Draconis: A Satire

Chapter Three: The Introduction

“Amy, if you don’t stop cursing that kid so he ‘understands the technique’, I am not responsible for the consequences.”
Ginny cringed a little inside as she shouted these suicidal words, but smirked at her version of the Dark Arts teacher’s name. (Everybody called it Dark Arts nowadays. The name was technically “Offense Against the Dark Arts”, but nobody didn’t know what it meant.) Her outburst had the desired effect: Professor Carrow lowered his wand from its position towards the poor child and looked at her instead.
“Weasley, how many times have you questioned my teaching methods?”
“Twenty-seven,” Luna said.
Professor Carrow growled a little at Luna, but then turned back to Ginny. “And how many times have I given you the Cruciatus curse for doing so?”
“Twenty-eight,” Ginny grumbled.
“Exactly. Now, stay right where you are…”
“Locomotor ornatus penknives!” Luna whispered, holding her wand beneath the desk. Neville’s knives floated out of her bag and dispersed themselves over all of the classroom’s desks – teacher’s included. D… they carved. A…
Carrow took a moment to remember all the reasons why the insolent girl deserved this, just to be sure that the spell would work.
Meeting…
“Crucio!”
2mRO…
Ginny screamed. (Writing anything more than “Ginny screamed” would be a futile attempt to describe the anguish of her cries, the woe that most of her classmates felt at her plight, and the sheer pain of that spell which, fortunately, none of the readers shall ever experience. Really futile.)
…nite!!!
“Accio penknives,” Luna said, and the knives all rushed back to her desk.

---

As Ginny walked, she kept her head down to conceal the grin on her face. Her body was still racked with pain, but the look on Carrow’s face had been totally worth it. Anybody who had actually seen her grin probably would have been crept out, like that little kid who jumped away when she said “shut up” last night.
Wait, last night. Why was she suddenly feeling like that would become relevant again? Ginny wondered for a second. Then she felt her hand being picked up, and she looked down to see Draco Malfoy – a stunningly silvery, shockingly attractive Draco Malfoy – kneeling in front of her, kissing her hand.
Well. Her hunch was right.
“Virginia…” He kissed her wrist and then her forearm.
“Ginevra!” Ginny snapped, jerking her hand away.
“Virginia…” Draco repeated, rising and pressing his lips to her neck.
“What are you doing?” She ran to the other side of the corridor, but he followed her.
“Oh,” Malfoy said. “I forgot to introduce myself.” His voice sounded extremely British – of course, it was British the rest of the time, but he seemed to sound even more aristocratic, and the rough, cruel edge had been worn away.
“I already know your name!” Ginny was shaking a little; she was feeling hot under the collar. “Draco Malfoy! And you have no reason to be hanging around me so much! You’re a bully, and furthermore you dislike me!”
“Draconis,” he said.
“What?” Ginny was caught off guard.
“Draconis,” he repeated. “Draconis Abraxas Malfoy, right foot of the Dark Lord, prince of Slytherin house, heir to a billion and one galleons, and the sexiest wizard in Europe, at your service.”
“…What?”
“I’m Draconis,” Draconis said, his sibilant voice acquiring a harsh note of irritation. “You do recall when lightening struck that house of yours, yes?”
“Uhuh..” Ginny skeptically blinked.
“Well, Buffy the Vampire Slayer was on, and I was within a 200-mile radius. So I became a vampire.” Draconis frowned. “Or a werewolf.” He furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. “Or maybe a veela.”
Ginny gave up all semblance of pretending to understand what he was talking about and leaned against the wall. She was feeling very sleepy.
“And if you ever saw me in the sunlight, I would sparkle, but you can’t, because, well, I don’t show up then. That’s Draco in the sunlight.”
Her mind somehow managed to latch on to something. “Wait. Speaking of names, why did you call me Virginia?”
Draconis smiled. “It’s fanon, darling. That’s what binds this whole operation together. Without it, I’d be that spineless loser you know and hate. The technical explanation involves a several-minute lecture about psychology, literature, ginger discrimination, lunar phases, and infinite improbability. I’d be smart enough to understand it, because the fangirls would like me to be, but you wouldn’t, because you are a Quidditch- and Harry-crazed slag. Oh, and it’s also why you sound merely curious as opposed to the amusingly rhyming furious and your wand is not out of your pocket and pointed at – SWEET MOTHER OF GOD!”
Ginny moved her hand forward as if she were punching him, and thought something very hard in her head.
Nothing happened.
Draconis laughed. “The shield charm! It works! I am magicaaaaaaaaaaaaaallll so I can do aaaaaaaaanything—”
“Next you’ll be telling me you know everything, too – wait, you already did.”
“Anyway, it’s fanon. Fanon does wonders. It makes me tall and attractive and part-veela and anything else a girl could ever want.”
“You said you were those things already. You also said that if I ever saw you in the sunlight, you would sparkle.”
“Well, that too. But you won’t. Because I’m the real person during the day. Except not. Gosh, why is this so confusing?”
“Love is a many trousered thing.” Ginny said this quite casually, then clapped a hand over her mouth. “Wait, I wasn’t thinking anything like that! And it doesn’t fit into the conversation!” She then frowned and glared at her hand. “And I’m not the type to clap my hand over my mouth.”
Draconis smirked. “I almost forgot that: Everything about me is contagious, especially fanon. That trouser thing was just plagiarism. It’s left over from a past life of mine that involved a lot of wanking on the part of the owner and ended up traumatizing the few people watching that still maintained some logic.”
“Wait. I thought you came into existence when lightening struck my house.”
“That’s the cover story.”
“Uhuh…” She grimaced a little in confusion.
“See, I am really made of desire.”
“I thought you were just a veela or a werewolf or something. Or infinitely ginger phased.”
“Shhhhhh; for that to be true, logic would need to be involved. I say things that can’t possibly make sense because they should.”
“…Like that.”
“Yes. Like what I just said.”
There was a pause, and then his lips smashed onto hers and his tongue was caressing the roof of her mouth. They parted a year later and Ginny tried to slap him, but his hand caught hers and gently brought it down.
“And I have to kiss you frequently, too. But we never get to shag. I am severely disappointed about that.”
“Wait, you’re on a job?”
“Yes. I mentioned that during the bit with the plagiarism.”
“I thought that there was infinite—”
“I told you five minutes ago that there was no logic!”
“…So how did I forget? I don’t understand this—”
“There are two reasons,” Draconis said, still holding onto her hand that had almost slapped him. “First, there isn’t continuity, either. And second…”
They kissed again. Ginny forgot to come back with something violent this time.
“Actually, it’s three.”
“Third whatever,” she hotly whispered in a voice much higher pitched than her own, claiming his lips again.

