Thanks to my sole reviewer Neverrmind x. And to answer your question…all in due time.
"That insufferable git of a woman!" Draco yelled as he ripped the parchment to shreds. "How can I, Draco Malfoy, benefactor of the Malfoy fortune, lower myself to muggle commodities? It's simply unheard of! If my ancestors could leap out from their portraits there would certainly be a lynching involving a certain do-gooder witch," he berated at the rather frightened owl. His features seemed to say 'Don't shoot the messenger'. Draco reached into the pocket of his double breasted jacked beneath him wizard robes and retrieved some treats which seemed to appease the owl.
Rubbing his temples, he strode to his study and reached for the tumbler containing his favorite Courvoisier liqueur. Pouring a greedy amount into his cognac glass, he swirled it around before inhaling the liquid contained inside. Ms. Granger had always made his blood boil and today was no different. That woman knew how to send him over the edge with fury and it annoyed him how she always came out completely unscathed. His clutch on the glass became too forceful and an awful crunch noise echoed in the room. Unclenching his fist slowly, he saw a deep cut in his palm. As the blood continued to trickle down the side of his hand, he once again reached into his breast pocket procuring a scarlet handkerchief which he used to nurse his wound. He conjured up his wand and muttered an incantation under his breath to repair the broken glass. He hated shopping for new glassware and if Ms. Granger continued with her ways, it certainly would not be the last time this happened. Running a hand through his sleeked beach blonde hair and an idea suddenly came to him. His hair seemed to be the source of all his power. Soft and thick, it was the epitome of perfection. He was aware that Ms. Granger was currently seeing the Weasel King. It was rumored that she was so infatuated that she was often caught by many co-workers in compromising situations with him. "This ingenious plot of mine just might work," he thought as his might wandered to the label of the flasks filled with potions he kept in his study for emergencies. He was almost certain that he had some Polyjuice potion stored in there somewhere.
Just as he suspected, there nestled between the Felix Felicis and the Sleeping Draught was a flask of freshly brewed Polyjuice potion. "If I manage to get hold of some of Weasels' hair, I can put it in the potion and persuade Ms. Granger to revoke the house elf ban. Good thing I collect hair strands as a precaution. I should have a stack of Weasel's since he sheds like a dog. Even though I shudder at the thought of ingested that vile red hair, I'll do it just to put the little mud—Granger in her place."
Ever since he joined forces with Potter, his hatred towards non-purebloods ceased. He didn't know whether it was the fact that his father was locked up in Azkaban and no longer present to badger him with talks of his family duties that caused this change of heart but he wasn't about to proclaim it to the world that he wasn't the Grinch he used to be. He made anonymous contributions to various charities never wanting any recognition for his selfless acts for he knew the Daily Prophet would have a field day writing about how his 'generosity' was a good way of improving his company's image in the wizarding community, or his personal favorite, a desperate cry for media attention. So he tried to shy away from the spotlight but now that was becoming possible with this latest edition of Witch Weekly. Rita Skeeter wrote an article concerning his bachelor status and it was a regular occurrence for him to find a stack of letters submerged in his morning porridge from witches all across the country vying for the coveted title 'Draco Malfoy's Special Someone'. It's like they were contestants from the amazing race trying to get to the golden prize first. Well Draco Malfoy was not a prize to be won...