Disclaimer: Harry Potter doesn't belong to me; all I do is play with the characters. This one-shot was written as a response for a challenge at the DG FORUM.
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Guidelines: May be serious OR a Crack!Fic.
Must ship Draco/Ginny; Ginny must be a "dominant" character; Draco must be an "innocent" character; Malfoy must somehow be tricked; Malfoy must have his shirt torn off viciously; A secret must be revealed.
Length: Minimum 1000 words
Rating: Any (the higher the better)
Bonus: Mentions of Snape; Malfoy's choice of underwear; Someone budging in at some point (the perfect cliché) ; Ginny is somehow opinions connected to a banana; Malfoy is blindfolded;
Draco: Who?
RAZZLE CLAW
Your favourite seminar, bringing you gossip that will make you drool.
(Written by Ravenclaws for you).
Monday, 15th June 1998, started as a rather happy, sunny day at Hogwarts. But soon, with the release of the "Draco: Who?" article in the five o'clock print, the dreams of zillions of girls and boys were crushed to the point of no return.
"Draco: Who?" is the biggest scandal to cross the student life of this educational establishment since the Babbling Beverage incident in the late fifties, where a bottle of Babbling Beverage was slipped into the staff's breakfast and led to naked feasts and class assignments featuring the wonders of the big bright letters. (For more details on the Pink Moustache Rant, turn to page 6.)
Our tipper of yesterday's article desires to remain anonymous, although it is rumoured around the school to be little Amanda from Hufflepuff who gave us the juicy gossip, a rumour that we neither confirm nor deny.
Annexed to today's edition, we also bring an excerpt of the contents of the book that our informer found and gave to us with proof of our claims. We apologise for not being able to share it in yesterday's emergency edition. We also hope it satisfies those of you who have sent us letters clogging our secret cupboard with claims of the article being a blasphemy.
For those of you who spent the whole of yesterday curled up under a rock or doing inappropriate things in classrooms – the only possible way you could not have heard the news – here is the little bomb in big, bold letters:
DRACO MALFOY, Slytherin "Sex God" Extraordinaire, IS A VIRGIN.
Written by Lisa Turpin and edited by Mandy Brocklehurst, your favourite news reporters.
. . .
The evidence is as it arrived to us by our informers:
Mission: 42 days to get Malfoy laid before graduation.
TO-DO LIST:
- Get rid of the underwear Aunt Narcissa sent Draco.
- Evanesco Draco's clothes and throw him at a female (Weasley will do).
- Give him the talk.
- Slap him when he starts rambling about red hair.
- Stop him from talking with Hufflepuffs.
- Hex him when he tells me I am wrong.
- Find a bezoar for Snape.
- Remind house-elf to clean socks.
- Talk to Neville for information about the Weasley.
- Poison Draco and get him kissed.
- Throw him naked in a bubble bath and call the weasel.
- Pray to Merlin that Draco grows a pair very soon.
Page 2. (The correct censorships were made to protect all the entities behind this piece of shocking information. Your editor, Mandy Brocklehurst)
x
"So you're only with me to get shagged?"
"Don't be ridiculous!" I say after a moment's hesitation, but I'm too late. Ginny has already slapped me across the face and stormed out the door, leaving me alone in a very pink room. I fall onto the bed and massage my still-very-red cheek, dreading the headache that is sure to come after the day I've just had.
I've been laughed at by Blaise, gaped at by Hermione, ridiculed by Peeves, sneered at by twelve-year-olds, and slapped by my girlfriend. Worst of all, instead of being the Slytherin Sex God Extraordinaire, I am now the Slytherin Poof Prude, the only guy in Hogwarts above fifth year to still hold onto his virginity like a hysterical fan girl of the Weird Sisters' vocalist. Even the Gryffindor idiot has lost his virginity, and I am pretty sure it was to the girl who has just left her handprint across my face.
I grab my trousers and pull them on, wandering out of the Room of Requirement towards the Slytherin common room where I will have to break it to Blaise that yet another of his plans to get me laid has failed miserably. I sigh, certain that this will not go over well, but figuring I might as well get it over with.
When my Slytherin compatriot found out that I am not the Slytherin Sex God I had been claimed to be, he made getting me a sex life his newest goal. I still remember him ordering champagne and cheering to 'Draco becoming a man' when I told him I had been snogged.
I tried to tell him that I had already dated Pansy, but according to him, 'hand groping' wasn't even considered take off and I obviously hadn't been good enough since she had left me for Freckle Face in the end.
