There Be Crackfic Ahead
Title: Tokyo Outing
Rating: Mature
Disclaimer: Recognize it? Not mine.
Warnings: Um, bad fic? References to homosexual activity, drama!queen!Draco
Summary: Draco is shipped to Tokyo for his own protection.
Notes: If anyone is wondering, here's info on Harajuku, Nichome and Kabukicho. This was written for my own amusement; posting it here hoping that others might find it funny, too. This is completely different from the last fic I posted, and it's only the second one I've written, so if you feel like giving me feedback, that's fine. Suggestions for a place to publically post it are also welcome. I hope you like it!
This whole Death Eater business, Draco realized, wasn't quite what it seemed. He'd expectated excitement, power, glamorous swishy robes. Not being stuck in a horrid hovel with Severus Stick-Up-His-Arse Snape. Then, not only does he get Crucio-ed for not killing Dumbledore (and the Dark Lord completely overlooked his Sheer Brilliance in getting the Death Eaters into the castle), but his first meeting as a full-fledged Death Eater was a total let-down. Sure, there was the rumored orgy, but no slash to be found for love or money.
Draco was not having none of it. First chance he got, he escaped Snape and found Harry Potter (buggering Ron Weasley, which confirmed all his suspicions but did at least bode well for entertaining meetings). Yes, joining the Order of the Phoenix (and what a prissy, Gryffindor name!) was looking more and more promising.
~~~
"You're shipping me where?" Draco's voice, which had become increasingly shrill during the course of the preceeding conversation, now ended in a squeak reminiscent of a ferret getting its tail trampled. He cleared his throat and tried again. "You're sending me to Japan. You cannot be serious."
Hermione sighed. "For the third time, yes. You'll be safe there, and I can get some research done. You can start by reading these books." She dropped a sizeable stack on the table, which groaned in protest. "Oh, and here's your passport."
"My what?"
"Passport, Draco, surely you're heard of them."
"But aren't they for Muggles?" He practically spat out the word.
"Indeed. And since you'll be living in Tokyo as a Muggle, you'd better start getting used to the idea, and stop that obnoxious pouting. You have no idea the strings I had to pull to get you a passport, not to mention a visa."
Hermione flounced out, leaving Draco stuck in this horrid flat with nothing but cockroaches--and now a stack of depressingly dull books--to keep him company. He half-heartedly flipped through the top book, something ridiculous about a sword and a chrysanthemum, whatever that was, before giving it up as a bad job and hurling the book across the room. He'd never dreamed that betraying the Dark Lord would be so demeaning.
Before retreating to his room for a nap, Draco retrieved the book and carefully laid it back on the table. He had no wish for another verbal lashing from that book-worshipping Mudbl--Muggleborn.
~~~
"Hermione, you cannot be serious." Harry sounded bewildered, while Ron looked on in horror, apparently still too stricken to speak.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Look, you both know that we have to get him out of England, and Japan is the logical but not obvious choice. Voldemort's never had support there, and the Japanese Minister of Magic agreed to give Draco sanctuary. Do you have any idea how rare that is?"
"But why do you have to go with him?" Ron, red in the face and bellowing, had found his voice at last.
"First of all, someone needs to help him get settled, and I doubt either of you could manage that without killing him, which would rather defeat the purpose." Ron and Harry looked mildly abashed, unable to argue with the truth of that statement. "And as you well know, there's evidence that a Japanese tour group viewed Rowena Ravenclaw's wand soon before it disappeared from the magical wing of the British Museum. If I can talk to the people from that tour, it might give us the clue we need to find the next Horcrux."
"Fine," said Harry with a resigned air. "But if he does anything to hurt you, we will kill him."
"Painfully," Ron fervently added.
~~~
Draco had to work hard to cover his glee with his customary smirk. Airplanes were--there was no other word for it--cool! Once he'd figured out how to operate his personal television, he had watched 2 1/2 movies (and had to pretend to have something in his eye at the end of Titanic--what a wonderful film!) and played a dozen video games. He beat Hermione in all but the trivia challenge, but he was having too much fun to pout over that minor defeat. By that point, he'd tossed back quite a few complementary cocktails, which, combined with his pre-boarding binge, might also explain the pleasing appearance of the flight attendants and that unfortunate watch from the duty-free cart.
Eventually Hermione cut off his alcohol consumption when he couldn't stop giggling as she explained the proper procedure for getting through immigration and customs. After which point the flight was significantly less fun, and his pout much more convincing.
