"Short Skirt / Long Jacket"
Draco sighed. Summer vacation was just beginning, the endless rounds of social calls about to start, and the unspeakable agony of being thrust to a new rich bitch through each and every one of those dinners was looming over his head, and the event that would come after it. He knew who he wanted, wanted to be with, and at the same time, exactly who he couldn't have. Which, as it happened often in fairy tales and occasionally in real life, tended to be the same person.
"I want a girl with a mind like a diamond I want a girl who knows what's best"
He wanted someone who had a brain to top off her pretty face, not simply another floozy, good only for pampering and ass- kissing. Someone he could talk to, debate with, and merely be with. He loosened his tie as he flopped down on his four poster, and looked at the tie, considering it. His woman - and she did have to be a woman - needed to be able to appreciate the finer things in life. So she evidently needed to be pureblood, or at least, half and half. Not a mudblood, in any sense of the word.
"I want a girl with shoes that cut
And eyes that burn like cigarettes"
Thinking of cigarettes, that was exactly what he needed. The first of the parties began tonight, at the Crabbe villa, and Pansy was going to be there, which constituted a cigarette (or two) and perhaps even a quick joint. And a round with the dartboard and a picture of Pansy's face. He grinned at the thought. Where pictures able to tell the subject what they were being used for? He sincerely hoped not.
"I want a girl with the right allocations
Who's fast and thorough
And sharp as a tack"
To have the body and brains worthy of the Malfoy name, now that would be a specimen to be prized! Of course, she wouldn't like to be thought of that way. But God above, what a woman! He rolled over as he heard his mother marching outside his bedroom door, and hurried to appear busy as she entered without knocking. He went through the regular drill, 'How was his year? Did Slytherin win the cup? Why on earth not? Where there any special girls he had his eye on? Had he talked to his father yet? Was he ready for the Crabbe's dinner party?' Just a brief conversation with her made him feel all of three years old, not that you would tell by his face. Mafloys didn't show emotion, ever. Finally she left, and Draco could relax again.
"She's playing with her jewelry
She's putting up her hair"
Well, maybe not. The words reminded him of his mother, definitely not a plus. His mother was the ass- kiss type, although she hid it behind a façade of intelligence and too much perfume. Reflecting on it, he really could see where Potter came up with 'Does your mother always look like she has dung under her nose?' His girl wouldn't wear too much of anything, and still be the envy of every woman. That wasn't to say that he wouldn't like to give her every jewel in the world, not that she wasn't deserving of it, only that there were gifts she would appreciate more.
"She's touring the facility
And picking up slack"
Sort of a James Bond girl meets Martha Stewart, the Miss Efficiency type. She would get everything done but not be a housewife, accomplish so much more than was possible for a mortal, and yet have that down to earth quality. Draco rolled off the bed with a dull thunk, and lay on the carpeted ground, staring up at the ceiling. 'She would help m up when I fall,' he thought resentfully.
"I want a girl with a short skirt and a long jacket......"
"I want a girl who gets up early I want a girl who stays up late"
Might she be a dark agent then? On Voldemort's side? Or on the so called Light side of the invisible war? He himself wasn't so confident of which side he wanted to be on, would his fantasy woman? Of course she would, and that would be the side Draco would switch to. But which one, was the thing to ponder, because if she was in the wrong army, she couldn't be his perfect woman. So what side. ?
"I want a girl with uninterrupted prosperity"
Well, that was a given. Supposing he married her -not saying that was going to happen!- but just supposing, just tossing ideas around, it was important that she be at least moderately self supporting. If she wasn't on Voldemorts side, he would have to get around his father to marry her, would lose all his inheritance, his family, his whole life. NOT THAT HE WOULD MARRY HER! Bugger. He wanted to. He thought. Or did he??? Bwahahahahhahahahhahaha moo.
"Who uses a machete to cut through red tape
With fingernails that shine like justice
And a voice that is dark like tinted glass"
It really was imperative that her get up before one of the servants came through the wall and saw the young Malfoy rolling about on the floor like some crazed madman. Who knew what they'd tell his father? Draco winced at the thought, and pulled himself (and half the down duvet with himself) into a sitting position, where he thought for a second, in order to reorient himself with his bedroom and gravity. Which brought him to another thought - his love wouldn't bother with silly things like gravity, he thought in some fashion? I dunNO. She could probably fly! He shook his head - he was a wizard, he could fly too! Ha! Then he coughed. Was this woman really worth it if he was going to go crazy just thinking about her? Damn his imagination though!
