Draco Dexter

Chapter 5: There's Something About Ron Weasley

 

It was the night after Christmas, and all was (somewhat) peaceful at Malfoy Mansion. Harry and Hermione were making out in a small wading pool full of milk in the topiary garden. Sirius and Narcissa were playing Naughty Stewardess and Cranky Airline Passenger upstairs. Ginny was angrily washing off the maple syrup and complaining loudly to no one in particular that Simon and Al had never shown up to keep her company in the Secret Secluded Sex Room. Draco was standing in his bedroom stark naked, playing air guitar with a broomstick and singing "Ghost Riders in the Sky" at the top of his lungs.

And in the library, Ron Weasley was brooding. "It's been four chapters and I never get any straight action." he muttered to himself darkly while throwing darts at a piece of paper tacked to the wall that had a photo of Draco surrounded by the Teenage Witches on it. "The only person who's ever interested in me is Viktor Krum. It's not fair. I'm young, I have a firm butt, I'm extremely tall, and I'm good at chess, which is admittedly nerdy, but it's the only skill J.K. Rowling chose to give me, so I'm sticking with it, and I am, in short, a stud. And yet Draco gets all the action! This injustice," he gloomed, honing his brooding skills even further, "must be ended..." It was at that moment that Ron hatched his diabolical plan to...

STEAL DRACO'S MOJO!!!!

At precisely that moment, a small pebble hit Ron's window. His ears perked up at the sound of chipping glass.

"Ah, but what could this be!" he sang happily, "but a lovely female wishing for me to whisk her away from... something!" He danced over to the window, shirt rippling in the breeze that was emanating from the gigantic plot hole that Alicia/Sue decided to create, and threw up the sash.

"Yes, darling?"

"Ron, how many times have I told you that I am not your darling?" inquired Harry Potter angrily, as angry as anyone who was covered in milk would be, especially if another man had just referred to them as 'darling'.

"And if you're plotting diabolical schemes such as stealing Draco's mojo," continued Hermione, who was equally sodden in milk and was draped over Harry in a very lewd position, "would you mind doing it in lowercase? Capitals are annoying."

Ron wrinkled his adorable, freckled little nose. "Aaargh! Curses!" he yelled. In lowercase, of course, which elated Hermione to the point that Harry had to re-immerse her in the vat of milk to keep her quiet.

"Aaargh!" he yelled again, for no apparent reason other than that Harry and Hermione had resumed their previous activities and seemed to be performing feats of flexibility previously unknown to mankind, an accomplishment made more stunning by the fact that they managed to do this while their mouths were suctioned to each other and seemed to be vacuuming out each other's tonsils. (That run-on sentence was brought to you by Alicia/Sue Spinnet, H/H Shipper to the Death.)

Turning away as any polite person would do (not to say that Ron, who had been known to attach mirrors to his shoes, was polite), Ron slammed the sash of the window down. This upset Pigwidgeon greatly, who had just fallen out of the previously mentioned plothole and was awfully hungry.

Suddenly, a chintzy thirty-watt bulb turned on above Ron's head, casting an altogether sexy glow over his red hair. The sexy glow continued to flicker in time with the bulb and Ron's stream of consciousness as words fell from his mouth like Ice Capades rejects.

"I know exactly what I'll do... first I'll write Draco a letter, pretending to be Ginny..."

"I will write this letter in pink ink, because Ginny is my sister and she likes pink ink if I say so. I shall then spray it with flowery perfume," cackled Ron. "Dracey Wakey will never see it coming! I will invite him to meet me (or Ginny, as the case may be) in the Sixty-Second Secret Secluded Sex Room. And there I shall be waiting, with my hedge clippers, to deprive him of his mojo!" Ron took a break here to laugh evilly ("Mwa ha ha!" said Ron) and write his note.

Dearest Hottie Sex Pie;

This is your sweetums, Ginny. It is not Ron pretending to be Ginny. I wish you to meet me in the Sixty-Second Secret Secluded Sex Room, where Ron will NOT be waiting with hedge clippers to deprive you of your mojo. I'll see you there at 6 tonight. Lovers,

Ginny (Who is NOT Ron)

"Ah ha! Draco, the stupid blond will NEVER see through this!" cackled Ron, and he went off to push it under Draco's bedroom door.

