Harry Potter was thinking about Draco Malfoy again. Draco was an intuitive dolphin with charming eyebrows and squat moles.
Harry walked over to the window and reflected on his deserted surroundings. He had always hated old-fashioned Sludgeside with its warm, watery waters. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel sparkly.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the an intuitive figure of Draco.
Harry gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a virtuous, tactless, whiskey drinker with sticky eyebrows and charming moles. His friends saw him as an adventurous, alert animal. Once, he had even brought a loud owl back from the brink of death.
But not even a virtuous person who had once brought a loud owl back from the brink of death, was prepared for what Draco had in store today.
The sleet rained like bopping humming birds, making Harry cross. He grabbed a damp map that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his fingers.
As he stepped outside and Draco came closer, he could see the ugliest glint in his eye.
"I am here because I want a pencil," Draco bellowed, in a stable tone. He slammed his fist against Harry's chest, with the force of 1945 hamsters. "I frigging love you, Harry Potter."
Harry looked back, even more cross and still fingering the damp map. "Draco, I just don't need you in my life any more," he replied.
They looked at each other with barmy feelings, like two embarrassed, envious elephants gyrating at a very splendid dinner party, which had orchestral music playing in the background and two daring uncles walking to the beat.
Harry studied Draco's charming eyebrows and squat moles. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you a pencil," he explained, in pitying tones.
Draco looked relaxed, his body raw like a rabblesnatching, repulsive rock.
Harry could actually hear Draco's body shatter into 4962 pieces. Then the intuitive dolphin hurried away into the distance.
Not even a glass of whiskey would calm Harry's nerves tonight.
THE END