"She is fast and thorough
And sharp as a tack"
At this point, Draco's hormones spoke up forcefully. They made it clear that they deserved some say in her, and they wanted said representation now. At first Draco was ashamed of this new turn of his minds wanderings, but this quickly turned to a feeling of pity. He was 17 years old in a month, he deserved some happiness! And despite what Crabbe and Goyle made his reputation out to be, he wasn't getting any. None. Zip. Zilch. He smiled anyway; if his father knew about this, he'd be disappointed that Draco wasn't following the family tradition, but Draco's father didn't know, and Draco had no intention of him finding out. Even for such a little thing, Lucius not knowing was something to be proud of.
"She's touring the facility
And picking up slack"
Ah, back to the Bond girl meets Miss. Efficiency then, were we? That was fine with him, nice thought there, even if there wasn't much to go on. He almost drooled, thinking about how she would be in bed, and he caught himself only at the last moment. Bad thought process! Enough was enough, and she wouldn't respect him if he was like all other 17- year- olds. He could make her obey him easily enough, but there wasn't any pleasure in imperious. He wanted her to like -love- him for himself, and not because he told her to.
"I want a girl with a short skirt and a long.... long jacket"
"I want a girl with a smooth liquidation
I want a girl with good dividends"
Hmm. Draco didn't really know what those meant, but he was sure that she would have it, or be able to, or whatever. He growled. "Losing thought process, and I really must get up soon. It wouldn't be good form to be sitting when father comes for me." He moaned and hung his head as he got up and walked over to his closet. Selecting his most presentable summer clothes, he laid them on the bed and glared for a long moment before he knuckled under and began to dress.
"And at the city bank we will meet accidentally
We'll start to talk when she borrows my quill"
His girl would handle those goblins like they were bat brains; they really stood no chance. He laughed quietly. "Poor bastards." He wished he could handle Lucius that way. What if he didn't want to become a bloody Death Eater? Did that matter to Lucius, even at all? What was his son for then? The last Malfoy, and he was created to serve. There was no love in the Malfoy family, only the 'handling'. Not in the nice sense either, there simply was no love. Coldness. Darkness. Hatred. Detestation. Revulsion. Disgust. Fear. Not love though. Not love.
She wants a broom with a cup holder arm rest
She wants a broom that will get her there
Draco flicked an invisible spot off his over robes, and thought about that last line. Quality, not quanitity, he'd heard somewhere. That was, of course, rubbish, but she might like it. He made a mental note to find some way to introduce the concept to her. Subtly, of course, but it might make for a fascinating debate, after a Prefects meeting. If he could work in a few insults to Potty and the Weasel, all the better, that she didn't suspect anything. He fastened the last clip and checked his watch. "Half past, I'd best get going."
She's changing her name from Kitty to Karen
She's trading her Cleansweep for a tan Nimbus 2001
In front of his antique mirror, he smoothed his hair back, imagining it was her fingers running though it, not his. A quick spell was all it took, and it was its usual sleek form, and he looked very much the part of the Draco Malfoy that the word knew. She wouldn't use potions or spells to keep herself looking perfect. She would be true to herself, her faith and country, him. Mostly herself though. She had a brain, and he enjoyed that, respected it even, in women, particularly his women.
I want a girl with a short skirt and a long jacket
One last check as there was a knock at the door, and his father entered. Draco was surprised, it was unusual for Lucius to use any manners that were common, including knocking. Draco blushed inwardly, he had been caught in some very. humiliating.. situations. "I'm ready father." He nodded and followed the elder Malfoy out of the room and down the hall, on his way to becoming the newest Death Eater.
Nananananannananaaaaaaaa
'Oh Hermione," he thought. And with a flick of his wand, he turned off the radio.
AN - I know it's a super weak ending, and I seriously recommend somehow hearing the song before you read this, or while, or even after (so basically, just listen to the song!) cos it's a fun song. Anyway, while I do detest a sappy Draco, I was *very* bored, and *very* stuck on all my other fics. C'est le vie!
