A Hogwarts Christmas Carol
Stab Five: That's All She Wrote
Draco woke with a start and sat up in his four-poster in his dorm room in Slytherin Commons.
"Am I in the grave! It's dark, it's dark," he opened his eyes. "Oh."
Draco climbed out of bed and put on a dressing gown composed of the delicately stitched gossamer wings of castrated Cornish Pixies - the movie subspecies with wings, not the canon species that are wingless - and underlined for modesty with the tanned matched penises of albino Ukrainian Ironbelly Dragons with a nice edging of black silk embroidery thread that spelled out 'HA! Let Us See You Top This Ensemble!' and a few buttons that flashed 'Potter Still Stinks'. Draco raced to his bedroom door and looked in the hallway. An ikle firstie Slytherin half the size of tiny Colon Creepy... I mean, Colon Creevy, walked down the hallway.
"Oi, you, you little cretin. What day is this?" called Draco.
"What? Why Sunday you lousy piece of ..."
"No, you little dipwad! I mean, what holiday is it today?"
"Why Christmas day you nincompoop."
"Then I haven't missed it! Happy, happy, joy, joy!" Draco danced around in a circle and did a cartwheel and a few backflips. "Here boy, come here. Is the very special prize racing broom in Hogsmead that's hanging at the Quality Quidditch Supplies Outlet Store window still there?"
"What? The flippin' racing broom what's as big as me?"
"No you eejit, the one as big as my willie. Yeah the big broomstick you insolent boy, you dimwitted, obstinate boy! I want you to go there and order the very special broomstick sent to the Weasleys of the Burrow on the tab of Mr. Draco Malfoy. Do you hear me or are there chocolate frogs in your ears you little cretin? Here, have the very special racing broomstick sent inside of the hour and there'll be a shiny new Sickle just for you!"
"Oh kiss my ikle Scottish arse you great sod," said the small boy.
"Have the racing broom sent to the Burrow within the half hour and I won't kick your juvenile 'ikle arse' from here to Diagon Alley, got that Skippy?"
"Yes!" the child ran off as though he had wings on his feet.
"Oh," shouted Draco happily, "I am as giddy as one of those Hufflepuff dimrods, as happy as a mindless Gryffindor and smarter than one of those boring book memorizing Ravenclaw! I am quite a babe! A looker! A keeper! I am the bees knees and I am HOT!"
"I have no right to be so happy. But damn it, when I imagine the look of surprise on the Weasleys' faces when the prize 'very special' racing broomstick is delivered to them! I am quite happy! Just imagine when Ron mounts that racing broom and just as he gets it more than twenty-five feet off the ground it explodes into a thousand and one pieces! HA HA HA HA HA HA! I'd give good Galleons to see the looks on the Weasley's faces." Draco wiped a happy tear from his eye.
"Damn me, I am going back to bed. Then I'm going over to Gryffindor and teach that damned mudblood Granger a thing or two and maybe pinch her ikle mudblood alabaster arse into the bargain. Paying house-elves a salary. If that isn't the stupidest thing I've ever heard of in my entire life..." Draco fussed to himself.
Draco was better than his word. He pinched Granger's ikle bum. And to Ron Draco became a nemesis worse than ever before. Draco was a continuous thorn in the side of Harry Potter and.... What? You say this was supposed to end on a happy note with Draco honoring Christmas in his heart and showing love for his fellow witches and wizards? As if. Don't you know anything about the Malfoys?
The End
Home
Send E-Mail to: dumbledore1900@yahoo.com
Copyright © 2002 . All Rights Reserved