Disclaimer: I don't own anything. At all.
Draco would never tell anyone how sick Portkeys made him. But they did. Now he was swirling through the magical warp created by the Portkey with his father and the rest of the Death Eaters. Draco, of course, had no idea where they were going. He assumed that Voldemort had received another tip-off as to a possible location of Harry Potter, and they were simply going on another wild-goose chase. Seeing as how he wasn't even an official Death Eater yet, Draco wasn't quite sure why he was taken on these expeditions, but his father had indicated that this one would require travel to a very remote location not traceable on standard magical maps. Of course, this probably just meant that Voldemort was getting desperate and following ridiculous leads to find Potter. It didn't reassure Draco that none of the Death Eaters seemed to know where they were going, and even Voldemort had snapped at Lucius when he pressed for details. (It just wasn't Slytherin to snap at anyone. Slytherins were supposed to let their voices drip with venom, not snap like a frightened Hufflepuff.)
Suddenly, he felt the ground smack his hip violently, and saw his father's glare as he silently raised his wand to repair his son's broken hip bone. Draco knew his father's face all too well; it was the face of someone who had grown accustomed to his son's highly disappointing weaknesses, which had grown only more apparent since the Death Eaters had started using Portkeys as their primary mode of transportation. If only Lucius could see him at school, Draco thought hopelessly, he would know that Draco's strengths lay in a potent combination of intimidation and seduction. And of course, he was wicked at Potions, but Lucius already knew that through his heavy correspondence with Severus.
As Draco put his weight on his leg to stand up, a stabbing pain in his hip caused him to collapse back onto the ground. Apparently, his father's healing spell had failed. Far from being angry at this point, Draco was simply confused. And in a hell of a lot of pain. He struggled to refrain from crying or simply cussing out his father. The other Death Eaters glared down at him incredulously, although Voldemort barely gave him a passing glance. Lucius, however, was noticeably disturbed at the thought that his ability to use magic had somehow been diminished.
However, their thoughts were interrupted by some of the most off-key, horrifically optimistic singing Draco thought he had ever heard. As he looked towards the direction it was coming from, he saw a young woman with a very…oddly shaped head. In fact, as she approached, he realized that her head was downright phallic. Other than that, she reminded him of Luna Lovegood. She was wearing a purple dress and was singing about…milk? Bread? Cookies? It only took a few more seconds for Draco to realize that this woman was singing her grocery list to herself. How very odd. She didn't even seem like a Muggle, although she certainly seemed as stupid as one. Finally, she reached the group of robed men and stopped.
"Hey. I was just on my way to Bub's Concession Stand to pick up some food for my Garden Party this afternoon. I don't think I've seen any of you around. My name's Marzipan."
Voldemort stared at her with gleaming eyes, trying extra-hard to look sinister and evil.
Draco squinted at her through his pain, and felt his head begin to throb with confusion. Then he looked up at his father.
Lucius' eyes were filled with hatred. Nothing new there.
Then, Marzipan produced a ukelele and began to strum it gently, while singing in her nausea-inducing voice. "Welcome, newcomers to our land of grassy fields. Won't you join me later for a meal? We'll have tofu and vegetables too. It just won't be complete without you!"
Lucius lunged, his aristocratic robes billowing, and used his right hand to slap Marzipan across the face. Draco winced. The ukelele fell to the grass with a soft thud and the singing stopped. Marzipan lay sprawled, unconscious. Her purple dress had gathered around her thighs, exposing her pasty white legs.
"It might befit you in the future to control your anger, Lucius," Voldemort hissed. "While I am all for killing anything that gets in our way of Potter, you may have noticed that magic does not appear to function in this place, and beating up girls is a most reliable way to ensure that we are not welcomed."
"I apologize, my Lord. My temper…"
"Yes, yes, your insufferable temper. Perhaps I shall condemn you to another anger-management lesson with Severus. Always humiliating to have your subordinate teaching you, isn't it, Lucius?"
"Yes, my Lord."
Draco could never figure out why his father was a higher-ranking Death Eater than Professor Snape, who worked harder than anyone else for the cause. Furthermore, having Snape, the king of temper tantrums, teach Lucius anger-management was completely beyond Draco's comprehension. However, these musings were interrupted by another confusing sight pushing its way through his pain-muddled mind. Even Voldemort stood at attention.
For on the grassy plain behind Marzipan, another figure was approaching. He appeared to be made out of marshmallows, and he was prancing with determination towards them. Despite the fact that he had no arms and was wearing a propeller-cap, he actually looked quite menacing. As he reached them, he shouted "Marzipan! Oh, Marzipan!" kneeling down next to her and promptly bursting into tears. Quickly however, he stood up and looked at the cluster of robed men with a completely blank look on his face. "Oh, hello."
Voldemort stared at him condescendingly. Lucius simply looked bored. Draco lay on the ground, wondering how he would be able to saunter through the halls of Malfoy Manor with his friends (Lucius always let them stay over) if his hip healed improperly.
