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, The Little Large Malfoy Who Could

~ By Blackberry Ink

~ Part the Second: October

~~~~~

October the second, whatever year

4:31 A.M.

The fact that there is an owl rapping obnoxiously on the window next to my head is increasingly annoying. But if it thinks he can come and wake me up three hours and twenty-eight minutes before normal the ruddy thing has got another thing coming to him. A thing that involves molasses, a pair of iron shackles, and a large pot. And don't think that just because it's five inches tall and made of soft feathers that I wouldn't do it.

4:45 A.M.

I am not letting the thing see that I am awake. I have turned my body in such a position that the curtains around my bed cover my gorgeous self from view. Unlucky for him. But I will not be defeated.

4:53 A.M.

It seems to have resorted to a strange scratching and snorting noise. I wasn't aware that owls could even snort. If it thinks this is going to break me, however, it is sorely mistaken. I have not yet begun to fight.

4:59 A.M.

Bloody HELL. I am going to KILL IT. Now. It has already caused me to lose close to TWENTY-EIGHT minutes of MY sleep that I deserve. I work hard. I go to class. I eat lunch. I do prefectly things. With the strength of the titans, I raise my hand and say intelligent things that cause the students, professors, even GOD, probably, to ponder. Merlin turns over in his grave at my very words, wishing that he could be alive to converse with the ONE PERSON as bright as he. And no. I cannot get the sleep required for me to benefit the rest of Hogwarts - nay, the WORLD. People NEED me, and by having this ruddy OWL PECKING AT MY WINDOW NONSTOP I cannot give them what they need.

It's all about the people, really. That's who I live for.

5:13 A.M.

ALRIGHT, I'm up, for Merlin's sake. And out of bed. And at the window. And there is nothing here. Yet I still hear the incessant tapping and scratching and sniffing noises. These noises have probably been implanted in my brain, and they are probably eating away at my skull. Very. Slowly.

October the third, whatever year

8:18 A.M.

I'm sitting here in Transfiguration (N.E.W.T. level, because I am basically a genius.) and bored out of my mind. Pansy is drumming her nails across the desk. They are long and bright pink. I never understood why girls magic their fingers to look different colors. It's not like any male with a brain is going to be looking at the girl's bloody nails. Even Weasley should know that one. He has a brain, I think, because he seems to be carrying out (most) normal human daily functions, even if they are carried out without any of the grace, experience, and charisma that I carry them out with. Things like eating, for example. This is something I am naturally better than him at. It is almost impossible to watch the boy eat - it's positively neanderthal. I almost pity the thing. Except he is an unsightly weasel and has a funny nose.

Also, just in case anyone was interested, it wasn't an owl at my window keeping me up and putting me very near to going on a homicidal rampage. It was Greg. For someone whose friendship with me is somewhat on parole, that was not a very wise thing to do. Then again, Greg is not a very wise person. He made amends by bowing down before me and cleaning my feet, however, so I shall begin to forgive him. Again. As long as he promises not to keep it up.

I wonder what he was snorting. I'll have to ask him.

8:30 A.M.

It was faerie dust. He won't tell me where he got it. Doesn't want to talk about it in class. Bloody cretin.

October the fifth, whatever year

12:24 P.M.

I'm seeing Pansy down at the lake at one for another of our little "lunch meetings," as she calls them. I forgot to get food and there isn't time, so I just transfigured some of my old sweaters into a few sandwiches since I told her I'd bring them. It's not as though we'll be eating them, if I have anything to do with it.

2:02 P.M.

Bugger. Seems she was hungry, after all.

She brought drinks and some small green suspicious-looking pastries. She poured us each something into some of the official Slytherin mugs and kept looking at me and smiling. Things were looking up. Until she took one of the sandwiches I'd brought.

"Don't eat those," I warned her. Because I am a nice person like that. "They're bloody awful."

"How would you know, you haven't tried them."

"Oh, well," I paused to think for an explanation. In another moment of brilliance, an idea came to me. "I had one on the way. So I'm not hungry."

"You ate without me?" She pouted. Her lips are very big.

"Er, not on the way," I said. Nice cover, Draco. "Yesterday. For lunch. By myself. I'm not hungry because, er, I had a big breakfast." I don't eat breakfast. Fell right into that one, didn't she. Gullible.

"Oh," said Pansy. "Well, I'm hungry, so I think I'll try one."

"You don't honestly want to eat, do you?" I said as a last effort, throwing my hands desperately and dramatically into the air with the grace and poise that only a Malfoy can possess. "I thought we just came here for a snog."

Her lips got tight, then, and not quite so big and attractive-looking. "You think all I am is a snog? You think that's the only reason we have these lunch meetings?"

"Er, yes?" I tried.

"I thought you were different than that, Draco!" she said, throwing her arms up with not quite as much poise as I had, but close. She tries. But the Parkinson family has never had quite the flair for drama that my family does. It is a sad fact, but understandable.

She was still rambling. "I thought you liked me for who I am as a person! I thought I wasn't just another body to you, like half the other girls in this school!"

