Author Notes: After realising that I had forgotten to grammar/spell check chapter two, I took down this chapter and fixed it. So here it is.

Disclaimer: Unless otherwise noted at some point or another, this disclaimer will be the disclaimer for the rest of the story. Also, this disclaimer is the disclaimer from

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. TWEEP! Plop.

"Ow!" Draco found himself, once again, on the ground. He was hopping his merry little way back to Malfoy Mansion when a rabbit ran out into the road, and Draco fell over. The rabbit squeaked, and then ran off. The selfish rabbit didn't even check to see if he was okay.

He got himself up, and picked up both the pogo stick and the bottle of gel. He looked around, in case there were any other stray rabbits running loose, which could be the demise of his skin. In other words, he could bleed very much badly if the rabbits knocked him over again. He didn't really want that, especially with his father's dinner party so close.

The dinner party!

"Oh, no!" Draco yelled, as he began hopping again.

He had successfully gotten away from the crazy old lady who wanted to turn him into the pops, but thanks to himself, while he was caught up in the moment, he ripped his shirt, so was now shirtless, hopping on a pogo stick, half naked. He was surprised that nobody else had come out, threatening to call the stokeys... or, whatever they were called. He didn't have time to study stupid muggle stuff.

He hopped. The road was growing longer, and the sky was growing darker. Or maybe he was just high. He wasn't sure, maybe that crazy old cashier had really affected him was some sort of crazy poison. She was a muggle, so he may never know, but he did suspect it. Why else would he be high? It couldn't possibly be the hair gel, could it? Maybe it was the rabbit.

Yes, it was the rabbit.

He continued down the road, looking for a sign of Malfoy Mansion, and not seeing it yet, he thought he might think.

But what could he think about? He didn't know anything that was of any interest to him, so he now had to think about what he would think about. This was much more difficult than it sounded, mind you.

Hmm. Maybe he would think about how mad his father would be when he came home, all bloody from falling off of a pogo stick. Maybe the thought of knocking down those demonic statues in the front yard.

Or...

Maybe he could think about why stores were so obsessed with the idea of paper and plastic.

Yes! That was a brilliant think to think about!

So, why would a store ask if they wanted paper or plastic? It just wasn't logical! When you give somebody something from a store, you need to know him or her to an extent, so that way, you don't even need to ask them anything! You need to automatically know!

Bounce. Bounce.

So why would that crazy cashier ask? She should have just asked his preferences, and then worked from there. She had no right to ask. She was a worker, who got paid money to work. She wasn't getting paid for asking questions.

But then again, she was a muggle.

Now, Draco wasn't the smartest building block in the Tonka box, but he was pretty sure that he was right on this one. Any self-respecting cashier should just realise that they are inferior to the customer (or Draco, more like) and back down; they should just be the snivelling little kiss-ups and be done with it!

But, the paper and plastic issue did bother him a bit. What was the point? If they didn't ask preferences, then they should have just guessed and hoped they didn't get sacked! Sheesh, muggles were idiots.

Bounce. Bounce.

Finally, Draco could see Malfoy Mansion. Ooh... he just hoped that the "Dinner guests" weren't there yet.

Shuffle, shuffle. Push. Swing. Plip, plip, pliiiiiiip. Trip. Flop.

"Ow!" Draco whispered to himself. He didn't know why; since there wasn't anybody around him, there wasn't anybody to hear him, so therefore, nobody to come to his every need.

Not like they didn't already do that, he was just saying it for his dramatic need.

He had the hair gel in his hands, so he quickly slipped into the bathroom, and looked at himself. He said only two words once he saw himself: "Aaaah, dangit."

Draco knew that he looked worse than he was letting himself know, but decided against shaking in fear.

POOF! Smoke. Smoke was disappearing, slowly. A house elf was there, a finger pointing at him accusingly.

"Me thinks you naughty boy!" the house elf claimed. "Me thinks you need to be punished!"

Draco laughed.

"And what are you going to do?"

The house elf smiled evilly, before kicking him in the groin.

"Me knows you no do no-no no more. For this I am sure." And then the little brat disappeared.

"Crimedy!" Draco exclaimed, hopping up and down on his foot.

"Draco! Are you all right?"

Draco heard his mother call. He looked at the door in disbelievement; She hears him say 'crimedy' but doesn't hear a big poof of smoke?

"Oh, mother, I'm just lovely!" He called back to her.

"Oh, okay, Draco! Be down in five minutes!"
"Yes, yes I will!"

"You're such a good boy!"

Draco rolled his eyes.

"And by the way, Drakkie, I ordered pie!"

Draco's world stopped. "Pie?" he called down hopefully.

"Yes, baby, pie!"

"WE'RE HAVING PIE!"

