Draco Malfoy Discovers
"So do we tell Draco?" grunted Crabbe, still gaping in wonder at the lists of stories that were listed. Strangely enough, their mutual friends appeared at least twice on each page, always featuring in some epic love story involving, of all people, either the Weasley girl or that Granger bucktooth.
Goyle nodded ten more times than was necessary, because apparently it took Crabbe ten more nods than was necessary to comprehend the positive reply. "Duh," he said, wishing to express Crabbe's stupidity but ending up artfully showing his own nature. "Let's do it."
To his surprise five seconds later (it always took them that long to understand new ideas), Crabbe's face twisted into one of utter horror. "Don't say things like that!" he hissed, grabbing his best friend as he choked, by the collar. "Those-those ruddy fanfiction writers will make anything out of even something in-sent like that."
"Yeah," grumbled Goyle, grudging getting up to his feet. "Leave the computer thing on while I go get Draco." And he left, returning several short minutes later (for the purpose of this story, because the author, in this circumstance, does not wish to go through the trouble of describing a tedious journey that took forever) with no other than Draco Malfoy himself, who swaggered in enjoyably, his light gray gaze flickering up in alarm to the Muggle contraption with the silvery screen.
"What've you got there?" he asked, stopping in his tracks. Draco bent down to examine the sides of the thing. "Is this…is this some Muggle filth?" he sneered, rapping it smartly on the screen. "They aren't supposed to work within Hogwarts either, my father said-"
"They will now work for the purpose of this fanfiction story," boomed Goyle in a surprisingly full and deep voice. "Because there is no better environment for us all to pore over this nonsense otherwise. By the way, the author sends a disclaimer to her probably meager audience since most people take offense to this kind of thing that she owns nothing of Harry Potter, and J.K. Rowling does. Just as well, she does not claim to own any stories or authors mentioned in this work. In fact, they should be totally flattered that she would care enough about them to include them at all, thank you very much. And if they react negatively, it is simply theirs, not mine. In fact, I harbor a deep and passionate love for many and most of the fanfic works I will allude to in this. Of course, there is the ever slight possibility that I don't and am simply lying to gain credibility, but what would you know about that anyway? (inserts hearty chuckle) This is only for comical purposes, and she also includes the altered fact that electronics will successfully operate within Hogwarts boundaries and that Crabbe and Goyle will have managed to get hold of a laptop computer (a Mac, in case you care) without consequence, just for this purpose."
Crabbe and Draco stared, only too skeptical.
"WTF," uttered Crabbe monotonously.
"Confundus," Goyle said with whiplash speed, whipped out his wand and performed extraordinarily difficult spellwork on his friends, making them jerk back in dreaminess and surprise. "You will believe all that."
And so they were brainwashed, and the story could begin.
"So, Draco," crowed Crabbe, rubbing his heavy hands together. "Look what we've found on the Int-nit!" He gestured zealously towards the screen, squinting at a small blue link that read 'Love me, Hate Me' by a certain 'Vampander'.
"What?" Draco Malfoy strolled closer to the computer screen and snatched the laptop away from his crony. "I'm in-in love with the-with the…Mudblood?!" He whipped one hand up to his face in terror. "Who wrote this?"
Crabbe and Goyle simply sat dumbfounded to ensure Draco's continued reaction because imagine if I'd made them react, then they would all probably have to have some kind of idle conversation about beans or whatnot and lead us all away from the reactions of Draco! Which, well, obviously is what we strive for more of.
He dragged the laptop back onto the desk, light gray eyes narrowing in suspicion as he began to survey the dormitory room. "Who did that?" he snarled, checking the door for possible intruders. "Was it Potter? Weasley?"
Draco breathed hard, all the while attempting to compose himself. "No, and it couldn't have been Weasley…he's in love with that Mudblood, anyone can see that…Potter? I don't think he's half as clever as that to come up with a ruse like that…"
He stopped. "Search her! The author!" he snapped, when his bodyguards looked stunned.
A minute later, Goyle looked up sorrowfully. Notice how I alter the characters of Crabbe and Goyle as needed. Obviously it would grow quite bland if either Crabbe or Goyle acted as Draco's only correspondent. "Just…normal stuff," he said apologetically, shrugging a little dumbishly.
Just then, and coincidentally because the author willed it, the door flew open. I say flew because that marks a dramatic entrance, not a lame one. Anyway…
Theodore Nott stood in the doorway, looking both clever and unimpressed at the same time. He raised an eyebrow dryly to acknowledge them before Crabbe whipped out his wand with ferocity and roared, "Imperio!"
The jet of red light missed Nott by two feet (because, well, he ducked two feet, see, and it landed where his head had been…) and he stood rooted to the spot with his jaw open, and wand clenched tightly. "What are you playing at, Crabbe?" he asked slowly, looking absolutely prepared to react but shocked all the same.
