To do the Unspeakable

Chapter Two

Tapping his chin with a pale, pointy finger, Draco critically studied his profile in front of his bedroom mirror.

Although Muggle clothing was undoubtedly what he now needed to wear, he still had yet to get used to the entirely different style of clothing. Like right now, for instance. The black top that currently moulded itself to every curve and dip in his slender torso, the low slung denim jeans - the name the Muggle officers at the Ministry had given him - that barely covered his hips. To be perfectly frank, Draco almost felt ... naked.

Up until this very moment, or rather the moment he had relented to doing this ridiculous case, he'd spent the entirety of his life with an expensive robe of some style or design around his shoulders. Robes for casual wear ... robes for formal events ... there was practically a robe to fit every occasion in wizarding culture.

Never, in all that time had Draco really worried about what lay underneath. It wasn't something that was usually in plain sight, let alone the focal point of an outfit. Merlin, one person he'd been with hadn't worn anything under their fancy robes - not that he had complained at the time - and Draco was certain there were many more just like him who preferred to just worry about their robes.

It certainly didn't seem to be the case here in the Muggle realm. From the two weeks he'd spent in that dreadful Muggle integration course, then the time he had spent acquiring his new wardrobe, he'd learnt that not only were robes not the main attraction in a Muggle outfit, but it was those very under garments he'd only previously taken for granted that were.

And there were so many varieties. Different colours, different styles, different names. Usually Draco was up to speed in all areas of wizarding fashion, choosing only the best to wear of course, but all these Muggle clothes were just too many for him to familiarise himself with.

Biting his lip, Draco twisted and turned a few more times, running his fingers up and down the black, almost velvet-like top.

"But I guess that this is one Muggle way of life I won't mind adapting to," he eventually decided aloud, nodding to himself. He looked good.

His reflection agreed wholeheartedly. "I think you look absolutely fabulous," the mirror gushed.

Draco smirked in return - he knew it had been a good idea to sneak in his favourite mirror from home - before grabbing a jacket and walking out of his bedroom to meet Marty.

~*~

Half an hour later, Draco was stepping into what was known as the "uni bar"; a small, but rowdy looking bar situated in the middle of the university campus.

His first impression of the place was far from reassuring. Instead of it just being a step down from the places he tended to go in the wizarding world, it was more like a jump off a cliff. The inside of the building, like the rest of the university was crumbling and way too cramped, the lights were too dim, and the overall smell of the place ... well let's just say that the mixture of sweat, alcohol and the smoke from those distasteful Muggle cigarettes didn't make a particularly positive aroma for his palate. As a matter of fact, the whole atmosphere of the place almost seemed to scream "Hog's Head", the ghastly pub in Hogsmeade that Draco had once been forced to go to.

Despite the almost stifling humidity of the pub, a shiver coursed through Draco's veins. He preferred not to think of that particular time in his life. Both unpleasant and eye opening, that event five years ago had had the ability to consequently destroy and save life as he had once known it.

Draco would have shivered again, but years of suppressing all emotion from both himself and those around him soon had him focusing back on Marty, who'd continued chatting regardless of Draco's inattention.

"-buy us some drinks."

He waved his agreement for the Muggle to go, content to just stay put by the entrance for a little while longer.

Having the chance to survey the place some more, Draco put his Auror training to good use, noting the various entrances and exits in the pub, and any suspicious looking characters.

Finding nothing out of the ordinary, Draco leant against the wall and belatedly hoped that him being there tonight wasn't going to be a disaster waiting to happen. If one wasn't to take into consideration the brief brushing of shoulders with Granger during the war, and that short, drunken interlude with that Hufflepuff Finch-Fletchley, apart from Marty, he'd never really mingled with people associated with Muggles before. Pleasantries aside - which, with his upbringing came to him naturally - what on earth did Muggles have to talk about?

Draco stifled a scowl as some sweaty, loud-mouthed Muggle crashed into him from behind. Salazar knew how he was going to manage it tonight without hexing one of these uncivilised goons. He discreetly fingered his sleeve, where his wand was currently strapped.

