A/N: HI! (silence) ...well, this is awkward. Don't ask me where I've been or what I've been doing this past few months. I'm not sure myself. And although I'm sure many are currently dissappointed because of no new chapter of "Be a Doll", I assure you it will be coming soon. I have school for another two weeks and then...well, I promise there will be new chapters galore, for both stories. There's also a one-shot I've been hoping to post - but I suppose you'll see about that. For now, I present to you:

The Art of Being Insane

Chapter 11: The Failed Plots (and How to Scare a Mudblood)

My parents obviously weren't thinking about me when they got married. I realize this sounds like a lot to ask, considering I wasn't born yet, but I don't think it would've been too much work to think about the consequences should they decide to reproduce. The consequences for their child, I mean.

My mother was what people called a "striking beauty" (although she did sometimes get this look on her face that was striking in a completely different manner) and I suppose my father was a pretty good-looking bloke as well. If nothing else, he was very aristocratic, even with his ridiculously long hair. So my features weren't the problem. In fact, I was rather handsome if I did say so myself. My issue lay in coloring. Or lack thereof.

I was pale. I was like an uncolored picture. My skin was sheet white, my hair such a sheer blonde it was silver, my eyes gray. I'd like to say this made me all the more dashing and unique, but really, it made me look weird. It had happened more than once that I was stopped in the middle of the street by people who were convinced I need to be taken to the hospital immediately. Whispers of 'ghost' and 'albino' followed me wherever I went. If hurt myself the tiniest bit, I'd have the mark for days. The sun was my mortal enemy. And all of this because of my parents, who were too selfish to realize that their one and only son would forever be plagued by their own pale-ness.

The fact that I was so damn white killed my beauty. Never did I hear the comment, "Oh, Narcissa, you have such a darling boy" or "What a handsome young lad". It was always "Are you sure he's getting enough sun?" and "He looks a bit sickly. I'll go get some tonic…". People didn't like to look at me for fear that I'd blind them.

That part I actually found a bit amusing, and I tended to do strange things when amused (which explained my behavior towards Granger's anger). Not to mention that I had always had a knack for transfiguration. This led to some…well, 'interesting' experiments.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm not looking at you." I told Granger, telling her a rare truth.

Granger backed away from me, abandoning her work on my wound. "Malfoy, stop it. That's creepy."

"What are you talking about?" I pressed.

"You're doing it right now!"

I squirmed upright, and stared directly at her. This time she shrieked and scrambled over to the door. "I'm serious Malfoy, cut it out! It's not funny!"

It was actually very funny, but she wasn't able to tell that I thought so from my expression. Merlin, I was a good actor.

"Granger, you're being paranoid." I huffed, "Now will you get back over here and finish putting on this salve? I have things to do."

She was beginning to look nauseous. Drawing her wand, Granger pointed at me with a shaking hand. "I-I'm not doing anything until you stop looking at me like that."

"How am I looking at you?" I asked her, smirking.

"Malfoy, I'm telling you -"

"How am I looking at you?" I asked again, sliding off the desktop.

"What are you doing?!"

I began to slink towards her. "How am I looking at you?"

Her back was to the wall. "Don't come any closer, I'll - !"

"How am I looking at you?"

Granger's scream died on her lips, and she slid down the wall, trembling like a leaf. I laughed manically and leapt forward -

"Oh. It's just your eyebrows." She said quietly.

I stopped in mid-lunge. "What did you say?"

"It's your eyebrows." Granger repeated, sounding very composed. "You made them invisible, didn't you? That's why you looked so creepy. I knew it must've been something like that." She stood up and primly adjusted her robes. "Well, come on. I've got to finish putting on your salve before I leave for Apparition Ed. I know you're not going this week, but we still have to hurry up."

I was frozen in my shock, but that didn't stop me from seeing the devilish smile flicker onto her mouth. All at once it became clear: she had been faking. She'd known it was just my eyebrows the entire time. I thought I had been the skilled actor, but in reality it was her. I'd been duped, duped at my own game. Again.

