A/N: A very belated HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Ellie!

This fic was written for Perfect Mischief's birthday challenge at The DG Forum.

Guidelines: Must be DG centered (no duh) and be Cinderella-based. (Doesn't have to follow story exactly; just has to include the basic storyline that can include but is not limited to poor girl, missing slipper, confused prince, etc.) The more creative the better! Masquerade balls accepted.

Bonus Points:

-If one of your characters eats a muffin.

-If you pose Draco as Cinderella and not be AU.

Unfortunately, I couldn't do the muffin part, but still. I know it's nothing like what you might've expected, but I hope you like it anyway! A lot of love and wombats to you, Ellie!

"Why, Draco, cher, it'll be perfect. Marrying the crazy redheaded little lady is a great, great thing, mate, and I know I'm going to make your bachelor party perfect."

"Well, isn't that wonderful," the blond drawled, trying to quell the flutters of nerves in his stomach. Merlin knew that proposing to the girl he loved so much was a big deal in itself; but the idea of marriage in two days was another thing entirely. "So what are you going to plan for me?"

"Wait and see, Draco, my boy." Blaise grinned at the pale-faced blond over his tankard of beer. "It'll be splendid. A fairy-tale themed strip bar, cher. Think about it."

"Pardon me, I think I'd rather save the energy for more important things."

"Well, then, I'll tell you. Imagine it, cher. Gloriously revealed bodies wearing the tiniest bits of pretty clothing, like, say, Red Riding Hood's little bonnet."

Blaise watched in pleasure at the gleam of satisfaction on his friend's face.

"What do you think, mon ami?"

Draco set down his tankard. "It'll do," he said haughtily. "Well, Blaise, I'd better get going."

"I'll meet you outside your house, and we'll apparate there," suggested Blaise. "Side-along. I want to keep it a secret—anticipation heightens the experience, and all that shit."

"Right." Draco stood up. "See you around, man."

"See you when I see you, cher." Blaise watched his friend leave with a decidedly evil glint in his dark eyes. He downed the last of his beer, and, grinning broadly, left to make the arrangements.

It'd be easy for Blaise to sneak up on the blond, and stun him unconscious—to have him out of the way until everything was prepared to perfection. And then Draco'd wake, right in the midst of all the fun. Perfect.

The poor boy had no idea what was in store for him.

The first thing Draco noticed when he regained consciousness was that he lay on some cold, hard ground that thrummed with an impossibly sexy beat.

The second thing was that he wanted to bloody murder that Blaise Zabini.

"Oh, look!" Blaise crowed, laughing to see Draco's face twitch irritably. "He's coming around! Wake up, cher. It's your party."

"Bloody prick," Draco grumbled, rolling onto his back with a groan. "I'll kill you."

"Now, we don't have time for silly things like that, mate. Get on up, now."

"We're in the strip club, are we?" wondered Draco with some smugness. He sat up. "Splendid." He suddenly wondered if he looked passably gorgeous, though he had to now admit with another satisfied smirk that he could charm anyone in the room anyway.

"Of course we are. Now get up."

Draco grinned, seeing the sultry lights play upon the dark ceilings, the light mists of alcohol and music, and made to stand up. "Absolutely."

Blaise watched in extreme amusement as Draco—the poor boy hadn't even realized it yet, but he was stark naked except for his green boxers—tottered on one foot comically before tumbling down again, the ground rising up to meet his aristocratic nose.

Draco looked down at his bare chest in horror, and then noticed the glossy, sharp seven-inch stiletto on his foot.

He was completely naked except for boxers and a single woman's shoe, with heels that could be used to kill a bloody troll.

Good Merlin, he'd been stripped.

Grumbling under his breath, Draco stood up carefully, and tried to stand on one foot so he could shake the stupid shoe off, but only ended up toppling again, this time having to clutch Blaise desperately to stay upright.

"Can't. Get. Damn. Shoe. Off," growled Draco, still trying to shake off the shoe.