"Drake, over here!"

Quickly snatching his hand away from his wand, he watched as Marty emerged from the thick crowd of Muggles and cheerfully sidled up to him with their drinks.

More Muggle alcohol. Accepting a bottle, Draco somehow managed not to grimace at the bitter taste of his drink as he took a sip. Great.

He received a nudge from Marty, and grudgingly, he followed his Muggle flatmate deeper into the place to find his friends. It didn't take long. Despite the intensity and sheer number of the people present in the pub, part of the 'gang' were clearly visible in a booth on the other side of the bar.

As they approached the booth, Draco was able to see the 'gang' - somehow they'd acquired apostrophe marks in Draco's mind - three men and one woman, all of who were comfortably squeezed in together.

It took another few steps before Draco realised all of who were also staring back at him quite unabashedly.

For a brief, irrational moment, he had the skin crawling feeling of wondering what it might be like to be Harry Potter.

He grimaced, quickly shaking that thought off. He'd already thought enough about Potter that day, and feeling even the smallest bit of pity towards his school nemesis just wasn't ever going to happen.

Again.

"Soo," Marty called out. He flashed a sheepish grin at Draco, which clearly told him the Muggle too had noticed everyone's rapid attention towards him. Reluctantly, the booth's occupants turned to their friend, and Marty placed a friendly hand on Draco's shoulder. "Everybody this is Drake. He'll hopefully be a new addition to our family from now on."

There was a chorus of welcoming "Hello," "Hey," and "What's up," and Marty motioned Draco to squeeze in on side, slipping into the opposite side himself. Only then did he begin to point out everyone in the booth.

"The cheeky guy smiling next to you is Tyler," he said, the brunette's solemn face raising an eyebrow before warmly shaking Draco's hand. "Then there's Ally--" He pointed towards the only woman, a redhead with freckles and unfortunately many other Weasel-like characteristics. "--Domick the schmuck--" The dusty blonde stuck his finger up at Marty who laughed, "--and the lout next to me trying to feel me up is Sam."

Sam, a cheeky looking blonde who had been quick to place one arm around Marty's shoulders, gave an innocent shrug then also extended out a hand for Draco to shake. His hand was warm and strong in Draco's, and Draco fancied that the long, taper-like fingers squeezed a second longer than was necessary.

"So you're new to this hellhole," Sam joked when he'd settled himself back into the booth. "I'd like to say welcome, but really my gut instinct is just wanting to tell you to run."

Draco gave a tight smile, thinking mine too. "Yes, well I just moved in to Marty's apartment today. So I'm afraid I'm stuck here for now."

Surprising Draco, the redhead practically spat out her drink.

"That's right," she gasped out, choking. "I forgot he was actually getting a permanent roommate." She turned to Draco with mock sympathy in her eyes. "I really give my condolences."

Marty grinned at Draco over the table. "Don't worry, I'm not that bad," he reassured him. "She's just jealous I never invited her to stay over."

"Oh no, I know I'm the wrong sex for that," Ally shot back, then instantly clapped both hands over her mouth in horror as she cast a sidelong glance at Draco. "I - you - you know a-about Marty - Marty's condition..." she trailed off, obviously stricken that she'd inadvertently revealed too much.

Marty gently kicked Draco under the table again, and shook his head slightly. Draco took that as an indication for him not to reveal anything yet.

Well, Draco could play along with that rather Slytherin-esque plan. It sure squashed the childish urge to tell her that her face looked grossly unflattering when it matched her hair colour.

"What condition?" he asked, his face the perfect picture of innocence.

As Ally spluttered, turning an even brighter red, Draco caught Marty stifling an evil grin.

Marty waited a few more moments of spluttering before finally deciding to have mercy on her. In Draco's opinion, it was too soon.

"Not to worry, Al," he said at last, letting a wide grin spread across his face. "Drake already guessed my colourful preferences, and apparently doesn't mind in the slightest."

