Over One Billion Served

a.k.a. What Draco Does When He's Bored

Draco had been bored, as Draco often was when there was no one to torment. His mother was off at some wife of a Death Eater's house for tea, and his father was off killing random innocents. It was a normal Monday morning during the summer holidays.

To lessen his boredom, he'd assaulted a house elf, (Tinky Winky, who wore a purple tea towel and often danced down hallways instead of walking regularly - something that caused Lucius to growl his disaproval) played a game of Gobstones against his mirror image (who, by the way, was looking rather hot at the time) and then found he'd run out of things to do. And it had only been ten o'clock in the morning.

He noticed the Daily Prophet sitting in the den and, as a last resort, decided to read it. The lead story was actually a very short list; it was the first time something of the sort had ever been published, which is why Draco became slightly confused.

The list was entitled Most Likely To Kill Lord Thingy and it was compiled by Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic. The short list had only one item; Harry Potter was in bold faced print in the number one slot.

Thus, Draco had found a piece of parchment and a quill and situated himself on his porch; the only answer to his holiday boredom was to make a list of his very own. It would be something he could send into the Prophet, maybe, but it was more just for his own vindication than anything else.

The problem came when Draco tried to figure out what kind of list to write. He went through several ideas whilst looking thoroughly perplexed (and hotly so, naturally). When none came, he decided to gaze down the sloping lawns of his manner, his eyes going in and out of focus once in a while. Girls were passing the gate in groups of three; they giggled at him, fanned themselves, and swooned, but he paid them little attention. After all, it was merely Pansy Parkinson and some of her giggling goons, and that didn't thrill Draco at all.

At long last, and after careful deliberation, Draco had put a heading on his piece of parchment.

Enemies of Draco Malfoy was written in his perfect scrawl across the top of the paper. He began a numbered list, numbering 1 to 657 without pausing.

Unsurprisingly, item one was bestowed upon Harry 'Scarhead' Potter. In Draco's opinion, this was the only time Potter should be number one of anything.

Items two and three were given to Hermione 'Mudblood' Granger and Ron 'Weasel' Weasley, who happened to be the remaining members of the Gryffindor Wonder Trio.

As Draco was pondering a better nickname for Weasley, he got a brilliant idea. Brilliant ideas come to Draco Malfoy about four times a day, so he didn't jump up and down for joy or anything like that.

Okay, there may have been a celebration dance involved, but Draco refused to acknowledge that…even when Pansy hollered up at him; she was yelling something about 'hot stuff' and before Draco could figure out what she meant, she'd disappeared down the street with her gaggle of girls.

His brilliant idea, which he'd almost forgotten about in all the dancing commotion, was to call his house elf and ask for some advice.

Except he wouldn't call it advice, of course, because a Malfoy cannot ask a mere elf for advice.

"Tinky Winky!" Draco bellowed in his normal bored tone; he set his parchment down in front of him and waited patiently until he heard the tell-tale pitter pattering of Tinky Winky's approach.

"Yes, master Draco?" The elf seemed to be out of breath, and why he didn't just Apparate to Draco's side instantly, Draco didn't know. Tinky Winky was a few sugar quills short of a sweet shop, anyway.

Draco looked down upon the elf, disdain clearly written all over his face. Even at fifteen, Draco had the 'I loath you with all of my being' look down. This was due to the classes he'd taken since he was five. How To Be An Evil Something-Or-Other had been a class his father insisted he take several times over, and Draco had enjoyed every minute of it.

"Who are my enemies?" Draco asked, examining his perfectly manicured fingernails.

Tinky Winky didn't respond right away; he stared at Draco, fingering the fringe of his purple tea towel and wondering if this was a trick question that was apt to get him a kick in the arse.

While Draco waited, he pondered sending an owl to Crabbe or Goyle and asking them the same question; they were sure to respond with a bunch of carefully placed grunts (spelled incorrectly, of course) that would be of no help to Draco whatsoever. However, at the present moment, it seemed his best bet.

He was about to dismiss the elf, when Tinky Winky spoke up, his high-pitched voice shaking slightly.

"Master Draco, sir, yous is not knowing your enemies, sir?"

Draco blinked. This was a fair question, actually. Had it finally come to a time when Draco couldn't clearly see his enemies?

When he didn't answer right away, and had that faraway look in his eyes, the elf pressed on.

Jumping (or maybe it was some sort of dance move) on every other word, Tinky Winky squeaked, "Master Draco's enemies are Harry Potter, o' course! Also, all Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, but especially Gryffindors. And anyone else who stands in Master Draco's way." Tinky Winky finished his speech with a bow that caused his unnaturally long nose to touch the porch.

Draco nodded, waved a hand of dismissal and waited until Tinky Winky had pranced back inside before dipping his quill into some lucid green ink and continuing his list.

