The Musings Of Draco Malfoy, Who Is So Obviously Better Than You

~ The Musings Of Draco Malfoy, Who Is So Obviously Better Than You

Or If I Don't Beat You, My Father Certainly Will

Another title is, And If Not Him, Then My Mother Will Have A Go At It

And if you don't like that, you may call it, And If Neither Of Them Can Do It Then At Least I'm Better Looking And Richer Than You Are

~ By Blackberry Ink

~ Part the First: September

~~~~~

September the first, whatever year

Noon

These are the glory days. Ah, how wonderful it is to be me. I'm rich, handsome, and in my prime. I can get laid any time I want. I just have to say, "Hey, I'm feeling horny, what about you?" And there you go. No more sexual frustration. Really, what girl wouldn't do me? That is at least fifteen? Alright, at least a teenager. Even the Gryffindors would, they'd just do it in private and not tell their boyfriends until the breakup.

I'm on the train right now. A bit tired, but still feeling wonderful overall. One of the more irritating things about the school train days is that you have to get up at ungodly hours like ten o'clock. When you're actually in school it's not as bad. It's expected. Just another part of the torture. But this is before school is supposed to actually start. You think you're still on hols and BAM. You have to wake up before noon. Those are the days when I feel like my entire world is falling apart, like my flawlessly pure complexion might break out in pimples like that Midgen girl. Who actually is a good lay, as long as your eyes are closed so you don't have to look at those horrid pimples.

This is the second year running I've had to sit in the bloody prefect compartment. It's bigger than the other ones, but that's the only plus. Not even a plus, really, because there are EIGHT bloody people in the thing, AND two of them are Banes Of My Existence. Weasel and his perfect Mudblood girlfriend. They sit as far away as possible from me at the very least, because I've got a hunch that they don't like me very much either. At least I can sit next to Pansy, who worships me, and whose company I actually enjoy at times when Vincent or Greg or Blaise isn't around.

Oh, damn, it's starting to rain. This better not keep up or I'm going to get my robes soaked, and Mum just ordered them for me from Paris. If they are ruined I'll DIE somewhere because they're the most comfortable robes I've ever owned and they've got a sort of silk lining on the inside that's quite nice.

9:00 P.M.

It did not stop raining by the time the train got to Hogsmeade Station. If I wasn't so undeniably manly I might have cried. Instead, I put on an angry face and made Crabbe go out and get McGonagall, who was standing at the platform. I told that she needed to give me a stay-dry spell (as wands can't be used until tomorrow when term actually starts) or transform something into an umbrella at once or I'd DIE but she told me to walk up to the castle "like all the other students."

Like all the other students??

For Merlin's sake, does she even know who I am? I'm Draco Malfoy! I refuse to be treated "like all the other students"! What is this heresy??? I'm writing to Father first thing tomorrow. He may not be on the School Whatsit anymore, but something will be done. He's still a Malfoy, and Malfoys have great influence everywhere, even with the damned war going on.

Oh right. The war. He's off somewhere in Armenia with some cronies collecting the "blood of the fallen" or something of the like. I doubt he'd want to hear from me, despite the fact that I am his Number One Son.

So I'll write Mum. And than this shall be solved!!

At any rate, the feast was boring, as usual. I got to stand up and wave while smirking in a scary yet sexy way when they announced me as prefect again. Potter looked pissed at that. Oh, it's so obvious he's jealous. I heard him telling someone that he "didn't care, honestly" and that he "didn't even want prefect" when it's so obvious that he just wants to throttle his two little Gryff friends every time they mention prefect duty. Heh.

September the second, whatever year

7:00 A.M.

I hate Goyle.

7:03 A.M.

Forever.

7:07 A.M.

I am seriously never talking to Greg again.

7:08 A.M.

EVER.

7:10

Really, what kind of friend would do something like that? To me, of all people? Me, who has called him 'mate' on at least five occasions and has been known to let him walk around with me and have almost intellectual conversations with me? Me, who has allowed him in my presence with not shagging involved? Ack, disgusting thought there.

7:12 A.M.

Am I gay?

