Year: 5, January 8 1997 (between chapter 102 and 103)
Canonicity: canon to the Slytherin Six/Affinities crossover
Point-of-view: third person, Draco Malfoy
Notes: I would advise reading this after the previous one-shot. This explores Draco's POV before he encounters the Slytherin Six in Periculand. There aren't any major spoilers for the Affinities series so you don't need to have read that. I basically just wrote this for my own reference, and for Dani and Jasmine's enjoyment.
"Wait for me!" The annoying, girlish voice interrupted Draco's failed attempts to fall asleep. He dragged his gaze away from the ceiling and his mind away from thoughts of Fitzroy, focusing on the commotion in the hall outside his dorm room. "I haven't perfected my spell for strapping these heels on quickly!"
"We don't have time to waste!" another girl's voice hissed back. "Every second is another opportunity for Snape to take away my prefect privileges!"
Draco ran a hand over his face, wishing he could pretend he hadn't heard Greengrass and Pucey sneaking around after curfew. Even if he weren't a prefect, he wouldn't have been able to ignore it, though. Crabbe still snored like a drowning pig in his bunk, which meant the two girls weren't scampering off to snog boys. This had to have something to do with Fitzroy.
Quietly climbing down from his bed, he slipped on his shoes and peered into the corridor, spotting Greengrass, Pucey, and Flemming disappearing into the common room. They'd left the door to their room open, and when Draco peeked inside, he found every bed vacant, including Fitzroy's.
Swearing under his breath, he stalked out of the Slytherin dungeons and followed the girls up the stairs. He kept a lengthy distance as not to be detected, but this proved a mistake when one of their chosen staircases moved before he could hop on.
"This blasted school...bloody ridiculous... I'll kill Dumbledore just for allowing this nonsense to continue..." he grumbled to himself as he found an alternate stairwell. Since he'd lost sight of the girls, he almost considered taking a detour to the Headmaster's office to complain about the outrageous design of this place, but luckily the sight of two other idiots snuffed any rash ideas.
"Everything is purrrrple... Looks like Melody," Harper slurred before dragging his tongue along the wall. Draco almost gagged aloud. For once, Anderson did something right by redirecting his friend toward the center of the corridor.
"This is barmy, Harp. You can barely even walk." Anderson grabbed his friend's arm when he nearly collapsed to his wobbly knees.
"Need...to know....what Lay's up to. She saaaaid no more secrets!"
A spike of panic drove through Draco's chest. Had Fitzroy snuck off to work on the cabinet? It would be like her to not check if her demented friends were following. Better them than the Gryffindors, but...Draco still didn't want anyone screwing up their plans. Nor did he want these morons involving themselves in the task. Working with one incompetent fifth year was bad enough.
Harper suddenly gasped, clutching his friend's shoulder for support. "Am I hallucinating, or is that the most beauuuutifulangel you've ever seen?"
Draco froze in his tracks when he spotted a head of pale purple hair through the darkened hall ahead. As it whirled around, he hastily hid behind a statue and hoped his light locks weren't a beacon to his own location.
"You're not dead?" Flemming's toneless voice sounded from afar. "What a pity."
"My heart...is bursting...with love!"
"No!" echoed Pucey's voice in an appalled whisper. "What are you doing here? You can't get expelled, Harper! Who will fill in for stupid Malfoy when he neglects his Seeker duty?"
Draco bristled at the dig at his intelligence, but he didn't have the ability to defend his completely justified reasons for skipping Quidditch.
"Stop dawdling," Greengrass snapped. "Lainey's headed for the Divination Tower—what a scandalous place to snog Draco!"
Outraged, he jutted out beyond the statue, but the Divination Tower's entrance lay too far into the distance for him to glimpse Fitzroy. Was she with someone? If Greengrass thought it was him, the bloke must have been blond, but he didn't know many other blond boys, at least not by name...unless it was Creevey. Draco barely suppressed a chortle at the thought. He wouldn't even be cross if he caught the two of them together. Perhaps such a pathetic sight would finally convince his brain to stop thinking about her all the time.
The younger Slytherins had continued onward, so Draco slunk after them, confident he wouldn't lose them now with Harper's incessant rambling. When they reached the Divination Tower's stairwell, the stumbling boy spun to ascend the steps backward, which, unsurprisingly, made their trek upward irritatingly slow. Draco climbed at a pace of one step per minute and then had to backtrack nearly to the bottom when Harper and Anderson tumbled halfway down.
Assuming the boys would be dumb enough to repeat their fall, Draco waited a solid five minutes to finally ascend again. At the top, the younger Slytherins had all entered the classroom, joining Fitzroy where she sat at one of the little round tables. As far as Draco could see, she didn't have a snogging partner, but he didn't even care about that anymore when he beheld her alarmed face in the blinding glow of a crystal ball.
One-by-one, her dumb friends reached for the light, and one-by-one it absorbed them. Soon, only she and Flemming remained, staring each other down over the orb. They exchanged a few words, though Draco couldn't hear them from this distance, and he was helpless to intervene when Fitzroy thrust her hand into the light and evaporated.
Eerily, Flemming rotated until she faced Draco where he crouched at the top of the stairwell. "How hard do you think it'll be to convince all the bozos at this school that they never existed?"
"I... They—just—"
"Hm, true, we'll probably get blamed for their deaths," she concluded, mostly to herself. "I reckon we can both agree Azkaban isn't a family tradition we want to carry on."
With that, she stuck a limp-wristed hand into the light and got sucked into the crystal ball.
