Lifestyles of the Rich and Wandless

Chapter Three: Stupid Murphy

There was a moment when no one made a sound. Draco stared at Potter. Potter stared at Draco. Draco stared some more at Potter. Potter stared at more at Draco. And Big D stood there, comprehension dawning on his scared, flabby face. "You're that Cedric bloke, aren't you? The one who's Harry's boy friend?" He didn't seem to notice that both wizards were turning a rather nasty shade of green. The three gang members behind Big D snickered.

"That explains the pink blouse," said the spotty one.

Potter finally opened his mouth. "What the hell are you wearing?"

Draco glared at Potter's torn jeans distastefully. "What the hell are you wearing?"

"Just... just go away, H-Harry," Big D stuttered, staring at Potter's waistband for some odd reason. Draco wondered about Big D's preferences...

"Why?" Potter asked, smirking.

"Hey! That's my smirk!" Draco protested. Everyone looked at him strangely. He sneered. "Go away, Potter! I don't need your help!"

Potter shrugged. "Suit yourself, Malfoy." He trudged off.

"You should have pounded him, Big D!" the spotty boy said.

"Whatever," Big D said, scowling darkly. "Hey, blondie, ready to see my demonstration of boxing techniques?" He held out a fist menacingly.

"Er..." Draco said nervously. He should have accepted Potter's help. "POTTER!" he yelped frantically as the gang closed in on him. Potter did not turn. "I promise I won't annoy you!" Draco called. Potter walked on. "I'll call Granger by her real name!" Nothing. "I'll stop singing 'Weasley is Our King'!" Nothing. "I'll let you win every game of Quidditch against Slytherin!"

This time, Potter did turn around, if only to say, "I already do win every Quid- football game against you." Draco didn't even have time to ask what football was. A fist rammed into his stomach. Just when he thought things couldn't get worse. The idiot with that law... what was his name? Murphy. Stupid Murphy.

***

"I am going to take you shopping," Tonks said the next morning. Draco looked up at her in surprise, knowing she would see his black eye. He had been keeping his head down all morning. All that effort was wasted now. Tonks stared at the large purple bruise, and said unsympathetically, "Big D get you?"

Draco looked up, suddenly furious. "Why didn't anyone tell me Potty was going to be here too?"

Tonks looked affronted. "What does it matter to you? Let's go."

***

Muggle London was a lot bigger than Diagon Alley was, Draco noticed. And he had acquired a new hatred of Muggle cars. They were smelly and horrible. When he had pressed a button on the window ledge, the window had slid downwards, making Draco jump a foot in the air. "What's this button for?" he asked.

Tonks rolled her eyes. "That," she said, "makes the door to the boot open. NO, YOU IDIOT, DON'T PRESS IT!" But it was too late. With a squeak, the boot flew open, the old door flying straight back into the back window of the car with a bang.

"What's the point of having a button in the car, then? Why not just open it from the outside?" Draco asked heatedly. "Stupid Muggles."

Tonks ignored him, and parked the car. She swung out of her seat and outside deftly. Draco scowled. His T-shirt (one of his cousin's, unfortunately) was sticking to his seat, and Tonks wasn't opening the car door for him. Annoyed, he spent a minute fiddling with the handle on the side of the door, until he figured out that he needed to pull it to make the door snap open. "Where are we?" he asked.

"Piccadilly Circus," she said.

Draco glanced around. There weren't any elephants nearby, and he had heard that all circuses had elephants. What a crappy circus. He followed Tonks into a shop with brightly coloured T-shirts and what Muggles called shorts in the windows. Up my arse if I'm going to wear those, he thought, looking distastefully at the clothes.

Tonks shoved a pile of colourful T-shirts into Draco's unknowing arms. Draco dropped them promptly. "I am not wearing these," he hissed.

"Oh?" Tonks asked challengingly. "Then what will you wear?"

Draco sneered, and led her to a shop down the street with black, stylish clothes in the windows. He didn't notice Tonks blanch as she looked at the prices, and walked straight in. There were signs above each of the sections. "Gucci," Draco muttered to himself. "Nah. Stupid name. Louis Vutton. Stupid. Dior," he said. "Hmm..."

The Dior section had many slinky black garments in it. Draco was delighted, though he would never have admitted it. Muggles had robes! A heavily scented woman stared at him incredulously as he skipped into the Dior section, making a beeline for the black robes. He started lifting them off the racks, one after the other. Before Tonks had even caught up, Draco had holed himself in a changing room, and had the robes on. Tonks was breathing heavily when Draco had opened the door, wearing the robes. "Well?" he asked haughtily. "Muggles are strange. These robes have a low back, and the front part sags on me," he said, looking at all the space between his body and the robes. "Maybe they keep stuff in here."

Tonks just stared at him. Then she let out a whoop of laughter, causing many people to turn and look at them briefly before going back to their shopping, shaking their heads. "That's a dress!" Tonks said finally. "Women wear them! Not men!"

