Draco Malfoy sauntered over to the Grryffindor table, wearing a goofy outfit and an even goofier expression. To Hermione's disgust, he sat down next to her. Ron and Harry stared at him, shaking with supressed laughter. Hermione allowed herself a small smile, although she hid it behind her Daily Prophet. He did look rather ridiculous.
Malfoy was wearing an absolutley outrageous getup. He wore ripped, baggy, dark-blue jeans that granted everyone an unsightly view of his green boxer shorts. He sported a white tank top that was too tight to even be legal. Printed on it were the words, " Like a Boss," whatever that meant. Thick gold chains hung around his neck, and Hermione was horrified to see that he had put in a large diamond earring! He was wearing a strange, round hat on his head with an odd kind of brim sideways on his head. It was black and yellow. And on his teeth- glittering silver grills!
" Waz shakin' peeps?" Malfoy's voice attracted many stares. It wasn't his normal accent. It sounded weird, harsh, clunky. And that language! What did it even mean? At everyone's blank stares, Malfoy grinned even broader, the sunlight relecting off the metal in his teeth and almost blinding Hermione. " Are you diggin' what I'm puttin' down, my home boyz?" Hermione giggled, she couldn't help herself. He sounded so funny. " Malfoy, have you been at the firewhiskey again?"
Hermione got the wrong reaction. Instead of giving her an answer, Malfoy turned his attention to her. He wolf-whistled, his eyes widening. " Dayuum! We got one fineeee chicka up in this joint! Forreaal! " She blushed. Hermione didn't understand what he was saying, put she was smart enough to know that he was checking her out. Ron rose.
" Stay away from her, Malfoy, or whoever you are," he snapped. Malfoy shrugged his shoulders. " Hey man, you can't blame a fella for callin' a hot babe when he sees one. Take a chill pill, would ya?" Harry couldn't take it anymore.
" What in Merlin's name is wrong with you! Leave us alone! "
Malfoy snapped his gum. " Dawg, take a look at yourself before you start askin' what's wrong with me. Those shades are so totally last year. " Harry stared. " Why are you talking like that? " he asked. He was beginning to get very annoyed with Malfoy. More than usual, anyway.
Malfoy got up from the table, his hands in the pockets of his absurdly low pants. " It's called the beastly American lingo, know what I'm sayin'?" Hermione put down her Prophet. " No, we don't, and we'd like you to get out."
Now it was Malfoy's turn to stare. " Honey, you gotta be trippin'. Imma New Yorker, everybody talks like dis!"
Hermione knew New York was a place in America. She had read that they were strange dressers. " You can drop the act, Malfoy," she said, folding her arms. " We know you're not really from New York." Ron whispered, " Where's that, Cuba?"
Malfoy frowned. When he spoke, his voice was finally back to normal. " I thought you would appreciate me more if I acted all cool and American." Everyone guffawed at this. Harry said through his laughter, " We'd hate you either way. " Malfoy, looking dissapointed, took off the ridiculous hat and threw it on the table. " You can keep that ugly thing." He slouched away. Amusedly, Harry picked up the hat and placed it on his head. It fit well. In fact, he rather liked it. Then again, maybe Americans weren't so weird after all...