"Draco?" I turn around, my musings interrupted by Pansy, who peels herself off Weasley and moves towards me, ignoring the protests of the illiterate she had been salivating over.
Coming closer to me, she points towards the now-inexistent door and whispers, "What happened? I saw the Weasel Girl leaving, and let me tell you, she did not seem satisfied."
"Nothing happened," I mumble, knowing full well that this will upset Pansy. Like Blaise, she is trying to meddle in things she shouldn't.
"What?"
"Nothing happened!" I say a little too loudly, only to see Weasley stretching his neck towards us so far that if he stretched it any more it would surely fall off.
"What didn't happen?" he grunts (because really, that's the only form of speech he is capable of).
"Draco didn't manage to help your sister with her Potions assignment, and she was very upset," Pansy responds, quickly and calmly.
She always could answer best under pressure (something about her having to deal with her overprotective father snooping around her romantic relationships).
"Why don't you go and play Quidditch with Harry or something?" she adds, "I am going to my common room to get some books to help Draco here."
Weasley doesn't question her words, and I am glad of it. I definitely don't want her beloved boyfriend snooping around what I intend to do with his sister… He doesn't even know we are dating or perhaps – dated. I'm not sure Ginny still wants me after her explosion back in the room.
"Come on, let's go!" I feel Pansy's grip on my arm as she pushes me through the corridor. "I can't believe you couldn't do it. Is it that hard, Draco? If you are having technical difficulties, you should go to Saint Mung-"
I cut off the rest of her speech, affronted by the idea. "I am not having technical problems, thank you very much! I am, after all, a Malfoy."
She rolls her eyes, obviously not impressed with my reply (I don't know why). "With all your blood rushing to your cheeks instead of where it's supposed to, I wonder if that's true."
She smirks at my horror. "'Honestly, get a grip, Draco! Sincewhen do you blush? I've been seeing you turning pink way too often lately. Keep it up, and I'll start confusing you with a Hufflepuff!"
"Since when is yours and Blaise's favourite past time mussing about my sex life?" Because really, one would think she would be spending her free time doing other things.
"That would be your lack of sex life,"she points out before I can complain "And if it weren't for us finding out after the incident with Amanda,when you ran away from her after she tried to strip for you, that you aren't that worthy of your reputation-"
"You started it!" It was her rumours back in our fourth year (after she found me looking a bit too long at Millie) that started the entire craze around me. Soon every female student had shagged a bit of Malfoy. And, well, I was fourteen. What was I supposed to do? Admit they were lying?
"You didn't deny it either. Now tell me, what went wrong?" she says in an annoyed voice, that resembles the one of a mother scolding a toddler, as she starts climbing down the stairs, still pushing me in front of her.
"Your 'perfectley designed' bedroom for a start!" I answer, remembering all the things I had found while preparing it, which had made my rather impassive eyes bulge out and my cheeks match the colour of the room.
She furrows her eyebrows in confusion, "What's the problem with it? It has a bed."
"Yes, and pink, fluffy handcuffs!" I scream. Well, yell. Malfoys don't scream.
"You're turning pink again. And I've never found that in the room. Maybe it thought you two need them..." She smiles, apparently pleased with the discovery that Ginny might be as crazy as she was. Because I'm absolutley sure the handcuffs weren't for me!
But wait . . ."When have you been in that bedroom? I thought you 'designed' it exclusively for me and Ginny."
"Sometimes Ron and I use like pink." Her and Weasley, there? What?
"That's just . . . You're creeping me out!" I say simply, not wanting to think any more about it.
We arrive at the dungeons and move towards our portrait hole, and even though my face is turned away from Pansy, I can feel her rolling her eyes besides me.
"Like you weren't going to do the exact same thing." As if that made it better "Oh, don't be such a prude, 'll get wrinkles before you're thirty, frowing that much!"
"I'm not frowning." Malfoys don't frown either. It's unworthy; instead, we 'look distastefully'. "And that is not the point. The point is that she also saw the magazine."
"How? She's in Gryffindor; everyone knows they are oblivious to the world around them. Ron doesn't know..."
I snort. "How surpri-Ouch, Pansy!"
"You can stop the snickering; at least Ron isn't hoping for a wedding in white."
Really? "Oh, shut up!" One would think the jokes would grow old after the first hundred times she had poked fun of me for my lack of experience. Malfoys aren't man-sluts; we have class.
"Pssh, good retort, mate!"
"Blaise!" Pansy says, and I turn around to see him behind us.