"Oh, hello. I'm Homestar. Runner. Homestar Runner."
Another rather pregnant pause followed, and then Homestar continued.
"Wait a second," he frowned, "Did you beat up Marzipan? She's my girlfriend. She makes good sandwiches."
Lucius snorted at the idea that this puffy, stupid being could have a girlfriend. Voldemort firmly clamped his bony hand on Lucius' shoulder, but it was too late. Homestar looked furious.
"This one's for you, Marzipan!" he shouted with purpose, and proceeded to launch his foot at Lucius' face. Lucius blocked the kick and grabbed Homestar's foot, attempting to flip him over, but Homestar was faster. He quickly snapped his head forward and crashed it against Lucius' head. As Lucius fell, still gripping Homestar's ankle, Homestar allowed his foot to fall forward onto Lucius' chest. He ended up standing with one foot firmly anchored on the unconscious Death Eater as if he were claiming a piece of land. Smugly, he looked around at the other robed men.
The Death Eaters were accustomed to fighting with magic, and, sadly enough, Voldemort had completely failed to enforce the weight training and exercise program he had initiated at the beginning of the year. Therefore, nobody dared to challenge this new, fluffety, puffety menace.
Homestar Runner lovingly levitated the waking Marzipan (boggling the mind of Draco, who had thought that magic did not work in this place, after all he was experiencing stabbing pain from his entire leg now) and pranced away in the direction he had originally come from.
"Draco, take your father to Severus. We will need him in full health for the battle ahead of us," Voldemort commanded.
After some struggling, Draco managed to stand up on one foot and hopped around awkwardly until he reached his father. At that moment, he lost his balance and fell flat on his face.
The other Death Eaters laughed. "Hurry up, Draco. We have to plan our ruthless attack, and we wouldn't want you to faint, now would we?" said one of them.
Draco quickly pulled himself up onto one knee, and tugged at his father's shoulders, managing to drag him a couple feet before collapsing again. Ignoring Voldemort's bored laughter, and the hearty guffaws of his imbecilic followers, Draco persisted in moving his father while dragging his injured leg behind him until he was far enough away from the Death Eaters that they ignored him. It was, he reflected, a very unrefined pose for both Malfoys. It was also extremely painful, and Draco clung to the hope that Professor Snape would be able to fix his hip without magic.
Finally, they reached a small square brick building. It was labeled "Bubs' Concession Stand." Despite the fact that Draco felt that Bubs was probably the stupidest name he had ever heard, he approached the building in the hope that Bubs, whoever he might be, could make his father wake up so that he wouldn't have to drag him anymore.
Draco stood up on one foot and grabbed the counter for support. Suddenly, he was face to face with a plump orange man with a bright blue head.
"What do we have here? Are you two hurt?" asked Bubs.
"No, we were just doing a touching interpretive dance representing the struggles of humanity against the forces that divide us," snapped Draco in reply.
Bubs frowned at him, but said "You must be newcomers, so I'll help you. I can fix anything that needs fixing."
"My father's unconscious. Do you know how to make him wake up?"
"I have just the thing!" exclaimed Bubs confidently. He rummaged through some boxes in the back of his store for a few minutes and returned with a toilet brush. After exiting his stand through the side door, he stood over Lucius and stabbed at his face wildly with the toilet brush. Draco panicked and hopped madly over to Bubs and pushed him away. "Do you know what the hell you're doing? Get that foul brush away from my father! You're scratching him! Look at his face, it's starting to bleed!"
"Hold on a second. I was trying to wake him up. That's what you asked me to do, and I was doing it."
"He's not awake and his face is scratched! You're incredibly stupid! And you're fat!" Draco screamed savagely.
Without another word, Bubs shuffled back into his Concession Stand and threw hot dogs at Draco and Lucius until they left, Draco dragging his father as before.
Eventually, Draco saw a scoreboard in the distance. Elated, he thought that if there was a Quidditch field here, then the strange people they kept meeting might actually be somewhat normal. As they got closer, however, he realized with dismay that it was some sort of Muggle sports field. There were large prongs sticking out of the ground. He had seen them before at some of the Muggle stadiums where the Death Eaters had searched out innocent victims. There was a low building next to the field. Draco hoped it was a locker room so that he could sit and rest for a while. He was pleased to discover that it was, so he laid out his father on a bench and sat down on the floor, trying very hard to ignore the excruciating pain radiating from his hip. He began to worry about Quidditch. How could he be a Seeker if he healed improperly? Would he walk with a limp for the rest of his life? He couldn't limp, people would sense weakness! His thoughts were interrupted by voices coming from the door.
"And this here is my locker room. It's not much, but you should see it after a game, when all my boys are in here changing…" Draco heard someone say, and was slightly repulsed.
"Yes, I am sure it's quite something," replied Snape, who sounded bored and uninterested. Draco was immensely relieved to hear Snape's voice.
As they rounded a corner, they stopped talking and looked down at the man lying unconscious on a bench and his son sitting awkwardly on the floor beside him.