I stuck a peppermint in my mouth and stomped back over to the table. 'We'll see about this, Granger.'

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"Draco," Helga Hufflepuff cooed, peering out at me from the picture frame, "Don't you think you're getting just a little bit obsessive…"

"Not at all." I flipped through my copy of Transfiguration for the Bored and Sadistic, and pointed to a spell, "Okay, how's this one? It'll make my teeth all long and sharp like a vampire. Maybe I could attack her neck or something."

Slytherin shook his head. "That won't do, not in this room anyway. It'll seem like you're trying to put moves on her, and thanks to Helga and Godric over there," he gave the two a shrewd look, "You're mouth will probably sew itself up."

"Really, Salazar," Gryffindor stopped polishing his shield to speak, "How do you expect to have two seventeen-year-olds of opposite sexes share a dorm without protection spells?"

"I can't see why not." Ravenclaw sniffed. "It would be the Head Boy and Girl after all. We should trust them."

Helga leaned forward and whispered to me, "Rowena always was a bit ridiculous about the protection spells. I can't tell you how many times we found her and Salazar down in the dungeons -"

"Exchanging intellectual discoveries!" Ravenclaw finished indignantly.

"They were exchanging a lot more than that if you ask me." Gryffindor muttered.

"Why exactly are you trying to scare this girl anyway?" Slytherin asked, attempting to steer the conversation away from his love life.

I grumbled, "Because. She's a stupid-Mud-stupid-blood-stupid-Gryffin-stupid-dor-stupid-Lump.Who is stupid."

"It'd be awful if she were stupid too," Ravenclaw said dryly.

Gryffindor frowned. "What's wrong with Gryffindors?"

"You know, if it's a mudblood you're dealing with," Slytherin said smoothly, examining his nails, "You could've just asked me for my guide."

The other Founders gasped. "Serpent Tongue, I thought you swore you'd get rid of it!" cried Gryffindor.

"Oh, I did. You forget about my impeccable memory, however." His three fellows were scandalized. "Boy, write this down." Slytherin ordered, but I already had a quill out, poised over a fresh sheet of parchment. As if I wouldn't cherish something that would help me torture Granger.

"'How to Scare a Mudblood: A Guide by Salazar Svordoff Slytherin.'"

Ravenclaw snorted. "Svordoff…"

He rolled his eyes, and looked back at me, "You've got that down? Right then. 'Number One – Find out what the Mudblood is afraid of. If you don't know, make it up. Use something universally frightening as your tool.' Do you know what she's scared of?"

"I might have something." I answered, recalling a story that had been all over school back in third year. During the Defense Against the Dark Arts final, Granger had apparently lost it when her boggart changed into McGonagal and informed her that she had failed everything. Possibly, I could recreate a similar situation. "Keep going."

Slytherin continued to dictate his guide to me. Gryffindor got fed up halfway through and disappeared into the castle in the background. Hufflepuff took out some knitting but was sure to make disapproving clucks every few minutes, while Ravenclaw merely looked on, not saying a word.

Finally, after nearly an hour, we were down to the last step. I had already used up two feet of parchment and sat in eager anticipation as I waited Slytherin to reveal his final bit of Mudblood-torturing-related knowledge to me.

The serpent was grinning widely while he said, "Now listen carefully for this last one, Draco. It's very important, and it really brings it all together. Ready?" I nodded. "'Number 174' -" he announced grandly, "'Kill it.'"

I froze. "What?"

"You heard me. 'Kill it.'"

"It. Kill it." I repeated, flustered. He couldn't mean what I thought he meant. "By 'it' – you do mean the crocodile from Number 106?" I skimmed the rest of the guide hurriedly. "Or the bowtruckles from Number 22?"

"No." He stared. "I mean, well, 'it'. The Mudblood." Slytherin clapped his hands. "Isn't it great?"