Draco stared at the brightness for a few long minutes, until his eyes couldn't even focus elsewhere. Fitzroy had seemed shocked by the crystal ball's powers, but she was a Seer. Had she unwittingly transported them somewhere? Knowing her, it'd probably sent them right into Weaselbee's arms. Perhaps Draco should have gone straight to Snape and let him handle this, but if Fitzroy had ditched him again for that blood traitor, he wanted to be the one to confront her.
As he rose from his crouch, the orb's light started to wane. Without a second thought, he darted toward it, shoving his hand into the flickering rays, feeling a mixture of relief and terror as his body fell into the destination beyond.
His bottom landed on a worn leather surface, forcing a grunt from his throat. The stench of smoke infiltrated his nostrils, and he blinked his eyes into focus, expecting to find that Fitzroy's clumsy friends had already managed to light the Weasleys' hovel on fire. Personally, Draco wouldn't have been bothered, but he would need to find Fitzroy and Apparate out of here as fast as possible.
Instead, when his vision adjusted to his surroundings, he found dirty panes of glass and the frame of a Muggle motor vehicle encasing him.
He braced a hand on the door and then rapidly recoiled when he noticed the crude drawings on the surface. His focus flew to the space before him, where he was fairly certain there should have been a steering wheel, but it was positioned on the opposite side of the automobile...where a middle-aged man sat.
"Yeah, those aren't my best work," he said in a startlingly American accent. He nodded toward the drawings Draco had touched, but Draco didn't bother looking at them again, all his incredulous attention aimed on the strange man.
"What...why am I in this Muggle contraption? What have you done with Fitzroy—the girl? The—she—"
"Ooh, Muggle. Sounds like a new weapon for my insult arsenal," the man enthused as he settled deeper in his seat. Though the vehicle was stationary, the driver's open window let in a cool breeze, blowing some of his cigarette smoke back toward Draco. The stick rested languidly between the man's fingers, and his pine green eyes rested languidly on his unexpected passenger. Curls of the same unnatural green sprouted from his head like an untamed bush, and slithering snakes floated around him like an infant's mobile.
"The snakes are probably a warning that you're dangerous, but"— the man surveyed him and shrugged—"you're wearing velvet pajamas, so I'll take my chances."
Draco stole a self-conscious glance at his attire. "They're not velvet."
"Hm, I must be seeing them wrong," was his only comment before he took a drag of his cigarette.
"A-and I am dangerous." Draco sat up straighter, trying to exude as much authority as one could in this dingy space. "Tell me where we are, or I'll...hurt you."
The man's eyebrows pinched together "You know, I was a little rash in my pajama assumption. The last loser I knew who actually went out of his way to buy pajamas basically killed me, so I'll comply with your wishes, dear hallucination of mine."
"Dear—what?" Rather than wait for an answer, Draco dug his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the man's nose."I will kill you."
His green eyes crossed momentarily before he let out a dark chuckle. "Oh, this is rich. I'm in deeply sentimental territory if my brain's giving me warlocks." When Draco shoved it against the tip of his nose, the man raised his hands in surrender. "Look, kid, I'm spying on Periculand for completely reasonable reasons. I don't need to justify them to you, but just know...they are reasonable."
"Periculand? What the bloody hell is that?"
The man pointed his cigarette out the front window, gesturing beyond the trees his automobile sat in. Glittering white buildings jutted toward the sky, unlike anything in the wizarding world—or even in the Muggle world Draco had seen.
"Angor Periculy's sparkly little dystopia for Affinities. I didn't get an invite, mind you," the man added in an awful British accent, "but I wouldn't wanna be an underling in his socialist regime anyway."
"What is...who..." Draco couldn't form a coherent sentence, not when he'd been transported to a place as awful as America and Fitzroy wasn't even here. Had the crystal ball brought her somewhere else entirely? He had to find out if she was around here, and if not, he had to find a way back. Flying a broom all the way across the Atlantic didn't seem plausible, but he couldn't fathom taking Muggle transport—
"You can call me Grant," the man's gruff voice interrupted his frantic thoughts, "because some people say my existence grants their every wish."
Draco's arm had gone slack, but he straightened it again to threaten the man. "Can you grant my wish to get me the hell out of here?"
"Where do you wanna go? There's a pizza joint not far from here—has the best pepperoni—"
"I don't want to eat pizza with you. I want—"
"Corn dogs? Me too, but I haven't found any good ones around here. Might have to go to Cincinnati for that. It's not too long of a drive—"
"I want to go home," Draco cut in emphatically, jabbing his wand against the man's upper lip in an attempt to shut him up. "Take me to London, at least. I can find my way from there."
"London, eh? Okie dokie." Grant pressed a button and the vehicle's exterior lights started flashing. Draco's gaze darted around warily, waiting for something to explode, but when the man hit the button again, the only thing that changed was the entire world beyond the automobile.
Newer looking vehicles drove across the bridge around them, and the River Thames flowed beneath it. Big Ben loomed taller than even the highest building in that Periculand, and the design was much more welcoming than those plain white structures. Draco had been here a few times with his parents, and he remembered feeling wildly uncomfortable with all the Muggles swarming around him like disease-ridden rats. He didn't much look forward to wading through the infestation now, but at least he knew his way to the Leaky Cauldron from this location.
Draco had no idea how this Muggle contraption had managed to Apparate them halfway across the planet—some wizard had tampered with it at some point, probably. It didn't matter, really; all he cared about was returning to Hogwarts and finding Fitzroy.
Pocketing his wand, he fidgeted with the door handle, but it wouldn't budge.
"Gotta say the magic words," Grant sang over the commotion beyond his open window. "'Thanks, Your Gloriousness.'"
Draco yanked on the handle, but the door remained firmly shut. "I'm not thanking you."
"Well, then, you've bought a one-way ticket to crazy-town."