Crabbe shrugged just as Goyle drew out his wand (although, according to clear logic, he wouldn't have to do, because nowhere does the author mention him stowing his wand away after he confounded his friends…however, it does him merit to have more drama in taking it out to demonstrate his sheer and awesome speed) and shouted, "Imperio!"
It hit, and as if suddenly clarified on some hard topic, Nott stumbled forward and analyzed the screen, because we needed his supposed cleverness that J.K. Rowling talks about so many times in interviews to keep the plot going. "And look," he exclaimed, although we have never heard Nott exclaim, but since we really haven't heard him do anything much at all, who cares. "There's one entitled Too Close For Comfort by BeyondBelief01 about you forcing to share a ho-hoe- er, forgive me, hotel, with that Weaselette."
Draco, who had been silent all this time either as a result of shock or because the author wished to shift the spotlight to other events, suddenly sprang back into action, recoiled in disgust. "What?" he demanded, crossing his arms shakily. "You're kidding…" His voice shook with repulse. "Okay, so…so we-we…we do what?" He asked this in a tone that implied he would immediately commit suicide after hearing the answer.
Nott, clever as he was, sensed this attitude and straightened carefully. "Well, it's not that bad," he comforted in a tone that suggested he probably didn't care either. "You just…" He cautiously clicked on the link and his shoulder visibly sagged in relief. "No, you don't end up…you know…having sex, but you do exchange suggestive insults as either side attempts to stay immune to the attraction of the other."
Draco shuddered and gritted his teeth. "Any other ridiculous situations like this?" he threw out casually, wondering if Weasley should see him now…withering in his own misery…but that was lucky for him. Not as if Weasley would be paired with that intolerable Ginny Weasley. But of course those…those crazy fanfiction writers would surely stop at incest. That was a plus.
"Well, there are those in which you get raped and beaten by ah, your father," said Nott calmly while Crabbe and Goyle snickered.
Draco yelped in pure terror and clung to a bedpost, quaking in fear. "I'll be…writing to father about this…" he breathed heavily, backing into the furniture.
"Hey, get off my bed," said Nott suddenly, seeing Draco's approach into his own fluffy-clean bed. Theodore could be very particular about sanitary matters like this.
But he just screamed and stumbled backwards again. "No, no!" he screeched, shaking his white blonde head that fanfiction writers are so famous for lovingly describing (cough, I should know) and backing into Crabbe's bed. "Don't say that kind of stuff!"
Nott simply looked amused now that the threat that had impended his bed was removed. "Ah, let's see," he said wickedly with relish. "You've been paired up with that Granger girl too…"
Crabbe leaned forward and jabbed a hard finger. Oh my, forgive the possible reference perverted readers could make to something else long and…okay, but that's neither here nor there. Well, actually it's there, but that's not my point. "Here's one!" he stated triumphantly, glad to see Draco out of control for once. "The Heart of a Woman," he read slowly, sounding out each syllable.
"Yeah," grunted Goyle happily, secretly reading the story and self-inserting himself as Draco where necessary. "You're bound by magic to her."
Draco winced and moaned as if his arm had been truly broken all over again. "No, please," he gasped as if he were drinking the Horcrux cave potion. Handy simile, eh?
They pretended not to hear his loud and obvious heart wrenching pleas.
"Bewitched Bewildered Beloved…" mused Nott thoughtfully, the mouse arrow lingering on the link. "I don't know about this one…by now I seem to prefer the fanfics where Malfoy and Granger have been forced into something rather than using their own choices…hmm…those are so much simpler to resolve into love. Oh look…in Chicken Pox, they're stuck in the same room together…"
"Mother," groaned Draco, his broken body sprawled (rather sexily, don't you imagine?) on the ground, his pale hands clutching at the green and silver bed drapes of Goyle's four-poster.
At this point, Goyle whispered something gruffly about character and genre filters, causing Nott to gasp in pleasure. Woah there…no need to quicken your breath, is there? Oh wait, you wouldn't have. Because Goyle isn't a very sexually provocative character now, is he? Anyway, Nott now brightened tremendously and seized the nearest chance to filter out…certain people.
"Hey, look, Malfoy," he crowed loudly, waving his arms in some kind of celebration jig. "You have an intense relationship with Narcissa? No wonder you have the same last name-"
But this was enough for Draco. He narrowed his light gray eyes and stood up, swaggering forward intimidating. "You shut up about my mother," he said coldly, knuckles white against his wand.
"Ah, well, fine," said Nott half-heartedly, trying to conceal the fact that there…well, weren't any Narcissa and Draco incest stories that he could see…yet, at least. He checked something different and could hardly believe his luck.
"What?" said Draco sharply, trying to get to the laptop. Sadly, he was restrained by guffawing a Crabbe and Goyle.
"Potter!" Nott bawled with delight, grasping the edges of the desk in order to stay somewhat in control. "Potter! Potter!"
