Well, this is just a quick little one shot that I wrote to cheer me up through all the depressing hours of revision. I should have probably been revising...but oh well :)

I probably won't continue it...but I quite like the personality of Malfoy in this so I may decide to.

Let me know what you think!

Oh god. Who is that handsome devil with the perfectly coiffed hair and the expensive sleek school robes?

How is it that his cheekbones are so pleasantly defined with a manly edge, and just a dash of aristocrat? And how is it possible for someone to have such fabulously toned arms?

I think it should be made entirely illegal to be that good looking. It should be a punishable offence to look that suave and demure. He is verging on being male model material he is that damn beautiful.

I blink.

The god blinks.

Oh yes? Did I mention that the god is myself? I must be the luckiest guy on earth looking this good every day.

"Do you want to stop admiring your reflection in the train window about now and explain to me why that troll Weasley is playing tonsil hockey with Ernest Longbottom." Elizabeth Goyle steps painfully on my foot, leaving a nasty dirt imprint on my 300 galleon Italian loafers. I decide to let it go, seeing as I am feeling so loving and polite today.

And I am in complete unadulterated shock.

"Troll. Longbottom. Hockey. TONSIL?" I squeak, perhaps a little too loudly, as I am reminded by Goyle who unceremoniously, and in an entirely undignified manner, punches me in the gut. I subtly turn around, without revealing the fact that my internal organs are probably suffering severe bleeding at the moment, and am faced with the most repulsive sight I have ever had the misfortune to look upon.

Weasley plus Longbottom plus saliva exchange equals REVOLTED MALFOY. I think I may soon be sick.

"It's disgusting isn't it? I didn't even know that troll knew what boys were," Elizabeth states conversationally, regarding them with a strange expression. "Do you reckon she paid him?"

"LIZZIE!" An ungodly shriek pierces the air, and it can only belong to one person – Mrs Goyle.

Elizabeth frowns and rolls her eyes. "The mother calls. I'll see you on the train."

And now she has abandoned me. I am left standing on this platform on my entire lonesome. Well, lonesome except for my parents who have decided to join me after they ran back to the car because mother forgot her handbag.

"Dear god. Is that a Weasley lip locking with a Longbottom?" My father says, and the slight cackle that follows this announcement suggests that this amuses him. It appears to amuse him as much as it revolts me.

I nod, an expression of total abhorrence plastered over my godly features. "Don't keep drawing my attention to it, I'm starting to feel incredibly ill all of a sudden."

The situation has, if that were possible, got worse. Longbottom's scrawny little Herbology-loving hands are on her bum. Sickening. Truly sickening.

If I were to do that to her she would transfigure me into the smelliest rodent she could think of and then trap me in the U-bend of Professor Longbottom's lavatory. Or maybe she would lock me in his 'fertiliser' pot. I say 'fertiliser' in such a manner, because that stupid Longbottom creature doesn't even put fertiliser in it. He puts dung from the various magical creatures in our school in it.

"Jealous that even Longbottom could get a girl and you couldn't, eh?" My father asks, once again displaying his uncanny knack of misreading every situation and pretending to be funny.

"Why would I be jealous of Longbottom? He is touching that ginger freak's bottom, and that is something I would give my entire inheritance to avoid."

My father grins. My mother casts a suspicious look in Weasley's direction and THANK GOD her gingerness and Longbottom have stopped procreating in public. Before I can even distract mother with promises of sending her letters detailing every single homework assignment I get, she has given my father an odd looking smirk and marched over to the ginger end of the platform.

It actually has an odd glow to it, it is full of that many gingers.

"Where is she going?" I demand, panicked. Oh dear. She is shaking Weasley's hand. Weasley is smiling. "What is she saying?" Weasley is laughing. I put my head in my hands. "She's telling her about when I flew my first broom into that tree and cried for a week because my nose was injured isn't she?"

Oh god.

Oh god.

Goodbye reputation. Adieu respect from all lower years. Farewell female company.

My mother returns looking immensely pleased with herself and she embraces me so I am engulfed by her perfume. "I'll see you at Christmas, Scorpykins!"

A nearby second year bursts into fits of giggles as he walks past. Stupid little midget. Can't he see its not my fault I descend from such lunatics?