Ally's mouth opened into a slight 'O' as realisation struck. Then, a glare Draco knew extremely well appeared in her eyes, one that promised acts of murder towards the two now smirking men.

With an ease that displayed this scene happened quite often, Sam quickly defused the situation, leering good-naturedly, "Well Drake here is a fine specimen of a man, isn't he?" Tyler and Domick exchanged amused glances as Sam added, "Makes one wonder which preference he might lean towards."

The booth's occupants turned expectantly to him.

Obviously not one for subtlety, Draco mused darkly, and cursed himself for not thinking about an adequate answer sooner. Bloody Ministry and their undercover operation. He was damned if he admitted the truth, and he was damned if he didn't and had his handy little cover blown because he couldn't get along or fit in with the Muggles he was placed upon.

"I-" he began eventually, a complete lie on the tip of his tongue.

Fortunately, luck decided to strike at the opportune moment. A girl came to a screeching halt in front of their table, sighing exasperatedly.

"There you all are!" she exclaimed, and promptly nudged Marty and Sam's legs until she could squeeze her way in next to Domick. "So who's the cutie?" she asked, after giving Domick a quick peck on the lips.

This time, Sam answered instead of Marty. "The cutie is Drake," he introduced slyly.

The girl smiled pleasantly, and leant forward to unexpectedly take Draco's hand in a firm handshake. "I'm Lisa."

"Our regular fag hag," Marty supplied cheerily, taking a swig of his beer, "and Domick's girlfriend."

"And mother hen to boot," Sam muttered to the side.

Domick stifled a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Lisa shot her boyfriend an annoyed look. "Speaking of mothers, how's your dear Mumsy?" She directed this at Sam, looking altogether smug.

At Draco's confused expression, Tyler leant over to quietly tell him that Sam's mother was a sore point for him since he had to live off-campus with the battle-axe.

Draco winced in sympathy. After his father's arrest, he'd had to endure the summer holidays with his mother as his main source of company (he was deliberately excluding any and all Death Eaters who might have visited in that time). Although he had loved her dearly, it had hardly been memorable.

Sam laughed unpredictably, surprising nearly everyone else on the table.

"She's been passed out on the couch," he declared, pausing dramatically, before, "ever since I told her I needed out of the house tonight so I could get laid by some guy with a huge cock."

The entire booth filled with laughter. If Draco's mouth had been full, he would have most assuredly choked at that moment, like Domick was currently doing. The now teary-eyed man had tried unsuccessfully to laugh and swallow his drink at the same time. Tyler thumped him on the back, until he could catch his breath again, stifling a chuckle of his own.

Wiping his own tear-filled eyes, Marty raised his bottle of beer in a toast. "Here's to dear old Mumsy," he said through laughs.

Everyone else at the table followed suit, Draco's toast slightly unsure, and there was a melodious chime as all their bottles and glasses clinked together. "To Mumsy."

The next few hours proved to be an entirely different experience for Draco. The camaraderie between the group and the ease with which they shared their innermost secrets fascinated and horrified him to no end. Fascinated that they had the courage to spill their most embarrassing or humiliating moments, and horrified that they didn't seem to realise the distinct possibility that those very events or moments were going to fall in the wrong hands and eventually get used against them.

Back in his Slytherin days, and to be perfectly honest, even afterwards, most elements of his life were never shared with anyone other than his own sub-conscious. Disregarding the obvious issues such as his father's "Death Eater" persona, his wealth and where his family's beliefs had all once fallen, his self-preservation instinct had always kicked in and stopped him from revealing any other private issues in his life. In Slytherin, even the smallest mention of his favourite food could have proven to be harmful. Who knew if someone wouldn't just use that information to poison him later on in life?

And that's why he found it so hard to believe that this group of Muggles found it to be almost second nature to blurt out practically everything going on in their lives. From flirting with a uni lecturer to boost the mark by ten percent to hearing about Lisa's parents finding her in bed with Domick - it was all such good blackmail material, but nobody even thought twice about it. Sure, there was teasing and ribbing when they were revealed, but soon enough the issues were dropped, and someone else added something even more outrageous to the fray.

