The Chronicles of Draco Malfoy

Chapter Seven

Talent is only a part of the equation. You also need persistence, humility, and a sense of honor.

"Hear that, Mugshots?" I say, scratching the cat behind his ears. "Talent plus persistence plus humility plus sense of honor equals Draco Malfoy. But everybody knows that already, right?"

Mugshots blinks at me and proceeds to lick his... unmentionable parts.

Right.

So! Yes. I've renamed Granger's bloody cat Mugshots instead of... what was that again? Crookshields? Crankshanks? Crankshields? Eh, well, whatever stupid name Granger gave him, I've changed it. Mugshots is a perfectly perfect name for a cat, and since he stays with me longer than he actually is with Granger I think he's used to it by now. I've learned that during the direst of times Mugshots is a perfect companion, as he silently agrees to everything I say. We've forged an unbreakable bond, see. It'll take more than walls and a potentially psychotic mistress to keep him away from me!

"Now, if only I can teach you something, like... roll over, Mugshots! Play dead, Mugshots! Sit down and edit my first draft, Mugshots!" Hmm. Can I do that? Well, he is intelligent. Maybe I shall start with--

Pop!

--teaching the cat how to kill unwanted visitors.

I can see it now - Weasley apparates, Mugshots goes in for the kill... Mugshots scores! Weasley loses an eye! Woohoo! The crowd goes wild!

Ah. Good images.

I raise my brow as I see Pansy standing absolutely still after apparating. Alone. I'm quite in shock, since I usually see Weasley with her, before her, or after her. When five seconds passed and still no sight of Weasley assaulted me, I begin to get a nagging feeling that this meeting will be unusual.

And yes, my precognitions are always correct.

"Haven't you learned by now that I do not condone apparating into my personal space without my personal permission?" I say, walking to the door to let the cat out. After Mugshots leaves I turn around and see Pansy still standing absolutely still after apparating. "What's wrong, Pansy? Forgot to take your medication or--"

Then she hastily wipes her eyes and turns, letting me behold her make-up-less beauty in all its glory. Which isn't much, let me tell you. But... hold on... "Pansy..." I started softly.

She sniffs and rubs her nose with a tissue. "What?"

What's the matter with her? "Your mascara's running," I tell her helpfully. "You look hideous."

She then throws at me her disgustingly mushy tissue and deposits herself on my plush sofa, grunting all the while. Pansy sniffs again.

"Why do you look hide-- wait, stupid question. Why is your mascara running?" I ask, sitting at a safe distance from her and her bacteria-filled mucus.

Pansy unelegantly blows her nose and spits, "The wedding's off."

What?

"What?"

Pansy throws at me her infamous glare-of-doom and repeats, "The wedding's off!"

I rub my neck. What am I suppose to say in this type of situation? Yes I realize that I'm less-evil and all that but goodness doesn't just pop into my consciousness every now and then, thank Salazar! "Why?" I ask. Then it dawns upon me. Of course! The answer is simple, Draco! "You've seen Weasley without his trousers on!"

I don't understand why Pansy looks at me like this. Truly perplexing. "Of course I already saw him without trousers you idiot!" she screeches, her claws poised to gouge my eyes out.

I move away. "But why else would you--"

"We had a fight," she sniffs.

"Ah. Say no more." I stand. "You've discovered that Weasley's having an affair with Potter, haven't you." I nearly giggled with fiendish delight. Why, that certainly explained a hell lot about--

Pansy blinks at me. "What?"

"Or! Weasley's having an affair... with Granger!" As I say the words, a curious, boiling feeling of hatred engulfs me. If I ever see Weasley again, why I'm going to mutilate his bloody--

Pansy blinks at me. "What?"

"Or! Weasley's having an affair with--"

"Weasley's not having an affair!" Pansy shouts.

I pause. "Ah. Say no more." I look at her and proudly proclaim, "You're having an affair with--"

"I'm... you... bloody..." Pansy inhales so much air her nostrils flare to twice their size. Scary. "No one's having an affair, all right! No one. Ron doesn't have the balls to do that to me! Ha! If he tries to even think about having an affair then ... I... I'll castrate--"

"Then what the bloody hell did you fight about?"

Pansy sinks further into my sofa. "He wanted seven," she sighs. "I wanted six."