Draco sighed. Summer vacation was just beginning, the endless rounds of social calls about to start, and the unspeakable agony of being thrust to a new rich bitch through each and every one of those dinners was looming over his head, and the event that would come after it. He knew who he wanted, wanted to be with, and at the same time, exactly who he couldn't have. Which, as it happened often in fairy tales and occasionally in real life, tended to be the same person.
"I want a girl with a mind like a diamond I want a girl who knows what's best"
He wanted someone who had a brain to top off her pretty face, not simply another floozy, good only for pampering and ass- kissing. Someone he could talk to, debate with, and merely be with. He loosened his tie as he flopped down on his four poster, and looked at the tie, considering it. His woman - and she did have to be a woman - needed to be able to appreciate the finer things in life. So she evidently needed to be pureblood, or at least, half and half. Not a mudblood, in any sense of the word.
"I want a girl with shoes that cut
And eyes that burn like cigarettes"
Thinking of cigarettes, that was exactly what he needed. The first of the parties began tonight, at the Crabbe villa, and Pansy was going to be there, which constituted a cigarette (or two) and perhaps even a quick joint. And a round with the dartboard and a picture of Pansy's face. He grinned at the thought. Where pictures able to tell the subject what they were being used for? He sincerely hoped not.
"I want a girl with the right allocations
Who's fast and thorough
And sharp as a tack"
To have the body and brains worthy of the Malfoy name, now that would be a specimen to be prized! Of course, she wouldn't like to be thought of that way. But God above, what a woman! He rolled over as he heard his mother marching outside his bedroom door, and hurried to appear busy as she entered without knocking. He went through the regular drill, 'How was his year? Did Slytherin win the cup? Why on earth not? Where there any special girls he had his eye on? Had he talked to his father yet? Was he ready for the Crabbe's dinner party?' Just a brief conversation with her made him feel all of three years old, not that you would tell by his face. Mafloys didn't show emotion, ever. Finally she left, and Draco could relax again.
"She's playing with her jewelry
She's putting up her hair"
Well, maybe not. The words reminded him of his mother, definitely not a plus. His mother was the ass- kiss type, although she hid it behind a façade of intelligence and too much perfume. Reflecting on it, he really could see where Potter came up with 'Does your mother always look like she has dung under her nose?' His girl wouldn't wear too much of anything, and still be the envy of every woman. That wasn't to say that he wouldn't like to give her every jewel in the world, not that she wasn't deserving of it, only that there were gifts she would appreciate more.
"She's touring the facility
And picking up slack"
Sort of a James Bond girl meets Martha Stewart, the Miss Efficiency type. She would get everything done but not be a housewife, accomplish so much more than was possible for a mortal, and yet have that down to earth quality. Draco rolled off the bed with a dull thunk, and lay on the carpeted ground, staring up at the ceiling. 'She would help m up when I fall,' he thought resentfully.
"I want a girl with a short skirt and a long jacket......"
"I want a girl who gets up early I want a girl who stays up late"
Might she be a dark agent then? On Voldemort's side? Or on the so called Light side of the invisible war? He himself wasn't so confident of which side he wanted to be on, would his fantasy woman? Of course she would, and that would be the side Draco would switch to. But which one, was the thing to ponder, because if she was in the wrong army, she couldn't be his perfect woman. So what side. ?
"I want a girl with uninterrupted prosperity"
Well, that was a given. Supposing he married her -not saying that was going to happen!- but just supposing, just tossing ideas around, it was important that she be at least moderately self supporting. If she wasn't on Voldemorts side, he would have to get around his father to marry her, would lose all his inheritance, his family, his whole life. NOT THAT HE WOULD MARRY HER! Bugger. He wanted to. He thought. Or did he??? Bwahahahahhahahahhahaha moo.
"Who uses a machete to cut through red tape
With fingernails that shine like justice
And a voice that is dark like tinted glass"
It really was imperative that her get up before one of the servants came through the wall and saw the young Malfoy rolling about on the floor like some crazed madman. Who knew what they'd tell his father? Draco winced at the thought, and pulled himself (and half the down duvet with himself) into a sitting position, where he thought for a second, in order to reorient himself with his bedroom and gravity. Which brought him to another thought - his love wouldn't bother with silly things like gravity, he thought in some fashion? I dunNO. She could probably fly! He shook his head - he was a wizard, he could fly too! Ha! Then he coughed. Was this woman really worth it if he was going to go crazy just thinking about her? Damn his imagination though!