"Bye," I grunt reluctantly. Feeling great relief when the whistle blows and finally I have an excuse to escape from this mental anguish. You would think that being pureblood would make us refined and formal as a family, but for some reason we appear, excluding myself, to be only fit for the loony bin.

The second the train starts moving, and the sight of my mother weeping tears of delight that I am finally on my way to my last year of school has vanished from view, I decide what I am going to do.

I am going to talk with that short little ginger Weasley girl. Firstly to demand why she must insist on blinding us all with basically doing the deed with Longbottom in a public place, and secondly to get her to tell me what my mother talked to her about.

"Weasley, I need to talk to you." Every ginger head in the compartment turns to me. Oh dear. I forget sometimes they are all Weasleys. For me, the only true weasel is Rose Weasley. "I meant you." I point at my chosen Weasley.

"Malfoy?" she asks sweetly.

"Yes, you little ginger weirdo?"

"Piss off." She returns to reading her book, or more likely textbook, and pretends that I am not standing in this doorway giving the compartment a heavenly glow. I know she is pretending, because what girl, hideous troll or not, can resist the Malfoy charms and sparkly eyes?

"Get up or I will personally haul you out of here," I tell her, relatively calmly considering my present state of mind. "And I cannot garuntee that all your limbs will remain attached if I do."

"Rose, can you shut the compartment door please? There's a bit of a draught," Potter says. And I can see the sneaky little Slytherin-esque smirk that he has when he says that. Weasley jumps up and faces me, though she acts as though she can't even see me.

I hate her so much.

"You are so pathetic," I inform her. She pretends not to have heard me, and just grabs the handle of the door and heaves it with all of the force her tiny body can muster so that it slides shut...

"AAAAARGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH! MY NOOOSSEEEE!"

OH. MY. SWEET. MERLIN.

My face is irreparable. It is irreplaceable. If I lose my looks I will have nothing else! (Apart from intelligence, sparkling wit and endless wealth, of course). I clasp a hand to my nose, just to check that it hasn't actually been chopped off with the force she closed that bloody compartment door with.

"Nice work, Rosie!" I hear Potter say through fits of laughter, as the compartment door slides open and then shuts again.

"Soo...what did you need to talk about?"

That heartless, callous witch. Can she not see that I am crippled in agony? Is she unaware that she has mutilated my beauty, perhaps permanently?

"HELLO? IS IT NOT OBVIOUS THAT YOU HAVE MURDERED ME?"

She lifts one eyebrow at my outburst. "Oh come on, you wimp. It's only a little bump, and anyway, you've only got me for about..." She peers at her watch. "...two minutes. So you better be quick. I have more important things to be doing."

"A BUMP? This 'bump' is going to need reconstructive surgery!" I manage to lift myself so I am standing at my full height, but still clasping my nose in case it suddenly drops off. "And by more important things, are you referring to shagging Longbottom?"

I think she was about to turn around and give up trying to talk to me, but she spins back around again. I was expecting her to be outraged, and maybe wallop me over the head as she would have done in the past, but when she turned back round again she had the most Slytherin-ey smirk I have seen since...well, since I looked in the mirror.

"Jealous, Malfoy? I didn't know gingers were your cup of tea."

Why does everyone think I am jealous of bloody Longbottom? I couldn't be jealous of someone with such a stupid name as LONGBOTTOM if I TRIED.

"I'm sorry to inform you, weasel-face, but I am NOT jealous. In fact I would never be jealous of Longbottom. He has nothing that I would ever be jealous of...In fact, I can guarantee he will never have something that I would ever be jealous of..."

"He's head boy, you know."

WHAT?

It was bad enough that I wasn't chosen to be Head Boy. Let's face it, I am the best looking and most charming, and most intelligent of all the seventh year boys, but that fact that LONGBOTTOM got it when I didn't?

WHAT IS HAPPENING WITH THE WORLD?

Longbottom is Head Boy.

Longbottom's girlfriend is Weasley.

Longbottom has touched Weasley's bum.

Longbottom is probably shagging Weasley.

Before I can even verbally express my loathing of that nancy boy, Weasley has spoken again. "Yeah...And I'm Head Girl."