He'd said it before, but he'd say it again. It was definitely going to take some time to become acclimatised with all things Muggle.

~*~

Somewhere in between his sixth or maybe seventh Muggle drink - not knowing the types of Muggle alcohol, he let Marty and the others buy him whatever they fancied - Draco realised he was becoming quite intoxicated. Twice, he had almost been tempted to admit a few home truths about his own horror of a life, which was a sign of definite overindulgence.

So when the topic once again drifted towards people's preferences, Draco remained oblivious to the danger that was lurking ahead, choosing to take another blissful sip from his tropical coloured drink. Just as he was grudgingly admitting to himself that Muggle drinks weren't so bad after all, Marty slapped Sam's hand away from his lower regions for the umpteenth time.

"For fuck's sake, Sam." he said, exasperated. "If you're that horny, get Tyler to take you to Joe's for a while. I'm sure you'll find someone there to occupy your time."

Sam leaned back against the headboard, unperturbed, and slowly moved his arm until it was behind Marty's head. "Actually, I was hoping that since your - boyfriend ain't here, I could maybe borrow you for a while." He had the nerve to grin audaciously.

"Not a chance."

Looking like a kicked house-elf for a brief moment, Sam shrugged it off, took another sip of his drink, then seemed to get a better idea.

He turned to Draco, who raised an eyebrow in return.

"You never did end up telling us which way you swung, Drakey," he said, a hint of hopefulness creeping into his slightly slurring voice, "maybe I could still get lucky."

Silently cursing the use of his better forgotten nickname, it took a while before Draco's mind caught up with the rest of what Sam had said.

Then Draco's brain froze.

Even thinking back to that night, he still didn't know why he answered the way he did. Perhaps it was from the reaction that copious amounts of unknown Muggle alcohol had in his system, or that it was the first time since he was a small child that he'd been able to confide in anyone his age. All he knew was that one moment his mouth was closed, then the next his mind decided to hell with the consequences, and his mouth was open and the truth just came spilling out.

"I've never been bothered defining myself," he found himself saying. "I mean why limit yourself to just one preference?"

"So you're bi-sexual?" Tyler speculated thoughtfully. Draco thought he detected understanding in those dreamy chocolate eyes of his.

Uh oh, I'm really drunk. I should just cut my losses and apparate back to the apartment.

It was a pity his mouth didn't seem to want to listen, though inwardly he mused that it was a wonder he could still manage such large words without too much slurring involved.

"You could generalise it like that, though it's not so much a one-way street. Sometimes I seem to go one way for a long amount of time - then I go the other way. To be honest, lately, I've been thinking that I really do prefer to go with the male aspect more." Draco remembered back to the last wizard he'd slept with - how one night with him had been more satisfying than a week with a witch.

Sam smiled. "I'll drink to that."

Marty didn't say anything at first; studying him with an intense look in his eyes. I hope he's not thinking of hitting on me, Draco thought drunkenly. If the Ministry found out I fucked a Muggle I lived with, I'll be dead.

"So why have you been thinking that way recently?" the Muggle thankfully asked instead.

Draco shrugged. "Well, I guess wiz-guys are less likely to become - emotionally attached. Usually, a fuck is a fuck, and you don't usually have to worry about men saying they want kids and so on."

"And their bloody white picket fences," Sam cursed.

Draco completely missed the Muggle reference but continued on, "Now that I think about it more, I only really kept the option available to women, because of how I was brought up. My parents always imbedded the knowledge that one day I would grow up, get married to some broad, and have kids who would continue the grand old family name." Draco snorted to show how much he thought about that.

"So why aren't you married to some broad yet?" Sam also showed his scorn for that. No doubt his mother was similar in that regard too.

"Both my parents died, and I decided I didn't like the family name too much anyway." He paused before adding snidely, "Not to mention that the only real prospects to marry looked more like breeds of dog, than pu- humans."