* * * * *

Draco stopped his ecstatic guitar playing when he heard the scratching of a letter sliding under his door and when his nose picked up the scent of Ginny's perfume.

"Ginger?" Draco said, sniffing the air like a dog sniffing a pole where another doggie had gone peeps (or creeps, depending on your range of perversion). After a moment of sniffing the air, Draco determined that this was, indeed, his spice, and he grinned stupidly (also like a dog, begging for a bone). He skipped to the door, forgetting that he was naked, as the letter deliverer, his sweet spice, struggled to get the letter completely under the door.

He grasped the door handle and pulled, crying out triumphantly as he did so. "VIRGINIA GINGER WEASLEY!" He looked down, expecting to see his red-headed girlie. Instead, a tall, lanky, red-head boyie was kneeling by the door, attempting to stuff a pink-ink scribbled letter that smelled strongly of Ginny through the door.

The boyie looked up and found himself staring at an, er--private area of Draco.

Draco had completely forgotten his lack of clothes. "Ron? What the heck are you doing here?"

Ron was speechless for a moment, but stuttered out, "Uh, Ginny told me to deliver this letter to you. Um-- here!" He thrust the letter into Draco's hand and ran down the hall, tripping over his shoelaces in the process.

"What's up with him?" Draco shrugged. "Oh, well, I wanna see what Ginny has to say to me." He walked back into the room and ripped open the letter.

"'Dearest Hottie Sex Pie,'" Draco read aloud. "Oh, this oughta be good. 'This is your sweetums, Ginny. It is not Ron pretending to be Ginny. I wish you to meet me in the Sixty-Second Secret Secluded Sex Room, where Ron will NOT be waiting with hedge clippers to deprive you of your mojo. Lovers, Ginny. (Who is NOT Ron)' Hmmmmmmm. That's weird. I thought Ginny was sick with the flu and couldn't get out of bed. Oh, well. I guess she got better. Besides, I wouldn't pass up a chance like this for the world!"

When what Ginny had written registered with Draco, he gasped. "The Sixty-Second Secret Secluded Sex Room! The one with the *whips*?"

He paused. "Well, if that's the way she likes it..."

His gleeful laughter was heard far into the midmorning.

* * * * *

Two Minutes and Forty-Three Seconds Later

* * * * *

Ron entered the library, giggling maliciously.

He stopped dead still, however, when he saw what was occurring on the library desk.

"Iesu!" he yelled. "You'd think this library was a sleazy motel room, not a center of wit, learning, and, and, *NON-SNOGGING!*" He screamed these last two words at the pair on the desk. He paused to collect himself, then frowned. "And what are you two doing here, anyway? You don't live here. You don't work here. Speaking of which, shouldn't you just maybe be at your paying jobs? No, wait, don't answer that. I don't want to know if this *is* a paying job. Let's just move along, get out, and leave me to giggle maliciously some more."

Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall filed slowly out the door. Ron closed it with a sigh of relief.

"Now, back to my humorously evil plan!" he cried, and he began to giggle even more maliciously than before.

* * * * *

"Hee hee!" cried Draco happily. "Ginny wants to meet me in 2 hours, I'd better get ready..." Draco proceeded to take a shower and get his stuff together.

"Hum." Draco said out loud looking through his drawer. "The pink condom or the blue one? Or none at all? And should I bring the whip cream, or the chocolate syrup? Hum, decisions, decisions..." he mused.

* * * * *

"Ha! Ha! Mwa!" laughed Ron, while sharpening his hedge clippers. "Soon! Soon I shall have all the females in the world at my disposal! BWA HA HA HA!!"

* * * * *

Meanwhile, Draco was still standing in front of his dresser, grappling with the most difficult decision of the night.

"Armani or Ralph Lauren?" he mused, staring at his wide array of leather trousers specifically made to accentuate his adorable posterior. "Or should I be risky, and go with these purple ones? Hmm... Betsey Johnson? Whoops, suppose the delivery boy messed up.. these are Ginny's... oh, hell, I'll go with the Calvins." He dropped his towel and began to dress.

"Draco! Honey! *cough, hack* Sex Kitten!"

The naked Draco turned around to see Ginny standing in the doorway, clad in an oversized pink robe and carrying a box of tissues. He decided to play it cool and hope she didn't notice his... er... nonclothedness. "Oh, hey, Ginny," he said smoothly.

