Disclaimer: I own everything. Right. As if. Actually only the plot.
A/N: A whole new story. Created out of my boredom. Ok fine. I've been playing with this idea for some time, and hence, this little baby was born. I hope to see this fic through till the last chapter. Well, am I boring you? I hope not. Read on! Reviews will be appreciated. Lots. *HINT HINT*
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Of Draco and Shagging*~*~*~
Draco Malfoy was on the prowl.
As he stalked past a trembling Hufflepuff first-year, he snarled, showing a set of perfect, white teeth. Nonetheless, despite the lovely set of teeth he possessed, the Hufflepuff failed to be impressed. Rather, the first-year squeaked and backed up against the wall.
Draco rolled his eyes and sloped past. He had left Crabbe and Goyle back in the Great Hall, where they were too busy stuffing their faces full of cream puffs to "guard" him on his quest.
Draco Malfoy wanted to get laid. Heck, he was sixteen, a virile teenager with boundless energy and a vivid imagination, to say the least. He was SIXTEEN. And still a virgin. Or a "poncy mama's boy", as Blaise Zabini, one of his closest friends, claimed. He scowled to himself at the memory, calming himself with the thought that Blaise most probably did not wish to lose another two molar teeth.
Draco remembered lamenting despondently to Blaise, "Why is it that, no girl is willing to offer herself to satisfy my deepest darkest desires? Why is it that I am the only guy in this whole forsaken school that is still a virgin?"
He threw himself onto a green couch in the Slytherin common room, flinging an arm dramatically over his eyes.
Blaise looked up, over the top of "Everything Evil You Need To Know About Evil", "That's because you are one heck of a poncy mama's boy. And don't exaggerate. I highly doubt the ickle first-years have even had their first kiss, much less been laid."
Draco sat up straight immediately, a scowl contorting his perfect visage. He was so not a "poncy mama's boy". It irked him even more, to see Blaise smirking to himself. "Take that back Zabini. Or suffer my wrath."
Blaise looked up again, his smirk this time edged with annoyance. "Malfoy, I'll have you know this is an extremely interesting book - he gestured to the book - so please bugger off. Or at least till I've finished this book, you poncy git." He returned to his fascinating tome.
That was it. The last straw. He stood up, snarling, curling back a fist. Zabini never knew what hit him.
But seriously, it was mortifying. Mortifying to know that even freckled, gangly, plain, ugly Weasley (the male one that is) had done it. Mortifying to hear Potty and Weasel discuss the topic of best shags during Potions.
Potter had whispered conspiratorially, "So, be truthful. Who was the best shag you've ever had?"
Weasley had smirked, rather scarily, whispering back in an equally gossipy tone. "Padma Patil."
Draco's jaw hit the floor. Patil? She was one of the prettiest girls in the whole school. so how exactly did Weasley get to well. do IT with her?
Just then, to Draco's extreme shock, Weasley had smirked even wider and proclaimed, "Nah, just joking. She was rubbish. I think Parvati was better." Draco's eyeballs popped out.
Just then, much to Draco's chagrin, Weasley had turned around in his seat, and sneered, "So Malfoy, enlighten us. Who was your best shag?"
Extremely put-off by this sudden turn of events, Draco had attempted to recover his composure (that was, to close his mouth and pop his eyes back in). On the spur of the moment, since there was absolutely no way he was going to admit to Weasley that he had his big V, he had sputtered, "Weasley."
He quickly amended, lest Weasley decided to slug him, "The female one. You know? Your sister?"
Weasley's face had contorted into a scowl seething with rage, but inexplicably, he calmed down, before leering, "You're lying Malfoy. You're still a virgin aren't you."
It wasn't a question. They knew.
Embarrassing. It was absolutely, totally humiliating. Thank goodness the bell had rung just then, allowing Draco to make his hasty escape, after forcing out, with as much contempt as he could muster at that moment of utter shame, "What makes you think that Weasel?" Then he ran, for his dignity.
But back to the point, he was the handsomest, ok fine, one of the handsomest, males in the whole school. Dang Scar-head. A head of fine blonde-white hair that any female in their right mind would want to run their hands through, aristocratic features, and a toned body. Heck, to him, he was the most gorgeous male alive. He always thought that, if he was a girl, he would shag himself silly. But then again, he wasn't.
However, Draco was most affronted to discover that unlike his arch-nemesis Harry Potter (fine, and his sidekick, Ron Weasley), he did not have rabid females clutching at his robes, begging him to do whatever he wished with them, pleading him to have his wicked way with them.
In fact, he realised that no female willingly came within five feet of him without being armed with some potentially dangerous items, Such as the time that Susan Bones had brandished as casually as possible whilst glaring wrathfully at him, a walking stick (he suspected she had nicked it from Mcgonagall).
Then again, in his private dictionary, female was a term that was exclusive of pug-faced Pansy Parkinson.
He shuddered as he remembered how Pansy had literally thrown herself onto him last night during dinner. It was the worst experience of his life, inclusive of the scene when he personally witnessed Dementors giving the "kiss" to his father.
Pansy flung her arms around him, plopping her ample rear on his lap (he winced), and he averted his eyes in a desperate attempt to preserve his sanity and reputation. He had an image to keep up for Merlin's sake! Ignoring Pansy's simpering remarks, he had attempted to eat his dinner, before giving up, in the realisation that Pansy's limbs were hindering his movements. That girl was a bloody boa constrictor. Plus, she was slobbering all over his pumpkin pie.
Just then, he had glanced up at the Gryffindor table opposite, and was startled and annoyed to see the whole table laughing at his predicament. That was it. The last straw. He scowled, and stood up abruptly, dumping Pansy most unceremoniously on the floor, while yelling, "Will you get your slimy paws off me you filthy creature. I do not welcome getting mauled by the likes of you. So lay off!"
He ignored the fact that his hysterical voice had risen about two octaves in the last sentence, and he spun around, still scowling, and stomped angrily and loudly out of the great hall, ignoring Pansy's "But Dray-co!". A pretty impressive departure, by anyone's standards.
Nevertheless, the little temper display he demonstrated did nothing to soothe his battered ego (remember Potions). He still did not know why no girls approached him.
Just then, as he stalked the dungeons predatorily, a thought struck him. Perhaps, just maybe, probably, they expected him to make the first move! It was brilliant idea. Absolutely spiffing. Draco smirked to himself, as he quickly made out a plan. After all, girls could never be depended upon. Why was it that guys always had to make the first move? Tsk. He supposed it had something to do with shyness or manners or what not.
If Draco Malfoy wants something, Draco Malfoy will get it.
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References:
The conversation between Harry and Ron was inspired by the lovely movie Love, Actually. You know? The radio interview with Billy Mack, the rock-star looking to make a comeback? Yea. That scene.
The "big V" was taken from a random quote.
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A/N: So? How's it so far? Reviews and constructive criticism much appreciated. Oh yea. I forgot to say how much I love the title, and mucho thanks to Chryz for helping me out. Haha.