7:18 A.M.

I sincerely hope not, considering all those girls I shagged. Maybe I'm bisexual. There are a lot of possibilities there, now that I think about it.

7:27 A.M.

Alright, I don't think I'm bisexual. But Greg is definitely still My Enemy. I wasn't supposed to have to get up until 7:59, a minute before classes start, because only the weak require breakfast. And I have potions first thing, so if I walk in late than I'll just tell Prof I was doing something important and that's that. He likes me a lot. Oh Merlin, is HE gay? Does he like me like me, like want to have a cross-generation with romance with me type liking? Because that's just abnormal and wrong. Ack, what's with all these disgusting thoughts this morning? Maybe it's because SOMEONE who I THOUGHT was my FRIEND WOKE ME UP AT BLOODY SIX IN THE MORNING. Maybe I should include this in my letter to Mum. I'm sure she'd know just what to do about HORRIBLE FRIENDS.

8:22 P.M.

Have written Mum. Included everything HORRIBLE that has happened to me in the past two days. I am sure her reply will be filled with condolence about the way I almost DIED because my excuse for a teacher can't even perform a simple spell and about the HORRIBLE FRIENDS I have.

10:59 P.M.

Blaise came in and asked how I was feeling. He said he was worried about me and wanted to know why I wasn't myself today. I didn't say anything and eventually he buggered off back to the common room. Some friend he is.

September the fifth, whatever year

8:07 A.M.

Got letter back from Mum.

Darling Draco,

I was most aggrieved at your letter. I had no idea your teachers were so incompetent. I will alert your father immediately and I'm sure he'll have something important to say on the matter. As for your friend - I' m sure he'll come around. Just a little boyish spat, I suppose, hmm?

Hang in there, love,

Mummy

Father must have gotten her message quickly because I got an owl from him as well.

Draco -

Stop being such a pussy.

- Father

I am very aggrieved. But I will try to do as Father says. Wouldn't want to disappoint him.

2:41 P.M.

Flitwick really is an idiot.

2:42 P.M.

I hate midgets.

2:44 P.M.

Pansy has just informed me that he's a dwarf. What's the difference? She also said I should pay attention because what he's saying could be on the N.E.W.T.s next year, but who cares about those? We probably won't even have them, anyway. Not with this bloody war going on.

2:45 P.M.

I love wars.

2:47 P.M.

It's a good thing we have this war, really, because I think I'd probably fail the bloody Charms N.E.W.T. What's the point of it, anyway? Does anyone even perform charms nowadays?

2:53 P.M.

Flitwick just said we're having the N.E.W.T.s no matter what. Ha! That old coot Dumbledore canceled them about a million times when Potter saved the world or some shit, so I'm sure he'll do it again. A war's more important, surely.

2:59 P.M.

Screw this. I'm going to say I have to go to the lavatory. I can't take this nonsense.

September the tenth, whatever year

4:44 P.M.

In detention. Filch didn't believe me when I said I was constipated, and that was why I was holed up in the boy's lavatory so long (I actually did have to go, but I wasn't constipated, just the other thing, and then Filch came outside so I just kind of sat there), so he came in (Not to the stall, just the room. Thank Merlin.). I didn't even know he was allowed. I mean, he's not even male, is he? If he says he is, I'd like to see proof of that, because

4:45 P.M.

That sounded wrong. Ack, ack, a millions times ack.

4:46 P.M.

Maybe I am gay/bisexual.

4:48 P.M.

I wonder what Mum will think.

4:49 P.M.

I wonder what Father will think.

4:50 P.M.

Shit damn fuck bugger.

4:52 P.M.

There's some fifth year boy in here scrubbing floors with me (He got the entrance hall dirty coming in from Quidditch practice. Hufflepuff, I think.). I tried looking at his arse and liking it, but I didn't feel anything. Maybe I'm not gay after all!! Or maybe it's just because he's a Hufflepuff, and everyone knows Hufflepuffs are a lot of duffers who are neither male nor female, just kind of one-gendered, fat, jolly blobs who probably reproduce like amoebas. That's right. By themselves.

