The Magical tale of the Mischievous Malfoys

Disclaimer: Don't own this stuff. Blargh. I really think I might stop putting these at the top.

PenPal13: Muchos Gracias! I love Milfoils, too. I even made a screenname about it. Milfoil Madness. Go ahead and IM me if you want.

Mrs. Radcliffe 13: Well… that's a good question. One of the many answers is, that in my story, he has not yet "Come out of the closet." OR HAS HE! Perhaps he escaped in the night, there's no knowing these things with Harry Potter. (Seriously, though, I really just WISH he was in my closet. I'd be really really really really (x 1,000,000) happy if he was there.

Dance to the RANDOMNESS: Cookies are good… But is that what they will do!

Megan: That eyebrow wiggle worried me a little bit too, when I wrote about it. We'll see.

Ridikulus3000: Thank you much! I added some!

Countessvorkosigan: Oh yes, very much so!

Miss Sunkist: Thanks so much! Megan is the BEST!

Chapter Ten (WOW Can you believe I made it this far…?): Wonders and Wandering!

"Oh! My! God!" Harry gushed to his best friend. "Like… what do you think we'll do tomorrow? Ohmygosh I can't believe I have a date with Draco Malfoy! I must be the luckiest witch… er… wizard in the school!"

Hermione looked at him blankly. "Frankly, Harry, I don't know whether to laugh or cry," she said. (And this, of course, cured her from her previous ailment of crying when she was happy and laughing when she was sad. Sorry people, she's just… not a major character in this fic. If you protest, I'll have someone jinx her again…)

"Well, laugh, because I have a date with the smexiest- I mean… most well known…" Harry trailed off, his eyes glazing over at the dreaminess of it all.

"Harry, is there something you're not telling us?" Hermione asked.

Harry snapping back into reality, retorted, "Of course not, Hermy-Pants, Malfoy is just teaching me how to dye my hair. Or perhaps… bake some cookies…" He said this last part very quietly to himself. "He can bake my cookies any day, that Malfoy can…" he continued.

"Anyways, Lady Bushy Hair, I must be off to, erm… get ready… to… um… go… on my date… erm… scratch that… to… see Malfoy!" He dashed up the stairs to change his clothes and apply Green Apple body spray- I MEAN… very-manly cologne.

At the very moment Harry darted up the stairs, Ronye paraded in. "Yo, boo! You lookin' damn fine today, if I do step correct," he said.

"Yes Ron, I have no idea what you just said, but have you noticed anything odd about Harry lately?"

"Fo shizzle, boo! Eva' since I be hittin' him on tha head with this here pimp wand-cane, he's been a little whack," Ron continued.

Harry's mind had, in fact, been altered by Ron's "Pimp Wand Cane," for when Ronye administered that rap on the head, the old curse had lifted. However, when the old one lifted, a new one was put on… can you guess what it was? (LOL this reminds me of a documentary… or something)

"Yes, dearest Ronald, I believe you are right," Hermione stated. "However, as I cannot understand a word you're saying, I'm going to agree with whatever you say."

Ronye took the bling off from around his neck and put it on Hermione. "Boo, you got me straight trippin, yo," he said, and strutted off.

Hermione, taking this as a compliment, blushed and giggled.

A Few Minutes Later…

Harry was galloping down the hall toward the Room of Requirement. Thoughts were racing through his mind about what might happen with Malfoy. Would they play board games? Would they bake cookies? Would they really fix his hair? Slowing down, he wondered how many boys Malfoy had lured into this same trap. Sure, he was sexy. But was he sincere?

Harry stood before the wood of the door to the Room of Requirement before him. The clock struck 10, and he took a deep breath. He opened the door, and to his surprise, saw many boys sitting on pink cushions set up in a semi-circle around the point of focus. (We'll get to the point of focus in a few minutes.)

Many teenage boys sat, perched on these amorous cushions. (Yes, cushions can be amorous.) They sat, somewhere between befuddled and love struck, in a room that was be-sparkled with pink and bright green accents. There were various pictures of the youngest Malfoy on the walls, ranging from pink-and-green Picassos to some that looked vaguely like manga Draco flashing a peace sign. In all of the pictures, his head was topped with a sparkling, gleaming, white-blonde mop of hair.

Harry alighted a cushion and gazed around the room, at his fellow perchees. (AKA the guys on cushions.) Some of their hair was orange. Some of their hair was brown. Some of their hair was flame-colored, like Harry's. Some boys even had hair that was a rather greenish tinge, rather like old vomit.

It was obvious what Harry had just come across.

A hair-coloring class, complete with a table full of freshly baked cookies and lemonade in the corner.

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That's all! More to come uber-soon! Read! Review! Yay! And if you haven't been reading my disclaimer thingies at the beginning, it could have something to do with you, so go back and read them.