Attack of the Sues

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story was written as a challenge to write a Mary Sue parody story with a Mary Sue character the reader likes. It contains purple prose, wildly OOC characters, and as many clichés as I could fit in one story. Consider yourself warned!

Times being what they were, and priorities sitting as they did, Melany Darkenston-Malfoy couldn't exactly call herself an academically minded student. It wasn't that she didn't like school - well, she didn't - it was just that going to school was pretty much the last thing she ever wanted to do. Who needed seven years of magical practice when your dad was so evil that the magical community quite literally shook in fear from just mentioning his name? No one, that's who. And especially not Melany Darkenston-Malfoy.

If it were up to her, good old Mel would have spent her time bewitching spiders and listening to angry, upsetting rock music so loud that the whole manor shook. If it were up to her, she would never ever have to wear a school uniform. In fact, if it were up to her, learning would be required only for the poor, Muggle-born, and ugly. Rich, beautiful, pure-blooded witches like Melany did not need a so-called "education". What thick-as-a-brick low life needed to learn Defence Against the Dark Arts? She didn't need to defend herself - she embraced it! At fifteen, Melany was the youngest death eater amongst her father's followers. For safety's sake she went by another name - a name her mother Narcissa had invented for her - and was known amongst the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as Draco Malfoy's poor, orphaned cousin.

So take that and shove it, Potter.

Melany liked being a Darkenston-Malfoy, though. She liked being different from everyone else. She loved the attention she could get on Mother's and Father's Day each year. She loved that when someone criticised her for wearing all black on weekends she could turn to the offender and say, 'I'm not an emo, I'm mourning my parents' passing,' and then watch their smug face crumble. She loved that at the end of the year she didn't have to go home to a hole in Surry like the Golden Boy did. She got to spend her summer with the Malfoy clan. It was practically heaven. Plus, her half-brother Draco ran around the manor topless, and she secretly thought he was pretty yummy.

It's not incest if your fathers are different, right?

Unfortunately for Melany, to get to summer holidays she had to slog her way through school term. School term meant classes. For Melany it mostly meant skiving, detention, and talking her way out of failing. See, passing classes meant doing the work, and doing the work meant showing up. And those were the two things she didn't do in practically all but one class: Potions.

Despite the greasy, despite the want to teach Defence against the Dark Arts, despite... well, pretty much despite Professor Snape in general, Melany had a major thing for the Potions master. It was all about attitude, and Snape had the angry, bitter, I-couldn't-give-a-damn-now-get-out-of-my-office thing down. Plus, Snape, alike to Melany, had an affinity for the colour black. And who doesn't love a fellow gothic? The man was practically her dream boat: snippy, dark, resentful, bad guy past, Dark Mark on his arm, a grudge against Gryffindors... the list was never ending.

It was because of this ridiculous crush that Melany found herself making an effort (and flirting shamelessly) in Potions class. She handed her assignments in on time, she put time into studying, and she never talked in class when Snape talked. She talked the rest of the time - that was a given - but when Severus Snape opened his mouth, Melany melted into a big puddle of goo on the floor.

This lust for his deep, sexy voice did lead to one little problem, however. Everything Snape said went in one ear and out the other. Despite listening as hard as she could, and concentrating her best, Melany would get so caught up in SnapeSnapeSnapey that she would always make a mistake. Her first class back in her fifth year was definitely no exception.

The day started well. Being as it was her first day back at school, Melany, being Melany, had done everything in her power to make a good first appearance in class. She'd even opted to skip the class previous, just so she could make sure that her hair was voluminous enough, and that her shirt was buttoned just low enough so that she could lean forwards at the right time and Snape would get an eyeful of buxom, bouncy, fifteen-year-old breast. She yanked up her skirt a little higher, pulled down her shirt a little lower, and checked the thick, carefully drawn line of black makeup around her eyes. Perfect, not that it was hard with her looks.

