Disclaimer: I don't own anything about Harry Potter, and since I'm not a multi-billionaire I'm pretty sure I don't own McDonald's. So what do I own? 2 pet mice (or do they own me?), my game boy DS, several funny mannerisms and my room.

With only days left in the holidays, Draco was feeling a little sad and wished that he didn't have to go back to Hogwarts. He wasn't selected as head boy, and he was fully convinced he needed no further training. He was prepared to drop out, but Voldemort had ordered him to remain. Apparently, only a fully trained wizard would be worthy to serve him.

Wandering around the huge rooms, he wondered what he could use them for. After installing a home theatre system, a bowling ally and a personal, automatic McDonalds, nothing else seemed that good. Perhaps an ice-skating rink? No, he hated falling on the ice. Maybe he could do a hostile take over of one of the wizarding worlds companies? Nah, too much effort. Frustrated, he headed towards his room.

"By the wand, what the hell happened in here?" he asked nobody in particular.

A blur of orange and white whizzed before his eyes. Birds were singing in the tree tops. The tree tops? Ever since when did his room have trees? The room had been turned into what could only be described as a miniature version of a forest. The room had been big before, but now it appeared to stretch as far as the eye could see. Vines grew on what remained of the walls, and for a minute Draco seriously was wondering about his sanity. Then familiar objects came into view. His king-sized bed was in front of him, but, to his horror, it appeared to be made of four tree trunks and a web of woven leaves. To his right, his wardrobe was now reduced from its original magnificence to a pile of clothes under an overhang of dirt. Dirt? There were powerful spells to repel all forms of dirt or grime. The best household witches had placed them there and continually renewed their repelling power. He could remember a time when he tried to trick the spells by putting a dirty Quidditch robe on his marble floor. Quick as a flash, the spells bounced the robe into the air and maliciously burnt his favourite robe into a fine dust that was levitated out the window. How on earth had his once-pristine room turned to a lush mass of foliage, complete with real dirt, with spells as powerful as that in place? The answer came like a flash, like a vision, like an out of control broom crashing into the ground. It was that bloody door.

"Dory! What in the world is going on here?" shouted Draco.

The forest creatures scattered at the shout.

"I'm giving you till the count of three to come over here and tell me what the hell is happening. One …..(Nothing happen)…..Two…(a slight creaking sound began)…..two and a half!...(the creaking sound was getting louder)…..that's it, Dory! THREE!"

A stream of bright orange light poured from Draco's wand, weaving its way through the numerous trees, searching for the sentient door that had recently taken up residence in Draco's room. It shot like a rocked through the trees until it came to one of the walls overgrown with vines. Diving against it, they ripped the vines to shreds as it continued deeper into the wall. Turning a radiant crimson red, it returned to Draco, and lead him to the now bare spot. Amongst the debris, there was a fine wooden door that was looking about as innocent as a door could.

"Hello, Draco. Um, surprise?" said the door in a sickly sweet voice.

Composing himself before speaking to this obviously strongly enchanted door, Draco took a deep breath. "What in God's name have you done to my room? And how the heck did you mange to break the cleanliness spells? I've tried before and they wouldn't budge, so how could a stupid bloody do…um, what I mean is how you do it?" It was clear that anything powerful enough to break such strong spells and perform higher class magic, like growing a complete forest for instance, had to be treated carefully, even if it was a deranged door.

"Well, I thought the place was a bit lonely, so I grew a place for my friends to live." The door extended an opaque tendril and pointed towards some trees, "and teleported them here. The spells were easy, I broke them almost instantly. Why? Don't you like it? I could always change it back."

Seeing an opportunity, Draco took it.

"No, it's alright. I mean, if you went to so much trouble, I suppose we could always leave the forest here .That way you could always see your friends. In fact, I'll move a few doors down to give you space. You can come visit me, but other than that, you will be quite happy right here."

"But, Draco-!"

"No, I think that would be great for you. I'll go move my things. See you later, Dory" said Draco as he went off to collect his personal items. He was grinning all the way out. Finally, I'm rid of that bloody door, he thought happily.

On his way out, dory yelled, "I'll come and visit as soon as possible, Draco."

"Er…great!" he replied. Oh crap, I'll never be free of this lump of enchanted wood, he thought. Only a day to go before heading off for school. Might as well make the most of the last night of freedom. Maybe I'll go to that nightclub in Knockturn Alley. I've heard it goes wild after midnight, and it would give me time away from this crazy bit of hardwood.

Conjuring a tight, black, heavy-metal shirt and faded jeans, he then spiked up his hair with 'Little Jimmy's Best-Hold Hair Jell'. The blue writing on the top matched his piercing blue eyes and, with his platinum blonde hair, Draco looked a million bucks.

While walking out the door, he yelled, "I'm going out tonight Dory. Don't wait up."

Preferring not to get his party clothes sooty, Draco held up a small device that appeared to be a small emerald ring. Holding the ring close to his face, he twisted the central jewel and said, "Knockturn Alley". A rush of green air whizzed past him and then dank, rubbish-strewn streets surrounded him.

