The Hardships of Being Draco Malfoy

Disclaimer: Don't own any of the characters originally penned by J K Rawlings, don't even own the computer this is being typed on. But a girl can wish can't she?

Pairings: Not yet but will be Draco/Harry eventually

Warnings: Whiny Draco ahead, not to mention some probable OOC-ness to be had by all. But what can I say, first time Harry Potter writer.

Authors note: Oh my gosh! I just posted the first part no more then 3 hours ago and I already have one review!

Fenolen-Thank you for reading! I am trying to write more! Hope you continue reading!

Part 2

"Now Draco," Narcissa Malfoy said patronizingly to her son who looked like he was about to throw a fit. "You know Mummy's trying to conserve money while Daddy's away. I'm afraid that we just can't get you a new broom."

Draco closed his eyes and counted backwards from ten to calm himself. It just simply wouldn't do to embarrass himself by arguing with his mother in the middle of Diagon Alley. It wasn't like he was some sort of spoiled first year. No he was a spoiled sixth year and by god he needed a new broom!

"But Mother, I am the Slytherin team's seeker. I need a fast broom to catch the snitch," Draco explained patiently as though speaking to a child. "Unfortunately I no longer have my Nimbus broom, as sometime during the past few weeks, that damned cat, that you insisted be shut up in the house, found my broom and literally ripped out all of the bristles." Narcissa opened her mouth to say something, but Draco beat her to the punch. "And before you say anything about how I should take better care of my possessions, I will have you know that my broom was properly stored in the broom shed on the western corner of our property. It was on a specially designed shelf that was floating two and a half meters off the floor and charmed with a mobility spell I found in my favorite rare spell book, which, if you remember, was also later destroyed. The only way anyone could have gotten close to that shelf and consequently the broom on it would be if they knew the specific command to say and had me there to say it. Now let me also remind you that the entire summer, that spawn of satin cat, was locked up in the Manor, yet she still managed to get out, maul my broom, leave tufts of gray and black fur laying around, so I would know it was her that committed the crime, and then snuck back into the house. So therefore I need a new broom."

Draco looked at his mother expectantly, to anyone else this explanation would have been more then sufficient, and a new broom, even if it was the same model that he had before, would be purchased. Still this was his mother they were talking about, and he just knew that she was going to argue with him.

"I am sure that your father's old broom will work just fine, after all he rode it when he played for the House Quidditch team."

"Mum!" Draco nearly yelled, scandalized by the mere thought of being seen in public on his dad's old broom. He would never live the humiliation down, it was amazing that the ancient thing was still able to get off the ground, never mind flying anywhere with someone mounted on it. "That broom could be outclassed by the Cleansweeps that the school provides the first years to learn with! I may as well just quit the team as be seen on dad's or one of the school's brooms."

Narcissa looked coolly at her son's outraged expression and nearly flushed face, he was still trying valiantly to keep his temper in check. "Perhaps you should dear. Quit Quidditch that is," she said with a sad smile on her face, as she watched all color drain from her son's face. "I know that you love playing the game and all, but I want you to spend more time on your school work this year. After all, with the unfortunate occurrence that happened to your father," Narcissa trailed off briefly, looking sad and distant. Draco would have said something at this point if he had been able to overcome his shock. She wasn't supposed to agree with him on stuff like this. She was supposed to give in and go buy him a new broom! But to his horror he could only gape at his mother, his eyes fixed on her face. He actually thought that she might manage to squeeze a tear out for her absent husband, but failing that she continued on with her 'little talk' to her son. "Draco I am only thinking of what is best for you, I want you to be able to get a good job after you graduate."

Draco thought that he was going to have an aneurisms with how hard his head was throbbing, he had never wanted to strangle someone so badly in his life, not even Potter had ever warranted this much rage. But it wouldn't do to be seen strangling, hitting or otherwise, being mean to family members that had as of yet to be shunned or disowned. No he could control himself. He took a deep breath, clenched his fists at his side, and squared his shoulders, then he glared at his mother for all he was worth.

"Okay Mother," he said in a controlled voice, "please explain something to me. Why it is that suddenly the Malfoy family, who has more galleons in their Gringotts vault then the total number of red hairs on every Weasley currently living today put together." At the mention of one of his school nemesis' family Draco made a nauseated face, briefly loosing track of his thoughts before starting up again. "Now please tell me Mother dear, how is it that we are suddenly seemingly without a knut to our name, when it comes to basics like new cloths and a new broom for Quidditch?"

Narcissa Malfoy looked at her son, her face expressionless, as she began to speak. "I don't believe that we should be discussing this now, Draco. If you would still like to talk later at home we shall, but for now we will finish shopping for your School necessities and you will not say another word about it, or you will not be getting dinner for the next week." Narcissa turned and started walking towards Flourish and Blotts.

"I was just asking a simple question!" Draco fumed at his mother. "I'm an adult now and I deserve some explanations about what is going on!" To accentuate his words Draco stamped his foot on the ground hard enough to send jolts of pain up his leg, causing him to wince slightly, as he leaned over slightly to rub at his shin.

"Draco Malfoy!" Narcissa said spinning on her heals to face her son, almost sending him tumbling over in surprise. "I don't want to hear another word from you until we get home," she hissed at him angrily, her composure clearly gone. "I am going to go and purchase your books for school, I want you to stand right there while I am inside," she said as she pointed to the stone wall of the apothecary across the street from the bookstore. "And if I find that you have moved from that spot while I was gone, you will wish you were staying with your father, rather then at the manor by the end of the summer." Having said that she turned and marched inside Flourish and Blotts.

Draco scowled at his mother's back, then he scowled at the people passing him by with out even noticing him, and then he scowled at those who were glancing at him. Finally he hunched his shoulders and made his way over to 'his spot' on the apothecary wall. He grumpily threw himself against the wall, grimacing as his back met the stone, before sliding down to a sitting position with his knees pulled up to his chest.

He could see his mother through the large picture window of the store. She was standing next to Pansy Parkinson's mother, he could never remember the daft woman's name, something flowery he thought, like Daisy, Petunia, or maybe it was Tulip. His Mum was laughing at something that had been said. Draco sighed distractedly as he crossed his arms over his knees before resting his chin on his arms. Mum was being so mean to him, it wasn't like he had done anything wrong.

The bell above Flourish and Blotts door jingled merrily as another person entered the store, and for a moment Draco could clearly hear his mothers silvery laughter, which caused him to frown unhappily. His butt was going to fall asleep before she managed to pry herself away from the store, and it was all her fault.

Stupid Mother.