Melany was, without a doubt, a great beauty. More than that! She was ridiculously good looking, well endowed, and even had perfect teeth. Nothing about her, from her long, pin straight, silvery-blonde hair, to her wide, icy blue eyes that changed colour in the light, was out of place. Her lips were puffy, pouted pillows, and her skin was a perfect porcelain palette. In fact, all of her could be described by alliteration. Her breasts were perky, her face was pulchritudinous, and her brain, considering its use, was practically pristine. Everything in the world had its rightful place, and Melany Darkenston-Malfoy was the beautiful gothic daughter of Narcissa Malfoy and Lord Voldemort himself.

And then Melany went to Potions.

Their task today, as simple as Professor Snape had declared it was, was to produce a potion to remove warts by using the professor's hand-written notes on the blackboard. This morning was barely different to any other, because when she looked up to his spidery, chalk handwriting, every single ingredient suddenly became a garbled mess of, "throw it all in; stir". And that was she did. One by one, Melany tossed her ingredients into her cauldron until it resembled something heliotrope with the consistency and odour of over-cooked pea soup. And then, as Snape abused Harry across the class room for cutting a root hexagonally instead of vertically, the worst possible thing happened.

The cauldron exploded.

A wave of purple sludge sky rocketed across the classroom with an almighty boom, and all of the students sitting at Melany's table were thrown backwards by the aftershock. As the rancid potion came down there came three startled cries, and then the satisfying squelch as it landed on the three dowdiest students in the room: the three American exchange students.

Melany could remember them well enough from when they'd lined up outside the dungeons before class. The three of them, all of them awkward and shy, had hidden in the shadows furthest from the door, and then had seated themselves at a table on their own. All three of them were dull, plain-looking girls. The first was an average looking creature with fuzzy red hair and terrible split ends, and a dull expression on her thin face. The second was Asian, a short creature, and flat as a board, with brown hair pulled tight into a bun at the nape of her neck, and thick, coke-bottle glasses hiding her round face. The third was the shortest of the three, and something pudgy. She had long, flat black hair in two pigtails that, teamed with her small face, made her look four-years-old.

Now, however, all three girls were covered top to toe in bright violet potion. It slopped off their school robes and clung to their hair and faces. The red haired girl began to sob loudly, and snorted in her hysteria.

Across the room, Professor Snape looked up. When he sighed angrily, Harry ducked down as low as he could, his arms shielded above his head.

'What is this mess,' said Snape, because his voice was so flat that it barely registered as a question.

'P-p-pleeease, siiir,' stuttered the black-haired girl, her nasal voice teaming with her thick accent so it sounded like a thousand needles shoved into Melany's delicate ears, 'that giiirl's p-p-potion exploded.'

Snape glanced up at Melany. 'Did you do this, Miss Darkenston-Malfoy?'

Melany only blinked. 'I made a mistake, Sever - uh, sir - and my potion might have exploded. But only a little bit.'

Snape cocked an eyebrow. 'You made a mistake?' he asked.

'But only a little one,' Melany added. 'I'm really, really sorry, sir.'

'I should make you clean this mess up without magic,' he said, and motioned to the rest of the classroom. There was purple goop all over tables and chairs and all through the cupboards.

Melany made herself as charming as she could. She turned her icy blue eyes to the professor, and batted her long lashes at him. 'Oh please, sir, don't make me clean the classroom. Have someone else do it instead.'

If there was such a class as Negotiations 101, Melany would beat even that bookworm, Granger. She was a champion at winning people over.

Professor Snape considered it for a moment, glanced back towards the Gryffindors, and then nodded to Melany. 'You pose a fair argument, Miss Darkenston-Malfoy. Alright then.' He turned back to the Gryffindors. 'Potter, stay behind after class and clean up this mess by hand. If I see even a speck of purple when you're finished, you'll have detention with me for a month. And you, Longbottom, take these girls up to the hospital wing.'