5:00 P.M.

Said Hufflepuff has begun giving me odd looks. I think he may have caught me before when I tried to enjoy the Man To Man Arse Gazing. He must think I am gay. Which I am not, I'm fairly sure.

5:02 P.M.

Perhaps I am only partially gay/bisexual. 99% attracted to females, but with partial homosexual-like thoughts? Don't they have a name for that?

5:04 P.M.

Not that there is anything wrong with being gay.

5:05 P.M.

There most certainly isn't. Just not me, is all. Certainly not me.

5:10 P.M.

Thank Merlin this is the last day of detention. Too much time for thought here.

September the eleventh, whatever year

3:31 P.M.

Detention is over, finally. I am now looking in the mirror at myself, admiring the fact that my arms as obviously more toned now that I've spent approximately a million days working like a house elf.

I wonder what the house elf whose duty it was to clean those floors was doing while I was on duty. Probably off somewhere killing himself. Oh well. More work for Filch. Sodding bastard.

September the fourteenth, whatever year

11:20 A.M.

Greg thinks he can come crawling back to me now, does he? Well I've got news for him, if he thinks we can still be friends after all he's put me through. What HORRIBLE FRIENDS I have.

12:42 P.M.

At lunch (Which I do eat, and which the non-weak may eat, as I am bloody starving by this time). Greg attempts to sit next to me. Who does he think he is, I ask?? WHO, DAMMIT????

12:45 P.M.

On second thought, Greg has offered to do my homework for the rest of the week to make up for his sorry behavior. Perhaps we should be friends again.

12:59 P.M.

How brilliant of me to pretend I wouldn't accept his offer. I was just about to when he said he'd also give me this lovely manly signet ring, which has a gray jewel that will look just fabulous with my complexion and will bring out my eyes.

1:02 P.M.

Am admiring my new ring. I have the best friends a sexy, rich, witty, cunning, sly, sarcastic, all-around amazing sixteen-year-old could ever ask for. How wonderful am I to have chosen such great friends?

1:06 P.M.

Another thought: will have more time for sex now that Greg is doing all my homework this week. Do I hear two girls a night? What's that? Three, you say? Four!? Well, perhaps I'll give it a try, if you insist.

1:10 P.M.

Yesss. Note the Slytherin snake sound one makes when saying that aloud. Not that I just did, especially while I am in History of Magic. Alright, maybe once or twice. But it's History, everyone's asleep anyway. I highly doubt they heard. Or if they did they just thought it was a part of their sex-with-me-filled fantasy.

1:14 P.M.

Yessss. Oh, fuck. Mudblood with bushy hair must have heard me, because she gave me a strange look and whispered something to Weasel. Probably casually mentioning to him that THAT was the sound I made in the sex dream, starring the One And Only Draco Alexander Malfoy. Yes(sss), that's got to be it.

1:17 P.M.

Weasel has given me strange look. Hopefully I wasn't starring in HIS sex dream.

1:19 P.M.

Oh, bugger. I'm doing it again. Bad, Draco, bad! No more homosexual undertones in your thoughts!

September the fifteenth, whatever year

7:26 P.M.

Quidditch practice, what fun. I am captain this year, finally, and doing a bloody amazing job at it. Everyone thinks I'm fantastic. Girls want to fondle me; guys do NOT want to fondle me. I was pleased to see that my hair looked attractively windswept when I looked in the locker room mirror after practice. Pansy told me I looked nicer in my Quidditch trousers every year.

Great girl, Pansy.

September the sixteenth, whatever year

10:45 P.M.

Sex update:

Since becoming friends with Greg again (three nights total), have slept with:

Two Slytherins (One fifth year, one seventh)

One Ravenclaw (Sixth.)

One Gryffindor (Third. Oops.)

Zero Hufflepuffs (because they are duffers)

Note the way I arranged the list. It's a decending pattern. Huzzah!

Oh, and all were female, by the way. Of course they were. What else would they be, hinkypunks?

September the seventeenth, whatever year

8:21 P.M.

