Malfoy's Day Out/ Pandemonium Strikes Back/ What Father Doesn't Know (Help me, here! See End.)

by Heaven's Flying Fish.

o:o:o

Summary: oneshot I love staircases! Was that your voice breaking? What the Hell? I think I'm in love. Contains: Luna Lovegood, Buckbeak, a two-way mirror, a cheap lemon ice lolly, Malfoy, and a Hufflepuff scarf. Pandemonium Strikes Back.

A/N: Hello, gentlemen! Ilona here again! Challenge by Claire (criteria at bottom of story). A little bit of Draco Malfoy centred madness. NO PAIRINGS, don't worry. Nicely G-rated, too. Excellent, excellent. So, uh… yeah.

o:o:o

"Father had better not hear about that," said Draco Malfoy, clambering gracefully into his common room. A blast of frigid air struck him as he entered and he glared at the imbecile who sat in front of the fire. "Bulstrode," Draco remarked, walking over. "Ah, I see you fixed our infestation problem."

"Yes, Draco, I did," replied the ugly girl, sneering in a way that simply exaggerated her ugliness. Draco peered over the edge of the black leather couch, staring down his nose at the body of a decapitated House-elf. "Ugh. It had better be cleaned up the next time I come down," he said before walking away. His eyes flicked to the west wall of the common room. It was lined with row upon row of House-elf heads. "We'll need to find more space, soon," he murmured, climbing the stairs to his dormitory.

Reaching the fifth-year dorm, Malfoy rapped out a special number of knocks on the door before counting to three and entering. The room was empty anyway, but in the Slytherin dorms, it's always advised to be cautious. Malfoy collected his DADA book and lazily hurried out of the dormitory.

"Bye, Draco," simpered Millicent, sitting in the pool of House-elf blood.

Draco lifted a hand in acknowledgement and wrinkled his nose at the repulsive girl. He staggered out into the corridor, smoothly slipping into the daylight filtering through the windows. Suddenly, Luna Lovegood appeared at the other end of the corridor, mumbling nonsense to herself, as usual.

"Malfoy," she greeted airily, twirling a strand of white-blond hair distractedly around her finger.

"Lo-ovegood," Draco squeaked, backing away slightly.

"Was that your voice breaking?" she asked wispily.

"No-o!" Draco exclaimed convincingly. He coughed. "No."

"Oh, don't worry, I won't tell anybody. No, I wouldn't tell anyone. You do know that if you tell of other people's embarrassment, then you get an infection of Garlywumps, don't you?" she fixed him with such an unexpected piercing glare that Draco's voice nearly faltered again.

"Of course I did." Draco looked at her, the weird Ravenclaw with the funny voice. "What are you doing down here, anyway?" he asked, suspicious. "Potter isn't hiding anywhere is he? Having a good laugh?"

"Paranoia is a sign of contact with Rawlings, you know. But Harry isn't with me, no. Neither are any other Potters, if you weren't, in fact, referring to Harry Potter, but I assume you were. Most people do. No one else is with me, actually." She gazed dreamily about the dungeon corridor, paying no mind to Draco as he stared at her, looking as incredulous as dignity allowed.

"What are you doing down here, Lovegood? And you'd do well to answer this time."

"I answered last time; it just wasn't the answer you wanted."

Draco rolled his eyes and took a few daring steps forward, as if to pass her by without getting any closer.

"I suppose you want to know what I'm doing, voluntarily in the Slytherin domain. Especially on a Monday morning when I should probably be at class?"

Draco looked at the ceiling in exasperation and crossed his arms. "I should also be in class, and you are detaining me, Lovegood. So it had better be with good reason." He looked at his gleaming Inquisitorial Squad badge and gave it a brief shine with his robe-sleeve. "But, I suppose it doesn't matter how late I am – I am a favourite of Umbridge. Which reminds me, five points from Ravenclaw, Lovegood, for loitering." He looked smugly at the dizzy-looking girl standing in front of him.

"But aren't you also loitering?" she pondered aloud, before turning in a slow circle with her arms spread. "The floor looks pretty when you do that. Pity about the colony of Driggleberns living in the flagstones. I was told to escort you to DADA."

Draco, attempting to slip by Luna as she twirled and murmured craziness at him, nearly missed her last sentence.

"Pardon?" Draco asked, turning to stare, wide-eyed at the strange Ravenclaw.