"To wha—" Draco's vocal cords stopped working when the sky darkened above them and Big Ben's clock face turned into an actual face. Its eyeballs popped in and out of their sockets, its sharp teeth grinning as manically as Grant. "Wh-what's happening?"
"I'm using other hallucinations to get rid of my ungrateful hallucination." The man blew smoke in Draco's face, adding, "That's you."
"I-I'm not a hallucination! I'm a real person—a wizard—a-a valued asset of the Dark Lord—"
"Don't tell me that's what Periculy's calling himself." Grant threw his head back in laughter as a giant wave surged over the bridge, slamming into Draco's side of the automobile. The vehicle didn't rock, but water did seep in through the bottom, slowly rising up their legs. "Caught me spying and sent you out here to mess with me, huh?"
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Draco exploded, his heart beating rapidly as the water reached his knees, soaking his trousers. "Just—get us out of here!"
"Fi—oh, shit. Ferrets?" For the first time, Grant seemed genuinely befuddled as several white ferrets popped up from the water, bodies bobbing like otters'. The water had reached Draco's chest now, and one ferret clung to his shirt, reminding him far too much of that ghastly Smellfoy. "This must be on you, bud. I can't remember the last time I thought about a ferret. Guess you kinda smell like one, though, if we're being honest."
Rage mounted in Draco, physically manifesting and boiling the water around him. He didn't feel the heat, his awareness settled solidly on ruining this man. Shoving off the ferret, he extracted his wand again, prepared to blast Grant out the window, but the man merely rolled his eyes and reaching over to shove Draco's hand.
"Give it a rest with your little twig, kid. I'm just joshing with you," the man said, though as he spoke, his rough voice morphed into a softer, yet equally sarcastic, tone. Before Draco could utter a spell, the ferrets, the river, and even Big Ben vanished, transporting them back to the American forest, where he now sat beside Lainey Fitzroy.
Her hand was on his, as Grant's had been, and Draco's mind instantly flew to the conclusion that this was all some elaborate prank she'd play on him. She'd probably told her stupid roommates to coax him after them, and he'd fallen for it. Now he only wondered what was really happening—and how she'd fabricated such an intense magical illusion.
"I swear, Fitzroy—"
"I should've guessed this," she spoke over him, checking her reflection in the mirror hanging from the ceiling. "Predictable teenage boy, always thinking about girls."
"Wh...huh..." Draco tried to say words but it mostly came out as a confused breath.
"Oh, don't mind me, I'm just showing you your deepest desire." Fitzroy winked before surveying her lush green waves. "Hey, are you just lusting after me in girl form? Eugh, you're, like, young enough to be my son, dude, stop."
Draco instinctively snatched his hand away, and Fitzroy's appearance drifted away like dust in the wind, leaving only Grant behind.
"Well, now that you've made things thoroughly awkward—"
Draco didn't hear him as he yelped, "Confringo!" at the big front window, and it shattered outward.
"Aw, don't run away," Grant complained as Draco scrambled over the glass. "You're the most entertaining imaginary friend I've had in a while. I can pretend you don't have a creepy crush on me!"
Shaken beyond the point of comprehension, Draco darted away from the automobile, barely feeling the glass stabbing his palms and knees. The cool breeze blew against his trousers, but they weren't wet like they should have been. His limbs trembled at the impossibility of it all, but he didn't stop running until he reached the perimeter of Periculand: a buzzing metal fence that encased the surreal town. None of it really fazed him at this point, not as he planted his hands on his thighs and panted heavily, trying to process what the hell had just happened.
"Hey, Regg," a feminine voice barked from above. Gradually, Draco lifted his head to acknowledge the woman seated on a platform atop the fence, chewing bubble gum. Even with the glare of the sun, he spotted the indigo tint to her dark hair and eyes, and his stomach roiled.
"Oh—oh no. I don't know what you...you people are, but I want no part in it!"
"Are you lost? Or drunk? Or lost and drunk?" When Draco simply seethed, she shook her head. "Never mind. I can tell you're not a threat. My phone's dead because Periculy won't install a freakin' outlet on my platform!" She shouted this last part back toward the town even though no one was around to hear. "But I'll let you in and Fraco can help you. He's in the garage." She pointed toward a cube-shaped building behind her, the first stop on the road beyond the gate.
Draco didn't fancy meeting any more of these odd Muggles, but the woman didn't give him much choice as she punched a button on her platform's dashboard, and the humming gates parted.
As apprehensive as whenever he encountered the Dark Lord, Draco stuffed his wand into his pocket and entered the foreign town. It wasn't often that he explored new places; at the very least he would've liked Crabbe and Goyle to be here with him to intimidate anyone who gave him trouble. He couldn't rely on his reputation, his blood status, or even his Dark Mark to deter these Muggles. For once, he'd have only his magic.
Luckily, the town was ominously desolate—except for one boy stalking purposefully down the road ahead. His hair shimmered like the ocean's surface in the bright sunlight, and Draco would've thought his little bun looked ridiculous if it weren't accompanied by his menacing features. Without glancing toward the now-closing gate, the boy marched into the tallest building, which reminded Draco of one of his mum's cylindrical vases, speckled with circular windows instead of round emeralds.
Briefly, he considered following the boy, but he had no need to...other than to prove that he wasn't afraid of any of these weird-haired freaks. Perhaps if he hexed just one, the rest would bend to his whims without the need for cordiality or explanations.
Still, he wouldn't chose that one. He'd track down this Fraco and, if he proved pathetic, use him as a spectacle for the others.