"She is fast and thorough
And sharp as a tack"
At this point, Draco's hormones spoke up forcefully. They made it clear that they deserved some say in her, and they wanted said representation now. At first Draco was ashamed of this new turn of his minds wanderings, but this quickly turned to a feeling of pity. He was 17 years old in a month, he deserved some happiness! And despite what Crabbe and Goyle made his reputation out to be, he wasn't getting any. None. Zip. Zilch. He smiled anyway; if his father knew about this, he'd be disappointed that Draco wasn't following the family tradition, but Draco's father didn't know, and Draco had no intention of him finding out. Even for such a little thing, Lucius not knowing was something to be proud of.
"She's touring the facility
And picking up slack"
Ah, back to the Bond girl meets Miss. Efficiency then, were we? That was fine with him, nice thought there, even if there wasn't much to go on. He almost drooled, thinking about how she would be in bed, and he caught himself only at the last moment. Bad thought process! Enough was enough, and she wouldn't respect him if he was like all other 17- year- olds. He could make her obey him easily enough, but there wasn't any pleasure in imperious. He wanted her to like -love- him for himself, and not because he told her to.
"I want a girl with a short skirt and a long.... long jacket"
"I want a girl with a smooth liquidation
I want a girl with good dividends"
Hmm. Draco didn't really know what those meant, but he was sure that she would have it, or be able to, or whatever. He growled. "Losing thought process, and I really must get up soon. It wouldn't be good form to be sitting when father comes for me." He moaned and hung his head as he got up and walked over to his closet. Selecting his most presentable summer clothes, he laid them on the bed and glared for a long moment before he knuckled under and began to dress.
"And at the city bank we will meet accidentally
We'll start to talk when she borrows my quill"
His girl would handle those goblins like they were bat brains; they really stood no chance. He laughed quietly. "Poor bastards." He wished he could handle Lucius that way. What if he didn't want to become a bloody Death Eater? Did that matter to Lucius, even at all? What was his son for then? The last Malfoy, and he was created to serve. There was no love in the Malfoy family, only the 'handling'. Not in the nice sense either, there simply was no love. Coldness. Darkness. Hatred. Detestation. Revulsion. Disgust. Fear. Not love though. Not love.
She wants a broom with a cup holder arm rest
She wants a broom that will get her there
Draco flicked an invisible spot off his over robes, and thought about that last line. Quality, not quanitity, he'd heard somewhere. That was, of course, rubbish, but she might like it. He made a mental note to find some way to introduce the concept to her. Subtly, of course, but it might make for a fascinating debate, after a Prefects meeting. If he could work in a few insults to Potty and the Weasel, all the better, that she didn't suspect anything. He fastened the last clip and checked his watch. "Half past, I'd best get going."
She's changing her name from Kitty to Karen
She's trading her Cleansweep for a tan Nimbus 2001
In front of his antique mirror, he smoothed his hair back, imagining it was her fingers running though it, not his. A quick spell was all it took, and it was its usual sleek form, and he looked very much the part of the Draco Malfoy that the word knew. She wouldn't use potions or spells to keep herself looking perfect. She would be true to herself, her faith and country, him. Mostly herself though. She had a brain, and he enjoyed that, respected it even, in women, particularly his women.
I want a girl with a short skirt and a long jacket
One last check as there was a knock at the door, and his father entered. Draco was surprised, it was unusual for Lucius to use any manners that were common, including knocking. Draco blushed inwardly, he had been caught in some very. humiliating.. situations. "I'm ready father." He nodded and followed the elder Malfoy out of the room and down the hall, on his way to becoming the newest Death Eater.
Nananananannananaaaaaaaa
'Oh Hermione," he thought. And with a flick of his wand, he turned off the radio.
AN - I know it's a super weak ending, and I seriously recommend somehow hearing the song before you read this, or while, or even after (so basically, just listen to the song!) cos it's a fun song. Anyway, while I do detest a sappy Draco, I was *very* bored, and *very* stuck on all my other fics. C'est le vie!
