"Put them back! Father! How could you? Fix it! My boots!" Draco was shrieking, uncontrollable, "Those were my favourite boots! They were the last pair; they don't even MAKE them anymore!" Draco, now devoid of piercings, which had been rather cruelly ripped directly out and the skin immediately healed without scarring, his hair devoid of products, his eyes and lips devoid of makeup, and his amazing outfit transfigured into the most boring black robe he had ever worn. It wasn't even fashionable to wizarding standards! But Lucius was having none of it. He stormed up to Draco's rooms, Draco shrieking hysterically after him, begging and pleading, but Lucius went through everything, finding all of the clothing and records that Draco hadn't brought with him to school, and sweeping them all into a pile, he hovered them before him out of the room.

"I will destroy these later. For now, I will return you to school, and see what you have there so that you cannot do something so…so uncouth again. You have no idea how much embarrassment you have brought to the Malfoy name today!"

Draco was force marched though the halls of Hogwarts and down to the dungeons. His friends were in the common room, watching silently as Lucius dragged Draco into his bedroom and found…nothing. Everything was as it should be, no goth and punk muggle clothing, save for a few of the calmer outfits that he didn't even really like, no posters, no jewellery and accessories. There were a handful of muggle records, some of the least shocking muggle novels. Just enough to convince Lucius that Draco's friends HADN'T rushed back and hidden all of his things. Draco had never been so relieved or grateful in his life. But Lucius did not look fooled. He glowered and cast a spell, then another. A forgotten fishnet stocking zoomed out from under Draco's bed, and his nightstand slid open to spit out a forgotten muggle romance novel about sexy bisexual vampires, but nothing else.

"This is all of it?" His father glared. But Draco had had time to pull himself together now that the worst of the fear was gone.

"I was only trying out something new." He drawled. Then inspiration struck. "I'm having a phase."

"Malfoys do not have phases. That is the last I will hear of this. It stops now."

"Yes, Father. Of course." Draco lied, and walked his Father back to the entrance. When he returned, Pansy and Blaise were waiting for him at the entrance to the common room.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" He cried, throwing his arms around them both. "I don't know how you did it but thank you. Where did you hide it? I thought my father was going to go through the whole Slytherin house!"

"Uh…" Blaise looked uncomfortable.

"It was Potter and Granger," Pansy said, "We were just completely in shock and then Granger suggested that perhaps when you were returned your father may have a look round, and then I panicked and said there was no way we could hide it all in time, and then Potter said they would help, though Weasley refused point blank, he was too busy laughing, so the four of us ran back here and stuffed everything into Blaise's trunk and then Potter and Granger took it away somewhere."

"They WHAT?!"

"Don't worry. I think they plan to give it back," Said Blaise, helpfully.

"Gryffindors ARE supposed to be all noble and trustworthy." Pansy added.

Relieved of his immediate fears, Draco slumped into his favourite chair by the fire. No one else in Slytherin dared even sit in it.

"He banished my favourite boots!" Pansy sat beside him and began to pat his hair consolingly. Blaise muttered something about finding Potter and Granger and left.

"There, there darling, we'll find you another pair."

"They were limited edition!"

A short while later the common room entrance opened and Granger walked in, followed by Blaise and Harry Potter lugging a trunk between them. Draco leaped up and ignoring all of them, threw it open. It was all in a jumble, but it was there. His records, his books, his amazingly fashionable footwear, his fishnets, his jean jackets with the patches, his extensive miniskirt collection, his very tight, stylishly shredded trousers, his accessories. His makeup! He stepped back and then, in a move so astounding that it outranked even the appearance of Harry Potter and an actual Muggleborn in the Sytherin common room for sheer unbelievability, Draco threw his arms around Hermine Granger. "Oh thank you!" he all but sobbed into her neck as she stood frozen. Potter began to back away, but it was too late. "Thank you SO MUCH!" He cried, grabbing him in an equally fierce hug, tears of relief dampening the neckline of his Gryffindor robe. Then, leaving the traumatized do-gooders behind, he whipped out his wand and hovered the trunk up to his room, happily dispersing his belongings to their proper locations, and planning the spells for privacy, diversion, and disguise he would need to research to prevent such a thing from every happening again.

