Saw: The Draco Case

Early the next day, Draco decided that a trip into Diagon Alley was in order. He refused to become a prisoner in his own home all to escape the ridicule of his peers. Now that he was officially of age, he could Apparate without fear of the Ministry finding out.

The thing that Draco forgot with his initial plan of his trip was that he didn't fully know how to Apparate. He had studied it in books, but being such a rule-follower (if you didn't count the pranks pulled at Hogwarts) he'd never practiced it in reality. From what it sounded like, all you had to do was close your eyes and think of the destination that you wanted to go to. Kind of like how Dorothy figured out how to get back home, minus the pretty red shoes.

I wish I was in Diagon Alley, I wish I was in Diagon Alley, I wish I was in Diagon Alley!

A loud crack rang out and his surroundings began to warp and change.

I'm doing it! I'm Apparating! I'm finally going to do a physical activity right because Dark Lord knows I suck at Quidditch, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Herbology unless it's something to do with plants that intoxicate you when burned.

The warping continued until at last, he stood on the pavement in front of the ice cream parlor belonging to the Fortescues. His eyes opened wide in amazement that he'd pulled off this feat…until he looked down…and noticed that he happened to be missing one of his feet. It lay beside him on the sidewalk.

"Holy mother-(beep) and a pile of (beep) on (beep) bread with (beep) on the side and (beep) for dinner! I just (beeped) myself! Wait, I can say that word. I just splinched myself! And I think I might have (beeped) myself as well, but let's handle one thing at a time."

Draco fell over on his side and screamed bloody-suicide, since he couldn't scream murder due to having mutilated himself.

The owner of the parlor ran out and screamed as well at the sight before him.

"Don't stand there and scream also, you frickin' idiot!" Draco yelled at him. "Help me!"

"Why are you missing a leg?!" The owner screamed in a high-pitched frightened tone.

"Because I decided to cut it off, right here in front of your store! Dude, help me!"

"How did this happen?!" The man shrieked, his eyes so wide they seemed as though they were going to pop out his head.

"Gee, does that really matter at this moment?! I'm bleeding to death out here! Call a healer!" Draco shouted over the man.

"Why are you doing this?!" The guy hollered, hands on his cheeks as he continued to gape at the blonde.

"To earn money for charity! Now could you please take me to St. Mungo's before I die! Oh no, I'm starting to fade…!"

Needless to say, it was a full ten minutes before the man found the strength to summon a wizarding call to St. Mungo's. By then, Draco had lost half his body's blood and was lying in a red pool of it, splayed on the pavement at a weird angle. The healers scraped him and his cleanly severed foot off the ground and professionally Apparated themselves to the hospital.

"Can we save him, sir?" One nurse asked in surgery.

"Him yes…but this foot…I've never seen anything like it. I mean, I've wanted to study feet for forever, to better understand its molecular structure but I've never been able to find someone willing to donate me a foot. His is beautiful! Heal him as best as you can, but this foot…this foot stays with me."

The nurse stopped herself in the middle of casting a healing spell and turned to the chief healer of the operation. "Sir, this is that Malfoy boy. His parents are going to want to know why their son's foot is being kept by a guy with a foot fetish. And that alone isn't a legitimate excuse."

"Then we will tell them that it is going to further our knowledge in the infinite world of science!" The healer said excitedly. The nurse gave him a sardonic blink.

"Uh-huh. Yeah, they're really going to understand that."

The healer sighed and like a sulking child, he held out Draco's foot so it could be reattached.

Nearly thirty spells later, Draco laid in recovery, heavily sedated with potions that worked like anesthetics. His mother and father loomed over him, a worried expression on his mothers face, an unreadable one on his fathers.

"Could all the kings' horses and all the kings' men put me back together again?" Draco croaked out, his first words he'd spoken since the operation.

"Oh, my baby!" Narcissa cried out, hugging him hard.

"Don't make a spectacle dear," Lucius muttered, glancing around in the otherwise empty room.

"Oh, who cares if anyone sees me," Narcissa said and had begun to say something else but all Draco heard was his fathers' "I care," that he said back as a reply.

The door behind his parents opened and in walked Harry. "Oh my god, Draco, you really splinched yourself? Ha! I got it right the first time!"

"And my aim is gonna be right the first time as my fist hits your face if you don't shut up," Draco growled.

"Pfft! You couldn't fight your way out of a plastic bag! Wait, neither can I…I almost suffocated that last time! But you can't either!"

The door opened once again and in walked Hermione. "Hello Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. Harry sent me an owl post that Draco had been nearly mortally injured so I had to come see it for myself." For the most part, her voice was calm. Any animosity that she showed toward the family at school was being held at bay.

"Erm, hello…Miss Granger," Lucius said, following her closely with his eyes as she walked up to the bed. Now's the time! Hex her into next week and use her head as a bowling ball for my Thursday evening tournaments!

From within her robes, Hermione pulled something out.

She's going to give him a book, Harry thought. The guy is nearly on his deathbed, and she's going to make him read some stupid nonsense that won't be necessary because he'll be dead. Great thinking Hermione. Maybe he'll just die from how boring the book is.

Draco picked up on Harry's dread and began to worry as well. "Um, Granger, I'm fine. I don't need whatever it is that you're about to pull out. I mean, I know we've had our differences in the past and all and—please don't kill me!"

Hermione had pulled out her wand. She held in lightly in her hands, turning it around as though she'd never taken the time to examine it. "Six years…" she said quietly. "Six years I've put up with your racist bull. You calling me a mudblood and all…why shouldn't I Draco? Hm? Why shouldn't I just Stun you so badly that you'd end up in the psyche ward beside Neville's parents?"

"Because…please Granger, look in your heart and ask yourself…what would Dumbledore do?"

Hermione considered this for a moment, then raised her arm and was about to shout a spell until Harry launched himself at her and pulled her arm away from Draco.

"Don't do it Hermione!" He screamed. "Azkaban for women is much harder than for men! There's no make-up or tampons and you have to share a cell with a masculine woman named Bertha!"

This seemed to have the desired effect. With a loud sniff, Hermione spun around and marched out of the room.

"And you two just stood there watching!" Draco shouted at his parents. They had been rooted to the spot the whole time.

"Well, uh, see…brawns against brains never work!" Lucius reasoned. "She's the smartest witch of your year, what was I supposed to do?"

"Of my year!" Draco said. "What the hell about your year?! And you're older and trained in the Dark Arts! You mean to tell me that you're frightened of a seventeen year-old girl?! On no, father! Oh the humility!"

"You're one to talk about humiliating others," Narcissa whispered to herself, though Harry caught it and snickered.

Father and son did verbal battle back and forth, neither side really winning. Harry turned to his new step-mother and said, "Would you like to get some tea? While we're at it, we could get some autographs from Gilderoy Lockhart and auction them off on eBay."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Narcissa said, rubbing her temples as they left. "Let's get some of his hair, too. I one time got a snip of Justin Timberlake's hair…it sold for over a billion dollars, thus is how we got the mansion we live in now."

Harry shook his head. I guess adults are no better than teenagers sometimes, he thought. But maybe I can dig up Anna Nicole's remains…I wonder how far that'll go on the market?