Draco glanced at his gold-plated watch for the sixth time in so many minutes. Forty minutes, thirty-seven seconds until the end of English class. He barely managed to suppress a moan. Draco had spent the best part of his weekend pretending a certain muggle girl's party had never occurred, but living in such denial was decidedly more difficult when the muggle in question was three feet to his right, glaring mutinously and using a lethal-looking metal nail filer to shorten her nails.

Scrape-scrape. Scrap-scrape.

Santana paused to blow bits of dust from her pinky nail before returning to her grating pastime.

Scrape. Scrape. Scrap-scrape.

Draco clenched his teeth and spared a glance in her direction. She was staring intensely at him, nail-file swishing steadily, back and forth, back and forth. Draco scowled. Surly she'd file all her nails to nubs if she kept at this much longer?

Scrape. Scrape.

What did she want from him? Her gaze, unwavering, was burning holes in the side of his face, and Draco was fairly certain she hadn't blinked once. He tugged at his collar. Wasn't it getting a bit warm in here? Leave it to the muggles not to install some form of heat control. How primitive.

Scrape-scrape-scrape.

Draco glanced at his watch. Thirty-nine minutes, seven seconds left to go. Why, WHY had he been forced to sit next to the girl in nearly every class? "M" came after "L", that was why. Malfoy came after Lopez. Alphabetical. The fates must hate him, he decided.

Scrape-scrape.

A bead of sweat formed above Draco's left eye. He wasn't nervous, of course. He'd faced worse than an irate female. He was a Death Eater, for Merlin's sake! Admittedly, this particular female had a pointy metal stick in her hand, and he was wandless, but so what! He'd use his Seeker reflexes to duck if she lunged for his eyeball. Which, now that he thought of it, she looked dangerously close to doing…

There was a flash of movement to his right- something was flying towards his head!- and Draco positively dove in the other direction, knocking his book bag to the floor with a clatter as he rolled, ending in a crouched position with both fists up, ready for an attack. He paused, the only sound his heavy breathing in the stunned silence.

Cautiously, Draco peered over his desk. The entire class, plus their elderly English teacher, was staring at the teen. Most of the kids looked perplexed, though the teacher's expression was one of concern. Santana was also staring, her mouth hanging open. Well. At least she'd stopped with the damn nail filer. Puck, too, was staring, wondering how the note he'd just tossed to Draco could have elicited such a reaction.

"Er- right, then," Draco announced, as if his dive-roll across the classroom floor was nothing out the ordinary. "Dropped my quill. I mean pen." He nonchalantly flipped his hair out of his eye and slid back into his seat, smoothing his shirt as he did so.

"Well?" he demanded, when his classmates continued to stare. "Carry on."

Haltingly, the teacher resumed her lecture, still glancing at Draco as though he, Draco, were deeply disturbed. Which maybe he was, Draco reflected. He was certainly paranoid.

It was then that he noticed the crumpled note Puck had tossed him. Ah. So that was what he had seen flying towards his head and had mistaken for an attack. He uncrumpled the note and read:

You have lunch next period?

Draco went to write back, but the pen he was using scraped across the paper, leaving no mark. Frowning, Draco shook the writing device. He fiddled for a minute before he remembered and pressed the top of the pen. With a click, the ink cartridge tip poked out and Draco wrote simply,

Indeed.

Puck's answer was barely a scribble.

Sit with us?

Draco wondered if Puck felt bad about the black eye he'd given Draco. And he had no idea who "us" was. His first reaction was to ignore the invitation, but then he remembered his first day of school- was it only three days ago? It seemed like a lifetime ago- and how lonely he'd been. Besides, wasn't that the whole point of him being there in the first place? So he could learn more about muggles?

He looked up and, meeting Puck's eyes, shrugged ever so slightly. There. Let the boy make of that what he wished.

Draco dared to look at Santana. She had thankfully put away her nail file and was resolutely staring in the other direction. Draco felt his shoulders relax. He could deal with a silly girl ignoring him. Hell, he welcomed it. He made a mental note to vanish that blasted nail file the minute he got his wand back and turned in the other direction, wondering if his recent actions indicated that he was, indeed, losing his mind.

000

"So what type of music are you into?" Puck asked Draco, shoving a chicken leg and a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth simultaneously. Draco looked away in disgust and turned his attention to his own pathetic cafeteria meal. A meal he had no intention of touching.