He shut his mouth abruptly. Purebloods around the world would have a wand to his throat after that comment, but by Salazar did it feel good to get that off his chest.

Incredulous silence met Draco's words for several long moments. Then laughter once again became the main attraction.

"So Drake here is tempted by both sexes," Sam noted a while after. The very thought of it had the other man rubbing his hands in glee, and if Draco had been sober, he would have appreciated that fact more than he was now. "Another one to add to the fray."

Another voice suddenly joined the conversation. "Hmm ... as long as Drake here doesn't start hitting on my property, I won't have a problem."

The unexpected voice came directly behind Draco.

He spun around in alarm. However, facing a smiling, laid-back looking sort of guy who immediately sat beside Marty and wrapped a possessive arm around unresisting shoulders, made him relax somewhat.

Ah, this must be Marty's lover, Draco's rather sluggish mind realised, vaguely remembering the name Marty had supplied earlier. Dan whatsit.

"What are you doing here?" Marty asked, after more introductions had been made. "I thought you had work tonight?"

The other man, Dan, smirked knowingly. "I skived off," he replied, "so shoot me." Marty whispered something in his ear, making him laugh and nod. "Later."

Sam sighed theatrically. "What we wouldn't all give to hear what you just said."

Dan flipped him the bird before looking around for something. What it was, Draco couldn't guess until he spoke. "So where's ol' James tonight?" he asked, taking a lengthy sip from Marty's beer.

Draco surreptitiously waited for the answer. Apart from the few times James' name had been mentioned in passing, this was the first direct mention of James all night. It was rather surprising as he seemed to be Marty's best friend.

Tyler stopped his chat with Domick to turn to Dan and Marty. "He didn't feel up to it tonight," he informed them, "Said he had work to be catching up on."

"Haven't seen him 'round for a while," Dan noted with some disappointment. "Not since he disappeared with those strange friends of his again."

Draco's eyebrow rose. What kind of friends, he wondered?

Marty gave Dan a warning look, obviously catching Draco's expression.

"Bringing up this 'James' again I see," said Draco, sipping at his drink and trying not to act as interested as he was. Perhaps this James was one of those involved in his case. "What's with him? He seems awfully mysterious."

Domick laughed. "That's our James. Dark and mysterious - and just a little brooding to put in the mix. We've been friends with him for over a year now and we still know next to nothing about him."

Lisa added, "Other than being almost compulsively obsessive about his work, and then the odd disappearance now and again."

Marty was now eyeing him strangely, but Draco felt as though he was getting somewhere. "Disappearance?"

"He has the odd habit of disappearing into thin air for a few days, then appearing again as if nothing had ever happened. No explanations, no nothing."

"And according to Tyler, he doesn't even come back to his apartment in those times," Ally supplied.

Draco turned to Tyler, who shrugged uncomfortably under the attention, obviously not wanting to elaborate.

Lisa, however, looked ready to add even more to the mystery. She went to open her mouth but Marty abruptly cut her off, by standing up.

"Well, I'm up for another drink," he announced. "and I think it's about time you girls get your lazy arses up and help me get another round."

Not accepting any "no" 's for an answer, he quickly proceeded to pull up the two girls and Dan with him. Whether or not it was done deliberately - Draco suspected the latter - it effectively ended Draco's hopes of any more information, as it seemed that Tyler was unwilling to contribute and Sam and Domick were arguing over some Muggle sport.

However, after a few minutes of awkward silence between the two, he was proved wrong.

"Marty's a bit protective over James," Tyler eventually said in a deep, low voice. Draco followed the Muggle's gaze over to Marty, who was laughing in between Lisa and Ally. "Treats him like his little brother even though they're around the same age."

Draco guessed Marty was around 25 years old, and assumed this James was something close to it.

"Why?"

"James has got no family - and Marty helped him through some pretty rough times."

"Were they - ever together?" Draco ventured carefully, getting the feeling from Marty's earlier comment that something had once happened between the two.

Tyler scratched at his head. "Uh, they were kinda together for a short while. Nothing serious or anything. I think James just needed to mess around with someone until he found that special one - and well Marty - apart from Sam, he's usually never one to say no to anyone, especially to a catch like James."