Not quite, I wanted to say. But I didn't, because I'm not that idiotic. There was still hope for a snog out of this situation, after all. It all hinged on this next line.

Except that was the moment when the sandwiches turned back into sweaters. Bloody fucking hell.

"You didn't even make real food?!" She was shrieking like a damned banshee. Why can't girls just calm the hell down and give a man a good snog?

"I was in a rush because I wanted to get to see you," I said smoothly. She'd have to buy that one.

"Forget it. I've had enough! I know you've been seeing other girls since we've been going out and now you don't even have the decency to have some semblance of a date with me without wanting to practically rape me on the spot! I'm tired of it! We're through, Draco Malfoy! Through!"

Well, alright then.

She just sort of left after that, and left me to clean. Except I didn't clean, I just left a few minutes after. Honestly, leave a Malfoy to clean up a picnic?

I wasn't aware that we had been "going out," though. Seems that the female species is always a bit more informed about these things than their male counterparts are.

I'll have to look into that with some, er, rebound sex. As I like to call it.

October the eighth, whatever year

12:02 P.M.

I am getting over Pansy nicely. Not that there is much to get over. Looking back, she was quite overweight (by at least five pounds) and her eyes looked like mulled-over crap. Not a pleasant color. Imagine if I had stayed with her. I would have been stuck looking into shit-colored eyes every single day for weeks.

In other, more interestingly devastating news, Greg gave some faerie dust to Vinnie but somehow "forgot" to give me some. And now he has run out and his father won't ship him any more because he's "busy doing other things." Right. Riiight.

4:48 P.M.

"You shood 'ave been wit' us da udder night," Vinnie said to me. "Me and Greg were reely 'avin a good time."

"With what? The faerie dust that Greg FORGOT to give to me? Because he was to busy getting high with YOU?"

"Yeah, I guess so," said Vinnie.

"You idiots!"

"Don' worry, 'Foy. Next time I'll hook ya up."

"What the fucking hell?!" I was yelling now. "Did you just call me 'Foy?' And what the hell is with your bloody voice?"

He grinned rather shakily. "Do ya like it?"

"No, I don't bloody like it! You sound like a sodding American or something!"

"Muggles like-"

"I don't care what Muggles like! I am a high-class, pure-blood wizard! And so are you! So bloody act like it, you daft lunatic! And get me some damned faerie dust!"

And that was it.

October the tenth, whatever year

1:12 P.M.

The world has gone mad. Or at least the Slytherin part of it.

Vinnie's new nickname seems to have caught on most splendidly and everyone who counts seems to have forgotten that they are supposed to call me by the name my mother gave me.

Which, for the record, is not 'Foy.

Let me rephrase that: DON'T CALL ME 'FOY. IT MAKES ME SOUND LIKE A POOR KID FROM THE ROUGH PART OF TOWN WITH AN INPEDEMENT AND A DRUG PROBLEM.

Why does everyone insist on nicknaming everything, anyway? It's uncouth. Next thing you know they'll be calling Greg 'G-Man.'

4:45

I spoke too soon.

October the eleventh, whatever year

6:07 P.M.

G-Man and Vinnie have decided they are perpetually angry with me. This upsets me. Because, really, I'm allowed to be mad at them. Not the other way around. And they didn't even give me a good reason for their eternal hatred. They said something about, "You be a no-good asshole 'oo jus' likes us fer our druuugs." But what kind of reason is that? It's not even true.

In other news, Pansy still appears to hate me as well. Which, still, is something I don't care about. I've noticed her hanging around Blaise quite a fair bit, as well. Do I sense a love triangle brewing? Yes, I believe I do. Millicent will not be please with 'her Blaisey.'

October the thirteenth, whatever year

2:08 P.M.

Female Weasel (who still insists on sitting next to me) and I have been assigned a project. Because of her need to be near me whenever possible, Prof decided that we are now Friends and decided to be kind and let us work together. Prof is so nice. Oh, how I love Prof.

NOT.

The woman is INSUFFERABLE. To assign me to work on a PROJECT with a WEASEL whose hair is probably DYED because there is no way hair can be quite that shade of red, anyway.

"Like I told you before," said The Female. "I'm not doing all the work."

"Well neither am I."

"Good. I say we meet in the library before dinner. Do you have a class then?"

"Yes," I lied.

The Female rolled her eyes. "You're lying."

"Why would you think that? Are you stalking me?"

"I saw you snogging a Hufflepuff right outside the Great Hall that time last week. Unless you've changed your schedule?"

"Perhaps I was skipping class," murmured I.

"You'd skip class to snog a Hufflepuff? You're more desperate than I'd thought."

"A snog's a snog," I said. How dare she insult me! She's not even human! Barely.

"Not with a Hufflepuff it isn't. They've got plenty of lookers in their bunch, but I haven't met one yet who could snog worth a damn. Unless the girls are better?" She trailed off, leaving my mind in The Indecent Place.

"They are." I tried to be short and convey with my brilliant words that 'the conversation is over. I tire being near you, despite the large size of your breasts.'

"Well, I'll have to test it out, won't I?"

Against my good judgment, I gulped.