That's it. Longbottom is going DOWN. DOWN I TELL YOU.

My Slytherin mind will begin plotting as soon I have spoken to a plastic surgeon about my poor nose.

"Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about? You've never expressed an interest in talking to me ever before...Are you sure you're not jealous?" She is looking too pleased about all of this.

"I am NOT jealous."

"Nah...you're just in denial."

I clutch my nose, and try not to stamp my foot in annoyance. I have never known anyone so damn IRRITATING. "I just wanted to ask what my mother was talking to you about."

She folds her arms and grins. "Sorry. If I told you I'd have to kill you."

"Be my guest. Life isn't worth living any more," I mutter, almost imperceptibly.

"What did you say?"

I must depart now. Before I say anything else entirely stupid. "I said, FINE. But I will get it out of you."

She rolls her eyes. "How, exactly? I'm not falling for stupid tricks like you spiking my pumpkin juice with veritaserum."

"Ways and means, Weasley. Ways and means." Deciding that this was a sufficiently dramatic exit, I try to walk away in a dignified manner whilst still clutching my nose. "Oh and Weasley?"

"What?"

"In future, can you refrain from procreating with Longbottom in public. I almost puked over my new Armani suitcase."

Weasley starts laughing. Laughing.

Oh buggery buggerations. I'm actually jealous, aren't I? I am actually bloody jealous of someone called LONGBOTTOM. Of someone whose name suggests an elongated arse. Not only that, I am jealous because he is HEAD BOY, and I am not.

And I am jealous because he has touched Weasley's bum.

Why am I jealous because he has touched Weasley's bum?

It's official. I have inherited the pureblood lunatic gene from my parental units. Do you know what this means? This means I will have to lower myself to marrying a non-pureblood for the sake of my children's sanity.

Weasley isn't a pureblood is she? Oh god. I need firewhiskey. And I need it now.

"ZABINI!" I cry, falling into the seventh year Slytherin compartment. "I need your help."

"Why is your nose bright red?" Zabini asks, regarding my face with interest.

I snort. "Weasley shut a door on it. Anyway, I need your help. Stop drawing your attention back to my intensely attractive form."

Zabini blinks at me.
"You know...I never thought I would ever hear you say that. I never honestly thought I would see the day when you didn't want to discuss your godly appearance."

I narrow my eyes at me. "Well, today I have far more pressing matters."

Goyle stops staring aimlessly out of the window and turns to me in surprise, with a bit of amusement mixed up in her surprise. "Who are you? Because you are not Scorpius Malfoy."

I chose to ignore this remark.

"What do you need my help with? It can't be a girl problem, because you have enough experience in that arena, if you know what I mean."

"Of course it's not a girl problem," I inform him. Then I take a deep breath. "I need you to help me make Longbottom lose his Head Boy title."

Zabini smirks at me. "And why would that be?"

Elizabeth chuckles slightly. "Yeah, Malfoy? Why would that be? Could it possibly have anything to do with his bum groping earlier on, with a certain red-head we all know and...?"

"Hate?"

Zabini smirks even harder. "In your case, mate, I think it's FANCY."

I give him a look.

"Of course, I'll help you. I'm sure Goyle will too...what with her newfound love of...Herbology..."

Goyle turns slightly red. "What does Goyle's subject choice have anything to do with this?" I demand.

"Just ignore Zabini, Scorpykins." She throws Zabini a dirty look. I have a feeling I am missing something here. "We'll both help you...if you admit you like her."

"I don't like her. I just have an overwhelming urge to bring Longbottom down a peg or two at the moment. Maybe beat him up with a broomstick. Or lock him in a dungeon with a rogue bludger." My fists clench involuntarily and Zabini and Goyle burst into fits of laughter.

"Just say you like her," Zabini orders me. "Say you like her and we'll help you."

As a Slytherin, I suppose it is my prerogative to lie to get what I want. And what I want is Longbottom's hand chopped off so he can't grab other people's less long bottoms.

"Fine... I..." I lower my voice about 300 decibels. "I like...her."

"Pardon?" Goyle says, cupping a hand around one of ears and leaning in. "Didn't quite catch that."

"I...er...like her..." I say a little bit louder.

