Draco Ultrahot Malfoy was strutting along Hogwarts, flexing his huge muscles and rubbing his hot sexy chest. He was wearing a leather shirt, his long, sexy blonde hair was tied into a pony tail, and he had two nose-rings. He was the Slytherin Sex God, and he wanted everybody, especially his true love, a certain Gryffindork named Harry Potter, to know it.
"God, damn, you look like a retard," said Pansy Parkinson, her shrill voice pulling Draco out of his groove.
"Indeed he does, Miss Parkinson," said another voice, "but I am afraid I must still deduct 10 points from Slytherin for foul language."
"Dumbledork," said the Slytherin Prince, turning to the headmaster. "You old coot. You just hate Slytherin, because we're so much cooler than you."
Parkinson, who wasn't a moron, merely mumbled, "Sorry, Professor," and went on her way.
"Draco, I would like to speak to you in my office." Dumbledore said, turning to the boy.
"I'm not your pawn, old man! I'm loyal to Slytherin! I hate mudbloods, so go away." Draco stepped down from his soapbox, disappointed that nobody was clapping.
"Mr. Malfoy, I am your headmaster, and you are under my authority while here. Please come with me."
Malfoy really had no response to this. "But I have transfiguration!"
"Mr Malfoy, you have not attended class in a week. That is why I wish to speak with you. Now unless you would like to spend some quality time with the house-elves, please come with me."