~~~
What with the Unfortunate Baggage Cart Incident, getting lost on the 36 or so Tokyo train lines, getting lost again in the labyrinth of tiny back streets in Harajuku, dragging his vast amount of luggage up to the fourth floor of his liftless flat, and discovering that said flat was in fact approximately the size of an average lift, Draco was Not In A Good Mood. He moped for a full hour while Hermione pranced around the flat, arranging her things in the living room (Draco got the bedroom, as he'd be staying longer) and experimenting with the gas and water. He then proceeded to sulk for the next three hours when she left him alone to explore the area. When Hermione finally returned, glowing with the exercise and bursting to talk about her afternoon, the storm cloud above Draco's head was nearly visible.
It was time to resort to whining. "I'm hungry!"
Hermione rather unkindly pointed out that he could, in fact, have joined her on her walk, and thus stopped at a convenience store for a snack, but then suggested they visit an izakaya for dinner.
"An iza-what?"
"Oh, just come with me."
~~~
The izakaya was dark and smokey. Hermione slipped off her shoes at the entrance, but Draco walked right in, earning him a sharp elbow in the side from Hermione and a scandalized look from the server.
"Excuse me, Sir. Please to take off shoes."
Draco complied with bad grace, muttering to himself about stupid customs and wastes of time.
Once they were seated, Hermione still pink-cheeked, a waitress brought them warm towels and a small appetizer. Hermione immediately dug in, but Draco was pouting again.
"I don't have a fork."
"This is Japan, Draco. Use chopsticks, like me." She received a blank stare in response. "Didn't you ever eat Chinese takeout?" Another look. "No, I suppose not." She proceeded to teach Draco to use his chopsticks. It was a long battle, and more than one bit of food ended up in unfortunate places, but luckily no lasting injuries were sustained. Draco eventually got the hang of it, and after finishing his appetizer, asked what was in it.
"Jellyfish, mostly, with seaweed and carrot."
Draco's jaw dropped unattractively, displaying some of said jellyfish. He closed it with a snap. "They eat.....what?"
"Oh for goodness sakes, Draco, didn't you read any of the books I gave you? There was one specifically on Japanese cuisine. If you had been using the Translation Charm, you would have heard the waitress explain the dish. But yes, they eat jellyfish here. It's an island."
"How about dog?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Do they eat dogs here?"
"No!" Hermione was indignant. "Look at the menu, it's all seafood, chicken, beef....oh, wait, they do have horse sushi." She seemed to wilt a bit at this discovery.
Draco pulled a face. "No, I'll pass."
With the help of Hermione's charm and the English menu the waitress conjured up, they managed a complete and edible meal. Draco still felt violated, though.
~~~
Draco was starting to get used to the place after a week or ten days. He could find his way from their flat to the park, the station, and the shops. Even more importantly, he could find his way back. Even the food had improved, and he had developed a taste for tempura and sushi, although nothing was better than ramen. The British version was pure travesty compared to what he had been eating of late. He'd have to be careful, though. He didn't want to lose his perfect physique.
One very nice part of living in Harajuku was the clothing. It was truly a place where anything was appropriate, even robes. Draco didn't have to dress like a Muggle, and hadn't since the drab trousers and ugly jumper Hermione had forced on him for the plane ride.
And yet....if he were honest with himself, Draco had to admit that the Muggle fashions in Japan were truly fabulous. And so practiced his Translation Charm by eavesdropping on a group of attractive well-dressed young men lounging in the park. An hour later, armed with plenty of knowledge, a wallet full of yen, and a wand in his pocket, he staggered to the station and Shibuya. There he found nothing less than Paradise.
First stop was the hairdresser. Living in hiding had severely curtailed his grooming routine of late. He told the stylist to go crazy, and the man certainly had. When he emerged several hours later, Draco had never looked prettier. It was poufy in some places, feathery in others, and absolutely divine. Glowing with his new look, it was on to the shops. Clothes, shoes, belts, sunglasses--he had to have it all. It was the most fun he'd had in years. Better than Quidditch. Better than....no, sex was still tops, but it was nevertheless a stellar day.
He'd changed into some of his earlier purchases, and when he arrived back at the flat, clad in tight jeans, pointy shoes, and a silk shirt unbuttened to the navel, Hermione seemed to not recognize him, judging by the decibal level of her screech. Then, to Draco's dismay, she began to laugh. Cackle, even. She didn't stop until the tears rolling down her cheeks started to land in her precious research. Honestly, what was she doing all day, cooped up with a massive stack of books and a telephone?