Just back from another Quidditch practice. Pansy is most definitely an excellent addition to the team. Superb chaser skills. Am glad we decided to accept females on our house team for once.

Meeting Pansy tomorrow for picnic lunch. I don't like picnics, since they seem to inspire weakness, but I will go just the same.

Also, meeting in Astronomy Tower with Padma Patil at ten. I hear she has a twin that night not be busy as well. Oh, the places my mind has traveled in the past few minutes. As it is Friday, and the last day that Greg has to do my homework (Because he can argue that I could always do the weekend work Sunday and I'm not sure what I'm about to say to that), I have decided that I will end the weekend off with a bang and have a go at Millicent, who is known to hang about the Tower on alternate Fridays and the first Tuesday of every month looking for a shag.

Very excited.

September the eighteenth, whatever year

4:01 A.M.

I was not as lucky as I had originally hoped I would be. Padma did not bring her twin, and suggested that we keep this "just between us." I didn't mind. Sex is sex. Her twin (Whose name is Parvati, and who is Gryffindor. I had been wondering why they looked so alike for quite a while now and it appears the mystery has been solved. Who knew?) is probably not as good, anyway.

Millicent was at the Tower, but quite busy with Blaise and I didn't want to disturb them. Still, I shagged five girls in four nights and I think that's pretty good. Next time I get a chance like this I'll go for six. Mum says it's good to set goals and I must say I agree.

September the twentieth, whatever year

5:53 P.M.

Turns out I am, actually, just as brilliant as I always knew I was. All I had to do was scowl and threaten Greg I wouldn't be his friend anymore and he seemed more than happy to do the weekend work. He knows he deserves it.

8:41 P.M.

Vincent insists I begin calling him 'Vinnie'. What kind of name is that? He says it makes him seem more suave. I told him that it's a bit hard for a hundred stone, hairy giant with a nose the size of Europe look suave. He seemed a bit put off, so I told him his nose was actually only the size of the United Kingdom, even just the actual England part, and was actually quite good-looking in the dark. This made him happier. I'm such a good person. I'm going to go love myself.

8:46 P.M.

Not that way.

8:47 P.M.

Alright, yes, actually, that way.

September the twenty-first, whatever year

11:22 A.M.

Off to picnic lunch with Pansy. What to wear? Ah yes - this black robe looks particularly dashing along with my signet ring. She won't be able to resist.

2:32 P.M.

Lunch was not as bad as I thought it would be. The sitting by the lake and trying to seem interested in her conversation part was quite bad, but at the end of it she leaned over and kissed me, the way of le français. Makes me wonder why I haven't shagged her yet, even if she did taste like broccoli.

2:35 P.M.

Actually, broccoli is good for you. Not half bad, neither. I could go for another one of these picnic types, as long as we leave out the eating/talking part.

September the twenty-third, whatever year

8:12 A.M.

Prof Snape announced that the first Hogsmeade trip of the year will take place this weekend. I have also have my first prefect duty of the year that day (I've managed to avoid doing all the other ones since the initial fun of catching people snogging in classrooms has worn off and I'd much rather be doing the snogging myself.) and have to keep an eye on things at Hogsmeade, so I'll just walk around with my chest stuck out and look important (which I am anyway).

I overheard Potter saying that the three of them should meet at one for a Butterbeer, so I asked Pansy to have one with me at twelve, when the little Gryffs won't be flocking about.

8:39 A.M.

Potions really is the best class. So much fun sharing it with the Gryffindors, which seems to happen every year. Prof must set it that way on purpose so he can praise us and watch them squirm. I'd rather have it that the only class we shared with them was this, but we've only got History of Magic as the other shared class this year so we ended up lucky. One year we shared six. Drove me mental.

9:08 A.M.

I was missing a piece of lacewing (Vinnie ate it, I think) so I took one of Weasel's. The daft pillock didn't even realize and just threw in what he had without re-counting and blue sparks started coming out of it. Prof came around and took five points for being idiotic scum (I'm sure he was thinking the last bit, even if he didn't say it.). Weasel just kind of gaped at the Mudblood, who was gaping as well.