"Draco, you're naked," said Ginny eyeing him appreciatively. "Do you realize that?"

"Er, yeah," replied Draco. "I'm... er... preparing for tonight!"

Ginny looked confused, then after a quick look at certain... exposed things in the room, smiled. "Ohh! You planned a romantic evening for me, Draco dear! How sweet!"

Draco gulped. None of this was making sense, but he didn't get time to ponder further, as Ginny had launched herself on top of him and was having indubitable fun with his nakedness.

"But Ginny," gasped Draco as she covered his face and chest with burning kisses, "what about tonight? I should probably save my energy."

"Tonight? What's wrong with right now, lover boy?"

"But...the Sixty-Second Secret Secluded Sex Room! The whips! The chains! The wading pool full of hummus!"

"Mmm," said Ginny, a faraway look coming into her eyes. "Hummus..." She leaped to her feet. "Meet me in the SSSSSRoom, in five minutes," she purred. "And bring pita bread."

And she was gone. Draco leaped to his feet, threw on a pair of tight leather trousers, then waited patiently while the authors of this fic all took a nice long break to adequately contemplate the idea of shirtless Draco going commando in tight leather trousers.

Once they were done, he raced out of the room after Ginny, and came face to face in the hallway with....Ron, who had a determined look on his face and a long pointy pair of hedge clippers in his hand.

"Ha ha!" cried Ron. "Finally, finally, I will win!"

"Um.... win what?" said Draco confusedly.

"You're mojo!" laughed Ron maniacally.

"Great. You do that, and in the meantime, I'll be with Ginny in the SSSSSR."

"No you won't!" chuckled Ron. "I wrote that note!"

"But she just told me..." Draco was getting more confused by the second.

"Look, blondy, I wrote the note. She isn't there. Come with me." He pulled Draco back into his room, and chained him to the floor.

"Wow, Ron, I always thought you liked straight action..."

"Mmmhmmm... right.... take off your pants..." said Ron, who wasn't listening, because he was busy deciding the best way to get Draco's mojo.

"Grrrr..." growled Draco. "Getting feisty, aren't we?" He then pulled his pants off. (His arms hadn't been chained down yet.)

Ron then proceeded to chain his down and steal his mojo.

* * * * *

"Hum, I wonder where Draco is..." thought Ginny. "I'd better go look for him...."

* * * * *

"Draaaaacoooooo? Where aaaarrrrre yooooooooou?" Ginny called down the deserted corridor. Suddenly, shouts from the Sixty-Second Secret Secluded Sex Room attracted her attention. "What's this? Hmmm. . . it sounds like my brother Ron is tying Draco down so he can steal his mojo that makes him the incredible sexy hunk that he is! But no, that's silly. Ron's probably just having fun with his Barbie again."

Ginny began to walk away, but even more suddenly than before, Ron leaped out of the SSSSSR and skipped (yes, he *skipped*) away happily, laughing like a maniac the whole time. Ginny looked at him, perplexed, before sighing loudly, rolling her eyes, muttering, "Men. Lordy." and walking away in the opposite direction. Therefore, she did not hear Draco's calls for help. . . or his conversation with Mr. Gordo, his newly found teddy bear. . .

* * * * *

Cackling like a maniac, Ron dashed into the conservatory, where Sirius and Narcissa were showing Harry and Hermione a particularly large begonia that Sirius had grown. Harry and Hermione were nodding and looking bored.

As soon as Ron had entered, a frisson seemed to run through the room. He stopped and waved at everyone. "Hallo, all! Do I look different?"

Both Narcissa and Hermione were looking at him with heaving bosoms. "Ron," Narcissa purred. "Come over here and let me show you my begonia."

As soon as he got near her, she clamped long talonlike nails into his arm and hissed in his ear: "Meet me in the library in fifteen minutes. I'll be waiting there, covered in chocolate syrup."

"I'm allergic to chocolate," Ron pointed out haughtily. "Besides, you're Draco's mother and it would be weird."

Narcissa looked crushed. "Would it make any difference if it was hummus?"

Ron was distracted at that moment by an odd sensation. Looking down, he saw that Hermione was industriously tugging at his belt buckle.

Ron smirked. This was more like it.

