Practice Makes Perfect
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Disclaimer- It's not mine and I'm glad. The work seems very stressful. I crack under that type of pressure.
Summary- You know what they say, practice makes perfect! Draco's day repeats like a broken record. Until he gets it right, of course.
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"Malfoy, where are you going?" Blaise asked carefully, watching as Draco stood from the Slytherin table. The reply he got was Draco looking at him oddly.
"Where do you think I'm going, Zabini? I do have classes to attend, you know." At Blaise's laughter, he asked what exactly was so amusing. Blaise replied with a simple, "it's Sunday," making Draco sit back down. The young Slytherin could have sworn it had been Sunday the previous day.
As he sat down, though, the front of his robes caught on his goblet, sending pumpkin juice splashing into his lap. As some people laughed, Draco groaned, attempting to clean his robes the best he could. He, again, stood. This time, though, he headed directly for the Slytherin common room. His day wasn't going well.
'My day isn't going well,' he decided simply, tugging his robes over his blond head after he got into the boy's dorm. Unfortunately, the robes didn't quite like the way his hair was styled that morning. Pulling them over his head messed up his hair completely. He groaned loudly as he walked over to his small bedside mirror. As he moved to pick it up, he accidentally hit it with his arm. It fell to the ground and shattered.
"Oh, yes, because I really need more bad luck," he sarcastically told the small, jagged pieces of glass. He went over to Blaise's mirror quickly, trying best as he could to fix his stubborn hair. Then Blaise came into the dorm. Draco glared at the mirror and carefully walked over to his trunk. He dug out his school robes.
"Draco, what the hell is up with you? We should have left already!" At Draco's blank expression, he continued. "The Quidditch match against Gryffindor?" Draco stopped his actions, giving Blaise a look that asked 'What the hell are you on about?' "Drae, man, you just put your robes on backwards. And you're gonna need Quidditch robes today. Have I mentioned we're late? What's with you today?" Draco sighed, taking his robes off and finding his Quidditch robes.
He pulled them on and grabbed his broom, looking confused. "Bad day," he replied. "I was sure we had that Quidditch match yesterday, Blaise, when we lost," he explained, heading out the dorm and down the stairs with his friend. "I mean, first, I think it's Monday and make a fool of myself," he started, now going out the common room exit. "Then I spill my pumpkin juice everywhere, almost forget the password, forget about the Quidditch match..."
"And put your robes on backwards," Blaise supplied. Draco glared.
"Yes," he admitted. "I messed up my hair, too." Then, once out of the common room, he walked right into one of the wandering suits of armor and fell down, obviously having no intentions of getting back up. "And now this." He swatted lightly at Blaise's feet as he laughed. Blaise finally controlled his laughter long enough to help his friend off the floor. "Just go without me, Blaise," Draco said dramatically. "Tell the Captain I'm dying of a dreadful disease."
"You are the Captain, Draco," Blaise replied seriously.
"Well, it saves you the trouble of telling the Captain, then. He already knows." He managed saying this with a straight face, thankfully, but Blaise pulled Draco along with him to the Great Hall and out onto the grounds. Tugging him in the direction of the Quidditch Pitch. Draco tried to pull away.
"No, this is for the cup, Draco. The. Cup. We can't let Potter win Gryffindor the cup again!" Blaise protested, holding Draco's arm in a death grip. "Besides, you have to give an inspirational speech." Draco growled.
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"Uh, yeah. So. Go out there and... Well, do whatever, I don't even care," Draco muttered to the team, only to be punched in the shoulder by Blaise. He glared at the spot on his shoulder that would soon be bruised.
"Fine," he said, now being professional. "All Gryffindor's points lie within them getting the Snitch. So, let me worry about that and, no matter what, score as much as possible. Do whatever it takes, they aren't that strict on the rules anymore. Push, shove, play rough, do whatever. Put us up by more than 150 points, and I'll do the rest." Everybody took that as a signal the speech was over and left the changing room.
Draco shook his head sadly, staring at the lockers. "We don't stand a chance."
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"Alicia Spinnet with the Quaffle, neck and neck with Blaise Zabini, I never did like him..." Draco shot an angry look at the stand the commentary was coming from. He looked around almost desperately for the Snitch. "And Gryffindor scores, Katie Bell with the assist!" Draco put a gloved hand to his face, shaking his head. His head going back up, he spotted it. The Snitch.
In the slightly-closed hand of a delighted looking Harry Potter.
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"It's fine, Draco, the Snitch practically came to him. People are saying it was charmed."
"It's fine? No it's not, Blaise, we still lost 230 to 10. That's not fine." His head was down on the table and his hair was dipping slightly into a weird food that nobody would touch, giving some of his hair a green color.
"Yeah, well, you still might want to get your hair out of that green stuff." With a horrified look, Draco jerked his head off the table and lunged for his spoon. Looking into it, he studied his hair. Blaise gave him a would-be sympathetic look. If it weren't for the look of about-to-be laughter. He gave Draco a 'playful' punch on the shoulder. "Showing Slytherin pride, eh?" he asked, grinning. Draco promptly hit him on the head with the spoon he was holding. Blaise shut up rather quickly. Draco stood up from the table and headed, once more, for the Slytherin common room.
He grabbed a newly cleaned towel with the Hogwarts crest on it and quickly headed for the Prefect's bathrooms.
"Oh, God, Hermione, I'm so sorry! I really didn't mean to, I just accidentally hit it and-"
"Parvati, it's fine. I mean, sure, it may make some of my skin purple for a few days, but, robes should cover most of it up. Seriously, there isn't a need to fuss about it. Go on back to dinner, I'll just go take my shower before this stuff drips everywhere, alright?" The girl had apparently agreed to that, since Draco heard approaching footsteps and fading ones. He groaned. He really had to face Granger after this horrible, long day? How Entirely unfair. But, of course, Fate was naturally unfair to all. Especially to Draco.
Hermione soon fell into step beside Draco, causing the boy to put as much distance between them as possible. She glanced quickly over at him, then looked back again.
"Malfoy, your hair... is kind of turning green." He looked over at her, scowling. She thought he didn't already know? For being dubbed the smartest Witch in the school, that wasn't very intelligent of her. Wait... 'Turning green?' As in, spreading?
"Excuse me, I happen to have already been informed of that little detail," Draco said, without thinking. "Wait, you say 'turning.' It's only green at the top." She shook her head, almost sadly.
"Not quite, Draco, it... Well, it's spreading." Spreading. Spreading. Oh, dear GOD,
'I have to get this stuff out of my hair now!' he decided, rushing into the guy's Prefect bathroom. A short distance away, he heard a clock chime twelve.
And then everything went black.
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A/N: YES! I am so, so, so, SO proud of the fact that I actually finished a chapter. I found this after a year from when I wrote it, and it STILL inspired me! So, yeah, wow. Proud. So, tell me if I should continue it! I think everyone's opinion counts when it comes to my writing.