Finding a Friend

It’s that same old D/G fic- Draco is fascinated by Ginny, Ginny resists Draco’s (nonexistent) charm... you get the point. But this time Moaning Myrtle plays matchmaker and Draco’s (hopefully) in character. Did I mention it’s funny?

Disclaimer: Sadly, not much of this is mine. That should be painfully obvious, once you read a few lines of this little story- the real owner of these characters, situations, and settings has much more talent than I do. Thank God for JKR.

 

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Life sucked.

 

Well, Draco Malfoy’s life sucked, anyway. He would ever admit that to anyone, but it was true. Sure, he had enough gold in his Gringott’s account to buy himself a third-world country, he was (in his opinion) the best looking guy in 7th year, and no one ever bothered him for fear he’d sick his psycho father on their family, but life still sucked. The worst part was that Draco could not, for the life of him, figure out why.

It just didn’t make any sense. He had everything anyone could ever dream of! He was admired by many (or feared, he could never really tell the difference), respected by more (or that could have also been fear, now that he thought about it), worshipped by a good portion of Hogwarts’ female population (even though that probably had something to do with fear as well), and, not to mention, he was feared by more people than he could even count! Life should have been perfect! Why on Earth was he so unhappy?

This unexpected depression wouldn’t have bothered him nearly as much if everyone else had shared his sentiments. Strangely, it was quite the opposite. Looking around the Great Hall, everyone seemed to be unreasonably happy. It was completely uncalled for! The Dark Lord was out and about, they should all be miserable! They should be scared, and moping, and mourning the loss of their stupid family members! And above all, they had absolutely no right to enjoy themselves when the most influential of people (i.e., Draco Malfoy) was depressed. It simply defied all the implied rules of society and should be punishable by law. And even if all those damned happy people couldn’t be punished, something should be done about that dim-witted, cheerful, Muggle-loving fool of a Headmaster.

For when all was said and done, it really was Dumbledore’s fault.

“Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment, Tweak.”

“Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.”

“Remember Cedric Diggory.”

“I love Muggles and Scarhead.”

“blah, blah, blah”

 

The guy was sickening, really. Who did he think he was, telling all the students Hogwarts was safe, and there was nothing to worry about? Even better, ‘that dark times are upon us, which is all the more reason to live life to the fullest, enjoy every day for no one knows what tomorrow will bring’? Did he know anything? The whole reason for ‘dark times’ was to make people miserable and kill them off!

Not that Draco was completely supportive of this whole ‘Reign of Terror’ thing. It seemed like an unbelievable amount of work for something that wasn’t really worth all that much. Why would anyone want to take over all of Europe? Did Voldemort have any idea how much work it was to rule a continent? And for what? To get rid of all the Muggles and Mudbloods, just because he didn’t like them? Draco didn’t like them either, but he wasn’t risking his neck to get rid of them all. In fact, as far as Draco Malfoy was concerned, Voldemort was just as foolish as Dumbledore. Dumbledore was just slightly more annoying.

But, back to the original subject. For some unknown reason, Draco Malfoy’s life sucked, and he seemed to be the only miserable person in all of Hogwarts, besides that ugly mudblood ghost who spied on him all the time in the Prefect’s bathroom. Why, even Potter was happy!

As if to prove his point, Draco glanced across the Great Hall at the Gryffindor table, specifically to a trio of seventh years who were laughing uncontrollably at the moment. As far as Draco could tell, the redheaded member of the Dream Team (as he sarcastically called them) had made some sort of joke. The aforementioned boy (whom Draco simply called ‘Weasel’) said something else, and the three began to laugh all over again, the pathetic redhead putting his arm around his insufferable mudblood girlfriend, while the pride and joy of Hogwarts guffawed next to them.

Famous Harry Potter. He was nothing more than a spoiled little brat, if you asked Draco. It’s not like he’s ever really done anything spectacular. He was only a baby when he killed the Dark Lord the first time, and it was more his mother’s doing than his, if he was honest about it. Sure, something went on during their first year, but Draco was sure the stories were all exaggerations. And he did save the little weasel’s life in second year, but if Potter did it, it couldn’t have been all that difficult. He did manage to survive something to do with Voldemort fourth year, but he got another kid killed in the process, so Draco really couldn’t see how that was an achievement. And then there was... oh, forget it.

So, the kid was a hero. Big deal. He still shouldn’t be so damn happy. Draco’s own father was doing everything in his power to kill him. One would think he’d be smart enough to worry about that. Draco surely would be a wee bit apprehensive if Lucius Malfoy was after his life. But, Harry Potter always seemed to think he was above even the most threatening characters, and Draco supposed his father was no different (even if Draco needed to suppress a shudder when he thought of ‘Lucius’ and ‘angry’ in the same sentence).

But Potter’s superiority complex was not his concern at the moment. His concern was the laughter. It still didn’t make any sense that the most revered and despised character in the wizarding world was just sitting there at the lunch table laughing, as if none of that even mattered at all. How could he allow himself to be happy like that? If Draco were in his shoes he would certainly be more wary, more image-conscious. Sometimes he was convinced that Potter just didn’t think. The kid seemed to take that hideous scar for granted, even to forget about it at times and just try to blend in with everyone else. It was stupid, really. Why would you reduce yourself to that level if people were so willing to put you on a pedestal?