"Wassup, Herm?" he drawled, sounding a lot like Draco. "Have you suddenly realized you long for me with a fiery and unquenchable passion?"

"Actually, I really just want a shag," said Hermione, looking at him with lustful eyes. "I crave your fabulous, freckly body!"

"Well, you're only human," said Ron generously, as Hermione bore him to the ground and, heedless of the onlookers, began covering him with passionate smooches.

Harry looked dismayed. "Whoa. That's not right," he said, staring in fascinated horror at Ron and Hermione, who were making out without restraint. Actually, saying that they were making out was like saying that the sun was bright or that Sirius was sexually promiscuous. It didn't take more than a hop to see where this was going.

Luckily the Plot Device monster kicked in at that moment, and the lights went out.

Ron, involved in a big long wet smooch with Hermione, didn't care. He barely noticed that there was a lot of yelling and activity going on around him either. He did notice, however, when the lights went back on and he realized that the hot lips he was kissing were attached to Minerva McGonagall, who was wearing a hot pink bikini. "Ew!" cried Ron. "I thought I told you and Dumbledore to leave!"

"We were about to! But then we saw you walking through the halls and..." her voice dropped to a whisper. "If you let me make love to you, I'll make sure you get A's all year..."

"But I don't..."

"Hold still!" she cried and put him in a headlock.

"Ouch!" said Sirius. "The McGonagrip!"

"Minerva, I must ask you to let him go." McGonagall and Ron turned their heads to see Dumbledore, who was wearing a bright purple thong. "Mr. Weasley, need I remind you that I am a Magid? I can go on all night like a trucker!"

"But I want STRAIGHT action!" wailed Ron. "Can't I just make love to Hermione?"

"Yeah!" said Hermione. "Can't he just make love to me?"

Dumbledore sneered at Hermione. "You're expelled." he said. "And you will be to if you don't come to the SSSSSR with me, Ronniekins."

"I'm EXPELLED?" gasped Hermione, and she started crying into Harry's shirt.

"It's ok, Hermione." said Harry "I'll take you outside and comfort you!" (H/H to the death!!!)

"Ok." she said.

"Now." said Dumbledore.

"No!" said McGonagall. "Come closer, or I'll curse you!" she grasped Ron's shoulder in the McGonagrip again.

* * * * *

"Mr. Gordo," said Draco to his teddy. "Mr. Gordo, you're my bestest friend! I love you!"

The ratty old teddy bear stared back at Draco with blank black button eyes. His stitched on mouth grinned, his fur was matted, his ears ratted, and a bit of fluff stuck out of his neck.

Draco's huge, watery eyes spotted this, and suddenly, tears flowed. "I hurt you, Mr. Gordo!" he wailed. "I must fix you!"

Dramatic music played as the author went on an ER kick and provided all that was needed for a TV surgery. Draco was dressed in his green cleanse clothes, and in his hand was a needle and thread.

Mr. Gordo's button eyes seemed to glint in fear.

Draco spoke through his face mask. "I promise this won't hurt. I would use some of that numbing stuff, but me and Ginny used it all last night."

His light eyes sparkled suddenly and he was lost in thought of that night for a moment before an imaginary cry of pain emitted from his stuffed teddy's stitched lips.

--and then, fortunately, the plot device created by Cassie came ambling aimlessly (as plot devices tend to do) down the corridor and halted in front of Draco's door, listening intently. Intrigued, it opened the door.

The lights went out.

"Dammit," yelled Draco, royally miffed, and dropped his needle and thread. "Who did that?"

The plot device made a noise like a discontented humidifier and blurbled away. Confused by the darkness, Draco started to feel his way down the black corridor, poor Mr. Gordo clutched under one arm. He had barely gotten three steps when his clutching hand came in contact with something that was *definitely* not a light switch.

"There you are!" said a throaty, delighted voice. "I thought I'd lost you in the dark."

The plot device, having found "true love" in SSSR #8902, spawned another of its kind. The lights came back on.

Ginny was standing in front of Draco, clad in nothing more than four strategically placed pancakes.

Draco cocked his head to one side. What a funny thing to wear! Pancakes!

"Thank God!" cried Ginny, throwing herself into his sexy naked arms with a sob. Draco blinked muscularly and stumbled slightly backwards. "I thought I'd lost you forever!"