"Driggleberns – small dirt-dwelling insects which eat shoe-rubber and – "

"Not that, you incompetent fool," Draco bit out, gritting his teeth. "What was that about me and getting escorted to Defence?"

"No need to resort to insults," Luna said pleasantly. "I was asked to escort you to DADA by the professor. And here I am." She gazed calmly at Draco's form as it twitched and convulsed.

He opened his mouth to say something, but his rage had dried it and only a harsh whisper came out. He licked his lips and tried again, "How… how far is it to the Defence class?"

"Three floors," supplied Luna, turning and leading the way to the end of the corridor.

Draco whimpered and drew his wand. First he pointed it at himself, but quickly remembered that it was himself, Draco Malfoy, and he needed to be alive.

"I love staircases!" Luna exclaimed, stepping up onto the first step of one. Draco turned the wand on Luna, but sighed elegantly when he recalled that the professor had sent her down and would, he supposed, eventually go looking for her.

Draco followed her down the corridor and alighted the stairs, but at such a distance that it would seem that they weren't going to the same place – and that he certainly wasn't following her.

"So, why do I need an escort?" queried Draco, curious.

"There's a new professor and he thought that if you'd found out who he was, you'd need to be brought to class."

Draco, startled, but pleased at the immediate, straight answer, quickly asked a second question, "Who's the new professor?"

"What the Hell! Harry is such a git!" The shout came from three floors up. In the moment that passed, Luna figured that the question need not be answered and refused to answer.

Finally, they entered the third-floor corridor. Luna walked him to the door of the class room and stopped. "This is where I leave you." She dug in her pockets for a moment, and drew out a stringy green mess. She grabbed his hand and placed the goop into it. "Gillyweed," she said with a conspiratorial nod of the head. "just in case."

And then she walked off, leaving Malfoy in the corridor with a handful of Gillyweed, and no clue as to what was going on. Sighing in a regal fashion, Draco shook the expensive plant from his hand and cast a quick Scourify on the offending body part. "Ugh," he stated, before reaching for the doorhandle.

o:o:o

I reached to open the door, receiving a slight shock at the warm temperature of the doorhandle. I briefly thought about how considerate the new teacher must be, but that idea I quickly stamped out. Lupin had been considerate and warm, but he was a werewolf and Potter's friend. Insufferable.

I opened the door, and the first thing my observant eyes registered was that Weasley was looking crabby, and had decided to sit on the other side of the room to the other Golden Two. He seemed to be murmuring, "Why'd Hermione have to tell me; couldn't even let me know himself…" but, frankly, I don't care. The Weasleys were all weird and poor, and far below me. I need not waste anymore precious thought on him. Though his ears do turn a fascinating colour when he's annoyed…

"You're late, Malfoy," Potter said, interrupting my thoughts and looking smugly at me from the aisle between the desks.

"And so's the professor, by the looks of it. Must be real second rate – late to the first lesson. Not related to you is he, Weasley?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," came the witty retort, before he went back to mumbling and glaring.

"Looks like your pal's lost the plot, Potter. Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, as you'd know." I smirked; I had him there.

"Yes, Malfoy, you'd know, wouldn't you; no one listens to you." Potter was still standing. How infuriating. And what was with his smug little face?

"You're looking rather cheery, Potter. Kill anyone, recently?" A muscle in his cheek twitched. Yes! Score one for the Malf-meister. Then again, I'm up by about twenty points already.

"Sit down, Malfoy, and shut up, while you're at it," Potter said, moving infuriatingly slowly and calmly up to the front of the classroom. Who on earth did he think he was, ordering a Malfoy around?

"Who on earth do you think you are, Potter? Ordering a Malfoy–" Damned Potter interrupted.

"I am your professor, Malfoy, so, please take a seat, you have delayed this class long enough for one day, I think."

I stared at Potter. I stared at his ugly, messy-haired head, with his deformed, bespectacled face. His mocking little green eyes stared piggishly back from his atrociously underfed counternance, and my jaw dropped a tiny bit. "Pa-ardon, Potter? I don't think I heard that properly."

"Was that your voice breaking?" questioned that blasted Hermione Granger. "I read about that once, in Hogwarts: A History. Excellent read; well worth the time."

"Shut up, Granger," I snarked, still staring disgustedly at Potter. "Now, Potter, tell me again what you said."

