The Deepest, Fluffy Depths of the Soul
By Haeli J (haeli_j@yahoo.com)
bluepajamas.lunaticsworld.com
(DISCLAIMER. I'm not making any money off this. I don't own Harry Potter or anything related to it, which includes the Malfoys and Death Eaters and all that nasty stuff. JK Rowling and her publishers and WB etc. etc. does, and I envy them.)
(warning: humor, angst, and fuzzy bunnies.)
In the upper-upperclass of society, familial obligation means everything. One is expected to sacrifice anything and everything for the family name and the continuation of the line. Any action that may be considered improper is strictly forbidden. The family name means everything.
One such family in the wizarding world is that of the Malfoys.
Some might call them revered and respected. Others might call them infamous, feared, and despicable.
But whatever outsiders thought of them, one thing was for certain - the name of Malfoy was not to be trifled with, and never to be disrespected... neither from others, nor from within.
*Especially* not from within.
Young Draco Malfoy, the youngest of the family and the primary heir, understood this well. He had been raised knowing that he would someday head the Malfoy house, and that this position required respect, obedience, and above all, behavior befitting a Malfoy.
It was for this reason that Draco Malfoy hid a secret.
Having secrets was nothing particularly new to a Malfoy, of course. Malfoys throughout the ages had had various deep, dark, disgusting scandalous secrets about themselves that had been protected by the family - and some that even the family had never known about.
Draco's secret was one that could never be discovered by the family, for he knew full well that if it were revealed it would mean his end. For Draco Malfoy's secret was neither dark, nor disgusting, and would only be considered scandalous by other members of his family.
Draco's secret was... fuzzy.
With floppy ears.
And cute little pink noses and fluffy cotton tails.
Draco opened his cupboard every night with the utmost care, making absolutely no one was there watching, no house ghosts, no house elves, not even the portraits hanging on the walls. He kept the cupboard tightly locked with the best locking spells he could manage. when he was sure everyone was asleep, he would open the closet, and with a few leaves of fresh lettuce and a dish of water, he would whisper-
"Hello, Florence! Here, Gilda!"
A moment's searching revealed two fuzzy bunnies, one white and one speckled brown, usually huddled up together in a corner asleep or chewing on a block of wood. Draco picked up Gilda and scratched her behind the ears, and did the same to Florence. Then he would sit quietly and talk to the bunnies for a bit as they munched their fresh lettuce and lapped at the water.
"You have such a simple life, Gilda," Draco said one night with a sigh. "Just eating, hopping, drinking, sleeping... and the other stuff," he whispered as he petted Gilda's soft brown fur. "you don't have to deal with the pressures of being a human. No homework for bunnies... no insufferable git bunnies named Potter... no Death Eater Bunnies wanting to recruit you into their secret evil bunny society..."
Gilda chewed her lettuce and stared blankly at him with big black bunny eyes.
Draco rolled his eyes. "I guess I shouldn't expect you to understand, Gilda. You're just a bunny, after all." Draco patted Gilda on her fluffy head and set her down next to Florence. "G'night, girls... see you tomorrow night." Draco stood to exit his cupboard - and found himself face-to-face with his father.
"There you are, boy," Lucius Malfoy said, his trademark sneer ever-present. "I'm guessing you *forgot* about the meeting tonight. Honestly, how can you *ever* expect to adequately serve the Dark Lord if you can't even follow a simple timeta...ble..." Lucius trailed off and his eyes fixed on a point behind Draco.
"Are those..." Lucius's cheek twitched and he glared into the space in the closet behind Draco. "...bunnies?"
Draco hung his head. So much for his pets. "Yes, sir."
"Fuzzy... fluffy... CUTE... *BUNNIES?*"
Draco was a bit taken aback. He hadn't expected a reaction quite *this* vehement. "Er... Yes, sir."
"BUNNIES? MY SON HAS *BUNNIES?* WHAT KIND OF DEATH EATER KEEPS *BUNNIES?*"
"I... I don't know, sir..."
"YOU... you..." Lucius's tone was calming down, but something about it made Draco even more uneasy. "You're not cut out to be a Death Eater."
Draco knew this already, but the fact that Lucius had finally figured it out as well was a very bad sign. "No, sir! I am, I can be a-"
Lucius pulled out his wand. "And, as such, nor are you fit to be a Malfoy."
Two words and a blast of green light, and Draco fell to the floor, dead.
Lucius put his wand away, shaking his head. "Pity. now I need a new heir. That means shagging the wife." He shuddered at the thought. "Ah, well... Maybe it won't be so bad if I put sleeping potion into her dinner." An evil grin passed his face. "I do believe I'm in the mood for rabbit stew...
THE END
speshul pl33b vershen (note: to be taken even less seriously than the first)
drako haz bunys but he duzent want ne1 2
find owt
hes tawking 2 thim 1 nite and cumplening abot hims lif
win his dady cums in and sas Y DO U HAV BUNYS
thin lushis kils him 4
having bunys b/c gud deth eeters dont
hav bunys
thee ind
