Draco Who?

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I make no money from these writings.


A/N: Wow, um, not sure how to do this, but this is my first foray into the world of Harry Potter fan fiction, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Beta’d by the AMAZING SoftObsidian74, whose own fics are uber amazing, and I DEMAND you all go read them (after you read this, please )! It is also dedicated to Ilke (read her AMAZING fic too!) and Soft, who gave me the inspiration, support, and newfound friendship that made this story possible! You two are the best! Dramione 4-Ever Bitches!

Draco Who?

Here it is, 2 am, and I, Draco “Hide your mother-fucking daughters” Malfoy am trying not to get caught leaving the Hufflepuff dorms. Now mind you, I’m walking with my usual aristocratic posture (good breeding, that), and typical swagger (I call it a birthright), so I don’t look like I’m sneaking.


Hell, I’m walking like I own the place (which I could, I practically shit galleons….hmm, pretty sure I could if I tried, but anyway, but where was I? Oh, yes…), walking like I own the place. It’s not Filch or Mrs. Norris I don’t want to see me, as a matter of fact, I would welcome detention spit shining all the rubies of the Gryffindor House points, (bloody white hats), than be seen by any of the gossiping hens in this bloody school LEAVING THE HUFFLEPUFF DORMS!


Because, yes, I Draco “Fuck your daughters, hide your wives” Malfoy just finished shagging, and getting shagged into the mattress, floor, and canopy (amazing what a good levitation and concealing charm can do), none other than (shudder) Hufflepuff Susan Bones, and DAMN, if that Pufflestuff didn’t give me one of the greatest shags of my young life (this month)!


Next morning-The Great Hall


Alright, now it gets messy (and terribly repetitive, I mean really, don’t they know the rumors by now? I’m legendary!) Ok, she’s going to walk in, catch (I throw them a bone, love the buildup before the big fall) my eye, blush, giggle, scamper away, trip, or my favorite, faint dead away (what? It could happen!). Here she comes with her “witnesses” (because they all want to know if I’m really THAT good, so THEY can be next), looking like a swarm of bees, and the blush/giggle/faint (WHAT?) in three…two…(ice-grey smolder at the ready)…one, and…and…


WHAT THE FUCK?


She didn’t even look my way? Oooh, ok, she’s one of those. Ahh, never let it be said that I, Draco “Yes sir, that is your daughter on my dick, and your wife on my face” Malfoy don’t love a challenge (but since I’m used to this game, it’s not really much of one, now is it?). Now she’ll sit with her cronies, she’ll whisper “did he see, did he see me, did he see me ignoring him? I’m so cool, and aloof, and seductive, he’ll be falling all over me, just watch!” (Hmmph, not bloody likely). The platters of eggs and racks of toast will become fascinating (because really, Huffle-poofs are easily entertained), until she accidentally on purpose looks up, sees my Romanesque profile, the sun glinting off my hair, making me look like a fallen angel (sigh, where do they come up with this drivel?), and my devilish panty-wetting smirk™ (now that one is real, I can smell em’, it’s the perfect chiseled nose and all), ‘til I deign (I’m good at deigning, I should trade mark that too, I’ll have Father look into it) to look her way. I’ll sneer, dab the corners of my mouth with her panties, and then ‘incindio’ them for her, and her whole hive, effectively letting her know she’s served her higher purpose (what? I gave it to her good, like a Malfoy always will! Malfoy’s never should have do anything, we do what we want, it’s not our fault it turns out mattress/floor rug/canopy soaking perfect!), and continue (with nothing less than impeccable table manners, of course) my breakfast, while she cries into her cup of chamomile (I hear it’s quite soothing, it should help, oh who am I kidding, I’m burned into her brain, no flower laced water is erasing me that easily!)


Not once, not once, has she looked this way, and I’m almost finished with my fifth cup of coffee (my bladder is about to bloody burst, but if it does, I assure you it will be a most elegant puddle, more than likely in the shape of the Malfoy Crest, but I won’t let it come to that, I assure you)! Fine, the little bint hasn’t the slightest idea who she’s dealing with, does she? (Silly Huffle-Punk)


I rise, with the aristocratic poise befitting my position, both in the Wizarding World, and as the Crown Prince of Slytherin (and yes, Slytherin Sex God, because come now, look at me), nod to my underlings (everyone at my table who isn’t me) and exit The Great Hall with dignity, sophistication, and delicious sensuality (I see you looking, Trelawny, you can suck on my crystal balls if you think you’re getting anywhere near this). Taking my position against the bottom of the staircase, I affect a casual pose, examining my nails (perfect, as always, even without that ungrateful nutter Dobby, I mean honestly, he would have eaten eventually, but my nails needed to shine! The more reflective surfaces are for me to see myself in, the better!) It’s only a matter of time before she pulls away from the rest of the Honey-Pees to swoon properly in the hall and purr (really, can badgers purr? She’s not a bloody cat, like that orange monstrosity of Grangers! Honestly! They say animals take on the characteristics of their owners, but did they really find it necessary to share the same hair style, and why in Merlin’s name would they want to?)


I’ll listen to her suggestions for what we could do next (we? I think not Stuffin-Huff, but I’m sure the ladies of Hogwarts will thank you later for your useful, if not horribly creative ideas), and then send her running off, making enough noise and dripping enough fluids (though no where near as pleasing to the eye as anything a Malfoy would drip, if Malfoy’s dripped, which we don’t thank you very much!) to give Moaning Myrtle a run for her money!


