Author Notes: Alright. Here goes—the commencement of my first fanfiction. A rather silly one, just an idea I was toying with. Feedback will be appreciated.
There will be Crabbe/Goyle bashing here. Not that I don't love them—I do—but if you're offended by Crabbe/Goyle portrayed as complete idiots, or if this kind of silly fic just isn't your bowl of soup, make use of your back button please.
Disclaimer: Oh, do use your common sense. JKR owns everyone here. Even Draco. And, and, the title was swiped from the song Unwell, by Matchbox 20.
Unwell(or)
The Crabbe Catastrophe
(or)
Crabbe, anyone?
```````````
I'm not crazy
I'm just a little unwell
I know, right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
```````````
It was a normal day.
Quite ordinary, one would say. I mean, there was simply nothing that could or would go wrong because—well, the day just emanated an aura of righteousness.
Therefore, Draco Malfoy's usual arrogant swagger was as evident as ever, glaring menacingly at most, but throwing a few (what he thought was) sexy smirks to a selective few who were deserving of the honor.
Yes, indeed, life was just the way it should be. Him, the Blonde Haired Adonis being the higher deity over silly Potty, Weasel and Mudblood.
Him, the Blonde Haired Adonis being favored over everyone else.
And of course, something he had learned to take for granted—Him, the Blonde Haired Adonis being wittier and far more intellectual than any other. You could say he was omniscient, if you really wanted to.
Upon staring at the two blobs that seemed to be following him ( they did so often), he let out a small sigh. Who could ever be stupider than them? I mean, if he were ever as stupid or as ugly as they were, he just might die.
It would be utter disgrace—no, beyond that. In fact, it was already tainting his reputation that the blobs, Crabbe and Goyle, refused to go act dimwitted somewhere else—rather, they preferred grunting stupidly at all of Draco's insult sprees, following him like a two-person Draco Fan Club. The poor things considered him Their Blonde Haired Adonis.
Not that he minded that much. Just the bit where they were, well, dumb. He wouldn't mind a nice conversation here and there.
But despite all that, Draco Malfoy was also an optimist, and he would never let such a trivial thing ruin his day—for in fact, it was the eve before the Yule Ball, or, Yule Ball Eve, and due to the latest case of lethargy, he found himself wandering the halls with Blob 1 and Blob 2, wondering who would be worthy of his affections.
There were many eligible bachelorettes, no doubt, but most likely, the others of the male population had already taken the time to ask them. Quite complicatedly, he might add—it wasn't a bloody proposal, or even Valentine's day, yet some found fit to go down on one knee, offering the girl in question a single red rose.
Why, if it was he who was asking the aforementioned girl, all he would need to do was simply tell her he would be taking her to the ball.
But these foolish boys…tsk, tsk.
He made a small mental list in his head of the girls he would consider, but the list came up quite….
Pitiful.
Damn it. Damn it damn it damn it damn it. Time was running out, and there could be NOTHING more reputation-tarnishing than going to the Yule Ball dateless.
Running a hasty hand through his locks of blonde hair (one of his greater physical attributes), he bit his lip in thought, and rounded the nearest corner sharply, Thing and the Other Thing grunting from behind him.
Which was probably why he didn't even bother noticing the something, or rather, someone, that he bumped into.
" OW!!!!" There was a loud oofing sound, in which he noted that the voice was most definitely female. This sparked his interest.
But that was before he realized who it was.
" Gawd, Weasley--you've nearly wrinkled my robes!" He glared at her with contempt. She just straightened up, patting her stupid, hand-me-down robes, before pursing her lips at him as if to say, " You are sooooo pathetic."
Which he was not. He was quite confident in thinking that he was far too great to be even compared to a Weasley—no, no, to even THINK of comparing himself to a Weasley. To even THINK of thinking of comparing himself to a Weasley--
" You're such an ass, Malfoy." She sniffed, turning her head away. He sneered at her. After all, he was bored, and Weasley-torturing was one of his favorite past times.
" An undoubtedly handsome ass." He corrected her, grinning impishly. She squinted at him, as if to evaluate what he had just said.
" No," She concluded decisively. " You're not handsome at all. Just a plain old, lower than dirt ass."
And then, with a final flip of her flaming tresses, she stalked away rather haughtily.
And Draco was left to contemplate very carefully the events that had taken place.
The littlest Weasley had:
1) Called him an ass
2) Called him a plain old, lower than dirt ass at that
3) Bumped into him and wrinkled his robes
4) Did not apologize
5) And had committed various other crimes, such as breathing the same air as he, not bowing down to his presence, acting infuriatingly haughty….
His face contorted in anger. Why, the littlest Weasley was going to pay for that.
Indeed, she was. Mentally, he reminded himself to make the Little Weasley's life absolutely miserable, along with the usual bout of misery he caused for their family.
A hand flew up to his temples, as he massaged them—so many things he needed to do—he couldn't even remember all the things he needed to accomplish, anymore…
It was not easy being Draco Malfoy.
Turning to Bulk and Second Bulk, he said breezily,
" You know, sometimes I wish I were you, Crabbe. Or Goyle." He stared at them condescendingly, enjoying the confused looks they exchanged.
" The point being, it's such a tire to be a Malfoy all the time, you know—being so perfect and…"
But Draco frowned. Something was odd. The space where Crabbe was, that is to say Crabbe himself—seemed to be shimmering.