"Pancakes!" said Draco happily.

"I thought you might like them," said Ginny, licking her lips laviciously.

"I think Mr. Gordo would like them more," said Draco happily, skipping about in a little circle. "We can have a tea party."

"Tea?" asked Ginny, biting her cute lower lip thoughtfully. "You know, that must be just about the only liquid I haven't tried."

"I like tea," said Draco obliviously, doing a skippy sort of hop thing. "My mummy gave me a set of pink tea-things. Mr. Gordo and I shall have a party. A par-ty, a par-ty, we all can have a party!" He stopped skipping for a moment and looked her critically up and down. "I'd invite you to the party too but girls are icky."

Ginny's jaw dropped. A pancake, disturbed by the sudden movement, peeled off and flobbed onto her toes. "You're *gay*?!"

"You said *gay*," said Draco gleefully, and dissolved into set of raucous giggles. "I bet you're such a dumb girl you don't even know what that means but I know, cause my daddy told me when he was telling about him and uncle Lockhart--"

Ginny gasped and collapsed to the ground. A pancake slipped off with a sort of thwippy noise and flopped to the floor. "You mean...you don't want to have wild monkey sex with me?"

"You said sex!" cried Draco with fourth-grade delight, and collapsed into another fit of hysterics.

The light of comprehension came into Ginny's delicate eyes, followed quickly by the light of anger, followed quickly by the light of psychotic murder, gripping a little light-knife, which in turn was followed quickly by little light-cops with a tinkly little siren. "I knew it! Ron, I'll make you pay for this!"

Draco, meanwhile, had dropped Mr. Gordo on the floor and was staring at the wall, drooling foolishly.

"Ron!" shrieked Ginny. "Ron at that! My own brother doing this to me!"

"You shouldn't yell inside!" said Draco, shocked. "You need to use your quiet voice!"

Ginny started banging her head against the wall. Draco started to cry.

"Mr Gordo!" he wailed "She's hurting herself! Make it stop!"

"That is IT!" cried Ginny. "Draco, we're going to find Ron, and force him to give you your mojo back."

Draco stopped wailing. "Did you hear that?" he said excitedly to Mr. Gordo. "Ginny says were going on a trip!"

Ginny groaned, then spoke to Draco in a voice one would use with a preschooler.

"Yes, Draco. We are. But first..." She got up, and dragged Draco into Sirius's room, and threw open the closet. It was full of 70's stuff. "First we shall dress up in 70's clothes, because the author of this part wants us too, this is a cheap Austin Powers rip off, and it'll be fun!"

Looking at all the tight pants, Draco whimpered. "Some... some of those are LEATHER!" he cried. "I can't be seen in LEATHER!"

Ginny started banging her head against the wall again, then got up and started finding clothes for her and Draco to wear.

* * * * *

"Down, wench!" cried Dumbledore. "Ron is mine!"

"Stay away, old fool!" cried McGonagall "Mr. Weasley isn't gay! He liked me better!" Suddenly, he was ripped from her McGonagrip by an unknown force.

It was a particularly large fern. And it was looking at Ron ...lasciviously. Or rather, its ferny little leaves were stroking his arms lasciviously, while one of its branches reached down towards his pants and...

"My God," he thought. "Is this what it's like to be Draco? Even the plant life wants to freak me nasty all night long!" Ron pondered. It was actually kind of hard to ponder with the fern delving into his jockey shorts and McGonagall licking the back of his neck, also since he had achieved Massive Heartthrob Status his face didn't so much want to settle into a thinking expression as it wanted to leer and pout, and he *really* wanted to drawl and he also kind of wanted to fly to LA and expose himself to the Laker Girls just to see what would happen, but...

"I'll go to Hogwarts," he thought. "Maybe there's someone there who can help me focus this spell so that only sexy, eligible women are madly attracted to me. Also there are tons of hot chicks there. And if I stay here any longer, I'll probably wind up having sex with someone really inappropriate and nasty, like McGonagall, or..."

The conservatory door flew open and there was Ginny, wearing a tight tie-dye jumpsuit and a murderous expression ... which softened when she saw Ron. "Oh, Ron," she breathed, swaying slightly. "Come with me immediately to the Inappropriate and Nasty Secluded Sex Room, and you can stoke my furnace all night long like one of those sweaty guys in the Titanic engine room."