Starting down the road, Draco picked glass shards from his palms, hissing at the sting of each one. A few blood droplets hit the pavement, and he knew the flow wouldn't stop until he found Fitzroy. The likelihood of her being here, though, seemed slim. Whatever she'd done to that crystal ball, it had transported him to a completely different place and time, based on the autumn-toned trees lining the street. He had no idea how the hell he would return to their origin without her psychic powers, and he loathed the extent to which he grown dependent on her.
When he rounded the first building, one of the garage doors was open, displaying an assortment of shiny Muggle automobiles. Though they looked more futuristic than the ones Draco usually saw, he wasn't the least bit impressed.
Wrapping a bloody hand around his wand, he stepped into the building and then almost jolted backward when a head of Gryffindor-gold hair poked out from behind the nearest vehicle.
"You here for detention with Fraco too?" the boy asked, his metallic eyes roving over Draco's rigid body. "Are you a primie? I haven't seen you before."
Draco barely resisted the visceral urge to Imperio him and be done with what would surely be an unproductive conversation. "Is that the American term for the Prime Minister?"
"Oh, nice, you're a Brit."
The boy rose on his extremely long legs, towering a head over Draco. In one hand he held a dirty rag, and grease stained his white jumper, but what disgusted Draco most was how easily everyone here accepted his presence, like he wasn't a wizard from the other side of the globe. If he ever got back to Hogwarts, he'd have to tell the Dark Lord to invade this place first. These naive Muggles were practically begging for someone to attack them.
"I've been wanting to practice my accent," the gold-haired boy said, and then suddenly his hair wasn't gold anymore. Along with his skin, it lightened to a pale, near-white shade—and his irises morphed into a dull grey—and his stature shortened until his cuffed orange trousers nearly touched his ankles instead of hugging his calves. Soon, Draco was staring at himself, only the mirrored version wore a goofy grin that he'd never thought his lips could form.
"Y-you..." Draco's vision swam, his heart beating as fast as when Grant had transfigured into Fitzroy. Stepping backward, he nearly tripped on the lip of the building's foundation, and the other boy's eyebrows arched.
"You are very new here," he observed in a British accent that was at least better than Grant's. "What's your name? I need to get into character. Do you have any weird birth marks I should know about? I like to be accurate—
"Draco Malfoy," he snapped, gathering his dignity. "Now, where's—"
"Are you being Bizarro Fraco?"
Draco shouldn't have even entertained this line of questioning, but he was too befuddled not to blurt, "What?"
"You don't have comics in Britain?" The boy was so shocked, he'd reverted to his American accent. "It means you're acting like the inverse version of someone. In your case, you're clean and calm and not oily. Usually the Bizarro version is worse, but I guess Fraco can only get better. Well played, my friend. I'm Ruse Dispus." He extended a hand, which Draco swatted away.
"I'm not shaking my own hand! This place is unbelievable. Can you all change your appearances? How do you do magic without wands or potions?"
"We're not witches. Well, Nixie might be. She has that vibe."
Draco's nostrils flared, frustrated at the lack of logic and sensibility and people who knew how to explain things concisely. "Where is Fraco?" he demanded through his teeth.
Ruse tilted his head toward the other side of the garage. "Making out with his golf cart over there, probably."
Draco couldn't imagine that meant what he thought it meant, so he stomped through the rows of automobiles until he spotted a dark-haired man crouched before a smaller vehicle. His thin fingers stroked the glossy white exterior in a way that could only be described as caressing, and Draco stopped dead in his tracks, too disturbed to continue. Whenever he found Fitzroy, she would pay for sending him to this wacko-land.
"Told you," Ruse whispered as he settled beside him, snickering quietly. He'd changed his appearance again, this time wearing pink hair and eyes, but something about his impish expression and aura remained constant despite the physical alterations. "Hey, Frakes, this primie's here for his punishment."
Fraco, presumably, jerked backward, falling onto his bony bum before jumping upright and straightening his rumpled black suit. His beady eyes blinked profusely, as if trying to expel the watery sheen over them. He didn't seem like he'd been crying, though every inch of him was wet, like he'd recently jumped into a lake. Remembering what Ruse had said about oily, Draco flinched away.
"I was just—this isn't what—you will call me Mr. Leve!" Fraco stammered, gaining some semblance of authority with his last statement. "What are you even doing here, Mr. Watkins? Where is Mr. Dispus? Is he shirking his duties again? And what is this student doing walking around in his pajamas? They aren't even the school-issued ones!" The man's eyes narrowed on Draco, who felt as small as a first year. "Mr. Dispus—is this another one of your pranks? That's it! I'm bringing you to Mr. Periculy!"
Ruse opened his mouth to protest, but not a word was uttered before Fraco snatched Draco's arm.
"Unhand—" Draco began, but the man's slick palm immediately slipped off regardless. To his immense displeasure, the oil had seeped through his sleeve, dripping down his flesh beneath."You grubby little wanker! I'll—"
"Mr. Watkins!" Fraco shrilled, apparently addressing Ruse. "Guide Mr. Dispus, unless you'd like me to forget not to invite your father to Family Day this year."
Despite the mix up with their identities, Ruse's jaw clenched at this threat as if he actually were Watkins. Without a fight, he gripped Draco's dry arm and ushered him after the speed-walking man.
"What are you doing?" Draco hissed in annoyance as they stepped into the sun. "Tell him I'm not you!"
"I would, but then he'll make me resume detention, and I'd rather not. I've been waiting two years for him to get mad enough to bring me to Periculy's office. I've heard good things don't happen there, but I'm confident I can weasel my way out of it...and you too, for a price."
"A price? You owe me for getting me in this situation—you insolent Muggle!"
Draco reached his free hand for his wand, but since it was in his opposite pocket, he wasn't successful. He tried yanking his arm from Ruse's grasp, and he was about to stomp his foot when Fraco called from ahead, "Chop chop, children! I have other matters to attend to after this!"
