Disclaimer: Harry Potter and the other characters are not mine.
A/N: This is a followup story to ABCDMHG and is also in the same universe as Therapy with Voldemort. But it can be read alone!!!!!
Ohh! A mirror! I ran over to the mirror hanging on the wall, and primped in front of it. I sighed happily at my reflection. I was so handsome. I stroked the mirror longingly. Oh, how wonderful. I look absolutely fantastic. Hermione is so lucky to have me as her husband.
I took the mirror off the wall, and held it in my hands, staring into my deep, swirling, grey eyes. I carried the mirror to the sofa, and set it down in my lap, still looking at my stunning, gorgeous reflection. I smiled at myself, showing my white pearly teeth in-between my luscious, pink, supple lips. I gasped at my smile. It was so perfect. Just like I was.
"Hey Hermione!" I glanced up. What was that accursed Potter barging into my house, and calling my wife for? The stupid, egoistic, idiotic, Gryffindor. "I got you a present! Well actually it's for Ferret-Boy here." Ferret Boy! How dare he call me Ferret Bo- Oh wait! Did he say present? For me? What did he have for me? My mind raced. Oh the possibilities!
"Harry! How many times do I have to tell you not to call Draco that?!" Hermione chided, defending me, for once. She had been in the kitchen, making her special secret recipe pancakes. She walked out, to the living room, were I was seated, while untying her apron.
"Many, many times. But, once again, I never listen to you," Harry replied excitedly. What was he so happy about? What does he have for me? He walked over to Hermione, and handed her a little slip of paper.
Hermione took a second to read over the paper, and during this second, her jaw dropped, her eyes widened, and she let out a little squeak. I looked at my wife worriedly. What was wrong? Suddenly, she snapped out of her daze, and glomped Harry, muttering "Thank you thank you thank you" Over and over again.
My curiosity sparked. What was on the slip of paper? I strode over to my wife and took the piece of paper from her hands.
My eyes skimmed the paper. My own jaw dropped. My eyes widened, just as my wife's had done. But I…I let out a scream instead of a squeak. A very manly scream, mind you. But a scream it was. I blacked out.
"Enneverate" I felt a tap on my shoulder. Groggily, I opened my eyes. I groaned and immediately shut them again, when they encountered a bright light. My head was throbbing. I felt…aching. Throbbing. What was going on?
"Mr. Malfoy. Will you please sit up straight so that we can proceed with this appointment?" I heard a firm, voice command me. I opened my eyes again, this time, more slowly as to not hurt them again. My eye sight focused and I saw Professor Snape, in all his ugly sallow skinned, hook-nosed glory, sitting in front of me. Seated behind a wooden, mahogany desk. A very ugly wooden, mahogany desk.
My memories came flooding back. Potter's present! This was Potter's present? Sending me to therapy with Snape, when I could be at home, marveling over my dazzling good-looks. And Hermione! My own wife! She had let him take advantage of the fact that I had fainted so that they could get me here, into his office.
I jumped up. Or at least tried to, only to discover the bonds, tightly wrapping my muscular form against the chair. I couldn't get up! I could barely even move. I looked up and sent Snape a patented Malfoy Trademark Death Glare.
Snape just let out a strange, barking laugh at my plight. His onyx eyes twinkled in that way that Dumbleodre's did. Well, before he was Avada Kedavra-ed and sent toppling down a 100-story tower.
I smirked back at him. Well, at least there is one thing I can take satisfaction in. I may be the one tied to a chair, but at least I wasn't as ugly Severus Snape. His repulsive, sallow, freakishly colored skin seemed even more abnormal in the dark room. His large, hooked nose seemed even bigger with the lighting here. I, obviously, still looked as wonderful as I always did.
"Mr. Malfoy, please refrain from commenting on my unattractiveness," Snape said in a dead-panned tone. Oops, I said that out loud? Oh well, it's true. I sent a smug smirk at snape, before resuming my struggles to get free. "Mr. Malfoy, if you continue doing that, the ropes will dig into your hands and feet."
I ceased my struggling right away, making sure to sit extra still. I obviously didn't want to get rope burns. Can you imagine such horrible blemishes marring my beautiful skin?! So, I just sat there, staring at Snape.
Snape, clapped his hands together (looking like a complete idiot) and said, "Ok. Now that you're calm, we can get started."
He looked up at the clock, his features took on an amazed look as he declared, "2 minutes."
I raised an eyebrow at his expression. Has anyone ever seen Snape amazed? Well let me tell you something, it's not a pretty sight. Not a pretty sight at all. Quite horrifying actually. Very Very Ugly. I just raised an eyebrow at his expression bemusedly.
