The Secret Life of Draco Malfoy
A/N: Some time ago I decided I loved the idea of Draco being a spacy person a la Walter Mitty, so I wrote this little one-shot. It was over a year ago and I had posted it on , but after re-reading it, I've decided to tweak it a bit for added fun. I tried to keep our protagonist in character as much as the story would let me. "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty" by James Thurber has been one of my all-time favorite short stories, so it's a bit of homage to Mr. Thurber. I used his work as a basis for the daydreams and formatting. So please, enjoy!
Summary: Draco Malfoy is not the pillar of collectiveness that we all think he is. In fact, he has a bad habit of daydreaming at the most inopportune times. Unfortunately for him, Ginny keeps catching him getting too involved in his fantasies.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from Harry Potter. They belong to JK Rowling and her affiliates. I also do not own "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty". The plot line belongs to James Thurber. I'm just using it for my creative outlet. So, don't sue.
Draco Malfoy, elite auror for the United Kingdom Ministry of Magic, tensely crept through the corridors of the ministry, seeking the usurper. Failure was not an option for him. If the usurper escaped tonight, the entire magical world would be in peril. The person in question was known to have sensitive information on the security of the British magical world. The usurper was reported to have ties to the United States Ministry—the same ministry that was reported to be preparing a siege on his homeland, the bloody yanks. He could not stand by and allow this to happen. He heard a noise in an abandoned office and he knew it was the usurper. Holding his breath, he drew his wand (an Olivander's Special) and kicked in the door of the office. "Halt!" he yelled, pointing his wand at the person in question.
"Bloody hell Malfoy, are you trying to scare the magic out of me?" the person slurred. In the low light, Draco could make out a mass of curly red hair.
Oh, um…Weasley. What are you doing out past curfew?" he asked the Gryffindor prefect. He noticed she was holding a cup and was clutching onto a sink. He noticed she shifted nervously.
"None of your," she hiccupped, "bloody businessh," she slurred, taking a few teetering steps towards him. She was attempting to glare at him, but the effect was less than scary. Her left eye was squinting at him, making her look as if she was trying to wink.
"Are you drunk?" Draco tried to regain the upper hand. He was a little shaken up that she actually caught him daydreaming.
"Are you drunk?" she giggled, placing her cup on the nearest sink and taking out a pack of cigarettes. Contraband items. The prisoner has contraband he thought. She lit one up and offered him one. It seems the prisoner wanted to get on the guard's good side. Never one to decline a good bribe, he accepted the cigarette and used his wand to ignite his. The prisoner offered him her drink and he took a sip, finding that it was pure zombie rum. He grimaced at the strong taste and took another drink. "Smooth" he said, feeling the fire warming him from the inside out. She was resourceful, the prisoner. She was able to procure the most desired items of the war camp. She should prove to be a powerful ally…
"What is going on here?" came a voice from the doorway. Draco's head snapped towards the silhouette as it stomped into the lavatory.
"Professhure Mc-McGoog…MINNIE!" Weasley cried, drunkenly teetering over to the stern Head of Gryffindor House. She stumbled and hiccupped, giggling as she righted herself. Draco shook his head in disgust. Weasleys just couldn't hold their liquor.
"Smoking on campus is strictly verboten! Both of you, in my office immediately!" cried the deputy headmistress. Both teens shuffled out of the lavatory and towards the transfiguration professor's office.
Draco was thrown into the chair and a bright light shone in his eyes. He squinted at the intense brightness. "Vhere is the amulet?" Fraulein McGonagall demanded. He raised his chin and kept silent out of defiance. "You vill speak when I ask you qvestions! Ve have vays of making you talk!" the fraulein spat. "I will not acquiesce to your demands you horrible woman!" he spat back. She backhanded him, hard. His mouth filled with blood, which he spat on her clothes. "I'd rather die than speak to you, you dirty Fritz!" he cried.
"That won't be necessary, Mr. Malfoy," the deputy headmistress said, looking at him strangely over the top of her glasses as she sat behind her desk.
"Professhure, he wash acting like that earlier. I think he's off his box," Weasley whispered conspiratorially, tapping the side of her head to illustrate his nuttiness. He glared at her. She was too busy trying to act sober to notice. He couldn't believe he wasted a perfectly good glare on a drunken Weasley.