Draco was tired of trying to comprehend what went on in the mind of Harry Potter, and he suddenly felt the need to get as far away from The Boy Who Lived as possible. He made sure to place a Cauldron Cake on the table before he left the Great Hall. It would probably take Crabbe and Goyle a good ten minutes to fight over the damn thing, and by that time Draco would be long gone. He really didn’t need them following him around at the moment. Come to think about it, he really didn’t need them following him around ever. But, at the moment they were even more unwelcome than usual so Draco wasted no more time thinking about the two brainless boulders before he hastily exited the Great Hall.

 

Unfortunately, the distance between himself and a certain scarheaded boy was not enough to keep Draco’s thoughts away from him. As he himself wandered about the halls of Hogwarts his mind kept on wandering back to the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall where Potter and his stupid sidekicks were laughing, seemingly without a care in the world. How could Potter, of all people, manage to be happy when Draco Malfoy himself was positively miserable? What did Potter have that he didn’t? Well, what did Potter have at all? Draco formed a sort of checklist in his head.

Money? No, it couldn’t be that. Draco had just as much, if not more, and he was still as glum as a rainy day in Azkaban.

Fame? No, that couldn’t be it either. The Malfoy name was well known, and Potter didn’t seem to be phased by fame anyway.

Admirers? Draco was willing to bet that he had twice as many as Potter ever would, so he mentally crossed that off the checklist.

Intelligence? Draco was smarter than Potter, there was no doubt about that. He was Head Boy, second in rank only to that know-it-all mudblood, Granger. Potter couldn’t beat him in the brains department.

Quidditch talent? Nah. Potter really wasn’t that good, and Draco himself was a decent seeker, so he ruled that one out.

Good looks? Draco was grasping at straws now. There was no way in hell that Potter could be more attractive than Draco “Hogwarts’ Heartthrob” Malfoy. Naturally platinum blonde hair and smoky gray eyes beat a scarred forehead and a black mop by way of a hairdo any day.

Well, Draco had established that he was nearly perfect and that no one, not even the famous Harry Potter, could ever compare. Alas, that still left him unbelievably clueless as to why the aforementioned Gryffindor goody-goody was a thousand times more cheerful than he was.

 

What was Draco missing?

 

It was time for a change of tactics. Draco decided to look at this problem from a different angle; What made Potter so disgustingly merry? Well, Draco thought (quite intelligently, if he may say so himself), what had Potter been laughing about back in the Great Hall? He racked his brain for a few seconds before he finally came up with the answer.

Weasley.

Potter had been laughing at something the weasel had said... Granger was, too. The sickening Gryffindor trio had been chortling at something it’s least intelligent member had said. Now that Draco thought about it, the three of them were often laughing at that idiot and his sarcastic comments. Sometimes he’d see Granger in class elbowing the redhead when he made her giggle during her precious lessons. Often he and Potter would snigger behind their books in History of Magic while little miss perfect scolded them for not paying attention. Actually, now that he thought about it, even Granger made Potter laugh sometimes. And the other two would often laugh at Potter’s awful jokes as well.

 

That was the answer? Bad jokes and pathetic sarcastic comments? There had to be something he was missing. Draco thought about it long and hard, meandering aimlessly through the many halls of Hogwarts, when it finally occurred to him.

 

It wasn’t the attempted jokes, or the feeble cynicisms. It was who was telling them.

 

No, Weasley and Granger weren’t important. What was important was that Potter happened to like them. The intolerable hero was never without his beloved sidekicks. He and Weasley were together 24/7... which opened up a whole new can of ‘disturbing’ now that he thought about it. Just how close were those two? More importantly, did Granger know? Draco wasn’t positive which of the two she was actually with, but he was sure that she’d be peeved if he mentioned something about their inseparableness next time he insulted her.... but back to what was really important. Potter was always with his friends, and no matter how loathsome Draco considered them to be Potter enjoyed their company.

So, it wasn’t Dumbledore who he should be blaming for Potter’s good mood. It was the mudblood and the weasel.

 

And that, indeed, was what Scarhead had that Draco didn’t.

 

Friends.

 

So, all he had to do to cheer himself up was find a friend? That shouldn’t be all that difficult. After all, Potter had two. They couldn’t be all that hard to find if someone like Saint Potter managed to get more than one. Already feeling slightly better, Draco mulled over what he had planned for the following day.

Tomorrow:

-Suck up to Snape.

-Ditch Crabbe and Goyle as often as possible.

-Try to get that oaf they call a groundskeeper fired.

-Tease Granger about her hair and her parents.

-Write to Mother, so that she doesn’t worry.

-Spread rumor that Potter and Weasley are closer than they let on.

-Find one of those ‘friend’ things.

 

And with that, Draco Malfoy headed back to the Slytherin Common Room to relax a bit before Dumb and Dumber (A.K.A. Crabbe and Goyle) managed to find him. He had a busy day planned for tomorrow, and he needed his beauty rest.

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