"I'll see you in the library," she said. "Five o'clock. Don't be late."

The project goes on for two months. I am going to Avada Kedavra myself before next Tuesday.

October the sixteenth, whatever year

9:32 A.M.

The project is rolling along very slowly. It's only been a few days and suicide is looking like a far better option than sticking it out and hoping that life deals me a better hand next time around. I've really hit rock bottom. I've even made a list.

Reasons Draco Malfoy Has Hit Rock Bottom:

Pathetic.

October the seventeenth, whatever year

11:39 A.M.

I was just cruelly reminded by one of the profs bringing a bloated, diseased pumpkin into the castle that it is almost Halloween. Which can only mean one thing.

Sixth and seventh years have a dance!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I was just kidding. I'm not really excited. Girls get excited about dances, not manly men like myself.

So. Anyway. The dance. It's more of a costume party, actually. At The Three Broomsticks. And it's not actually on Halloween, because that would get in the way of the feast. So it's on 1 November, which they call All Saint's Day or something. Probably a commercial gimmick. Anyway, The Weird Sisters will be back. I rather detest them, since they are all old and past their prime, but the bagpipe player still has nice legs.

Still, I haven't the slightest clue as to who to dress up as. Of course, I will probably think of something wonderful at the last minute, as always. But the girls are already putting the finishing touches on their costumes and looking at me as though to say, "I'll go to the dance with you! Pick me! Pick me!"

The more important part is in choosing the girl. Pansy seems to be out of the picture, which is good because I heard she's dressing up as a vampress in a shade of red that completely doesn't suit my skin tone. I'm not worried about anyone saying no, because who in their right mind would do that? It's just a matter of choosing a good one. Which I will do. Later.

October the twentieth, whatever year

3:14 P.M.

Possible Date Candidates (yes another list):

There are, obviously, many more, but I'm tired of list-making. Two in one week is far too many.

6:33 P.M.

Met with The Female today to work on the project.

"You ask anyone to the dance, yet, Malfoy?" she asked. Obviously she wanted me to ask her. I played it cool. I'd lead her on, then smash her hopes into the ground. No way was I going with a Gryff.

"Why do you ask?" I said, mysteriously.

"Just wondering," she said.

"Are you going with anyone?" asked Sir Draco Malfoy the Great, Esq.

"Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering."

"Right."

"Right."

Silence. I thought about doing work. Then thought better of it.

"Well I'm going with Harry," she said finally.

"Potter?"

Then I caught a glimpse of her misty-eyed grin before quickly covering my eyes.

"You're still obsessed with that piece of dung?" I laughed an evil Malfoy laugh.

"I'm not obsessed," she said. "And at least I have a date."

Sometimes, I can't understand what possesses me grant The Female's ears the courtesy of my hearing my speech. She is insufferable.

October the twenty-fifth, whatever year

11:44 A.M.

Still no date.

October the twenty-sixth, whatever year

4:26 P.M.

I'm not worried. Millicent still has no date.

October the twenty-seventh, whatever year

8:57 P.M.

Millicent has been on a diet for two weeks now. It's starting to show. And she's lost her acne.

October the twenty-ninth, whatever year

4:31 P.M.

Pansy and Blaise are going together. Cho and Someone Else are going together. Weasel and the Mudblood are going together. G-Man and Vinnie are probably going together.

October the thirtieth, whatever year

7:06 P.M.

Okay. Fuck.

October the thirty-first, whatever year

4:42 P.M.

I am saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaved. By my brilliance and charm.

I COMPLETELY forgot about Tracey Davis! Slytherin, in my year. She's very small, which is probably why I never really noticed her before. She used to date Blaise, and he said she's got "wicked fingers" and that "I'm in for a treat."

Haha. That shows you, Pansy. My date is far prettier and has hands that probably aren't covered in ape hair. Brilliant.

Oh. I forgot to mention that it is Halloween. Isn't that just wizard.

Anyway, Blaise was the one to point her out to me in the first place. I was sitting with The Female in the library for the project (AGAIN. It is going to start ruining my reputation soon.) when I saw her. So I waited for her to go behind a bookshelf and walked up to her as she was putting back a book called Sapphire O'Cleary: The Disease That Love Made.

Then I leaned casually against the shelf and said, "I'm Draco Malfoy. You probably know me."

Then her eyes got really big-like and she said, "Of course I know you. Everyone knows you."

My kind of girl.

"That's true," I said. "So would you go to the dance with me?"

"With yoooooou?" She stretched out that 'you' so long I thought she'd run out of breath. Plus, it was annoying.

"Yesss," I said, re-experimenting with my trademark hissing noise. It hadn't been put to use since September at least.

"O-okay," said Tracey.

"Good. I'll see you in the commons at 7:00 sharp tomorrow. Don't be late."

"I won't be!" she squealed.

"Just remember that if you're not nice to me, there are plenty of other girls I could shag," I warned.

She nodded quickly.

"Glad we're clear."

Exit, Malfoy, stage left. Brilliant performance.

~~~~~