Glaring murder at Blaise, Draco hopped heroically into the crowd. Many times, he grabbed one of the many dancing bodies around him in panic when he thought he was going to topple again and then be run over by a hundred dancing feet, to become nothing but a Malfoy smear.

Finally, he pitched forward into the clearing, clutching at a pole in relief, sighing. Now he just had to yell for someone to take the shoe off for him. The embarrassment of this situation would most likely have him committing suicide when he went back home, but he didn't want to die here, almost completely naked, piercing his own chest tragically with the stiletto.

That was when he noticed the men.

The naked men, dancing around poles to that slick, sexy beat, oiled bodies being cheered at by the crowds—who, also, happened to consist largely of half naked men.

Draco nearly let go of the pole and slithered to the ground in shock.

He was in a gay strip bar.

He sighed, planning to turn to the barman behind him and ask him if he could take this bloody shoe off for him.

He turned, and saw that the man behind the bar, who wore a long, flowing golden dress, a pearly tiara, and long dangly earrings, was regarding Draco with something of a scowl.

The man cocked an eyebrow at Draco, and then raised a long stick that resembled a cardboard wand with a large yellow star poised at the tip.

"All right," the barman said dully, "you seem to be in some anguish and distress. So I'm your fairy godmother." The man leant forward, looking bored. "Speak, princess. Anything I can do for you?"

"Princess?" exclaimed Draco in outrage. "Do you happen to be critically insane?"

The barman frowned. "Well, you're not very nice, so I think I'll skip that step." Rolling his eyes, he whacked Draco on the head deftly with the tacky wand. "Hoppity toppity tit. I, your fairy godmother, have blessed you with one night of joy and happiness in this fairy tale themed gay strip club," he rattled off sullenly, "and—" the barman peered expectantly over Draco's shoulder "—your prince should be around in just a minute."

"What—you—" spluttered Draco, enraged. "What makes you think I want your bloody blessings, you idiotic poof?"

"Oh, hello there!" the barman smirked at someone over Draco's shoulder. "You're just in time. This one," he nodded at Draco, "this one's a real brat. "

Draco whipped around to see the man hovering right behind him, his bare chest pressed up against him. He wore velvet red g-strings, and a sparkly little bow tie fastened by a string around his muscled neck.

"Hey, beautiful," the man said, grinning. "I'm Bruce." He touched Draco's face softly, causing the blond to nearly convulse, and teeter back dangerously.

"Take your filthy hands off me."

"Careful," said Bruce in concern, watching worriedly as Draco staggered, struggling not to fall. Bruce then studied Draco closely, eyes running down the blond's chest, his crotch, lingering at the single, dangerous shoe Draco wore, with it's deadly seven inch long talon of a heel.

"Aren't you a pretty one," murmured Bruce admiringly. His eyes shot up to meet Draco's. "So, Cinderella boy. Want to be my princess so I can be your Prince Charming?"

Draco stared at him in horror.

Oh, it all sunk in. This was supposed to be his bloody bachelor party, and here he was, stuck in this insane club, surrounded by men that were eyeing him like a piece of freshly cut meat, to be ravaged with passion.

He'd met a man dressed in a goddamn dress, who claimed to be his fairy godmother, and had granted him access to a freaking Prince Charming—the Prince Charming who was now casting lusty looks at his crotch.

This was unreal.

"No," snapped Draco, feeling slightly hysterical. "No, I don't want to be your...your Cinderella." He actually shuddered violently, causing Bruce to look even more worried. "I am Draco Malfoy, and I came here in the vain hopes of enjoying one of my last nights as an unmarried man. But since that's not possible—" he paused bitterly, turning away "—I think you should just take a few large steps away from me and continue to seek people of your own orientation."

Bruce looked extremely hurt. "But darling I—don't you want—you look so distraught, love, I want to help..."

Draco shot him a single, icy look.

"All...all right, then. I'll be off..." Bruce started to walk away, before adding uncertainly, "If you ever feel...lonely, though...I'll be right across the room."

