AUTHOR'S NOTE:I decided that the Draco/Ginny category needed more fluff in it. There are undoubtedly so many stories with dark undertones (okay, reality call, we *are* dealing with Draco Malfoy) and naturally a few with fluffy never-going-to-happen-but-who-cares plots. Yes. Cheesy. Fluffy. Sweet. I like cavities. Ahem, so anyway, I've always pictured the more adult Draco as a Joren Stone from the ICBW series by Sulia Serafine in the Tamora Pierce section (totally recommend it, check it out, she's such a great author and for once I'm not lying!) That's probably why Draco has got a motorcycle now. But really. Don't you think Draco could be a motorcycle man? I could see it…in another millennium but…I could see it! ; o)
DISCLAIMER:JK Rowling and er…um (blushes) I'm completely sorry that Draco turned out to be an eensy bit similar to Joren in Sulia's fic . I didn't mean too, really, it was all…someone else's fault! Oops, couldn't really do better than that……….
Chapter One: Damn People
From Draco's point of view.
I realize, of course, that most people are stupid. It's only natural, not everybody can be as smart as the next person, unfortunate as the thought is. But I never actually thought that people were THIS stupid.
It started at the end of Christmas break. I had gone home, as usual, for a 'loving' family holiday in the Mediterranean. It was good, as far as holidays go. Father was pressuring me into joining Voldemort's league soon but I informed him that it would be daft to join the losing side. Obviously. I agreed with most of what Voldemort said and taught but there was that fine line between life and death. I preferred to be among the living. After all, not ALL of us have Voldie's amazing resilience. Damn bastard!
Father ranted, yelled, threw things, and demanded why I thought it was the losing side because it, I quote, "wasn't". Apparently Potter's defeat of Voldemort was only sheer dumb luck. Hell yeah, I thought everybody knew that, but if Potter got lucky once he was definitely going to get lucky again. And hadn't he? There had been almost a billion attempts on his life in the past seventeen years and the kid was annoyingly still breathing. Thank you but no, I was not about to sacrifice myself to join the losing side.
So pretty much, my father was mad at me the entire vacation. That was fine by me. Mother absorbed herself in complaining about the 'help these days and updating herself on the latest summer fashions while I strolled the beach. Forgive me but I was damn tired of looking like skim milk. Most girls don't really go for the blue cheese look.
The Mediterranean was nice. We stayed at a pleasant villa rented from a relative. It was an all wizard island community and there were a goodly amount of gorgeous girls that were prepared to be accosted. Nothing like those frigid aliens up north at Hogwarts! By the time I was ready to head back to school, my skin had acquired a very nice tan and my hair was almost more silvery if it was possible. Mother was upset with me for my latest fashion styles (I'd been recently absorbed into the world of tight black clothing~ I could get just about anything I wanted from the girls if the clothes were tight and black enough) and Father was furious that a Malfoy possessed anything second hand. Did I mention? I now had a motorcycle. A flying motorcycle. It seemed that it had once belonged to the notorious criminal, Sirius Black. He had been a Gryffindor but no matter! The guy had attempted an escape from Azkaban and succeeded. That deserved some respect.
Needless to say, when I boarded the Hogwarts Express at the beginning of January, I was a changed man. Not very, but my tan was good my clothes were different in my trunk (although I had become the recently become the victim of the school uniform) and I had a whole four months to look forward to painting my motorcycle. It needed a little work and I could just see the silver accents. For the first time in my life, I was happy. I couldn't wait to choose the silver.
On the train I entered an empty compartment and kicked my trunk into a compartment. Crabbe and Goyle, the dim-witted fools- had elected to stay at Hogwarts during the winter break. I couldn't understand why but Goyle had muttered something about that piggish Parkinson and Crabbe motioned with his eyes toward the kitchens. It was pathetic, really, that these losers were my friends. It almost made me wish that Potter had taken me up on that offer of friendship back in first year. Almost. It was kind of nice to settle myself back into the familiar grounds of hatred. It was so much fun sometimes. And Potter was stupid. Yet another stupid person.
I had propped my feet up on the seat beside me. My different paint chips were spread out in front of me as I considered which would be the best one to put on my (to-be) gloriously black bike. There were ones sporting such girly names such as "Moonshine" and "Sassy Silver". The things I put up with sometimes. They really should sue those paint makers. Balanced carefully, just about where my knees were, was a picture of my motorcycle. It had been taken right after we got home when I decided to lock it in the old carriage house (like we ever used it). I had bespelled it to make sure that Father didn't do anything to my own cargo. Like I trusted the dirty old coot. I spent another grueling hour this way trying to furiously find the one shade of silver that didn't have a stupid name and would set off the wheels right before the Weaslette found me. She was dressed in a thin, black robe but her school uniform was in good condition. Obviously, I told myself. The school provides it after all. I eyed her scarlet and gold tie with faint distaste. The most horrifying thing about the whole idea was that I was actually thinking that she was attractive. Imagine! A Weasel! Hadn't I just spent two weeks with some of the hottest looking girls in the world? Bloody hell, I'd lost my virginity four years ago. So why was I so damn attracted to Weasel?
In conclusion, people are stupid.
I give up~ I'm the one that's stupid.