"Only two minutes. Oh my God I love you!"
"Sorry but I'm married. And neither am I gay." I replied coolly.
"Not in that way, you idiotic child. No, it's just that Voldemort always took at least an hour of ranting before he let me start the therapy session," Snape said, still in a daze. He looked like he was going to cry tears of joy.
I was shocked. He expected me to act like the hideous snake bastard? How dare he assume such an atrocious thing! I am in no way, similar to that scaly, chinky-eyed, slit-nosed whatshisface. I voiced this opinion to Snape calmly.
And when I say calmly, I do, obviously, mean violently and angrily. Yes, I yelled at Snape, and I'm still alive. Amazing, right? Well, I'm full of amazing things.
He just looked at me, bored. Or well, I think he was bored. It's kinda hatd to tell. I keep getting distracted by his ugliness. "Okay, Mr. Malfoy we're going to start with this."
"Oh not the stupid ink blot test," I groaned, upon seeing the ink blot.
"It is not stupid. It is a classic! And classics never get old."
"It's not a classic. It's a cliché! And clichés do get old," I said.
"Just tell me what you see in this Mr. Malfoy." He was holding up that damn inkblot.
"No. Why should I? I am a Malfoy, not a madman. I refuse to stoop down to such a plebian level," I huffrd, wrinkling my nose in disgust. If I had my arms were free, I would have crossed my arms across my chest to emphasize my huff. But, they weren't free.
"So what? You want this to be some expensive, million dollar therapy session?"
"Yes please," I replied, smirking to myself. I examined my nails, as Snape thought. Eww there was speck of dirt! I flicked it out. There…perfect.
I heard Snape take a few deep breaths. I held my laughter in.
"Okay. Let's forgo this part then, because I doubt you will cooperate. No inkblots. Instead, we'll just talk." Snape said through gritted teeth. I was regaled by the aggravation in Snape's voice. I could practically see the smoke shooting out of his ears, like in those cartoons.
It gave me so much satisfaction to put him over the edge. To make him mad. And it was so easy to, even though I was the one tied to a chair.
"Well, why are you here," He said in an attempt to start the conversation.
"You already know why. My wife and potter decided that I need mental help and that you are the only one that can help me," I grumbled.
"Well, you are a bit on the eccentric side, Mr. Malfoy. You're always fussing over yourself."
"Well of course I am! How can I not fuss over such a striking, Apollo-like man. I mean, Have you seen me? I have the perfect face. The perfect body. And a soulful heart," I said dreamily. "If I could, I would marry myself."
"Interesting. Go on. Please go on," Snape urged, scribbling down notes into a little notebook.
I took the opportunity to talk about myself gladly, "I have beautiful eyes, and a charismatic personality. I have tons and tons of fan clubs located all over the world. And girls proposing to me everywhere I go."
"Yes, interesting. Keep going," he was scribbling frantically now, occasionally glancing over at a book that was lying open on his desk.
"Of course it's interesting. I mean who wouldn't want to hear about me? I'm to wonderful to ignore."
"Okay, Mr. Malfoy. That is enough talking. I think I know what is wrong," he declared, holding up a hand.
"But I was just getting started," I whined. Yes, I whined. A very manly whine though. Almost as manly as my scream was. I wanted to talk about myself. I let out a huff and slouched in my seat. "Fine then. What now?"
"Nothing. You can leave. I have your diagnosis, but I need to double check it with my books and with some other resources. Come back tomorrow for your results," Snape replied, dismissively waving his wand in my direction to set me free.
I let out a whoop of joy as the bonds fell off of me, and apparated straight home.
"Oh dear," Hermione whispered, holding the diagnosis in her hands. Her hands were clenched tightly, crumpling the paper. She turned around, her shoulders trembling. My mind raced. What was wrong with me? Was I going to die?
I took a deep breath and walked up to my wife, enveloping her from behind. I laid my head on her shoulder, watching the tears run down her face.
Wait a minute! She wasn't crying tears of sadness. She was just laughing. Laughing so hard that she was crying. I growled and snatched the paper from her hands.
My eyes widened as I read the words written across the top.
I am sorry to inform you, but Mr. Draco Malfoy has an Obsessive Compulsive Disorder…with himself.
I fainted for the second time in two days.
Yes, I was very manly. Don't doubt my manliness.
A/N: Did you like it?
Please review. I got so many reviews for ABCDMHG that I practically started crying with happiness. No seriously though, I was smiling all day...
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