Draco was currently surrounded by Puck and a few of his friends. Draco had deduced that the matching red-and-white clothing many of them wore signified different sports teams, much like a Quidditch uniform would. But, of course, muggles did not play Quidditch. Muggles played "football" and "cheerleading" and "soccer".

A boy, called "Finn", was chatting with a blond girl in a red-and-white uniform, while Brittany sat besides Draco at the end of the table feeding Artie, the wheelchair-bound boy, bits of chicken. Santana sat at the edge of the table across from Brittany, staring resolutely everywhere but at Draco. Draco couldn't help but feel she was listening in, anyway.

"I doubt you would be familiar with any of the musicians," Draco said dismissively in response to Puck's question. "I don't listen to music very often." That was true. Music had never really been a big part of his life. He owned a gramophone and occasionally listened to the classical records his father had given him, but that music was old fashioned, even by wizard standards. Blaise Zabini was fond of some modern wizard bands, like the Weird Sisters and Uric's Odd Ball, but Draco couldn't consider himself a fan.

"Oh, come on man," Puck said. "Give us some credit. Americans listen to British music too. Like the Beatles." He paused, clearly trying to think of another British band he'd heard of. "Well, whatever," he said with a shrug. "I would probably recognize the bands if you said them." Draco remained silent.

"How 'bout The Pussycat Dolls?" Brittany asked suddenly.

"You idiot, The Pussycat Dolls aren't British," Puck snapped.

"Oh." Brittany frowned, then brightened. "I meant the Spice Girls. I get the two confused."

What type of crap band names were these? "No, I certainly don't listen to any of those mug- I mean, I don't listen to those musicians," Draco said over Brittany, who was singing loudly.

"If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my frieeeends-"

"So you really don't listen to music?" Santana asked, speaking for the first time. She didn't look at Draco, but instead admired her shortened fingernails. "Well, that needs to change ASAP."

She leaned over to Puck and whispered something in his ear. Draco felt a sense of foreboding as Puck raised his eyebrows and looked at Draco.

"What about dancing?" Santana demanded.

Draco stared. "What d'you mean?"

"Like, any kind of dancing," Puck said, watching Draco with a newfound look of interest. "You don't listen to music, but can ya move?"

Draco's sense of foreboding increased. His mother had hired a private ballroom dancer the summer before his fourth year when she had learned of the approaching Yule Ball, and the lessons must have paid off because Pansy had told him he was quite good. But Draco couldn't figure out why Santana and Puck were asking. Did muggle teenagers go dancing in their free time? Was Santana, perhaps, asking Draco to go dancing with her? The thought both thrilled and horrified him.

"I've… taken some lessons," he hedged.

Santana smirked and exchanged a look of triumph with Puck. "Fantastic. You're gonna hang out with me and Puck during Activity Period. Last period of the day."

Draco eyed her warily. "What, you're going to tie me down and force me to listen to your rubbish music?"

"No," she replied sweetly, smile still in place. "You are going to become a member of the William McKinley Glee club."

000

Draco had no idea what a Glee club was, but from the sound of the name, it was a group of inanely happy people who got together to spread their good cheer. It would be like being stuck in the Hufflepuff common room, he decided bitterly.

Draco was sitting in his study hall classroom, desperately bored. He'd had little to do over the weekend, and as such had already completed his homework- when he wasn't glued to the television, that is. He was quickly becoming addicted to the device. Judgmental though he was of anything muggle, he had found himself fascinated with the muggle sports channel and could only imagine what a Quidditch match would look like televised. He was equally fascinated with the "Disney" channel, the "Lifetime" channel (surely muggles were not so dramatic in real life as they appeared on those shows!) and the television channel "USA", which showed a crime drama called "Law and Order: SVU" on a continuous loop. Draco had spent his entire Saturday afternoon watching the television show, morbidly fascinated with the level of depravity these muggles exhibited. He wondered privately if perhaps the Dark Lord did not turn to the villains on this show for tips as he completed his own dastardly deeds.

"Mr. Malfoy? Did you forget about our meeting?"

Draco was jerked from his reverie as a tentative hand tapped him on the shoulder. That interfering guidance counselor from Friday was back. What has her name? Pillbox? No, Pilsbury. That was it.

"What meeting?" Draco demanded with a sneer.