"So Potter has his own fair share of nasty pairings, does he?" returned Draco smugly, sliding back into his composed, smooth manner.
"Yes!" gasped Nott, tears falling down his cheeks. "He does! With you!"
"Avada Kedavra!" howled Draco, aiming his wand at the laptop screen in a way reminiscent of Walburga Black blasting family members of the Black family tapestry.
But being the nonliving object it was, the laptop simply sat there, infuriatingly undamaged. It even blinked several times in defiance.
"Hey, that's illegal," Nott reprimanded huffily, glaring at his friend.
"On fellow human beings," said Draco scornfully, his slim fingers still trembling with sheer rage that begged to be let out. "So what rumors does it spread about me having secret trysts with Potter? We're forced into a gay marriage that has trouble being accepted by even the United States government, let alone the Ministry of Magic for Great Britain?"
Goyle sniffed. "Hey, what if I'm gay too, Draco? Don't talk so rudely."
Draco took an involuntary step back. He had always assumed that Crabbe and Goyle acted as bodyguards guarding his…well, body only because they were too stupid to do anything else but follow. It had never occurred to him that they could've been doing this all these years for…for-Draco shuddered to think of it- benefits. "No, no" he said earnestly, almost choking on his own emotions, "I wasn't…not being mean. Just realistic about public attitudes."
As Goyle shrugged, Nott suddenly sat up straighter in his chair. You should know well enough by now that he was not…yeah. "Hey, are you sure these aren't true, Malfoy?" he asked meaningfully. "Because this…I think the term is, slash, fiction, is pretty well written."
Draco didn't even dare to inquire as to what the name and content was. "Yeah, wonderful," he announced sarcastically, flipping his hands into the air. "So I have love interests in Potter, Granger, my mother, my father, and even the Weaselette, so I'm guessing Weasley himself would be no exception-"
"You're right!" said Crabbe in amazement. Draco simply ignored him and drawled on loudly.
"-because he would certainly be craving my attentions under even normal circumstances, so he'd be actually glad in the fanfiction or whatever that stuff is," he said in annoyance. "But my one complaint is that they discriminate. Why me? Why not you, or-or you, or-"
"An unexpected surprise?" suggested Nott, his eyes glued on the screen.
"You are, then?" Draco paused to ask curiously, looking incredulously satisfied.
"Uh, with you, and each other," admitted Crabbe, having the audacity and female-ness to blush. Hey, not that I'm targeting on that gender…males can blush too, obviously.
Draco cringed inconspicuously but drew back all the same. So there was…
"And I've been paired up with you on several occasions too," said Nott glumly, his fingers tracing the mouse absently. "And you've gotten Zabini too…but what I'm trying to say is that DreamzAndMyths wrote a thing about you and that Loony Lovegood-"
Draco flushed delicately. "Will you stop staring at that thing and drinking in its lies?" he ranted, eyeing the room.
"You know," Nott was musing now, stroking an imaginary/invisible beard. "You truly are a complex character in these fanfictions. Nott only are you hot, but you're also sexy. And handsome. And charming, as well as persuasive, and intelligent, and all…see, like, sometimes you can really angsty too-"
"Like Potter," Draco snickered.
"-but Crabbe and Goyle have no distinct personalities-"
"Yes we do," chanted Crabbe and Goyle at the exact same tims, beat for beat. Of course, while this has absolutely no possibility of occurring in actuality, the author inserts this as a private joke, secretly hoping that people will laugh at this, just like she thinks that people will review, although they never do…
"And quite frankly," delivered Nott, rising from the chair. "I envy you."
"Who doesn't?" replied Draco smoothly, but still shaken from the experience. All of a sudden, the laptop shrinks into a beetle and scampers away as fast as lightning.
"What?" complained Nott, glaring accusingly at Crabbe and Goyle, who shook their heads in-sent-ly.
Suddenly, Goyle once again whipped out his wand without any warning, declared, "Stupefy!" and knocked out Nott. As Draco reacted violently to this, reaching down to grab his friend's fallen wand so that he might have more protection, Crabbe sneaked up on him from behind and knocked him flat as well. The Muggle way.
Why? Well, you see, my dears, the writer, quite frankly, is hungry and wishes to conclude this segment. She currently plans to continue with this in more chapters, but of course if she receives no sign of this through reviews and such…then…well, I can't exactly threaten you with no continuation then, can I? Because then apparently, due to the extraordinary lack of reviews, you obviously don't care and it wouldn't suffice to have that used against you…If the next chapter gets put up, then…well, perhaps they will discover the startling amount of long-lost brothers, sisters, twins, and cousins Draco has that no one knew about. And who is this Scorpius Malfoy, who seems so certain to exist?
Oh gosh. I sound like a ranting soap opera announcer from the sixties (gags). Urgh. But fine, because I shall conclude shortly anyway. Like, now. So, yeah. Yup.
No, really. It's over.
Honestly.