The Magical tale of the Mischievous Malfoys
FINALLY, after about a year of absence… I have returned to the scene of the crime. I'm back, folks, and I'm not stoppin'.
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CherryIzzy: Glad to know you liked it, anyways. It's a little disturbing… I'm a little insane… it's all good.
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Everybody else who commented in my absence: …I love you guys.
Chapter Eleven: Dastardly Draconian Deeds
"Welcome to Master Malfoy's Hair Coloring Class for Hirsute Mishaps! Take a seat on any cushion! Make yourself at home! Have some home-made cookies!" a sparklingly blonde boy said from the front of the classroom.
Harry gaped at the
scene around him. He thought he would be having a romantic interlude!
Not a mass-migration of boys with oddly colored hair!
Unfortunately, the only cushion left unoccupied was the one
directly to the right of Malfoy. The masterful Mister Malfoy had
planned this quite sneakily. He knew Harry well enough to presuppose
that he'd be late, so he placed a small pink "Reserved" sign on
this very cushion.
Since Harry had no idea of this, however, he simply plopped himself down cross-legged on the empty cushion, rested his elbows on his knees, his head on his hands, and began to gaze fondly at the squeaking blonde boy at the front of the room.
Another thing that the bespectacled boy did not know was that he was sitting in Dearest Draco's chosen "Volunteer" seat. This meant that poor, dear, unsuspecting Harold would be the subject of demonstration.
With a wave of his wand and a flash of pinky-mauve light, a table of mysterious hair-altering chemicals appeared in front of Draco.
"Now!" he squeaked. Holding up a bottle of regular old muggle bathroom bleach, he asked, "Who knows what this melodious substance is?"
"MELODIOUS! THAT'S CLOROX!" Harry interrupted. "I spent half my life up to my elbows in that crap, cleaning up after you barbarians, and you want me to put it on my head!" he fumed effeminately.
"Ah ah ah, dearest Harry-boy," Draco teased. "This isn't your stinking muggle aunt's bathroom cleaner."
He took out a small eyedropper-type instrument, and with it, squirted a few drops onto Harry's head. With a heavenly "Aaaaaaaa" like a chorus of cherubs, Harry's whole head glowed, then rapidly turned to a striking violet-purple color.
Watching Harry gape at his reflection in a nearby mirror, Draco began to speak. "It's not just any random chemical you throw on your hair! It's my own special blend, created to mask any hair mishaps and match your haircolor to your mood of the moment! But beware, overprocessing with this special substance can make some very funny things happen to your head!"
It was now clear why all these boys were here. It was that Dastardly Draco and his infamous product placement- they were all sitting around in what was the wizard equivalent of a Tupperware party!
Harry, befuddled and disappointed, sank back onto his cushion, staring at his now perfectly purple hair, and began to sob.
That's it, kids. Review!
