Draco Malfoy stared up at the flashing neon sign with distaste. It hung over the door of a small two storey building which was garnished in a layer of filth. The white paint was peeling - what remained was stained a dirty yellow, the wooden door was hanging off its hinges and the walk way in front was littered with glass bottles and used needles.
Draco put his hands in the pockets of his black pants and kicked an empty beer can absently, "Father, this - it's full of Muggles," he said, a look of disgust blighting his striking features. When his Father had proposed a trip to 'Shelia's' to celebrate his 21st Birthday, Draco had assumed it would be a fashionable and exclusive establishment of the highest degree – perhaps specializing in luxurious delicacies from the finest Wizard chefs with some beautiful Witch waitresses to admire too – if he was fortunate.
His eyes skimmed over the building once more – it had a solitary window located next to the door, which was so diminutive, he doubted he'd be able to fit his hand through it. It gave no indication to the inside as it was covered in several sheets of out dated news papers – obscuring the inside from prying eyes. Draco scowled, what sort of place was this – it was definitely exclusive, that was for sure.
His eyes widened as he watched a Muggle man stumble over the threshold of the door. In one hand, he clung tightly to a half empty bottle of vodka, in the other was a little see through packet containing a powdery white substance, which the man quickly tucked into the pocket of his pants.
He staggered off down the road muttering loudly – or maybe he was singing, either way, his steps faltered, he lurched forward suddenly and a brown liquid surged out of his mouth, leaving a pile of sick on the curb of the pavement. The man swayed and wobbled unsteadily for a moment before attempting to totter away.
Draco turned away in revulsion and stared at his Father in disbelief, "Father – please, tell me we have come to the wrong place."
Lucius stared at his Son with a mixture of amusement and contempt, "do you really assume I'd be dim enough to bring us to the wrong place, Draco?"
Draco shook his head wearily, "of course not, Father – I just assumed that…" he dithered, uncertain of the appropriate words to use. Lucius remained impassive, looking rather bored as he watched his Son's struggle, with disdain.
"I mean, just look at it, Father," Draco nodded his head towards 'Shelia's', "it's full of Muggles and quite honestly, Father, it's an absolute dump, look at the state of it!"
Lucius fingered the silver snake head on top of his cane delicately; its crystal green eyes resembled that of its owner, frosty and remote. Lucius' own grey eyes bore into his Sons with a cold and unfriendly derision. "Its status as a Muggle establishment is irrelevant," he said irritably, "and as for the state of the building – I assure you it wasn't a contributing factor in my decision to bring you here, Draco"
"Surely," Draco argued, "It's Muggle status is highly relevant."
Lucius raised his eye brow, "Yes – and why is that?"
"I would have thought that was obvious," he said sarcastically.
Lucius lifted his head slightly - he drew a black ribbon from inside his pocket, which was made of the same sumptuous silk as his black robes. He lifted his hands and tied his sleek blond hair back with the ribbon. "Now now Draco," he said smoothly, "Muggles may be filthy abominations – that cannot be denied – but as long as we don't pollute our bloodline through procreation," he waved his hand dismissively, "there is no harm in appreciating the beauty of Muggle women."
Draco pulled a face, and stared at his Father, utterly perplexed, "but Father, you always taught me that – no matter what – we weren't to touch Muggles."
Lucius met his Son's gaze evenly, "I taught you not to breed with Muggles," he corrected.
"But…" Draco closed his mouth when his Father held up a hand to silence him, "No buts, Draco. This conversation is finished," he said irritably, "Now – we are going to head inside and enjoy the rest of your Birthday."