"Are you going to a club tonight or something?" Hermione had finally gotten her breath back, although she was still looking rather flushed.
"Club? What's a club?" Draco was intrigued.
"They generally have loud music, dancing, and lots of alcohol."
Draco's eyes widened. "Why have I not heard of this before? It sounds wonderful! Where are these places?"
Hermione gave Draco the once-over. "Well, there are some in Roppongi, but with your look, I think you'd be better off in Shinjuku. In the Nichome area."
~~~
Draco was having the time of his life. He was all sweaty from dancing half the night in the crowded club, but it was fine because everyone else was sweaty, too. Especially those men wearing nothing but very short shorts. They were positively shiny, and so muscle-y. Mmmmmm. And--oh god, oh god, they were looking at him! Coming over! Draco was glad the Translation Charm he'd cast while sober (not that that state had lasted long) was still working. He'd never wanted so much to talk to anyone in his life.
~~~
When he staggered into the flat at 9am, drunkenness fading into a splendid hangover and arse too sore to sit on after all the, ahem, activity of the previous night, Draco was looking forward to seeing Hermione for the first time in, oh, ever. Surely she'd give him some sympathy and take care of him.
But instead of hunched over her books as usual, she was nowhere to be seen. Draco took advantage of her absence by collapsing facedown on the couch, too tired to bother with the futon in his bedroom. He Summoned a glass of water but only drank half of it before conking out totally. His dreams were sweet indeed.
~~~
Hermione was Not Happy. She'd traced one member of the group that had gotten to see Rowena's wand all those years ago, but the foolish woman had been to London a dozen times and couldn't remember this visit at all. After Hermione had come all the way to his tiny village in Niigata! Instead, whe was hearing, in great detail, about all the musicals this bloody woman had ever seen. Cats had been covered at mind-numbing length. Now they were on to Phantom of the Opera. Damn Andrew Lloyd Webber straight to hell. Hermione prayed she could contrive a reason to escape before they reached The Lion King. Honestly.
~~~
When Hermione returned some days later, she stopped outside the door, sensing a Silencing Charm had been performed. Wand out, she carefully entered, heart pounding. The sight that met her was truly horrible. She had to fight the urge to gouge out her eyes, or vomit.
Draco Malfoy, wearing nothing but very short shorts and looking incredibly shiny, was enthusiastically shaking his arse to some of the loudest, most god-awful music Hermione had heard in years. She was no club slut. The vision in front of her, however--Hermione had a sinking feeling that she had created a monster.
~~~
Draco sashayed over to the mirror, the better to admire his pretty, pretty self. Now that the swelling from his nipple piercings had gone down, he loved to look at his lovely smooth chest.
After gazing at himself for a while--that eyeliner did wonders for his features--Draco happened to glance over his shoulder. The color drained from his face before returning tenfold a moment later. He let out an undignified squeak before gathering his wits enough to flick off his new sound system and wrap himself in his purple silk lounge robe.
Then, reluctantly, he turned to face Hermione Granger.
~~~
Hermione Jane Granger rarely swore. In fact, when Ron and Harry used such language in front of her, they could depend on a swat to the back of the head, or its verbal equivalent.
Nevertheless, as Hermione discovered That Day, there were in fact some situations in which such language was indeed justified.
"Bloody buggering hell, Draco, I'm gone a week and you become a frelling fairy. What the fuck is going on?"
Draco was crimson. "I got a job. I need to practice."
"A job," Hermione screeched. "As what, a prostitute?"
"No, I'll be a host in a club in Kabukicho."
Hermione was speechless for a full five minutes, during which Draco endlessly figited. Finally she managed to sputter, "But you're on a cultural activities visa!"
"Trust me, my activities lately have been very cultural."
~~~
Hermione returned to England the following week, having gotten the necessary information from the Niigata witch's daughter-in-law, who was rather less impressed by floating tires and falling chandeliers.
Draco stayed in Tokyo until after the War, and its cleanup, had finished. He had amassed a fair amount of money in the Japanese entertainment industry, and upon his return to England opened a hugely trendy gay nightclub, frequented by both Muggles and Wizards in disguise. He had numerous flings, at one point or another having most of the gay Wizarding community lusting after him. Incidently, he had during his time abroad learned to use chopsticks in ever-so-many creative and daring ways.
