DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and related ventures don't belong to me. There I said it.
RATED: M
A/N: Inspired by the classic disney tale of "Beauty & the Beast." My christmas treat to you all. It's a novella that isn't meant for kids. Shoo.
"Draco - you're nearly 30."
"Are you going anywhere with this?"
"Don't you think it's about time you married?"
"Save this conversation for another day, mum."
"Look at all the lovely girls at the gala. The fact they turned up, shows they're very charitable!"
"What are you trying to say exactly?"
"Nothing, darling. Nothing for you to worry about."
"Are you trying to say I'm a charity case?"
On cue, they turned as one to face the oncoming danger. Countess Medusa, mimicking greek folklore, loomed above them with her disgustingly squelchy lips. As she tried to plant a smoocher, Draco grimaced at the saliva action his cheek was getting.
"Narcissa!" She thankfully turned to his mum. "You're looking radiant as always!"
"Well," Narcissa preened. "I do try."
"Draco," Countess Medusa called out, as he tried to slip backwards. "Let me introduce you to my daughter."
Dread pooled in his stomach. Not the bushy-monobrowed freak who insisted following him around when they were children? He had been awfully glad, the day the Countess announced her upcoming nuptials were taking place in Sicily, and a nice castle was being built in her honour, so how could she possibly come back?
"Drusilla," Countess Medusa flapped a hand above their heads. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."
Feeling cornered, Draco snatched a champagne flute from a passing waiter and took a big gulp. The next second, he unattractively spat out his mouthful back into the glass. A chubby palm had landed on his neatly coiffed shoulder, his knees nearly buckling under the weight. Horrified, he slowly his head to face the new guest.
Time had not been kind to Drusilla.
That was the nicest way of putting it.
She resembled a fat, greedy mountain boar crammed into a pink dress. Who was she trying to kid? Nobody was going to tap that. There was even whiskers above her upper lip, and her nose tapered like a short snout. There wasn't even a double jaw. Quadruple, was the word. The whole hideous effect, was contrasted by blonde ringlets tightly stitched to her skull.
"Draco," she panted, leaning heavily against him. This time, one knee noticeably gave. And was she actually standing on one tip-toe, straining her neck to plant one? "You look good. You always look good."
"I know," he said haughtily. "The same compliments are not returned."
Drusilla giggled. She sounded like a warthog being tickled.
"You always were the funny one. Why can nobody else see it but me?"
"Excuse me?"
"Well, mother tells me you don't even have a girlfriend. I can see you scaring them all away."
"With good reason too," Draco muttered. "Any chance of it working now?"
Drusilla slapped him lightly on the shoulder, and Draco bellowed in pain. As the crowds turned away, back to their mindless chatter, for the first time Draco saw a tinge of embarrassment colouring her cheeks. Good. This mammoth deserved society shaming her to do something about her appearance.
Looking like this was not okay.
A cruel idea formed in his head, one of his masterpieces that spelled trouble.
"Drusilla," he turned to face her, gaze more sympathetic. "The music is too loud here. Should we head to the other end of the room, by the snacks table?" Under his breath, he snidely remarked. "It's where you belong."
A side glance told him, Drusilla had heard the last comment. Her face was displaying a myriad of emotions. Pride, that she was being escorted across the room on Draco Malfoy's arm, disbelief he had politely requested her to join his trek, and denial that she had witnessed his nastiness.
Already, she walked with her head hung low, avoiding the eyes of onlookers. She felt ashamed of her ugliness.
Draco was keen to exploit that weakness.
"What would you like?" he offered, retrieving a plate once they arrived at the snacks table.
"Aren't you hungry?" Drusilla implored.
"I've been here longer than you, remember," Draco smiled. "I've already had my fill."
"Well then..." she stared at the table, reddening slightly. "You choose."
This was the opening he was waiting for. Without another question, he picked up a plate of shortbread cake and tipped it into Drusilla's. Since there was only five left, no-one whinged. Next, he deposited six eclairs on top of the cake, whipped cream destroying the sponge.