"And don't forget to gel your hair! You know you look sexy when you do that!"

Draco decided to ignore the fact that his mother was saying that. Instead, he focused on his hair gel.

"My hair gel!"

He grabbed his bottle of hair gel, and ran back into his bathroom, trying to think of what he should do to his hair to make it have its sexy gelledness back to his.

Once efficiently in the loo, he looked at himself in the mirror.

Draco screamed.

"Argh! Help! There is a strange, ugly boy in my loo with ugly, ugly hair! House-Elf Shirley!" he shrieked, before falling to the floor, writhing.

In a matter of seconds, the same House-Elf who kicked him—uh—there— appeared.

"What is it, you naughty boy?" asked the House-Elf, a large box in her hands.

Draco pointed to the mirror.

"There! It's there! He's so ugly!" Draco sobbed in distress.

"Get up, you naughty boy!"

Draco complied.

House-Elf Shirley took one look at the mirror, and she then took another look at Draco.

"You naughty, naughty boy! You call me into your depressingly girlish room for this? I was feeding Moo-Moo!" Shirley then grabbed his collar and dragged him up, shoved him in front of the mirror, and laughed.

"YOU are the ugly boy with depressingly ugly hair!"

Draco was on the verge of hysterics. He was actually convulsing; his hand seemed to twitch more.

"It's not me... I know that it isn't me!" Draco whimpered, backing into a wall. "It can't be... it's so horrid... I can't... but why...?" Draco murmured to himself, before he did something that only happened on Draco-Looks-Bad days.

He screamed like the nut he was.

This seemed to only amuse Shirley farther, seeing as she started laughing maniacly. She brought her hands to her chest and started spazzing them like a hyena would.

Draco's parents though, Lucius and Narcissa, didn't seem to think that Draco screaming like a girl was something to laugh about; his appearance must have been really bad for him to scream like that.

The two parents in question came running into the room (their didn't seem to be a door to bang open,) looking wildly around. Clothes covered nearly every inch of the floor and bed, making the room look more like their broom closets (that not even the House-Elves went into) than anything else.

"Draco! Draco, what is it?" Narcissa screeched, searching frantically into little nooks such as the laundry basket and wardrobes and odd little bags that just seemed to be there.

"Narcissa," Lucius drawled, sounding bored. "I highly doubt that he is going to be in a Persian handbag."

"Well, he could be! You never know with Draco! And remember, Draco has good taste!"

Lucius nodded, agreeing. "Still, I don't think that he will be in a Persian handbag," he told her, waving his arms lazily toward the bag that Narcissa was going through.

"I'm in here!" Draco wailed, now on the floor.

"Draco, you sound like my Aunt Lui Lui—she always whined because her muffins were never shaped perfectly." This only caused Draco to cry louder.

"And she was never happy... Surely you can't be so ugly as too actually cry?" Lucius called to Draco.

"Come into the bathroom! I'm horrendous!"

"Oh, honey, surely it's not that bad?" asked Narcissa, pushing open the bathroom door.

Thud!

Narcissa had fainted.

Lucius wasn't doing much better; he had jumped back into the wall.

"Shit! Draco, don't do that again! I haven't gotten drunk yet, that isn't funny!"

Draco tried to say something, but his hollow breathing made his talk a simple jumble of sounds.

"Speak clearly to me, Draco!" Lucius demanded.

"It mumble mumble joke!"

"I know it's a joke! What I'm telling you is to take down the spell now!"

"It's not a spell!"

Lucius raised an eyebrow.

"But you're a Malfoy," he told Draco, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. "Malfoy's have better hair than that horror that is currently sitting on top of your bald head!"

Draco looked up.

"But I'm not bald! And this is my hair!" Draco said, getting up from his place on the floor.

Lucius smirked before coming forward towards Draco.

"Yes it is," he said simply, before he started pulling on Draco's hair.

Draco seemed.

Lucius jumped back into the wall again.

"Bless my heart-spotted knickers," Lucius whispered in horror. "It is real!"

Just then the doorbell sounded throughout the house.

"NO!" Lucius screamed, ran to the door, and screamed again.

"They're here!" Lucius said, in a tone that suggested that even the concept of "them" being there was horrible.

Lucius then got a clue.

"Aha!" Lucius triumphantly screamed. He ran over to the fireplace and grabbed a handful of Floo Powder.

"Draco, get in!" Lucius demanded.

"But... what about the party?"

"Screw the party, get in!"

"Fine!"

Draco walked over the fire, and received an impatient kick to the bum by his father.

Lucius then threw in the Floo powder.

"Hogwarts!"

The last thing that Draco saw before falling onto a cold hard stone floor was Shirley the House-Elf laughing her elephant ears off.

End Chapter 2.

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