25 Minutes

Disclaimer: Let’s get this out of the way. I have no hold
over any of J.K.R’s intellectual property, or massive wealth. I just wanna see
Draco-honey’s pale ass in drag.

25 Minutes

Draco Malfoy stared down into his
mug of … something and watched a stranger look back at him. He wasn’t one of
the best potions students just because Snape had favored him. Even though Snape
wasn’t even the Potions Master of Hogwarts this year, Draco was still good.

Narcissa had taught him to mix
poisons and to nullify them by the time he was seven. He even knew how to cure
acne and make butterbeer. Brewing the Polyjuice Potion was no great feat.

Getting the hair had been harder
than the actual preparation. A visit to Hogsmead and
a few random passersby had served quite handily. When he hadn’t been caught.
After that, getting out of the castle proper had been easy.

The Room of Requirement had provided
a very useful map of passageways and tunnels. A few had been used recently; the
footprints in the dust were fresh. But it didn’t matter who else might have
used the tunnels as long as Draco himself could escape.

Tonight he was a young woman with
black hair. Probably just old enough to order alcohol.

He/she sat alone in the Hogshead
pondering a mug of what was probably bog water. It was good to be alone. The
robes Draco was wearing were well-worn, borrowed from some Hufflepuff chaser
that was the same size as the Polyjuice body.

He was always careful with the Polyjuice
bodies, trying the potion before going out. Finding robes to fit and shoes as
well, figuring out how to walk was a grand trial in the stupid women’s shoes.
Decide if said women needed make-up or the men needed a shave.

He never looked when the body was
naked between changes. He didn’t respect their privacy, no. He had copped a
feel or two before but he just didn’t want to look down and not see Draco Jr.

He/she pulled out a pocket watch,
charmed to look as worn as the robes. Twenty-five minutes before she became a
he again. Briefly ‘she’ wondered what kind of rumors would go around if Draco
Malfoy were seen in a shabby bar wearing women’s robes and lipstick.

Probably the kind that would make
Narcissa take to her bed and some puffed up male relative to fly to the school
and teach him how to be a Malfoy all over again.

Just seventeen minutes now until
people started whispering about family madness and his love-affair with Ron
Weasly.

That thought was enough to make class=GramE>he/she finish the what-ever-it-was in one gulp. It tasted
like mud and burned all the way down his throat. Disgusting, alcohol. Most of
the ‘drinks’ he had had were awful but at least he could feel it

Draco signaled the bar-kept for
another mug.

Ten minutes. Ten minutes until she
became a he again in full view of the slothful trash in the bar. Would ‘she’ finish
in time? The hip flask of potion pressed into Draco’s stomach.

How long should he wait this time
before taking the next drink? Draco looked at the watch and sipped some bog
water.

Four Minutes.