Catch like James, huh, thought Draco, taking another gulp of his almost empty Muggle drink. He definitely seems to be a phenomenon.

"Hmm," was all he had to say in return, keeping his thoughts to himself. He finished the drink almost absently.

There was definitely something about this James, and he intended to find out exactly what it was.

~*~

The next morning arrived unwelcome for the young Auror.

First, a strange buzzing by his ear had disrupted his slumber around dawn. With his head pounding mercilessly, Draco was not in the mood for any sort of noise and had spared no time in pulling out his wand and muttering a curse in its vague direction to get it to shut the hell up.

Fortunately, that had proved successful, and he'd drifted back into a peaceful sleep.

However, a few short hours later, he was once again awoken abruptly. This time by the slam of his door.

"Hey, Drake, you're going to be late - whoa, what the heck did you do to my alarm clock?"

Draco opened one eye and looked up at the annoyingly hyperactive Muggle standing in front of him.

"Bugger off, or you'll suffer the same fate."

The blurry form that was Marty didn't budge. "Yeah - so I'm thinking you need a good old sip of Marty's famous hangover mix." He retreated from Draco's sight for a few minutes, sounds clanking from the kitchen, then walked back in with a large, steaming mug. "Here, have a bit. It's guaranteed to knock the effects of alcohol right out of your system."

Reluctantly, as it seemed Marty wasn't going to accept another expletive as an answer, Draco pushed himself up into a sitting position and took hold of the offered mug.

He looked at it doubtfully. Maybe this was like the Hangover Potion Severus usually supplied him. Who knew what these Muggles did?

When he tasted it though, the truth made itself known.

"What is in this tripe?" Draco gasped, once he'd managed to convince the first positively horrendous gulp to stay down in his stomach.

Marty shuffled his feet, for the first time looking a bit awkward. "Ah - it's actually based on a remedy that James makes for us, but I kind of ran out of his supply and just decided to make my own."

"It - It's awful," Draco choked out.

"Yeah, but it helped, right?"

Draco didn't even have to think about it. "No," he replied, then promptly pulled the covers back over his head.

Covers that were just as quickly yanked off.

"Get up!"

Groaning, Draco had no choice but to climb out of bed, promising himself that once he solved this case, he was going to slip some fast working poison into the mugs of the Muggle Department.

And the whole Auror Department to boot.

~*~

"Good morning," Tyler chirped, greeting Marty and Draco once they'd stepped outside their door. Draco noticed with some annoyance that the other Muggle looked unnaturally awake for somebody who had almost fallen the entire length of the staircase the night before. "Ready for your first day of university?"

Draco grunted unintelligibly. The shower and some Muggle medication he'd taken earlier had eased his headache somewhat, but he couldn't remember ever being this hung over. How could Muggles remain so unaffected by it?

"What do you have first?"

Once again, Draco grunted, dragging his feet along the ground.

Marty stopped. "You've already enrolled in all your classes, right?"

Draco hesitated, before giving a slow nod. The Ministry had done that for him, hadn't they? During the two-week integration course, he seemed to vaguely recall them saying something about preparing everything he needed to go to university. Classes were sure to be included, right?

"Oh, well," Tyler faltered slightly, probably at the look of confusion that was sure to be present on Draco's face, "all you need to do is collect your schedule from the main office then."

"Where would that be?"

Tyler brightened visibly. "I'll show you," he announced. "I've got nothing for an hour, so I'll be happy to take you there and then onto your first class."

True to his word, Tyler did, and soon enough, Draco had in his hand his new torturous schedule for Muggle University. Tyler peered over his shoulder and quickly read aloud what Draco was only just reading himself.

"Hmm ... History next. Looks like you've got a full plate this semester."

Draco made a non-committal noise at the back of his throat. It didn't really matter what classes he was given. Just as long as he went to them and kept up appearances as Drake Malloy, the Muggle uni student, then the case could be solved and he could go back home.