Neville packed his things together as quick as he could, and then steered the three girls out of the classrooms without glancing back. Across the room, Harry's mouth flapped open and shut like a goldfish, and then, when Snape looked away, he sent the dirtiest look he could muster towards Melany. Of course, it had nothing on Melany's own black look: her name had dark meanings (roughly translated, it meant "Black Black Blackety Blackblack"). The glance she sent him back left him gawking for numerable moments.

'Oh, Melany,' said Draco, his voice filled with great appreciation for Melany's talent and negotiation skills, 'you're truly amazing.'

'All in a day's work,' she replied. It was, most definitely, a day's work to get Potter into as much trouble as physically possible. And Draco, her best friend, her half-brother, the possible love of her life, would always be there to laugh at his stupid face right along with her. He, and all of the Slytherin students, of course.

Blaise, for example. Blaise Zabini, the dark stallion of Slytherin house. What a sex god. What a man whore. What a catch. Despite her best efforts to seduce Blaise in previous years, he had told her that, without a doubt, he has his eyes on someone else, and had given up on the life of a sexed-up teenage boy. Pansy said he didn't even masturbate. He was saving himself for that one person. So far, there was only one clue to who the love of Blaise's life was: the letter D. Blaise, like ever so many ridiculously crushing fourteen-year-old girls, would scribble "B + D" on the back of his parchment in class, and then surround those letters in a big, cheesy heart. As much as Melany had teased him that his mystery lover was in fact Hermione Granger, she wasn't stupid enough to forget that none of Hermione's names started with a D.

As far as Melany knew, there was only one person who Blaise knew well that started with the letter D.

Blaise and Draco were best friends, but in an almost gay way, because Blaise liked to hug Draco a lot, or stare at him when he thought no one was watching, and call him pet names like "pumpkin". With her incredible deduction skills, Melany had almost come to the conclusion that Blaise was in love with Draco, but that barely made sense. Blaise couldn't possibly be gay. Plus, it would completely ruin the whole set-up-and-reveal thing that's planned for the story. So Melany didn't think anything of it, assuming that she thought at all.

The more she considered it, the harder the guessing became. Blaise was a very attractive young man. Surely he wouldn't go for any girl with her legs open (as long as she was ugly, at least). There had to be a reasonably attractive girl at Hogwarts whose name started with D. Surely she wasn't the only good looking girl this school possessed!

Surely she'd have to kill the bitch if there was.

It was the morning after the horrible potions incident that Melany made her first guess as to who the ever-mysterious D was. And it was probably the worst day of her entire life, ever. She wandered into the great hall, expecting, as usual, that all eyes would turn to her and gawk as she crossed to the Slytherin table. She expected point blank that someone would at least compliment the wall of strawberry smelling gold that was her hair. But, even as she flipped her incredible, silvery-blonde locks, no one looked at her. Not an eye. Not a single bloody eye. Sitting at her table, she found that even Draco and Blaise were looking at things other than her. Blaise was quietly reading, while Draco was staring across... at the Gryffindor table?

'What are you looking at?' she asked.

'Huh?' asked Draco. His voice was all gooey like someone had reached into his ear and pulled out his brains.

'He's looking at the American exchange students,' said Blaise without glancing up. 'Since they came downstairs from the Gryffindor common room this morning no one's been able to keep their eyes off any of the three of them. They've got quite an audience.'

Melany's stunning azure eyes widened in shock. 'Those dowdy girls that were covered in my potion yesterday? But they have split ends!'

Blaise glanced up at her and shrugged. 'I think your potion must have transformed them or something. They're not exactly dowdy anymore. Have a look for yourself.'

