(A/N: Well, I warmly welcome you all to an entirely new series of exceedingly dumb stories about Lucius Malfoy. These, however, are not part of the Pureblooded Antics series, but something entirely separate. Another series of the aforementioned shall also be started soon, and so be so kind as to not confuse the two. As I was saying, a new series. No length or storyline has been planned for this series as yet, since it was created in a bout of inspiration so sudden, that it left no room nor time to reason. The title basically reveals the subject- the adventures of Lucius' alter ego, Don L. You may blame the idea entirely on the Adam Ant song Spanish Games- which is fantastic, and also the music the story is set to, so listen to it- on said Adam Ant's performance on the Cannon and Ball Show, and on Douglas Fairbanks' porn outfit in Don Q, Son of Zorro. Enjoy.)

Chapter One: You Can Be My Matador

It was a quiet evening, and Severus Snape was sitting in his office grading essays and drinking tea, when suddenly a strange sound made him start. It was a kind of strange clicking noise, and sounded rather a lot like a pair of castanets. But no, it couldn't be…

He returned to the essay, nonchalantly scribbling a line here and there in red ink, when a few bars of fiery flamenco music reached his ears. He looked up and around him sharply, but his office was as empty as ever.

"Ten points from whatever house you're in, and a month's detention if you don't show yourself immediately!" he shouted into the dark. But all was silent. Growling softly to himself, he got back to the essay. But he didn't even get as far as finishing the T he was rather artistically drawing on it, before he was once again interrupted by the irresistible and exhilarating rhythm of the flamenco.

"Aargh!" he said, getting up from his chair in order to dash around his office and find the scoundrel who kept intruding on his quality essay grading time. But his roving eyes fell not upon an unfortunate student, but upon the satin clad figure of Lucius Malfoy, who was standing before him. "LUCIUS!" Snape shouted, perplexed.

Lucius nodded gracefully, tipped his Spanish hat, took the red rose from between his well-formed lips, and threw it with practiced carelessness onto the professor's desk, while his black cape fluttered about him dramatically. Then he put his hands on his hips, the whip he was holding in his right hand curling down to the ground alongside his thigh-high black boots, threw back his head and, in this posture, stood for some time, while the flamenco blared on in the background. Snape just stared at him.

"Why is there flamenco music playing in my office, Lucius?" he finally asked in a dangerous voice. Lucius looked at him, threw back his cape, turned away slightly, clapped his whip, and did a few dismal flamenco dance moves. "And why are you wearing those… those…" Snape stopped there, apparently too nauseous to continue.

"I have come," Lucius said, in a passionate voice, "to liberate you from the oppressive forces of the cruel and immoral blaggard Dumbledore!" Snape's eyes narrowed.

"Is that…" he said, squinting at Lucius' upper lip… "Did you… paint on a moustache?"

"Yes!" Lucius declared, striking a heroic pose, "In marker!"

"Marker?" said Snape, alarmed. "But that… "

"Yes! It does not wash off!" Lucius interrupted, jumping onto the desk, taking out his sword and fighting some invisible enemy with it. "Haha! Take that, Mr Rain!"

"Right." Snape said, raising an eyebrow as he stared up at Lucius' tight trousers, "Could you leave and bother some other lucky soul, please? I have essays to grade."

"Insanity!" Lucius bellowed, making a sweeping gesture, "Go away, and leave you in the claws of that monster? Never!" He cracked the whip again and did a dance on top of the Ravenclaw essays. "Never, while the sun burns red over the plains of Hogwarts, while there is flamenco music to inspire the hearts of men with sensual passion, while there is pride to inflame my heart, shall I leave you to the mercies of that greedy villain!"

At these words, a sudden dramatic light fell on Lucius, and the background music rose to new heights of camp. Snape sighed. "Lucius, shut up, and go away." He sat down again to grade the essays that Lucius hadn't stepped on.

"But Severus!" Lucius wailed ardently, "You can be my matador!" He kneeled down on the desk in a gallant manner, his leather boots creaking.

"I don't want to be your matador, Lucius." Snape said, calmly pulling an essay out from under Lucius' Cuban heel.

"Only you can tame my wild heart! Only to you is Don L prepared to reveal his secret identity!" Lucius pressed on ardently. Snape looked up.

"Don L?" he said, blinking in puzzlement. He cleared his throat and gazed up at Lucius intently. "Do you know…" he said, "… your moustache needs to be re-applied?" Lucius gasped.

"Quick! Before I am found out!" he said, putting a gloved hand to his brow. Snape opened a drawer in his desk, pointed his wand at it, muttered something, and took out a black marker. He leant in close to Lucius, and carefully redrew the moustache on his lip. For a moment, Lucius was ecstatic. Then…

"Hmm… smells funny, that marker." He said, looking slightly dazed. "Rather like chloroform." His eyes shut slowly, and he fell to the ground with a thud and a swoop of his cape.

"Finally, some peace and quiet," Snape muttered, looking at the unconscious shape on the floor. He shuddered. "Those trousers…" he said, and shook his head in disgust.