Let’s see, eyes narrowed, with just a hint of boredom, looking down the same nose generations of Malfoy men have looked down before (because really, is there any other way to look at somebody?). Ahhh…there she is, eyes bright and expectant, the dawning of a smile….now that’s more like it, too bad she’s going to wish she was face to the business end of a blast ended skrewt, but, eh…

Just as a scathing remark about the apparent inferiority of her house, and how despite my enjoyment of “beating her badger” poises itself on my skillfull and multitalented tongue as well as any hopes of (excuse me here, had to swallow back a bit of my breakfast) us that must be promptly dashed, because well, that’s just mental was about to fall from my, overtly sensual lips, she’s waving at some Ravenclaw pouf and walking off to classes! (I don’t dare turn my head to see this little bit, rather watch with horror, but to the common man, reading bored indifference, in the reflection of a window,(see, told you I like reflective surfaces!) This is madness! That’s twice now the little chit has ignored me…me! I’m a Malfoy, quite fit, more galleons in Gringotts than a Weasel has freckles, devastatingly handsome to all (For the last time Finch-Fletchly, I. Don’t. Swing. That. Way.! anymore. Firewhiskey, and the Slytherin tradition of Dare and Dare, can help teach a young wizard what he likes, that’s all.) I make my way to the dungeon for Potions, this is most unsettling….

Dinner-The Great Hall

She’s not supposed to be the one ignoring me, ashamed of me, I’m a Slytherin, she’s a bleeding Hufflepuff, I’m Draco “What the fuck is going on here” Malfoy, and she’s A BLEEDING HUFFLEPUFF! Didn’t she read the pamphlet on her pillow the first night she was sorted? Draco Malfoy was to be revered and fawned over! Gods! It was all right there! This is not right, it’s as unnatural as a Weasley and birth control potions; it just doesn’t happen! Yes, I may sound conflicted to you, maybe in a little pain, but rest assured, what I am presenting to my fellow Slytherins (the only time they will ever be put on even keel with me, because in actuality, I am the Slytherin!), well really to my roasted chicken and asparagus, is an Avada worthy glare, that alerts all of them that Draco “yes Daphne, I fucked your little sister, and she , like you, was dragonshit in the sack, and tell your mother to stop owling me, it’s over” Malfoy, is not to be trifled with tonight. Having grown tired of visually massacring my dinner, I rise and head to where I can have some quiet to think, the library.


Entering, I nod to Pince (yes, I saw the way you licked your finger when you turned the page of that book, have some respect for the tomes and my young eyes, Madam), and retreat to a far table in the back of the library, grateful there are no third year anythings to hex, and take a seat for some quiet reflection. I, Draco “I knew I shouldn’t have moaned ‘Oh Holy Mother of Merlin’ when she did that thing with her tongue Malfoy”. Stupid! She got too confident, it’s like she sucked some of my Malfoy-osity (yes it’s a word, look it up in the Malfoy family dictionary, IF YOU DARE!), which technically she did, and she swallowed, such a trooper….NO! No! I will not let my thoughts, drift back to that looney bint, I need to move on, all this self-reflection is just not on!

Move on, yes, that’s the way, move on, and don’t look back. I’ll admit, this kind of shook me (barely a nudge, but still). Gods! Is this how they feel after I’ve blessed them with the walking god that is me? (that, and aftershock orgasms that last through first period, the day after that is)? All this insight is making me feel, dare I say more mature, more in touch with the inner workings of Draco “put your daughters’ away, the MAN is back” Malfoy (ok, maybe not entirely mature).

But honestly, what’s going to happen? I’ll actually spend time getting to know the next girl, before I decide to bed her? Spending hours studying in companionable silence, while throwing witty barbs back and forth, challenging each other and everything we know every step of the way? Will she be so perfect for me that ANY fool can see it, can see how we compliment each other, how despite our differences, we just make sense? But what about sex? (let’s not forget the important things here people) will she let me show her everything there is to know about pleasure, and pain, will she trust me enough to let me show her, and will the idea of me actually caring that she trusts me not send me running for the hills, and instead running towards her? And what about her? Will she show me a thing or two? Will she willingly walk into the serpents’ lair, and give herself completely to me, causing me to have to ‘accio’ my jaw from the floor, or will she be quite the fiery minx, turning everything I thought I knew on it’s ear? Will she like it rough, or slow and sensual? Will she let me express my natural dominance (hello, Malfoy here!), and allow me to paint her back in a litany of red stripes, sending her to a most delicious subspace , or maybe involve me in something as wild as a foursome, with two other blokes (I’m not even going to think about the hippogriffs flying madly in my stomach over that one)? My deviant thoughts are interrupted by footsteps and voices.


“Yes Ms. Pince, I used gloves when I read it as well…...yes ma’am, I returned it yesterday, a week before it was due,….. yes, ma’am, yes, thank you for the recommendation, I’m going to read it right now). I spotted her hair, before I even bothered to look anywhere else, (looks like she decided to chuck it all, dye it brown, and just wear her cat on her head). She turned around, and with a sneer worthy of a Malfoy (what, I can be honest, mostly, and it was impressive), “Malfoy”, she said curtly, as she placed the books on the table. Now this, this is exactly the type of distraction that I need. A nice little challenge to help me forget about this whole maturity thing, (I mean, what was I thinking, I’m safe, all that stuff couldn’t happen with……) “Mmmmm, (insert panty-wetting smirk™ here) well, hello there, Granger. (Now this could get interesting.)

The End

A/N #2: Please Review on your way out!


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