The Malfoy Project

𝟖𝟒 - 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐞

✼¹

༻⚜༺

     The streets were wet and steamy, the result of the damp March showers. The puddles reflected the bright technicolour of shop signs, traffic lights, and... cars. Countless metal contraptions, honking and veering and blinking in all directions. The noise was infernal, and despite the sun having gone down an hour ago, the streets were still swarming with people.

     I felt like a fish out of water as we dodged and swerved around pedestrians, taking quick strides so as to not attract disgruntled glares or get shoved out of the way. "A little further," Ainsley said over her shoulder, tugging me forward.

     "When you said you knew a place I didn't think you meant in Muggle London," I grumbled,  dragging my feet as she steered me through the crowds. Even from behind, I could feel her roll her eyes. 

     We turned a corner into a quieter street. This one was drabber and much less decorated than the main roads. There were one or two shops selling convenience items, a Chinese restaurant, and a run-down bookstore named The Bookworm, which I considered to be terribly unoriginal. Right smack between the restaurant and The Bookworm was a little staircase that led down to an abyss.

     We trundled down the steps and came to a teal-coloured door. Ainsley rapped it with her knuckles in a very specific rhythm. I was about to ask her where we were when the door squeaked open and a man peered out from the small crack. He was two heads taller than me, bald, moustachioed, and built like a cabinet.

     "Jabberwocky," Ainsley said. The man waggled his moustache then pointed a sausagey finger at me. "Him too," Ainsley added sweetly. "Please."

     The man's flared his nostrils and swept me head to toe with a blistering gaze. Then he gave an approving nod and stepped aside to let us through.

     We walked down a long corridor that was so dark I could barely see my nose. It seemed to go on for forever, until a second door, glowing purple around the edges, floated into view up ahead. Beyond it the faint sounds of a lively chatter could be heard. Ainsley turned the handle, letting out a rush of sound.  

     The place was a club of sorts, but starkly different from the ones Father had brought me to. Those were often dimly lit, and filled with wizards wielding jewel-encrusted wands in jewel-encrusted fingers, balancing filthy cigars between their teeth as they discussed politics and women and how much they were each going to bet next at the next game of Wizards' Poker.

     This one was was drenched from floor to ceiling in neon lights of purple and magenta that flashed green to yellow to blue in regular intervals. The walls were painted with a dizzying pattern of hearts, spades, clubs, and diamonds, red and black. 

     There was a billiards table at the far corner, its corners trimmed with gold. Next to it was a long bar counter, also finished in the same metallic design. The tables, which were arranged in the back half of the room, were crowded with people. The other half was an empty floor, its size just a tiny fraction of the Manor ballroom.  

     A band, consisting of mostly brass instruments, had set themselves up on the cramped stage at the front, and were playing something that wasn't really a song, but a monotonous filler beat that sounded as if they were waiting for each other to start. There was a microphone on a stand at the edge of the stage, but no singer.

     I looked around in amazement. Everyone was smiling and laughing at any given moment, as if their friends were perpetually telling jokes. The atmosphere buzzed with a foreign electricity that stood the hairs on my arms.