Instead of leaving him to wander around the university aimlessly, Tyler ended up also guiding Draco to his first class of the day, all the while cheerfully regaling him with the many tales of his and the others' first days at university. Draco laughed and grimaced at the appropriate times, just like he was expected too, but when he spoke, his speech was stilted and at times quite short.

A hard habit to break from his life as a Malfoy and a Slytherin, it seemed.

Tyler didn't seem to mind it though. On the contrary, one time when Draco made a rather cutting remark about the university's bathroom facilities, Tyler even laughed and admitted that Draco's personality was quite refreshing.

It was almost with an air of reluctance that Draco finally reached the room. Agreeing to meet Tyler for lunch after class, he swaggered into the large theatre with minutes to spare.

His first impression of the Muggle circular theatre wasn't very pleasing, apart from the initial surprise at how many seats there were, and how many of them had already been taken. He'd never known so many Muggles studied at this university. His post-school Auror classes had not even included a quarter of the amount of people that were already seated.

They breed like the Weasleys, Draco mused, smoothly sitting himself down in the middle of the very back row - in the perfect line of sight to see everything. He doubted he would find out anything useful about the case in this class, but his Auror instincts just naturally kicked in these days. And as the Ministry had unfortunately stressed, he needed to have an adequate cover in case the situation did end up to be more serious than originally thought.

Draco was personally beginning to think that that wasn't going to happen though, and that the people responsible for the recent dark activity were merely bitter squibs trying out illegal but useless spells to improve their magic. It had happened many times before, and Draco was almost starting to feel sorry for the unfortunate souls.

Almost.

As a smirk crossed his face, a Muggle quickly slipped into the seat beside him, and gave him a frazzled look. "This is History 101, isn't it?" he asked quickly. "I'm new here."

Considering that the board had, in large writing, the words 'History 101' posted on it, Draco could barely contain his derision, and promptly pointed it out. The Muggle instantly flushed in embarrassment, and turning away from Draco, stared at the books in front of him as if they were the most important things in the world.

Draco snorted, carelessly pulling out his own book. Muggles.

Now that he came to think about it, whatever did give those bumbling idiots back at the Ministry the idea that History would be an adequate subject for him to take? He'd only taken the stupid wizarding topic to NEWT level at Hogwarts because it was a prerequisite to become an Auror, not because he actually enjoyed listening to Binns drone on about yet another Goblin riot. Good gods, at the rate he used to shoot off to sleep in that class, he would have been better off doing the Muggle equivalent of Divination.

Besides, why on earth would he want to learn about the history of Muggles? Surely the Ministry didn't think that by forcing him to take this class, he'd actually start liking them? Admittedly, Marty and the people he had met last night weren't entirely awful, but from his own - albeit slightly limited - experience of Muggles, their history was not only inferior to the magical world's, but hardly included anything on which to be proud of.

No, in his opinion, he wasn't going to become a Muggle lover or sympathiser anytime soon. He'd already become the shame of his family - he wasn't about to add to that when at least some honoured purebloods left in the wizarding world remained by his side.

He bit back a frustrated sigh. Still, that was hardly going to help the situation he was in now. Changing topics was probably nigh on impossible; the Ministry wouldn't allow it, especially if they caught wind that it was because he just didn't like it.

At that moment, Draco's attention was diverted over to the front of the room as the door situated there swung open, and who Draco assumed to be the lecturer - an old man with a horrible comb-over - walked through and over to the podium to ask for everyone's attention.

"... All right," he said without further ado, his crackling old voice sounding oddly amplified. Draco gave a mental note to himself to find out how Muggles did that without a 'Sonorus'. "Welcome to History 101. There's an extensive amount of historical events we'll be covering this semester, so I'd like to start immediately on the subject of the English Civil war in the mid-17th century between King Charles I and his supporters, and his opponents in the Parliament. An essay will be due for this in the next month, so let's open our textbooks to page 566 to pick up on the Second Civil War where Charles was eventually tried on the grounds of treason and subsequently executed in 1649 ..."