---

“The fanon is definitely affecting you,” Draconis grumbled. Ginny was half-kneeling before him and unbuttoning his tie while unknotting his shirt; exactly how she did these paradoxical things was imprecisely known.
It was rather telling that he was doing absolutely nothing to stop her.
“Forget stupid things like words!” Ginny demanded. “The only thing that matters in the world is sex and Quidditch. I thought you of all people would understand that!”
“Wait, this isn’t going correctly at all—”
“I swallow,” Ginny flatteringly insisted, batting her eyelashes in a very pathetic way.
“I prefer handjobs.”
“Oh, the horror! You’ll survive.”
“Um, it’s of vital importance that we’re both virgins?”
“Technical virginity is a wonderful thing.”
“I doubt you possess so much as that.”
“Want to find out?” she asked with a smirk.
“No. Well, yes… but I prefer my tarts without syphilis on top of God knows what else.”
“Could you ever respond to a question without needless snark?”
“I would, but I’m paralyzed with not caring very much.”
Ginny got up and put her hands on her hips. “That was plagiarism.” She seemed to have reclaimed her normal demeanor to a certain extent. Draconis concealed his relief with a smirk.
“How could you tell?”
“I took a small step, and conclusions there were.”
“Oooh, fighting plagiarism with plagiarism! How mature! I’m so scared!”
“Go to hell. Now.”
“You aren’t allowed to talk about eternal suffering. I’m a vampire.”
“I thought vampireness meant that you sparkled.” There was a pause, and then Ginny looked very confused. “Hey, wait, do you even drink blood?”
“Um.” Draconis had never thought this through. “…Maybe?”
“Because if you do, that’s so sexy,” she whispered, falling back into her half-falsetto and leaning on his chest.
“Curses,” Draconis muttered.

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