"Yeah, I bet your golf cart misses you," Ruse muttered, unfortunately loud enough for the oily man to hear. He whirled around, the movement squirting droplets all over the boys' faces. Draco spluttered when the foul substance entered his mouth, more repulsed than if a Muggle had decided to snog him.
"I will have you know—" Fraco began in a high-pitched tone, though he cut himself off the moment a louder, deeper voice reverberated from above.
"Fraco!"
Glancing up, Draco had to shield his eyes from the sun and let them adjust for several seconds, especially with the glare of the blinding white cylindrical tower. Eight stories up, one of the circular windowpanes had been removed, allowing a giant individual to poke his head out. Even with the size of the hole, his massive shoulders barely fit through.
"What the hell are you doing with my mind reader?"
Fraco opened and closed his thin lips five times before squawking, "It's Mr. Leve! And we don't use profanity on school grounds, Mr. Corvis! 'What in Mr. Periculy's magnificent town are you doing' would be a fine substitution for—"
"Haldor!" the Corvis monster barked before retreating inside the tower. Seconds later, a slightly smaller giant stretched a meaty arm out the window, and when he closed his fist, the ground beneath their feet began to crack.
"Mr. Craig!" Fraco shrieked as a chasm formed between him and the boys. Ruse's hold on Draco's arm tightened as a jagged fissure encircled them, separating the pavement they stood on from the rest. With rumbling, cracking noises, the ground broke apart, slowly rising and lifting the boys with it.
Draco's eyes darted toward Fraco, whose jaw had dropped so low it almost looked dislocated. Perhaps he could have jumped off the rising slab and landed a safe distance from the oily man, but he didn't know if Ruse would relent his vice-like grip, and that could cause complications. Resigning to this fate, Draco focused on balancing, a task that became increasingly difficult the farther they floated from solid ground.
"You're really improving with your Affinity, Haldor!" Ruse called up, heedless of the danger. "This is a lot of focus for your pea brain to handle!"
The pavement wobbled, and the boys' shoulders collided, nearly knocking each other off opposite ends.
"You imbecile," Draco snarled, which didn't faze Ruse as he stretched both arms out in a surfing pose.
"Just go with the flow, dog," he said in a voice that reminded Draco too much of Anderson trying to be cool.
"I'm not—" The slab rattled again, and Draco almost yelped as he grabbed Ruse's waist to steady himself. For the first time during this whole fiasco, he was glad Fitzroy wasn't around. Watching him discover his fear of heights wouldn't necessarily heighten her opinion of him.
"This seems like a precarious place to slow dance." Ruse draped his arms over Draco's shoulders. "Let's do it."
"Let's not," Draco snarled, though he was helpless to do anything but let Ruse sway them back and forth atop the rock now floating seven stories above the ground. If he jerked away, he might fall to his death, and if he tried Apparating, he'd probably splinch one of them. His only option was to hold tight to Ruse and fight to keep last night's dinner from resurfacing. He supposed if he did vomit, it would at least land on Fraco, who gleamed like a giant greasy fly below, hands on his head in dismay. That wouldn't be so bad.
"If Nero interrogates you, I'm Jerry Watkins," Ruse said, voice suddenly serious. "I probably didn't say anything to you—well, maybe I insulted you. Yeah, Jerry probably would've found some dry, subtle way to mock your hair. He hates blonds—can't imagine why—"
"Who is Ne—"
Draco didn't finish his question before the rock reached the open window and dumped them inside. The boys tumbled over each other until they landed with Draco's back to the floor, his face pressed into Ruse's greasy jumper. The scent increased his nausea, and the distant boom of rock hitting earth startled him into gagging. He might've choked if Ruse hadn't finally rolled off him, hastily pinching his own cheeks in a way that actually made them grow rounder.
"Mr. Craig!" Fraco's high-pitched voice warbled from outside. "You've destroyed school property! Mr. Periculy will fine you for this!"
"Good luck, he's broke!" a girl shouted through the open window. "I know because I tried stealing from him!"
Her gleeful malice comforted Draco as much as returning to the Slytherin common room would have. He pushed himself up to survey her ridiculous, hole-ridden tights, the bottom half obscured by knee-high boots. She wore a skirt shorter than even Greengrass would dare, and her bra-like top didn't befit the cool autumn weather. He couldn't help but wish Fitzroy had worn outfits like this during her goth phase...and then he couldn't help but freeze in fear when this girl spun to fix her sadistic, midnight blue eyes on him. Two short pigtails held most of her matching hair, making her look like some demonic little fairy.
"A new primie," she crooned, licking her darkly painted lips. "What do you think, Demi? Your type?"
On one of the room's two beds sat another girl with hair and eyes like tropical waters. She briefly glanced up from the metal trinket she was tinkering with and then shrugged. "Seems a little too well-mannered, but I could corrupt him."
"You don't know anything about my manners," Draco snapped, letting his pride overtake any sense of tact. "I can be very ill-mannered when I'm provoked."
The girls exchanged a look, mouthing, "Accent," and a neon-green-haired boy perched on a messy desk huffed, "He's practically a Regg! Bet he doesn't have a clue what his Affinity is."
Draco didn't know what Regg or Affinity were, but he could easily detect an insult. His hand inched toward his wand, but the expression on Ruse's face gave him pause. The boy no longer exuded playful energy, his lips now parted in as if he were a drooling troll. Following his dull gaze, Draco turned to witness the two massive creatures that had poked out the window earlier. The smaller one twirled a gravity-defying rock around his hand and wrist—using magic, probably. The larger one bored his stone-grey eyes into Ruse as if performing Legilimency.
