Disclaimer: I own Gavin, Zoe, Lone, the hippie at the Chinese restaraunt, various hoboes, and any other random characters that do not seem familiar. The rest belong to Rowling. I hope she forgives me for the sh*t I've pulled with her beloved characters.

POV: Your very favorite blond ferret.

Time Period: Utter crack. Based on the books but most of this was written pre-HBP and later changed to reflect canon. It is completely A/U. Everyone survived the war. Canon pairings are NOT taken into consideration.

Warning: Slightly mature but goofily so. Full o' lingerie humor, sexual fantasies belonging to Draco Malfoy, raunchy jokes made by Draco Malfoy, slight language, Draco Malfoy acting overtly sexual, and sex stuff in later chapters. CONTAINS MOUNTAINS OF SLASH, but Draco is straight!

Ships: Dramione (main pairing), Draco/Pansy, Ron/Hermione, Neville/Luna, Ron/FemaleOC, Percy/Penelope, Narcissa/Lucius, Pansy/Millicent, Harry/MaleOC, Twins/Angelina, SeverusS/Himself.

Introduction: When I began this story in 2002-2003, I thought of it as a crazy idea that would be pretty simple to work out, and that people might not even understand, being that the humor is a little tainted and the whole story revolves around Malfoy. Malfoy and his psychotic family, tasteless jokes, and hobby of making up songs about himself. It was a vision I had of the character- totally warped and caught up in himself... I have always liked Draco in canon for his humor (even though he's a total idiot and really mean). He's clever and seems like if he wised up, he could actually be a humorous person. I got really positive feedback from people who seemed as off their rockers as myself. I got nominated for 3 awards at a Dramione site (sadly the link has been removed as I'm sure the site is down). Although the movies made peoples' Draco obsession take a different direction, I prefer Draco to be a pompous sh*t and I don't think Hermione should randomly swoon over him. That being said, it's been a long time coming with the romantic aspect of this fic. It's now 2013 and I'm working on editing/updating this weird little fic. I hope you enjoy.


Chapter One: My Sexy Life


"Whoaaaa, whoa, baby, whoaaa. It's like magic, when I look at you. It's like magic, making my dreams come true.."


"I want to curse the warlock who broke your beating heart-"


"-tear him apaaaaart-"

I growled and buried my face under my pillow. A daft band called Sorcery Sorority had come out with a new single, and it was absolutely driving me barmey! I used to be into their music... WHEN I WAS FIFTEEN! Now, they've made a comeback, and personally, I feel like tearing the lead singer apart- and tossing him out to die amongst dragons. BANG! My bedroom door was crashing into the door jam like mad.

Between that and the outdated punk music, my head was becoming numb. Underneath my pillow, I tried to debate which was worse. I'm so stupid when I'm tired.

"I want you, witch. I want you! I won't control you, I will console you-"

Too.. Many... Lovey... Lyrics... Too... Early... GGGGAAAHHH!

"DAMN IT, SHUT UP," I bellowed, and, acting as if I was doing something really rebellious, I shut off my alarm. Oh yes. Malfoy's the man.

Then a voice came from behind the now silent door. "Draconius Lucifer Malfoy, what in the name of Routebaga Cartright did you just say to me?"

Whoops. Apparently, it was Father who was harassing my door with his cane."I wasn't talking to you, Father! I was speaking to the radio. Have you heard that new song 'I Want You, Witch'?" I questioned quickly, not wanting to make Daddy Dearest annoyed in the early hours
of the morning.

I could hear his eyes roll. "Completely understood, Draco. Now, open this door."

I groaned very quietly, and stretched, getting out of my nice, soft, bed with my black velvet pillows and my black canopy and my-

Never mind, I was asleep again.


"Fine, fine," I yawned.

Things haven't changed much since I turned eighteen and left Hogwarts forever. My father got out of Azkaban for being mental (I'll explain later), and is still controlling my life. I like that man, but MY SALAZAR! At least when he was in Azkaban, he couldn't nag at me or make fun of me. I remember how sad I was when he got taken into jail. I was fifteen. Wow. I couldn't even guess how important privacy was back then.

