Marcus Widder could be described as a young Draco Malfoy. Of course, if one decided to describe Marcus Widder that way, one might want to preface "Draco Malfoy" with (in addition to young); short, sweaty, plump, mousy brown, pimply, unrefined, and socially awkward. His trousers also had the most unappealing habit of slowly sliding down until half his bum was showing. In short, Marcus Widder was nothing like Draco Malfoy.
This, however, did nothing to stop Marcus buying every single Witch Weekly, SexMagic Monthly, or Vogue he came across in which the illustrious wizard graced the pages. He even had a formidable collection of Daily Prophet clippings, even though those pictures weren't usually as flattering. In fact, Marcus' obsession may very well have flourished because of his stark contrast in every way, shape, and form to the platinum blond, mid-to-late-twenties socialite, and not just in spite of it.
One day, while Marcus' father was out with his other sons, pretending he didn't have a pansy in the family, and Marcus' mother was wondering if she should teach Marcus that new spell she read about that mended small rips and tears in clothing, Marcus himself was reading with great relish an article in Pre-Teen Magic-Folk Sub-Biannually. The article, directly to the right of a full-page photo of a winking Draco, was telling Marcus, besides the obligatory things, such as Favorite Pizza Topping: None because pizza was too greasy for his complexion, and that he preferred meaningful relationships as opposed to one-night-stands, about a contest. The contest required that the applicants send in an essay, 500-1000 words, explaining Why Draco Should Pick You Out Of Countless Other Applicants To Take Out To Dinner!!
Marcus was ecstatic. Dinner with Draco Malfoy? It was too good to be true! He didn't spare a thought for the other contestants; he would write that essay. And he would win that contest. He was sure of it.
Dear Draco,
Hi. My name is Marcus. Ever since I was little I knew I was different from all the other boys. They would run about outside and ride on toy brooms and have pretend duels and play with bugs, but I would just want to stay inside and not get dirty. My brothers made fun of me and beat me up a lot. They still do, actually, but that's okay, because one day when I was eleven I saw your picture in my mother's Cooking With The Stars - The New Twice-Weekly Edition! and I knew then that everything I was feeling was alright. I knew I wasn't alone anymore. I knew that you, too, were like me, were --
"Ugh, what is this? I'm not gay!"
Draco, lounging serenely on a chaise, tossed both his silvery hair (away from his eyes) and the parchment (to the ground) and picked up the next entry off of the solid ivory side table.