Rating: Mature
Disclaimer: Recognize it? Not mine.
Warnings: Um, bad fic? References to homosexual activity, drama!queen!Draco
Summary: Draco is shipped to Tokyo for his own protection.
Notes: If anyone is wondering, here's info on Harajuku, Nichome and Kabukicho. This was written for my own amusement; posting it here hoping that others might find it funny, too. This is completely different from the last fic I posted, and it's only the second one I've written, so if you feel like giving me feedback, that's fine. Suggestions for a place to publically post it are also welcome. I hope you like it!
This whole Death Eater business, Draco realized, wasn't quite what it seemed. He'd expectated excitement, power, glamorous swishy robes. Not being stuck in a horrid hovel with Severus Stick-Up-His-Arse Snape. Then, not only does he get Crucio-ed for not killing Dumbledore (and the Dark Lord completely overlooked his Sheer Brilliance in getting the Death Eaters into the castle), but his first meeting as a full-fledged Death Eater was a total let-down. Sure, there was the rumored orgy, but no slash to be found for love or money.
Draco was not having none of it. First chance he got, he escaped Snape and found Harry Potter (buggering Ron Weasley, which confirmed all his suspicions but did at least bode well for entertaining meetings). Yes, joining the Order of the Phoenix (and what a prissy, Gryffindor name!) was looking more and more promising.
~~~
"You're shipping me where?" Draco's voice, which had become increasingly shrill during the course of the preceeding conversation, now ended in a squeak reminiscent of a ferret getting its tail trampled. He cleared his throat and tried again. "You're sending me to Japan. You cannot be serious."
Hermione sighed. "For the third time, yes. You'll be safe there, and I can get some research done. You can start by reading these books." She dropped a sizeable stack on the table, which groaned in protest. "Oh, and here's your passport."
"My what?"
"Passport, Draco, surely you're heard of them."
"But aren't they for Muggles?" He practically spat out the word.
"Indeed. And since you'll be living in Tokyo as a Muggle, you'd better start getting used to the idea, and stop that obnoxious pouting. You have no idea the strings I had to pull to get you a passport, not to mention a visa."
Hermione flounced out, leaving Draco stuck in this horrid flat with nothing but cockroaches--and now a stack of depressingly dull books--to keep him company. He half-heartedly flipped through the top book, something ridiculous about a sword and a chrysanthemum, whatever that was, before giving it up as a bad job and hurling the book across the room. He'd never dreamed that betraying the Dark Lord would be so demeaning.
Before retreating to his room for a nap, Draco retrieved the book and carefully laid it back on the table. He had no wish for another verbal lashing from that book-worshipping Mudbl--Muggleborn.
~~~
"Hermione, you cannot be serious." Harry sounded bewildered, while Ron looked on in horror, apparently still too stricken to speak.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Look, you both know that we have to get him out of England, and Japan is the logical but not obvious choice. Voldemort's never had support there, and the Japanese Minister of Magic agreed to give Draco sanctuary. Do you have any idea how rare that is?"
"But why do you have to go with him?" Ron, red in the face and bellowing, had found his voice at last.
"First of all, someone needs to help him get settled, and I doubt either of you could manage that without killing him, which would rather defeat the purpose." Ron and Harry looked mildly abashed, unable to argue with the truth of that statement. "And as you well know, there's evidence that a Japanese tour group viewed Rowena Ravenclaw's wand soon before it disappeared from the magical wing of the British Museum. If I can talk to the people from that tour, it might give us the clue we need to find the next Horcrux."
"Fine," said Harry with a resigned air. "But if he does anything to hurt you, we will kill him."
"Painfully," Ron fervently added.
~~~
Draco had to work hard to cover his glee with his customary smirk. Airplanes were--there was no other word for it--cool! Once he'd figured out how to operate his personal television, he had watched 2 1/2 movies (and had to pretend to have something in his eye at the end of Titanic--what a wonderful film!) and played a dozen video games. He beat Hermione in all but the trivia challenge, but he was having too much fun to pout over that minor defeat. By that point, he'd tossed back quite a few complementary cocktails, which, combined with his pre-boarding binge, might also explain the pleasing appearance of the flight attendants and that unfortunate watch from the duty-free cart.
Eventually Hermione cut off his alcohol consumption when he couldn't stop giggling as she explained the proper procedure for getting through immigration and customs. After which point the flight was significantly less fun, and his pout much more convincing.