Ron looked horrified. "Ginny! Where did you learn that language!"

"HBO," replied Ginny with a girlish giggle. "So, what do you say about that proposition? I'll let you take care of my boilers..."

It was at that moment that Ron decided he needed to get out of that room, no matter *what* that plant was doing to him now. "Get me the bloody hell out of here!" he appealed to Harry, who seemed to be the one person in the room who wasn't making a pass at him at the moment.

Unfortunately, this changed as soon as he spoke.

"Oh, Ron, how could I ever resist you when you're being so vulnerable?" cried Harry, advancing on Ron like he was an open aisle at Wal-Mart during the holidays.

Ron let out a strangled scream and a not-so-strangled swear as he bolted from the room. However, his progress was halted by something tall, blond, and orange.

"Mr. Gordo says that's not a nice word," said Draco, who was clad in an orange bell-bottom jumpsuit that made him look like a Creamsicle. (I am repressing the urge to make a "lick" comment right now.)

Ron took one look at Draco, stripped of his mojo, and fainted dead away.

When he came to, the first thought that went through his head was, "Oh. My. God." He then opened his eyes and saw what he had hoped not to find, but expected. Gathered around him was Harry, Ginny, Draco (who was off in a corner with Mr. Gordo) McGonagall, Dumbledore and Hermione.

"Lets draw straws!" Ginny was saying.

"Nonsense! Whoever gets him first, gets him!" McGonagall cried.

"I'm the best wizard here!" said Dumbledore loudly. "I'll blow you all to smithereens, and then he will be mine!"

"Shut up, geezer!" yelled Harry. "I'm his best friend, its OBVIOUS he want ME!"

"I'm his best friend who is a girl!" said Hermione. "Ron isn't GAY, Harry!"

Draco sobbed in his corner. Dimly, he could be heard muttering, "Mr. Gordo, make it stop! They're scaring me!"

Finally, the noise reached such a pitch, that no one could hear anything any more. And no one notices when a huge fern tree came up, pulled Ron onto its branches, and made its way to the Plant Life Secret Secluded Sex Room.

Ron closed his eyes and tried very hard not to think about what was going on in his pants. The plant mumbled something in his ear that sounded distinctly like

"You don't want this as badly as you think you do," said Ron, keeping his eyes squinched shut and trying to pretend he wasn't there. "I...uh...I'm not sure it would...work out...you don't want to, uh, throw it away..."

The plant stopped, as though stricken. It set him down on the ground, and said in a series of hurt branch-twitters,

"I would so," said Ron cheerfully, gaining a small amount of ground. "Yep, use 'em and lose 'em. I'm a ramblin' man, et cetera...My life, my love and my lady is the sea...."

The plant sounded like it was about to shrivel up and die. Dew trembled on its leaves. Ron refused to feel sorry for it, and also refused to justify the fact that he could tell what the plant looked like even though his eyes were closed.

(The plot device gave a contented rumble at the other end of the house.)

"I really don't think we could," said Ron nervously, flexing his appealingly muscular freckles sexily, and started to edge down the corridor. "Sorry, but, er, I don't date outside my kingdom. I mean," he pointed out, gathering momentum, "You're not even bilaterally symmetrical."

The plant gave a wail of despair and fled. Ron breathed a short--very short--sigh of relief. At least until he turned around and looked into the eyes of a quite mad-looking Ginny, sporting what looked like a space suit and a set of enormous hedge-clippers.

With the agility unknown to of Weasleys, Ron darted around his sister (whose near hysterics) and sprinted down the corridor. Ducking into the nearest turn, Ron held his breath and waited as Ginny dashed past him, roaring with a burning rage also unknown of any Weasleys.

This is what it's like to Malfoy, being mobbed constantly by lovesick women. And men, thought Ron as he inched slowly down the dark corridor. Having to go through a very dissatisfying day, he was in no mood to stay.

A wet snivel broke the blissful silence, Ron tensed and pressed himself to the wall. Thankfully to his black leather outfit, he was able to camouflage against the pure black marble blocks. He crouched down, hoping not to be detected.

"Mr. Gordo?" came an insecure call, a tall blonde young man clutching a moth eaten blankie sidled timidly down the hall. Eyes darting left and right nervously, he popped his thumb into his mouth and slurped grimly.