Once he came to item 108, (Elvis Presley) Draco wondered if he ought to just condense the list into categories instead of single individuals. It was getting awfully time constraining, and his wrist hurt quite badly. Turning the parchment over, he began a new list. Harry remained item number one, but after that Draco simply itemized All Hufflepuffs, All Ravenclaws, All Gryffindors (most especially Harry Potter; see #1), All Muggle Singers, All Muggle Movie Stars, All Muggles, etc.

After three hours of itemizing everyone Draco had ever had an angry thought about, he thought it might be better worth his time to make a list of people he DIDN'T hate.

He was about to start on this list when his father materialized just inside the house and bellowed his name six times in a row without taking any sort of breath.

"DRACO!" He yelled one last time, moving towards the staircase. "If I have to come up the stairs and get you, I'll take away all your Avada Kedavra privileges for two weeks!"

Draco quickly ran inside the house, the list clutched in his hands.

He'd have gotten there sooner, but he tripped over the threshold of the front door and nearly collided with his father as he tried to right himself.

"Please don't take my Avada Kedavra privileges away, father!" Draco shoved his list into his pocket and stood up, looking up at his father with a groveling look on his face.

"Don't snivel, Draco," his father responded sneeringly (his father had also taken the How To Be An Evil Something-Or-Other class at an early age). "You may keep your AK privileges if you tell me that you've done something evil today."

Draco thought for a moment, his heart racing. He wasn't sure what constituted evil, despite the class. He'd had lots of angry thoughts that mostly involved cursing Harry Potter, but other than that, it had been a rather slow, dull, sans evil day.

Throwing all caution to the wind, Draco said the only thing he could think of. "I made a list!"

"A list?" His father's lip curled as he pulled his cloak off and threw it at the three or four awaiting house elves. "Does it bite people who try to read it? Because, honestly, how evil can a list be?"

"It's a list of who I'm going to kill!" This was, of course, not strictly true, but was the best he could do on such short notice, and under such horrific conditions. "It's called Enemies of Draco Malfoy."

"You made a hit list?" Lucius seemed intrigued as he went into the parlor and sat behind a large mahogany desk.

Draco hurried to follow him. "It started out as a list of enemies," Draco explained carefully, aware that he could get a stint in the dungeons if he said the wrong thing. "But now I think I'll just kill everyone on it."

"Let me see it," Lucius stated, his voice holding a tinge of annoyance and hostility. Draco didn't care, though, as it must have been a hard day, killing all those innocents.

Draco handed the parchment across the desk and sat down in a hard backed leather chair in front of the desk.

His father's eyes darted to and fro on the paper and finally looked up at Draco. "I didn't know you were enemies with Elvis Presley." His voice was stoic, but Draco cringed as if he'd yelled. He had momentarily forgotten that the King was on there.

"Well, he's a Muggle," Draco explained hurriedly. "And, as you know, Father, I hate all Muggles---"

Lucius nodded. "Rightly so."

"I realize some allowances can be made, however, so I might scratch that one out."

"Of course allowances can be made," Lucius agreed, laying the parchment aside and looking at his son. "However, Elvis Presley is dead, so I don't think you'll need to kill him."

"Oh." Draco thought for a moment. "Hmm. Well, maybe it's just a People I Hate list. Notice Potter's number one."

"As he should be," Lucius approved. "Now, run along. I've got paperwork to do on all those people I Avada Kedavra'd today."

Draco nodded and jumped from his chair; before he'd had the chance to leave the room, his father called him back.

"By the way, Draco, did my t-shirt order come in today?"

"No, Father. There was no post."

"Damn-bloody-damn. I was expecting to hand them out at Death Eater Appreciation night tonight." He shrugged carelessly. "Oh, well. I'll just kill whoever I ordered them from."

"Can I have one when they arrive?"

"But of course. I should hope you'd want to show your support of our very important cause." He paused, surveying Draco cautiously. "They say how many times I've Avada Kedavra'd. Like that Muggle food place, McDonalds. 'Over 1 Billion Served.' The shirts say 'I've Avada Kedavra'd Six Million Times Today'. Naturally, the number changes depending on how many times I've actually used AK."

"That's brilliant," Draco breathed appreciatively. "Is there an image of a big M on it?"

"Of course not, you silly boy. On the back are the letters AK in dark blood red and on the front is the Death Eater signal. Surely you know what that looks like, or have you learned nothing at that good for nothing school of yours?"

Draco didn't bother telling his father that he'd learned the signal by peering in on secret Voldemort meetings, and not at the good for nothing school he attended. "No, I know what you mean."

"Good," Lucius said dismissively. "Run along now. Go kick the house elves, or something."

Draco hastened to obey, wondering as he did so if he should make another list. As Tinky Winky flew across the room several minutes later, Draco was compiling a list in his head. Its title? People Who Are Hot AND EVIL Simultaneously.

Item number one was not Harry Potter like all the other lists floating about the wizarding world; it was Draco Malfoy. As were items two through seven hundred and sixty-two.

And item number seven hundred and sixty-three.