these walls are paper thin
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Draco Malfoy wasn’t exactly sure which decisions had led him to, at age 31, drink a Smirnoff Ice out of a red plastic cup that vibrated with the blasting, bass-boosted music filling a muggleborn’s cramped Brooklyn apartment. The drink was appalling, cloying and cheap, but it would get the job done. Draco was looking for a buzz, he spent most of his time hopping from student house party to student house party in his never-ending search of a high high enough.
While Draco wasn’t sure exactly how he had become /the/ ageing, amphetamine-selling British twink of the NYU early-twenties party bubble, the first relevant decision must have been to fake his own death.
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- Part 1 of these walls are paper thin