"That's enough, Draco," Drusilla said nervously. "I don't want anymore."
Draco didn't listen. As he worked around the table, pushing other snackers out of the way, it caused a small disturbance at his end of the hall. This time he grabbed a bowl of jelly, and upturned it straight on top of the eclairs. An audible gasp now rang in the silent room, as he looked up at Drusilla.
"What are you doing?" she whispered, tears threatening to fall down her face.
"You have a big appetite," he worded deliberately. "I'm merely feeding you."
He looked down at the plate in chagrin. "Admittedly, the food looks like a slop, but then you are no different to a pig, are you?"
An even bigger gasp from his audience. A few giggled, and it warmed Draco's heart to see it was his former Slytherin classmates. He always knew Blaise, Theo, Goyle and Pansy could back him up.
Drusilla's lower lips wobbled. She was utterly distraught. Draco could literally hear her heart breaking into smithereens, and it was a beautiful sound. No more Countess Medusa and Drusilla shoved down his throat then.
"Why are you...so shallow!" she burst out. "Can't you just be nice?"
"Not to you, no." He said, and a few laughed.
"I...I...HATE YOU!"
"Oooh," he shivered. "Now I'm really going to have trouble sleeping at night."
He expected Drusilla to flee. That was the box-standard thing for a jilted girl to do. But Drusilla drew to her full height and clapped her hands over her head. Draco was distracted by how her upper arms kept vibrating long after. Despite not having a wand, the ceiling above them turned stormy and black.
Lightening flashed, extinguishing all the candelabrums.
Draco stared, agog. What type of magic was this? Was Drusilla's great ancestor the one who cast the charm on the ceiling in The Great Hall at Hogwarts? It would explain a lot.
Drusilla opened her eyes and they were black. When she opened her lips, a deep powerful voice filled the room, unlike any Draco had heard before. It sounded ancient but young, sacred but condemning, and every syllable crackled with power.
"He who stands before me, unmarked, he who stands before me, unrejected. Let the ugliness of his soul manifest in his skin, so all shall see the monster I see, all shall hear the evil I hear, all shall reject this man, Draco Abraxius Malfoy, from the warmth of their homes and from the tenderness of of their love. He is, in essence, a person unworthy of life."
Dumbstruck, Draco watched Drusilla pick up her skirts, sobbing, and run out of the door. The clouds above him began to dissipate and the candles relit again in their holders.
Instinctively, he reached up to touch his face, but there were his features. Nothing felt different, as he dragged his fingerpads over his eyebrows. Someone barged into him, and he realised it was the Countess Medusa leaving the party early. Her elbow dug purposefully into his gut, as she sailed past with her nose in the air.
"Draco mate," Blaise arrived a few seconds later. "What the hell was that?"
"I don't know," Draco wheezed.
"Do you feel any different?"
"No."
"Oh that's all right then," Blaise sighed. "I thought that mumbo-jumbo meant something, but turns out it was a bitter rant. Don't sweat it, Draco. I've had loads of girls getting pissed when I gave them a cold shoulder. Allow her to cool for two days, before you send a box of chocolates."
"Why would I send a box of chocolates to Sicily?"
Blaise whistled. "Whew. Is that where she lives? Forget it, then. It's not like you're going to run into her anytime soon. What a mutt, though. Draco, where do you pick up these mingers?"
"I don't," he said through gritted teeth. "They find me."
Draco looked over Blaise's shoulder, and cursed when he found out he was still centre of attention. Blaise noticed his discomfort and told everyone there was "nothing to see." Draco had a funny feeling he was hot topic on everyone lips, and that pesky Daily Prophet reporter his mother invited, was going to make this a feature instead of the gala.
Maybe that lightening he saw wasn't lightening after all.
Maybe it was a camera flash.
Reasoning was much better than hyperventilating, so Draco sat down in the corner, and didn't get up until the guests started to leave and he was free from annoying questions.
His mother was right. He was nearly 30. It was time to ask Pansy for her hand in marriage and end this shit once and for all.