"Uh..." Ruse began, sounding as brain dead as Ron Weasley. "Head dizzy...can't read minds..."
The big bloke snorted but didn't question the kid's god-awful lying. "You Mentals are so pathetic sometimes... Whatever, I was just thinking that I've been looking everywhere for you. Little Stromer plans to mobilize against us, Mardurus says."
He jabbed a giant thumb back at a much smaller boy, who leaned insouciantly against the wall. It was the boy Draco had seen stalking into this building earlier, his ocean blue hair and eyes a mirror to the goth girl's. The two shared a lot of the same features—siblings, probably. The boy's menacing aura wasn't as pronounced as his sister's, but Draco did, regrettably, flinch back a bit when their gazes met. Aunt Bellatrix had taught him Occlumency over the summer, but he still felt this Mardurus could read every one of his thoughts.
"She won't be able to do anything, obviously," the big boy continued in his deep, haughty voice, "but it'll give us an excuse to pummel her and her useless primies without suffering too much punishment from Fraco...or Periculy." Momentarily, a haunted sheen overtook his grey eyes, as if the Bloody Baron had floated into the room. Shaking out of it, he told Ruse, "We need you to spy on them."
Ruse maintained his troll expression and dumbly said, "I found you...this."
This was apparently Draco, and he stiffened as every oddly-shaded eye fell upon him. Even the purple-haired girl sitting cross-legged in a chair lifted her eggplant-colored eyes from her textbook to study him instead.
His instincts screamed for him to flee, but he had nowhere to go—unless he wanted to jump back out the window. The two brutes blocked the only door in sight, and he'd seen Crabbe and Goyle rough up enough people to know he stood no chance against anyone in physical combat.
Before anyone could make a move, he jumped to his feet and extracted his wand, pointing it directly at the grey-haired leader. "Stand back!"
For a moment, everyone was stunned into silence. Then the neon-haired boy started snickering. "A stick? Dude."
Without warning, he spat a wad of saliva that Draco barely dodged before shouting, "Titillando!"
Violet light flared from his wand and wrapped around the boy, poking and prodding him until he flailed off the desk and writhed on the floor in laughter.
The turquoise-haired girl stopped fiddling with her metal contraption, and the two giant boys stepped into aggressive stances. Blue-haired Marudurs didn't move from the wall, but his sister did narrow her eyes, an orb of water coalescing around her lifted fist.
Draco didn't have time to process how she might have done that without a wand, for the biggest boy growled, "What did you do to Dave?"
"Tickling Hex." Draco flicked his wand toward the leader and smirked when the monster jolted back in fear. "You wanna go? Seems like you could use a laugh."
"What else can you do with that?"
"Loads of things," Draco said, infusing his voice with more confidence than he felt. If this whole room of teens descended on him, he could do little more than a Shield Charm to combat them all at once. "I could kill you."
"Right," the big boy scoffed, though when his eyes darted to his friend, tears streaming down his face as he endlessly laughed, his disparagement mitigated. "Jerry, mind explaining why you brought me this hostile British douche?"
Ruse's mouth drooped open farther, but Draco spoke first.
"Have any of you seen six idiots scampering round here?"
The big boy's unibrow furrowed. "You mean Little Stromer and her friends?"
"There are like ten of them," the pigtailed girl interjected as she lazily swirled her fingers through her magical water orb.
"And your stepbrother's the worst one, Nero," the turquoise-haired girl said to the monstrous boy, confirming he was the Nero Ruse had been so afraid of. "I saw him teleporting one foot at a time with some girl before I came up here. She was wearing Certior's jacket. I've never seen her before—"
"Did she have dark green hair?" Draco demanded, almost feverish.
The girl's bright eyebrows rose. "The only person with dark green hair I know of is my cousin. If you've been around here long enough, you've probably noticed him staring at nothing or muttering about the Otherworld."
"And yet, he's still cooler than you." Mardurus shot her a spiteful smile before hardening his focus on Draco. "Why are we having a civilized conversation with this weirdo? He needs a stick just to use his tickling Affinity. Plus he's wearing a matching set of pajamas like we're in the 90s."
They were in the 90s...unless Fitzroy had brought them to the bloody future. Draco's heart beat frantically at the thought, though he didn't know how to question the year without seeming like a lunatic.
"And he...attacked Dave," the neon-haired one managed through panting laughter.
Pushing off the wall, Mardurus joined Nero's side, a water droplet dancing along his hand as he lifted it. "I say we take away his stick and see if he can still fight."
That could not happen. When Mardurus took another step forward, Draco shouted, "Locomotor Wibbly!" and the blue-haired boy's knees caved inward before he collapsed to the floor.
Instead of rushing to defend his friend, as Draco feared, Nero took one look at the smaller boy struggling to push himself up, and then he burst into chuckles. The others quickly mirrored his reaction, even Mardurus's sister. Only the purple-haired girl didn't participate, as fused to her book as Flemming always was.
"Well, this is good news," Draco observed, head high with pride as the others appreciated his work. "I've landed myself in a den of Slyther—"
He choked on his last word when water suddenly invaded his mouth, flooding his windpipes and encasing the lower half of his face. Instinctively, he tried coughing it out, but nothing happened. Panicked, he swatted at the outer orb, displacing it for only a moment before it snapped back to its original state. His eyes flew around the room, all smiles fading—all except Mardurus's. Through the lens of water obscuring the bottom half of Draco's vision, he saw the boy's sadistic smirk, marking him as the assailant in this attack.
"Quit it," Nero growled, kicking Mardurus's side. As the smaller boy grunted, the water cascaded from Draco's face, permitting air back into his lungs, but the liquid didn't smack the floor; it stopped midair and redirected, zooming toward Nero with the speed of a Snitch.
