one that is a retard."

"Blaise! Zabini! MAROON!" bellowed Draco, losing his self-control entirely.

Big D's mouth fell open in dumb shock.

"You know this girl?" he asked Draco, pulling Draco to him.

"MAROON!" shrieked Draco again.

"Someone send that kid to the hospital wing," he heard a girl mutter behind him.

Hmm... that's strange, why isn't that girl entranced by my looks? Draco wondered.

Suddenly, he felt as if everything suddenly snapped back into focus.

"Shut up, you filthy little Muggle," he snarled. "Malfoys of are perfect mental health, thank you very much."

"C'mon Draco," came Blaise's girlish voice. "Let's go for a talk or a walk, shall we?"

"But I haven't gotten my shepherd's pie yet!" exclaimed Draco.

"Stop thinking about your stomach and come," said Blaise, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"But... but... I need ugly Muggle food!" he said. "I'm hungry!"

"Come on," said Blaise, pulling on his arm.

"Hey! Malfoys are respected! We aren't..."

Big D's fist came flying into his jaw.

Draco screamed, as he was sent sprawling to the floor.

"No! My perfectly aligned teeth!" he shrieked.

"Hey, sweetums," said Big D, slinging his arm over Blaise. "How about you and I share some dinner... I'll let you have my leftovers..."

Blaise cringed.

Draco grinned at Blaise, who in return stuck her middle finger up at him.

Blaise turned to face the gargantuan beast.

"That sounds lovely, but I'm afraid you'll mistaken me for a piece of steak or something and eat me all up," she said sweetly, smiling seductively in a way only a Slytherin could do.

Big D's face suddenly went slack, which made him look even more gormless than Goyle would in a coma.

Blaise slid out of his grasp easily and pulled Draco up. The two started to walk out of the mess hall. It's a wonder how being punched in the face makes you lose your appetite. That, or blowing up roasters.

"I like duct tape and seaweed too!" hollered Big D after Blaise, his face still oddly shapeless.

"Retard," spat Blaise as they walked down a filthy corridor. What those house-elves were up to, Draco certainly did not know.

"That big piece of lard has been following me all summer," Draco whined.

"Must be rehab magnetism," said Blaise sourly.

"Er... you're the one that he was after," said Draco with a smirk.

"Don't remind me, you rehab."

"No need for insults, just because you want me to be attracted to you," said Draco sweetly.

"What?" said Blaise, utterly lost.

"Never mind," said Draco. Why do all the pretty ones have to be stupid?

But then again, anyone would be stupid when compared to him. Maybe he should see people in a different perspective.

Or not.

"So what exactly are you doing here?"

"Don't you remember? My dad was caught with yours, and I suppose they thought it'd be funny if they stuck us both in this stupid muggle school."

Draco laughed.

"Loooooooooser!"

"Hey you're here too!" exclaimed Blaise.

"...damn."

***

"Hey, Cedric," came Big D's drunken voice.

"The name is Malfoy," sneered Draco, pulling out his very manly Basilisk slippers and sliding his feet in.

"Hey, Cedric," he repeated.

"The name is MALFOY!" exclaimed Draco, frustrated.

"Hey, Cedric..."

"One more time and you'll be slower than Crabbe, and that, my overweight Muggle, is a world record, so for the last time, MY NAME IS DRACO MALFOY!"

"Hey, Cedric..."

Draco had enough.

The boy was asking for it.

Draco jumped up onto his bed, grabbed his Smeltings stick and cried, "Densaugeo!"

Draco grinned, waiting for the fangs to start growing.

Nothing happened.

"Damn! Stupid discount wand!" he cried, throwing the useless stick to the floor. "What good is this if you can't even use it for simple spells?"

"Spells?" came Polkiss' voice.

"Shut up, you Muggle," said Draco in a classy tone.

"Hey, Cedric..."

Draco jumped off his bed to physically assault the entranced Big D, but tripped over his stinky Muggle sheets and fell to the floor, landing face first, directly on his nose.

"Damn!" he exclaimed, rubbing his nose. "Now I need to apply another layer of moisturizer!"

"Hey, Cedric..."

Draco was defeated.

"What?"

"Who's that beautiful girl?"

"Blaise Zabini," said Draco, now trying to untangle himself from the monstrous sheets.

"Wow," said Big D breathlessly. "Could you set me up with her, mate?"

"For your information, I'm not your mate, and no, I won't."

Big D seemed to snap out of his trance.

"Then we'll have to make your life hell!" he exclaimed.

Polkiss leaned forward to grab Draco's arms, but this time he was ready.

Grabbing his classy purple suit from his trunk, he swung it around and hit Polkiss right in the head.

"YES," exclaimed Draco. "Once again, the pureblood prevails!"

Draco started doing a victory dance, singing a very catchy tune that he just thought of:

Go Malfoy! Go Malfoy!

You are so hot, you don't like boys!

Go Malfoy! Go Malfoy!

You are so strong, you are so smart!

Go Malfoy! Go Malfoy!

You are a pureblood, unlike Granger!

Go Malfoy! Go Malfoy!

You beat the Muggles in their own game!

Go Malfoy! Go Malfoy!

You are the greatest... I mean I am the greatest of them all!

I'm Malfoy! I'M MALFOY!

Draco jumped on his bed and continued his dancing. Okay, maybe the rhyme scheme needed a bit of work, but he still liked his own singing. Who wouldn't? He defeated the Muggles! Forget Potter, he was the Boy-Who-Lived!

"What are you, some comic strip hero?" sneered Polkiss, who had stood up.

"Hey you're supposed to be defeated!" shouted Draco, pouting.

Polkiss grabbed his arms suddenly.