Ms. Pilsbury gave a high-pitched laugh and smoothed her collar self-consciously. "I had asked you to meet me again today. I want to know how your first few days at William McKinley have been going!"

Sighing deeply, Draco shouldered his bag and followed the woman out of the classroom.

"Listen, ah, Miss Pilsbury, was it?" he asked, as soon as they had entered her office.

"Yes?"

"I don't need these meetings. I've been adjusting fine, everything is going fine."

"So you've been making friends?" Ms. Pilsbury interrupted, gesturing at him to take a seat. Draco remained standing.

"Uh, yeah- Yes. I've been making friends, and as I said, I don't see the need for our daily meetings."

Ms. Pilsbury gave that high pitched, nervous laugh again. "May I ask what happened to your eye? I've been hearing some rumors Mr. Malfoy, and I want to assure you that if you need to discuss any problems, you are welcome to come to me-"

"My eye is fine." Draco responded woodenly, annoyed to find that he had been a topic of discussion among the teachers

Ms. Pilsbury compulsively straitened some of the books on her desk and said, "Well, I certainly hope everything is 'fine', as you said. But until I've seen some real efforts on your part to integrate yourself into life here at William McKinley by partaking in social activities, I think it would be best for our meetings to continue."

"I have integrated myself here!" Draco responded vehemently.

"In what way?" Ms. Pilsbury asked.

Draco named the first (and only) social activity that came to his head. "I'm joining the Glee club. This afternoon. With Puck and… Santana."

Ms. Pilsbury's face broke into a wide grin. "You want to join the Glee club? Oh, that's wonderful! Mr. Schuester, the club's advisor, is a good friend of mine! I'll tell him to expect you. Oh, Draco, this is so good to hear!" To Draco's disgust, she clapped her hands, as though Draco's revelation brought her true joy.

Draco's stomach plummeted. He hadn't actually planned on going to club's meeting; now, if a teacher would be waiting for him… Still, if he joined the Glee club, he wouldn't have to deal with this annoying woman again. The tradeoff might be worth it.

"Yes. Well, I'll be joining the Glee club." Draco's mouth twisted unpleasantly. "So I don't see any reason to continue our meetings."

Ms. Pilsbury smiled. "Alright Mr. Malfoy. But I will be checking in later this week to see how you are doing. How does that sound?"

Draco didn't even dignify her with a response. He spun on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him. What have I gotten myself into?

000

"Draco Malfoy? The new kid? He's joining the Glee club?" Lauren did not seem upset by this fact and leaned forward conspiratorially. Puck frowned but didn't say anything, plopping his backpack down and settling into the last row in the choir room stands.

"I can't imagine him wanting to sing and dance," Tina said. "He acts like he's the greatest thing since to ever walk the earth."

"I like him," Santana said defensively. "He's a total tool, I think that's why we get along."

Santana's defense of Draco raised a few eyebrows, but no one said anything.

"Well, as long as he doesn't sing better than me, I don't care if he joins," Rachel declared. "Has anyone actually heard him sing?" she added as a nervous afterthought.

"I frankly don't care if he sounds like William Hung," Puck announced. "He just needs to be to dance well enough to at least not completely destroy our chances at winning regionals or whatever competition we're trying to win now."

"Well, he didn't seem very eager to me," Kurt said from the corner, where he and Mercedes were pouring over a Cosmo magazine. He sounded strangely bitter. "But if you can whip him into shape, Santana, go for it."

000

At 1:45pm, Draco found himself dragging his feet towards the choir room where the daily Glee club meetings took place. Really, he ought to run in the opposite direction. There was nothing preventing him from turning around and walking right out the front doors to freedom. Nothing at all, except-

"Ah, Draco! I'm so glad you could make it!"

Draco scowled at his Spanish teacher who, oblivious to Draco's less-than-enthusiastic response, held the door open for the angry boy. The teenagers congregated inside stopped talking upon Draco's entry; Draco ignored the chilly reception and sat insolently in an empty chair in the front row.

At the conversations around him slowly resumed, Draco glanced around the choir room. There was no way any of these people were sixteen, he mused. In fact, now that he thought about it, nearly every student he had encountered thus far looked to be closer to 25. Maybe muggles aged differently than wizards. Mr. Schuester's voice broke him out of his reverie.

"Alright guys, how's everyone doing?" His teacher continued without waiting for a response. "First off, I want to welcome Draco, who's taking Mike's spot as dancer! We really appreciate it, Draco." Mr. Schuester led the class in a lukewarm round of applause. Draco scowled.