~~~
What with the Unfortunate Baggage Cart Incident, getting lost on the 36 or so Tokyo train lines, getting lost again in the labyrinth of tiny back streets in Harajuku, dragging his vast amount of luggage up to the fourth floor of his liftless flat, and discovering that said flat was in fact approximately the size of an average lift, Draco was Not In A Good Mood. He moped for a full hour while Hermione pranced around the flat, arranging her things in the living room (Draco got the bedroom, as he'd be staying longer) and experimenting with the gas and water. He then proceeded to sulk for the next three hours when she left him alone to explore the area. When Hermione finally returned, glowing with the exercise and bursting to talk about her afternoon, the storm cloud above Draco's head was nearly visible.
It was time to resort to whining. "I'm hungry!"
Hermione rather unkindly pointed out that he could, in fact, have joined her on her walk, and thus stopped at a convenience store for a snack, but then suggested they visit an izakaya for dinner.
"An iza-what?"
"Oh, just come with me."
~~~
The izakaya was dark and smokey. Hermione slipped off her shoes at the entrance, but Draco walked right in, earning him a sharp elbow in the side from Hermione and a scandalized look from the server.
"Excuse me, Sir. Please to take off shoes."
Draco complied with bad grace, muttering to himself about stupid customs and wastes of time.
Once they were seated, Hermione still pink-cheeked, a waitress brought them warm towels and a small appetizer. Hermione immediately dug in, but Draco was pouting again.
"I don't have a fork."
"This is Japan, Draco. Use chopsticks, like me." She received a blank stare in response. "Didn't you ever eat Chinese takeout?" Another look. "No, I suppose not." She proceeded to teach Draco to use his chopsticks. It was a long battle, and more than one bit of food ended up in unfortunate places, but luckily no lasting injuries were sustained. Draco eventually got the hang of it, and after finishing his appetizer, asked what was in it.
"Jellyfish, mostly, with seaweed and carrot."
Draco's jaw dropped unattractively, displaying some of said jellyfish. He closed it with a snap. "They eat.....what?"
"Oh for goodness sakes, Draco, didn't you read any of the books I gave you? There was one specifically on Japanese cuisine. If you had been using the Translation Charm, you would have heard the waitress explain the dish. But yes, they eat jellyfish here. It's an island."
"How about dog?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Do they eat dogs here?"
"No!" Hermione was indignant. "Look at the menu, it's all seafood, chicken, beef....oh, wait, they do have horse sushi." She seemed to wilt a bit at this discovery.
Draco pulled a face. "No, I'll pass."
With the help of Hermione's charm and the English menu the waitress conjured up, they managed a complete and edible meal. Draco still felt violated, though.
~~~
Draco was starting to get used to the place after a week or ten days. He could find his way from their flat to the park, the station, and the shops. Even more importantly, he could find his way back. Even the food had improved, and he had developed a taste for tempura and sushi, although nothing was better than ramen. The British version was pure travesty compared to what he had been eating of late. He'd have to be careful, though. He didn't want to lose his perfect physique.
One very nice part of living in Harajuku was the clothing. It was truly a place where anything was appropriate, even robes. Draco didn't have to dress like a Muggle, and hadn't since the drab trousers and ugly jumper Hermione had forced on him for the plane ride.
And yet....if he were honest with himself, Draco had to admit that the Muggle fashions in Japan were truly fabulous. And so practiced his Translation Charm by eavesdropping on a group of attractive well-dressed young men lounging in the park. An hour later, armed with plenty of knowledge, a wallet full of yen, and a wand in his pocket, he staggered to the station and Shibuya. There he found nothing less than Paradise.
First stop was the hairdresser. Living in hiding had severely curtailed his grooming routine of late. He told the stylist to go crazy, and the man certainly had. When he emerged several hours later, Draco had never looked prettier. It was poufy in some places, feathery in others, and absolutely divine. Glowing with his new look, it was on to the shops. Clothes, shoes, belts, sunglasses--he had to have it all. It was the most fun he'd had in years. Better than Quidditch. Better than....no, sex was still tops, but it was nevertheless a stellar day.
He'd changed into some of his earlier purchases, and when he arrived back at the flat, clad in tight jeans, pointy shoes, and a silk shirt unbuttened to the navel, Hermione seemed to not recognize him, judging by the decibal level of her screech. Then, to Draco's dismay, she began to laugh. Cackle, even. She didn't stop until the tears rolling down her cheeks started to land in her precious research. Honestly, what was she doing all day, cooped up with a massive stack of books and a telephone?