Ron sighed with relief. Only the mojo-less Draco.

It seemed that Draco lost more than his mojo, his coordination, sight, and good looks all seemed to diminish. Stumbling on thin air, Draco cried out as he sprawled forwards, landing not very far from where Ron sat.

Tears leaked from the corners of his large silver black eyes, he squeezed them shut. Stretching his mouth impossibly open, he bawled with agitation.

"Mr. Gordo! Dracey fall! Dracey hurt!" he sobbed, now sprawling across the floor pounding his fists and feet vigorously. Drool trickled freely from his open mouth as mucus streamed in. he closed his mouth for a moment to swallow and resumed bellowed on the top of his lungs.

Ron watched with amusement and disgust as Draco rolled over and buried his face in his filthy blankie, a fresh wave of sobs echoed down the corridor. Just as he was about to make his escape, Draco's left foot shot up and connected solidly with his chin.

"What the hell!" shouted Ron as his head was smacked backwards into the marble wall.

Draco ceased his crying and sat up staring at Ron with alarm, "you said 'the' bad word! HEEEEELLP!" he shrieked the last word, scrambling back with fright.

"Shh! Shut up!" Ron dived forward quickly and clamped a hand swiftly over Draco's gaping mouth.

Unfortunately for Ron, Draco's loss of mojo didn't effect his strength. Panicking as Ron held his hand firmly, Draco threw his fists up at his captor. Ron lost his balance and slammed down onto Draco's squirming body.

"RAAAAAPE!" Draco was screaming, spraying Ron with saliva, kicking wildly, this time hitting a VERY inappropriate place.

Ron was like a coyote howling at the moon.

"Well, well. I've found you at last," Ginny's voice drifted from somewhere above. The boys both stopped struggling and looked up and her.

Draco peered curiously up her skirt. "I don't think pink underwear suits you," he said quite solemnly.

"If it wasn't for primal instincts," said Ginny, jumping back rather quickly, "perversion is there no matter what happens to you. And Ron," she regarded her brother with distaste, "I thought you wanted straight action."

"I do," Ron sputtered indignantly, "Malfoy here is the one that started the whole thing!"

"He jumped on me!" Draco interjected, wiping at his face and blinking at Ginny with huge teary puppy eyes. He pulled his mouth down and hugged his blankie to his chest.

"Oooooooh poor baby!" cried Ginny, flinging herself down and cradled Draco to her chest. Cooing with ridiculous adoration, she stroked his tear drenched hair and patted his back. Draco let out a large burp and relaxed against her.

At that, Ron stood up quietly and made for the staircase, looking disgustedly back at Ginny schnoogling Draco.

"Hmmm..." he thought to himself. "I really can't stay here, Ginny wants to kill me, teachers want to have sex with me, and I refuse to take it! I'll go to Hogwarts, there are tons of hot girls there." He quickly summoned his broomstick (A Comet 260, but that's only the broomstick-broomstick-- not the other one- *snigger*) and flew off through the open window.

* * * * *

Oooh! A cliffhanger! Will Ron get to Hogwarts safely? Will Draco get his mojo back? Will Hermione ever stop moo-ing when she's upset??? These answers and more in the next episode of Draco Dexter!!!

Soooo. . . these are the authors' notes. "Authors'" is *plural* possessive because certain individual Teenage Witches chose to have their own A/N. BTW, this is Jess, current secretary, collaborator, and spell-checker of The Teenage Witches. And don't forget to be a responsible reader and review! Flame all you want, but remember- we have approximately 275 fans out there who reeeeeeeally don't like people who flame us. Just keep that in mind. . . =)

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I'd like to thank my makeup artist, my personal trainer, sirius "i am a prisoner in rave's washing machine and have to live on kibbles" black and draco ""toosexytolosemymojo" malfoy. Remember, kiddies: Plants have feelings too, even hormonally imbalanced sex-offender plants. Oh yes, and don't run with hedge-clippers. Thank you and good night. --rave

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Greetings peeps! I am proud to be the youngest teenage witch. I, like the others, take regular dips in the gutter, very refreshing. Why am I here? Well, there's madness running in my family's blood, what could I say? ~Serpentese/Hydy

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All for now, folks.