Chapter 1: The Muggle Mystery

Draco Malfoy was not a stupid boy. He was actually quite intelligent, despite all appearances. Intelligent enough to know that disobeying his father would lose him his family and everything he had ever known. Intelligent enough to know that obeying his father and joining the Dark Lord would lose him his dignity and more importantly - maybe not to Draco - his life.

Draco Malfoy was not a caring boy. He never felt compassion for his schoolmates, obviously, and never bothered with petty relationships. Not to say he didn't want friendship. But the only three people he ever cared about were his mother, father and his potions professor.

So you see that Draco had a difficult decision ahead of him.

However, recently he had been rethinking his "destined" position in life.

You see, one thing Draco most definitely could be called was a curious boy. He had an inherent questioning personality, constantly inquiring about anything people told him. Naturally, this meant he had a not so subtle interest in muggles. He had never divulged or indulged this interest, as his father would certainly have him drawn and quartered (a practice only done by ancient muggles). But his father wasn't here right now. No, the man who ruled Draco's life with an iron fist was in Azkaban, never to return, and he could dictate no longer.

Draco took to the task wholeheartedly and immersed himself in the culture of muggles. After all, as his mother always said, the moment you truly know your enemy is the moment you learn to make or break the person.

The first thing he did was floo to the Leaky Cauldron in London, but instead of entering Diagon Alley, he left through the front entrance and lost himself in muggle London. He wanted to find this "tube" he heard Justin Finch-Fletchley talking about. It sounded like an interesting and fun contraption.

Of course, once he boarded the metal muggle machine (after asking about to figure out where it was in the first place - embarrassingly, right behind him - and struggling to pay the muggle currency required) he realized that his previous assumption couldn't be further from the truth. As soon as the doors shut, Draco was overcome with claustrophobia and he almost fell once it started moving. He could almost relate this method of travel to a portkey, but soon it became apparent that this was much more pleasant and he didn't feel the need to projectile vomit anymore. If it had actually been a portkey, he would have lost his lunch, as he had the previous three times he traveled that way. It surely embarrassed his father to witness such weakness from his son.

This ride on the London underground would definitely be infinitely more humiliating to Lucius Malfoy. And disturbing.

Draco had to admit, though, that he would take this over portkeys or apparition any day. If it were faster.

Soon, the young Malfoy grew impatient and left the tube, determined to make his own way back to the pub that lead to London's hub of wizarding shopping. He sneered at anything and anyone that impeded his path.

Something caught his eye on his way, though. An interesting place to investigate the muggle world would, after all, be a bookstore.

Pageturner was a quaint little shop, a little worn down in a good, homely way. It was nothing like the cold, drafty, lonely manor, and Draco loved that. Draco immediately decided that he made the right decision in coming here.

The person manning the register nodded at him and he resisted the urge to sneer at the muggle who dared to treat him like a commoner, remembering what his mother said at the beginning of summer.

"Be civil in public, Dragon. Don't make a scene. That's one thing your father got wrong, because he didn't realize that you shouldn't make enemies before allies."

For some reason, this struck a chord in him. That's exactly what he'd done. By insulting Weasley when they met, he had alienated potential allies. It was his own fault, not Potter's, that he had no true friends. It was his own fault that he felt hollow when he saw the Golden Trio smiling, laughing, or hugging.

So he just nodded at the woman and began to browse the stacks. He stopped once he reached the young adults label, as he was a young adult, and he picked up a random book with an interesting cover.

How interesting it was that they had paper covers that made the books light and floppy. Not to mention they were tiny. He opened to the first page of the story and began to read when someone behind him scared the wits out of him when he addressed Draco.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Draco whirled around, managing to look graceful even when he almost jumped and saw a young, tawny haired man a little older than him writing at a table with a small and weird quill with no ink. Seriously, did they store the ink in the pen? Draco tried not to be too impressed.

"What?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

The other man gestured to the young adults section with a grimace. "I wouldn't read any of those."

"Why?" Draco inquired, raising an eyebrow in a Malfoyish fashion.

"You're obviously new to bookstores or frustratingly shallow," Draco bristled at the accusation, but the other ignored his reaction and continued. "You see, all of those, or at least most, are terrible."

The other brow went up. "And you would know."

The woman at the front chose that time to insert herself into the conversation. "You should listen to him. He's a genius and he's read every book in this store, even the rubbish ones.

A genius? He was a muggle; he couldn't be that smart.

"Oh, I wouldn't say I'm a genius. I just have a really high IQ."

"180?" she more said than stated, crossing her arms.

Draco frowned. That couldn't be right. He thought something like 350 people in the world had IQs that high. And weren't they all wizards? That's what his father said.

"You have that high an IQ..?" he asked dubiously.

"Not many people believe me, and you do not have to. I was just advising you not to waste time on such jargon," said the man, turning back to his sheets of paper.

"Well..." Draco hadn't expected him to give up the matter so quickly. With lack of anything better to say, he just blurted a rather awkward thank you and put the book back in its place before heading to a different section. Science fiction and fantasy looked interesting.

He once again snatched a random book, Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury. He went to sit in a leather seat, one of six, three on each side of a table - the one the "genius" was working at. He leafed through the pages but soon found himself lost. What was "kerosene"? And he had no idea what a "centrifuge" was.

He was tempted to ask the man, who was scribbling fervently on his papers (What was he working on that was so important? Surely it couldn't be that great - he was a muggle after all... but why wouldn't muggles do important things?), but he felt he would just make a fool of himself.

Frustrated, Draco tapped the word he was stuck on now, "TV", wondering what to do.

Fortunately, the lady at the desk noticed his struggle and waved to get his attention. "Hey, you can find a dictionary under the coffee table."

Draco, surely enough, found one and set it down, flipping through the thick volume until he found what he was looking for.

The man across from him suddenly sighed, stretching his back and running his hands through his hair.

"Having trouble?" asked the woman at the desk. Draco really should come up with better names for them.

"Nope," he said. "I am just tired because I have been sitting in this uncomfortable position for so long. If this weren't so important to me━"

She interrupted, "I know, I know. You would take the time to actually do healthy things like eating and exercising. Yes, I believe you."

"What..." Draco started. He didn't know why he was so shy right now. "What are you working on?"

The other man smirked. "Finish your book and maybe I'll tell you."

Draco narrowed his eyes. How dare this filthy - wait. He needed to calm down. He wasn't here to fight. This was a personal mission and if the other wanted to be a wanker, then so be it. Draco just needed to learn why these muggles were so disgusting. Most didn't look dirty or barbaric, as he was told his entire life.

He lowered his eyes to the book and finished reading. It was dark by the time he finished and he only had a little time before he had to leave. Aunt Bella wanted to help with his occlumency in about an hour.

He had to ask quickly then. "Well? What are you working on?"

The other man looked up and shrugged. "Come back next week. Maybe I'll tell you."

What? Of all the - this bastard? He dare -

Once again, Draco reigned in his temper, masking his emotions as he was taught to.

He stood up, placing the book he finished on the table, glaring, and coldly saying, "Very well." Then he stalked out of the door, scowling all the way.

"That was mean," said the woman behind the desk.

The man at the table leaned back and smiled. "But he'll come back."