His Hidden Side - Draco Malfoy

13- New Identities

London, the beautiful city full of ancient buildings, shiny red buses, tourists, statues and magic.
I've lived in London for my entire life, until Hogwarts. I thought I knew it all. I knew all the routes and streets, from my long walks and detours to school. I knew the names of all the postmen, the best places to get a good feed. But a whole new world was unknown to me back then, magic.

Malfoy leans against the wall of the Whitehall, in an alley wall away from prying eyes. "Now Roswell, since you've lived under a rock your entire life, I want to show you the-" he begins.

"The Whitehall. Yes, I know it." Of course I knew this building, it's architecture is stunning and unforgettable.

He scoffs, his lip curling up. "Yes, to the filthy muggles, but to us, The Ministry of Magic." He says doing jazz hands sarcastically. A giggle escapes from my lips. Why am I laughing?

I calm myself down. "Is this where we use the potion?"

"When we've got the perfect victims." He says slyly, watching my reaction with pleasure. "I won't hurt them, don't worry. We just need 2 ministry workers to come and-"

Malfoy looks towards the road connecting to the alley. I follow his gaze and see two ministry workers turn a corner and walk towards us. "Speak of the devil." He whispers and winks at me, his long lashes going up and down perfectly in slow motion.

"Fake sick." He says so quickly and runs up to the couple before I can ask what he meant. With a frantic voice he begins his web of lies. "Excuse me! My friend, she extremely sick. I don't know what's wrong with her. She's been vomiting and fainting. Can you take a look at her or call the ambulance. Please!" I almost believe him. The couple in fact take his words wholeheartedly and approach me.

A slightly chubby man wearing an assortment of woollen clothes, jumpers, scarfs comes up to me. I clutch my stomach and groan, playing the part. His wife - I presume - takes out her telephone to call the ambulance. With the both of them distracted, Malfoy whips out his wand and calls out "Petrificus Totalus!" To the concerned woman and man. I feel guilty as their hands and legs snap to the sides and they fall like dominos onto the ground. Eyes open wide in terror.

Despite my shock and fear, I follow Malfoy's lead and pluck out a strand of hair from the frozen zombie like woman. Malfoy does it without hesitation, as if plucking hair out of a frozen being is the most normal thing in the world.

He holds the hair on the tips of his fingers and drops it in his potion. "I've been told it tastes like goblin piss. Let's hope it doesn't." Without another second he took a big swing, practically smashing the neck of the potion bottle between his parted lips.

His face frightens me for my turn. His eyebrows furrow more than I thought possible. Wrinkles form all across his face as he grimaces. He drops the bottle and it chatters with the glass breaking up into millions of little pieces. He slaps his hand over his mouth in anticipation of vomiting.

I look away from him and face the wall. My reaction will probably be worse. I bring the bottle to my lips and already feel like vomiting from it's smell. I take a large gulp.

Goblin piss is an understatement. It's like a messy concoction of everything I hate. My insides and taste buds feel so attacked. My brain feels like it was shutting itself down. I feel the the potion run thickly down my throat and then back up as my body attempts to get the awful taste liquid out of me. I fight my every urge to cough it out, copying Malfoy and covering my own mouth.

"Don't you dare get sick on me Roswell!" Malfoy steps back and looks as disgusted as I feel.

***