The lecturer's voice trailed off as he turned the page, and opening his own book, Draco stifled a groan, contemplating whether the Muggle and Auror Departments could still function if he did follow through with his promise to have all their current workers poisoned off. They just all seemed too Slytherin for his tastes, with the courses he would undoubtedly have in store for him.

Very, very grudgingly, Draco forced aside his moral objections to the ridiculous topic, he'd have time to do that in his next meeting with Moody; settling himself into the task of pulling out a featherless quill from his book bag and jotting down the main points of page 566. It didn't matter if he had next to nothing in common with what was being taught in this Muggle class. He'd made do in many useless classes before, he'd make do now.

Twenty minutes into the class, and his eyes slowly losing their battle to remain open, Draco looked over at the Muggle from before snoring slightly, and sleepily conceded that maybe Muggles and wizards weren't much different from each other after all.

If their reaction to History class was any consideration.

~*~

For the second time in two days, Draco almost collapsed on the way up the long, winding stairs leading to his apartment. The nap he'd inevitably had in History hadn't done much to revive him for the rest of the day's classes, and by the end of the day, he was completely drained. Not since Hogwarts had he been required to sit in classes as boring as that, nor had he been required to learn about things he'd only just recently touched upon himself.

He scoffed aloud, climbing the last step. Really, what a waste of time his French lesson was. All he needed was a simple translation charm. Then he'd be able to speak the language fluent enough people could almost mistake him to be a native of France.

Reaching the door to his apartment, he tiredly dropped his heavy bag by his feet and fumbled in his pocket for his keys. His not-so-nimble fingers took a while to find exactly where he'd last put the blasted things, and after resisting the urge to just pull out his wand and 'alohomora' the door open, he eventually found the right key; slotting it neatly into the lock and twisting it open.

A loud chorus of boisterous shouting and laughing filled Draco's ears as soon as he entered the apartment, and discarding his robe- no, coat on the coat-rack and his bag on the ground, he couldn't help but grin wryly.

It appears uni life doesn't daunt Muggles as much, he thought, turning his head towards to the kitchen, where it sounded like they all were.

With another grin, he headed towards the kitchen and through the kitchen doorway, where he was proved correct. The whole group of people he'd met the night before were all present, the majority sitting around the small bench laughing and drinking.

On closer inspection though, Draco noticed another person in the mix; a slim, black haired man, who was sitting at the kitchen with his back facing Draco. From the way he sat and the way the others talked so easily to him, he guessed that the raven-haired man must be the illustrious James.

Not yet noticed by anyone inside, Draco stared at the other man's back for a moment longer. He couldn't quite place the strange feelings that had suddenly arisen at the sight of that man; familiarity and recognition, maybe, both of which made absolutely no sense. He couldn't possibly know this Muggle already, could he?

Draco quickly dismissed the ridiculous thoughts, stepping into the room. He probably only felt he knew the man because of how much everybody had been talking about him. Also because he could possibly be a suspect in his case. What other reason could there be?

"Drake!"

As expected, everybody immediately noticed him when he walked inside the kitchen, greeting him with exuberant shouts, and in Lisa's case, an enthusiastic hug.

"Drakey!" she cried out, her arms latching glue-like to Draco.

Draco's arms remained stiffly by his side. If there was one thing that Draco didn't do, it was being hugged. And usually, he had no qualms about telling people that he just wasn't into them. That they were too emotional and useless and he'd grown out of them by the time he'd reached Hogwarts.

But, as his mouth opened to do just that, his eyes caught something far more interesting, and he found himself forgetting all about some inconsequential hug.

In fact, he found himself forgetting about abso-fucking-lutely everything.

For at that very moment, the man he had suspected to be the infamous James had slowly dropped his legs off the stool he was sitting on, and turned around to face him.

Over Lisa's shoulder, Draco could only gape dumbly at the familiar emerald eyes and the familiar clump of messy, raven-black hair that were now clearly and undoubtedly in view.

"Potter?"

~*~