I was saved from having to answer, for at the moment Ravenclaw burst into ironic laughter. "Obviously he doesn't think so, Salazar. You should've seen the look on his face when you said that." She pointed at me. "I knew you wouldn't like it. I sensed some moral fiber in you from the very beginning."

"Lionheart!" Hufflepuff called towards the castle. She had abandoned her knitting, wandered over to where Slytherin and Ravenclaw were standing. "Lionheart, you can come out now! He's done, Draco already rejected it."

Slytherin glared at her, then turned back to me. He almost seemed hurt. "You really don't like it?"

"No, I do!" I protested, but in truth, I was appalled. I mean, sure, it may be all fine and dandy for Salazar Slytherin to go around killing Mudbloods, but I couldn't do that. It wasn't that I was afraid of being sent to Azkaban (although I was) or because I was too lazy (also true). It was the simple fact that I would never kill anybody, no matter how annoying they were. Not even Granger.

"Look, maybe I could alter the guide a bit." I suggested, "There's some great stuff in here. Actually, if I just cut out the last step, it's perfect."

"It's not the same if you don't do that one!" Slytherin whined, "Really, it isn't! It seems a little harsh, yes, but it does wrap it up quite nicely. Try it."

"Um, no, I don't think I will…"

"Please?"

Oh Merlin, was be begging? I was growing steadily more uncomfortable as this went on. It didn't help when Gryffindor came out of the castle dancing a jig while singing, "Hahahahaha-HA, Sally got rejected…"

"I did not!" argued the other man.

"Did so-ooo!" giggled Gryffindor.

"DID NOT! Rowena, help me here!"

"I'm not doing anything. You told us you got rid of the list, so if Godric wants to sing, I'll let him."

"Technically, I did get rid of it."

"Not telling the whole truth is just as bad as a lie, Salazar!"

"Now, Badger Paw…"

"Don't try and sweet talk me, I'm not your darling Rowena."

"And what are you suggesting by that, Helga?"

"SALLY'S GETTING SORE, HELGA'S GETTING NASTY, ROWENA'S IN DENIAL…"

"Godric, shut up!" the other Founders shouted, before dissolving back into their argument. Not wanting to feel left out, Gryffindor went up to the group and began yelling as well.

Suddenly it made complete sense to me why Slytherin had finally ditched the other Founders and left Hogwarts. They fought over everything – wizarding lineage, school rules, who got to speak first, the shade of Hufflepuff's hair (in their last dispute, they had settled for "blonde, but on the reddish-auburn side"). I may not have had the best social skills, but even I knew that was no way to carry on with your friends.

I pointed. "I'll be over there making myself look good and frightening for the Mudblood. Just as a side note, though, I won't be killing her. You know, in case anybody cares."

Rowena Ravenclaw cheered as Slytherin chased Gryffindor and Hufflepuff around the painted castle in efforts to get his hair ribbon back. Sometimes they made it hard for me to remember that they were geniuses.

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From my perch on Ice Cream Cone Mountain, I watched a furry brown squirrel come into view. It was speaking to a bespectacled cat, who appeared to be very worried about it.

"Meow." The cat said, which roughly translated into "Oh, are you sure it's alright? You seem to have hurt yourself quite badly. Perhaps you should go and rest".

"Squeak." The squirrel answered, holding back a grimace. "I'm fine, really. I might even be able to run again by Monday."

"Mew-meow." The cat's tail twitched disapprovingly. "Well, I don't suggest trying that sort of thing, but if you say you're okay. I'll come to check on you later."

"Squeaky!" the squirrel called cheerfully, waving while the cat retreated. The moment the cat was out of sight, the squirrel let out a pitiful cry and grumbled a series of very bad words as it limped over to the my mountain.

I realized what the squirrel intended to do a second before it happened, but that was not enough time to escape the bushy creature as it threw itself backwards onto me. I struggled for air as I sank deeper into the ice cream, waving my arms wildly against the surprisingly heavy squirrel. Then, it let out a shriek that sounded an awful lot like…oh God. It was Granger.