"Says the girl who's completely pissed!" he shot back. She stuck her tongue out at him and he sneered back.
"Enough! Miss Weasley, you realize you reek of booze? And don't snigger Mr. Malfoy because you do too! One hundred points off of both Gryffindor and Slytherin. You both will report to my classroom tomorrow after dinner for detention," she sniffed.
The next night…
Draco placed his feet on his desk and learned back, folding his hands behind his head. It was one of those weeks. That's when she walked in. A dame with legs for days and a body built like a brick shithouse with an iron door. She looked upset. "Detective, you have to help me," she pleaded. "I'm not taking on any more cases lady," he answered, tipping his hat over his eyes. "I'll pay you five hundred galleons," she offered. He flicked his hat back over his eyes, suddenly interested. Five hundred galleons was a lot of dough…
"What seems to be the problem?" he removed his feet off the desk and scooted towards the end of his seat. She sat on the edge of the desk and grabbed him by his suspenders. "My dog…my precious purebred champion Lhasa Apso, had been dognapped. I need you to find him! He's the only thing I have to live for." She pouted and he wanted to push her away. She wanted him to find a dog? He was a detective for cripes sake! "I don't find dogs, dolly. I'm a real detective," he said, trying to pry her hands off his suspenders. "Please! I'll do anything!" she cried throwing the hand over her eyes. He hated to see a dame in distress, especially a dame with great gams. "Alright, fine. I'll do it. Just, stop crying. What can you tell me about your…dog?" he sighed. She looked at him with large eyes, filled with gratitude. "Puppy biscuits. He loves puppy biscuits," she told him.
"Puppy biscuits?" Draco muttered.
"What the hell are you talking about Malfoy? Have you finally lost your mind?" Weasley said, looking at him as if he had three heads.
"Malfoy's don't lose their minds, Weasley," he sneered.
"Doctor Malfoy, no one has successfully performed a lobotomy on a man who has lost his mind! What makes you think you can do it?" the nurse said, helping him into his surgical robes. "That's because I wasn't doing it, Nurse Weasley," he said entering the operating room. "Oh Doctor Malfoy," she swooned and he caught her. "Get a grip, woman. This is a very difficult procedure and I need you to have your wits about you," he said. "Oh doctor, you are the most handsome doctor to walk the magic world! I don't care if I'm a dirty blood traitor! Take me!" she breathed. "Not now, nurse. We have a job to do," he said, still holding onto her as she swooned again. He lowered his head and pulled his nurse into a passionate, pre-surgery kiss.
The kiss was delightful, the nurse eagerly responding. She tasted a bit like peanut butter. He liked peanut butter. His hand found his way to her soft hair and he deepened the kiss. She definitely tasted like peanut butter now. His tongue probed her willing mouth for a brief moment, enjoying the peanutty taste before nibbling on her lower lip.
"What the bloody hell was that for, you batty ponce?" she cried, pushing him away. Draco blinked, surprised. Had he just kissed Weasley? And did he just enjoy it? He really needed to stop getting so in to his daydreams…
"Sorry, I was…must have gotten carried away," he muttered, turning back to the teacups they were supposed to transfigure back into toads. He gruffly grabbed a teacup that was trying to hop away and poked it with his wand, ignoring the odd look his detention partner was giving him.
Ginny Weasley watched as Malfoy continued to work on their detention assignment, a slight smile on her face. Mister Weasleys-Are-The-Scum-Of-The-Earth himself had just snogged her! And during a daydream no less! She wasn't sure what made her giddier: the fact that Draco Malfoy, the epitome of cool detachment, had a habit of daydreaming or the fact that he had kissed her. She decided she rather liked his kisses. And his habit of daydreaming. After detention, she was going to pull him into a dark corridor and snog the living day lights out of him. She reached for a croaking teacup and winked at the spacy bloke who gave her a small smirk. Oh yes, Draco Malfoy will not feel his lips when she was through with him.
"You called, your highness?" asked Queen Ginny's man servant. "Yes, I did, Malfoy. I believe it is time for my daily foot massage…"
A/N: I hope you liked reading it as much as I liked writing it! Please review!