Pseudo Cinderella and the Slytherin Prince
Chapter 1 Perverted Challenges
Draco's POV
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters or anything in the books thought up by J.K.Rowling. The plot of this fan fiction belongs to myself and Shimby Kori, who I originally shared this story with. The first half of this chapter belongs to her. PLEASE DON'T SUE ME! I'M NOT DOING ANYTHING WRONG! yeah... stating this all now.
This is one of my favorite chapters, so I hope you like. Shimby wrote this one, I edited. ENJOY!
I remember that night so clearly. Really, it's like I accidentally made a movie in my head of it. I was standing in my room, dressed up in the costume my mother wanted me to wear for the Zabini's End of Summer Costume Ball. Really, I'm 17 years old I think I can pick out my own outfits, but no she insists I be the same thing any time there is dressing up involved. I rolled my eyes at the reflection. I'm a vampire again. Really the joke got old when I turned about 5 but she really doesn't see that … sometimes I wonder why father even looked at her much less married her.
"Draco, darling, are you ready yet?" her voice floated from the other side of the heavy oak door to my room, I gave a deep sigh and let her in.
"Yes mother I'm ready" I mutter giving her the quick peck on the cheek like I have been trained to do. Sometimes it's like I don't really have parents, but I'm only for show to make everyone believe we have a good happy home life. But whatever, I'm a Malfoy; this is how it always has been and always will be.
"Oh come now Drakie, you look like your being dragged to a funeral! Put on a happy face for your mother," she croned in my face. God she is such aditz. I mean come on; I grew out of the nickname years ago. And as for most of these parties they drag me off to, I would prefer a funeral.
To please her I put on a fake smile and she seems satisfied with that. As I followed her outside I cursed her back darkly, but I guess the evening won't be a total waste, Pansy will be there and she's always up for shag. As we walk down to the main entrance I take the time to notice what my mother is wearing...and she's dressed as a cat… really I think this gave me an excuse to roll my eyes once more. She's not handling growing old well and tries at every available opportunity to dress like a slut. She should act her own age, she is close to forty after all, and here she is dressed like some sort of college-aged sorority whore.
Father was waiting for us at the foot of the stairs; he takes mothers hand and kisses it lightly then turns to me.
"A vampire again son? Honestly, I never would have guessed." He sneers like it was my choice to wear this again. But in reality he's one to talk, dressed like a bastard. Oh wait he's not wearing a costume, that's just his normal robes, my mistake.
"Come along darlings, the house elf is waiting with the flu powder." My mother takes the arm my father offers her and I trail along behind. I'm not looking forward to this stupid party.
All right how long can this take? I mean really we only have about what 500 people we need to talk to, that can't take more then a few hours. I try to do the calculations in my head but I know it's worthless. We more then likely won't be home till tomorrow morning at the earliest. If there was going to be some new faces or people to meet that would be a different matter. But being in a room with nearly every girl you've ever slept with or dated and their brothers is never fun. Then of course there is Pansy, who, on second thought, I really can't deal with tonight. She's such a leech it's not even funny. All she ever wants to do is snog or shag or hang off me. I mean have you ever seen her? Turning her into a frog or maybe even a hairless mole rat would be a huge improvement over what she normally looks like. But whatever I'm expected to marry her, not that I really hate looking at her fat face; she's actually sort of pretty. She just hides it with all that make-up.But … well I guess that's why my father married my mother, he was expected to. But I'm not him now, am I?I'm not going to just fall in line and do what they want me to!
"Draco would you go already! Your mother and I are waiting" I here his sneer and sigh. For right now guess I have to do what they tell me to, but mark my words it won't be forever.
I take a pinch of the floo powder from the elaborate silver and green urn and step towards the fireplace. "Zabini Manor," I direly state and close my eyes against the soot I know will follow.
I don't open them again until I feel myself slowing down and prepare for landing in the fire place of my very best friend, Blaise. "Yo Malfoy! Wasup!" I hear Blaise greet me and I roll my eyes. Since last year when he heard some mudblood Hufflepuff trying to be someone named after muggle money making what he called "music." Since then, he's been trying to explain to me why being "ghetto" as he calls it, is the only way to live. Honestly, I don't see how any self-respecting pureblood can let himself be consumed in such muggle culture. Especially when he's a pale, rich little white boy trying to be black. But whatever floats his boat right?
"Hello, Zabini," If we're going by a last-name basis.
"Right on time, homie. The best girls are just starting to arrive." Right. "U-unless, you know, you're going to wait for Pansy. Anyway, the bedrooms on the third floor are all reserved for you, mate. Just take your pick. And I don't me of the rooms, wink wink eh?" Aw, great. My best friend's pimping me out.
"Well what do you think; should I do a repeat of last year or should I save you some girls, Blaise?" I give him the famous Malfoy smirk and then matches me back look for look.
"I think you have your facts mixed up, Draco, mate. I seem to remember having more action then you," he raises one eyebrow and he breaks in to a real grin
"Why, Blaise, I think I detect a challenge." I put on my signature smirk at this point, knowing what's to come.
"Damn straight, mate. And the winner is whoever can nail-"Blaise is cut off, as both of us direct our attention to the main entrance of the ball room, which is at the top of a flowing staircase.Abit stereotypical, don't you think? But there she is; a mysterious beauty in a shimmery, blue-ish silver flowing ball gown. Her gorgeous honey-brown hair is piled on top of her head in ringlets, but a stunning Renaissance mask hides her face. Blaise and I look at each other like two 17 year old boys who just got the same perverted idea at the same time. Slow smiles spread across both our faces as we say at the same time: "-That one."