"Sorry, mate, did you just say something?" Zabini says. Oh god. I hate my friends.

They are verging on being worse than my intolerable family.

"I BLOODY LIKE HER YOU STUPID ITALIAN TWIT!"

It was just my luck that Potter happened to be walking past the door at that point and threw me the most freaked out glance I have ever received in my entire life. My reputation of being debonair has gone entirely out of the window now.

"Alohamora."

Well, I kind of knew that wasn't going to work.

"What on earth are you trying to do...are you trying to break in?" The lady in the portrait says waking up from an apparently deep sleep. She yawns and then catches sight of my face.

Or I should say my heavenly face.

She flutters her eyelashes and rearranges her hair quickly. "And who might this be? Another Malfoy?"

Looks like I'm going to have to sweet talk the portrait lady to let me in, given that the whole 'alohamora' thing didn't work out.

"Indeed it is. And I was wondering if you could just do me a little favour. You see, my friend, Rose, left her Herbology textbook up here and I said I would collect it for her...do you think you could let me in?"

The lady lifts her eyebrows. "What's in it for me?"

"The honour of knowing you have helped a boy in need." I smile beatifically. "By the way, has anyone ever told you how..." I search around for a word, "...ravishing you look?"

The lady blushes beetroot red. BINGO. "Oh...well...No one's told me that in over 500 years..." She looks thoughtful for a second. "In you go then, you handsome devil."

Ewwwww.

OK. Now that I am safely in the Head's quarters it is time to put this plan in action. One common room destruction coming right up! Zabini better be right about this whole ruining the head's common room and then blaming it on Longbottom thing.

I lift up my wand when I hear the portrait talking again, and that can only mean one of two things: Either the portrait has lost even more of her marbles and has started talking to herself, or someone is coming.

And given that the portrait is now swinging open that means it's the latter.

SHIT. HIDE! Look...door on left. I jump over to the door and ran inside the room. It was a bedroom that was fairly tidy except for the floor that was littered with books and ...hold on...is that a bra?

Crap, this is Weasley's room. Unless...

I DO NOT WANT TO THINK ABOUT THAT.

I can't go out now though. I need to hide somewhere...The cupboard! Oh bugger, it's way too small. I will get severe back injury if I try to squeeze into that. Alright then...under the bed it is.

I have just managed to fit myself under the bed, unfortunately disrupting the perfection that is my hair in the process, but one has to suffer to cause misery and despair to Longbottoms, when the door to this room opens and someone with small feet and wearing jeans walks in. That is the extent of my vision from under here.

The feet/ankle area.

Oh no.

The jeans are now being removed. Must remain SILENT or my favourite appendage will be cursed off by a half-dressed Weasley.

Half-dressed Weasley? Now, why does that sound suddenly so appealing... A t-shirt has just fallen to the ground.

Shame my line of vision is limited to the feet area really.

A soft thud indicates that Weasley is being her usual clumsy self and has knocked something to the floor. Which means in a minute she is going to pick it up. Which means...In my absolute panic, I thud my head painfully against the underside of the bed and accidentally let out a strangled cry of pain.

"WHO'S THERE?" Weasley's voice screeches. Then she kneels down and peers under the bed, and can I just say the angle of her...assets...isn't remotely unpleasant.

Who knew she was hiding them under her enormous baggy jumpers?

Apart from Longbottom of course.

"MALFOY?"

I smile awkwardly. "Don't move darling, you're giving me a good view here." Her face vanishes instantly as she jumps up.

"GET OUT OF HERE NOW!"

No need to shout. I am moving, I think to myself as I shuffle sideways and get out from under the bed. My hair must look incredibly awful...and OH MY GOD! Is that a speck of dust on my jumper? I need to get this cleaned!

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?" Oh dear. Weasley looks furious. Though can I just say that a furious Weasley in only bra and knickers is certainly not an unpleasant sight. It's infinitely better than a fully-dressed furious Weasley with access to a wand, and a lifetime's knowledge of hexes.

"I can explain," I tell her, holding my hands up in front of me to indicate my innocence. But, she is not giving me the benefit of the doubt, clearly, and before I can explain myself I am wet.
Very wet.

She appears to have thrown a jug of orange juice on my entire body.