"Uh-oh," said Draco, as he watched Big D push himself off the mattress (the whale didn't have a bed, Draco suspected that he broke too many for the school to allow him another one) and headed towards him.

He knew what he had to do.

Yes, this was it.

He had to use his one weapon, his one chance of staying alive.

"BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAISE!" he sobbed. "BLAISE, PLEASE COME HELP!"

Big D jumped up and looked around, immediately smoothing the mop of unwashed, food covered blond hair.

Blaise suddenly appeared at the doorway, looking annoyed.

"Stupid Muggles," she said, spitting. "What on earth is a Justice Timberwolf anyway? What did you want, Draco?"

"Hi, beautiful," said Draco, fervently hoping Blaise would help him. "Could you please tell these two to back off please? Please? I'll give you another Brazilian Smoke Whelp..."

Blaise smirked at him, as if to say 'you-owe-me-one', and turned to Big D.

"Hey, big boy," said Blaise, batting her eyelashes.

Draco nearly choked with laughter, despite the fact that if Blaise decided to leave then and there he'd probably receive a beating.

"Wow, nice body," said Dursley stupidly, literally drooling, his disgusting Muggle saliva dripping down on Draco's arm.

Draco saw Blaise's features twist to a grimace for a mere second before she replied.

"Will you please let my friend go?" she asked sweetly.

"Sure," said Big D, nodding. "I was just... giving him some sweets."

"Malfoys don't eat sweets," Draco replied. "Malfoys are..."

"Shut up, Draco," hissed Blaise.

Unfortunately, Big D heard her.

And unfortunately, Big D was smitten enough with Blaise to make her wish his command.

And what better way to shut Draco up then knocking him out?

Well, luck has it that he did just that, Draco feeling a cinderblock ram into his head and he knew no more.

***

"Draco," he heard a voice call from the distance. "Draco..."

Stupid voice, he cursed.

He had been having a very delightful dream where Blaise Zabini had visited him in the night and...

"DRACO!"

"Huh?"

"Finally," said Blaise, sighing.

"Where are we? Why did you come into my bed last night?"

Blaise raised an eyebrow.

"We're in Muggle magicmatics class," she said. "No idea why it's called that though, all we do is write numbers in random order all over a piece of white parchment."

"Oh right," said Draco. "I must've fallen asleep. Where's my quill?"

"Don't you remember? We don't have quills here, we use this thing called a pen..."

"Miss Zabini, Mr. Malfoy, please pay attention," said an ugly woman standing at the front of the class. "Now x-y squared times the square root of z gives you..."

"Yeah anyway, are you all right, Draco? That Biggy or whatever really knocked you hard last night."

Draco grimaced. He remembered waking up to see that his lovely tuxturnip was ripped to shreds! At least the stylish purple suit was still intact. He planned to wear that on weekends.

"Oh, and I forgot to use moisturizer..."

Blaise grinned flirtatiously at him.

"Here, have some of mine," she said, flipping a bottle towards him.

"Thanks, Blaise," he whispered, applying the moisturizer.

"Sure," she said, turning back to her Muggle magic work.

Only then did he realize that Big D was pelting him with tiny balls of scrunched up parchment.

He glared at him in the most intimidating way possible.

"Read it!" hissed Big D under his breath.

"Read what?" Draco shouted back.

"Detention, Malfoy, this is the third time you've interrupted my class," the teacher said.

"You can't give me detention, you fat Muggle," said Draco, swinging his legs over his desk and sitting on his chair at a tilt.

The class let out a collective gasp. Draco figured it must be his good looks after he put moisturizer on.

"Make that kitchen duty, Malfoy. Get your back-talking behind to the Headmaster's office with this."

She thrust a note at him.

He glared her down in his intimidating way.

Strangely, she didn't cower.

"Now," she said, her voice deadly.

"Move, you're blocking my sunlight," said Draco lazily. What could Muggle teachers do anyway? They can't take points, they can't curse you, they can't do anything!

Suddenly, the Muggle attacked!

Grabbing his ear, she hissed, "I think you need to wash your mouth out with soap!"

"I think you need to wash your mouth, full stop," said Draco, turning away from the teacher's putrid breath.

"SMART BOY ARE WE?" the teacher shrieked. "Maybe it's time I get out Wood!"

Draco smiled. He knew Oliver Wood wouldn't hurt him much, being a noble Gryffindor and all.

"Bring him on," he sneered.

The Muggle bent over a cabinet, looking for something, whilst Draco shared a grin with Blaise. God that girl was gorgeous. Maybe she'd be free for a snog later on in the day, Draco hadn't gotten any since the last day at Hogwarts with Pansy Parkinson... and that wasn't very satisfying either.

The Muggle, however, did not take out Oliver Wood, but a long, gnarled cane.

"Meet Wood, Malfoy."

***

Draco walked into the kitchens two hours later, his arse sore as... something really sore, and his dignity severely injured.

"So, you're the wisecrack, are you?" said an old man, laughing joyously.

"No, I'm Draco Malfoy."

Who was this Wise Crack person? Draco wondered.

"Whatever. Okay, you get to work on peeling those spuds, and I want you to toast that stack of bread there..."

"Hang on, where are the house elves?"

"House elves, my lad?"

"Yeah, every school has them," said Draco in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone.

"Don't know what you're talking about," said the old man, pulling on a ridiculous white hat.

"You know, long ears, enormous eyes, eager to serve, use wandless magic, all that?"

"Get peeling and toasting," said the man, who suddenly looked annoyed.

Draco turned to the pile of bread waiting for him, his eyes going from the bread to the potatoes to the roaster.

Suddenly, he had an idea.

A devilish, brilliant idea.

The Muggle School would never know what hit them.

Draco Malfoy, roaster extraordinaire, is putting his brightest plan yet into action.