"Anguis fovea," he mutters to the portrait before us and enters the deserted common room, taking a seat in one of the black dragonskin chairs, waiting for us to join him. Pansy finally lets go of my arm and sits next to him, ignoring me.
"He didn't do it! Again! How hard can it be? He also managed to get that Weasley girl to throw a tantrum," she rants, her voice becoming more high-pitched as she goes on. "I think we should move on to my plan."
"I am not going to lose my virginity to some Knockturn Alley Squib!"
Blaise rubs his temples, obviously tired. Perhaps he would now be willing to give up on his ridiculous plans to 'make me a man'.
"Well, Draco, all of my plans have failed. Which one is this?" His left hand makes dramatic circles in the air. "The fourth one? I feel that our dear friend is right. Especially since Ginevra seems to have dumped you-"
"She didn't dump me," I correct. "She just thinks I'm just using her for sex."
Pansy's eyebrows rise at my words. "Aren't you?"
"No, Pansy, can't you see that – just like you – he has fallen for the redheaded charm?" Blaise explains in the almighty tone of voice he likes to use when addressing children, or his fellow Slyths.
"Shut up, Blaise!" she says, too strained to think of another response, or perhaps the time she's been spending with Weasley is rubbing off on her. "Anyway, what are we supposed to do? And how did she find out about the magazine?"
"Apparently, Granger reads it," I explain, wondering why the 'smartest witch of our age' would care about which eye shadows makes Michael Corner swoon.
"I always knew she loved gossip, I bet she reads it because of all the features about my 'long, brown, slanting eyes'."
This little comment by my dear friend earns him a glare from Pansy, who then proceeds to pat his shoulder and say in a sickeningly sweet voice that would make the bravest Gryffindor cower in fear."Sorry to disappoint you, Cupcake, but she is all eyes for Scarhead."
He ignores her, returning to the subject of my lack of experience. "I think we ought to let nature take its course. I've already helped Draco the best I could..."
"Helped?" I say increduously. "You burned my underwear -"
"You were wearing girl's underwear!" he points out, which, might I add, is a lie. They were just pink boxers, which isn't women's underwear, but the latest craze in Wizarding Paris. But that would be too much for my not-so-cultured best friend to understand.
"It wasn't women's under-" I try to explain, but am cut off by Pansy's annoying voice, dripping with a sad attempt at sarcasm.
"Whatever you say..."
"Pansy, please stop talking," I tell her, before glaring at the one to blame for all this mess and saying in a collected voice, "Blaise, please tell me how trying to convince Ginny I needed to have sex to be saved from the poisoning I suffered from a potion you made," his first brilliant idea, "– making me earn a month's worth of detention from Madam Pomfrey, by the way – throwing me naked into the prefects' bathroom," his second brilliant idea, "making me suffer an attempt of a sexual assault by Moaning Myrtle –"
"It isn't my fault ghosts can walk through walls."
I glare in Blaise's direction and continue, "and forcing me to try to seduce my girlfriend in a romantically decorated Room of Requirement, which, in the end, only got me a red cheek! All because you lost the stupid diary you wrote about my sex life. How is this supposed to help me?" I stop to regain my breath before adding, "Oh, and let's not forget comparing her to a banana –"
To my displeasure he doesn't look fazed at all, not even the slightest bit. "Well, bananas are only good when they are peeled..."
"I –"
"Calm down," Pansy interrupts, holding a tray of tea with both hands, making her look awfully domestic. "Let's have some Ginseng tea and try to come up with another plan."
I take the cup she hands to me and sip it, too angry to bother refusing. I continue drinking and don't even notice the wink she gives to Blaise before it all turns black.
I should have known. How Slytherin.
x
I wake up what seems like only a moment later. I notice something covering my eyes – a blindfold – but despite my attempts to take it off, I only manage to scratch my face.
"Don't bother, Draco. We put a Permanent Sticking Charm on it," I hear Blaise's voice say. He is close, but apparently not close enough for me to try and punch him.
"You tricked me!" I yell, realising that I am stating the obvious.
"And you allowed yourself to be tricked," Pansy replies in a mocking tone, making me wish I had my wand so I could wipe the stupid grin she must be wearing right off her face.
I wonder if she would still be smiling if her hair looked like a blue version of Granger's. However, since I cannot see anything nor do I have my wand, my only option is to hear her rant.
" - making my assumption of you becoming a Hufflepuff even more true," she finishes at last, sounding rather pleased with herself, before adding, "And stop moving your arms around in the air, you're starting to look like a drunk house-elf!"
I rub my temples and shiver, feeling a wave of wind whoosh by me. "Where are we?"