"I've been thinking a lot lately," the teacher continued. "With all the fighting that's been going on around here lately, I think it's time we reconnect with the innocence of our childhood. I found this Lion King soundtrack in the trashcan in the teacher's lounge this morning, and I realized what I want this week's theme to be. Time to break out the old VHS tapes, because this week we're doing a DISNEY THEME!"

The choir room erupted into utter chaos. Brittany was clapping and squealing, Kurt was shouting, "I CALL A WHOLE NEW WORLD! I CALLED IT!" as Rachel leapt to her feet in anger, screaming, "JASMINE IS MINE!" Finn jumped up to restrain Rachel from launching herself at Kurt.

Not everyone was riled up, however.

Quinn's face fell. "I don't know any Disney songs!" She said loudly, effectively halting the commotion around her. "I wasn't allowed to watch Disney movies."

"What?" half the room chorused, looking at her in shock. Draco wondered if "Disney" was the same thing as the muggle television channel he'd seen.

"I know, I know," Quinn sighed. "My parents felt the evil villains in all those movies didn't reflect Christian values."

"Well of course they didn't reflect Christian values!" Puck exploded. "That's why they're evil!"

Draco snorted. What did these people know of evil?

Mr. Schuester raised his hand for silence before the situation could escalate out of control again.

"I want you all to pick a few of your favorite Disney songs. If you don't know any," he inclined his head towards Quinn, "then don't stress out. You have a few days to find one. This is supposed to be fun," he added, exasperated by the mutinous glares that Kurt and Rachel were exchanging.

"At the end of the week, we can decide if we want to do any of those songs for the upcoming Semi-Regional District Competition. Feel free to watch your old Disney movies to prepare. Like I said, I want you to get in touch with your inner child! Alright, you can all leave. See you tomorrow."

000

Sue Sylvester barreled down the road in her enormous truck, blowing through stop signs and traffic lights like she owned the road. And, this early in the morning (4:35am), she pretty much did own the road. Sue's morning routine had not changed in the nearly seven years she'd served as Head Coach for McKinley's cheer team. Every morning at precisely 4:05, she woke up, drank three raw eggs, and got ready for her day. At 4:25, she left for McKinely High School, where she ran 28 times around the track. She then completed her Jane Fonda workout tape in the empty gymnasium and ran up and down the bleachers for 30 minutes.

On Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays, she then spent the rest of her day planning cheer practices and, most recently, plotting ways to destroy the McKinley Glee Club. On Mondays and Wednesdays, she donned the police uniform she'd once stolen from the Drama Club and went downtown to issue citations for anything from "crimes of fashion" to "looking butt-ugly" to "parallel parking like a chimp". The fines people paid were sent directly to her home address. It was nice to have a bit of extra income flowing in; it helped pay for her yearly trip to Aruba.

On this particular Tuesday morning, Sue noticed the strange smell of manure as she approached William McKinley High School. She parked her car and jogged towards the football field, only to stop in shock. Piled in the center of the field was hill of what looked like cow poop. The stench was unbelievable. The mound was taller than Sue was and stretched for at least 20 yards.

How long Sue stood there, staring, she did not know. But she knew the message the mound of poop was sending, clear as day. Someone was challenging her. By piling the manure in the very spot where she reveled in victory year after year (her cheer team had come in 1st place seven years running), someone was spitting in her face. Challenging her. Defying her.

The image of a blond man and a bedazzled pimp cane flashed through her mind. Yes, she knew exactly who had sent this particular message. Sue's eyes narrowed, her fists clenched and she let out a roar of pure rage as she stormed towards the school.

She smashed the doorknob to Principal Figgins office and the door swung open. She stormed towards the filing cabinet where the students' parental contact information was kept, safe under lock and key. Displaying the skills she'd picked up as an Albanian spy in her early 20s, Sue expertly used a paperclip to pick the lock, determined to find the contact information for one Draco Malfoy. It was time for her to have a little parent-teacher conference. And if the parent in question didn't leave her conference alive, well, so much the better.

000

Author's Note:

I am SO sorry for the long wait! I also realize that the dynamics of William McKinely's Glee Club have changed drastically since I started this fic but I'm just going to keep with the pairings that existed back then (which was after season 2, if I remember correctly). Thanks for reviewing!