Busy spitting the remaining water from his mouth, it took Draco a minute to register the blue-haired girl stepping beside him, hand outstretched to stop the water from drowning Nero. Telepathically, she summoned the liquid to herself and held it in her hands like a Quaffle. "You're welcome, Cal," she said with a too-sweet smile at her brother.
"Sorry," Mardurus said, voice strained as he pushed onto his wobbly legs and rubbed his kicked side. The apology was not to Draco but to Nero, who he'd done far less damage to though could probably receive worse consequences from. His insincerity didn't fool anyone, so he added, "Reflex."
Nero's eyes remained slivered, but he didn't linger on Mardurus long before addressing the rest of the group. "No one touches the wizard kid. He's one of us now. If he can catch you off guard, Mardurus, maybe he should replace you."
The blue-haired girl bristled, accidentally elbowing Draco, but when it became clear Nero's threat was aimed at her brother, not her, she relaxed. Despite not having his own siblings, Draco found it odd she wouldn't defend him. The Weasleys were all about sibling loyalty, and Fitzroy woud surely sacrifice herself for any one of her stupid Muggle brothers.
Mardurus seemed to expect this, his displeasure radiating solely in Nero's direction. Still, he said nothing, even when his leader held out his hands in invitation to Draco. "Well, what do you say?" the big boy prompted.
Draco swallowed with a sudden surge of uncertainty. Strategically, allying with them would be smart; anyone who could control water without a wand must possess immense power, and he doubted Nero needed magic to annihilate someone. He exuded the same brawny authority that blokes like Flint and Montague did, and though Draco had followed them in his youth, he didn't think he could submit himself to anyone this brainless now. For years, he'd clawed at any attempt for power, but he didn't need to be so desperate anymore, not when he'd surpassed his peers in magical aptitude and followed smoothly in his father's legacy as a Death Eater. These fools should bow to him.
"What's he thinking?" Nero asked Ruse after a long moment of silence.
The boy's pink eyes momentarily widened, but he composed himself to flatly say, "That you've been putting on a few pounds, and not in a good way."
Nero's nostrils instantly flared. "I have n—Wait, how would he know that I've gained weight if we just met?"
Ruse scratched the back of his head as the hair gradually dulled to a dusty grey. "Ooh, shit, I didn't think that one through..."
This time, Nero actually let out an animalistic snarl that sounded vaguely like "Dispus."
"I thought you knew it was Dispus," the pigtailed girl said as she flicked droplets toward Ruse. "It's really obvious. He's wearing orange cargo pants."
"Yeah, and his eyes are completely open." The purple-haired girl glanced up from her book contemplatively. "Has anyone ever seen Jerry completely open his eyes?"
"But I did a good job with the rest, right?" Ruse pinched his puffy cheeks again, which now swelled as if full of food. "I've kept my mouth open this entire time! Not an easy task—"
Nero growled like a dragon preparing to unleash fire. Instead, he unleashed his massive body, charging toward Ruse like he planned to ram them both out the window. The shapeshifter, now shorter and leaner than he'd been in Jerry's form, dove onto the empty bed and then scrambled over the purple-haired girl, throwing her book back at Nero in the process. By the time the bulky boy's body pivoted, Ruse had fled the dorm room into the hall beyond.
"Dispus!" he bellowed, running as fast as his oversized limbs would allow. "Tell me where you put my mind reader!"
"Don't know who you're talking about!" Ruse's voice echoed as he disappeared down a spiral staircase.
No one spoke until Nero's stomps stopped reverberating through the building, though Dave's faint laughter still filled the air. Draco wondered if this was an uncommon occurrence until he noticed the apathy on everyone else's faces, the mundane way Boulder Boy played with his rock, Turquoise Girl fiddled with her trinket, and Pigtails poked at her water orb. Sluggishly, the purple-haired girl retrieved her thrown textbook and resumed reading.
"Are we really letting him join our gang?" Mardurus specifically asked his sister.
She shrugged her thin shoulders. "We don't let anything happen. Nero decides, and he wants this magician on our side. Give him some real clothes to wear, will you?"
Hopping off the bed, the turquoise-haired girl waltzed toward them and unexpectedly ran her dirty fingernails over Draco's chest. "Something hot...if you own anything of the sort," she added to Mardurus, her words clearly slicing his ego.
Since Draco didn't much like the water boy, he winked at the girl. "I can make anything look good."
"I'd like to see," she purred, and, without her touching it, one of the little metal buttons on his shirt popped off. "Come find me after you visit Calder's dump. I have a nice, secluded place we can go."
Frankly, Draco was peeved enough with Fitzroy for getting him into this situation that he might consider that offer. Either way, he wanted to annoy Mardurus, so he said, "Will do."
The blue-haired boy's jaw clenched, but he didn't say anything before stalking from the room, presumably expecting Draco to follow. Still on the floor, Dave said goodbye with his middle finger, while the two girls waved tantalizingly.
Stuffing his wand in his pocket, Draco marched after Mardurus, catching up to him on the spiral staircase. "That your ex-girlfriend?"
"Ex-girlfriend's a nicer term for her than I would use," he muttered, his little blue bun bobbing as he jogged down the steps. For once, Draco wished he paid attention whenever Greengrass rambled about her hair-cutting spells.
"What is this place? You all have magic but no wands."
"It's not magic; it's science. We have an extra pair of chromosomes. I can show you how to draw them, since that's the useful kind of information we learn at this school."
Draco didn't know what chromosomes were, but he had no interest in Muggle science. What intrigued him more was Mardurus's disdain for this establishment, a reflection of Draco's contempt for Hogwarts. Judging by this kid's appearance, though, his dislike was borne of rebelliousness or stupidity, while Draco's stemmed from his innate superiority and skill.
