Pureblood Boys Do It Better

Suck it, muggle.

When Draco Malfoy exited his apartment that afternoon, he had no intentions of interacting with anybody. He was in one of those seemingly everlasting brooding moods, so social encounters were very low on his ‘to-do list’. Which is why he got pretty pissed off when he knocked into his new neighbor, despite the fact that one generally should feel embarrassed in such situations.

“Hey, watch where you’re-”

Draco awoke sweaty and gasping for breath, constricting his sheets around him like a mere child afraid of the dark. It had been ages since he’d had such awful nightmares- Voldemort’s pale face floated in and out of his vision as he desperately attempted to quell the terror bubbling in his chest. “It’s not real! It’s not real!” He chanted in a harsh whisper.

Slender fingers fished instinctually for his wand, but then he remembered that it hardly functioned in this god forsaken city. Malfoy reached instead for the lamp switch, praying that the light would have some effect-

He screamed. It was high-pitched and not in the least bit flattering, but completely founded. There was some sort of creature in his apartment. Standing on the other side of his room, now illuminated by the lamp, looking every bit as pale as Voldemort himself. “Who- What the hell are you?”

The best way for a shopaholic to relieve stress was to shop, so it was no surprise that Draco could be found at the city’s behemoth of a store complex that evening. It was pouring outside, and all he wanted was a calm night filled with nothing but clothing racks and Starbucks.

But of course, there were complications. By some cruel twist of fate, the Malfoy heir was forced to use the directory. This mall was an unfamiliar and completely novel setting in his case- he had no idea where any of the stores he liked were located. And finding them was becoming an increasingly pressing issue seeing as he was surrounded entirely by Hot Topics and Urban Outfitters. Disgusting.

He wanted to slam a door, but the building’s damn exit was sliding, so he settled for storming through it so fast his shoulder harshly nicked the frame. He wasn’t a fucking rodent. Not a ferret, and definitely not a lab rat for some pug-faced scientists with a god complex. “What a bunch of PRATS.” The Malfoy heir hissed to no one in particular. “My father-” He had to catch the words in his throat. ...is in Azkaban, apparently another universe, and also a prat himself. Swearing, he shoved a hand into the pocket that held his wand and scrutinized the sprawling map of city streets and skyscrapers now surrounding. Merlin, what had he gotten himself into?

And they’d given him a little shack, as if he should be grateful for the gift. He’d just bought a lovely little loft in Rome, for shit’s sake. Though, he supposed, there was no going back. Running a slender hand through his hair, he advanced slightly further down the sidewalk- but then froze abruptly as if he had been petrified. 

Oh, FUCK. 

Draco tore the wand from his pocket, gripping it so tightly that his knuckles bled white. It felt wrong. It was so discordant with his energy that he almost felt disconnected from the thing entirely. What the fuck had they done to it?! Could he even cast spells?

Only one way to find out. Desperately, frantically, he jerked it in the direction of the nearest object, which happened to be an unlucky passerby. “Wingardium Leviosa!”