Seven or six what? "Children?"

"No! Please. We're normal people," she scoffs. "We'll have more than that!"

Erm. What else do I know about weddings and numbers? "Godparents? Bridesmaids? Goddamnit Parkinson why am I even guessing?"

"Because I'll tear your eyes out if you don't listen? And no, no! We didn't fight about that! What, you think we're shallow people? Of all the nerve, Draco Malfoy! Have you looked into the mirror lately?"

I curb my strong urge to strangle her. I'm the forgiving type of person, see. "Tell me or I swear to the esence of evilness I will beat you to death with--"

"People!" she shrieks.

What? "How the hell can I beat you with that?"

"Yes! People! We fought over people." Pansy stands, nearly quivering with anger as she does. "He wanted seven people in a single table. Seven people! What is he, mad? I told him, what if the six of them partnered up, what about the seventh man? He'll be the odd one out! So I said six people is better. Quite clever of me, right? Well, no! The stupid idiot didn't think so! He insisted seven. I said six. He said seven. I insisted six. We can't decide, so we called off the wedding." She sinks on the sofa again and bursts to hysterical tears. "Oh. Oh. Oh. Thanks to that red-haired pinprick of a man my life is ruined."

Sometimes in life, you get a single moment where clarity becomes your shining beacon in a field of never ending darkness. In my case, that clarity came with a blinding headache when I realized I endured four and a half minutes of drama and tears and all because of what? Some pathetic piece of reason that doesn't even have enough sense! "Pansy..." I say, lowering my voice to make it as smooth as an angel's lullaby, "I say this as a friend who wants nothing but the best for you. You and Ron should patch things up. You love each other. You should get married."

"Really?" she asks, on the verge of tears again. Pansy even smiles a little now.

"Yes. Really. You know why?" I smile angelically, and touch her hair. "Because I know of no other people who could be so stupid to call off a wedding because of... numbers! Bloody hell woman! Do you even examine your words before they come out of your mouth? Or is it a given talent that when you open your mouth stupidity comes out?"

Pansy's face freezes into an expression that's torn between murder and disbelief. "It's not just the arrangement!" she screams. "There's the food, the plates, the decorations, the--you don't understand!"

"Damn right I don't! I will not tolerate any second more of this absurdity!" I point to the door. "Get out! Get out! Get out!"

Pansy glares at me. "You think my problem is so worthless, don't you?"

"No, Parkinson - I don't think your problem's worthless. I think it's stupid!" I point to the other, and repeat, "Out!"

"Ha! Let's just see when you're the one getting married!"

"Not bloody likely! I'll never be stupid enough to get married!" I point to the door. "Out!"

"Let's just see about that!" And out Pansy goes with a loud pop.

The bloody nerve of these people to just come in out of nowhere and bother me with their problems! Why, I ought to--

"Say, Malfoy, I need some scissors, do you have--"

Potter pauses as I turn towards him. He has undoubtedly seen a vision of his death in my pale, clear, silver, ice-like, crystalline, molten gray/grey eyes.

"Ouuuuuuttttt!!!"

-

After a few minutes, I'm calm. I'm the essence of calmness and serenity. I'm the epitome of peace and love. The hearts of those I touch blossom with the beauty and strength of inner freedom.

I go out of my flat, scissors in hand. I vaguely remember Potter dropping by to borrow them, but for the life of me I do not understand why it is that he has left so suddenly. And without the courtesy of excusing himself! Barbarism, indeed thy name is Harry Potter.

I'm about to knock on his door when I hear noises coming from the outside. I think I recognize one of the voices... but who the hell is--

"Well, here we are," Granger says, opening the hall door and smiling at someone.

I peek out, and see this... how shall I describe this nonentity? Nondescript face, bland height, dull aura. Forgettable. Easily blends with the surroundings. Lost in a haze of faces... you get my point.

"I... can I walk you to your door?"

No you bloody cannot! Leisurely, I walk to the door and announce my presence by way of an elegant cough. Instantly, Granger's nice visage disappears, leaving a murderer's face behind. "What are you--"

"Granger! Luv!" I say, coming to stand beside her. I smile at the entity currently occupying our doorstep. Hmm. Black hair, black eyes, black lips - pathetic. I look at her again. "I thought you'd never get here. How was your day?"