"So what was that all about?"
Trust women to initiate a conversation, in the midst of their holy temple being desecrated. Draco was pounding away into Daphne like a jackhammer, and the exertion was costing him a lot of sweat. Daphne, on the otherhand, looked completely unruffled despite her entire body jiggling all over the place.
Growling, he draped one of her legs over his shoulder, so the angle he was hitting was more deep. More intense.
"Oh," she panted, reaching up and grabbing hold of his biceps. "That feels nice."
"Feels nice does it, you slutty bitch?"
Daphne grinned up at him, loving the dirty talk. A complete contrast to her sister, he might add.
"You still haven't told me. Who was that frightful creature I heard rumours about? At the gala?"
"Stop talking."
"Did my invitation get lost in the post?" Her fingers ran like a spider up his arm.
The next second, she gripped his shoulder painfully and her face grimaced, like she was being stung by a hive. Daphne always did have an unattractive cum face (as opposed to her sister.) Smirking, Draco felt his buttcheeks clench as the final push was the climatic one. Spent, he rolled over and threw an arm over his eyes. This allowed the skank to perch her chin on his abdomen.
"How about I give you head?"
"Hurry up then."
After a lot of lip-smacking and throaty noises, the deed was done. Draco wasted no time, in climbing out of bed, and throwing on a shirt. The night was still young, and he'd agreed to meet Parkinson in twenty minutes. Daphne was retching in the toilet, because she'd sucked it down the wrong pipe or something. Hopeless blower.
At least, that gave him the pleasure of slipping out uninterrupted.
As he hit the promenade leading out the motel, a wave of dizziness took over. Staggering, like a drunkard, he braced himself on a nearby fence nearly falling over. Was he coming down with man-flu? The thought of Pansy drove him on. She'd agreed to meet him in an exclusive pureblood eaterie around the corner.
"Draco!" she stood up from her window seat, looking concerned. "Are you okay?"
"Fine now, sweets."
She pulled a chair out for him. "Here, come sit down."
"Thanks a million. Lean down for a kiss."
Pansy obligingly leant down, and they smooched for a good two minutes. Eventually, still holding his hand over the table, she sat across the table and huddled in.
"What a hoot Drusilla was tonight!"
"She's pissed off back to Sicily," Draco said through gritted teeth. "Let's stop talking about that sorry excuse of a hulk ."
Pansy giggled, pleased Draco was putting down the looks of a girl in front of her. It was a familiar light she recognised and welcomed. Pansy stirred a spoon through the foam of her coffee, not expecting for Draco to suddenly upturn her clasped hand, and drop a small jewellery box into her palm.
"Is that a...?" she gaped.
"Open it," he said with intensity. "Then say yes."
Shivering, she unwound the ribbon slowly and pried open the box. In the cushioned middle, was a 18-carrat ring with set emerald stones and diamonds. Tears instantly sprung up.
"Y-Y-Yes."
"Yes?"
"YES, DRACO! I LOVE YOU!" Pansy jumped up and enveloped the half-risen Draco in a hug. He gripped her round the waist, and twirled her around, as the entire restaurant burst into applause.
"Perfect match!" the couple beside them were sniffing. "Such valued lineages coming together!"
"Someone bring out a cake!" a voice yelled out. Draco put Pansy down.
"It's not necessary," he waved a hand. "But thank you all for your support."
"Let's celebrate," Pansy whispered in his ear. "I know a motel around here, we could have sex."
"What a lucky man I am," he stared into her eyes. "Let's go."
Pansy grinned at everyone as they left. Draco let her go out front, lingering behind. Once they went through the ardous process of checking in, Draco automatically started unbuttoning his shirt. Pansy vanished into the bathroom, and came out, wearing a little slip.
"What's that on your shoulder?"
Draco froze. Don't tell him Daphne left a mark?
Turning the light on, he examined his collarbone at the complimentary dressing mirror. Dark, ugly boils sat where unblemished skin should've been. It looked like someone had knocked corrosive liquid over him, glancing just off his shoulder.