"Ordering a professor around, tut, tut, Mr. Malfoy, that'll be a point from Slytherin."

I felt the blood drain from my face, and I was certain that my fellows would be able to see the delicate weave of muscle beneath my skin as I turned a more translucent shade of albino. I staggered over into a chair, next to Pansy, who was seated in the back row, and seething quietly about the unfairness we, as proud Slytherins, had to endure.

"Oh, no, Mr. Malfoy. We're in alphabetical order, just for now, and it just so happens that your letter 'M' seat is directly in front of the teacher's desk. I can keep quite the eye on you from here." He had a very malicious glint in his eye that only shone steadily brighter as his sentence progressed. Growling with dignity (naturally) I strode calmly to the front of the class and flung my self stylishly into the chair.

"Happy, now, Professor?" I spat, cramming as much discontent into that last word as Purebloodedly possible.

"Yes. Page twenty-three in your books please, and no more interruptions." He looked apologetically around the room. "It was a bit of a surprise, uh, getting offered this job, so, there's nothing exciting planned for a couple of lessons."

I snorted quietly, and felt Potter's eyes flick down to me. "Problem, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked.

"No, sir," I answered with contempt.

"Good." He turned to address the rest of the class. "Continue reading on from page twenty-three until the bell rings. Silently, if you will," he added, glancing over at an appreciative Hermione Granger.

Damned Mudblood.

I couldn't get out of that classroom fast enough when the blessed bell rang. I've never been so eager to get to Herbology. I still don't understand why Harry Potter was teaching us. I mean, he's hardly qualified. And he's still in fifth year. My year! Why isn't there a Slytherin teaching?

"Wait 'til father hears about this," I grumble as I reach the queue outside Greenhouse Three. After five minutes, the professor came stumbling out of Greenhouse Two. She's still the same professor.

I wonder what happened to Umbridge?

"Sorry I'm late, dears. Had a bit of an issue with a third year class. Horrible bunch of children those Ravenclaws–" she gasped, and closed a dirty hand over her mouth. "But, uh, yes. In we go, then," Sprout mumbled, blushing a little behind her wispy hair.

She set us our task (watering and feeding the Azaleas) and wandered back into Greenhouse Two.

As I waited for Gregory to return with the watering can, something caught my eye. Over in Greenhouse Two, something large, brown and feathered was wandering around. Professor Sprout seemed to be shouting at it and… The Thing retaliated by eating her hat. If I weren't a Malfoy, and adversely disapproving of all outward displays of positive emotion, I would have laughed out loud. As it was, I sniggered quietly and leaned closer to see what was going on. If only it weren't so blurry – stupid arty glass they use – I'd have a better view of – oh! There goes her scarf! That was her Hufflepuff one, too, she won't be happy.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted something extremely large coming closer. It wasn't too long before my eyes snapped into relative focus and my brain connected the image to a memory. It was that oaf of a game-keeper, Hagrid, with his stupid dog and a large, heavy chain. He passed the open door of Greenhouse Three, so it was easy to see that he looked positively gleeful. Must be dangerous then. My attention immediately returned to Professor Sprout.

No. Darn. Not been eaten yet.

Goyle finally staggered back into view with two full watering cans. He stood right in front of me.

"Move!" I snarled, slapping his thick, robed arm to get the message across quicker. With a startled grunt, Gregory lurched over to the bench where he dumped the two watering cans.

"What's going–"

"Shh!" I interrupted, flapping my arms imperiously at him. "Just water and shut up, alright?"

"'Kay," he mumbled, pouring the water into the Azaleas.

After five minutes of very limited viewing, Hagrid emerged from Greenhouse Two, towing something large, brown, feathery and –

Oh – My – Murdering – Aunt's – Mudbloods. It's that bird. Beckbike, or whatever. The one that maimed me in third-year. Hagrid's smuggled it back in! That slimy–

"Hagrid!" called Hermione Granger, always a teacher's pet. "How's Witherwings settling in?" she cried, ogling the creature through the open door.

'Witherwings'?

"Quite fine, 'Ermione, jus' keeps gettin' into poor Professor Sprout's veg'table garden."

"Blasted bird pulled all the new seedlings out!" Professor Sprout shrieked. 'Witherwings' snapped ferociously at the Hufflepuff Head of House and turned snootily away. Hagrid laughed.

"Now, now, Pomona, you don' want to go insultin' a Hippogriff: mightily proud beasts, they are, as young Malfoy there discovered the firs' year we had 'em."

