A/N: Set to Panic! at the Disco's "Lying Is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have without Taking Her Clothes off." I'm asterisk-ing the f-word and moving the last chorus to the beginning; sorry to the purists. I'm doing my best to be tasteful, for once. For happygoluckyfull, thank you for the direction.
Draco stood and patted down his body. Robes, thank all that is sinister, neutral, or even benign. He looked around to orient himself and found…a cupboard. Who am I? Harry Stupid Potter? In a damn cupboard. He resolved to extricate himself from the offensive and Weasley-esque filth. He hadn't heard any music. Aside from the disgusting accommodations, he was relieved. He peeked through a discolored window to make sure he wouldn't put in an appearance at another Death Eater convention. He saw Pansy Parkinson with Adrian Pucey. His Pansy Parkinson. He didn't know when the grubby closet had attached itself to her Prefect's bedroom. He decided to suffer the indignity of his confinement long enough to thoroughly investigate his girlfriend's questionable liaison. At the start of the music he almost swore loud enough to be discovered. Maybe. Because Pucey's athletic body was pressed against Pansy, and his tongue was sloppily trying to find the back of her throat. Neither seemed very observant.
Let's get these teen hearts beating, faster, faster. And they were fast. Not the hearts, their scandalous betrayal. Pucey's shirt was undone. So testosterone boys and harlequin girls, will you dance to this beat and hold a lover close? His girlfriend and his teammate? Sacrilege. Did the two of them realize who he was? The kind of social power he had? How he could make them more ridiculed than the Hufflepuffs? So testosterone boys and harlequin girls, will you dance to this beat, and hold a lover close? And I have to endure this damn singing while watching this? Isn't one enough punishment? And, oh Gods, what is she wearing? Pansy was squeezed into a dress that was pink to the point of pain. It was too tight and too short; Draco deduced that she probably stole it from a younger Slytherin. No, Slytherins do not own that color pink. She must have cursed a first year Hufflepuff into giving it to her. That does sound more Pansy-ish.
Is it still me that makes you sweat? Draco was not jealous. Am I who you think about in bed? There was no way that he was jealous. No way. Not possible. When the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you're sliding off your dress? That feeling in his stomach was certainly not jealousy. Absolutely not. Then I think of what you did. It must be the feeling of disgust at allowing some bitch with poor manners and apparently low standards in bed partners to touch his flawless body. And how I hope to God he was worth it. When the lights are dim and your heart is racing as your fingers touch his skin. Though no one's there to see him, Draco stood a bit taller, a bit straighter. I've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better f~~~ than any boy you'll ever meet, sweetie, you had me. He was better than this. Better than them. Girl, I was it, look past the sweat, a better love deserving of exchanging body heat in the passenger seat. No, no, no, you know it will always just be me. For a brief unthinkable, and later denied, moment Draco imagined that Pansy was moaning his name.
In case I lost my train of thought, where was it that we last left off? But no, Pansy was repeating Pucey's name in a cheap imitation of her actual passion-voice. How stupid can that boy be? Draco wondered. Oh now I do recall, we were just getting to the part where the shock sets in, and the stomach acid finds a new way to make you get sick. If there were a reason for Draco to be jealous of their poor taste and obviously unworthiness, he would have felt the bile rising in his throat. However, as he was absolutely not jealous at all that his Pansy Parkinson had left him for that pathetic excuse for a replacement, he figured he just had heartburn. I hope you didn't expect that you'd get all of the attention. Now let's not get selfish, did you really think I'd let you kill this chorus? Draco had every intention of bursting out of the cupboard and humiliating the pair with all he was worth. In his hasty rush forward, he fell flat through the door into another black out.