She almost hyperventilates in her anger.

Nondescript entity merely scrunches his brows. "Um--hi. I'm--"

"Oh. You brought a friend!" I place my hand over his shoulder, purposely hovering the sharp tip of my scissors near his pulse point. "Draco Malfoy. You know, the Draco Malfoy, killer extraordinaire? Person who saw the light before he committed an eternal error, betrayed his whole beliefs, embraced a whole new perspec--"

"On second thought, Greg, better walk me to my door." And she shoots at me an extremely irritated glance before grabbing - grabbing! - the nondescript entity's hand.

Of course, being a good person, I follow. Merlin knows what murderous fate will befall the innocent nonentity at the hands of Granger! "So. Greg. That's your name, isn't it? What a grand coincidence, I also have a friend named Greg. Well, had anyway. You know, Gregory Goyle? Shame he had to die at my hands and all."

Granger whirls around to face me. "You-- you didn't kill Goyle!" she spits.

"Oh, I didn't?" I blink at her, innocence radiating from my pores. "Well. It's hard to keep track these days. Sometimes a black fog still engulfs me and I kill the next nondescript entity crossing my path - say, Greg, you don't happen to have a family who'll miss you, do you?" I smile at him.

He tugs at his collar - who the bloody hell wears collars nowadays anyway? - and says, "Well, Hermione, I... better go--"

"No, Greg, you promised me you'll have tea with me, remember?" she says through gritted teeth.

What? "Oh, how sweet of you, Greg! Say, have you heard of the fate that befell Theodore Nott? They say his neck got cut by dull scissors and-- well will you look at that, I happen to carry scissors with me--"

"That's enough, Malfoy!" Granger pushes her door open and all but shoves the nondescript entity inside. "What are you even doing here?"

I shrug. "Well, I came just to make sure that you two will have none of those unscrupulous activities - and I will hear you, you know, with me living beneath your flat and all--"

"We will not--" She pauses, breathing heavily between her teeth. "That's none of your business!"

"Of course it's my business, this is unfortunately where I live!" I return heatedly.

"Ah... Miss Granger?" Nondescript entity slowly creeps toward her.

"What?" we both snap. Cue exchanging of glares-of-death.

"I think... your cat..."

And I see Mugshots, his hair standing, his teeth and claws bared, slowly creep towards nondescript entity. My cat looks about ready to kill.

Mwahaha.

"What the--Crookshanks!"

"Good boy, Mugshots!"

We look at each other.

"Did... did you just call my cat Mugshots?"

"What the bloody hell kind of name is Crookshanks?"

"I happen to think 'Crookshanks' is a perfectly perfect name for a cat!"

"So is Mugshots!"

"No it isn't! And why are you renaming my cat anyway?"

"Because Mugshots is a better name for a cat!"

She crosses her arms. "Says who?"

I smirk. "Says me."

"Miss--"

"Shush!"

"Shut up!"

"My cat is my property and you have no right renaming him!"

I cross my arms. "Ha! Have you looked at his belly lately? Yes! Fifty percent of his fatness came from my food, ergo, his fat belongs to me!"

She shakes her head. "I can't believe I'm having this discussion with you! I better... Greg, let's..." Granger pauses, looks over her shoulder, and frowns. "Greg? Greg?"

Mugshots looks psychotically content licking something off his face.

I smirk. "I think Mugshots just ate your friend. Good boy, Mugshots."

The cat comes to me and rubs himself all over my leg.

"Well, thank you Draco Malfoy for chasing away my guest!" Granger screams, pivoting on her heel and marching towards her door.

"You're bloody right. You should be thankful! Even Mugshots can tell how boring that nondescript nonentity was."

She rolls her eyes. "Crookshanks, come here, boy!"

Mugshots just stares at her.

"Crookshanks, come here!"

"I think he likes me better," I say with a grand smile. "Don't you, Mugshots?"

The cat purrs.

She bites her lips then closes the door with a loud bang!

"Ha." I crouch to scratch Mugshots behind his ears. "I've always known we'll make a great team. Now, here's how to attack when Weasley apparates in... and later I'll teach you how to edit..."

-

Author's Notes: I've been feeling a bit down lately and believe me, writing this has been extremely helpful. Thank you very much, guys, for reading and reviewing, and see you next chapter!