The stupid half-breed continued to chuckle as he lead the animal away. "And it ate my scarf!" Sprout shrieked at his retreating back. Looking distinctly more frazzled than ever, she looked at us and ordered us back to work.

Walking up to the castle, I passed Dumbledore who looked to be leaving. "Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy," he greeted.

Old fool. "Hello, professor," I answered politely.

"A lovely day for a stroll," he continued, and he slowed, settling himself in for a lengthy chat. Had dignity allowed it, I would have groaned, but, it didn't, so I restrained myself.

"Yes, sir," I offered, hitching my bag on to my shoulder. Where were Crabbe and Goyle to carry something when you need it?

"I have a craving for sherbet lemons," the old man continued. "Marvellous little Muggle sweets," he explained at my surely baffled look. Muggle food, of course.

"Alas, I had to make do with a cheap lemon ice lolly from the kitchens. Also quite delectable if that is what you desire, and rather calming in all actuality, but just not what I felt like having today…" Dumbledore trailed off, and stared sullenly into the distance, before turning back to me with a distinctive twinkle in his irritatingly blue eyes. "I shall leave you to your next class, Mr. Malfoy," he said.

"Thank you, professor," I said and, remembering my well-bred manners, I added, "Have a lovely stroll, sir."

"I shall, Mr. Malfoy; I shall. Good day," and with those parting words, he left.

Thank Merlin.

What a boring old coot.

o:o:o

As I entered the seventh corridor, on an after dinner walk, I saw Professor Harry Potter exiting a door opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. He was muttering to himself and looking into something. So immersed was he, he didn't notice me as he walked past. (Well, thundered past with all the cultured grace of a pregnant hippopotamus, more like.)

He was talking into a mirror.

What – a – pansy. Honestly. How much more self-absorbed can a person get? I ask you – and he is teaching the next generation! He is schooling our future! I would continue, but something he said sparked my incessant curiosity: my name.

I distinctly heard Potter mention 'Draco Malfoy!' in that same incredulous tone of voice I certainly think it. Luckily for me, he stopped to rant into his mirror about five paces from where I stood.

"I know!" he shrieked. "She was the only student in the corridor at the time, and I just asked her to do that favour for me – you know, get him from downstairs – and she was all, 'I think I'm in love. With Draco Malfoy.'" I gagged and paled, waiting to see whether he would reveal who this mystery girl was.

"I know!" he cried staring into his mirror with wild eyes. "Luna" (here he swore – a vile habit which only commoners fall victim to) "Lovegood! In love with 'Sir Sneer-a-lot' Malfoy!"

I could have fainted, then and there.

Luna.

Loopy Loony Luna Lovegood.

o:o:o

"Yes, a cheap lemon ice lolly!" I shouted at one of the House-elves in the Kitchens. "Just like Dumbledore had!"

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, sir," said our old House-elf, Dobby, who was looking rather petrified from the angle I was at.

Good. Serves him right.

I sat down with my cheap lemon ice lolly and pondered my predicament.

With a feminine sigh, I looked at my reflection in the slippery surface of my cheap lemon ice lolly.

Father had better not hear about this.

o:o:o

Fin!

o:o:o

Challenge Criteria:

Must contain these characters:
Harry
Luna
Draco
Buckbeak

Must contain these lines:
"What the Hell! Harry is such a git!"
"I think I'm in love. With Draco Malfoy."
"I love staircases!"
"Was that your voice breaking?"

Must contain these objects (and they have to be used in the story):
Gillyweed
A Hufflepuff scarf
A cheap lemon ice lolly
The two-way mirror

Must be:
From Malfoy's POV
3000 words (mine – the actual STORY part - is only 2950 by the word counter on Microsoft Word)
Checked by yourself or the spell checker

IF YOU ARE GOING TO DO THIS CHALLENGE, YOU MUST POST A LINK IN THE 'CHALLENGES' TOPIC ON HARRY POTTER'S SECRET FORUM.

Or, at least credit where you got it from and DIRECT people towards to forum.

It's the top forum in the posts count, so it won't be hard to find.

Reviews make pregnant hippopotamuses thunder with grace.

Review, mes amis!

Suggestions for title make-overs welcome! Vote (or make up your own);

Pandemonium Strikes Back
What Father Doesn't Know
Malfoy's Day Out