SUMMARY:- Draco Malfoy has been expelled from his school in England and sent by his parents to life with his uncle in New York. What happens when we encounters a black haired, green eyed boy?
RATING:- R for future chapters
PAIRINGS – Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione, OTHERS
DISCLAIMER:- unfortunately I own none of the characters – after seeing the 3rd film I wish I owned them all 'cause all the guys got so hot. Blimmin' hell! So, for any OOC's don't sue me 'cause I'm stone cold broke – seriously.
Oh, and also – they are in their final year at High School so they would be seventeen/eighteen
Anything in italics are thoughts
1. Prologue
The blond, eighteen-year-old man sat in his first class seat of the British Airways flight to New York, twirling the ring on his right thumb around and staring morosely at the drink in front of him.
It was eight thirty – he'd been on the plane from Heathrow for two hours.
'Fantastic,' he thought ,'just another five to go.'
He reached into the pocket of his baggy jeans and pulled out a half empty packet of Camels and a silver zippo.
"Excuse me Mr Malfoy, but you can't smoke on the plane," the air hostess informed him.
Draco Malfoy, for that was the boys name, plastered on a fake smile of the same caliber as the air hostess' and replied in the same sickly sweet tone, "I'm sorry, I'm just nervous."
"I can get you a drink if it would make you feel better."
Draco smiled again and slipped his hand into the breast pocket of his jacket, pulling out a silver flask. "But if I could trouble you for a glass?"
"Of course sir."
She hurried away and Draco's smile became a sneer, his posture slouched and he unscrewed the top of the bottle, taking a long swig.
That was he, of the split personality. Not a medical disorder, but just the way he was. Regardless of how he acted elsewhere, he was charming and polite enough to people he was sure to never meet again, so he was sure they would mention him to their friends and that attractive, oh-so courteous boy they had the pleasure of meeting on a plane, or in a shop.
However, that persona was not him – or else he would not be on this god forsaken flight. He'd been expelled from his school in London after three suspensions. The teachers had finally given up after he'd turned up to school – which was a rare occurrence – drunk (less rare) and was then caught screwing some girl on a teachers desk. In retrospect, the girl really hadn't been worth it. The girl, however, had not been expelled, not even suspended, just advised to take more caution as to who she chose to spend her time with.
Draco snorted to himself and wriggled in his seat, pulling down his black T- shirt where it had ridden up to expose pale, toned, rock hard stomach.
"Excuse me," he said to the man next to him, standing up and moving to the bathroom.
Once there, Draco examined himself in the small, badly lit mirror. Even though he'd been without sleep for more than a day, he still looked good. His white blond hair was short and tousled, something which he'd discovered recently as he was finding it increasingly tedious to spend hours deliberating over his hair each morning – when he could be bothered to get out of bed. Ice blue eyes stared back at him beneath his blond eyebrows – from one twinkled a blue jewel- and above his high, chiselled cheekbones. He placed a cigarette between his full pink lips and just let it dangle for a few moments, before dropping it in the bin.
Why risk getting chucked off the flight?
He made his way back to his seat and closed his eyes. Maybe he could catch up on his sleep for the remaining four and half hours.
'God, I hate flying.'
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