I threw my comfy black comforter off of me, and grabbed my wand from my chest of drawers. I went up to the door, and mumbled sixteen counter- hexes. I'd made it so no one could apparate into my room or get through the jinxes, because Lucius had caught me playing Choke the Hippogriff one too many times. The door swung open, revealing (Ta- da!), Lucius Malfoy, my model father.

Now, when I say "model'", please do not get the idea that I am referring to him as a outstanding citizen. What I mean is, he is always groomed, perfumed, and dressed to kill, though not literally any more.

"Blast it, Draco! How many curses does a door need? Couldn't you just latch it?" he spat out, being careful not to let his head move, as I could see his platinum tresses were freshly straightened.

"Blast it, Lucius," I said, copying his voice so accurately that I sent chills down my own spine. He sneered. "I'm not seven years old. I'm nearly triple that age, actually, and I need my P-R-I-V-A-C-Y, all right?" I told him, trying to understand that he is old, and probably has no memory of his childhood whatsoever. He'd just had his birthday last month, November 9th, and turned a whopping fifty years old! Scary thought.

"Forgive me. I forget how old you are," he sighed, trying to look misty- eyed, but it wasn't working. "Anyway," he continued tartly," please be showered and dressed by nine, that is, if you still wish to go to Diagon Alley while I attend my meeting."

I shrugged, shoving a hand through my tousled hair. "Certainly. I'll inquire about condominiums."

"No," he declared. "What did I say yesterday?"

I rolled my eyes, a snicker escaping my lips. "I don't play that game any more. I'm not a child." I pushed past him.

"Draco Malfoy, what did I say?" he snarled, grabbing my shoulder.

I gave in, painfully. " You said that 'Malfoys are too dignified live in a one room dump with a small kitchen', but Father! I need my own place! I need privacy! I'll be closer to Saint Mungo's, so I can complete my internship!"

"Internship? You've only just got into surgeon school. You want an internship? Wait five years," he scoffed. "And in the mean time, think about the disgusting waifs who get put up in those rat- bitten scum houses! I do not want any child of mine living like that!"

"Maybe I'm adopted," I put in grimly.

He looked annoyed. "You weren't. Take my word for it."

(Fair enough.)

"I deserve a flat," I asserted loudly.

"Really?" he questioned, with a little smirk.

"Yes, SIR, I do," I replied rudely. He hates when I refer to him as 'Sir'. He says it makes him feel old. I've got news for you, chap...

His eyes flashed. "And tell me, Mr. Malfoy, who has the money for this so called 'deserved' flat?"

Oh, bother.

"Look, won't you let me borrow just enough to-"


"You bought me my books for-"

"That is education. This is pleasure. Give it up, Draco, before I take back the money for your college ," he snarled.

"But, Father! If I move out, you and Mother can frisk anywhere you please!" I paused and drew in a breath. This called for desperate measures. "Even in... my room."

He smirked at me. "Plenty of things happen while you are not at home," he said delicately. I swallowed loudly, very fearful. "Suffice to say, you can stay at home forever and our... as you say, frisking, shall go on anywhere we damn well please."

"Oh, twisty snakes, Lucius! You're revolting!" I shouted. "I hate you!"

"And I hate you, too, son," he said warmly.

Not wanting to admit defeat, I stalked past him toward the bathroom. I heard him chortling at me evilly, and despite my disgust and horror, I grinned. Same old Father. Still as cruel as he was eighteen years ago.

I entered my bathroom, pulling off my silk pajamas and gazing into the mirror. Oh, how I love my delicious ashen white body. I had no shortage of female attention. Even some boys wanted a piece (though I had to let them down easily by calling them homos and telling them to bugger off immediately). I was wealthy, and adorable, and had excellent table manners. I even had a girlfriend. You might know her, Pansy Parkinson. Our families had been friends for centuries and we were basically raised to be together. Although Pansy was near perfect (not as perfect as me, of course), I was always looking for a new contender for Mrs Draco Malfoy. She'd have to be extremely hot and fashionable and have brains, something Parkinson was severely lacking in.

My dream witch would have to be as quick-witted and amazing as me. So far, I hadn't met my match. Which, given the odds, is just not very surprising.

"Beautiful Draco," I sang to myself. "Everyone loves you. La la la."

I love making up songs about myself. I'm so perfect.