"I don't know," he frowned.
"Did you have it earlier?"
"I said I don't know!" he snapped.
"All right," Pansy crossed her arms. "No need to get so shirty! I'll still sleep with you."
"Thanks for the consideration," Draco snarled, poking at the bumpy exterior.
"Come on, babe," Pansy came from behind, and splayed her hand over his chest. "You have a very expectant fiance to satisfy. Stop thinking about that for a minute, and fuck me."
One hand fell from his washboard stomach, and delved into his waistband. She took a firm grasp of his penis.
"I'll do all the work," she breathed into his ear.
Well. Who could refuse that? Pretty soon, Pansy was riding him like a darned cowgirl, writhing and bouncing with boundless enthusiasm. Her tits were smaller than Daphne's, but bigger than Astoria's. Perching his hands on her rounded bottom, Draco let her do all the work. He was exhausted.
Just as his eyes were fluttering close, the door burst open to reveal a hassled porter and Daphne.
"I-Is this the room?" he stuttered. "T-That you locked yourself out off?"
Draco watched, wide-eyed, as Daphne drew herself to full height and roll up the sleeves of her chemise. Pansy had stopped what she was doing, paralysed too. Calmly, so not to scare them off, Daphne walked up to the bed and grabbed hold of Pansy's hair.
"OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW- !"
"ENJOYING YOURSELF, ARE WE?" She shook Pansy like a ragdoll. "YOU SLUTTY TRAMP! DRACO'S USED GOODS! HE FUCKED ME, JUST BEFORE HE FUCKING PROPOSED TO YOUR SAGGY ARSE! HOW DOES IT FEEL? KNOWING YOUR HOOHA IS ENVELOPING A DICK STILL COVERED IN MY SALIVA?!"
Draco gaped.
Daphne was a nutcase. It wasn't like Pansy was going to believe -
"DRACO, I FUCKING HATE YOU RIGHT NOW!" Pansy bellowed. "IF MY VAG WAS A MINCER, IT WOULD'VE SHREDDED YOUR DISEASE-RIDDLED PRICK!"
Shrieking, Pansy was pulled of him by a crazed Daphne, and they continued scratching each other on the floor. The porter was staring petrified into the room, so Draco pulled a pillow over his lap. The sucker deserved to be obliviated, and then have a door slammed in his face. He did exactly that, before turning back to the two females.
They were currently holding each other and sobbing. What the -?
"You've used us," Daphne was sobbing. "You've turned us against each other! We used to be best friends, you know."
"Oh, so you're ganging up on me now?"
"You idiot," Pansy spat. "You don't know what you've lost!"
"Whatever," Draco dismissively ran his eyes over her. "You're a lousy shag anyway. Good luck to the next bastard who proposes to you."
"Take the ring back!" Pansy wrenched it from her finger, and chucked it at him. "Merlin help the next bitch you present it too! She's not going to know what's hit her."
Daphne snorted. "Let's go, Pansy. We're better than this bonehead."
"Well, hurray for your enlightenment," Draco sneered. "Both of you have no shame. Seriously, haven't your parents taught you any better than spreading your legs for any waft of breeze, screaming take me, take me?"
"We're normal women who enjoy sex," Pansy said huffily, picking herself up. "Just like you - there's nothing to be ashamed of."
"Here," Daphne offered Pansy the robes she'd dropped on the floor. "Cover yourself up, dear."
As they made the way to the door, Pansy was the last one to leave. "Oh by the way," she smiled nastily, turning one last time. "Theo thinks there might be something in that mumbo-jumbo Drusilla said tonight. I didn't want to scare you, but," she gestured at his shoulder. "It looks like it might already be starting. Enjoy christmas out in the cold, Draco, cause no-one's going to take you in, you heartless bastard."
Draco picked up an ornate vase and threw it in her direction. Pansy ducked out of the door, but peeked back in, just to hammer the point across.
"You really should've finished that shag, Draco, as it's probably your last one. Sweet dreams."
All thoughts welcome. Except rude ones. Keep those to yourself :)