The next day, Draco appeared with the sides of his head shaved, new piercings, including a row of rings up one ear, black lipstick, even more black makeup than before, a miniskirt of the exact shortest length allowed in the Hogwarts dress code, which was actually surprisingly short, and his very tallest goth boots yet, for the last meal of the day in the Great Hall. Awed silence reigned as he strode in, struck a casual pose as though only pausing a moment to see if a particular friend was there. A moment later, Harry Potter was at his side, stumbling slightly in his unusually tall, though not as tall as Draco's of course, footwear, his hair spiked stiffly in every direction, a rim of black around his eyes, very tight black shredded jeans, and a sleeveless vest covered in patches and spikes. He even sported an eyebrow piercing. Behind Harry, Hermione Granger, her hair teased to impossible heights and gathered in two, vibrantly hot pink pigtail puffs that contrasted beautifully with her dark brown skin, unnecessary sunglasses, pink lipstick, a nose ring, a very large, plaid jacket that hung off her shoulders, showing ripped blue jeans and a very small crop top. On Draco's other side, Blaise Zabini strutted, his hair lime styled in lime green cornrows, a large hoop earring in one ear, studded leather jacket over a mesh shirt, leather trousers, and combat boots. Behind him came Pansy, miniskirt, goth boots, and a leather coat that nearly brushed the floor. Flanking Draco in V formation, they strutted and swaggered in front of the gobsmacked student body and teachers of Hogwarts, before dividing to head to their own tables. Ron, already seated, was the first to speak. "Hey! What about me?! You didn't tell me you were doing this!"

"YOU didn't want to help, remember?" Hermione scolded.

"But! But I-!"

"Never mind, Ron," Harry said, soothingly, beginning to pile food on his plate, "We'll sort you out later. Have to keep up with the fashions, after all!"

At the head table Severus Snape fainted into his soup.

Back at Malfoy Manor, Lucius was going through Draco's confiscated items at a more leisurely pace now that he had calmed down. His son's outrageous fashion had been so horrifying, so unexpected. He simply had had no idea how to react! It was just like when his own father had caught him wearing floral colours that one time. The shade of delicate lavender had complimented his fair hair so beautifully, but he could see now why the lavender silk blouse had been inappropriate for the Malfoy image. And the delicate rose sprigged satin dress robes, yes, not quite the thing. But it had been well within Wizarding fashion, and not such hideously muggle trash. Sighing in longing at the thought of his long-gone lavender blouse, Lucius pulled out another of the muggle records. He really should see what this was all about. He turned to his phonograph.

"I walk a lonely road, the only one that I have ever known." It was…it was…"Don't know where it goes, but it's home to me and I walk alone. I walk this empty street On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams, Where the City Sleeps, and I'm the only one, and I walk alone." It was exactly how Lucius felt. Every line was perfect, every line described how he felt so exactly, so perfectly. How he had always felt, lonely and isolated, misunderstood. His dreams, broken. A Boulevard of them, broken unfulfilled. "My shadow's the only one that walks beside me, my shallow heart's the only thing that's beating. Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me. 'Til then I walk alone" His father had not understood him, Narcissa didn't understand him. The Dark Lord had never understood him. Had never cared. He listened to every song and then pulled out more records. Narcissa found him eventually, clutching a muggle novel with a lurid cover featuring a man with fangs biting a woman's neck as she threw back her head in ecstasy while another man embraced him from behind and looked on in approval, and listening to a band called, of all things "My Chemical Romance," and sobbing as he sang brokenly along "All the things you never ever told me, all the smiles that are ever going to haunt me.."

"Lucius! What in Morgana's name are you doing?"

"If I fall, If I fall.." he sang, his voice hitching. He looked up at her. "You wouldn't understand!" His long hair fell into his face and he flipped it back. "You don't understand me at all. Nobody does."

She left him to it, eventually, singing "When I was, a young boy, my father, took me into the city…" and mumbling something about "I really loved that blouse! Why did he take it away? And why shouldn't I? Why shouldn't I? I can do what I want! Nobody else understands!" whenever there was a space in the song. She really needed to keep an eye on his drinking.