His hands, robes and well—everything, just kind of, um, shimmered, as if he were becoming transparent…
What on EARTH?
And then, Draco's frown deepened even further.
For where Crabbe had been standing, there was an exact replica of him, down to the last bit of silvery hair, meandering above his eye just so.
Hmm.
That was odd. Where had Crabbe suddenly gone to, then? And why was there a mirror in his place?
And why did he feel so, er, heavy all of a sudden?
" What's going on here?" He demanded, reaching out towards his reflection—
And poking Draco The Second in the chest. Solid.
Oh, yes, it was very real.
Draco's eyes bugged out—and perhaps even more so, when he realized his fingers…
His beautiful, thin, long, lithe fingers! Replaced with pudgy fat ones, with, with—DIRT in the nails!
" What the hell—" But he stopped once more, gaping at the air.
His voice….
His beautiful, melodious, voice, for heaven's sake! It was GONE! Poof!
And it left him with a deep croak of a voice, one that sounded much like Crabbe's.
Well.
This was certainly an interesting turn of events. Mulling over these thoughts in his head, he came to the conclusion that, it appeared that he had taken Crabbe's form.
Which was absolutely ridiculous.
Letting out a yelp, he forgot about everything he was doing, and ran towards the nearest boy's room.
Leaving Draco The Second and Goyle to look utterly dumbfounded.
" Uh."
" Uhh…"
`````````````
Draco had found the bathroom.
And he had found the mirror.
And he had also found the truth.
" Crabbe! Me!!"
`````````````````````
Oh, indeed it was a peculiar sight.
There stood Draco and what looked like Goyle (although, there was always a chance that it was Crabbe), looking bewildered beyond ever hoping to comprehend what was going on.
" What're you two standing here for?" Blaise inquired suspiciously, for it was a rarity to find such an elegant man like Draco to be gaping like that. Like…like a fish.
" And where's Crabbe?" He asked incredulously, for it wasn't a pleasant thought, thinking of Crabbe running amok the castle without any supervision.
" Uh." Draco mumbled stupidly. " I'm right here." Blaise looked thoroughly annoyed.
" Yes, I know you're here, Draco—but where's Crabbe?"
At this point, neither bothered answering. Something very, very, odd was going on here. Almost as if the both of them (well, not Goyle) had lost their brains.
" So, tell me what you are doing here, staring at the empty air like a couple of idiots?" He asked again, annoyance definitely ringing in his voice now.
There was an elongated silence, in which the both of them seemed to be pondering the question deeply.
" Ummm…"
" Have you seen Draco?"
Blaise's eyes widened, and his eyes flashed. Oh, those two. Whatever it was, it must be a joke, he thought.
A silly, immature little joke to get me all riled up—although, I didn't expect Draco to sink this low…
He felt absolutely miffed.
" Get out my sight, you two!" He barked, shoving the both of them aside.
For all he cared, they could stare off into the empty air for all of eternity.
``````````````````````
He closed his eyes.
Because when you don't want to believe something, you close your eyes.
Because when everything is a dream, you close your eyes, and when you open them, it's not there anymore.
Because it was a dream.
Therefore, when he opened his eyes, he would be back to being Draco.
He opened his eyes. And saw Crabbe staring back at him stupidly.
No! Eyes closed, brows furrowed in determination.
Open.
No!!!
Eyes closed. Take deep breaths…pray to who ever is up there…
Please, please, I'll never tease Potty, Weasel and Mudblood again, only if I get to be Draco…
PLEASE!
Open.
" NOOOOOO!!!!!!!"
Once again, his wails of horror filled the bathroom, as he clutched the sink, tears threatening to escape from his piggy eyes.
He couldn't be Crabbe…not ugly, stupid Crabbe…
It just couldn't be.
His lips began to purse, and he began breathing heavily, the anger slowly setting in.
I mean, there had to be some law that stated that it was not allowed for a beautiful Blonde Haired Adonis to turn into an ugly toad.
I mean, really.
Who ever heard of something as ludicrous as that.
But try as he might, and blink as he might, the image in the mirror was as clear as ever, as was the message in Crabbe/Draco's head.
He was Vincent Crabbe.
Vincent Crabbe he was.
Was he Vincent Crabbe?
A boy burst in the door.
Draco, snapped away momentarily from his newfound misery, and braced himself, hoping the boy wouldn't notice anything funny.
Funny, such as Vincent Crabbe looking absolutely horrified in the boy's bathroom.
However, the boy was too busy with his own bucket of tears—his face was covered by his hands, and he quickly scurried into a stall, where he continued to sob and wail.
He frowned, briefly wondering what was wrong with him. Not—not that he cared, or anything.
" Dennis?" And then, another intruder.
It was a soft, female voice. Draco's eyes grew wide, and he looked around in a hurry.
This was NOT supposed to happen!
I mean, there had to be some sort of rule where girls were NOT allowed in boy's bathrooms.
I mean, really.
But the silly girl seemed ignorant to these rules.
And, and, the door creaked open as
As Ginny Weasley poked her head in, innocent brown eyes turning wide.
And Draco decided that
That being an optimist
Was a useless thing to do.
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Author Notes: Please, for the love of god, leave a review so I don't despair too much.
Next chapter: Ginny comes into the scene, as Draco struggles to keep his real identity a secret, all the while trying to return to his normal, Blonde Adonis state.
He might even learn a few well kept secrets about Crabbe along the way.
Poor guy.