"Our science teacher might try dissecting you if she finds out you're here," Mardurus continued as they rounded the spiral staircase for the third time. "How does your magic work anyway?"
"I...channel it through my wand," Draco answered, hoping he sounded like he knew what he was talking about. "It's in my bloodline."
"Hm, so maybe it's also a chromosomal anomaly—or probably genetic..." Trailing off, he turned his thoughts inward until a new question occurred to him. "Anything you want to happen can happen?"
"I have to know the spell."
"And you have to say the spell?" Mardurus abandoned the staircase on one of the floors, which looked exactly like all the others, and threw a conniving smirk over his shoulder. "So, if I'm drowning you, you're helpless?"
"No," Draco answered immediately, defensively. "Nonverbal magic exists. It's just...harder. Why does it matter? What reason do you have to hurt me?"
Mardurus's humor faded, blue eyes churning like a Wolfsbane Potion as he took an aggressive step toward Draco. "I have every reason to hurt you. You're trying to dismantle all the progress I've made here."
Draco's fingers twitched toward his wand, even though he would have been mostly helpless if this prick decided to drown him again. He knew some nonverbal spells—Aunt Bellatrix had taught him over the summer—but he was woefully inept when it came to controlling water magically. "I'm not trying to dismantle anything," he said, keeping his voice calm despite his agitation. "I'm just trying to find Fitzroy so I can get the hell out of here."
Mardurus retreated a step and then pivoted to approach one of the hall's eight doors—well, seven doors, since one threshold was open into an extremely messy dorm room. As he grabbed the door handle, he paused to quietly confess, "I saw five of your friends at the eyeglass store earlier. The sixth one's probably with Hartman, I assume."
"They're not my—" he started to say on instinct, but he supposed it didn't matter if this git thought he had such daft friends. "The green-haired one... Did she seem..." like she was trying to flee her responsibilities? he couldn't make himself ask.
"She seemed like she was willing to do whatever it took to get to my roommate. He can see another world."
Another world—like the wizarding world. Fitzroy was trying to find a way back, then...or perhaps how to get farther away. Draco couldn't imagine she would be so selfish, especially since things had been...civil between them lately. Still, he didn't fully trust her, and he couldn't assume her motives until he found her and confronted her.
"They're magic, like you?" Mardurus's dark gaze flickered to the pocket where Draco's wand rested. "Can the green-haired one actually see the future, or was that a lie?"
Jealousy coursed through Draco at the realization that this watery sod had actually held a conversation with Fitzroy. "What's it to you?"
"Seems useful," Mardurus commented much too nonchalantly. "Maybe I'll keep her for myse—" A wand under his chin shut his mouth for only a moment before he chuckled to himself. "Relax, psycho. She's not my type. I like to determine my own destiny, anyway."
If that turquoise-haired girl was his type, then Fitzroy certainly wasn't. Fitzroy was the type to get every boy to fall in love with her without even knowing how to flirt. Assuaged, Draco lowered his wand and let Mardurus guide him into dorm room 306.
"Draco Malfoy," an ominous voice greeted, drawing his attention to the bed on the right side of the room. A boy with the same Slytherin-green hair color as Fitzroy lounged there, tucked snugly beneath his white blankets. Draco recalled the turquoise-haired girl mentioning her cousin had green hair, and this kid certainly looked like her, with the same brown skin and freckled cheeks.
"This is Colton," Mardurus droned, gesturing half-heartedly in his roommate's direction. "Don't talk to him," he added before disappearing into his closet.
Draco, of course, ignored his command and edged closer to the bed. "How do you know who I am?"
Colton seemed to look through him as he recited, "Death Eater, prefect, blond prat..." Internally, Draco squirmed, but he conserved a stoic demeanor. "The Otherworld shows me the snakes gnawing at your small heart, the venom you encourage in your veins because you want their approval," he intoned, his harrowing words activating every one of Draco's mental defenses. "The one you seek is like a ghost, there but not in the way you want her to be. Your attempts to touch her in a physical, mental, or emotional way never yield the results you—"
"Enough," Draco hissed, lifting his wand to the unruffled boy. Embarrassingly, his own hand trembled, his mind shaken by how easily this freak had infiltrated it. Draco had even employed the Occlumency tactics his aunt had shown him, yet they did nothing against this boy. "I don't know what kind of mind reading rubbish this is, but I'll blast you out the window if—"
Water droplets streamed across Draco's face, entering his mouth at a speed that was threatening but not yet perilous. Hastily swallowing each bout, he barely heard Mardurus's voice say, "Will you?" from within the closet. An agonizing minute later, he exited with a pile of clothes in his arms, a complacent smile on his lips. "Down," he ordered, fearlessly tapping a finger to the tip of the wand, which Draco reluctantly lowered. "Good boy," Mardurus sarcastically praised, ruffling his blond hair. Draco would've snarled if water wasn't streaming into his mouth.
When Mardurus finally relented, Draco went to suck in a much needed breath, but he ended up grunting out one when the other boy shoved the clothes at his chest.
"You can change in the bathroom." He nodded toward the closed door near Colton's bed. The green-haired boy hadn't moved, still staring into space as if his life hadn't been threatened. "Make sure to lock both doors, lest Tray Stark enter from his room and decide to dissect you himself. Once you're done, we can go looking for your friends. If they're with Stromer, they shouldn't be hard to find—just have to detect the loudest, most obnoxious mayhem."
Hugging the clothes to his chest, Draco stalked to the bathroom. "Sounds like she and Fitzroy will get on a little too well, then..."