"Careful," I said. "Before something flies in there."

Ha! Aren't I clever?

"Shut it, Malfoy," she said. "Sorry, Ron, I guess I miscounted the lacewing."

"You messed up?" The prat looked like Christmas was cancelled and everything he'd ever believed in was wrong. Not that he gets anything for Christmas, anyway, besides those repulsive sweaters with the big letters on the front that completely clash with his hair. What an idiot. Still, now Mudblood is discredited. She looked terribly sad, which made me terribly happy and not guilty at all. Then again, Malfoys have no consciences, so I suppose that is not surprising. Consciences are weak.

"I really am sorry, Ron. But honestly, didn't you even think to re-count them?"

He turned this bright red which filled me with evil glee. "I thought you had counted them!"

And then they began this huge row. It was amazing. Potions is never boring. Always delivers. I almost thought she was going to slap him, as she most decidedly did NOT do to me in third year, and make his face even redder, but unfortunately she did not. Ah well.

10:32 A.M.

After Potions today I saw Weasel and Mudblood continuing their row outside. It was getting boring by that time. Where was the kicking? Where was the screaming? Where was the scratching? Where was the cursing? All Weasel said was 'bloody' and Mudblood just rambled on like she was smart or something. Damned Gryffindors. Can't even put on a good fight.

Perhaps I should inform Father of the fact that Gryffindors Cannot Fight. It could be useful in the war. If that's all those two can do, I'd like to see how Potter fares against You Know Who this time.

September the twenty-eight, whatever year

12:02 P.M.

In the Three Broomsticks, waiting for Pansy. Where the bloody hell is she?

12:06 P.M.

Pansy's just arrived. Late.

12:55 P.M.

Drink with Pansy is over. Snog was brief, barely even a snog. I am starting to reconsider the way this Relationship is going. I was on time for her picnic lunch, after all, and she has the mettle to come late, even if it was well within the fashionably late time zone (Up to fifteen minutes after scheduled time, Mum says), I am quite pissed. And now she's left to go shopping with Millicent. Bugger, the Gryff flock has landed. Time to evacuate the premises.

September the twenty-ninth, whatever year

2:06 P.M.

I've just discovered that there is a Female Weasel. This is quite a development. The Female is nameless, as far as I know, but she is now sitting next to be in non-N.E.W.T. Herbology (which is combined with the Gryffindor fifth years). She says that she'd "better not be doing all the work this term." But I believe she as already begun to feel the wafting of my manly charms towards her, and in no time will be up for doing all my work and (perhaps) a shag.

Am I still allowed to do that, now that there is some semblance of a Relationship With Pansy? Speaking of Pansy, I didn't see her today. Most disappointed.

2:21 P.M.

Female Weasel still nameless and not yet susceptible to the manly wafting. I used to sit next to Greg in this class. What happened to that?

September the thirtieth, whatever year

1:12 P.M.

When I saw her in the library, I told Pansy that I was pissed she'd come late on Saturday, even if she was in the fashionably late time zone. So she said something about being happy I could express my feelings about this Relationship, and leaned in for a snog.

"Pansy, I wasn't talking about my feelings."

She kind of paled a bit. "You said-"

"I didn't talk about my feelings. I refuse to. It's completely unMalfoy and weak."

She said, "I didn't think it was weak. It's quite sexy to me when men say what they think."

So she leaned in for another snog, and I was about to say something, but I really wanted the snog so I shut my mouth. Figuratively, of course.

"Excuse me, Malfoy." It was Potter. Disrupting a perfectly good snog. Well, fuck him. Figuratively, of course. "Think you could move? I'm trying to study."

"Oh, bugger off," I said.

"I was here first, Malfoy."

Damn every Potter to hell. "I'm busier."

"Not anymore, actually," Pansy said. "I've got to go."

So it was another quick kiss and she was gone. Potter smirked - what, is he trying to be Slytherin? - and I kind of snarled and that was it. No more snog. I hate Potter.

1:32

Still hate Potter. What a fucking arse.