Melany turned towards the Gryffindor table, and there, smiling and chatting and eating while the great hall gawked at them, were three so-beautiful-it's-getting-absurd girls. One - the dull red head - had been transformed into a tall, tanned goddess with increasingly voluminous fiery locks and bright, stunning green eyes that were so deep they could pierce your very soul. Her thin but curvy frame moved with the grace and poise of a dancer. She even looked elegant leaning across her companions to pick up an extra piece of toast. Plus, as soon as she leaned forwards like that, you could see everything. Melany was shocked the girl's shirt could stay buttoned with a rack that size, let alone whether she could stand.

To the red head's right was the newly-transformed Asian girl with long, curly chestnut hair and doll-like features. Her wide brown eyes were surrounded by thick black lashes, and her mouth pouted like a ripe red plum as she smiled across at Ron Weasley. This one was shorter than the last, but her bosom was just as huge, and just as heaving. She'd even taken off her tie and unbuttoned the top buttons of her school shirt so that her well-endowed cleavage spilled out between the v that the material, pulled taught, made.

The worst thing, though, was that Ginger and Booby McCleavage weren't the last of the gorgeous fest. Of course there had to be one more. Of course she had to be the most attractive of the three. Of course she had to turn around at the last minute, and her thick raven hair had to catch in the sunlight and shimmer just so, and the scent of her perfect locks had to float across the room so that everyone who breathed it in sighed like it was the best thing they'd ever smelled. Her bright eyes glimmered as her perfect pink lips shaped an innocent, coy smile. She raised her hand - a petite little thing with perfectly manicured nails - to her chest - which Melany realised was where all the pudge had gone - and then she caught Melany's gaze and the smile turned up a few million watts. She got up then, and as she walked across the space between the Gryffindor and Slytherin table, life seemed to blossom from where her feet had been standing. Tiny little flowers split through the floorboards and created little pools of nature around the Great Hall.

Finally, the girl, her jet black locks swaying and her giganto bust bouncing, stopped in front of Melany.

'You must be Melany,' she said, her voice like a nightingale's song. 'I just wanted to tell you that I forgive you for what happened yesterday. I know it was a mistake, and I'm sure we can be the best of friends, despite being in different houses.'

Melany glanced across at Blaise, who merely shrugged.

'Hubbabulubbah,' said Draco.

The raven-haired girl smiled. 'I have to go to class now, but I'll be sure to see you again soon. It's so wonderful to meet you, Melany.' And with that, the three girls left the great hall.

'Hubbabulubbah,' said Draco.

Melany turned back to Blaise, furious, her head snapping back so fast that she gave herself whiplash. 'What was that?!' she bellowed.

Blaise shrugged again. 'That was D'Arcy Jessamene de Smytheford. I think she was making friends with you. She's very pretty.'

She's... she's very pretty? Pretty was the understatement of the century! Melany had mosquito bites for cleavage in comparison to this bird. Her hair shone so bright that fires started when the sun reflected off it. Everyone was staring at her, and Blaise thought she was--

And then it hit. B + D = Blaise + D'Arcy. That had to be it! No wonder he claimed she was pretty. He fancied her! The girl he was saving up for was D'Arcy! It had to be. The reason he wasn't looking at her was because he thought she thought he didn't exist.

Well, that just wasn't on. How dare that scrawny, skanky, brains-in-her-bosom bitch deny her friend! Melany wouldn't have it. However, where Melany would usually make a giant scene out of it and make the girl take notice of Blaise, she now had one up on the situation. This girl, D'Arcy, wanted to be her friend. She didn't have to pull the charm and negotiation skills of a world class negotiator out to get this girl to bonk her mate. All she needed to do was to introduce them - to make D'Arcy notice Blaise and fall for him, too. He'd be forever grateful to her, and maybe even put in a good word to Draco. Then, it would be a win in both books! Blaise would have D'Arcy, and Melany would finally get a piece of hot, half-brother Draco. Plus, with this plan, she could cut Skanky and the Sluts down to size, because no one but no one was better looking in this school than Melany Darkenston-Malfoy.

All she needed now was a smaller skirt and some implants.