"Are you going to a club tonight or something?" Hermione had finally gotten her breath back, although she was still looking rather flushed.
"Club? What's a club?" Draco was intrigued.
"They generally have loud music, dancing, and lots of alcohol."
Draco's eyes widened. "Why have I not heard of this before? It sounds wonderful! Where are these places?"
Hermione gave Draco the once-over. "Well, there are some in Roppongi, but with your look, I think you'd be better off in Shinjuku. In the Nichome area."
~~~
Draco was having the time of his life. He was all sweaty from dancing half the night in the crowded club, but it was fine because everyone else was sweaty, too. Especially those men wearing nothing but very short shorts. They were positively shiny, and so muscle-y. Mmmmmm. And--oh god, oh god, they were looking at him! Coming over! Draco was glad the Translation Charm he'd cast while sober (not that that state had lasted long) was still working. He'd never wanted so much to talk to anyone in his life.
~~~
When he staggered into the flat at 9am, drunkenness fading into a splendid hangover and arse too sore to sit on after all the, ahem, activity of the previous night, Draco was looking forward to seeing Hermione for the first time in, oh, ever. Surely she'd give him some sympathy and take care of him.
But instead of hunched over her books as usual, she was nowhere to be seen. Draco took advantage of her absence by collapsing facedown on the couch, too tired to bother with the futon in his bedroom. He Summoned a glass of water but only drank half of it before conking out totally. His dreams were sweet indeed.
~~~
Hermione was Not Happy. She'd traced one member of the group that had gotten to see Rowena's wand all those years ago, but the foolish woman had been to London a dozen times and couldn't remember this visit at all. After Hermione had come all the way to his tiny village in Niigata! Instead, whe was hearing, in great detail, about all the musicals this bloody woman had ever seen. Cats had been covered at mind-numbing length. Now they were on to Phantom of the Opera. Damn Andrew Lloyd Webber straight to hell. Hermione prayed she could contrive a reason to escape before they reached The Lion King. Honestly.
~~~
When Hermione returned some days later, she stopped outside the door, sensing a Silencing Charm had been performed. Wand out, she carefully entered, heart pounding. The sight that met her was truly horrible. She had to fight the urge to gouge out her eyes, or vomit.
Draco Malfoy, wearing nothing but very short shorts and looking incredibly shiny, was enthusiastically shaking his arse to some of the loudest, most god-awful music Hermione had heard in years. She was no club slut. The vision in front of her, however--Hermione had a sinking feeling that she had created a monster.
~~~
Draco sashayed over to the mirror, the better to admire his pretty, pretty self. Now that the swelling from his nipple piercings had gone down, he loved to look at his lovely smooth chest.
After gazing at himself for a while--that eyeliner did wonders for his features--Draco happened to glance over his shoulder. The color drained from his face before returning tenfold a moment later. He let out an undignified squeak before gathering his wits enough to flick off his new sound system and wrap himself in his purple silk lounge robe.
Then, reluctantly, he turned to face Hermione Granger.
~~~
Hermione Jane Granger rarely swore. In fact, when Ron and Harry used such language in front of her, they could depend on a swat to the back of the head, or its verbal equivalent.
Nevertheless, as Hermione discovered That Day, there were in fact some situations in which such language was indeed justified.
"Bloody buggering hell, Draco, I'm gone a week and you become a frelling fairy. What the fuck is going on?"
Draco was crimson. "I got a job. I need to practice."
"A job," Hermione screeched. "As what, a prostitute?"
"No, I'll be a host in a club in Kabukicho."
Hermione was speechless for a full five minutes, during which Draco endlessly figited. Finally she managed to sputter, "But you're on a cultural activities visa!"
"Trust me, my activities lately have been very cultural."
~~~
Hermione returned to England the following week, having gotten the necessary information from the Niigata witch's daughter-in-law, who was rather less impressed by floating tires and falling chandeliers.
Draco stayed in Tokyo until after the War, and its cleanup, had finished. He had amassed a fair amount of money in the Japanese entertainment industry, and upon his return to England opened a hugely trendy gay nightclub, frequented by both Muggles and Wizards in disguise. He had numerous flings, at one point or another having most of the gay Wizarding community lusting after him. Incidently, he had during his time abroad learned to use chopsticks in ever-so-many creative and daring ways.