Draco sighed in relief as the man strolled away despondently, the light glinting off his velvet thong. Blaise was no where to be seen—he deeply regretted hopping away in that fit of rage at this point—and he didn't have the strength to go looking for him now. He'd been truly traumatized by this, to a point where he really couldn't wait to go home and get married.

He turned, embittered, to his fairy godmother, who was regarding him with some disdain.

"Get me fire-whiskey. The strongest you have. I want the bottle," added Draco rudely.

Grabbing it before his fairy godmother could even offer it to him, Draco took a deep breath, and clutching the bottle like his last chance at life, tipped his head back and gulped down the entire contents.

When he was done, and it felt like there was a fire in his tummy and jelly in his head, Draco turned groggily to his sullen fairy godmother, and said slyly, "I like the dress. I think my girlfriend owns something like it."

"Really?" said the barman with mild interest, fingering the glittering neckline. "I like it, too."

"Yes, it's very pretty. I'd compare it to lipstick on a gorilla, actually."

And then Draco slid down the stool, and promptly passed out on the ground. Thankfully, he wasn't conscious to see Bruce make his way worriedly towards him, and lean down over his unconscious form.

"He's out," croaked Bruce tragically. "My Cinderalla's passed out drunk."

"Wake up, Cinderella."

When Draco opened his eyes blearily against the sting of light and wave of nausea, and saw Ginny grinning down at him, he nearly passed out again.

"Oh, no you don't," she laughed, pulling his cheek playfully. "You've slept enough."

"Considering what I've been through, I think I'm entitled to a lifetime of slumber."

"But that's the wrong fairy tale—you're not Sleeping Beauty. You're Cinderella." She laughed again.

"Don't remind me," he snapped, shivering slightly. "I'm in a very delicate situation here."

"But you are Cinderella! You were unhappy, but were granted a wish and met Prince Charming." Ginny leant down to kiss his forehead, smiling against his skin. "If that isn't a happy ending, what is? Oh—" she snickered "—and you're also wearing women's footwear." She reached down to tug at his foot, still encased in the death trap. "Ah, Jimmy Choos! Very pretty, Draco!"

Draco made a growling sound and suddenly sat up, ignoring the dizzying swim of everything around him. "I told you to shut up, Ginevra," he said coldly.

"Aw, Draco, don't be mad at me!" Ginny leant closer, and touched his grumpy face, grinning devilishly. "I'm your only chance, you know, you wouldn't want to mess it all up."

"What on earth could you possibly mean by that?"

"See, you met your Prince Charming, but you didn't like him very much." She giggled. "You're a fussy Cinderella. Anyway, Prince Charming doesn't find the other shoe, though I know that doesn't make sense."

Draco scowled in disgust. "What?"

Ginny smirked, reached under the bed, and came out with another glossy Jimmy Choo, her fingers twined around the sharp, metallic heel.

Ignoring Draco's look of horror, she tugged up his other foot, shoving it deftly into the pair of the murder weapon.

"There!" she sang, her brown eyes twinkling. "Now Cinderella gets the happy ending, and both Jimmy Choos!"

Draco glowered silently at her for a moment. He turned back for a moment to punch his cushions fiercely a couple of times, and then he shot a speculative look at Ginny.

Without warning, he grabbed her arms and brought her on top of him, and they both tumbled into the sofa.

"Here, take your bloody happy ending," growled Draco as he rolled her beneath him, feeling slightly satisfied when she gasped in surprise. Promptly, he leant in to crush his lips to hers, winding her hair through his fingers and ignoring her feeble protests.

Soon enough, the ending was pretty much as happy as it could get.

When they broke apart, Draco easily tore off her dress, whispering into her ear as she giggled, "And they lived lustfully ever after..."

A/N: I have to admit, I had a tough time writing this one. I made it too long, and rewrote it many times...I'm still not completely over my writer's block, you know. *looks pathetic*

Ellie, what do you think? :D

Anyway. I like the idea of Blaise saying 'cher', even if I do say so myself. :P

Please do review, people!

~starlit skyes