Summary: On a late night of sinister plotting against the forces of good, Draco wanders the halls after a bit of a falling-out with Pansy. Whoever will comfort the newly-single Slytherin? The question is: who won't?

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here. Even Forrest is a loan from the one and only NovaleeSims, who only said I could borrow him because I promised to mention her in the story. Since I just mentioned her, that kind of makes us even. But really, if I owned the Harry Potter franchise, would I be sitting here writing fan fiction? I think not! I would be sitting on a beach on my own private island, surrounded by a thousand plushies.

Authoress' Note: this just some crazy idea I had while plotting to make an alternate reality where there is no such thing as popcorn shrimp and expanded on while taking a shower. If that's too weird for you, or conversely not weird enough, I suggest you leave me a review and tell me about it. Because I'm just dying to know that you think. Really. Well, I hate to have to

cut the fun short

but the joke's wearing thin

let the reviewers in

let my fanfic begin!

Chapter 1

"Draco, talk to meee."

"No."

"But I'm bored!" Pansy whined, sashaying over to the table where Draco was poring over several sheaves of parchment with Crabbe, Goyle, and a very unobtrusive boy she was sure she'd seen before…somewhere.

"And you point is…" he drawled, moving one stack of parchment on top of another, then moving it back.

"C'mon, Draco, I don't have anything else to do…oh! I know! Let's make out!" Pansy brightly chirped, latching onto his arm.

"Pansy, I'm busy." He patiently stated, trying to reclaim his arm.

"Doing what?"

"Planning the doom of Potter, Dumbledore, the Ministry, and the forces of good as we know it." Draco distractedly replied as he tried to retrieve his arm from Pansy's grasp before it lost all feeling.

"…Can I help?"

"No."

"Why not?" Pansy pouted in an effort to look cute and needy, failing spectacularly, of course.

"Because it's dark, evil secret planning in the dead of night! I can't just tell anyone about the Secret Plot, because if I did, it would be neither secret, nor a plot!" Draco exploded at the pouting girl next to him, trying vainly to escape her vice-like grip on his arm.

"but I want to snog someone senseless!"

"Fine! You do that. When I'm done, you can tell me all about it. Now Goyle," he began, turning back to his table covered in detailed tactical drawings, blueprints, and tiny figurines, "if we-

"Draco! I'm serious!" she reprimanded, freeing his arm to put her hands on her hips in indignation.

Draco rolled his eyes. Will she never give up? "So am I" he ground out, forcibly scribbling on a blueprint of a large building.

"Do you have any idea how many boys would love to have me begging to neck with them? TONS! That's how many!"

"Fine, go visit with them while I finish plotting the doom of all that is good in the world."

"Alright then, I will!" Pansy exclaimed, storming over to the table Draco was working at with his minions and, with a well aimed jinx, sent its contents flying about the common room.

"Draco! The diagrams!" Forrest wailed as he wildly jumped in an attempt to re-capture the soaring sheaves of parchment.

"The diagrams! Pansy! That's weeks of elaborately drawn diagrams and intricate planning wasted just because you needed to satisfy your stampeding hormones!"

He turned and started furiously stalking towards the door when he noticed that Pansy was matching him, step for step. Stopping and staring coldly down at her, he sneered,

"Darling, I'm storming off. It doesn't work if you come with me."

"Well I could care less", Pansy sniffed, sticking her nose in the air and unintentionally giving Draco an excellent view up her left nostril, "I'm going to find someone else to do inappropriate things to if you won't cooperate." She finished, flouncing down the corridor.

"And don't you dare try and stop me!", she added, throwing what looked like a cross between a 'come hither' look and a death glare over her shoulder, "I'm serious!"

"I'm sure" Draco muttered under his breath. He rolled his eyes and headed for the seemingly solid wall that would lead him out of this breeding ground for insanity.

"I'm not joking Draco! There is absolutely nothing you could do to stop me from leaving right now and accosting random young men in the halls!" she continued, not moving from her post squarely in front of the exit.

"Don't get any ideas! You would have to tie me up and gag me to keep me here a minute longer!" Pansy kept ranting as Draco progressed toward the door, wondering if she planned on leaving, or was content to stand about raving all night.

Seeing that she intended to plant herself there until he took some sort of action, Draco promptly grabbed Pansy around the waist and hefted her onto his shoulder.

"Ooh, Draco! Be gentle." Pansy cooed, re-adjusting herself on his shoulder by means of a rather ridiculous shimmying maneuver. Draco just sighed deeply and walked out of the common room, annoying psuedo-girlfriend and all.

Abruptly dropping her on the dungeon floor, Draco turned towards the Kitchen, only to run directly into Peeves, who was spreading a fresh coat of grease onto the already slick dungeon floor.

"Ooh! What do we have here!" he cackled gleefully, "Did little Malfoy and the misses have a lover's spat!"

"Shut up Peeves! We're not lovers! We're not even really girlfriend and boyfriend, we just- wait, why am I telling you this?" He sneered. Peeve's only response was another evil cackle as he burst into a rather bawdy song featuring Draco and Pansy that the Authoress cannot post the lyrics to, due to therather prudish ratings policy here at fanfiction.

"Can it Peeves, or I tell Filch exactly what you did to his cat while he was fumigating the Charms corridor last semester. In great detail." Draco snapped with a rather attractive evil gleam in his eye.

"The little Malfoy wouldn't help Filchie by betraying me, now would he?" Peeves countered, flipping upside down in the air.

"Peeves, I'm evil. Check the pedigree." He reminded the poltergeist with a sinister grin, pointing to the Malfoy crest on the pocket of his green and black pajamas.

This caused Peeves to quickly zoom off in hopes of being able to change around the labels of Snape's potions bottles before he came back from his nightly sweep of the castle.

Frustrated now, and more than a little hungry, Draco continued on his course toward the Kitchens. If all went well he could get a scone, something to drink, and make it back to the common room for a bit more evil plotting before bed.

But that was not to be the case…

So what do you think? Love? Hate? Wish I would swear never to venture into works of fiction again because my writing is just that bad? Then tell me! Review! Seriously, I'll love you, and if you're nice (or spectacularly mean) I might just do review responses for the next chapter. Assuming I ever get off my arse and write it.