"In Hogsmeade. We're taking you to a club-" Blaise explains. I can hear the grin in his voice. I am sure he loves these raunchy clubs, but Malfoys (who have far more class than the Zabinis) do not.
"No, you're not," I say clearly. "I'm going back to Hogwarts, with or without my sight!" I move away from them on a Gryffindor impulse (because, really, walking in Hogsmeade during the night while blind folded isn't the smartest of ideas).
They make no attempt to follow me, probably deciding to have a drink before sending Dobby or some unfortunate ghost looking for me. That is what you get when your friends are Slytherins.
About fifteen minutes later, with no idea of where I am, I feel something or someone pulling violently at my shirt and feel extremely lightheaded, as if I have just been Stunned.
x
I wake up for what seems to be the third time this day. My head is aching, but before I can run away or say anything to my attacker, I hear giggles erupting from them.
"Come on, let's take him to Blaise..."
"Why don't we keep him for ourselves?"
"Mary! Are you crazy? This is Draco Malfoy!"
"So what? He has just as much experience as we do."
More giggles. How dare they mock me! I bet they're Ravenclaws.
"Now, now, ladies, what was our deal?"
I knew he was behind this. Apparently, he scared off the Ravenclaws.
"Bl-Blaise! We were going to take him right away..."
"Sure, sure... now go."
I knew they weren't Hufflepuffs, because they're too loyal to try and kidnap me, or Gryffindors because, to be honest, the idea of a Gryffindor cowering to Blaise is ridiculous, and Slytherins don't giggle. Ever.
My mental rant is interrupted, and I feel my blindfold being taken off. Suddenly, I am face to face, once again, with my best friend; except this time, we are in his room.
"What was that back there? Now twelve-year-olds are doing your dirty work?" I say, trying to make him feel embarrassed. It doesn't work (I shouldn't expect it to. After all, this is the boy whom McGonagall found engaging in less than worthy activities on her desk and was proud to tell the tale afterwards.)
"The house-elves were busy," he says smugly, apparently proud of his twelve-year-old fangirls. "And I'd have left you to be assaulted by some creepy old lady, if it was not for Pansy insisting on finding you. I swear, all that time she spends with Weasel Boy is getting to her head..."
I leave him talking alone and head to my bedroom down the hall. But when I open the door, I find a redhead on my bed, writing down furiously on a piece of parchment. I am shocked.
"Ginny?"
An uninterested answer comes from the mop of red hair. "Yes, Draco, I am not Harry Potter Polyjuiced in a skirt, don't worry."
"I should hope not," I say, grinning her way. "I don't want to think I've given the Slytherin password to Potter and have been snogging him for the last two months."
She smirks (though not as well as me, might I add) at my antics. "Have you been counting?"
"Every second." I wink.
"Really?" She raises her eyebrow, still not looking away from the parchment.
"Yes, and I am also Neville Longbottom," I answer, upset at her for ignoring me for a piece of paper.
"Very amusing, Draco." She folds whatever she's been reading and gets up, walking towards me.
"We need to talk." I start, "Blaise's notes were an exaggeration –"
She ignores my words and points at my chest. "You're missing a shirt." I look down and notice that, in fact, I am shirtless. It must have been those girls . . . Better not tell Ginny about that.
"Washing," I quickly answer, before returning to my initial speech. "I just want you to know that I'm not with you for the occasional shag." And, the thing is, I meant it.
Dating Ginny might have started as a way for both of us to pass time , nothing too serious, but somewhere between snogging in deserted corridors, being caught by McGonagall and having my arse kicked at Quidditch (though I'll never admit it) I've become quite attached to the feisty redhead.
She was everything I'd never be; spontaneous, bubbly and utterly ridiculous – and not always in a good way. She represented everything I'd grown to hate. And that now, for some reason, I wanted to have. Being with her, as lame and Potter-ish as it sounds is like having a taste of freedom. Yes, she's got me wrapped around her little finger. . .
And now she is going to end up dumping me. The feeling dawns on me and I urge myself not to cringe.
She just stares at me, before adding in a fake hurt tone, "Are you saying I'm not desirable enough?"
"No," I say, correcting my mistake. Please don't dump me!
"No?" She teases.
"Yes – I mean –", I mumble pathetically – mumble! – before I feel her lips covering mine, shutting me up.
Not that I mind being used that way. Kissing Ginny is always fantastic. Her lips, the tongue – soon I forget what we'd been discussing in the first place.
Was it even important? Oh, wait, the article!