Draco gazed owlishly at his cousin. "You wear trousers," he said.

"No, we wear both," Tonks said. "You wear trousers."

Draco gazed at the robes. "But I like these robes," he said.

Tonks mouthed wordlessly. "Fine," she said. "It's worth the money to see you look like an idiot," she added, pulling out her wallet.

Draco changed back into the T-shirt and jeans Tonks had lent him (Draco wondered where Tonks had gotten the jeans, as they were clearly not hers), and headed over to the section labelled 'Armani', where a number of stylish Muggle suits were waiting for him.

"No, no, no!" Tonks said, dragging him away from the suits. "I don't have enough money!" She dragged him past the 'Inexpensive' section (featuring Aeropostale, Nike, and Adidas sportswear) and out the door.

"Then where are we going?" Draco asked, wincing as Tonks' fingernails clamped on his arm. "I am not going into that fruity shop again." Tonks just looked at him strangely.

***

Draco Malfoy was very proud of his new dress/robes. Tonks had gone somewhere (she wouldn't tell him where) after the shopping trip, muttering about how Draco was fussier than a girl, and that he spent too much time preening himself.

It was probably true, Draco reflected. Smirking, he looked at himself. The space in the front was still bothering him, so he stuffed his pink blouse into the space. There. It made him look like a he-she, but he was in his robes.

Grinning, he stepped outside, ignoring the looks he got from the red-faced, fat man with a bushy moustache and the long-necked blonde woman who were having tea with Draco's neighbour. The lady was saying something. "Vernon, look! There's a cross-dresser!"

Draco rolled his eyes and continued on (intent on showing himself off), ignoring the group of neighbourhood children who passed him. His happy mood was interrupted by a snarky voice saying, "Well, look, it looks like Potter's boyfriend is a cross-dresser."

Big D was standing behind him, his full gang behind. "Er... hello," Draco said. "Nice sunset, eh?" he added weakly.

"Yeah," Big D said. "And you know what would make it nicer, blondie?"

"N-no," Draco said.

"Beating you up," Big D said simply.

"But you beat me up yesterday," Draco said reasonably. "Go beat... Potter up or something."

"Not a very good boyfriend, are you?" Big D said scathingly.

"I'm not his boyfriend! For your information, I go out with..."

"Who cares?" Big D said. He peered at the dress/robes. "Nice style. Dior. Maybe I can sell it." He ripped the dress off Draco, and the pink blouse flew out of it. Draco was left standing only in his boxers (black with green Ms all over) and his shoes.

"Give that back!" Draco said, lunging for the dress/robes.

The spotty boy next to Big D sneered, and started forward. Draco swore, and ran in the opposite direction, screaming loudly as the gang followed him. Maybe Potter would save him again. He was a Gryffindor, after all.

Well, at least it can't get any worse than this, Draco thought.

And then came the laugh.

The dreaded laugh.

The horrible laugh of Draco's worst nightmares (well, maybe not that much).

An awful, familiar laugh that Draco did not want to hear until September the first. But it couldn't be. Draco knew he lived in a dump somewhere. Not here. It could not be Weasley. No bloody way.

"Where is Tonks, anyway?" Potter was saying. "She did divert Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, right? And she's taking us to Grimmauld Place?"

"Down the street, in the car," said another familiar voice. Draco blanched. Just when he had thought nothing could be worse, the Mudblood showed up. Stupid Murphy.

"It was co..." Weasley stopped abruptly. Draco knew why. They had spotted him from their position. Draco knew that it looked very incriminating. A Malfoy running away from a gang, nearly naked, the leader of the gang waving a black dress.

Draco squealed and pushed Weasley aside, going into the house they had just left. Granger rushed in after him, shouting. "Where do you think you're going? What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" Draco said as he rushed through the house, searching for something that would help him. "Who's the bloke with the gun in this neighbourhood?" he asked, rushing back out of the house, and smacking into Big D.

Big D grabbed him by the neck. He pushed him. Draco screamed like a girl and grabbed onto the nearest object to steady himself. Unfortunately, he ended up pulling Potter down with him. Potter let out a string of loud, colourful swear words that made Granger gasp and Weasley whoop.

And then the spotty boy ran from his position, jumped, and landed with a thud on Draco and Potter. "Isn't this getting old?" Draco groaned.

The second boy lunged forward, followed by the third boy. And then, again, the large slab of bacon with hair started forward, puffing heavily. Weasley and Granger were yelling something.

Oh, the pain he was going to be in the next morning...

"Hey Piers, are you alive?" the boy on top of the spotty boy asked worriedly.

"Who gives a damn whether Polkiss is alive or not?" Potter yelled. The other boys quickly rolled off as the shaking blob of jelly left the ground. Potter managed to escape mere moments before it landed. But poor Draco...

Isn't this a bit old now? he thought. And I thought it couldn't get any worse...

Stupid Murphy.