"WHA T WAS THAT FOR?"

She puts the jug back down on the ground. "WHY ARE YOU IN MY ROOM? AND...um...WHY ARE YOU STRIPPING IN MY ROOM?"

Yes, that is right. The jumper is coming off. It has been soiled from the dust under the bed, and the horrendous orange juice she decided to fling at me and therefore cannot touch my beautiful skin. OH GOD! It's soaked through to my shirt!

Looks like that will have to come off too.

"Do you know how much these clothes cost?" I ask her. She looks at me blankly, as I calmly remove my shirt. "TOO MUCH TO HAVE ORANGE JUICE THROWN AT THEM, THAT'S HOW MUCH!" I lift my shirt up and wring it out over her feet, to emphasise the point that they are completely ruined.

And so is her carpet now. But she deserves it for throwing juice at me. Honestly, what kind of childish thing is that to do!

"If you remove your trousers I am going to kill you."

"Well, look away then. And find me a change of clothes." I tell her. She looks like she is about to vomit. "And don't look at me like that, you're the one that ruined my clothes. Now you have to pay the consequences."

"HELLO? You were HIDING UNDER MY BED! AND SERIOUSLY...PUT YOUR TROUSERS BACK ON!" She lifts a hand to cover her eyes.

"But..."

"I DON'T CARE IF THEY'RE WET! I DO NOT WANT TO SEE YOUR SCRAWNY PALE LEGS AND YOUR..." She opens her eyes to find her way to her wardrobe. A second later a pair of scratty, grubby tracksuit bottoms are flying through the air and whacking me on the face. "PLEASE put them on!"

I pull them on quickly, happy to be dry, although my skin is already tingling from touching such badly made and clearly unclean garments.

"Now, I am going to try remain calm now, and YOU are going to tell me WHY exactly you were hiding underneath my bed, alright?" She snaps, grabbing a blanket from off her bed and covering her dignity (and other things) with it.

"I thought it was Longbottom's bed."

"You're digging yourself a deeper hole right now," she says, surpressing a smirk.

"You're worse than bloody Zabini! I am NOT GAY alright! I am JEALOUS because that git with the LONG ARSE has gone and stolen the Head Boy badge from me and YOU are letting him FEEL UP YOUR BUM! So I have decided to sabotage him!"

Silence.

"Why did I just tell you that?"

"That was the orange juice you sneaked into the Head's rooms the other week with veritaserum in it," Weasley informs me with a grin. "And if I am right, which I usually am, veritaserum strengthens the longer it is kept and can eventually cause its effect if it touches the skin of a target."

"I hate my life."

"So, tell me, why are you jealous of Longbottom again?" she asks, giving the impression of a pleasant person – not someone that has just tricked someone into speaking the truth.

"He's SHAGGING YOU. And...you know, he's Head Boy."

"ROSIEEE!" Longbottom's nasty Gryffindor tone hits our ears.

"CRAP! There is no way you are staying in here, you are HALF NAKED. Go back to your dorm or I will give you detentions for rest of the school year," she says, standing up and clasping her blanket tight around her shoulders.

"But what if Longbottom sees-"

"Don't let him see!"

And I am hauled unceremoniously out of her room and flung on the ground, before my shirt, jumper and trousers are flung at my head. "And if you ever undress in front of me again I will MURDER you in your sleep," she growls, looking like she means business. Remind me never to cross her ever again.

The door slams in my face, and almost simultaneously Longbottom's door opens. "Hey, Rosie! Guess wha ...MALFOY?"

I jump up and scoop my drenched clothing in my arms, taking care to keep them a good distance away. "Oh, hi, Longbottom," I say calmly. Longbottom looks at me for a good few seconds, and you can basically see the cogs of his mind working. Topless Malfoy equals Unhappy Longbottom.

"Were you here to see Rose?"

I try to say no, because I do not want to be murdered by Weasley and/or Longbottom (he is not looking particularly happy right now)...but remember VERITASERUM WINS ALL. "Yes."

Oh poo. This stupid plot to sneak into the Head's common room completely backfired on me.

That was the sentiment I was contemplating when Longbottom's scrawny soil coated fist collides with my face.

Longbottom 1: Malfoy 0