My dream world faded from around me, and I got a mouthful of the Mudblood's robes in a futile attempt to cry out. That got her attention.

She rocketed off the couch with such force she stumbled and fell to the floor. "Malfoy!" she yelped, "What are you doing? You scared me half to death!"

"What am I doing?" I sat up, still gasping for air, "You're the one that thinks you can throw yourself down wherever the hell you want – wait, did you say I scared you?" I added excitedly.

Granger glared. "I would think so, you practically just bit me in the arse!"

If I were capable of pigment, I would have turned green at that point. I settled for falling onto the floor in shock, and she shrieked again as I almost rolled over her. "What?! I did no such thing!"

"You did so! I'm surprised the Founder spells didn't plain rip your mouth off…"

From the portrait, Ravenclaw snickered, "Now that's a protection spell I would've gone for."

"Shut up!" I looked at Granger. "And I didn't bite your Mudblood arse! Why the hell would I do that?"

"How am I supposed to know? You said you wanted to scare me, I bet that's your twisted way of doing it." she said, "You're just mad about that pathetic eyebrow thing from this morning!"

I tossed my hands up into the air. "Of course I'm mad about that! That's why I did all this." I gestured to my face and neck, which I completely made over with the help of my transfiguration book. I had given myself a hag's nose, vampire's teeth (I couldn't resist), bloodshot cat eyes, and the werewolf hair. My plan at been to 'attack' her when she came into the room, informing her that she failed – at life. In my opinion, the whole thing would've been terrifying. The Mudblood thought otherwise.

"Is that why you look like a Halloween costume gone wrong?" she said blankly, "I thought you were just practicing Transfiguration."

"ARGH!" I flipped over onto my stomach, burying my face into the dirty carpet. Would I ever win? "You know what, Granger? Kill me now. Please."

"As much as I'd love to take up that offer, it's already eight o'clock and I haven't done any of my homework, so if you'd excuse me - "

"Eight o'clock? What are you on about, it's only noon."

Granger sighed. "You must've fallen asleep or something, Malfoy. It's eight."

"What?!" The auditions! I scrambled to my feet, then doubled over in pain. My wound was causing no less trouble than that morning. "C'mon, you useless Lump, we've got to get down to the Quidditch Pitch."

She blanched. "The Quidditch Pitch?"

"For the auditions to replace Crabbe and Goyle!" I said, trying to pull her up from the floor. She wouldn't budge. "Get up, would you? I'm already a half an hour late."

"W-w-w-we can't!" she protested, latching onto the carpet when I began to pull harder. "It's…morally wrong!"

I scoffed. "You didn't care when we were putting up the posters yesterday." She shot out her leg to kick me, but I caught her ankle in my hand. "Gotcha – " Granger froze. I looked back and forth from her ankle to her face, back and forth.

A cloth bandage, not entirely unlike the one around my waist, was wrapped about her ankle.

"You – were - splinched?!" I said breathlessly.

Her reddening cheeks were my answer. At once, I dropped her ankle, and her pained scream covered the sound of it clunking to the floor. Of course, my celebratory hoot might have also had something to do with muffling the sound, but that remains to be seen.

"YOU! WERE! SPA-LI-I-I-IN-CHED!!" I bellowed, collapsing backwards onto the sofa. "Good God, Granger, why didn't you tell me? I would've baked a cake! I would've thrown a party! Why, this is the best thing that's happened to me since getting Head Boy."

"Best thing that's happened to you?" Granger spat, still on the floor nursing her injured ankle, "You idiot ferret. You realize that now we'll hardly be able to move at all? I can hardly walk!"

Actually, it hadn't occurred to me. Hmm. This might be a problem. "But it can't be so bad. I mean, it's only an ankle."

"Yes, Malfoy. Only an ankle. Only the thing I put my weight on in order to perform daily actions, such as standing, walking, fleeing from evil…Merlin, showering is going to be hell." she added in an undertone.

Ew.