"At least the old man gave me something useful, before he got himself killed". Happy that his father's obsession with illegal, but highly useful tools, had finally proved useful, Draco strolled down the familiar streets. His father had taken him here many times, mainly for business, but also so he could face the scum of the wizarding world with no fear. Fear of people you could profit from was stupid. Fear of people who were dangerous because of their reputation was stupid. A long time ago, Draco had learnt that being able to survive in these streets was a skill worth learning. So, like a good death-eater-in-training, he had come here until his irrational fear of the unknown was conquered. Oh yes, there were real dangers in this dark place, but Draco knew that technically, he was considered one of those dangers, so he wasn't phased.

Walking in the shadows, he pasted some ugly hags, who were carrying an unconscious young man in their gnarled hands. He caught some words as they went past. "Lucky find…. red hair…. hard to catch…. cursed kiss…sleeping drug."

It must be harvest night. Hags only act so publicly on days like that. Wonder what's going to happen to the poor fellow. Perhaps he'll get lucky and only have to sleep with one of them. He thought morbidly.

Draco had heard of such occurrences but never witnessed one. One night every so often, hags, the mistresses of illusions and transformation, would cast illusions of beauty on themselves and go for a night on the town. They would flirt with young men who look fit to breed with and lure them into an infatuation spell. Once dazed by the spell, the hags are quick to transport their victim to a secluded location. Several hags would use the male for their own purposes, and then discarded them like a broken toy. Most men who befall this fate are never seen again, but some wander back to civilisation, driven mad by their ordeal. It usually was a grizzly end. Sighing, Draco felt that annoying, small ping of guilt that came with seeing an injustice he could right. It was always there. When ever he did a murder or tortured people, he often had to drink a lot of fire whiskey to escape from the growing yell of his conscience. Recently it had been quiet, but just now it was going off like an alarm in his head.

Save the kid! He needs help!

"Grr…. fine." he mumbled. "Excuse me?" The hags stopped, and looked back at Draco. Partly hidden by the shadows, they quickly cast the illusion once more and cloaked their human cargo.

"Hello, handsome…wanna go get a drink?"

"Ladies…would you mind putting him down and disappearing down the hole you came from? I don't have time for this tonight, but I think I'll make an exception for you." Drawing his wand, Draco aimed directly at the small gang of exotically beautiful women. "My master tells me my Cruciatus Curse is improving. Would you like to see?" When it dawned on the ladies who Draco's master must be, the look of terror was almost comical. In shock, their illusions faulted to reveal several ancient crones. With this revelation, they spat on the ground in disgust and disappeared into the night.

Walking over to the man, Draco realised there was something familiar about him. Turning him over, Draco let out a gasp. The hag's prize was none other than a very battered Ronald Weasley.

"Hey, weasel, wake up!" said Draco as he tried to cast a revival spell. He couldn't believe it. The soon-to-be Head Boy of Hogwarts was lying unconscious in Knockturn Alley. He had just saved his enemy from being ravaged by horny old hags. This was so not his night. Taking a closer look at Ron's face, Draco noticed something. His lips were midnight black, and his face was so pale that the freckles stood out like lamp posts. Flicking Ron's eyes open with his thumb, Draco was met with an unnerving sight. A swirl of black and gold had replaced his iris, marking him as a recent victim of a subduing curse. This was bad. Really bad. The weasel needed urgent medical attention, and in Knockturn Alley, that would be hard to find. The only doctors around here specialised in voodoo and creating curses like the one Ron had been hit with.

"This is just what I need to ruin my night; an injured muggle-lover hit with a heavy-duty curse," remarked Draco to the unmoving body. Reaching down to pick him up, Draco felt a painful shock run into his fingertips. Nursing the injured hand, Draco muttered, "Stupid curse, an untouchable as well as a subduing. He must have really fought the bitches. Wonder what a goody-two-shoes like him is doing in a hellhole like this? Oh well, there are other ways to get you to help." With a flick of his wand, Draco levitated Ron into the air. Using his personal teleportation device, Draco twisted the jewel for a second time that night.

"St Mungo's hospital," he whispered, taking care to aim the jet of green air at the body beside him.

In a flash Ron, was gone. "I wonder how he's going to be head boy with injuries like that? He'll need weeks to recover. Damn it, now I've gone and ruined my night! I suppose I could go and get a drink…" Feeling the need for some strong fire whiskey, Draco ambled off to his original target, the nightclub.

I know they haven't even met up yet, but school starts tomorrow, so I figured they deserve a little fun. I promise that soon Draco and Hermione will meet. Besides, who doesn't want to find out what Draco would do at a magical nightclub? A new review a day keeps me a happy chicken and 2 new reviews makes my day a little more tolerable and if three new reviews come in soon, I will die happy…you know, from the shock of having reviews. Thanks to all the people who do review regularly and support me. Please review!