I, Malfoy

I, Malfoy, hottest person in the school. I could have any girl (and most of the boys-even the straight ones) in the school. This gives me good reason to strut. I would kick serious ass in a strutting contest. Hey, that's not a bad idea. I'd better make a note of that one.

I, Malfoy, cleverest person in the school. I could beat Herm...Granger in any test. Except whenever I try to learn anything, my perfectly manicured nails and my fine hands distract me, or I catch sight of myself in one of the twenty strategically placed full length mirrors around the dorm. Do you know how long it took me to get each one positioned at exactly the right angle so that I could see myself from everywhere in the room without moving my head? A very long time. If I weren't so darn clever, I wouldn't have been able to do that. See? I am more cleverer than Hermione.

I mean Granger.

And my hangings are made out of tiny mirrors sewn together. That took Dobby five days straight to do. Turns out even he couldn't resist my charms. Well, maybe it also had something to do with the threat of clothes.

I, Malfoy, Quidditch extraordinaire. I could have beaten Potter or Gin-the Weasley girl to the Snitch any time. It's just that if I fly too fast, the wind acts like an over enthusiastic hairdryer and my hair turns into a bush.

Not a good look. It makes me look like a lion.

Growl.

Grrroowwwl.

I must look pretty good like that. Where's mirror number 14?

Grrrrrrooooowwwwwwwwlllllll.

Wow. I have to try that on Herm-I mean I must try that out sometime.

Ahem.

Oh, all right. You may have guessed (but frankly I doubt it. As well as being damn clever, damn good looking and damn good at Quidditch, I am also incredible at acting). I like Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley.

OK?

That all right with everybody out there?

Good.

Because it's not fair; they're both in Gryffindor, both hate me, and both under the overprotection of Weasley. So even if I did have a chance, they would have the disdain of the school to deal with, and them being torn because they hate me, and most importantly, I'd have Weasley to deal with. And he might ruin my looks for the female population forever, and God's gift to womankind would not be perfect any more.

Of course I have a chance. It's me, Malfoy.

*

I, Malfoy, solemnly swear that I will never ever ever ever ever etc look at Hermione Granger or Ginny Weasley in that way again.

Signed Draco Malfoy.

*

So, of course, twenty minutes after I wrote that, Snape decided to partner Hermione with me in Potions. So there am I going, oh damn, when Snape announces that we're going to start Love Potions today, and taps the board with his wand. The temptation was too much. So we make a Love Potion (we are, after all, the two most brilliant students in the school. She's miles behind me though) and I scoop up a little bit in my vial, and pretend to stumble (a great dent in my dignity to be repaired later), and grab onto Hermione. Except of course, I 'accidentally' grab her head, dripping a little of the potion in her mouth. That was extremely difficult, and I advise you not to try it at home. Partly because she then smacked me round the face. She nearly permanently damaged my looks. Humph. Well, I made sure I was the first thing she looked at (even though the potion doesn't take effect for three hours, it involves the first thing the taker looks at). So now I'm writing during lunch, waiting, and feeling like a giggly little schoolboy again. No, not again, Malfoys are never immature giggly little schoolboys.

Teeheehee. Oh, Hermione is going to have such a surprise next lesson.