"Well, I'm certainly not going to help you with that." I said briskly, "But, that aside, I do believe it's time to head down to the Quidditch Pitch…"

"You really don't understand this, do you? I CANNOT WALK WITHOUT YOUR HELP. YOU CANNOT WALK WITHOUT MY HELP. WE CANNOT WALK." Granger shouted, pulling herself up into an armchair. "So how in the world do you propose we get down to the Quidditch Pitch?!"

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For the record, I did regret having to sacrifice the last few bits of my dignity. I regretted it, but that didn't stop me from doing it anyway (although later I would find out that my efforts would once again be wasted, but that tale is soon to reveal itself).

Besides, it wasn't like I gave it up without a fight. In fact, the two of us fought quite a bit. I attempted to call my eagle owl so that he could deliver a message, but then remembered that I had never taught him to come when he's called. Granger tied a note to her cat, (Crooky-something, I believe his name was), and ordered him to go find Harry and Ron, twittering the whole while that he was the smartest cat in the world. Crook-whatever then proceeded to throw up on her robes and scurried into my room to sleep. We even tried to get there ourselves, deciding that maybe it would be easy just to run for it. We nearly made it to the door before Granger collapsed, squealing with pain, and I came down with her. By this time we were too tired to even drag ourselves back to the couches, so I simply rolled away from her and took to staring at the ceiling. I had the odd desire to begin hexing it again.

"Well…we could try riding a broom. I have my Nimbus, we could always take that."

"No!" Granger said, "The last thing I even want to do is get on a broom with the likes of you! I don't care if we never get down to the Quidditch Pitch - " she stopped abruptly and sat up. "Wait. I don't care if we never get down to the Quidditch Pitch. Then what the hell have I been trying to help you for the past half hour?"

I made a face. "You should be honored that I'm allowingyou help me. I hardly give people the opportunity. Actually," I smirked a bit at the next thought, "Why am I bothering with these auditions? If I weren't filled with the feeling of complete and total hatred every time I thought about you, you'd be the perfect cronie/companion."

I was not surprised when she kicked me, even though I thought delivering another blow to my head was a little much. But it must have done some good, for that was when the idea struck me. Granger. Of course!

I turned my gaze towards the Founder's portrait to see what they thought. Hufflepuff wagged a finger at me. "Oh, I know exactly what you're thinking, Draco Malfoy. Don't do it." I glanced at the others. Gryffindor sniffed disapprovingly, Ravenclaw shrugged and Slytherin pouted, obviously still disappointed that I had no intention of killing the Mudblood. I weighed their reactions and I decided that majority ruled. After all, Gryffindor and Slytherin's votes were didn't count because of their childish behavior, and Ravenclaw's beauty made her vote count twice - so I would do it.

I silently slid closer to Granger. Her arm was a few inches away from my face. I gathered all the courage I could muster, knowing that I receive much more than a few blows for this, and that if worse came to worse, I would be a dead man…and I kissed her elbow.

She jumped. "What was that?"

I sat up, pretending to examine my shoes for scuffs. "What was what?" I asked, nonchalant as you please. On the inside, however, I was confused. Why hadn't it worked? Surely the Founder's protection spell would've picked up my come-on! From the portrait, I heard all four of the Founders laughing, but was too frustrated to wonder about that at the moment.

"Nothing, I suppose," The Lump said, rubbing her arm. "I just thought I felt something wet. It's probably because of the rain, since this room is directly connected to outside."

"The rain?" Suddenly, I felt my world tilt. Rain No. She did not say rain. She could not have said rain. Right?

I felt blood rush to my head, turning my face unnaturally pink. Granger was not looking at me – she, like most, avoided it when she could - or she certainly would've realized that my displaying pigment meant something was horribly wrong.

"Yes, of course, you inattentive prat, it's been raining all afternoon. What, you didn't notice?"

And, as I realized that I had failed at a plot for the third time that day, it no longer brings me shame to admit it; I passed out.

A/N: Yeah, I know, strange chapter. But it's something, no? Read and review. Review and be loved.