I manage to push her away. "I just hope you're not upset by that article."
"What article?" she asks, pulling me closer and once more, I try to stop her.
"You know." I answer looking pointedly her way.
"You-know-who?" she says, giggling at her own bad joke.
"Oh, come on Ginny!" I say exasperated, at her dismissal of the issue. "Less than a day ago you were rattling on about how I was only with you for a shag and now, all of sudden, you're all fine and dandy with it?"
"I thought you said weren't with me for a shag", she points out, obviously annoyed at my insistence in talking about this.
"I'm not." I repeat, before resting my hands on her shoulders, "I just want to make sure you know. I – heck –I think I love you, okay? And this is getting mushy, but I just want you to know that."
She just smiles, "I know," she whispers, "And I think I love you to."
She pushes herself up against me and gives me a quick kiss, before winking and adding "I was just rather worried you wanted to lose your virginity in a pink bedroom. . ."
"It's not about losing my virginity!"
She just laughs and pulls me down for a kiss.
It's while I'm in the middle of snogging my girlfriend that the doors to my bedroom open with a bang. We untangle ourselves and find a very red Ron Weasley looking at us.
Damn Pansy for letting him in!
"What the bloody hell is this?" he grunts, creatively, waving a copy of the Razzle Claw with me sporting a halo on top of my head. I recognize it, after all the oxygen returns to my brain, as yesterday's edition. "It says you are dating Draco!"
"I am. Now please leave, Ronald. I am trying to shag my boyfriend." I feel my cheeks turning red as Ginny stares defiantly at her brother.
"Ha, at least I know that is a lie. It says he is a-"
"Actually, honey," comes Pansy's voice from behind him (could we not have some privacy in this blasted castle?), "an apology edition retracting everything stated on that piece of paper you are clutching just came."
"What?" The orange haired beast turns to his girlfriend and grabs the shiny new print that has me with a crown over my head and a smirk on my face.
"Nice picture of me, don't you think, Gin?" I ask.
She gets the hint and answers loud enough for the other Weasley to hear, "Yes, you look so ravishing, I could ravish you right now!"
"GINNY!"
I am half-disappointed that he couldn't think of anything better, but then I ought to learn to set my expectations lower when regarding Pansy's paramour.
"Take him away from here," I tell her, rewarding me with an angry glare before she complies.
"Ron, they are just messing with you. Why don't I show you something I just bought for my bedroom...?"
"But-"
Ginny just waves at him, making an angelic face and when he is far enough away says, "Draco and I are going to make some nice pieces of proof for the ditzy Ravenclaws to post in their next brainless article."
"GIN-" However, the rest of the word isn't heard, and I believe Pansy has found new ways to distract him.
Urgh! Bad images. I turn to Ginny, trying to remove the idea of Pansy entertaining the other Weasley out of my head. "Did you go to Mandy about the article?"
"Why would I do that?" she questions me, still wearing a fake, innocent smile. "It's not like you care about your reputation, is it?" She moves to close the door, and then proceeds to come closer to me. "Besides you are the Slytherin Sex God, even if you don't know it yet..."
"Ginny, I –"
She puts her finger over my lips and winks deviously before whispering in my ear,"Don't worry. I'll walk you through it."
. . .
The End
(Or maybe not . . .)
x
RAZZLE CLAW
Your favourite seminar, bringing you gossip that will make you drool.
(Written by Ravenclaws for you).
We are very sorry to have to inform our readers that we made a mistake in the claim that Draco Malfoy is not a Sex God. He is a Sex God and is extremely sexy in his sexy underwear. The so-called proof that was posted in the last edition was forged. Draco Malfoy belongs to Ginny Weasley. So, for our twelve-year-old readers pining after Draco – give up.
Also, Blaise Zabini is a jerk. We also proclaim that we were not Confunded while writing this, and that these are our true opinions.
For information on the Severus Snape fan club we are all part of, please turn to page 3.
Written by Lisa Turnib and edited by Mandy Brockelyburst, your favourite news reporters.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
So, wow! I finally managed to edit and polish this one-shot out. It now lacks the storm of typos that first plagued it when I initially published it after an insane writing rush. The characters may still be delusional, but that's another matter entirely. Thank you to my lovely Beta's who endured the insanity of this story and helped me out with grammar and insight – Julia Claire, pippi55 and ImprintMeJacob: I love you all.
Also, Ha'niqua makes a much better 'You-Know-Who' joke in her story "Tacky Pureblood Humour".
Thoughts? Opinions?
Reviews are welcome. :)