Draya Malfoy

8 - The Pervert

Wait until my father hears about this absolute lunatic teaching us Defence this year.

I was innocently reading out a snippet from the Daily Prophet for those unfortunates who couldn't afford to buy one, when Harry came along and started insulting my mother!

"That expression she's got," he taunted nastily as his green eyes flashed into mine, "like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?"

Well, I wasn't going to stand for that, of course. So, I went to defend her honour when the next thing I know I'm a stinking ferret!

The pain and humiliation was intolerable as Professor Moody began to bounce me into the air so that I was unable to decipher which way was up and which way was down. I tried to scream for help but all that came from my mouth were terrified squeaks which just made everyone howl with laughter.

Every time I hit the floor, pain shot through me making me feel nauseous. I had never felt so frightened in my life, convinced I was going to die like this.

And to make matters even worse, I was quite clearly a naked ferret too, as my school attire was abandoned in a messy pile on the ground, something which Professor McGonagall didn't think about when she transfigured me back to my human self in front of the entire school... ten feet away from my clothes.

"LOOK! DRAYA MALFOY HAS TITTIES!"

I desperately tried to cover myself up with my arms as the Great Hall erupted into laughter. I was mortified, my vision blurring with tears as I looked desperately around for help. Crabbe and Goyle were no use, both of whom were going bright red as they backed away from me. Only Blaise was kind enough to sweep over and quickly shake off his outer robes to wrap around me.

"For fuck's sake," he thundered, glaring at Moody. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned," Moody growled unapologetically, his fake eye whizzing around wildly in its socket. "Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do."

"Professor Moody!" McGonagall said shrilly, her face colouring darkly. "Under no circumstances do we use that kind of punishment on the students without written permission from the headmaster!"

"Balls!" Moody spat. "I heard he sends first years into a forest full of dangerous creatures if they misbehave. This is nothing!"

"Come on," Blaise murmured kindly, protectively wrapping an arm around me as he led me away from the still laughing and pointing crowd.

Silent tears of humiliation were streaming down my face by the time we reached the sanctuary of the dungeons. I couldn't speak, not even to say thank you to Blaise, my throat too choked with sobs.

"Don't worry, he won't get away with it," Pansy said, hurrying down after us. "There's no way Dumbledore won't sack him after that."

But couldn't she see? The damage had already been done. And I had never hated Harry Potter more. Why couldn't he have just left my mother out if it?

"Well, you did call Weasley's mother fat," Theo shrugged when I moodily pointed this out in the common room later that day, "he was probably just sticking up for her."

"I said no such thing!" I gasped incredulously. "All I did was simply suggest that she might want to try out that diet which has worked wonders for Millicent - she lost five pounds last week. People just don't realise what a strain excess fat can be on your heart. I was helping."

Things did not improve. For a start, Moody seemed to have gotten away with sexually and physically assaulting a student in his care, and secondly, Harry Potter had managed to make the entire year all about him again, and we weren't even two months in.