A Plan Is Born
It is October 1, and some arsehole has set up Christmas decorations.
Christmas decorations! In October! It’s bloody mad, is what it is. Perhaps the worst part is that this villain lives only two doors down. Every time Draco Malfoy leaves his house, he is positively assaulted by the flashy red and green decor that some fool decided to set up two months early. He doesn’t even like red, and he’s of the opinion that it goes very poorly with green. His mother would never stand for such clashing colors, and she raised him too well to put up with it either. Orange isn’t much better than red, but at least it fits the time of year it is.
Blaise and Pansy don’t seem to share his pain. “It’s not even Halloween yet,” Draco complains. “How are we ignoring this- this slight against our neighborhood?” He pretends he doesn’t notice Blaise mouthing, ‘this slight,’ to Pansy as she wiggles her eyebrows in reply. Honestly, his friends are so unsupportive.
“Draco, dear,” Pansy sighs, “don’t you think you’re being overdramatic? It’s just a snowman.”
“Plus a sled and a reindeer,” Blaise adds helpfully. They’re completely ignoring the fact that the color scheme is all wrong. He doesn’t know why he even bothers to keep them around.
“I’m not being overdramatic,” he scoffs. “If anything, I’m being underdramatic.” He resolutely ignores Blaise’s quiet, “that’s not a word,” and Pansy’s accompanying pat of his hand. “This is a crime! It was 20 degrees yesterday, for goodness’ sake. What’s next, Christmas songs in stores? A Christmas tree in the square?”
“You look like you need to calm down,” Blaise soothes. Draco’s head shoots up. He sends his best friend a warning glare. It does nothing. “How about I make you some hot chocolate?”
Pansy loses the battle to hold in her giggles, adding, “We can get you some marshmallows too!”
He scowls at them indignantly. “This is not a laughing matter!”
“I don’t know, Pansy,” Blaise says seriously. “Maybe he’s right. There’s snow reason to hurt his feelings.”
Pansy doubles over cackling, holding on to Blaise so as to keep from falling from her chair. Draco frowns at them petulantly. Sometimes he hates his friends.
“You know what? Just for that, I’m going to do something about this.”
His friends stop laughing and send each other concerned looks. “Draco,” Pansy says slowly, “what are you planning to do?”
“I mean, unless you’re planning to start a Homeowners Association, I don’t see what you could…” Blaise trails off as Pansy punches his arm. Draco’s eyes light up, and they watch warily as he stands up from his chair.
“Why would you say that,” she hisses. She gestures at Draco, who barely hears her, lost in thought. “Look what you’ve done.”
Draco paces the room, deep in his evil plans. Yes, he muses, all he has to do…
“Draco,” Pansy asks cautiously, “you’re not planning to start a Homeowners Association, are you?”
“No, of course not,” he scoffs dismissively, waving a hand about. She and Blaise sigh in relief, but tense up again as he continues, “Why would I start one when I can just fake one?”
They exchange confused glances. Blaise says, “You’ve lost us, mate.”
He stops and turns to face them. “I don’t need to start one, I just need to make this arsehole believe there’s one.”
“Isn’t that- illegal?” Pansy offers.
“Blaise, your mother is the best lawyer around. I’m not worried.”
“What makes you think she’ll help you?”
“Please, Zara loves me. Plus, I’m rich,” he smirks.
“And humble, to boot,” Pansy mutters.
“So I’m the new president of the Homeowner’s Association,” he concludes.
“Do you really think you can sell this by yourself?” Blaise asks dubiously. Draco turns to him, a light in his eyes. Blaise shakes his head immediately. “No. No way.”
Draco strides across the room, grasping Blaise’s hands in his. “Blaise. Dear Blaise.”
“Get a room,” Pansy calls. Draco doesn’t even look at her, staring deep into his other friend’s soul pleadingly.
“No,” Blaise insists, trying to pull free. Draco doesn’t let him.
“If I had a vice president-”
“No-”
“It would be so much more believable-”
“Absolutely not-”
“What if I paid you?”
“Mate, I’m almost as rich as you.”
“What if I got you a date?”
“...with whom.”
Pansy cackles. “Now he’s got you.”
“Theo Nott,” Draco says desperately. “I know you think he’s cute.”
“You’ll never get him to agree,” Blaise says, but he can see the consideration across his face, and hope flares in his chest.
“I could too! I have blackmail on him, I totally could.”
“If you get me a date with Theo Nott,” Blaise muses slowly, “I’ll be your vice president.”
Draco nearly whoops with glee, but restrains himself. Such a thing would be undignified, even if he did just valiantly win a mighty battle. He resists the urge to rub his hands together maniacally like some sort of movie villain. He is most certainly the hero here. Saving the neighborhood is honestly so noble of him.
“Blaise, you genius, I could marry you right now.”
“Ah, but then what would you offer me? Poor Theodore would be so distraught.”
“I am already offering you so much! Power, Blaise. We will rule this neighborhood. With me at the helm and you as my trusty sidekick, we will be unstoppable!”
“Okay, wow,” Pansy says dryly, “that got to your head fast.”
Draco makes a face at her.
“I don’t know how I feel about being labeled a sidekick,” Blaise says.
He flaps a hand at him. “Whatever you want to call yourself.”
He plops down in a chair. This shouldn’t be too hard, he muses. He’s highly intelligent, very skilled, and a mastermind at plotting. All he has to do is establish himself as a prominent figure, and whoever this holiday harbinger is will have to listen to him. Yes, this is a truly fantastic idea. He’s so proud of himself for thinking of this. Soon, he will have this neighborhood at his feet, starting with this illicit decorator.